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“Tyler and a couple of the other instructors take small groups on snowmobile rides through the forest. We’re careful to stick to a defined route so we’re less likely to disturb wildlife, but it’s something most people enjoy around here. You need to put that helmet on and to do that you need to remove this…” He removed the clip from the back of her head and her hair slithered down in a sheet of tempting honey-gold. One strand curled across her cheek and brushed the corner of her full mouth.
Lust slammed into him.
Deciding he was in more trouble than he’d thought, Jackson took the helmet from her and pushed it onto her head. He secured it, noticing that she was avoiding eye contact. He might have thought nothing of it had it not been for the streak of color across her cheekbones and the fact she was barely breathing.
He knew the feeling.
“Are you ready?”
“Ready?” Her voice was a startled croak.
“For our trip.” Damn, he wasn’t doing any better than she was. All he wanted to do was pull off that helmet and kiss that mouth. “Through the forest.”
“You want me to drive that thing?”
“Not this time. This time I’ll drive ‘that thing.’” And the sooner the better, for both their sakes. “You’re the passenger.”
“Mmm—” Her eyes were fixed on the snowmobile now. “I’m not a good passenger. I prefer to be the one in the driving seat.”
He had no trouble believing that. From what he’d seen so far, Kayla Green was big on control, most especially when it came to her own emotions. “But you’ve never driven one before, so if we both want to live it would probably be better if I drove this time.” He pushed his own helmet onto his head. “I’ll teach you. But not today.”
She opened her mouth to argue and then closed it again. “Does it go fast?”
“Only if I make it go fast.”
“Tell me you’re not a speed fiend like your brother.”
Back in control, Jackson smiled and pulled on his gloves. “I could tell you that—” he flipped down the shield on her helmet and swung his leg over the saddle “—but I was raised not to tell a lie. Move when I move and lean when I lean.”
“Jackson—”
“Hop on, Cinderella, or that clock will be striking midnight before you’ve even arrived at the damn ball.”
Gingerly, she slid her leg over the back of the snowmobile. “I’m really not sure about this—”
“You have to be sure of something before you do it? That must be limiting. Hold on to me.”
“I can sit without help.” Her voice was muffled by the helmet, and he realized that if it did nothing else, the helmet would stop him kissing her.
“Just like you could walk on ice without help. We both remember how that turned out.” Smiling to himself, Jackson gave it some choke and cranked the engine—and felt Kayla’s arms shoot around his waist. He shook with laughter. “You okay back there? Only I thought you said you could sit without help.”
“If you’re laughing at me you’re going to be sorry.”
But he wasn’t sorry. He wasn’t sorry about any of it. Not about bringing her here and certainly not about taking her on this trip. He spent his days trying to make numbers add up into a different pattern, defusing tension, soothing anxieties while all the time trying to do things the way he knew they had to be done if this whole place was going to thrive again. He was weighed down by duty and responsibility, and he didn’t often get to throw off that weight. But Kayla Green made him feel lighter. She also made him feel a hell of a lot of other things he was trying to ignore.
He took it steady to begin with, allowing her time to get used to the rhythm of the snowmobile and the feel of moving across the snow and ice. At one point he heard her gasp and felt her tighten her grip on him, but then they left the resort behind and soon they were speeding along winding trails, through dense, heavily wooded forest.
It was a perfect blue-sky winter day. The overnight fall of snow had added a layer of soft powder to the groomed trail and the surface sparkled under the bright sun.
He thought he heard her laugh and he increased the speed, gently touching the throttle to keep the machine moving.
Jackson thought about the times he and his brothers had raced along this trail, risking life and limb, leaving their mother racked with worry. Sheer guts and enthusiasm had bred skill, and now he knew where to steer, how much throttle to use to get the best performance from the machine and he pushed it to the limits.
When they reached the Chocolate Shack, he slowed and pulled off the trail.
A curl of smoke rose from the chimney and a few skiers wrapped in warm layers were seated at tables outside, a slash of color against a background of white.
