Page 3 of Christmas With The Tycoon

“It might,” she says. “Or it might complicate things early.”

Oh, that was a direct hit. I gesture toward the lounge area near the tree, and she follows. Carla, the server, watches us with open curiosity before returning to a tray of drinks. As soon as we sit, Willow opens a folder. It’s my proposal packet, marked with color-coded tabs. This seems thorough and efficient. But, it also means danger ahead.

She sets aside the first tab and reviews the next. “Your proposed restoration of the grand hall is…surprisingly thoughtful,” she says after a moment. “Most developers would’ve gutted it.”

I fight the impulse to preen at that. “Hearthstone deserves better than shortcuts.”

She nods once, almost appreciative, but it lasts only a second before her spine straightens again. As she shifts in her seat, the light glances across her face. It’s gorgeous with high cheekbones, a dusting of pink from the cold, and long lashes that cast faint shadows when she glances down. Her lips press together as she reads, soft but held with purpose. Every detail about her is refined and intentional. For reasons I can’t begin to justify, I want to keep watching her.

She flips to the next tab. “But some areas concern me.” She taps the retail expansion portion. “This is excessive.”

“It’s necessary,” I counter. “A luxury lodge won’t sustain itself in a town this size without added revenue streams.”

Her brow arches. “Hope Peak is not a mall, Mr. Sinclair.”

“And it’s not a museum either,” I fire back. “If you want Hearthstone preserved, it has to be functional.”

Her lips tighten. Mine fight the urge to smirk.

“This lodge matters to us,” she says quietly. “It mattered long before you arrived.”

“And it won’t matter much longer if it collapses,” I reply, softer than I intend. “I’m trying to save it.”

She goes still. The firelight warms the planes of her face, turning irritation into something deeper, almost vulnerable.Don’t read into it.I don’t want to read into it.

She clears her throat. “We’ll discuss everything Wednesday.”

I translate this as she needs space from me. The awareness between us is too immediate, too loud. I nod, though I’m far less composed internally. “Of course.”

She rises and I stand with her. Cold wind gusts inside as the lobby doors open. Willow looks up at me, eyes bright, but a slight smirk in her smile.

“Enjoy your stay, Mr. Sinclair.”

Her voice has softened. But, it seems fake. I watch her walk out of the lobby, signaling the valet for her car. She doesn’t look back. I wish she would. Because for the first time in a very long time, I have the unsettling sense that I’m not simply here to rebuild a lodge. I’m here to be devastatingly tempted by the woman determined to protect it.

Chapter 3

Willow

By Wednesday morning, Hope Peak is buzzing like a hive dressed in Christmas lights. The bakery windows glow gold with fresh pastries, and someone has added two tall light-up toy soldiers to the entrance of City Hall. I would normally love this. But today, my stomach is a knotted garland of nerves. Avery rushes over as soon as I step through the front doors, clutching my meeting binder.

“You’re early,” she says breathlessly. “Is he already here? Should I bring coffee? Should I …”

“Avery.” I put a hand on her shoulder. “Breathe.”

She inhales sharply, holds it, then lets out a dramatic sigh. “Sorry. Everyone is talking about him.”

“Everyone in this town talks about everything,” I mutter, flipping through the agenda. “Doesn’t make it important.”

She gives me a look. “You saw him, didn’t you?”

I keep walking, refusing to dignify that with a reaction.I won’t tell her thatnot only did I meet the man, Graham Sinclair has consumed my thoughts … and dreams for the past thirty-six hours.

Avery gasps. “Youdid. Oh no. Is he …”

“We are not having this conversation,” I say, pushing open the meeting room doors before she can finish. But unfortunately, the conversation is waiting for me anyway. Because Graham Sinclair is already here.

He’s standing at the far end of the table reviewing blueprints with his jacket off, sleeves rolled, and confidence radiating from every perfectly controlled inch of him.