Her Mistletoe Husband Read Free

in question. “My room?”
    His room? The man had unbelievable gall! She glared at him. He might own the D’Amour mansion, but he did not own her inn! “You can’t come in here and take over! Get out!” She thrust a stiff arm toward the door.
    His jaw worked and her gaze was drawn again to the damage she had done to him. It’s a good thing she didn’t know then what she knew now, or she might have clawed him to shreds. “I’m afraid you don’t have a legal leg to stand on, Miss Crosby,” he cautioned. “Don’t make things worse.” He inclined his head toward the stairs, a clear command to be shown to a room.
    She battled an urge to kick him in the shins, but she was afraid she’d just end up seeing Sergeant Hamm again, under less-than-sociable circumstances. Hating the idea that she might have to humor this overbearing man for even a few days, she let her arm fall to her side. She told herself that it would only be until this thing got straightened out, then she could kick him out on his expensively suited backside. “I’m going to fight you on this,” she warned.
    â€œFeel free to sue me, Miss Crosby. But, you’ll lose.” The way he said it, with such cool assurance and total absence of bluster, made her shiver. “My room, Miss Crosby?”
    She eyed him contemptuously. She’d be hanged if she was going to give him one of her guest rooms. “We’re full,” she lied. It wasn’t totally untrue. She’d reserved her two best rooms for her sisters and their husbands, who would be arriving in a few days to spend Christmas and New Years.
    â€œThis is my inn, remember?” he said. “I could send everybody away if I chose. Think real hard.”
    Those silver eyes held a determined glint and alarm skittered up her spine. With a mutinous lift of her chin, she said, “You can stay in the basement parlor. The couch folds out.”
    His expression told her he knew exactly what she was doing, and his brows furrowed at her ploy. “Is there office space down there?”
    â€œMy office is down there.”
    He didn’t looked thoroughly pleased, but finally nodded. “All right. Until a room becomes available.”
    She grabbed the folder and pivoted away. “When hell freezes over, buster,” she growled under her breath.
    â€œI heard that.”
    She spun to glower at him. “I’m thrilled.”
    A mocking brow rose, and Elissa was disappointed to see that her most intimidating glare didn’t have him shaking in his expensive wing tips. “Where’s the basement, Miss Crosby?”
    She marched away from him into the staircase hall, heading toward the kitchen. “It’s on the way to hell,” she snapped back. “I feel sure you’ll find it.”
    She was startled by the derisive chuckle at her back. How dare he find entertainment in the annihilation of her life!
    Â 
    Alex D’Amour didn’t know who he was trying to push around. Elissa Crosby was not a woman to easily give up her dreams. The instant she hit the kitchen, she slammed the folder onto the table, startling Bella, the plump cook. Stubby hands fluttered to a ruffly bodice. Elissa looked up and tried to smile. “Sorry. Could you get me a cup of coffee?”
    The middle-aged woman nodded and hurried to the pot. The coffee in Elissa’s mug had gone cold before she looked up from the documents to take a sip. Making a face, she rubbed her eyes. It looked bad. Mr. D’Amour seemed to have every legal right to the property. But then, the documentation she had looked just as good—and it had passed muster with the probate court and the title company. Even so, the face staring up at her from the police rap sheet looked a little like the man she’d known as the caretaker who’d sold her the old Victorian house. Not exactly like him, but...
    And he had been in a hurry to sell,