Unwrapping Holly

“Welcome to my home, Holly,” he whispered near her ear, his mouth nuzzling her neck for a moment before he stepped away. Her body vibrated with dissatisfaction at the loss of his nearness, and she turned to face him, finding him still close, so very close— he towered over her, his ruggedly male presence stealing her breath. Their eyes locked, the sexual tension between them riveting. One dark brow lifted in challenge. “Shall we get to work so we can earn those rewards?”

Work. Right. Work. Her book. “Yes. Yes, let’s do that,” she said softly, thinking about the rewards with ever-growing interest.

He retrieved her bag from the ground and motioned her forward. “Will the couch work or do you need a table?”

“The couch works great,” Holly said as she walked down the few short stairs. “I love the sunken living room.”

“My dad and I built my place,” he said, setting her bag down on the oversize, square coffee table. “Then about two years later, we built the one next door for my brothers to share.”

More and more, she liked this man. His way with people. His way with family. His way with her, for that matter.

“Sounds like you’re all very close,” she said appreciatively. She wondered about his mom and dad, but didn’t ask.

He shook his head. “Yeah. We are. Losing my dad was rough. He had a heart attack a year ago.” He pulled open the iron fireplace curtains. “Mom died of cancer a year before that. Honestly, I don’t think my dad wanted to live without her.” He shoved some wood into the fireplace, arranging kindling and logs.

“My grandmother died this past summer,” she said. “Same kind of thing. My grandfather went and she was ready to go with him.”

Dusting his hands off, Cole reached for a long lighter, and paused with a thoughtful look. “Hard to imagine that kind of love.” He flicked the lighter to life. “But my parents certainly had it.”

Pondering the concept of love, Holly typed in her password on her computer, while Cole finished setting the fire. Flames flickered, rich with shades of blue and red, and she lost herself in thought, wondering about that kind of love. She’d never yearned for love. Never felt incomplete without it. But lately, she had been empty inside in an unfamiliar way and assumed it was the seclusion of writing.

Suddenly, Holly blinked and brought Cole into focus, realizing that he was sitting on the edge of the hearth, watching her.

“It’ll be warm soon,” he said, tilting his head slightly, studying her. “Penny for your thoughts.”

Holly glanced at his corner desk and back at him. “Wondering what you’re working on?” she asked, and silently added, And when you are going to kiss me. “Looks like you have quite a stack of papers.”

“Oh,” he said, weariness slipping into his expression. “Yes. A never-ending pile, it seems. We just sold the family business to a Manchester firm, and they want every job we’ve ever done logged in a spreadsheet.”

“Wow,” she said. “That’s a big step.”

He nodded his agreement. “But not a big decision. I was ready. Most of our work was in Manchester, despite our efforts to find enough here in town, which had been our plan. The drive back and forth was killing profits and time.” He ran his hands down his powerful thighs. “Once I finish this spreadsheet, we’re done. We move on.”

Disappointment jabbed at Holly. Was he leaving Haven right when she was thinking of returning? Not that she really thought she would return. In fact, most likely she would not. But still. She wanted to know. “What will you do now?”

“What I intended in the first place,” he commented. “We’re already working on that. We bought a house a few miles away to convert to a bed-and-breakfast. With all three of us focused on making it a success, we hope it will be one of several ventures in the future. Three brothers, three operations—that’s the goal. But, of course, only after we master success with the first one.”

“That sounds wonderful,” she said sincerely. “And daring. Leaving behind an established business.”

“Like leaving a law career to write novels?” he inquired.

Her stomach twisted a little at that comparison. “Yes. Exactly. I just made the big leap recently, and apparently I have performance anxiety.” She laughed, but not with humor. “It’s scared me into writer’s block.”

His brows dipped. “If you were successful enough to write full-time, why be nervous now?”

It was a question that she’d explored over the past few days and had come to a conclusion, one she was surprisingly comfortable sharing with Cole. “It’s all I have now. The only source of income. I can’t fail. . . .” The vulnerability of starting that sentence and finishing it with the reality of her situation, twisted her in knots.