A Princess for Christmas Read online

  Maybe he would, too.

  “Then I have another offer for you,” she said, and her gut tightened as the words slipped out of her throat. This one was even riskier than the first offer she’d made. This one involved opening herself up to another person, making herself vulnerable. Risking—

  Her identity.

  No, she could be careful. She wouldn’t talk about herself, only Harborside.

  “And what are you offering this time?” he said with a smirk. “A famous sculpture in addition to cash on the table?”

  “No.” She took a step forward, ignoring the butterflies raising havoc in her gut. “I am offering me.”

  Jake had heard her wrong.

  He was sure he had. No way Mariabella had just offered herself as a payment to send him packing. Although, stranger things did happen in business, and maybe she was serious. No. She couldn’t be. This woman was too…

  Uppercrust. Too proper in her demeanor, her language, her movements, to be the kind who’d sleep with a man merely to get him to call off a business deal. Right?

  “You’re seriously offering yourself?”

  She nodded. “As your personal tour guide of Harborside. To show you the reasons why it’s perfect the way it is.”

  He chuckled, half relieved she didn’t mean she’d intended to sleep with him and half disappointed. “Why it doesn’t need the big, bad hotelier, you mean.”

  “Exactly.”

  He considered that, his gaze connecting with hers as he thought over her offer. It was insane. He never got personal on a deal. Hadn’t his father taught him that? When they got personal, the company suffered. It was only by staying on the corporate track, thinking with dollars and cents, that profits soared and megacorporations got built.

  Lawrence Lattimore had drilled that lesson into his son for years. Had repeated it over and over again as he’d trained and groomed his son to take over the CEO spot. Don’t get to know the locals, don’t try to think about the people. Concentrate solely on the bottom line. Lawrence had lamented, several times, the mistakes he’d made in letting his heart rule his brain. Don’t do it, he’d warned his son. Think like a CEO, not a person.

  Get in, get the papers signed, then move on to the next town, the next project.

  If Jake agreed to this, he’d be breaking the one sacred rule he’d been taught—never mix business with pleasure. Only an idiot would tell himself that taking the scenic route through Harborside beside a woman as beautiful as Mariabella Romano would be anything other than pleasurable.

  He should be smart. He should leave this bar, get back to work on convincing the locals to sell their shops to him, so the plans for the hotel and condos could move forward. He had too much at stake to screw up this deal. Once Harborside was secure, Lattimore Properties could begin to return to the profitability it had enjoyed, and Jake would have earned the respect of the board.

  Then he could fly to San Francisco. Fill his days with the next property. And the one after that. He kept hoping that one day, he’d finally find enough—

  Enough work. Enough time away from his apartment. Enough time spent with those inanimate objects Will chided him about.

  Enough—

  To forget. To be able to move on. To have a life again.

  Jake opened his mouth to say no to Mariabella, to tell her he didn’t have the time for such a senseless excursion, then his gaze connected with Mariabella’s deep green eyes. Heat grew in the space between them, an awareness uncoiling like a rope. For a second, he saw only her. Not his job, not the papers waiting in his briefcase.

  Just her eyes. Her smile.

  How long had it been since he’d connected with someone? With a woman, at that? How long had it been since he’d anticipated spending time with a woman and thought of something other than work?

  Too damned long.

  He rose, put out his hand and closed the gap. When she took his hand, a surge of electricity ran through him.

  Before his better judgment could say no, he said, “It would be my pleasure.”

  “Better button on,” Mariabella said, “for our first stop.”

  “Button on?” Jake gave her a curious look.

  She cursed her phrasing. It took a second for her brain to make the connections and find the right word choices, a fact she blamed entirely on her richly appointed surroundings. Plush leather interior, heated seats, even a small wine refrigerator at her feet. When Jake Lattimore bought a limo, he apparently did it right. Christmas music flowed softly from the stereo system, the sound of such high quality she could swear Jake had an entire orchestra in the trunk of the limousine.

