Christmas in Good Hope (A Good Hope Novel Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

muscular legs.
    She smiled at the pleasant memory and opened the gate. Like the sidewalk on both sides of the property, the walk leading to the house had been recently shoveled.
    There were lights on upstairs, but the main floor was dark. Ami knocked on the door, then took a moment to brush the snow from her coat and stomp her boots on the mat.
    After several seconds with no response, she knocked again, using more force.
    This time, lights on the main level flicked on. Seconds later she heard the dead bolt snap. The door swung open and Beck stood blocking the doorway, wearing jeans and a navy, long-sleeved Henley.
    He was tall, with a lean, rangy build and a striking face that was all hard angles and planes. He wore his rich chocolate hair longer than when he’d first arrived. The slightly wavy strands brushed the top of his shirt. His eyes, the same color as his hair, held intelligence and perpetual wariness.
    “This is a surprise.” Puzzled, his gaze searched hers. “What brings you by, Ami?”
    The way he spoke her name—Am-mee—in that soft southern drawl always made her shiver. She supposed all southern drawls were supersexy.
    “Hi, Beck.” She gestured to the warmth flooding from the inside out. “Invite me in?”
    After a barely perceptible hesitation, he moved back, giving her space to enter.
    As she stepped inside, Ami was struck by the clean, fresh scent of him. He smelled of soap and shampoo and an indefinable male scent that had desire curling low in her belly. The thought that she might indeed be lusting after Beckett appalled her.
    She’d only recently gotten to know the man, yet here she was, wondering what he looked like naked. The heat that rushed through her was surprising in its intensity. Though Ami was no shy virgin, her two love affairs had been eons ago, and physical intimacy had been a carefully considered decision.
    There had been no punch of lust.
    No spicy thoughts heating her cheeks.
    Coming here, in this frame of mind, had been a mistake.
    The odd thing was that Ami hadn’t known she was in this frame of mind . . . until she’d seen Beck.
    She edged back into the open doorway. “We can talk about this tomorrow. Just so you know, I’m planning on bringing Cronuts. I don’t know if you’ve ever had one, but they’re really good. Are you familiar with them?” Without giving him a chance to answer or her to take a breath, she continued, “They’re a croissant-doughnut hybrid. My customers love them. I’ll bring a Danish for you, just in case you don’t share my enthusiasm.”
    She was babbling, knew she was babbling, but couldn’t seem to stop herself.
    When he stepped closer, her speech came even faster. “Cronuts were invented by a sous chef in New York City. Right away they were this huge success and—”
    “Ami.”
    Something in the way he said her name silenced her, even as her heart continued its erratic rhythm. “Yes, Beck?”
    “It’s cold out there.” He took her arm and tugged her farther into the foyer and shut the door firmly behind her. “Now, tell me why you came.”
    Buying some time, Ami shifted her gaze from those smoldering eyes to the parlor. She blinked. Looked again.
    The home that had once boasted luxurious Persian rugs and an amazing decor, looked sad and empty and old. The wallpaper—a delicate rose pattern—had begun to peel. It was obvious now that those beautiful floor coverings had been cloaking hardwood in desperate need of refinishing.
    She turned to Beck. “It’s empty.”
    His quicksilver smile was gone so quickly she wondered if she’d only imagined it.
    “Stellar observation skills, Miss Bloom.”
    Ami inclined her head in a regal arch. “Noticing when a room is empty is a particular talent of mine.”
    This time she was certain his lips twitched.
    “What can I do for you?” he asked.
    She had to give the guy credit. Beck obviously subscribed to the notion if you don’t get an answer when you first ask, try, try