Holiday Homecoming

For a second, she looked as though she knew him, and for some reason, that didn’t please her. Her eyes narrowed, and her mouth tightened, losing all the softness in her lips. She held his gaze almost defiantly and for what seemed forever, and he knew for a fact he’d never met her before. He had a gift for remembering people. It was in his best interests as a casino and hotel owner, to remember guests and clients. She’d never been either, and he’d never looked into those amber eyes before. He would have remembered. Any man would have remembered her.

The door started to slide shut and she reached out one slender hand to stop it. She exhaled harshly, then moved toward him, never taking her eyes off his. Before he could step out of the way, she veered to her right, ducked her head and was leaving. She headed for the door he’d just come through, and he was shocked that she could cover so much area so quickly without running.

This time, he reached for the elevator door before it could close and grabbed at the edge, but he didn’t glance away. She was at the side door as she pulled a bright yellow knit hat out of her pocket and tugged it on over her brilliant hair. That was when she glanced back at him, giving away no surprise that he was watching her. Then she opened the door and was gone.

He stared at the closed door, feeling oddly off balance from the encounter. He didn’t know why.

He got into the elevator. The door slid shut behind him, and he hit the Up button. He glanced at his reflection in the elevator door, halfway expecting to see that he had transformed into Mr. Hyde, or maybe grown a second head. No horns, no fangs, no warts. He’d had people not like him before, and he hadn’t cared. Maybe she was one of Jack’s friends, and they’d fought. Maybe she hated all men right now. He’d have to ask Jack what was going on.

The elevator stopped, the door slid back and Cain stepped into Jack’s office area. It fronted Jack’s private suite at the back of the turret he occupied. The plush leather, mahogany and leaded-glass windows were as mellow as Cain remembered. But the space was absolutely empty. There were no papers on the desk near the bank of windows that overlooked the slopes far below. There were no open books on the table by the chairs turned to face the massive stone fireplace. There was no fire in the hearth, and no sounds at all.

“Jack!” he called as he strode toward the partly closed door across the room. “Hey, Jack!”

He touched the door and it swung back. Jack was nowhere in sight. The expansive room, with a fireplace that matched the one in the office, was as empty as the rest of the place. Cain went to the right, into the kitchen, which was all stainless steel and ceramic tile, but there wasn’t even the ever-present coffee brewing in the coffeemaker. Back out in the main area, he crossed to the double doors that led into Jack’s bedroom. If Jack was in the bedroom, that meant that the woman had come from—

A noise in Jack’s office cut short his thoughts. Quick footsteps sounded, then Jack came through the door. He stopped and stared at Cain as if he didn’t recognize him for a moment, then his face broke into a huge smile. “Well, I’ll be,” he said as he walked to where Cain stood, his hands outstretched. “I didn’t believe you’d come.”

He grabbed Cain’s shoulders, and although there was no hug or anything that bordered on mush, Cain was touched by Jack’s greeting. “Good to see you, too,” he muttered. As Jack drew back, Cain awkwardly slapped Jack on his shoulder. “I pay off my bets.”

Jack eyed him up and down, then shrugged. “When you didn’t show up earlier, I had my doubts.” It was then that Cain realized Jack was in outer clothes—a denim, fur-lined jacket, with jeans and heavy boots darkened by clinging snow. “Sit, and let me get you a drink, then you can go over to number twenty.” Jack talked as he headed back across the room. He took off the denim jacket and tossed it on the nearest chair, then walked his way out of his boots as he crossed to a bar built into the wall by the bedroom door. “What do you want to drink?” he asked.

“Anything,” Cain murmured.

As a liquor bottle clinked against glasses, he spoke without looking back at Cain, “Did you get my message about Joshua?”

Cain had picked up the message moments before he’d left Las Vegas. Joshua Pierce, former cop in Atlanta and a widower for eighteen months, had suddenly found someone who had won him over so completely and quickly that he was getting married again two days before Christmas, right here at the Inn. “Yeah, I got it.”

“And?” Jack queried as he turned with two glasses in his hands.

“And what?” Cain asked while he shrugged out of his leather jacket and tossed it on the couch nearest him before sinking into the supple leather cushions.

Jack came to him, held out one of the drinks, and Cain took it, cradling it in his hands as Jack sat on the couch opposite him. “So, what do you think?” Jack spoke as he settled. “One of the Great Four bites the dust.”

Cain smiled at the title they’d given themselves so many years ago. Joshua, Jack, Cain and Gordie. “Yeah, the Great Four,” he murmured, and sipped the amber liquid. Brandy—good, smooth brandy—and it hit the spot. “But Joshua did it before with Sarah.” Cain shrugged. He’d only met his friend’s wife once, yet he’d known right away why Joshua had fallen in love with her. But that didn’t mean he understood why Joshua’d had chosen marriage then, or why he was choosing it again.

