Free Starry Night by Debbie Macomber

Finn and Hennessey stepped inside.
    “What the …”
    Startled, Carrie lost her balance, and with arms flailing at her sides, she started to topple from her perch on the chair. Seeing her predicament, Finn reacted quickly and instinctively, catching her in midair. Carrie issued a small, breathless gasp as her body was pressed hard against his.
    For one wild moment all they did was stare at each other. Her pulse raced, and his eyes went directly to her throat as if he could see her reaction. He didn’t release her, and she realized she was glad to be in his arms. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling.
    His gaze traveled from the throbbing pulse in her neck to her lips, and Carrie’s mouth went dry as his eyes held hers. When did this happen? Another question quickly followed the first—what were they going to do about it? Carrie knewwhat she wanted. She closed her eyes, expecting, hoping that Finn would kiss her.
    He didn’t.
    Gradually he released her, setting her feet down on solid ground. Then he stepped back as though having her this close had burned his senses.
    “What is this?” he asked, his voice ragged, demanding. He hardly sounded like himself.
    “What?” Carrie’s own senses became jumbled. Confused. She wasn’t sure what he meant. It sounded as if he was asking about this sudden arc of awareness that vibrated between them. “I …”
    “This!” He pointed at the ceiling.
    “Oh, that,” she said, feeling foolish, embarrassed, and relieved. “I thought I’d add a bit of holiday spirit to your cabin.”
    He frowned.
    “I can take it down if you want.”
    His response was a soft snort. “And risk you breaking your fool neck a second time? Leave it.”
    “I think it looks great.”
    “You would.”
    “And you don’t?” she pressed.
    He didn’t bother to answer, but instead announced, “I’ll put a roast on for dinner.” She stood by while he put together meat, carrots, and onions in a cast-iron pot and placed it in the oven.
    “What can I do?” she asked, looking to help.
    “You can peel potatoes if you want.”
    “I want.”
    They both seemed eager to put that sensual awkwardness behind them. It was important, she supposed, to ignore the awareness that sprang up so unexpectedly. Finn seemed as determined as she was to pretend it had never happened. Carrie was more than eager to do so, seeing that she’d practically begged him to kiss her. Just thinking about it mortified her. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking, which explained it, because clearly she hadn’t been thinking. Instead, she’d been feeling, and that was dangerous to them both.
    Within a couple of hours the scent of the roast filled the cabin. As she set the table for dinner, Finn disappeared for a couple minutes and returned with a bottle of red wine.
    “Do you like wine?” he asked.
    “Yes, very much.”
    He set the wine bottle in the middle of the table.
    “Are we celebrating?” she asked, teasing him.
    “Yes. Sawyer will collect you come morning.”
    “Of course. How could I have forgotten?” she said. “And you’ll be more than ready to see me go.”
    To her surprise, he didn’t immediately respond.
    When dinner was ready, they sat down across from each other, the roast and assorted vegetables on a platter betweenthem. Finn opened the wine bottle and poured them each a glass.
    “What shall we toast?” she asked, pressing the brim of her glass against his.
    “To cribbage,” he suggested. “And I demand a rematch after dinner.”
    “To cribbage,” she echoed, and smiled.
    Their eyes held for an extra-long moment, and her stomach was filled with butterflies as she realized that this heightened awareness of each other hadn’t gone away. If anything, it was stronger, and was growing more so each moment. Although they both tried to ignore what was happening, it was still there, as real and as profound as when he’d caught her and kept her from falling to the floor.
    They sipped the wine while