“Why should you have known?” Nick’s hand paused on the shift.
“Yesterday I got a message on my answering machine from Dad. He said it was urgent that we talk. When I tried to call him back, I got Jasmine and she didn’t know where he was. That’s when I caught a flight from Seattle to Fairbanks.”
“Did he say what he wanted to talk about?”
“No.” Mary sighed. “My father is normally pretty laid back. He must be in big trouble, that’s all I can think.” She’d been talking to Nick as if he weren’t an outsider, weren’t a man she’d met only a couple of hours ago. Mary turned to him, her eyes narrowing. “Why are you in North Pole? You told Jasmine you knew my father. You told me you had business with him. I don’t recall my father ever mentioning your name.”
He pulled out of the parking lot, easing onto the snow-covered road. “He probably hasn’t. We don’t talk much.”
“Obviously.”
North Pole sported at least a foot of snowfall, giving credence to the town’s winter wonderland atmosphere.
Mary gestured toward a large old house banked in snow. “This is the B and B.”
After they secured rooms, they climbed the stairs and stood back-to-back at their respective rooms.
Nick turned to Mary. “I’d like to help you find your father.”
She faced him, her brow furrowing. “Thanks, but you really don’t need to get involved. You’ve already done enough getting me here.” She turned her back to him and jammed her key into the lock on her bedroom door. She liked to think she could handle the situation on her own, but the fact her father was missing, and no one seemed to have a clue as to his whereabouts swept over her in an overwhelming wave. Her hand trembled on the metal key.
“At least meet me for breakfast somewhere besides here. I like more than a continental breakfast and I’m new to town.” He paused as though waiting for her response.
Mary couldn’t find her voice to say no. Her throat clogged with unshed tears.
“If it makes you feel better, we can go Dutch.”
She glanced over her shoulder again, her lips forming the word no. But one look into deep brown, twinkling eyes and she couldn’t resist. Much as she hated to admit, she needed help. Maybe by having breakfast with the man she could get to know him better before she committed to his offer. She swallowed hard and, before she could change her mind, she blurted, “How about the Christmas Towne Diner at eight o’clock? It’s just across the street.”
“Sounds good.” He gave her half a smile. “Good night, Mary Christmas.” Then he closed his door behind him, the deep resonance of his voice lingering in the hallway, warming Mary’s insides.
Their rooms were located across the hall from each other and for some reason that idea disturbed Mary, not like an irritant, but like a full-body awareness. She was far too conscious of Nick’s good looks, broad shoulders and brown-black eyes. Not to mention, the more she was in his company, the more she seemed to rely on him. And she didn’t want to rely on anyone but herself. She’d relied on her father for so long, she’d forgotten to have a life for herself. The time she’d been in Seattle had slammed that observation home. She didn’t know how to be alone, and she still didn’t like it, but she was trying.
Mary spent the next hour calling everyone she knew in North Pole, asking if they’d seen her father. Those she managed to speak to replied with the same news. Not since yesterday.
Discouraged, she gathered her toiletries and made a run down the hallway for the bathroom. As she reached the door, it opened and Nick St. Claire stepped out. With a towel thrown around his hips and nothing else, he could melt the heaviest snowfall. Water dripped from his midnight-black hair. A particular droplet landed on his chest and tangled in the dark, crisp hairs.
Mary focused on that drop, her mouth going as dry as Arizona in August.
“It’s all yours,” he said.
Her mouth dropped open and she forced her gaze upward to his eyes.
Nick’s grin made Mary’s face burn. “The shower. It’s all yours.”
Snapping her mouth shut, Mary pressed her brows together. How could this stranger throw her into such a state of moronic confusion? “Of course.” She stepped around him, bumping into his bare arm. The scent of soap and shampoo wafted across her senses.
As she reached the security of the bathroom and closed the door behind her, a soft chuckle echoed in the hallway. Mary snapped the lock over the doorway and leaned against the wooden panels. Surely, he didn’t think his bare chest and broad shoulders had her confused. Did he?
Her face burned hotter. Damn, the man was trouble. She should never have agreed to meet him in the morning at the diner. As soon as she finished in the shower, she’d tell him she’d had something come up and that she couldn’t have breakfast with him. Squeezing her eyes tight, she inhaled and exhaled, concentrating on banishing the image of a shirtless Nick from her memory.
As if!
She hurried through her shower, brushed her teeth and pulled on her fluffy bathrobe. Still practicing what she’d say to Nick, she stepped out of the bathroom, heading for the door across the corridor from hers.
A big man bulked out in a winter-white parka, ski mask and snowpants stood with his hand on the knob of her bedroom door. When he spotted Mary, he barreled down the hall and slammed his shoulder into her, exiting out the rear of the building.
Mary banged into the wall, her breath knocked out of her. Pain smashed into her shoulder blade and radiated through her back and she cried out.
