Holiday by Candlelight by Laurel Greer

Author:Laurel Greer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2019-08-13T15:42:42+00:00

Chapter Ten

Caleb made his way to Garnet’s townhouse just after six that night, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that he’d messed up somehow. After she’d dissolved in his lap in the gondola, they’d had to rush to straighten up before they got to the base. A few quick kisses later and she’d texted him her address, told him to come over for dinner and hurried away through the snow-covered town square.

It had seemed a whole lot like running away. But then, she had invited him over. Maybe he was overthinking it. And he was looking forward to getting a look at her space. He knocked. A faint “come in!” rang through the door.

He entered and toed out of his boots. “Garnet?” Her skis leaned against the wall beside a narrow table housing an overflowing ceramic bowl. He smiled at the heap of lip balm, old shopping lists, house keys and change. She had a habit of emptying her pockets here. Cute. And the place smelled amazing. Oregano and garlic and butter and a hint of her herbal shampoo.

“Welcome.” She walked down the short hall toward him, hips swaying and smile easy. Affection spread through his chest and he leaned in for a sweet but overwhelming kiss. Drawing back, he mumbled, “You taste like dessert again.”

“Hot chocolate flavor. Marisol bought it for me at this Canadian tea store she’s addicted to.” She scanned him from what had to be hat head to his sock feet, appreciation lighting her eyes. “I like Casual Caleb.”

“I figured it wouldn’t be a dress-up occasion.”

She stroked her hand down his chest, and his chest muscles flinched. “We should not dress up more often. You look hot in a T-shirt.”

So did she.

Quirking a smile at the desire spreading across her face, he traced the loose neckline of her own T-shirt, then ran a hand down her side to where the hem cut off low on her hips. “You essentially saw me in one at lunch—what’s the difference?”

“None. You looked crazy hot then, too.”

“Likewise.” He cleared his throat and followed her down the short hall into her living area, which ran from a sitting room in the front through a dining space and back into a galley kitchen. His sock feet sank into a plush area rug. Her eclectic, colorful decorating style stopped the wood-paneled walls from seeming oppressive. She’d sprinkled the chalet-style architecture with personal twists—potted orchids, colorful throws, a set of antique skis hanging above the fireplace—and it came off so intrinsically her that he knew he could spend some good long minutes studying all the little details.

She held out her hands. “Well, this is where I spend my free time.”

“In that chair, I bet.” He gestured to the corduroy armchair by the window. A reading lamp curved over the back and books overflowed on the adjacent low wooden table. Frames with pictures of friends and international destinations were tucked into the shelves of a massive bookcase, in among a selection of fiction and nonfiction.

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