  She had, of course, been in a limo before. Hundreds of times. Not in the past year and a half, but her entire childhood and teen years had been spent living the life everyone expected of her. That meant dressing the way they thought she should. Living where they thought she should. And yes, even riding in what they thought she should. All to give off the proper image, because Lord knew, her life had been all about images.

  Whether or not those images matched the woman inside hadn’t mattered, not as long as the people were happy.

  “I meant button up,” Mariabella said, pushing the thoughts to the side. “It’s cold outside, and you do not want to get sick.”

  He chuckled. “I haven’t been sick in years, and even if I was, I wouldn’t take the day off. I think my father would have a heart attack if I called in sick.”

  “Really?”

  “I mean that rhetorically. He’s gotten so used to seeing me at work every day, that if I ever stopped, it would be a shock. He counts on me to be there, because I’m the one taking over the company now that he’s retiring and…” Jake sighed. “There are just a lot of expectations that come with being the one in charge. Like no sick days.”

  “I know what you mean. I used to be in a similar situation.” She should have stopped herself before she said that. What was it with this man? Every time she was around him, she said more than she meant to, as if the brakes on her mouth stopped working.

  He arched a brow, studying her. “How so?”

  The limo pulled to a stop, and Mariabella tugged on the silver handle the instant the locks clicked. “Here we are!” She stepped out of the car so fast, the door nearly slammed into the chauffeur’s gut. “Sorry.”

  “Happens all the time, ma’am.” He gave her a grin. “Though most of the time, it’s women running to Mr. Lattimore, not from him. I’m Will Mason, by the way, should you need anything.”

  Jake came around the car and gave the chauffeur a clap on the shoulder. “Are you filling her head with nonsense about me, Will?”

  “Of course not.” Will leaned toward Mariabella. “Only the truth.”

  Jake laughed, an easy sound that she hadn’t heard from him before. “As long as you don’t mention that time in Tallahassee, you’ll stay on the payroll.”

  Will made a motion of zipping his lip, then winked at Mariabella.

  “William…”

  “I wouldn’t dare tell her how you paraglided into that poor woman’s hotel room.” Will made a surprised O and covered his mouth, but his twinkling eyes belied the gesture. The two men clearly had a more friendly relationship than simply employer and employee. Mariabella had never seen any of the palace staff ever talk to her father like that. If they had, they would have been dismissed on the spot.

  She envied Will and Jake’s camaraderie. If she’d had a friend in the palace like that, even one, maybe all those long, boring days would have been more tolerable.

  “He was quite the flyer that night,” Will added. “I think he chose the wrong career. Should have been in the air force, instead of business.”

  Mariabella glanced over at Jake. “That desperate to see your date?”

  Jake scowled. “More like I had troubles with the controls. First time in the air.”

  “Don’t let him fool you. Mr. Lattimore has an adventurous streak that he keeps under wraps,” Will said.

  “
Remind me again why I sign your checks,” Jake said.

  “Because I’m the only one who can keep up with you on a Jet Ski.” Will shivered a bit in the cold. “When I can get you to take time to ride one, which better be soon after making me come to this clone of Alaska.”

  Mariabella watched the exchange, both surprised and amused. Surprised because Will mentioned that Jake had an adventurous side. Somehow, she couldn’t quite see that with this business-only CEO. Secondly, amused because the two men had a repartee that spoke of a long-time friendship, something that showed another aspect to Jake Lattimore.

  An aspect she could like, under different circumstances.

  “And you can beat me at poker, Will,” Jake chuckled again, “but we won’t talk about that, either.”

  “Of course not.” Will grinned, then disappeared back inside the driver’s side of the limousine, leaving Jake and Mariabella alone. Five minutes ago, this tour of Harborside had seemed like a good idea, but now, out of the cocoon of her gallery, and far from the company of friends, Mariabella’s awareness of Jake Lattimore doubled. The way he stood at least a head taller than her, how his shoulders filled his coat, defining the strong V of his torso. And most of all, how long it had been since she’d been kissed. Held. Loved.

