Winter Magic: 4 (The Hawks Mountain Series) Read Free Page A

However, right now, the bare branches allowed him a clear view of Lake Hope’s frozen surface and the mountains ringing the peaceful valley.
    Winter, especially after a fresh snow had fallen, as it had last night, was his favorite season. With the exception of the dreaded holiday. If he could get through the year without having to pass through Christmas, his life would be much happier.
    However, a home office, one of the main reasons he’d opted to build this house in the country, had its definite drawbacks. He glanced over his shoulder at his relatives just in time to intercept Aunt Sarah shaking her head in what he assumed was despair.
    “All we’re asking is that, when you attend this year’s gala, do it with an open mind.” When his father would have spoken, Sarah threw a silencing glance at Henry, telling her brother-in-law without words to let her handle this. “Give the women a chance to get to know you and you them. Who knows? Ms. Right just might be one of those elegant ladies.” She frowned and shook her finger at him again. “But even Ms. Right isn’t going to chance a run-in with someone who appears so disinterested.”
    “I appear disinterested because I am disinterested,” he murmured. Disinterested in everything but keeping his mother’s dream alive. He owed her that much. If it took suffering through all the folderol that went with Christmas to do it, then he’d manage.
    Sarah ignored his apathy. “Do it for me?”
    Aunt Sarah’s plea struck a place in Jonathan’s heart that no one else seemed able to reach. Yes, she’d lied to him, but she’d also loved and taken care of him after his mother’s death. Turning down this wonderful woman, who had done so much for him, bordered on impossible.
    Jonathan sighed, then dropped heavily into his desk chair and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “All right. I give up. I’ll try, but I always feel like a prize bull on the auction block waiting for the highest bidder to take me home for stud services.”
    Silently, he qualified his agreement to himself. Trying didn’t mean succeeding . However, if it meant getting these two off his back, he’d agree to eat mistletoe with whipped cream and a cherry.
    His father grinned, obviously feeling they’d scored a major victory in their crusade to get Jonathan to the altar. “There’s worse things than being thought of as a stud, my boy.” His ample chest expanded just a bit. “Lived with it all my life. Curse of the Princes, your granddad used to call it.”
    Sarah frowned at Henry. “Carrying around your inflated ego is going to hurt your back.” She grinned to take the edge off her words, then patted his sleeve condescendingly. “Get a life, Henry. Even a stud knows when the mares have lost interest.”
    Henry cleared his throat and threw her a disapproving look, then settled back in the leather chair, a slight flush infusing his face. “Perhaps Jonathan is right. We should get on with plans for the Christmas gala.”
    Passing her nephew a smug grin, Sarah extracted a small white card from her dress pocket. “Since the regular planners you work with are not available, I asked Tippy Dawson who did the housewarming party for her new Myrtle Beach summer home.”
    Jonathan held up a hand. “Aunt Sarah, I appreciate the help, but planning a house-warming and planning a charity gala are two entirely different things.”
    “Oh, but, dear, Tippy assured me this woman is a creative genius.” She handed him the business card. “She’s handled a parade of different social events and is supposed to have a natural talent for these things.”
    Jonathan scanned the card. Elegant, with its gold embossed letters, the professional appearance afforded Jonathan some reassurance as to the company’s competence to handle such an important affair. Maybe a company called le Fête Boutique could conduct a gala that would include most of the cream of West Virginia society. Maybe this was the new blood the