Holiday Hideout: The Thanksgiving Fix / The Christmas Set-Up / The New Year's Deal

“No.” He headed for the door. “See you soon. My cabin isn’t far.” And then he was gone.

She stared at the closed door for a long time and tried to figure out what was going on. Most men would have come up with some excuse as to why they were leaving, even if they didn’t want to admit the real reason. Maybe he wasn’t good at making excuses, which was actually kind of refreshing.

The timer dinged, telling her the pizza was done. She switched off the oven and hoped the pizza wouldn’t dry out while he was gone. He’d said he’d be right back.

In the meantime, she could work more on her project to embrace her single status. She titled the next section of her notes “Reasons Why I Love Living Alone!!!” Setting down her wineglass, she made a long list. When she got home she’d type it up, print it and frame it to keep her focused.

CHAPTER THREE

NOT THE MOST GRACEFUL EXIT in the world, Mac thought as he drove carefully through the snowstorm to his cabin. He knew Beth had been expecting some sort of explanation, but his reasons for leaving were varied and complicated, and he wasn’t prepared to give Beth any of them, at least not until he’d thought things through.

Although the heater was on, the engine wasn’t warm enough to heat up the cab, which was fine with him. The cold air helped him think, and he needed to think. Because his gut was telling him that, after all these years of dating, all the fix-ups arranged by his parents, he’d just met the woman he was going to marry.

Which was crazy. He didn’t believe in that kind of instant recognition. He’d known her for—he consulted his watch—less than two hours.

Amazingly, that didn’t seem to matter. His strong reaction defied all logic, but the longer he was with her, the more certain he became that she was the one he could build a life with.

And yet that made no sense, considering she was the first woman he’d ever met who seriously didn’t need him. She didn’t need him to make her feel good about herself, and she certainly didn’t need him to take care of her. She might need him in a physical sense, but she’d just finished saying that having sex didn’t necessarily imply a commitment of any kind.

Parking in front of his cabin, he sat in the cab and took a few deep breaths as he tried to rationalize his crazy response to Beth. She was beautiful. True, but he’d dated beautiful women before without having this instinctive connection.

The chemistry was there, but he’d felt chemistry before. Maybe not quite this strong, but close.

He couldn’t remember ever being in such a rush to close the deal and create that ultimate physical connection with a particular woman.

Maybe it was her self-sufficiency. He enjoyed fixing things for his clients, but what a relief to find someone who didn’t expect him to fix anything. Yeah… Much to his surprise, he was drawn to her independent nature.

And, he had to admit, she presented a challenge. Maybe by stating that she was totally uninterested in finding a husband, she’d aroused a need in him to prove her wrong. He hoped to hell that wasn’t true. He took the subject of marriage too seriously to make it into a game.

Not that it mattered now. She probably thought he was a nutcase after he’d blown out of there without an explanation. But he couldn’t exactly blurt out that he’d needed some space to analyze his strong reaction to her.

And he definitely hadn’t been willing to tell her his other, more practical reason for leaving.

Their discussion about sex had been going in one direction—toward the bedroom. If Beth asked him to stay the night, he wanted to be able to say yes, and that meant being prepared.

He could be wrong. She might not ask him…but then again, he had been sent over by Jillian Vickers. Jillian knew him pretty well, and her matchmaking efforts were uncannily on target, so chances were, she knew Beth pretty well, too.

Then he remembered the sociology experiment that Ken and Jillian had going on and groaned. Of course. He and Beth were part of the study. Now, there was a spooky thought. Was everything he was feeling just the cabin mojo screwing with his mind?

No. He’d rather believe in love at first sight than magic cabins. Ken and Jillian were convinced the cabin had saved their marriage, but Mac thought it more likely that all they’d needed was a secluded spot to concentrate on each other. They could have been in the middle of the Sahara or on top of Mount Rushmore.

And their renters were discovering romance in the cabin for the same reason—it created a sense of intimacy.

But that didn’t explain his mind-set. He’d spent time with women in similar cabins, including his own, and never felt this urgent compulsion to bond.

Still, the Vickers’ cabin was a charmer. Whoever had designed it originally had made the front half open and cheery, with the living room and kitchen blending into each other, and the back half cozy and…yes…romantic, with only one bedroom and one bath opening off it.