“That was amazing! I want to spend the rest of my life doing that.” Breathless and laughing, she slid off the back of the snowmobile, flipped up the shield on her helmet and glanced around her, enchanted. “This place is gorgeous. How does anyone ever find it?”
“There are trail maps. And its reputation means people make the effort. They’re famous for their whipped hot chocolate.”
“Whipped hot chocolate? That sounds delicious.” She pulled off the helmet and her hair flowed over her shoulders like sunlight, knocking all coherent thoughts out of his brain.
It wasn’t just the color, although he wasn’t about to object to natural blond—it was the way it swung, silky and soft, just inviting a man to reach out and slide his hands into it. Tangled and slightly messed by the helmet, her hair sparked thoughts of how she would look waking in the early morning after a night of hot screaming sex. Everything about her made him think of sex, and he realized how long it was since he’d had some serious rest and relaxation. Just for once it would have been nice to take a break from rescuing his family. He had several ideas of how he’d choose to spend the time, and none of them included rest. They did, however, include Kayla Green. Naked. Smiling at him the way she was smiling now.
He wondered how she’d react if he did what he was longing to do and kissed that mouth. Then he realized that mouth was moving. “Sorry—did you say something?”
“I said it sounds delicious.”
“What sounds delicious?”
“The hot chocolate.” She looked puzzled. “What else?”
What else? He was on the verge of revealing exactly what else but he stopped himself.
He had responsibilities, and none of them involved having hot screaming sex with Kayla Green. “Waffles,” he said thickly. “The waffles are good.”
“Sounds delicious.” The cold air had put color in her cheeks. Or maybe something else was responsible for the sudden flush. The same something that was burning inside him. “The snowmobile was fantastic. I can’t remember when I last had a high like that when I wasn’t working.”
It told him a lot about her that her highs came from work.
Unable to help himself, Jackson pushed her hair back from her face, and her smile froze as if she suddenly remembered that she didn’t do this.
“Jackson—”
“Whipped hot chocolate.” He heard the roughness of his own voice and pulled his hand away. “Let’s go and have some of that.” Before he gave in to temptation and had something else.
THE CHEMISTRY SWIRLED between them, brushing over her skin and darting through her body, sharp and terrifying. It drew her in, drew her to him. And she knew the source of the attraction was more than a pair of blue eyes and strong shoulders. His strength wasn’t restricted to the physical. It went deeper.
Even after a comparatively short time in his company, it was easy to see why he was the one his family turned to in a crisis. Another man might have chosen to focus on his own business. Jackson O’Neil had chosen to come home and do what needed to be done. And from what she’d seen so far, it was a thankless task.
He glanced at her. “Inside or out?”
“Outside.” She was breathless, and she didn’t know whether it came from the sheer exhilaration of speeding through deep snow along a forest trail or being near him.
“You’re not cold?”
“I like looking at the trees.” She picked a table near to the cabin and breathed in the smell of wood smoke and forest. Sunlight filtered through the trees. The sky was a Caribbean blue, the temperatures Arctic. The contrast fascinated her. “I had no idea winter could be this pretty.”
“It’s the best time, providing you’re dressed for it.” Jackson put his helmet down on the table next to her and trudged through the snow to the door of the cabin.
She shouldn’t have watched him, but she couldn’t help it. He was in his element here, outdoors in the mountains, confident and comfortable in the harsh surroundings of snow and ice. And she wasn’t alone in her appreciation of his qualities. Two women at the adjacent table were looking at him, too, gazes lingering.
Kayla looked away and focused on the snow-laden trees.
She couldn’t remember ever being anywhere so peaceful. The only sound was the occasional dull thud as deeply piled snow tumbled from a branch onto the snowy forest floor.
It was a million miles from Manhattan.
A million miles from her life.
“Here.” A large mug of hot chocolate appeared in front of her. Jackson pulled out the chair across from her and straddled it. “People ski for miles to sample Brigitte’s Belgian hot chocolate. It’s legendary around these parts.” He’d pulled down the zip of his jacket and the neck of his jumper brushed his darkened jaw.
She rarely noticed men because she was too busy thinking about other things, too busy rushing through her life to ever take a second look, but Jackson was a man who deserved a second look. And a third. In fact the women at the table next to her hadn’t stopped looking.