  Jake closed his cashmere overcoat, and fastened the buttons, as the winter wind off the ocean began to kick up. “Well, we’re here. At the first stop on your guided tour. What exactly are we seeing?”

  Get back to the point, Mariabella. Harborside, not him.

  “That.” She pointed up, at the top of the black-and-white oblong building beside them.

  “The Harborside Lighthouse? I’ve seen lighthouses before, Miss Romano and—”

  “You haven’t seen this one.” She grabbed his hand, intending only to lead him inside and cut off his protests, but when she touched him, a rush of heat ran through her. She jerked back, and hurried over to the door of the lighthouse. Away from him, and away from the temptation touching him seemed to bring. A quick double knock, then she stepped back to wait.

  “Why aren’t we going inside?”

  “We have to wait for Cletus.” She didn’t turn around, even though she could sense Jake right behind her. Inches away. The heat of his body mingled with hers. And it felt nice.

  Too nice.

  “Cletus?” he asked.

  “The lighthouse keeper.”

  “There are still people who do that?”

  The note of surprise in his voice made her turn around. As soon as she did, she regretted it, because Jake was so close—the stoop was small, after all, only about three feet square, and sharing the space meant close quarters. “Harborside is a traditional town,” she said. Concentrate on the tour, not him.

  “Old-fashioned. Behind the times.”

  “Happy just the way it is.”

  “If you say so.” He gave the rocky shoals around the lighthouse a passing glance, clearly not seeing what Mariabella did. The isolation of the area, the sweet quiet. The utter peace. “I thought lighthouses sat on rocks in the middle of the water.”

  “Some do. And some are on the coast, used to guide the boats into the harbor. To find their way home.” The last word escaped her on a breath. Home.

  When she had to return to Uccelli in two more months, if she ever had a chance to come back to Harborside, would that lighthouse guide her back? Most of all, would Harborside still feel like home, still wrap around her with the same comfort?

  The door opened on creaky hinges, and a small wizened man peeked his head out. “Better be a damned good reason for you to bother me in the middle of the day,” he said.

  “And hello to you, too, Cletus,” Mariabella said. “Glad to see you are in such a happy mood, what with Christmas just around the corner.”

  The older man scowled. “Where’s my muffins?”

  Mariabella propped a fist on her hip. “They will be here Christmas morning, and not a day sooner. And only if you promise to be nice, and come to Christmas Eve dinner with the rest of the family.”

  Cletus grumbled something under his breath, but opened the door and motioned the two of them inside. “Who’s this character?”

  “Jake Lattimore, this is Cletus Ridgemont, who for some reason I do not understand—” she winked at Cletus “—did not want to serve on the Welcome New Neighbors to Harborside Committee.” Mariabella grinned, then waved between the two men. “Jake is here from out of town, and he wanted to see the view from the lighthouse.”

  Cletus looked Jake up and down, as if assessing his worthiness to enter the lighthouse. “You treating her nice?”

  “Uh, yes, sir.” Under Cletus’s scrutiny, Jake had a moment of being back in high school, and enduring the inquisition by his dates’ fathers. Only this wasn’t a date and Cletus wasn’t Mariabella’s father. Was he? She’d mentioned family. Surely this odd character had no relation to her.

  “Good. Our Mariabella deserves the best.” Cletus wagged a finger at Jake. “You two go on up, but don’t let him touch nothin’. He don’t look like the lighthouse-keeper type and I don’t want him breakin’ my light.”

  Mariabella grinned. “Thank you, Cletus. We will only be a minute.”

  “Is that all you’re wearing?” Cletus asked, motioning toward Mariabella’s white wool coat.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “You take my coat,” he said, grabbing a thick khaki parka from a hook by the door. “And you wear it, you hear? Don’t need you getting sick before Christmas. Who’ll make my muffins if you do?”

  Mariabella smiled, then shrugged into the second coat over her own. “Thank you.”

