Marry Me at Christmas

“Of course not,” she said brightly. “Why would I think that? We’re friends. I’m helping with your sister’s wedding. Nothing more.”

She hoped she sounded totally sincere and disinterested in him in that way. Because the alternative was humiliating. Honestly, if there hadn’t been two feet of snow on the ground, she would have started walking home right that second.

Jonny motioned for her to lead the way out of the mudroom, only to put his hand on her forearm when she started to move. He turned her until she faced him again. One corner of his mouth turned up.

“Nothing will happen tonight,” he repeated.

She did her best not to wince.

“But that doesn’t mean I won’t be tempted.”

TEN

THERE WAS NOTHING like a man confessing to wild sexual desire to brighten up a girl’s day, Madeline thought as she tried to come up with something witty to say in response. “Thank you” seemed really lame and “Me, too” was just too, well, dangerous. Because while wanting him was pretty safe, she wasn’t sure what would happen if she actually had him. Even counting the Ted debacle, she’d never been one to sleep around. For her, being that intimate had meant she had crossed an emotional threshold. Maybe not to the point of being in love, but darned close.

She liked Jonny a lot, and yes, there were plenty of tingles, zips and zings. But they weren’t about anything real. They couldn’t be. Not only did he have commitment issues, he was famous. And she was little more than a shopgirl.

“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted when the silence had stretched out far too long.

“How about a tour of the house? That will give you plenty to talk about.”

“I like a man with a plan.”

“That’s me.”

They went into the kitchen.

“Someone’s done some work,” she said, thinking about the age of the ranch house compared with the modern kitchen.

There was a large island with a built-in wine fridge at one end, some kind of fancy granite countertop and beautiful wood cabinets that stretched to the ceiling. A huge farm sink sat in front of a bay window. Right now all she could see was semidarkness and snow but she would bet that when the weather was nice, the view was amazing.

“I had the kitchen gutted,” Jonny admitted. “It was the original one, and while I love avocado tile as much as the next guy, I figured it was time for a change.”

“You flew in a decorator?”

He nodded. “The construction team was local, though.”

“Hendrix Construction?”

“You know them?”

“They’re one of the founding families in town, so yes.” She smiled. “They do good work.”

“I agree.”

Off the kitchen was a dining room with a rock wall and a fireplace. It was open on both sides and beyond that was the family room.

Here there hadn’t been many changes, she thought, taking in the worn stone and the beautiful beam mantel. The table and twelve chairs looked well-worn, but happy. Maybe a strange description for furniture, but Madeline was sticking with it.

“Some of the furniture came with the house,” Jonny told her. “This dining room set and a lot of the wood pieces.”

Madeline knew that old Reilly Konopka had moved to Florida to be near his kids and grandkids, but that until he’d sold, his family had owned the ranch for about fifty years.

“There are a lot of memories in this house,” she murmured.

“I know. I like that. The history. There’s a good feeling here. Ginger likes the house.”

He showed her the family room. The furniture there was mostly new, but well done with a beige upholstered sectional and a couple of leather chairs. A big Christmas tree stood in the corner. It was artificial and looked professionally done. Beautiful, she thought, but without the charm of one that had been decorated with ornaments that might be worn but were also filled with emotional significance.

“The guest rooms are this way.”

The house was kind of U-shaped, with the kitchen and family room at the base of the U. They went down the right hallway, past an office. Jonny pushed open a door that led into a comfortable room with a queen-size bed, a dresser and an attached bathroom.

There were neatly folded towels on a bench and fluffy pillows on the bed.

“I use a service,” he admitted. “They clean and keep things ready.”

“It’s nice,” she said, wondering where the master was but not about to ask. The situation was a little awkward. Interesting, but strange. She was both nervous and excited, which left her feeling that she could easily do something foolish, like walk into a wall or say something ridiculous.