Marriage Under the Mistletoe

She gripped the steering wheel. “I guess...” Her words trailed, then stopped. “Actually I’m usually not one for platitudes. So I’ll happily take that back and stop sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“It would be a shame to waste such a pretty nose, don’t you think?”

Evie’s skin tingled. He turned a good line. She pointed to a stack of CDs in the center console. “You can choose some music if you like.”

He took a moment before flicking through the pile, and then Jack Johnson’s voice filtered through the cab.

“Good pick,” she said on a sharp breath.

“You sound surprised?”

Evie stared directly ahead. “My son tossed them to me this morning. I had no idea what he’d chosen. I expected—”

“That I’d go for something a little less mellow?”

“I guess.”

“I was raised on a steady diet of jazz from my father, and classic bands like The Eagles and Bread from my mom, who was, and still is a seventies purist,” he explained. “I like most types of music.”

Evie felt distinctly put in her place. “Sorry.”

“That’s a favorite word of yours.”

Around you it is. But she didn’t say it. All she wanted to do was stop thinking about his washboard belly, unfairly cute dimple and nice voice.

“I’ll just...” she began, and then stalled because she knew he was looking at her, summing her up and working her out. “I’m really quite okay to not talk if you’d prefer. You’ve had a long flight and I’m...”

He laughed softly. “Chill out, Evie,” he said with a grin she couldn’t see but knew was on his lips. “I can cope without conversation.”

He settled back in the seat and Evie drew in a sharp breath, feeling like such a fraud. She wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know why. She only knew that in a matter of hours, her life—the life she’d lived for so many years—seemed a lot like a life half-lived.

It was as though she’d been asleep for years, not thinking, not wondering. But Evie was wondering now. And she was awake. Wide awake.

Chapter Two

Scott woke up in a strange bed. He rolled onto his back, blinked twice and took stock of his surroundings. A nice room with sloping walls. A comfortable mattress. Clean sheets that smelled like fresh-squeezed lemons. Another scent caught his attention. Coffee. And vanilla.

Green eyes, lips the color of ripe California cherries, dark curly hair dancing down a woman’s back.

Evie Dunn.

Scott quickly remembered where he was. I’m in Evie’s bed.

Well, not technically her bed. Although that idea unexpectedly appealed to him when he inhaled another whiff of coffee laced with vanilla. A bed in her house. And not in the B and B part of the big home. These were her private quarters. That had surprised him. But she’d explained how the rooms were fully booked over the holiday season and with Callie and Noah’s wedding organized so suddenly she hadn’t time enough to change her bookings.

He checked the clock on the bedside table. Six o’clock. He’d been asleep for over nine hours. When they’d arrived at Dunn Inn the night before, he’d pretty much crashed within half an hour of dumping his duffel at the end of the bed.

Scott’s stomach growled. He was hungry. And his body ached. He swung out of bed and planted his feet on the floorboards. I need a run. He stood, stretched and then rummaged through his bag for sweats. It’s summer here, remember? He opted instead for shorts and a T-shirt, pulled on socks and trainers, found his iPod and left the room.

He headed down the hall and took the flight of stairs. The rich scent of coffee hit him again as he got to the side door and the private entrance Evie told him he could use. He could hear voices coming from the guest area and main kitchen and fought the urge to follow the sound. She was obviously busy. But he looked forward to seeing those sparkling green eyes again.

Once outside, Scott got a good look at the house. It was huge and had long windows protected by timber shutters and a gabled roof. He walked backward out of the front yard to the garden. Then he turned and was struck by the most incredible view of the Pacific Ocean barely one hundred meters away. As kids he and Callie had vacationed in the nearby town of Bellandale a few times, where their father had been born. But Scott had never seen Crystal Point before. Callie had told him about it, of course, and he’d listened to his sister’s stories about small-town life and the camaraderie among the residents and how she’d been readily accepted by the community. And Scott knew her marriage to Noah Preston would cement that bond and she’d never return to California.

He looked toward the ocean, inhaling deeply. The sea was as flat as glass and he spotted a couple of fishing boats on the horizon. He liked this place. Especially when he looked to his left and spotted Evie Dunn pounding the pavement on incredibly athletic legs. She jogged toward him, zigzagging across a wide stretch of grass between the road and the footpath. Black shorts flipped across her thighs as she moved. She wore a white tank shirt, bright pink socks and flashy new trainers, and her glorious hair was pulled back and tied up beneath an equally pink visor. Scott swallowed hard. She looked vibrant and wholly desirable.

“Hey,” she said, coming to a halt about six feet in front of him. “I didn’t think you’d be up this early.” She took in big gulps of air and planted her hands on her hips.

“I told you I run,” he said, trying not to look as though he was checking her out. He managed a smile and kept his gaze level with hers. “Perhaps next time we could go together?”

“Perhaps,” she said. “Well, I’d better go inside. I’ve got hungry guests waiting.”

She smiled and headed off past him at a slow jog. Scott turned instinctively and watched her until she disappeared around the side of the house. He liked the way she moved. He liked her curvy, athletic body.

A jolt of attraction ran through him, stronger this time. Not what he wanted. Definitely not. She wasn’t the casual kind of woman like those he’d been seeing since he’d broke up with Belinda. Evie Dunn looked like the kind of woman who’d want permanence—and more than that—she looked like the kind of woman who’d need permanence.

And that’s not me.

Commitment had no place in his life. He had his job—a job he had to prove to himself that he could do without distraction.

He put the earbuds in place and turned up the volume on the iPod. Stretching his travel-weary muscles for a few minutes, he then went for a long run and decided not to think about Evie’s great legs, or lovely hips or bright green eyes. He would just have to forget all about her.

* * *

The Manning sisters had been coming to Dunn Inn for nine years. Both in their seventies, both widows who’d married twin brothers, they shared a profound camaraderie that Evie knew she’d have with her own sisters throughout the years. Her sisters were her best friends, her confidantes, her conscience, her troubleshooters. She wondered what they would think of her new houseguest—or the semierotic dream she’d had about him the night before.

Evie listened to Flora Manning explain her newest recipe for double chocolate fudge brownies while she served them breakfast in the main dining room. Sticklers for tradition, the sisters preferred to have all their meals in the bigger room, and forgo Evie’s usual and more casual approach of breakfast in the kitchen. Most of her guests favored that particular meal at the long wooden table where they could chat among themselves and with Evie.

But the Manning sisters liked the good china and the pressed tablecloths and the fresh flowers Evie always maintained in the formal dining area. And because her next guests weren’t arriving until that afternoon, Evie gave Flora and Amelia a little extra attention.

“Did we see you talking with a man outside?” Amelia asked as she sipped her tea.

Evie looked up from her spot at the buffet table. There was clearly nothing wrong with the Manning sisters’ eyesight despite their recent protestations about their failing senses. “He’s here for my brother’s wedding.”

“Ah,” Flora said, nodding to her sister. “Told you so.”

“Mmm,” she replied, and placed a rack of toast and petite pots of marmalade on a serving plate.

“He’s a nice-looking young man,” Amelia said.

Definitely nothing wrong with their eyesight. “I guess he is.”

“And he’s staying until after the wedding?” Amelia asked.

Evie nodded. “Up until New Year’s, I believe.”

The sisters shared another look. “Is he a relative of yours?”

“No,” she replied. “He’s Callie’s brother. As you know, Callie’s engaged to my brother.”