Sleigh Bells in the Snow
Sarah Morgan
Once upon a time Kayla loved Christmas Now she’s more dedicated to her job than decking the halls, and can’t wait for the ‘most wonderful time of the year’ to be over.Until she arrives at the enchanting Snow Crystal ski resort, determined to win gorgeous owner Jackson as a marketing client.But wooing Jackson professionally quickly turns personal as they spend flirty festive nights in this glittering winter wonderland.With snowflakes swirling and sleigh bells ringing…could Jackson be the one to make Kayla fall back under the Christmas spell?Snow Crystal trilogyBook 1 - Sleigh Bells in the SnowBook 2 - Suddenly Last SummerBook 3 - Maybe This Christmas While the Snow Crystal novels can easily be read as standalone stories, you'll likely enjoy reading the earlier books in the series too!Praise for Sarah Morgan 'Sarah Morgan puts the magic in Christmas' – Now'Sarah Morgan continues to hang out on my autobuy list and each book of her that I discover is a treat' - Smart Bitches, Trashy Books'Full of romance and sparkle' – Lovereading'Morgan's brilliant talent never ceases to amaze' - RT Book Reviews'Dear Ms Morgan, I'm always on the lookout for a new book by you…' - Dear Author‘Morgan is a magician with words' - RT Book Reviews'Definitely looking forward to more from Sarah Morgan' - Smexy Books
Praise for Sarah Morgan (#uc79e69d0-c61e-5f6f-ac67-ea03e1e3f6a6)
‘Sarah Morgan puts the magic in Christmas!’
—Now magazine
‘Full of romance and sparkle’
—Lovereading
‘Morgan is a magician with words.’
—RT Book Reviews
‘Sarah Morgan continues to hang out on my autobuy list and each book of hers that I discover is a treat.’
—Smart Bitches, Trashy Books
‘Morgan’s brilliant talent never ceases to amaze.’
—RT Book Reviews
‘Dear Ms Morgan, I’m always on the lookout for a new book by you…’
—Dear Author
‘Definitely looking forward to more from Sarah Morgan’
—Smexy Books
As a child SARAH MORGAN dreamed of being a writer and, although she took a few interesting detours on the way, she is now living that dream. With her writing career she has successfully combined business with pleasure and she firmly believes that reading romance is one of the most satisfying and fat-free escapist pleasures available. Her stories are unashamedly optimistic and she is always pleased when she receives letters from readers saying that her books have helped them through hard times.
Sarah lives near London with her husband and two children, who innocently provide an endless supply of authentic dialogue. When she isn’t writing or reading Sarah enjoys music, movies and any activity that takes her outdoors.
Readers can find out more about Sarah and her books on her author page at www.millsandboon.com/sarahmorgan. She can also be found on Facebook and Twitter.
Sleigh Bells in the Snow
Sarah Morgan
For my family, with love
Dear Reader,
Last Christmas my family and I decided to break with our usual holiday tradition. Instead of staying at home, we rented a log cabin in a forest near a lake. We spent our days crunching through fresh snow and our evenings curled up by a blazing log fire.
We took Christmas with us on that holiday (yes, even the turkey and don’t ever ask me about the tree…), but it occurred to me that it would be the perfect place to go if someone wanted to escape all the festivities.
There was plenty of time for dreaming and it was while I was curled up by that flickering fire watching big fat snowflakes drift past the window and trying to thaw my numb toes, that I came up with the idea for Sleigh Bells in the Snow.
My heroine Kayla hates Christmas and plans to avoid it altogether, so when she’s asked to spend a week in a log cabin in snowy Vermont as part of her job she couldn’t be happier. Jackson O’Neil is trying to save the family business, Snow Crystal Resort, and thinks public relations expert Kayla is the woman to help him.
She arrives at Snow Crystal expecting to escape Christmas, only to find herself sucked deep into the very thing she is trying to avoid. Family. And as if that isn’t bad enough, Kayla discovers Jackson doesn’t fit any of the traditional business stereotypes. Soon she’s chopping logs with Grandpa, baking with Grandma and trying not to fall in love.
Jackson has so many hero qualities. He is one of life’s tough guys—calm in a crisis, with shoulders broad enough to take whatever pressures come his way. Everyone leans on him. I fell in love with him right away. My heroine Kayla took a little longer, but life has taught her to be guarded.
Christmas is a time for giving, but the one thing Kayla cannot give is her heart. Or can she?
I hope you enjoy Kayla’s story and however you spend your time over the holidays, I wish you health and happiness.
Sarah
xx
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS (#uc79e69d0-c61e-5f6f-ac67-ea03e1e3f6a6)
First, a huge thank-you to my readers who continue to buy my books thereby giving me the opportunity to write more.
Special thanks to my brilliant and talented editor, Flo Nicoll, for her enthusiasm and insight. Working together on this book has been more fun than anyone has a right to expect from a job.
I’m grateful to my agent, Susan Ginsburg of Writers House, for her wise advice, and to the fantastic team at HQN and Harlequin UK for their support and hard work.
Without Kimberly Young and Lucy Gilmour I doubt my career would have reached this point. I owe them both a great deal.
Particular thanks to Dianne Moggy for her encouragement and for allowing me to use real-life Maple as fictional Maple in this story. All errors my own.
Love and thanks to Laura Reeth for her friendship, support and astute observations on life.
All writers need writer friends. I am fortunate to have more than I can mention here—you know who you are!—but I am particularly indebted to Carol Marinelli and Nicola Cornick.
Writers also need nonwriter friends. Love and thanks to Sue, who has been there through thick and thin and occasionally forces me to talk about real people as well as fictional ones.
I am fortunate to have a wonderful family. Love to my parents and also to my fantastic children for the hugs and laughs and for never complaining when I’m on a deadline and make them eat pizza.
Finally, love and thanks to my husband for proving that romance can happen outside the pages of a book. I am grateful to him for teaching me to ski and for patiently picking me up when I landed on my face, thus providing me with plenty of material for this story!
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Cover (#ub3e65563-3fdf-5b7d-b41c-645621b95848)
Praise for Sarah Morgan
About the Author (#u89d951db-70b9-567b-b450-5ce758c3ebf0)
Title Page (#ufc028c05-ad04-599c-b5e2-6138d1fb1d0f)
Dedication (#ufc5c1318-2259-5b35-a782-f967bac48cc4)
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Extract
Endpage (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright
CHAPTER ONE (#uc79e69d0-c61e-5f6f-ac67-ea03e1e3f6a6)
KAYLA GREEN CRANKED up the volume on her favorite playlist and blocked out the sound of festive music and laughter wafting under her closed office door.
Was she the only person who hated this time of year?
Surely there had to be someone out there who felt the way she did?
Someone who didn’t expect Christmas to be merry or bright?
Someone who knew mistletoe was poisonous?
She watched gloomily as soft snowflakes drifted lazily past the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that made up two sides of her spacious corner office. She hadn’t been dreaming of a white Christmas but it seemed she was getting one anyway.
Far below, the streets of Manhattan were jammed with tourists keen to enjoy the festive sights of New York in the holiday season. A giant spruce twinkled in front of the Rockefeller Centre, and the Hudson River glinted in the distance, a ribbon of silvery-gray shimmering in the winter light.
Turning her back on the snow, the tree and the glittering skyscrapers of Midtown, Kayla focused on her computer screen.
A moment later the door opened and Tony, her opposite number in Entertainment and Sports, appeared carrying two glasses of champagne.
She unhooked her headphones. “Who the hell is picking the music out there?”
“You don’t like the music?” The top button of his shirt was undone and the glitter in his eyes suggested this wasn’t his first glass of champagne. “Is that why you’re hiding in your office?”
“I’m searching for inner peace but I’d settle for outer peace so if you could close the door on your way out, that would be perfect.”
“Come on, Kayla. We’re celebrating our best year ever. It’s a British tradition to get drunk, sing terrible karaoke and flirt with your colleagues.”
“Who told you that?”
“I watched Bridget Jones’s Diary.”
“Right.” The music made her head throb. It was always the same at this time of year. The tight panicky feeling in her stomach. The ache in her chest that didn’t ease until December 26th. “Tony, did you want something? Because I’d like to keep working.”
“It’s our office party. You cannot work late tonight.”
As far as she was concerned it was the perfect night to work late.
“Have you seen A Christmas Carol? Or read the book?”
A glass of champagne appeared on the desk in front of her. “I’m guessing you’re not Tiny Tim in this scenario, so that makes you either Scrooge or one of the ghosts.”
