“Is that better?” Jared’s roughened voice cut through her romantic notions as he released her.
Her hands hovered helplessly in midair for a few seconds until she pulled herself together. What kind of seductress would she make when she fell into a swoon like some hapless teenager every time this man came near her?
She had to get the upper hand here, and fast. Heart racing with thwarted longing and more than a little bruised pride, Heather did her best to shrug off her dazed attraction so she could channel her inner temptress.
“Not bad, Army-man.” She let the old nickname drawl off her tongue like a verbal caress. “But I’ll bet we would have created a lot more heat with my method.”
Tucking her hands safely into her coat pockets, she swished past him with a hip strut in full swing.
In your face, Murphy. Her performance wasn’t bad for a woman who hadn’t flirted in years. But she would have her small slice of revenge if it killed her, and judging by the heart palpitations churning her blood into hot surges, she figured it very well might.
* * *
So that’s the way she wanted to play.
Jared watched Heather walk away for so long he nearly didn’t make it in time to hold the inn door for her. Damn it. He’d changed so much in the years since he had last seen her and he thought she would have, too. When he read about her linen business online there had been interviews with her that made her sound more…sedate.
But in person, Heather Dillinger was as much a firecracker as she’d ever been. He didn’t know if he should be worried or insanely grateful at his good fortune.
Locking down the mess of reactions she stirred in him, Jared stalked past the huge decorated tree in the lobby to help her check in at the front desk.
The Timberline Lodge was a Lake Placid historic site, built as a great camp in the 1800s and converted to a bed-and-break-fast by owners who had fallen on hard times just before the Olympics came to the small town in 1932. Apparently the family had discovered a real affinity for the business, because the inn had been in continuous operation since then. The current owners, Roland and Helen Krause, had added several self-sufficient cabins to the grounds since taking over the operation, including five that Jared helped to restore when he first came back home.
“Jared Murphy, thank goodness you’re here.” Helen stepped out from around the reception desk to wrap him in a hug, the google eyes of her bright red reindeer sweater jabbing him in the chest. “Have you heard the forecast? We’re expecting a major snowstorm.”
“Really?” Heather stepped closer to the counter and Jared could see Roland was smitten in about two seconds.
The older couple had raised five kids of their own but still had room in their hearts to lavish affection on newcomers of all ages. At least, that’s why Jared figured the Krauses showed up on site at his restoration projects every day with food from the kitchen and lots of approving feedback on his progress. They were first-rate people in his book and Jared hadn’t been able to beg his way into paying for Heather’s room for the weekend. They’d insisted his friends were family to them, end of discussion.
“It’s a bona fide nor’easter.” Roland leaned his elbows on the counter, the jingle bell on his Santa hat clanging on his shoulder as he made himself more comfortable. “I hope you brought a hat.”
“Actually I’m in the market for one, but I saw lots of great stores along the water as we drove in.” Heather signed her name in the leather guest register. “I thought I packed enough warm clothes, but it’s hard to appreciate what this kind of cold feels like until you’re in it.”
When Roland discovered Heather was a Savannah native, he started regaling her with stories of a family trip down South when his children were young. Helen took the opportunity to pull Jared aside.
“Weren’t you stationed in Savannah?” She had that knowing matchmaker look in her eyes and Jared hated to disillusion her that his only meeting with Heather had been more carnal than romantic.
“Yes, ma’am.” He figured it would be better to offer up as few details as possible than stretch the truth.
“And you met her while you were there.” Helen smiled away, her reindeer’s eyes jouncing around as she practically bobbed on her toes at the idea of romance at the inn.
“Yes, but we didn’t really have time to get to know each other all that well.” That was true enough. “I just thought of her again recently and—”
Okay, this was where the truth stretching began since he’d thought of her many, many times before recently.
Shrugging, he didn’t bother trying to salvage his story.