A Coulter's Christmas Proposal

Amanda shivered. He exuded an aura of quiet, restrained power that seemed to vibrate the very air around him. He appeared supremely unconcerned that guests were turning to look at him as his gaze moved over the room.

As she watched, unable to look away, the stranger’s mouth curved, a smile lighting his face, turning it from handsome to movie-star gorgeous.

Cade and Zach Coulter strode through the crowd and reached him, taking turns to clasp his hand and pull him into hard hugs.

With the three black-haired, green-eyed, tall and powerful men standing side by side, recognition hit Amanda like a freight train.

Oh, my God. That’s Eli Coulter.

“Damn, Eli,” Cade said, his eyes warm, his deep voice raspy with emotion. “What’s with the hair? You couldn’t find a barber in Spain?”

“Not one I wanted to let near me with sharp scissors,” Eli told him with a grin.

“We let you out of our sight for a year and you come home looking like a girl,” Zach told him with an affectionate smile.

“Yeah, right,” Eli said dryly. Like both Cade and Zach, Eli knew his voice was unsteady, the tones rougher than usual. With silent acceptance, he recognized and acknowledged the deep undercurrent of emotion that lay beneath their teasing. He always enjoyed catching up with his brothers whenever they managed to get together. But this time, their reunion held deeper, more powerful implications. Joseph Coulter’s death had shifted the playing field, and despite his long estrangement from his father, Eli knew Joseph’s passing had changed what he’d come to accept as normal. They’d all have to come to terms with a future that had a vastly different landscape. He jerked his chin at the brightly lit, crowded lobby. “Quite a party you’re throwing.”

“Yup.” Zach turned, his gaze moving over the huge room. “We invited all the Lodge guests, plus all the neighbors and everyone in town who wanted to come. You know Indian Springs. Folks can’t turn down an invitation to a party.”

Eli grinned. “I remember.” His smile faded as he scanned the room. “You’ve done a great job with the place, Zach. Looks just like I remembered it.”

“I wanted it restored to the original plan,” Zach said as Cade turned, too, and both of their gazes followed Eli’s to take in the crowded lobby. “The furniture is different, of course, but the rest of the building is pretty much like it was.”

“Except for the kitchen,” a feminine voice put in. “It’s been updated and is way more efficient.”

Eli looked over his shoulder to find two women, both blondes. Zach draped his arm around the shoulders of the woman who’d spoken, pulled her close and dropped a kiss on her temple as she leaned into him. She was gorgeous, her lush female curves highlighted in a short, red silk dress. And she clearly belonged to Zach, Eli thought, noting the possessive way his brother held her tucked against his side.

“Eli, I’d like you to meet Cynthia,” Zach said, “my fiancée.”

Eli felt his eyes widen. He looked from Zach’s face to the beautiful woman, noting the ease with which she accepted his brother’s touch. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said softly. “I never thought I’d see the day a woman was brave enough to take you on.” He held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Cynthia.”

She slipped her small, soft hand into his and gave him a warm smile.

Before she could respond, Cade broke in.

“And this is Mariah,” he said, “my fiancée.”

Stunned, Eli swung his attention to his oldest brother and found that the other striking blonde now had her arm tucked through the bend of Cade’s elbow. She wore a deep blue dress that made her long sheaf of pale hair look like ripe wheat. Her brown eyes sparkled with amusement as her gaze met his.

“You too?” He shook his head slowly. “Damn, is there something in the water here I need to look out for?”

Both Mariah and Cynthia laughed.

“I don’t think it’s the water, Eli, but you might want to be careful around pretty blondes,” Cade said wryly.

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” He took Mariah’s hand, just as small, just as soft as Cynthia’s had been, in his much larger one. “Nice to meet you, too, Mariah.”

“It’s lovely to see you here at last, Eli,” Mariah said, her voice warm. “I’m looking forward to getting to know all of Cade’s brothers.”

“I wish we didn’t have to play host at this party,” Cade told him. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah,” Eli agreed. “But it can keep. Truth is, I’m starving.” He nodded at the long buffet table against the far wall. “While you’re circulating and charming the guests, I’ll get some food and find a quiet place to sit down.”

“Don’t miss the miniature chocolate cakes with fudge icing,” Cynthia told him. “They’re fabulous.”

“Or the little pumpkin tarts,” Mariah added.

“Fill a plate at the table with whatever looks good. Then head down the hall to the kitchen,” Zach told him. “The chef’s name is Jane, and if you want something more substantial than the buffet food, just ask her.”

“As soon as this breaks up, we’ll join you in the kitchen,” Cade said.

“Sounds good.” Eli nodded and turned to make his way to the buffet table while the other four mingled with the crowd.

He couldn’t believe his brothers were getting married. Marriage wasn’t even on his radar screen—not even a remote possibility. He couldn’t imagine himself falling in love, risking his heart, perhaps his sanity, maybe even his life, if the marriage didn’t work out. His own parents’ marriage had seemed idyllic to his youthful eyes. But after his mother’s death, when Eli was nine years old, his father had been unable to function without his wife and had proceeded to drown himself in alcohol and rage. Life had become a nightmare and Eli couldn’t imagine himself signing on for any part of the commitment and potential heartbreak of marriage.

As an adult, after watching his friends marry and divorce over the years, he’d decided marriages had a lousy success rate.

Still, given the way Cade and Zach had looked at their women, and Mariah and Cynthia had looked back at them, Eli had a feeling his brothers had a better than average chance to beat the odds.

He took a plate and worked his way down the length of the white-cloth-covered buffet table. If the food tasted even half as good as it looked and smelled, he thought, Zach had found a chef worth keeping. He reached the end of the table and turned away, realizing too late he’d stepped back into someone.

“Sorry, I …” He glanced over his shoulder and paused, then pivoted fully to look down at the woman. “My apologies,” he said, flicking a quick, intent look over the female curves encased in a slim black cocktail dress.

Petite and curvy, she had world-class legs, with trim ankles and small feet tucked into black strappy shoes with impossibly high heels. The hem of the dress ended just above her knees, and the black material looked soft as silk, clinging to the curves of thighs, hips, narrow waist and full breasts. Her thick brown hair was streaked with paler gold and fell to her shoulders in a sleek curve. Behind the thin black frame of narrow eyeglasses that perched on the bridge of her small, straight nose, her eyes were hazel. Those thick-lashed eyes widened as she looked up at him, and the soft pink bow of her mouth parted in surprise.

Eli instantly wondered just how soft her lips were and realized with a start of surprise that it had been a long time since any woman had interested him this much, this fast.

Amanda jolted when someone bumped into her, and she quickly held her flute away from her dress as the champagne sloshed toward the rim. She turned, words of annoyance freezing in her throat as she looked up into pale green eyes. Eyes that heated as Eli’s gaze swept her from head to toe, returning to her face while he granted her an incredibly attractive, very male smile.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Amanda realized she’d been silent, staring up at him in fascination, and felt her cheeks heat as she flushed. “I’m fine,” she said quickly.

“I didn’t make you spill that, did I?” He gestured at the flute in her hand.

“No, not at all.” She looked back at him. “You don’t have a glass. Don’t you like champagne?”

“I prefer whiskey but champagne works, too,” he said with a drawl, his eyes inviting her to smile with him.

And smile she did, helpless to deny the charm of that smile and the focused, heated intensity in his eyes.

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked.

“No, I …”

“Good. Then you can join me. I hate eating alone,” he said smoothly. He lifted a plate from the stack nearest them and handed it to her, then settled his hand at her waist and turned her toward the table. “I have it on good authority that the little pumpkin pie things are good,” he told her.

“Tarts,” she said automatically.