“I’m Scrooge, but without the tasteless nightwear.” Ignoring the champagne, Kayla glanced through the doorway. “Is Melinda out there?”
“Last seen charming the CEO of Adventure Travel who has been looking for you all evening so he can thank you personally for the incredible year their company has enjoyed. Bookings are up two hundred percent since you took over their account. Not only that, you got his picture on the cover of Time magazine.” He raised his glass and his mouth twisted into a smile. “Until you arrived in New York, I was the golden boy. Brett used to give me tips on how to be the one on top. I was all set to be the youngest vice president this firm has ever appointed.”
Alarm bells rang in her head. “Tony—”
“Now it’s likely that accolade will go to you.”
“You’re still the golden boy. We work in separate divisions. Could we talk about this tomorrow?” Kayla delved into her bag for a report, wishing she could push herself inside and snap it shut until January. “I’m really busy.”
“Too busy to nurse my ego a little bit?”
She eyed the champagne. “I’ve always believed people should be responsible for their own egos.”
He gave a low laugh. “Coming from anyone else I’d assume there was innuendo in there, but you don’t do innuendo, do you? You don’t have time for it. Just like you don’t have time for parties or dinner or drinks on the way home after work. You don’t have time for anything except work. For Kayla Green, associate vice president of Tourism and Hospitality, it’s all about the next piece of business. Do you realize there’s a bet going in the office as to whether you sleep with your phone?”
“Of course I sleep with my phone. Don’t you?”
“No. Sometimes I sleep with a human, Kayla. A hot, naked woman. Sometimes I forget about work and indulge in a night of really incredible sex.” His eyes were on hers, his message unmistakable and Kayla wished she’d locked her office door.
“Tony—”
“I’m probably about to make a giant fool of myself, but—”
“Please don’t.” Deciding she might need both hands, Kayla gave up looking for the file. “Go back to the party.”
“You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever met.”
Oh, shit.
“Tony—”
“When you transferred here from London straight into the AVP role, I admit I was ready to hate you, but you charmed us all with your cute British ways and you charmed Brett with your killer business instinct.” He leaned forward. “And you charmed me.”
Kayla eyed the glass in his hand. “How many of those have you had?”
“The other day I was watching you in the boardroom presenting to your client. You never stand still.”
“I think better when I walk around.”
“Yeah, you walk around in that tight little pencil skirt that shows off your ass and those skyscraper heels that show off miles of leg, and all the time you were walking I was thinking, ‘Kayla Green has the sharpest mind in the business, but she also has a great pair of legs—’”
“Tony—”
“‘—and not only does she have a great pair of legs, she also amazing green eyes that can kill a man from a thousand paces.’”
She stared hard at him and then shook her head. “Nope. Not working. You’re still alive, so that’s something else you’re wrong about. Now go back to the party.”
“Let’s get out of here, Green. My place. Just you, me and my super big bed.”
“Tony—” She tried to inject just the right tone into her voice. Firm, professional and absolutely not interested. “I understand how much courage it took for you to be honest about your feelings, and I’m going to be equally candid.” Well, not quite, but as close to candid as she ever came. “Quite apart from the fact I would never get personal with a colleague because it would be unprofessional, I’m totally rubbish at relationships.”
“You couldn’t be rubbish at anything. I heard Brett telling a client this week that you’re a superstar.” An edge of bitterness crept into his voice and she sighed.
“Is that what this is about? Competition? Because honestly, when Brett was giving you tips on how to be on top, I don’t think he meant you to take it quite so literally.”
“Hot, dirty sex, Kayla, and just for tonight.” He raised his glass. “Tomorrow doesn’t exist.”
As far as she was concerned tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. “Good night, Tony.”
“I would make you forget your emails.”
“No man has ever made me forget my emails.” Contemplating that depressing fact did nothing to improve her mood. “You are drunk and you are going to regret this in the morning.”
He sat down on her desk, flattening a stack of invoices awaiting her signature. “I thought I worked hard and then I met you. Kayla Green, public relations genius who never puts a foot wrong.”
She tugged at the invoices. “My foot will be in your butt if you don’t get off my invoices.”
“Butt? I thought you British called it an arse.”
“Butt, arse—call it whatever you like, just get it off my desk. Now go home before you say something you shouldn’t to someone important.” About to stand up and eject him physically, she was relieved when her office door opened and Stacy, her PA, walked in.
Her gaze fixed on the empty glass in Tony’s hand. “Ah, Tony—Brett is looking for you. New business opportunity. He says you’re the man to handle it.”
“Really? In that case—” Tony scooped up Kayla’s untouched glass and strolled toward the door “—nothing stands in the way of business, does it? Certainly not pleasure.”
Stacy watched him go, eyebrows raised. “What’s got into him?”
“Two bottles of champagne got into him.” Kayla dropped her head into her hands and stared blankly at the screen. “Was Brett really looking for him?”
“No, but you looked as if you were about to punch him, and I didn’t want you to spend Christmas in custody. I’ve heard the food is terrible.”
“You are one in a million and you’re in line for a fat bonus.”
“You already gave me a fat bonus. I treated myself to this top.” Stacy twirled like a ballerina and black sequins gleamed under the lights. “What do you think?”
“Love it. Just don’t stand too near Tentacle Tony.”
“I think he’s cute.” Stacy blushed. “Sorry. Too much information.”
“You think he’s hot?” Kayla stared at the door where Tony had exited a few moments earlier and wondered what was wrong with her. “Seriously?”
“Everyone does. Everyone except you, obviously, but that’s because you work too hard to notice. Why don’t you come and join the party?”
“Everyone will be chatting about the holidays. I’m fine talking about work but I’m useless with kids, pets and grandmas.”
“Talking of work, we have a potential new business lead. The guy is coming in tomorrow to brief us. Brett wants you in on that meeting.”
Relieved the topic had shifted, Kayla perked up. “What guy?”
“Jackson O’Neil.”
“Jackson O’Neil.” She filed through her brain. “CEO of Snowdrift Leisure. They own a handful of luxury hotels specializing in winter sports. Mostly European based. Zermatt, Klosters, Chamonix. Impressive track record. Very successful. What about him?”
Stacy gaped at her. “How do you know all this stuff?”
“It’s what I do when other people have a social life.” Kayla typed Jackson O’Neil into the search engine. “Do they want us to work with them? I can talk to someone in the London office.”
“It isn’t the European business. And it isn’t Snowdrift Leisure. He took a backseat in the company eighteen months ago so he could move back to the U.S. and focus on the family business.”
“Really? How did I miss that?” Kayla looked at the photographs that came up on her screen. Jackson O’Neil was at least two decades younger than she’d imagined him to be. Instead of the usual corporate head and shoulders shot, there was a photograph of him skiing down what looked like a vertical slope. Her head spun as she looked at the gradient. “Is that Photoshop?”
Stacy peered over her shoulder and made an appreciative sound. “That man is seriously hot. I bet he drinks vodka martinis, shaken not stirred. It’s not Photoshop. All three O’Neil brothers are skiers. Tyler O’Neil was on the U.S. ski team until he injured himself. They’re always flinging themselves off some cliff or other.”
“So I’d probably better not mention I feel dizzy at the top of the Empire State Building.” Kayla clicked off The picture. “Snowdrift Leisure is a fast-growing, successful company. Why isn’t he focusing on that?”
“Family. The O’Neil family owns the Snow Crystal Resort and Spa in Vermont.”
Family. The most destructive force known to man. “Never heard of it.”
“I guess that’s why he’s contacted us for help.”
“If he’d wanted to run the family business, why didn’t he do that straight off instead of setting up his own company?” She clicked through the Snow Crystal website, looking at images. A large Alpine-style hotel and log cabins nestling in a forest. A couple, smiling adoringly in the back of a horse-drawn sleigh. Laughing families skating on a frozen pond. She quickly returned to the images of the cabins. “Maybe he’s a guy who prefers a challenge.”
“No doubt he’ll tell you why when you meet. He asked for you. He saw what you did for Adventure Travel.”
Kayla stared at the log cabins, and thought how peaceful they looked. “Are they putting the business out to pitch?”
“Brett thinks if you can impress Jackson O’Neil tomorrow, the business is ours.”
“Then we’d better make sure we impress him.”
“I’m sure you will.” Stacy hesitated. “Have you ever skied?”
“Not exactly. I mean, I’ve never actually worn a pair of skis as such, but I skidded on the snow outside Bloomingdales last week. I felt as if my gut was going to come up through my mouth. Skiing must give you a similar feeling.”
Stacy laughed. “My parents took me to Vermont when I was little. All I remember was ice. Even the trees were frozen.”