It bothered her that she didn’t want to stop looking, either.
Instead, she focused on the swirls of cream that topped her hot chocolate. “So this is a special recipe? What’s in it?”
“Calories,” he said drily. “Brigitte guards the exact combination with her life, but I think it involves milk, chocolate, vanilla, fresh whipped cream and cinnamon. You might want to call your cardiologist before you take a sip.”
“Is it worth the extra hours in the gym?”
“You’re going to work off those calories fast enough. I’m taking you skiing this afternoon.”
“I haven’t already humiliated myself enough in the snow? You want more?” Kayla paused with the mug halfway to her lips. “Can’t we just explore on the snowmobile?” She was surprised by how much she’d enjoyed being outdoors—the crisp fresh air and the sting of cold on her cheeks. Then there was the feeling of being pressed close to Jackson, but she wasn’t going to think about that… .
“You’re getting the whole Snow Crystal experience, Kayla Green. No wimping out.”
He had a way of persuading people to do exactly what he wanted them to do, she thought. He knew when to push hard, when to back off. When to employ a steely look and when to smile. He had his mother’s warmth and interest in people. He was a man who took the trouble to look beneath the surface.
It unsettled her.
She didn’t want him looking beneath the surface. She wasn’t looking for depth. She didn’t want depth.
“Just as long as the whole Snow Crystal experience doesn’t include bear and moose.” She sipped her chocolate and closed her eyes. It was the best thing she’d tasted, the hot velvety sweetness made even more perfect by the freezing temperatures biting through her clothing. “I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
“Good, isn’t it?”
She opened her eyes and saw that he was smiling. “Worth two solid weeks on the treadmill.”
“You haven’t truly lived until you’ve tasted Brigitte’s hot chocolate.”
“It’s wicked.” She tasted cream, chocolate and the burst of cinnamon and savored it all—flavor, scent and texture. As she licked cream from her top lip, she saw that he was watching her.
“I get the sense you don’t usually indulge.”
Kayla curled her fingers around the mug, warming her hands, staring down at the chocolate flakes sprinkled onto swirls of whipped cream. “That depends on what you mean by indulge.”
“Doing something just for the sheer pleasure of it.” Somehow the atmosphere had shifted. There was tension where tension shouldn’t exist. Heat where there should have been cold.
“Work is my indulgence.”
“Work can’t be an indulgence. Not even if you enjoy it.”
“Of course it can. There’s nothing like the high you get from winning a big account, or getting a client profiled in their target media.”
“Nothing?” He leaned across and brushed his thumb over her mouth, and she stilled, feeling that touch right through her.
“What are you doing?”
“Removing chocolate from your lips.”
“I could have done that.”
“I guess you could.” He lowered his hand slowly. “But I did it.”
Heart pounding, she touched her fingers to her mouth where his had been only moments earlier. “Do all the O’Neils touch a lot? Last night your mother wanted to hug me, and she’d only just met me.”
“My mother has always known how to give a warm welcome. Does it bother you?”
Yes, it bothered her. “I suppose I’m not used to it.”
“You don’t come from a family of huggers?”
“Why are you so interested in my family?”
“Just a friendly question, Kayla. But if it makes you uncomfortable, you don’t have to answer.”
It made her uncomfortable. He made her uncomfortable.
She tried not to look at the width of those shoulders or the warmth of his gaze. “My family wasn’t tactile.”
“Wasn’t?”
“I mean isn’t.” Unused to talking about her family, she handled it clumsily, but he let it go.
“How did you end up in public relations?”
The shift in conversation was a relief. “When I graduated, I went for an interview with an advertising agency in London. They had a sister PR agency and during my interview they decided I was exactly what they were looking for. It took about six months to discover I had an aptitude for finding media angles and selling them to the press. After that I was promoted pretty quickly.”
“It must have been hard, moving to the U.S.”
“Not really. I didn’t have anything keeping me in London.”
“Your family isn’t there?”
And, just like that, they were right back to that question. “My mother lives in New Zealand. My father, in Canada.”
