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“About that pie and coffee…” She smiled brightly, hoping it would be enough to entice him to say yes.
He stretched out his arm, checked the watch on his left wrist, then ran an appraising look from the top of her head to the tip of her leather boots. “Coffee. Black. One cup.”
Angelina didn’t bother hiding her smirk. That was good enough for now. One whiff of the diner’s homecooked goodies and he’d be a goner.
Hopefully, he’d go for her proposal just as easily.
Chapter Three
Sean leaned back in the vinyl booth, wishing good manners permitted the loosening of one’s belt at the table. The smirk Angelina Weiss gave him when he agreed to accompany her to Kris Kringle Diner for a quick cup of coffee was now a well-deserved self-satisfied grin.
“So?” She took a sip of hot chocolate, the tip of her tongue swiping away a dot of whipped cream from her upper lip.
The gesture wasn’t intentionally provocative, but Sean’s cock hardened.
God, he really needed to unfasten his belt. Between three pieces of pie, two cups of coffee, and now a hard-on for the voluptuous platinum blonde across from him, he feared the button would fly off and hit one of the other diners in the eye.
“So…what?” he asked, having lost track of their conversation.
“Which pie did you like best?”
“This time of year, I have to go with the pumpkin butter cheesecake.” He pretended to resettle the napkin in his lap so he could adjust the rigid length of his erection pressing painfully against his zipper.
“That’s a fan favorite around here,” she said. “It’s so popular the diner started offering a delivery option.”
“I’m surprised to learn how innovative some of the businesses in town are.”
“Santa’s Workshop used to be the primary draw for visitors to North Pole. Now we’re competing with huge resorts that take advantage of the year-round outdoor activities, as well as tourists who come for the Olympic history of Lake Placid.” Angelina’s blue-gray eyes widened with enthusiasm as she launched into another testimonial about the hamlet. “Small-scale cottage industries like gourmet baked goods and handmade replicas of the costumes worn by skaters at the Winter Olympics boost the earning potential for local businessowners. Many have online stores featuring regional products, but what we really need is something to attract more visitors. North Pole has become a side trip for people instead of the primary destination.”
“Santa’s Workshop sounds…quaint.” He chose his words carefully, not wanting to insult the small community Angelina obviously adored. “Nowadays, people expect more. Bigger. Fancier. They have options like cruise ships with ten different restaurants and a new floor show every night. They can book tours to visit ten countries in five days. There are all-inclusive tropical resorts where one price tag covers food, drink, accommodations, amenities, excursions, and activities.”
“Don’t forget Disney World,” she added sarcastically. “The trip of a lifetime because it costs thousands and thousands of dollars.”
“I’m just saying consumers have different expectations today than they did fifty years ago.” He looked out the plate-glass window facing North Pole Lane. The sidewalks were crowded with visitors who’d traveled to upstate New York for the autumn foliage. Once the trees shed their wealth of crimson and gold leaves, November and December would remain busy, catering to holiday revelers and families bringing kids to Santa’s Workshop. But what then?
If he wanted his campground to be profitable, he needed to learn more about regional economics. Accepting Angelina’s invitation was the best decision he’d made since arriving in North Pole. If anyone could impart the information he needed, it was her.
“Tell me why you were stalking me,” he said. He needed to focus on the reason he was here instead of admiring how her silky white-blond hair curved over one shoulder and the way her lush breasts filled out her sweater.
“Trailing you,” she corrected, her creamy skin flushing.
“Semantics,” he said with an amused huff.
“It’s a small town,” she began, eyes on the spoon she idly straightened. “We know about the terms of your inheritance.”
“If the campground isn’t renovated and ready to reopen by January 15th, the land goes to the town.” Until Nikki and Josh stabbed him in the back, he’d planned to ignore the bequest. What did a wealthy, well-respected New York City architect need with a neglected patch of land two hundred and fifty miles away?
The answer to that question was glaringly obvious: North Pole Camping & Cabins offered him an escape, a chance to reclaim his dignity and regain control of his life.
“Unless you’re bringing in your own crew, it will never happen.” She lifted her eyes to his, the silver glimmer now steely gray.
“There’s plenty of manpower around here,” he scoffed. “I did my research.”
“Yes, but none of them will work for you.”
She inhaled, the rise of her breasts sending another surge of blood to his cock. Goddamn, he thought. He’d just broken up with his fiancée, and now he was panting after Angelina like a college frat boy confronted with his first pair of tits.
“I don’t understand. Why won’t the locals work for me if they’re available? Seems to me the extra income would be appreciated.”