“That’s perfect because I love ice.”
“You do?”
“Absolutely. Ideally I prefer it crushed in a margarita or carved into a swan as a centerpiece on a buffet table, but I can go with it under my feet if I have to. I’ll be fine, Stacy. I’m helping them promote the company, not going on holiday there. When I worked on that African Safari account, did I have to hug a lion? No, I did not.” Kayla felt the familiar buzz that always came when facing a new business opportunity. Her fears of the dreaded Christmas period were soothed by the knowledge she now had a legitimate reason to bury herself in work. She’d get through it, as she always did, and no one would be any the wiser. “Be an angel and dig up as much information as you can on Snow Crystal and the O’Neil family, particularly Jackson. I want to know why he took a backseat in his highly successful business to return home and run a place I can’t even find on a map.”
“I’ll have it for you first thing tomorrow.” Brisk and efficient, Stacy made a note in her book. “Maybe you should take a break, Kayla. You’re forgetting it’s Christmas!”
“I’m not forgetting.”
She’d been trying to forget for a decade and a half. There was no forgetting.
Whenever she left her apartment or her office she walked with her head down, avoiding glimpses of glittering window displays and twinkly lights, but nothing helped.
Stacy tidied the stack of invoices. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind and join our team trip to see Santa?”
It felt as if someone were sawing through her stomach.
Dragging open her drawer, Kayla pulled out indigestion tablets and swallowed two. She wondered whether taking the lot would put her out until after Christmas. “Can’t, sorry, but I appreciate the invitation.”
“There will be Christmas trees, elves—”
“Oh, God, poor you.”
“Why poor me? I love Christmas.” Stacy shot her a puzzled look. “Don’t you?”
“I adore Christmas. I’m totally gutted I can’t make it. I meant poor me, not poor you.” The effort of smiling was making her jaw ache. “Think of me while you’re mingling with elves.”
“Maybe you should come anyway and talk to Santa. You can give him your Christmas list. Dear Santa, please give me the Snow Crystal account together with a massive budget, and, while you’re at it, I’ll have Jackson O’Neil naked. Hold the gift wrap.”
The only thing she wanted for Christmas was for it to be over as fast as possible.
Memories hit her with a thump, and Kayla stood up abruptly and paced to the window. All around her were reminders of Christmas, so she paced back to her desk and sat down again, vowing to book a cruise to Antarctica next year. Whale watching. Whales didn’t celebrate Christmas, did they?
The phone on her desk rang and she breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness.
Stacy snapped into professional mode and reached across the desk, but Kayla stopped her.
“I’ll get it. I’m expecting a call from the CEO of Extreme Explore. I’d rather the man wasn’t deafened by the sounds of sleigh bells, or jingle bells, or whatever bells are ringing out there, so it would be great if you went back to the party and closed the door behind you. Thanks, Stacy. If anyone asks, you haven’t seen me.” Waiting until she closed the door, Kayla whimpered and leaned forward, banging her head on the desk. “Christmas. Crappy, miserable, horrible Christmas. Please be over quickly this year otherwise I’m going to need every last shard of ice in Vermont to chill all the alcohol I intend to drink.” Pulling in a deep breath she sat up, raked her hair away from her face and picked up the phone. “Oliver?” Afraid he might hear her desperation, she pinned the smile back on her face, thankful it wasn’t a video conference. “It’s Kayla. Great to speak to you. How’s it going? I read through your business plans for next year. Exciting!”
This, she thought, this she could do.
No Christmas. No Santa. No memories.
Just her job.
If she kept her head down and focused on winning the O’Neil account, it would eventually all be over.
“WHAT THE HELL kind of nonsense is this?” Eighty years old, but with all the energy of a man half his age, Walter O’Neil thumped his fist on the kitchen table while his grandson Jackson lounged in his chair, biting his tongue and reining in his temper.
Every meeting was the same.
Every battle they fought came back to the same theme.
This was why he hadn’t wanted to work with his family. It wasn’t a job—it was personal. There was no space to operate. Any hint of a new idea was strangled at birth. He’d built his own successful company from the ground up and now he felt like a teenager helping out in the store on weekends.
“It’s called public relations, Gramps.”
“It’s called a waste of money. I wouldn’t have done it that way and neither would your father.”
The blow landed deep in his gut. Jackson exchanged a swift glance with his brother, but before either of them could respond there was a crash. His grandmother stared in dismay at the shattered remains of the plate.
The puppy whimpered and retreated under the table for safety.
“Grams—” Jackson was on his feet, his own pain forgotten, but his mother was there before him.
“Don’t worry, Alice, I always hated that plate anyway. Ugly thing. I’ll clear it up.”
“I’m not normally clumsy.”
“You’ve been baking all morning. You must be exhausted.” She sent a reproachful look at her father-in-law, who glared right back, unrepentant.
“What? Are you saying I can’t talk about Michael? Are we all going to pretend this isn’t happening? Do we brush his memory under the rug like crumbs?”
Jackson didn’t know which was worse—the sight of his usually feisty grandmother so subdued or the shadow in his mother’s eyes.
“I need help decorating the gingerbread Santas.” She cajoled and soothed, keeping everyone happy while ignoring her glowering father-in-law, and within seconds she had Alice seated at the table in front of a rack of freshly made gingerbread men, various bowls of colored icing laid out in front of her.
Tyler sat at the far end of the table, restless and impatient. “I thought this was going to be a family meeting, not a family argument.”
“Argument?” Alice turned troubled eyes to Elizabeth. “Is it an argument?”
“Of course it isn’t. People are just having their say.”
“Families are supposed to stick together.”
“We’re together, Alice. That’s why it’s noisy.”
“Happy to reduce the numbers.” Tyler half rose to his feet and Jackson shot him a look.
“Sit down. We’re not done here.”
“I’m done.” Always one to reject authority, Tyler’s gaze burned into his and then he looked at the set of his brother’s jaw and sat. “Remind me why I came home?”
“Because you have a daughter,” Walter barked. “And responsibilities. And there comes a point in a man’s life when he has to do more than tear up the slopes and chase after women.”
“You were the one who taught me to tear up the slopes. You gave me the genes and the skis and you showed me what to do with them.”
Jackson wondered how the hell he was supposed to run this place when his “staff” had more baggage than an airport departure lounge.
“We need to stick to business.” His tone got him the attention he needed. “Tyler, you’re going to help Brenna run the winter activities program.” And that was another problem brewing, he thought. He had a feeling Brenna wasn’t too pleased to see Tyler back at Snow Crystal, and he was pretty sure he knew the reason.
He waited as his mother added a bowl of white icing to the table and handed his grandmother a knife.
With Alice occupied, Elizabeth O’Neil turned her attention to the broken china on the floor.
Jackson felt as if he were walking over the fragments in bare feet.
“I intend to make this business work but to do that I need to make changes.”
His grandfather glowered at him. “It worked just fine when I ran it and when your father ran it.”
No, it didn’t. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell the truth about the state of the business but then he saw his mother’s fingers whiten on the broom. Did she know what a mess his father had left behind?
He should have told them straight-out, he thought, not tried to protect them. If he’d done that maybe they wouldn’t be fighting him now.
Jackson looked at his grandfather. “I came home to run the business.”
“No one asked you to.”
Elizabeth O’Neil straightened her shoulders. “I asked him to.”
“We don’t need him here.” Walter thumped his fist on the table. “He should have stayed where he was, running his fancy company and playing the big boss. I could have run this place.”
“You’re eighty years old, Walter. You should be slowing down, not taking on more. For once, swallow your pride and take the help that’s offered.” Elizabeth scooped up china fragments. “You should be grateful Jackson came home.”
“I’m not grateful! A business is supposed to make money. All he does is spend it.”
Jackson sat still, holding back the anger that simmered. “It’s called investment.”
“It’s called wasting money.”
“It’s my damn money.”
“No swearing in my kitchen, Jackson O’Neil.”
“Why the fuck not?” Tyler was as restless as a caged beast. Jackson knew his brother hated being trapped indoors only marginally less than he hated authority. All he’d ever wanted to do was ski as fast as was humanly possible, and since the injury that had curtailed his racing career, his mood had been volatile.
“Don’t wind your grandfather up, Tyler.” His mother tipped broken china into a bag. “I’ll make tea.”
About to point out that what they needed wasn’t tea but teamwork, Jackson remembered his mother always made tea and baked when she was stressed. And she’d been stressed for the past eighteen months. “Tea would be great, Mom.”