Jack lifted his glass, drank a bit, then sat back, crossing one leg over the other, his stockinged foot resting on his knee. “I didn’t think he’d ever get married again, but you never know.” He settled his glass on his thigh. “I’m aware of your aversion to weddings. You’ll be here for it, won’t you?”

He’d return for it. He’d decided that he would. “Sure, I’ll be here.”

Jack appeared pleased. “Good, so you’ll be here through Christmas. Great, great,” he murmured.

“No.” Cain shook his head, cutting off that assumption as quickly as he could. “I’ll come back for it. I can’t stay.”

Jack sat forward abruptly. “The deal was—”

“I’d come here around the holidays, and I have. I’m here and I’ll spend a couple of days around town, then I have to get back. This is the busiest time of the year for the Dream Catcher and—”

“Oh, stop,” Jack said with a frown. “Spare me. I remember the drill. You’re busy. You’re irreplaceable. You’re indispensable. You made the damn place, and it can’t stay standing without you there to support it.”

“That about sums it up,” Cain said with a smile, trying to lighten the tension starting in his neck and shoulders.

Jack wasn’t smiling. “I’m not joking.”

Cain shrugged and finished off the last of his drink. “Then my question is, why aren’t you joking? What’s so important that you need me here?”

He expected Jack to get angry again, or to pass the question off. He never expected him to say, “I’m not sure.”

He twirled his empty glass. “Why not?”

Jack shrugged and exhaled on a heavy sigh. “At first I just thought we’d have a good time, relive our glory days.” He did smile then, but fleetingly. “But lately I’ve been thinking that I need to change my life.”

That was when Cain remembered the woman he’d faced in the elevator. The woman with fiery hair and amber eyes. “Who is she?”

Jack seemed genuinely perplexed by the question. “What?”

“The woman?”

“What woman?”

Cain sat forward and put his glass on the huge leather ottoman between the couches. He met Jack’s gaze. “Does red hair, gold eyes and a look that could stop you in your tracks mean anything to you?” Jack was either a good actor or honestly confused. “Tiny? Madder than a wet hen? What did you do—break up with her, tell her to get out and she took off?”

Jack sat forward, suddenly intent. “When did you see her?”

“When I was coming up, she was leaving.”

Jack glanced at his watch, then muttered, “Oh, damn, I thought I told her four.”

“A missed date?”

“A missed appointment,” Jack said, tossing back the last of his brandy. “She was here on business and I wasn’t.”

Cain didn’t ask what “business.” “Does she have anything to do with you wanting to change your life?”

“Not directly,” Jack said as he got up and carried both empty glasses to the bar. He came back, handed Cain a new drink, then sat to face him again. “To the future…to whatever it holds,” he said as he raised his own glass.

Cain answered his salute. “Yes, to whatever it holds.”

HOLLY MARIE WINSTON felt flushed, and even though it was freezing outside, she turned the heater in her small blue car to its lowest setting. She drove out through the entry gates of the Inn at Silver Creek and went north, heading away from the Inn’s almost oppressive luxury.

She’d all but decided not to meet with Jack Prescott, but had known she had to. She’d called up to Jack Prescott’s suite from the front desk, and a man named Malone had met her at the private elevator. He’d let her in, said that Mr. Prescott would be right with her, then left through the private side entrance.

She’d waited for half an hour, horribly uncomfortable in the suite that had been empty when she’d arrived. She’d stood amid Jack Prescott’s luxury, and gazed out the windows toward the ski runs and beyond to the mountain. Her mountain. That wouldn’t change. She’d known that she shouldn’t have come. She wasn’t even going to stay to tell Prescott the mountain wasn’t for sale. She’d left and that was when she’d come face-to-face with Cain Stone.

Her heart was still beating faster than it should from the brief encounter with the man, from the moment her eyes had met his. Cain Stone. Light snow started to fall, and she flipped on her windshield wipers, then her headlights to cut into the gray failing light of late afternoon.

She’d felt relieved that Jack hadn’t kept their appointment, and she’d felt a sense of freedom, resolving to call him later and tell him her land wasn’t for sale. The euphoria had lasted until the elevator door had opened and Cain Stone had stood in front of her.

She’d never seen him in person, only in pictures, but she hadn’t been prepared for the height of the man—a few inches over six feet—or the width of the shoulders covered by an obviously expensive leather jacket. Long legs were encased in dark slacks, and he’d had a presence that had almost stopped her breathing when she’d first met his blue eyes.