The king-size bed was massive and rustic. Jillian had found a bedspread made out of soft velour. Mac had run his hand over it once and it felt incredible. For the bathroom, Ken had located an oversize claw-foot tub and Mac had installed it as an anniversary present.

Considering the amenities, not to mention the hot tub on the back porch, Mac could easily see why couples left feeling more loving toward each other than when they’d arrived. He’d mention all that when he explained the experiment to Beth. She deserved to know that they were guinea pigs.

For now, though, he should head over there before she wondered if he’d run off into a ditch. Leaving the engine running, he navigated around the snowdrifts on his front porch and unlocked the front door. Once inside, he walked quickly to the bathroom and took the box of condoms from the cabinet under the sink. He tucked them into his coat pocket and started to leave.

He was nearly out the door when he realized that he’d have to return with something else that would justify his trip home. Arriving at her front door with a box of condoms in hand was just not classy.

So what to take back to her? Wine would be great—if he had any, which he didn’t. A six-pack of beer wouldn’t work if she favored wine. His fruit bowl on the counter held two overripe bananas. They needed to be eaten, but showing up with a couple of brownish bananas didn’t strike the right note.

His refrigerator wasn’t much help. It contained half a loaf of wheat bread, six eggs, an open quart of milk, some leftover microwave lasagna and the beer. He’d deliberately let his food supplies dwindle because his mother always loaded him up with leftovers.

He didn’t have much in his cupboards—crackers that were probably stale by now, a few cans of soup, a can of regular coffee and some boxed macaroni and cheese. None of that cried out Hostess Gift. Instead it cried out Bachelor Who Doesn’t Cook.

He considered making up some story that he’d left his TV or his coffeepot on. But then he could have just said that as he was leaving her place. Instead, he’d dashed out as if his tail was on fire.

Turning on a light in his small living room, he glanced around. Reading material? That would be lame, as if he had to bring along his own entertainment. And then he spied his stack of board games.

She might not care for board games, but he did. He took the combination checkers/chess set and Sorry!, one of his favorites because it wasn’t rocket science. She might think he was a dork for disappearing abruptly and then returning with board games, but he’d brave it out.

The return trip was hairy, and he almost skidded off the pavement twice. Not many vehicles were on the road, which was lucky because at times he needed to go smack down the middle of it. He could see the lights of snowplows down on the main highway, but they wouldn’t get up here tonight.

That meant he could be snowed in all night with Beth, whether they wanted to be that cozy or not. If he’d guessed wrong about her interest in him, he could always take the couch. Maybe he wouldn’t have to tell his mother a little white lie about road conditions, after all.

As he pulled up in front of the Vickers’ cabin, he decided to make that call to his mother before he forgot. Particularly since forgetting was a distinct possibility once he focused on Beth. He got his mother on the first ring.

“Conneach, I’ve been thinking about you. How’s the weather up your way?”

“That’s why I’m calling, Mom. It’s blizzard conditions. I doubt seriously I’ll be able to get out of here tomorrow.”

“Oh, Conneach. What a disappointment.”

Guilt stabbed him, but he wasn’t going to back down after proclaiming to Beth that he was joining her for a feast of independence. “I’m disappointed, too, but I know you don’t want me on the road if it’s dangerous.”

“No, of course I don’t. If anything changes, come on, anyway. We’ll have plenty of food.”

“I know, but don’t count on me.”

“We could postpone until the next day. Your dad’s closing the office on Friday, which means Stephanie will be off, too.”

Mac hoped he wouldn’t go to hell for lying to his mother. He couldn’t very well tell her he’d met the woman of his dreams, even if that turned out to be the truth. “I promised a customer I’d install some new bathroom lighting on Friday, Mom. Sorry about that.”

“Then I’ll package up the leftovers and keep them until you can make it down here. What’s your food situation? Will you have enough to eat?”

“I’ll be fine. The casinos will be open, don’t forget. I can walk there if I have to.”

“All right. We’ll miss you, but you can meet Stephanie another time. Call if you get the chance, but if I don’t talk to you, Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Same to you, Mom.” He disconnected the call, picked up the board games and opened his door.