“If you expect me to sit here I’m going to need something a hell of a lot stronger than tea.” Tyler helped himself to another beer from the fridge and tossed one to his brother.
Jackson caught it one-handed. He knew that for all his outward impression of indifference, Tyler hated this situation as much as he did. Hated the fact they might lose this place. Hated the way his grandfather refused to let go of things.
He wondered if he’d been wrong to come home.
And then he saw his grandmother’s lined, anxious face and his mother focusing extra hard on icing gingerbread Santas and knew there was no way he could have stayed away.
His grandfather might not want him here, but there was no doubt he was needed.
He watched as his mother bustled around taking comfort in the ritual of caring for people. She placed a plate of freshly baked cinnamon stars in the center of the scrubbed pine table and checked the bread she had baking in the oven.
The smell evoked memories of childhood. The large friendly kitchen had been part of his life forever. Now it was the closest he had to a boardroom and his infuriating, exasperating, interfering, lovable family were his management team. Two octogenarians, a grieving widow, his daredevil brother and an overexcited puppy with training issues.
Beam me up.
His mother placed a steaming mug of tea next to his beer and he felt a twinge of guilt for wishing he were back in his old office with his experienced team around him and only work to take up his attention. That time seemed so long ago. His life had changed. Right now, he wasn’t sure it was for the better.
“The changes we’ve made will make a difference, but we need to tell people about those changes. I’m employing a public relations firm and I’ll pay for it out of my own pocket.” Given the state of the Snow Crystal finances, he didn’t have much choice about that. “If I’m wasting money then it will be my money.”
His grandfather gave a snort of disapproval. “If you’re willing to throw away your own money you’re even more foolish than I thought.”
“I’m employing an expert.”
“You mean an outsider.” Walter sniffed. “And maybe you should be talking to your other brother before you make decisions about the family business.”
“Sean isn’t here.”
“Because he has the good sense to leave the running of it to others. I’m just saying he should know what’s going on, that’s all.”
“He’ll be home for Christmas. I’ll talk to him then.” Jackson leaned forward. “I need someone who can get Snow Crystal the attention it deserves. We need to increase occupancy. We need heads on beds.”
“Is it about proving yourself? Because you’ve already done that with your big-shot ways, your fancy company and your fancy cars.”
Change, Jackson thought. They hated change.
All his grandfather understood was blunt, so he gave him blunt.
“If we leave things the way they are, we’ll lose the business.”
His grandmother spilled a puddle of icing on the table, his mother turned a shade paler and his grandfather’s eyes burned a fierce blue in his tanned, craggy face.
“This place has been in our family for four generations.”
“And I’m trying to keep it in the family for the next four.”
“By spending a fortune on a fancy New York company that can’t even find Vermont on a map? What do they know about our business?”
“Plenty. They have a division that specializes in Travel and Hospitality, and the woman heading it up knows what she’s doing. Have you heard of Adventure Travel?” Jackson leaned forward in his chair. “They were going under until Kayla Green took on the account. She had their business mentioned in every key media target.”
“Jargon,” Walter muttered. “So what is she? A magician?”
“She is a PR specialist. Right at the top of her game. She has media contacts that the rest of us can only dream about.”
“She’s not the only one with media contacts.” Walter O’Neil sniffed to show exactly what he thought of Kayla Green’s abilities. “I’ve been bowling with Max Rogers, editor of the Snow Crystal Post, for the past twenty years. If I want a piece in the paper, I ask.”
The Snow Crystal Post.
Jackson didn’t know whether to laugh or punch a hole through the table.
Wrenching the running of Snow Crystal away from his grandfather was like trying to pull fresh meat from the jaws of a starving lion.
“Local press is great, but what we really need is attention from the national media and international media—” He opened his mouth to add social media but decided not to get started on that one. “PR is more than talking to the press and we need to think bigger than the Snow Crystal Post.”
“Bigger isn’t always better.”
“No, but small can mean bust. We need to expand.”
“You make us sound like a factory!”
“Not a factory, a business. A business, Gramps.” Jackson rubbed his fingers over his forehead to ease the throb of his tension headache. He was used to walking in and getting the job done. Not anymore. Not with his own family because there were feelings to consider.
He decided that the only thing they’d respond to was hard facts. “It’s important you know how things stand at the moment—”
His mother pushed a plate toward him. “Have a gingerbread Santa.”
On the verge of revealing just how black the future looked, Jackson found himself staring at a plate of smiling Santas. They wouldn’t look so damned cheerful if they knew how precarious their future was.
“Mom—”
“You’ll sort it out, Jackson. You’ll do what’s right. By the way, Walter—” her tone was casual “—did you see the doctor about that pain in your chest? Because I can run you over there today.”
Walter scowled. “I pulled a muscle chopping logs. It was nothing.”
“He won’t listen.” Alice stuck a knife into the bowl of icing. “I keep telling him we should slow down during sex, but he ignores me.”
“Christ, Grams!” Tyler shifted uncomfortably, and his grandmother looked up from the Santa she was holding, some of the old spark flaring in her eyes.
“Mind your language. And what’s wrong with you? You think sex is just for the young? You have sex, Tyler O’Neil. Plenty of it if the rumors are to be believed.”
“Yeah, but I don’t talk about it with my grandmother—” Tyler levered himself to his feet. “I’m out of here. There’s only so much family togetherness I can stand in one day. I’m going to tear up the slopes and chase women.”
Knowing Tyler wasn’t his problem, Jackson let him go without argument.
He met his mother’s gaze and read the message there.
She was warning him to ease up on his grandfather.
The door slammed behind Tyler, and his grandmother flinched. “He was wild as a boy and he’s wild as a man.”
“He’s not wild.” Elizabeth poured milk into a pretty spotted jug. “He just hasn’t found his place in the world since his injury. He’ll adjust, especially now that he has Jess home.”
It occurred to Jackson that his mother could have been talking about herself. She hadn’t found her place in the world since losing his father. That wound was as raw as ever and she was stumbling around like a bird with a broken wing.
Smelling food, the puppy emerged from under the table. She looked up at Jackson hopefully, her entire body wagging along with her tail.
“Maple, sweetheart.” Elizabeth scooped her up. “She hates all this shouting.”
Walter grunted. “Give her something to eat. I like to see her eat. She was skin and bones when she arrived here.”
Jackson closed his eyes. When he opened them again he was still in the kitchen. Still in the middle of this “meeting” where half the occupants of the room were made of gingerbread or had four legs.
“Mom—”
“When you get a minute could you bring down the boxes of decorations for the tree? Alice and I need to sort through them.”
Jackson refrained from pointing out he hadn’t had a minute since he’d arrived back at Snow Crystal. He’d been buried neck-deep in loans, business plans, staff who didn’t do their jobs and finances that didn’t add up. There were days when he ate standing up and nights when he lay on top of the bed, too tired to undress.
“We’re off the subject. You need to learn to keep a meeting on track, Jackson.” His grandfather reached for a biscuit. “So what does this woman from New York know about our business? I’ll bet she’s never even seen a sugar maple tree, let alone a whole damn forest of them.”
“I’m not inviting her here to tap the trees, Gramps.”
His grandfather gave a grunt. “She’s probably never tasted good quality maple syrup. That’s how I met your grandmother. She came to buy a bottle of our syrup.” He snapped the head off a gingerbread Santa and winked at Alice. “She thought I was so sweet, she never left.”
Watching his grandparents exchange loving glances, Jackson decided that not having tasted maple syrup was going to be the least of Kayla Green’s problems. “If it will make you feel better I’ll give her a bottle, but that’s not our main business. It’s a hobby.”
“Hobby? The O’Neils are famous around here for the quality of our maple syrup—it’s something we’ve been doing in this family for over a hundred years. Tourists come to see what we do here and you call it a hobby?”
“How many tourists?” Jackson ignored the food in front of him. “How many tourists do you think came last year? Because I can tell you it’s not enough to keep this place going.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have spent so much developing those fancy cabins and refurbishing the lodge. Did we need a spa? Did we need a pool? Did you need to employ an expensive French chef in the restaurant? Extravagance, all of it.” His grandfather was red in the face and Jackson rose to his feet, worry gnawing at his insides. He knew how much they were hurting. He also knew if they didn’t face up to what was happening soon, Snow Crystal Resort would be going under.
He wasn’t going to let that happen.
“I’m going to do what needs to be done. You’re going to have to trust me.”
“So now you’re an autocrat.” But his grandfather’s voice shook a little, and Jackson saw something in the old man’s eyes that nailed his feet to the floor.
