1 Chapter 1

“Good morning and Merry Christmas.” The barista sent out a warm greeting as I entered the coffee shop. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you look a bit out of your element this morning. Is this your first time, or is it the blizzard that has you mystified?”

“My first time,” I replied without much thought as I studied the contents in the pastry case.

“You mean to tell me I’m going to be serving a virgin this morning? It’s been a long time since I’ve had that honor. That’s the best Christmas gift I could have received this year.”

His response took me by surprise. I turned my attention away from the pastries on display, noticing for the first time the rugged, sexy barista behind the counter. His eyes were a dark olive-green set within his oval face. A thick coating of whiskers covered the curved line of his jaw. His mid-length black hair, flecked with gray around the temples, spilled out from underneath his dark brown fedora. His paisley burgundy and purple shirt with the top three buttons undone exposed a thick covering of black hair across his stout chest. A brown vest complimented his outfit. Our eyes met. He raised his eyebrows and smiled as if waiting for a witty response from me. I decided to play along.

“Well, you could call me a born-again virgin. I’ve had your brand of coffee before, but it was with someone else.”

“Your words wound me. We’ve only known each other a brief time, and here I find out you’re already cheating on me.” He brought his hands to his heart and frowned before breaking into a seductive smile. A dimple formed on each side of his face. “I cannot stay mad at you for a moment longer, my love. I forgive you for your indiscretions of the past, but no more. I insist that you be loyal to me and me alone.” He leaned over the counter with a playful grin etched on his face. “Now, tell me what it is you desire this cold Christmas Eve morning?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” I peered into the glass case. “I’ll have a large house coffee and the last two lonely little puff pastry things.”

“There’s nothing else here that entices you? Perhaps something other than coffee to keep you warm?” He stood back, spread his arms, and tilted his head.

“Well, yes there is.” I slipped my tongue between my lips. “It just doesn’t seem to be the right time or place.” I nodded at the line forming behind me. You’re here working, and I was on my way to Penn Station, but apparently the storm is too much for even the trains.”

“Well, I for one am glad the weather messed up your travel schedule.”

“Pardon me?”

“Otherwise we would have never met.” He winked. “I must say you have impeccable taste, even if you don’t know what the pastries are called.” He pressed the coffee and poured the steaming black liquid into a mug. “For future reference, the last two lonely ‘puff pastry things’ as you call them are petite choux Chantillys. Take a careful look at them,” he said, placing them on the plate. “Most people would say they are identical, but even things appearing similar in every way have subtle differences. Remember that, if nothing else. Well, and perhaps my name.”

“You haven’t told me your name.”

“Seven twenty-nine.” He ignored my comment about his name.

I placed a ten on the counter. “Keep the change.” I gathered my breakfast and walked into the old-fashioned lobby of the hotel, which served as the coffee shop’s lounge and seating area. The lobby was decorated for the holiday with a large Christmas tree in the center of the room. The star at the top cleared the ten-foot ceiling by a few inches at most. Red and green ribbons and bows adorned the walls with large silver ornaments at each arch. Christmas music played from overhead speakers in a soft, muted tone. I took a seat along the center edge of the room to admire the sparkling lights all around me and to bring some holiday cheer to an otherwise lonely Christmas.

In the excitement of my conversation, I had forgotten to ask for cream and sugar for my coffee. I looked down at the puff pastries on my plate, noticing the soft, sweet whipped goodness between the two halves of flaky dough. I scooped out some of the cream with my finger and stirred it into the hot coffee. It wasn’t the most elegant thing to do in a high-end New York hotel, but no one seemed to notice.