A jolt of happiness hit him at the thought of seeing Beth again. It seemed like ages since he’d left.

WHEN BETH HEARD MAC’S TRUCK pull up, she took the pizza out of the oven, found a pizza cutter and shoved it through the slightly hardened crust. The pizza was a little dried out and not terribly hot, but his trip had taken way longer than she’d expected. She was curious about what he’d gone after in such a hurry, and she hoped he’d say.

But if he didn’t, she resolved not to pry. After all, they’d just met. She couldn’t expect him to lay bare all his secrets right off the bat.

Once she had the pizza cut, she stoked the fire, thinking he’d knock on the door any second. When he didn’t, she wondered what was keeping him, but she’d be damned if she’d go to the window and peer out. She stuck the pizza pan back in the oven and poked at the fire some more.

This was exactly what she disliked about getting involved with a man. Instead of doing her own thing as she’d planned, she was hanging around waiting for him to come through the door. He’d given her no reason for his errand, and now he was sitting out in his truck while the pizza got cold.

She’d decided to take the pizza out and start eating, when his knock sounded. Annoyed at herself for allowing this situation to interrupt her plans, she walked over and opened the door.

He stood there, tall, broad-shouldered and beautiful as ever, his coat collar turned up and snow in his hair. His blue gaze was apologetic. “Sorry. Everything took longer than I thought it would. Just now I was calling my mom to cancel for tomorrow. She would have panicked if I hadn’t shown up and not told her I couldn’t make it.”

Her irritation ebbed a little. She stepped back from the door. “How did she take it?”

“Fine.” He walked in and she closed and locked the door behind him. “She’s disappointed, but she doesn’t want me driving if the roads are bad.”

She noticed he was carrying something under his arm. “What have you got there?”

“A couple of games. I thought we might—”

Her irritation returned. “Mac, I don’t want to get all up in your business, but this is getting weird. You leave abruptly with no explanation, and then you return a long time later with a couple of board games.”

“You don’t like board games?”

“That’s not the issue, and besides, Ken and Jillian have a cupboard full of games. You’ve been here a lot over the years, so you must know about the games closet. This isn’t adding up.”

He put the games on the kitchen table and blew out a breath. “Hell.”

“Look, if it’s something personal, like you have a health problem and had to go back to take your meds, you should just say so instead of making me resort to using my imagination. For all I know, you have another woman stashed at your cabin and you had to go make some excuse to her. I—”

“I don’t have another woman stashed in my cabin, and I don’t have any health problems.” He reached in his pocket. “I went back for these.”

He pulled out a box of Trojans and she stared at it, not sure how a girl was supposed to react to that.

He tucked the box back in his pocket. “I couldn’t think of a way to broach the subject that wouldn’t be awkward…and then I messed it up anyway. Look, I’m very attracted to you, and I think you might be attracted to me. When we started talking about sex, I…didn’t want to presume, but…I just thought these were good to have on hand.”

He was just too cute for words. Cute, and yummy, and adorably trustworthy. Heat unfurled within her already aroused body. But she still wasn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t make her sound like a woman who could hardly wait to jump into bed with him.

“But don’t think I brought these over because I expect anything, because I don’t. I’m not making assumptions, and I wasn’t even going to mention them unless…well, unless…”

“We needed one?” As juicy as she was feeling right now, she’d lay odds that they would.

“Yeah.”

“So the board games were your cover story.” She’d never encountered such an endearing combination of uncertainty and confidence in a man.

“A damn lame one, at that. I’d forgotten about the games cupboard.” He gazed at her. “Obviously I’ve screwed this up royally, and if you’d like me to head on back to my cabin, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“I don’t want you to head back.”

“Then let’s just forget you ever saw that box, okay?”

She smiled. “No chance.”

“You never know. Once you’re into a hot game of Sorry!, you could block out everything else.”

She looked more closely at the boxes on the table. “You brought Sorry!? I used to love that game. Haven’t played it in years.”

“Great! We’ll definitely play it, then.” He seemed relieved at the change in topic. “I brought checkers and chess so you wouldn’t think I’m an intellectual lightweight, but I’d really rather play Sorry!. It’s way more relaxing.”

