Harlequin Holiday Collection - Four Classic Seasonal Novellas

here, completely alone, pretty far from town?” His tone was subdued, a frown tugging at his handsome brow.
    “We do have guests,” she shot back, not appreciating his pointing out just how empty they were only one week before Christmas. God, she hoped he didn’t mention that on the air. “But most people make their holiday plans long in advance. We weren’t even open for business until Labor Day.”
    Zach stopped, though they were halfway down the staircase leading from the second to the first floor. “I didn’t mean that…I mean, damn it, Holly, it’s remote out here. What would you do in case of an emergency?”
    He was worried about her? The realization caused a flash of warmth—she shoved it down, grabbing the handrail to keep from nervously touching her hair again. “Don’t be ridiculous. What could happen?”
    Uh…except dead guys in trees. That, however, had to have been just a freak accident. Like Reggie had said, the guy had been playing a game of dive-through-the-tree-binder and had gotten tangled up in the plastic.
    How he’d ended up in a tree, she didn’t know. Nor was she ready to dwell on it. She’d leave that for the police…when she called them.
    She would. She’d call. Soon. And hopefully she would not go to jail for waiting two hours to report it. Or for moving the corpse.
    “Is that Manny?” Zach asked. “He a drinker or something?”
    Holly glanced down the remaining steps, following Zach’s puzzled stare. She’d been so focused on Zach’s completely unexpected protective streak that she hadn’t noticed the living room door was standing open. Or that three people had apparently just walked through it. The trio made an odd procession as they headed down the short corridor that led to the kitchen and the private wing of the house.
    Holly could only shake her head in disbelief as she watched the three of them disappear behind another swinging door. Because they weren’t hard to recognize—one was her grandfather, one Reggie.
    And the third, whose feet hadn’t exactly been moving as they’d disappeared from view, was the dead guy.

Chapter Eight
    “What are they doing? ” she murmured, watching her maid, her grandfather and the dead man disappear down a first-floor hallway.
    “Looks like they’re just helping your grandfather’s friend.”
    Why she should find it so surprising, Zach didn’t know. The only thing he knew for sure after their tour through Holly’s family inn was this: she was desperate to make this place a success. With every step they’d taken, Zach had grown more aware of Holly’s anxiety. She had grown so pale she looked like she’d been doused with powder. And she kept reaching up to shove her hair back—a nervous habit she clearly hadn’t outgrown. And he was pretty sure that her mood had nothing to do with him.
    Too bad. Because his tension was primarily due to her. To her nearness and the sweet, cinnamon scent of her hair. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way she’d felt pressed tightly against his body, the way her mouth had tasted, the brush of her soft skin against his rough cheek.
    Every thought was colored with memory, shaded with the thoughts of the past. To the way she’d blown him away with her smile that first time they’d met, and how his heart had broken for her when she’d had to deal with her screwed-up parents and the problems they’d dumped on her since she was a little kid. He’d wanted to take care of her, to make her happy. And she’d been the same way—keeping him sane when his dad had died suddenly while Zach was away at college.
    Holly had made him believe in all that love-and-happily-ever-after stuff that girls had always seemed to talk about and guys had always seemed to laugh at. At nineteen, she’d made him believe in it.
    No one else had. Not before. Not since.
    “Holly,” he whispered, leaning closer, “This…we…”
    He didn’t finish, he didn’t know how to finish. God, he’d been back in her company for less than two hours and he ached to touch her. Maybe that wasn’t too surprising. He didn’t think there had been a time in the past eight years since they’d broken up that he hadn’t wanted her.
    He’d never imagined he’d get another chance to feel the silk of her skin against his—until today, when he’d knocked on the door to a country inn and seen her open it.
    “I, uh, I guess that’s about it,” she mumbled. “You should know enough to tell your crew what to