This was the man who had taught him to whittle an arrow from a stick, to dam a stream and catch a fish with his bare hands. This man had picked him out of deep snow when he’d wiped out on his skis and taught him how to check the thickness of the ice on the pond so he didn’t fall through.
And this was the man who had lost his son.
Jackson sat back down in the chair. “I’m not an autocrat but I have to make changes. We’re operating in a stagnant economy. We have to stand out from the crowd. We have to offer something special.”
“Snow Crystal Resort is special.”
“It’s Snow Crystal Resort and Spa now, and for once we agree on something. It’s special.”
His grandfather’s eyes were suspiciously shiny. “So why change things?”
“Because people don’t know about it, Gramps. But they’re going to.” The puppy nuzzled his ankle, and Jackson leaned down and stroked the dog’s soft, springy fur. “I’m flying to New York tomorrow to meet with Kayla Green.”
“I still don’t get what a girl from Manhattan is going to know about running a resort like ours.”
“She’s not from Manhattan. She’s British.”
His mother brightened. “She’ll fall in love with the place. I did. From Old England to New England.”
Walter frowned. “You’ve lived here so long I don’t think of you as British. Hell, I bet this Kayla woman has never even seen a moose!”
“Does she need to see a moose to get the job done?” But an idea was forming in his head. Not a compromise exactly, but a solution that might work. “If I can persuade Kayla Green to come and experience firsthand exactly what we offer here at Snow Crystal, will you listen to her?”
“That depends. She’s not going to see much in a couple of hours, is she?”
Jackson stood up. “She can stay for a week. God knows, we’ve got enough empty cabins.”
“No way is Miss New York or Miss London or wherever the hell she’s from, going to want to stay in the wilds with us for a week in the middle of a Vermont winter.”
Deep down, Jackson agreed with him but he wasn’t about to admit defeat.
“I’ll get her here and you’ll listen.”
“I’ll listen if she says something worth listening to.”
“Deal.” He shrugged on his jacket while his mother looked on anxiously.
“Stay and eat. You’ve been working so hard I’ll bet you haven’t gone near the shops.”
“He shouldn’t have moved out.” His grandfather clicked his fingers to attract the attention of the puppy. “He shouldn’t have spent all that money converting that crumbling old barn into a fancy place of his own when we have all these empty rooms.”
“I’ve trebled the value of that crumbling old barn.” And saved his sanity. Jackson slipped his tablet computer into his bag and thought it might as well have been made of gingerbread for all the use it had been to him. “No food, thanks. I need to put together some figures for the people at Innovation. I’ll do my own thing tonight.”
“You always do,” his grandfather muttered, and Jackson shook his head in exasperation and walked out of the warm, cozy kitchen into the freezing winter air.
His boots crunched through the thick snow and he stopped, breathing in the peace and quiet along with the smell of wood smoke.
Home.
Sometimes suffocating, sometimes comforting. He’d avoided it, he realized. Stayed away longer than he should because at times there had been more suffocation than comfort.
He’d left the place behind at eighteen, fueled by a determination to prove himself. Why stay trapped in Snow Crystal when the whole world was out there beckoning him toward possibilities and opportunities? He’d been caught up in the excitement, the thrill of making something new, something that was his. He’d been riding the wave until that phone call. It had come in the night, like all the worst phone calls and had changed his life forever.
Where would he be now if his father hadn’t died? Expanding his business in Europe? On a hot date with a woman?
Raising hell like his brother?
There was a whimper and he looked down to see the puppy by his ankles, snow clinging to her fur and mischief in her eyes.
“You’re not supposed to be out here.” Jackson stooped and lifted her, feeling the tremble of her body through her springy fur. She was small and delicate, a miniature toy poodle with the heart of a lion. He remembered the day he and Tyler had found her abandoned and half-dead in the forest, a scrap of fur, barely alive. They’d brought her home and coaxed her back to life. “I bet there are days when you wish you hadn’t joined our family.”
His mother appeared in the doorway, relief on her face as she saw the puppy. “She followed you.” She took the puppy from him and gathered her close, stroking and kissing, pouring all her love onto the delighted puppy while Jackson watched, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down on him.
“Mom—”
“He needs you, Jackson. Sooner or later he’ll realize that. Your father made mistakes, but your grandfather can’t cope with thinking about that right now. He doesn’t need Michael’s memory tarnished.”
And neither did she. The shadows in her eyes told him that.
Knowing how much she’d loved his father, Jackson felt the tension increase across his shoulders. “I’m trying to get the job done without hurting him.”
She hesitated. “You’re probably wondering why you came back.”
“I’m not wondering that.”
Somehow, he had to find a way of making something that was his out of something that was theirs and making his grandfather feel as if the whole thing was his idea.
He had to save what they’d built.
Kayla Green might have worked with some of the toughest and most successful companies in her career, but nothing, nothing, was going to come close to the challenge of dealing with the O’Neil family.
He hoped she liked gingerbread Santas.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_179bbe3b-4024-5c0c-9d05-f02fa51341fd)
“ANGIE CALLED FROM the Washington Post. I told her you’d call her back. And I finished that media list.” Stacy leaned across the desk and Kayla was nearly asphyxiated.
“Er—nice perfume.” Her hand wrapped around the tall cappuccino she’d picked up on her way into the office. She unwrapped her cashmere scarf and dropped it over her chair, sending snowflakes floating across her desk. “It’s freezing out there. If I’d known New York was this cold in winter I would have requested the L.A. office.” Snatching a sip of coffee, she toed off the boots she’d worn to walk the short distance from her apartment and dragged her shoes from the drawer in her desk.
Through the glass wall that cut her off from the rest of the fortieth floor, she could see two of the junior account executives discreetly replenishing makeup. “What’s going on? Brett will hit the roof if he walks past and sees lip gloss and girl bonding.”
“Brett’s with Jackson O’Neil. They’re waiting for you in the boardroom.”
“Jackson O’Neil is the reason for the perfume and the sudden run on cosmetics?”
“The man is smoking-hot, Kayla.”
Only half listening, Kayla pulled her phone out of her pocket, checking new emails while she pushed her feet into her shoes. “Did you get any more information on him?”
“Yes. He is insanely sexy and—” Stacy blushed “—single.”
“I meant on the company.”
“I sent everything I found to your in-box this morning, but Kayla he’s—”
“Somehow I’ve managed to amass fifty emails since I left my apartment. How is that possible? I cleared my in-box at 5:00 a.m.” Kayla put down her coffee, slid her phone into her bag and scooped up the stack of notes she’d scribbled at three in the morning. “When I saw the snow, I assumed O’Neil would cancel.”
“He took an earlier flight because the forecast was bad and he wanted this done. I collected him from the foyer. I managed to behave with dignity and not leap on him.”
“That would have given a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘full service agency.’” Grinning, Kayla smoothed her hair and took a deep breath. “Go and stick your head under the water cooler.”
“Your in-box is the equivalent of a cold shower. By the way, this came for you. It’s marked Personal so I didn’t open it. I guess it’s from someone who doesn’t have your home address.” Stacy handed her an envelope, and Kayla recognized her stepmother’s handwriting.
Cold trickled down her spine. It was like landing naked in a snowdrift.
“Thanks.” Stuffing it quickly into her bag, she strode out of her office and took the stairs down to the foyer, wishing she’d left the envelope on her desk instead of putting it in her bag. Now it was there, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. It made the bag feel heavy even though it weighed no more than a few flakes of snow.
She stopped in the stairwell, pressed her palm to her ribs and took a few deep breaths.
The only things that should be on her mind right now were Jackson O’Neil and the Snow Crystal Resort and Spa. She shouldn’t be thinking about her stepmother, not least because thinking of her stepmother always made her think of her father and then, inevitably, her mother.
She allowed herself a moment to stare through the window at the high-rises of Midtown, reminded herself how hard she’d worked to be standing here now, and then she continued down the stairs and pushed open the doors into the foyer.
The New York offices of Innovation were sleek and stylish, enveloped in floor-to-ceiling glass that offered breathtaking views over the skyscrapers of Manhattan. Usually Kayla found it the perfect working environment, but today chic minimalism had been displaced by festive touches. A huge Christmas tree dominated the foyer and someone had twisted a rope of tiny stars across the top of the boardroom door.
Everyone, from the receptionist right up to Brett himself, was in that smiling, energy-fueled phase that came between Thanksgiving and Christmas.
Maybe she was Scrooge, Kayla thought gloomily, her heels tapping on the polished oak floor as she walked past the receptionist and gave her a discreet wave. Maybe next year she’d book herself a log cabin with a view of a forest and a lake.
