Page 6 of Five Days of Christmas Spice

“That’s where I was supposed to be,” I mumble before I can hold the words back. I want off this plane. Checking my watch, I’m relieved we should land in twenty minutes. Then I have to find a way to Vixen’s Paradise, to the tiny town outside of Toronto where the resort is located, next to my Gran’s.

I swallow the lump in my throat.

“How come you aren’t?” His tone is friendly and curious, but my emotional state takes it as an assault, and my skin crawls with irritation at the question.

“I decided to do something more adventurous.”

“Oh? Like what?” He leans forward, his hand stretching across the aisle as if to brush my arm, but he pulls it back to the armrest as he catches me noticing.

I choke back a giggle, wondering how this clean-cut man in an expensive suit will react if I tell him I’m going to be spending Christmas at a kinky adults-only hotel. Yeah, they call themselves a resort, but I’ve been to resorts, and some were nothing more than dressed-up hotels. I don’t have high hopes.

But the man still looks at me as if he’s genuinely curious. He has a slight smirk as if he’s daring me to answer him.

“I’m spending Christmas in the town of Creekside. You’ve probably driven through it.”

“Oh, I’ve done more than drive through it. There’s a world-famous chef in that town, it’s a picturesque village. Would you believe I’m also headed there?”

I laugh. “No. This isn’t some corny movie.”

“Why does it have to be corny? You don’t believe in coincidences?” He smiles, amusement clearly on his face.

I notice the dimple in his chin and glance away. “No.”

“Do you believe in Fate?”

I shake my head. I believe in hard work and well-laid plans.

He flashes me a smile that I could lose myself in and shrugs. “It’s true. My brothers and I own a hotel about thirty minutes from the village.”

“Why are you going there for Christmas?” I can’t help but be curious.

“There is never time off when you own a hotel, but it’s a good chance for me to look over the property. What do you do?” The corners of his eyes crinkle slightly.

He’s attractive. Okay, he’s super-hot, and my libido is taking notice.

I bite my lip. Most of the time, telling men I work as an entertainment agent usually leads to them asking if I could make them a star. “I work in sales,” I spit out.

“You must be very good at it.” He crosses his leg over his knee, taking up all the space he can.

“Why do you say that?”

“A beautiful woman like you who sounds confident? Whatever you sell, I’d buy it.”

“Screen covers,” I think if I had said “vacuum cleaners” it would be more credible, but sometimes thinking fast on your feet leads to screen covers.

The man smiles. Does he believe me? I don’t care.

The seatbelt light chimes on, and a muffled captian’s announcement follows. I presume it’s announcing that we’re starting our descent, but I can’t make out the words.

“Would you have dinner with me at the hotel?” This time, he does touch my arm. It’s a firm, warm touch, just enough to give little shivers.

“At the chintzy hotel? I don’t know. I kind of booked it to get away.”

“Why did you come if you think it’s going to be…‘chintzy’”?

He air-quotes my word, and I blush.

“You know what they say about curiosity.” I shrug.

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