Page 57 of Winter Vows

“I wasn’t. It’s just that this is amazing. I had no idea so many people would come. What if we run out of food?”

“Sharon Lynn made more than enough. Besides, most of these people just like getting together. The food’s a bonus.”

“I wonder if I should have hired a cashier for today,” she asked worriedly. “Several people have wanted to make purchases.”

“They’ll be back. I think it’s better that the party is just to show the place off.” He glanced around. “It makes a good impression, doesn’t it? Did it turn out the way you envisioned?”

“You know it did,” she said. “Thanks to you.”

“They were your ideas. I was just the muscle.”

“Still, I can’t thank you enough.”

Her gaze met his, and he felt his head spin. “Trish...”

Whatever he’d been about to say was lost, because she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. It was the same kind of chaste peck on the cheek he’d given her when he’d taken her home on their date. Suddenly, though, he hated the polite little charade, the mockery of the passion that a kiss between them could be.

Before she could move away, he turned his head and captured her mouth beneath his. He took full advantage of her startled gasp, tasting her, savoring the shock of sensations swirling through him, the slight trembling he could feel in her.

When he finally released her, she stared at him mutely, her lips swollen, her eyes bright.

“We need to talk about this,” he said tersely, all too aware that the room had gone silent and that they were being watched with evident fascination. “Later. I’ll come back when this is over.”

Trish nodded.

Because he didn’t want to explain to anyone what had just happened—wasn’t even sure he could explain it—Hardy fled.

He figured he had an hour, two at most, to get a grip on the emotions churning inside him. Otherwise, when he came back here tonight, he was going to break every vow he’d ever made to himself and to Trish.

Thirteen

Trish sensed that she and Hardy were at a major turning point in their relationship. The barely restrained lust simmering between them was about to sizzle out of control. She was no longer in control of her own reactions to him and, she suspected, he was losing his tight rein on his responses to her.

As the party swirled around her, she went through the motions of being a proper hostess. She chatted innocuously, skirted prying questions from the Adamses about Hardy’s sudden disappearance, and made sure everyone ate their fill of scones and little sandwiches.

After a few minutes of forcing herself to play the role, it began to come naturally. She finally remembered the purpose of the party beyond simply showing off the store. She asked people about their book preferences, making mental notes for her next order. She queried them about other items that they wished a local store would carry and collected a whole list of ideas for a gift section.

All the while she kept track of the time, counting the minutes until the afternoon tea was scheduled to end. She knew Hardy would wait until the last guest was gone before making an appearance. Her pulse zipped as she mentally skipped ahead by an hour or so.

What exactly did he want to talk about? The kisses? The barely leashed passion? Was that something someone could sit down and discuss as rationally and dispassionately as the weather? She doubted it. She knew she couldn’t. She had never before felt the out-of-control spinning sensations that Hardy’s touch set off in her. She had nothing to compare them to, no idea if they were the sort of responses that cooled once they’d been allowed to rush wickedly to a natural conclusion.

Maybe Hardy, with all of his practice, could put a name to what was going on between them. But as badly as she wanted to label and identify it, so she could deal with it as straightforwardly as she paid invoices or balanced a checkbook, it irked her that he might have answers that she herself did not.

“Everything okay?” Sharon Lynn asked, studying her worriedly. “You’re not too tired, are you? After all, it’s only been a couple of months since you had the baby. You’ve been pushing yourself to get ready for this.”

“It’s okay,” Trish told her. “I’m fine. I just have a lot on my mind.”

“A lot or one particular man?” Sharon Lynn asked.

“A lot,” Trish insisted.

Sharon Lynn grinned, her expression filled with skepticism. “Whatever you say, but I saw that kiss. If it had been me on the receiving end of it, I’d still be weak-kneed.”

Before Trish could respond to that, Sharon Lynn patted her hand. “Don’t worry. People are starting to leave. I’ll stick around and help you clean up.”

“No,” Trish said a little too emphatically.

Sharon Lynn’s eyes widened. “Someone else coming back to help?”

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