“At the risk of having you think I’m an intellectual lightweight, I’d much rather play Sorry!, myself. Chess gives me a headache.”

“Me, too.” He took off his coat and draped it over a kitchen chair.

She considered suggesting he hang it on one of the hooks by the door beside hers, but any discussion involving the coat would be loaded with subtext because of what the pocket contained. She decided it could stay right on the back of a chair. Handy.

“The pizza smells good.”

“I’m afraid it’s not very warm anymore. I’ll turn the oven on again for a few minutes.” She started toward the stove.

“Hey, don’t bother.” He caught her arm as she walked past him.

She glanced up at him the same moment he touched her, and she came to an instant and complete stop. She even held her breath as she met his gaze and focused on the sensation of those strong fingers gripping her upper arm.

His fingers felt cold, even through her sweatshirt. Of course they would be. He’d been outside and hadn’t worn gloves. But there was nothing cold about the look in his eyes.

He let go of her almost immediately, but his breathing wasn’t quite as steady as it had been before. “I…uh, often eat cold pizza.”

“So do I, but this time we don’t have to.” She paused. “Unless you’re in a rush?”

“No.” He took a deep breath. “No. I think we should take our time.”

Her heart rate kicked up a notch. He wasn’t talking about the pizza, and they both knew it. “I’ll turn on the oven and open another bottle of wine if you’ll see to the fire.”

“Be happy to.”

Moments later they were sitting on the couch, each on their respective ends, but neither of them hugged the corners the way they had an hour ago. Beth decided to take it a step further. She pulled off her monkey slippers and curled her feet under her before picking up her wineglass.

“Great slippers.”

“Thanks. I could have bought a zip-up sock-monkey sleeper with feet, but I wasn’t ready to regress that far into my childhood.”

Mac laughed. “But you thought about getting it, didn’t you?”

“For about ten seconds, yes, I did. It looked cozy.”

“Speaking of cozy, this sure is.” He cradled his wineglass in one large hand and let out his breath in a contented sigh.

She smiled. “Yes…I can’t remember the last time I just…sat. We probably both work too hard. I hardly ever slow down enough to relax in front of a fire and talk.” She sipped her wine.

Talking was good. It could lead to other things. Kissing would be good, too. She couldn’t help stealing glances at his mouth and wondered what kissing him would be like.

“Turns out there’s something specific we need to talk about, though.”

“Like what?” Uneasiness pricked her bubble of contentment. She should have known this was all too good to be true.

“Do you know why Ken and Jillian bought this place?”

She glanced over at him. “If you’re about to tell me it’s haunted, I don’t want to hear it. I’m a real wuss when it comes to scary stuff.”

Mac swallowed a mouthful of wine and shook his head. “Nothing like that. They bought it because they rented it for a weekend and it put their marriage back on track.”

“Aw. Now, that’s sweet. I’m happy for them. But what does that have to do with us?”

He looked at her. “It seems that when they began leasing it out for the winter holidays, renters left notes saying they, too, had discovered or rediscovered love in this cabin.”

“How nice.”

“Yeah, except everyone left a note like that.”

“Everyone?” Beth scooted around and rested her back against the arm of the couch, so she was sitting cross-legged, facing him. “That’s quite a coincidence.”

“I know. So now Ken and Jillian, being sociologists, are collecting data so they can study the phenomenon.” He paused to take another sip.

“Are you saying we’re part of a sociology experiment?”

“I’m afraid so.” Angling his knee across the cushion, he shifted so that he was facing her, too. “Did you have a question on your rental agreement asking why you wanted to stay here?”

“Yes.”

“They added that to collect more data. What did you say?”

“That I wanted to spend the weekend letting go of any pressure to find a husband and joyfully embrace being single.” Her breath caught. “We’re a test, aren’t we? A test of the cabin’s influence!”

“I think we are.” He gazed at her. “So how do you feel about that?”

“It’s ridiculous. Until a couple of hours ago, you and I had never laid eyes on each other. If they think we’re going to meet and instantly fall in love in a couple of days, they’re delusional. And for the record, I don’t buy the magic-cabin angle.”