  Cletus only scowled, but Jake could see a softening in the man’s features. He turned away, grumble-grumbling beneath his breath some more.

  For all his bluster, the man clearly held a lot of affection for Mariabella. A twinge of envy ran through Jake. He’d been stuck in his office too long, that was for sure, if he was getting sentimental about a gruff lighthouse keeper who thrust his coat onto people.

  “This way,” Mariabella said, waving Jake toward a circular staircase dominating the room and spiraling toward the top of the lighthouse. Cletus’s sparse living room surrounded the staircase, laid out in typical bachelor style. A bare-bones kitchen fed into a living room decorated with a single sofa and a plain maple end table. A TV sat atop a crate and a small oak bookshelf overflowed with paperback suspense novels.

  Jake paused to look up the stairs—what appeared to be a thousand of them. The lighthouse had to be a hundred feet tall, and every foot would be climbed by them, not an elevator.

  “Ready?” Mariabella asked, taking his hand. Every time she touched him, a surge of electricity ran through Jake, jolting long-dead senses back to life. Parts of him he’d thought had been shut off five years ago reawakened. He hadn’t thought he could open his heart or feel that kind of hope again.

  Not since—

  Not since the future he’d planned had been crushed beneath a tractor trailer on the George Washington Bridge.

  “Uh…yeah,” he said.

  Mariabella released him and started climbing the stairs, and Jake went back to being all business. Every ounce of him slipped back into that persona, as if he’d shed the coat of one man and put on the jacket of another.

  The one of the more sensible man. The one who didn’t get wrapped up in distractions he couldn’t afford.

  Except no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t forget the feeling of her touch, how her hand had been delicate and small, the skin as soft as rose petals.

  As Mariabella walked ahead of him, he couldn’t help but notice her curves. The arches of her calves, the hourglass of her waist, the way her hair hung in dark brown waves nearly to the small of her back. He reached up a hand, aching to run his fingers through those tresses.

  He jerked his hand back. Business only. Stay on track. He was here, not to fall for her or her town, but to utilize this time to sway Mariabella Romano over to his side, to make he
r understand how a Lattimore Resort could revitalize this sleepy little town.

  All business—with no extracurricular activities. He had no intentions of returning to New York with anything other than a handful of signed deeds.

  The wrought-iron staircase narrowed with each step, and when they reached the top of the stairs, they were standing in an enclosed, slightly musty space, with rough stone walls, probably hand-hewn a hundred years ago. Above their heads, the wooden ceiling had a small opening, with a ladder Jake guessed they were meant to climb to get to the final destination.

  “We have to go up that?”

  “You have already climbed a hundred feet, how difficult are a few more?” Mariabella tossed him a grin, then started up the ladder.

  Giving Jake an exceptionally good view of her backside. For a moment, he couldn’t remember exactly why he had objected to this idea in the first place. Why he had thought Mariabella Romano would bring trouble into his life.

  Because right now she was bringing something very interesting to his day.

  So much for business-only thoughts.

  Jake shook his head and started up the ladder after her.

  “Are you ready?” she called down to him.

  “Ready for what?”

  “The view of a lifetime.” Mariabella smiled, then reached out a hand to help him over the edge. He should have refused the hand up—he didn’t need it after all—but a part of him had started to look forward to touching her.

  The part that hadn’t realized he could look forward to a woman again. The part that had been buried in work for way too many years.

  Jake shook his head. If he let his hormones rule his brain, he’d lose focus. He couldn’t afford that, not now. Not with his career and the company’s future riding on this deal.

  Mariabella released his hand, and stood back. They were at the top of the lighthouse, beside a massive red lantern turning in a constant circle, and blinking every other second. “That thing’s huge.”

  “I didn’t bring you up here to see the beacon.”

  “Then what?” He glanced at his watch. He’d agreed to this excursion, but shouldn’t have. He needed to get back to town and convince more people to sign over their properties to Lattimore. That was his priority. Not a lighthouse. And not a woman.