Maybe next year she’d arrange for someone to kidnap Santa.
She pushed open the door and Brett rose to his feet.
“Here she is! The star of the show. Kayla, meet Jackson O’Neil. Jackson, this is Kayla Green.”
He was standing with his back to her, his eyes on the city spread out in front of him.
In those few seconds, Kayla decided Stacy had exaggerated his appeal. True, that jet-black hair looked promising, and he appeared to be taller and broader than the average businessman she encountered during her working day, but as far as she could see there was nothing else about him that warranted the volume of cosmetics and heavy breathing that was going on up on the fortieth floor.
And then he turned.
With hair that black she’d expected his eyes to be dark, but they were blue. A fierce, intense blue, and Kayla stopped breathing altogether because nothing about this man was average.
There was a hard strength to his features, a toughness that fitted everything she’d read about him in the cold chill of her early-morning work session. From the bold sweep of his eyebrows to the bump in his nose, he was wholly and unequivocally male.
That heavy-lidded gaze assessed her in a single sweep, and she felt as if someone had kicked her legs out from under her.
She thought about Stacy’s suggestion that she ask Santa for Jackson O’Neil naked.
Dear Santa, it’s been a long time since you’ve heard from me, but—
“Miss Green.” His voice was deep and strong, and she was recovering from the shock of realizing that for once Stacy’s taste in men made perfect sense, when he strode across the room and shook her hand.
The sudden jolt of chemistry unsettled her.
“Good to meet you, Mr. O’Neil.”
For a fleeting moment it crossed her mind that this man might even have what it took to make her forget her emails. Then she remembered that the consequence of forgetting her emails was doing a bad job and there was no way she was ever going to let that happen.
“I hope your trip was good?” Kayla chose a seat as far away from those blue eyes as she could reasonably position herself. “I’m excited about this opportunity. Why don’t you start by telling us a bit more about how you think we can help, Mr. O’Neil.”
“Jackson.”
“Jackson.” It felt too personal. “I’ve followed the growth of Snowdrift Leisure.”
“My focus right now is Snow Crystal, the family business. It was originally run by my father.”
And his father had been killed in a car accident in New Zealand. She’d read about it in her research.
She was wondering how to tactfully ask the question that had been nagging her, when he raised an eyebrow.
“You have a question?” He was brutally direct. “It’s important to me that this project is successful, so if there’s something you need to know then ask.”
“I don’t want to be insensitive.”
His eyes gleamed. “Do I look delicate?”
He looked like a man who could chop down a tree with a swing of his hand. “It would help to understand why you chose to take over the business now and not earlier in your career.”
“Have you worked with family?”
“No.” A knot tightened in her stomach. “No, I haven’t.”
“Good decision. A family business is driven by a great deal more than a concern for the bottom line. To describe it as complicated would be to simplify the situation.” A wry smile tugged at his mouth, and Kayla found herself looking at the curve of his lips. She was sure Jackson O’Neil would be an exceptionally skilled kisser.
Irritated with herself, she opened her notepad.
Damn Stacy.
“I can imagine it isn’t easy to agree on a business strategy when the people involved have an emotional investment. Perhaps you could outline their different responsibilities within the company?”
“I’d describe it as flexible.” He leaned back in his chair. “The company structure, if you can call it that, is informal. If anyone has an idea, they speak up, although that doesn’t mean anyone is going to listen to them.”
But they’d listen to him, she was sure of that. The air of power and authority was unmistakable.
“It sounds charming,” Brett said smoothly, and Kayla kept her eyes on her notepad.
It sounded like chaos.
She looked up. “Tell me a bit about Snow Crystal itself.”
“The O’Neils have owned the land around Snow Crystal for four generations. My great-grandfather bought it for the sugar maple trees and set up a business producing maple syrup. They did it the old-fashioned way, tapping the trees and collecting the sap in a bucket. My great-grandmother helped. They started selling the syrup and her syrup cookies out of their kitchen. Tourists enjoyed visiting the sugarhouse, so they started offering overnight stays. The business grew from that.” He spoke with assurance, his voice deep and compelling as he outlined his family history.
It was a story of a family who had stuck together, a family who had labored to build something. A family with a past and a future.
What did she know about that?
Nothing.
She reminded herself he was buying her expertise, not her pedigree. “I took a look at the log cabins online.”
“Building those was the first thing I did when I came back eighteen months ago. They’re built from reclaimed wood and have log fires, a hot tub and a view of the forest. If someone wants to escape, this is the place.”
“Book me in.” Smiling, Kayla scribbled romantic getaway on her pad. “And the rest of the accommodation?”
He talked, describing the resort and the changes he’d made.
She thought about the articles she’d read in the middle of the night when sleep had eluded her. A talented skier, he’d started a company for people like himself. The words used to describe him had included focused, ruthless and visionary, and his success with Snowdrift Leisure suggested they were accurate.
Kayla thought about the image of him plunging into a snow gully on skis.
Distracted by the image in her head, she rose to her feet and paced to the window. “I have a few more questions—what do you see as your main offering, Mr. O’Neil?” Apart from killer blue eyes and a hot sexy body.
“We offer the usual range of winter sports, together with skating on the lake and horse-drawn sleigh rides.” He pushed a brochure across the table toward her. “Despite the addition of the spa and the cabins, we’re losing money. Our occupancy rate is under forty percent. the only part of the business currently in profit is our restaurant.”
“Your strategy with Snowdrift was to target the high end of the market. Your clients were cash rich and time poor so you did everything for them apart from take the vacation yourself.” She paused, thinking. “Who do you see as your main target audience? Families? Couples? Lone travelers? Adventure seekers?” Christmas escapees?
The corners of his mouth flickered. “At the moment it’s anyone we can drag through the doors, but it’s definitely a good place for families. We had fun growing up at Snow Crystal. Now we want to offer that same opportunity to our guests.”
“How does your family feel about you bringing in an outside agency to work with you?”
“Unconvinced.”
“You’re confident you can persuade them to accept our recommendations?”
“It’s your job to persuade them. Can you do it?”
“Of course she can. Kayla is the best there is,” Brett drawled. “She’ll have them eating out of her hand after five minutes. No worries.”
“That’s good, because eating is something of a family pastime.” Jackson’s gaze was fixed on Kayla. “I’ve come to you because you’re reputed to be the best. It’s essential that you can engage my family in whatever recommendations you make.”
“Understood.” Kayla sat back down and wrote herself a note on her pad. “It’s always important to obtain buy-in from the whole management team.”
“It’s going to be a challenge.”
Brett smiled. “Challenge is Kayla’s favourite breakfast dish, along with a side of difficult marinated in the impossible. Isn’t that right, Kayla?”
She wished Brett would shut up. “Who do you see as the most important person to influence?”
“My grandfather.” He didn’t hesitate. “He was born on Snow Crystal, lived and worked there all his life. He’d still like to be the one running the show. He resents the fact that he isn’t.”
And you resent the fact he won’t let you get on with it, Kayla thought.
“So he doesn’t leave you to run it yourself?”
“My grandfather lives and breathes the place. You know how it is with family.”
Something twisted deep in her gut.
No, she didn’t know how it was with family. She had no idea.
Kayla forced a smile. “So you’d like me to fly up there and meet them?”
“I want more than that. In order to persuade my grandfather to entertain the idea of taking on outside help, I’ve told them you’ll spend some time with us. Show that you understand our business.”
The fact that he’d done that without checking her schedule confirmed her suspicion that Jackson O’Neil was a man who hadn’t often heard the word no.
She kept her smile firmly in place. “That sounds like an excellent suggestion.”
“I want you to come for a week.”
A week!
Even Brett was shaken out of his customary cool. “Jackson—”
A week?
“You’ll spend quality time soaking up all that Snow Crystal has to offer.”
It was a test of commitment.
Those blue eyes were deceptive, Kayla thought, and dangerous. On the surface Jackson O’Neil seemed civil and approachable, but he was a man who knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to go for it. She had a feeling he used those eyes to lull his prey into a stupor before he pounced.
“A week could be difficult.”
“But you feast on difficult, isn’t that right?” He strangled her objections with the rope provided by Brett. “You’ll find a way. Naturally I’ll pay for your time.”
Kayla could virtually see dollar signs tracking across Brett’s eyeballs.
Her boss relaxed. “In that case, no worries.”
She resisted the temptation to leap across the desk and squeeze Brett’s throat until the words no worries never left his lips again.
She tried to work out how she was going to find a week in her packed schedule when even peeing required forward planning. A day would have put her in a cold sweat, but a week?
