A Blazing Little Christmas(51)

The windows were expanses of multiple panes in keeping with the old-fashioned appeal. Heavy stone chimneys bracketed both sides of each building. The porch rails were rough-hewn split timber and the steps up to the cabins were natural stone.

“And you liked that so much you decided to make your own village?” Peering around the small development she realized they were still close to the lake and that the property led down to the frozen expanse. Whoever had the rights to this land was sitting on a gold mine.

“I thought about building some houses like a Habitat for Humanity community, but Roland Krause—the innkeeper—convinced me I’d be better off using my grandfather’s land for something profit-generating so that I could finance more humanitarian buildings down the road and well into long-term.”

This was his land. Jared Murphy possessed the gold mine and the way he planned to use it tweaked her heart and conscience right along with it. She felt herself teeter on the brink of…oh, God.

Love?

The possibility blindsided her as much as the emotion behind it. She’d kept the lid on her feelings for Jared for so long that now, at this sweet provocation and the proof of his generous spirit, she fell headlong into what she’d tried to avoid five years ago.

“So you’re going to sell these for a tidy sum and use the proceeds for more practical housing.” Her boot collided with a stone and he reached to steady her.

He’d been doing that a lot this weekend. But then, she had reason to be unsteady in his presence after five years of fiercely mixed emotions. She blinked hard to process this new facet of him that she never knew existed. God, she hadn’t known him at all.

The more she got to know him, the more she cared about him, wanted to be with him. That warmth of feeling would make it impossible to sprint out of his bed at dawn on Sunday. He deserved better, even if he didn’t want her for keeps.

“Actually, Roland encouraged me to develop a hotel property like the Timberline Lodge, something that would continue to generate income for years.” He released her waist now that she had her footing. “The lodge is just over this hill. Sorry if the trek has been a little long.”

“That’s okay.” She fought to find her bearings, wondering why he’d show her his project in the dark and not, say, tomorrow morning. “The cabins are beautiful.”

“Thanks.” He helped her up the start of the incline, making sure her boots found traction. “You said some nice things about the materials around your cabin so I thought I’d show you these in case you were…I don’t know…creatively inspired.”

She stopped, her treads sliding a few inches.

“You want to recruit me for your project?” Did she understand him correctly?

She should be flattered that he wanted to work with her. It was a great opportunity to contribute to a community that needed a boost and could draw attention to her fabric business.

Furthermore, it would be fun. But she couldn’t help but wonder if that had been an ulterior motive for inviting her up here after all this time. He’d never felt compelled to contact her while he’d been overseas or during the year he’d been back in the States.

The implications of his simple invitation…his assurances that he hadn’t invited her up here to renew a hot relationship…it all made sense now.

“Only if it’s something that would be a good fit for your business.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her up the slope in spite of her sluggish feet. “I actually found your contact information on the Web site for The Attic while researching companies that specialized in design for historic properties.”

The revelation pricked her heart with a powerful sting. He hadn’t even been searching for her. He’d been trying to find a company to decorate his damn cabins.

All the fun she’d had today—the skating, the snowshoeing, an exhilarating run down the Olympic bobsled track—seemed tainted somehow. He’d told her from the moment he picked her up Friday that he hadn’t been trying to get her into bed. But damn it, she’d been convinced he wanted to see her for more personal reasons.

She struggled to speak, to move forward. To pretend this news didn’t cut her to the quick.

Yeah, he remembered her all right. Just not the way she’d wanted and dared to dream.

“One of my first jobs was decorating the historic home that belongs to my mother.” Not that her mother had paid her. But at least Loralei had always been up-front about her motives. “Most of my business is selling antique linens that work well in historic properties, but I do some original designs as well.”