“Neither do I.”

“You know, they probably don’t buy it, either. They’re scientists. They’re not trying to prove the cabin is magic. They’re trying to prove it isn’t by throwing together two people who are perfectly happy being single.”

“Could be.”

Beth relaxed against the plump arm of the couch. “Okay, I feel better now that I’ve figured that out. I admire them both, and I’d hate to think that they’ve gone loony tunes since I was in Jillian’s class eleven years ago.”

“So that’s the connection. I wondered.”

“She and I really clicked, and so I’ve kept in touch with her over the years. Nothing elaborate, just a phone call once in a while. I’m sure other students have, too. She was that kind of teacher. But we weren’t close enough that she’d confide a marital problem.”

“Yeah, I didn’t find that out until I’d known them for a while. Ken told me after we’d each had a couple of beers.” He drained his wineglass. “I think the world of them, too. I just never figured on being part of an experiment.”

She leaned forward. “And how do you feel about the situation?”

“At first I was irritated.” He turned the glass slowly in his hand and watched as it caught the reflection of the fire. “Jillian knows how I feel about my mom fixing me up all the time, so I thought she had a lot of nerve to do it herself. But then…” He looked up and smiled at her. “Then I realized that I’d be an idiot not to take all the time I could get with such a beautiful woman, set up or not.”

“Thank you.” That smile of his packed a punch. She felt the light brush of panic as she realized how easily she could fall for him, magic cabin or not. Better nip that in the bud right now. “Luckily there’s no danger that either of us will consider this the first step toward getting engaged.”

An unreadable emotion flickered in his eyes. “That would be crazy, wouldn’t it?” He set his wineglass on the table and shifted his position on the couch, effectively bringing him closer to her.

“Yep, crazy.” But not all that unappealing. Yes, she’d have to be very careful. “For the first time in I don’t know how long, I can just relax and enjoy being with a man. And that’s special.”

“It’s special for me, too.” He smiled as he leaned toward her.

She mirrored his movements. He was almost within kissing range. She was about to close her eyes in preparation for being kissed when the smoke alarm went off.

They broke apart and she jumped up to discover the kitchen was rapidly filling with smoke from the oven. “That would be our pizza burned to a crisp.”

Moving quickly, she switched off the oven and pulled out the charred remains of the pizza while Mac opened the kitchen window and waved the smoke away from the alarm mounted on the wall.

“Stand back.” She carried the smoking pizza to the front door. “I’m putting this out in the snow.”

“Not in your bare feet.” He deftly removed the pan, pot holders and all, from her grip. “While I take this out, you can close the window.”

She hurried to do that as the smoke alarm sputtered into silence.

In seconds he was back, rubbing his arms and shivering. “News flash, it’s very cold out there.”

“I’m sorry, Mac.” She stepped closer, wondering if they’d progressed to the stage where she could hug him and warm him up. “That was our dinner, and now it’s ruined.”

“No worries.” He answered her unspoken question by drawing her slowly into his arms. “Here’s another news flash—I’m not really here for the food, anyway.”

CHAPTER FOUR

ALL THROUGH THEIR CONVERSATION on the couch, Mac had been thinking his reaction to Beth was only growing more intense the longer they were together. Meanwhile, she kept reminding him that it wouldn’t lead to anything significant.

He’d decided he’d be a better judge of that after he kissed her. Leaning across a large couch wasn’t the most graceful way to make a move, though. If either of them had lost their balance, the kiss could have gotten ugly fast.

Then the smoke alarm had screeched—a blessing in disguise because now they were upright, giving him the chance to gather her close and align his body with hers. He vastly preferred kissing a woman while employing full-on body contact.

God, she felt good, and she smelled even better; the cinnamon he’d noticed earlier blended with a scent that made his blood race. He gazed into her soft green eyes and brushed his thumbs lightly over her cheeks, which had a light dusting of freckles.

Her eyelashes fluttered and then she closed her eyes with a tiny sigh, drawing his attention to her full mouth. She wore no lipstick, but the natural pale rose of her lips turned him on far more than if she’d been wearing the kind of bright color he’d seen in commercials, the kind that was supposed to drive men wild.