Trying to find a response that didn’t include the words, find me a time machine and I’ll find you a week, she opened her mouth to attempt to negotiate for an overnight stay in the new year, and then an idea formed in her brain.
“Did you say those luxury log cabins were secluded?”
“Yes.”
“So secluded,” she said casually, “that when a person is staying there, they could be the only human being on the planet?”
Blue eyes locked on hers. “The only thing a guest in the cabin will see as they’re lying in the hot tub is local wildlife. White-tailed deer, raccoons, moose—the occasional black bear, although they’re denning at this time of year so that’s unlikely.”
“Denning?”
“They’re not true hibernators, but they den during the winter months.”
Kayla decided that given the choice between an encounter with Santa or a black bear, she’d take the bear. And as for the rest of it—presumably the local wildlife wouldn’t be banging on her door expecting her to celebrate Christmas. “You mentioned a log fire—”
“The cabins are luxurious.”
She tilted her head to one side, mesmerized by the image in her head. Her mood lifted and this time her smile was genuine. “I agree it’s important that I experience everything Snow Crystal has to offer. A week sounds reasonable. If there is a cabin free over the holidays, I’ll come.”
“The holidays?” Dark brows rose. “You mean Christmas?”
“If I’m going to feast on difficult—” she flashed a smile at Brett “—I like it served with cranberry sauce. Your grandfather needs evidence of my dedication…hopefully this will suffice. What better time for me to gain a feel for the charms of Snow Crystal? It will put me in a unique position to develop an integrated marketing plan that will make you stand out from the crowd.” And it would also put her in a unique position to avoid the one time of year she hated more than any other.
Thank you, God.
A secluded log cabin and a business run by a family who would resent her presence at this time of year and undoubtedly leave her alone.
Perfect. Or it would be, if Jackson O’Neil would stop looking at her.
It was unsettling, and not just because he was spectacularly good-looking. Thick, dark lashes shielded eyes that saw far too much.
“Don’t you have plans for the holidays?”
Yes. Her plan was to avoid the whole thing. To find a way of spending the holidays in a Santa-free zone. She was following the example of the black bear, which was clearly a highly evolved species.
“My plans, Mr. O’Neil, are to make sure that by this time next year you have a waiting list for cancellations and that the resort of choice for winter fun and relaxation is Snow Crystal. Together, we are going to drive your brand to the top. Perhaps you’d be kind enough to reserve me the most remote cabin you have available. It will be easier to focus if I’m far away from other guests.” Oh, for goodness’ sake, he was still looking at her. “Of course if you’d rather wait until the new year—”
“Tell me a bit about yourself.”
“Me?” The question took her by surprise. “I read English at Oxford and then—”
“Not your academic background. Tell me something about you.”
“Oh. I’ve worked for Innovation since—”
“Something personal.”
It was Kayla’s turn to stare. “Personal?”
“What do you do when you’re not working?”
Kayla froze. No one had ever asked her that. Usually the questions were about forecasts, strategy, circulation figures—no one had ever asked her what she did when she wasn’t working. “I—”
“It’s a simple question, Miss Green.”
No, it wasn’t a bloody simple question. She decided to treat it like one of those interview questions where they asked your weaknesses and you gave them something they wouldn’t see as a weakness, such as I work too hard.
“I work too hard.” She gave an apologetic smile. “That doesn’t leave much free time. Right now my focus is my career. I’d rather be working than doing anything else.”
She’d especially rather be doing that than celebrating Christmas.
“Your family won’t object if you work over the holidays?”
Why was the guy asking about her family? He wanted to buy her skills, not adopt her. No client had ever asked her a question about family. All they cared about was hearing what she could do for their business. No one had ever been remotely interested in the person behind the machine.
Her smile frozen to her face in a bizarre rictus, Kayla hunted for a response that was neither rude nor a lie. “They won’t object. We’re all busy people.” Terrified that he might see through that neutral statement, she snapped her gaze from his and closed her notepad. “I will spend the week living and breathing Snow Crystal, write up my recommendations with input from the team back here and then we’ll start work in the new year. Brett?” She glanced at him for support, knowing Brett was too hungry for the business to care if she drove a snowplow through her own vacation.
“Sounds good. I’ll even provide the eggnog.”
For once relieved that her boss was living up to his reputation for forgetting the people who worked for him had a personal life, Kayla relaxed. “Make it tequila and I’ll put you back on my Christmas card list.”
“Done. And you can put a pair of snow boots on expenses.”
“You’re all heart, boss.”
“No worries.”
Across the table, Jackson O’Neil was still watching her. Beneath the well-cut suit he exuded a raw sexuality that made it almost impossible for a woman to look away.
“Would you describe yourself as an outdoor girl, Kayla?”
Not in a million years. “I don’t spend anywhere near as much time outdoors as I would like—” she adopted a regretful tone “—so I’m looking forward to rectifying that. And I love snow. Love it.” Maybe she should have said that once. Maybe twice was overdoing it.
“That’s good to hear.” That hypnotic blue gaze didn’t shift from hers. “So you ski?”
Remembering the picture of him plunging into a deep, snow-filled gully, Kayla decided it was safer not to lie about that. “Not exactly, but I’ve always wanted to, so this will be the perfect opportunity. I can’t wait, although I think my preference will probably be for—er—flat slopes.”
Dark brows rose. “Flat slopes?”
“Nothing too—” she tilted her hand to demonstrate a steep gradient “—terrifying.”
“Right.” He rubbed his hand over his jaw, and she had a feeling he was smiling. “Flat slopes. I admire your dedication.” He rose to his feet, lithe and athletic. One glance at his powerful thighs told her that this man didn’t expect his slopes to be flat.
She hoped he still admired her dedication when she was lying prostrate at his feet.
Belatedly, Kayla realized that spending a week at Snow Crystal meant spending a week in the close company of Jackson O’Neil, a man whose idea of fun was to jump off cliffs and land on a near-vertical slope.
Maybe she should have been more honest about her lack of experience.
Maybe she should book herself a hospital bed right now.
Gathering up her notes, she produced her most reassuring corporate smile and walked around to his side of the table. “Here at Innovation we’re always willing to go that extra mile for a client.” Preferably not downhill on skis, but if that was the only way then so be it. “Fast paced and focused. That’s what we do.” She stuck out her hand and then wished she hadn’t, as strong, male fingers closed over hers.
She tried not to wince.
The guy was strong enough to kill a moose with his bare hands. And even though she was wearing her favorite confidence-inducing killer heels, he was taller. His hair was dark and gleamed under the harsh lighting of the boardroom. It should have been unforgiving, but it simply served to spotlight his spectacular good looks.
“Let me know when your flight gets in and I’ll pick you up from the airport.” He released her hand. “We’ll do what we can to make the holidays special for you. It will give you a chance to try a variety of winter sports seeing as you—er—love snow so much.” The glitter in his eyes told her he’d guessed that her only contact with snow up until now had been to stare at it through the office window and brush it off her coat.
She told herself it didn’t matter.
“Secluded cabin, log fire, views of a frozen lake—” No Santa, no store window displays or canned Christmas music and most of all, no memories. “It doesn’t get any more perfect than that. Have a safe trip home.”
THE WOMAN HAD obviously never been near real snow in her life.
Hiding a smile, Jackson snapped his bag shut and watched as she walked briskly away from him, those incredible legs accentuated by heels so high she almost needed to breathe additional oxygen. Her hair was smooth and silky and brushed her shoulders in a perfectly tamed curtain of pale gold. He was willing to bet Kayla Green had never had a bad hair day in her life. Everything about her was ruthlessly polished and controlled. He wondered idly what would happen to that hair after she’d spent a day in the mountains.
He wondered who she was under the gloss.
“I didn’t expect her to be able to come over the holidays.” He hadn’t expected the chemistry, either, but he let that pass. He had enough complications in his life without adding more. “There can’t be many people her age who would choose to spend Christmas in an isolated cabin, however luxurious.”
“That’s Kayla. If she’s on a project then she’s on it a hundred and fifty percent. She’s brilliant and she has the best media contacts in the business. It’s the reason I poached her from the London office. The girl is a tiger.”
He was banking on it. He needed someone besides him who would take the business seriously. But still—
“She didn’t have plans to return home for Christmas?”
Clearly that possibility hadn’t occurred to Brett, who shrugged. “If she did, she’ll cancel. Snow Crystal is our top priority, and she’s the woman to make it happen.”
They walked together through to the foyer and Jackson paused, ignoring the long, speculative look the pretty receptionist sent in his direction.
“Does she never relax?”
“I’m not paying her to relax.” Brett produced a smile in response to Jackson’s raised eyebrow. “Sure, she relaxes. When she’s asleep. That’s the only time any of us relaxes. Drives my wife crazy. But Kayla’s adaptable, and she’ll do anything for her clients. If you need her to ski, she’ll ski. Wrestle a bear—she’ll wrestle a bear. No worries.”
Jackson didn’t reply. He was willing to bet if Kayla Green saw a bear they’d hear the screams back in New York.
For the past eighteen months, he’d thought of nothing but Snow Crystal, but suddenly all he could think of was joining Kayla in the secluded log cabin away from the outside world. His mind, starved of other outlets for creativity, used its creative talents to imagine her naked in the hot tub, cheeks pink, that smooth blond hair curling in the steam.
Damn.
Thanks to the influence of his family, he was taking unprofessional to a whole new level.
“YOU’RE WORKING OVER the holidays?” Stacy stared at her in dismay. “Kayla, that totally sucks.”
It was a dream come true. “It’s a bummer, but I’ll live with it,” Kayla said happily.
“But what about Christmas?”
“Christmas is canceled.” She resisted the temptation to dance across her office.
“You’re being so brave about it.”
“I’m gutted, but there’s no point in moaning.”
“That is so unfair of Brett.” Stacy was outraged. “You should be partying. Enjoying yourself. I don’t mean to be personal, but when did you last go on a date?”
“Date?” Why did everyone keep asking so many difficult questions? “Er—there was that guy from the twentieth floor—I saw him a couple of times.”
“If you’re talking about the accountant, you saw him once.”
“I’m not good at long relationships.” Kayla piled everything she had on Snow Crystal into her bag. “Did you call everyone for a meeting?”
“Yes. And Kayla, one date is not a relationship.”
“My point exactly.”
“Are you sure you won’t come with us tomorrow? We’re meeting at 7:00 a.m. downstairs at the Rockefeller Centre for the first skate of the day. Full VIP package. Hot chocolate and skate concierge. We’d love for you to join us.”
“What the hell is skate concierge?” Kayla reached for the bottle of water she kept on her desk.
“Some guy or girl pulls your skates on I guess.” Stacy shrugged. “After that we’re going to Santaland at Macy’s. It’s the whole Christmas experience.”
Kill me now.
Kayla’s jaw ached from smiling. She wondered whether she dared ring Jackson O’Neil and ask if she could have the cabin early. The way she felt, she was willing to camp in the forest. “Sorry to seem antisocial, but I just can’t afford the time.” She leaned back in her chair, stomach aching, head throbbing from too much time thinking about Christmas.
“Skating would be good practice for Vermont.”
“I don’t need practice. I’m going to be planning their campaign from the comfort of my log cabin.”
“Won’t your family be upset you’re not coming home this year?”
“They’re understanding.” Now it wasn’t just her stomach and her head, it was her heart and her throat. Damn. She’d thought she was tougher than this. “Thanks to Jackson O’Neil, I now have enough work to keep me going through the next five holiday seasons, so if you wouldn’t mind—”
“Brett should have gone.”
“Brett has a wife and four kids, although when he had time to make four kids I have no idea given that he’s always in the office. Anyway, O’Neil asked for me—he’s going to get me.”
Stacy’s eyebrows lifted and Kayla rolled her eyes.
“Not in that way. He’s going to get the working, professional me.” She tried not to think about those blue eyes or the width of his shoulders.
“Is there any other version? Kayla, you should not be spending the holidays alone.”
“I won’t be alone. There will be moose, raccoons and—and—” she racked her brains “—other lovely, cute Christmassy furry things.”
“Have you actually ever seen a moose?”
“Not in the flesh, no.” Thank goodness. “But I’m sure they’re adorable. Why do you ask?”
“Because a moose is not a cute furry thing. I’m checking, so you know what you’re getting into.” Leaning across the desk, Stacy tapped Kayla’s keyboard and a moment later a large image of a moose appeared, its elongated bony face filling her screen.
“Dear God—” Kayla recoiled. “That is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I rest my case.” Stacy straightened. “Still keen to spend Christmas there?”
“I won’t be spending it with a moose, that’s for sure. It will be fun. I’ve always thought log fires were romantic.”
“Not by yourself.”
“I won’t be by myself. I’ll take a pile of DVDs. My gift to myself is a boxed set called The Ultimate Horror.”
“Kayla, that’s terrible. Who spends Christmas Day watching horror movies?”
“I do.” She picked up a stack of papers destined to be her bedtime reading.
“What about food?”
“According to Brett I feast on work, but I’ll probably take popcorn.”
“Christmas Day is about sharing good food with people you love, not microwaving popcorn.”
“I love watching horror movies. It will be a treat. Now, kindly remove that moose from my desktop. I have work to do, and I can’t do it with that thing watching me.”
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_267b37d2-ed74-5ec0-9baa-3123bdb16128)
HE SAW HER before She saw him, striding purposefully through the airport, her shiny blond hair drawn into a ponytail that swung across her neck and drew glances from the men around her. She wore a long cashmere coat in a pale shade of caramel that brushed the tops of soft leather boots the color of dark chocolate. Over her shoulder was her laptop bag, and behind her she dragged a medium-sized suitcase.
Walking through the crush of tourists in their colorful ski jackets, she stood out like a gazelle in a shopping mall.
Eyeing the cashmere coat, Jackson hoped she’d packed something suitable in that suitcase.
Kayla Green might be an expert in integrated marketing, but she clearly knew sweet nothing about dressing for Vermont in December.
“Kayla!”
Seeing him, she lifted her hand in acknowledgment.
And then she smiled and the smile was sweet and genuine, as if she was really excited to be here.
It kicked at his ribs and lower. Heat shot through him. Every thought in his brain went up in smoke. Gripped by raw lust, he strode to meet her, reminding himself he had enough complications in his life without adding another one. “You were lucky. The flight after yours is grounded in Newark.” Surprised his voice sounded even vaguely normal, he reached for her case but she gripped it tightly.
“I can manage, thanks.”
“Right.” Jackson decided the case would give her something to hang on to once those soft leather boots hit the snow outside and sent her spinning to the ground. “Then let’s get going.”
“I appreciate you meeting me.” She was brisk and businesslike and he wondered how long she’d keep that up once she met his family. They had a way of sucking the professional from a person.
“You’re welcome. As a matter of interest, did you pack any winter gear in those bags?”
She glanced down at herself. “Exhibit A. Warm coat. Boots. Scarf. What am I missing?”
He thought about pointing out she might be missing fingers and toes if she didn’t find herself a few more layers, but decided she had brain enough to work it out for herself soon enough. She was dressed for Manhattan not Mount Mansfield.
“You look great.” Truthfully she looked better than great. “You might need to add some thicker layers. The snow is pretty deep at the moment. We had a big storm a few days ago and another is forecast.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. What a nuisance.”
Her comment confirmed everything he already suspected about her relationship with snow. “We’re a winter sports resort, Kayla. Snow is good. In fact it’s essential.”
“Of course it is.” Her gaze didn’t shift from his. “I knew that. I just meant, what a nuisance I didn’t bring my other boots.”
“You own a pair that doesn’t have a four-inch heel?” He tried not to look at her legs and then decided what the hell. He hadn’t seen anything that good in Vermont in a long time, and he was going to make the most of it.
“Actually, no. But it will be fine. I’m developing a public relations strategy for you, not skiing downhill.”
He refrained from pointing out she was going to be skiing downhill the moment those heels touched the ice. “We’ll find you something when we get to Snow Crystal.”
He unlocked the car and stowed her bags.
Kayla sprang into the passenger seat and her coat parted, giving Jackson another glimpse of those incredible legs.
Lust slammed into him, and he was just recovering his balance when she turned and hit him with her smile.
Christ.
Felled by that smile, Jackson wondered how the hell he was supposed to focus on the words that came out of that mouth when all he wanted to do was kiss it.
He slid into the driver’s seat and tried to erase those lips and legs from his brain. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this attracted to a woman. Lately he’d been working too hard to notice the sex of the person he was talking to.
But not this time.
Deciding that employing Kayla Green might just have made his situation more complicated, not less, he picked a neutral topic. “Have you seen much of the U.S. since you’ve been here?”
“I travel quite a bit meeting journalists and clients, but I mostly see the inside of an airplane and a hotel. You know how it is.” She settled in her seat and her perfume wafted over him, swamping his senses.
Jackson kept his hands firmly on the wheel. It was that or grab her and haul her onto his lap. He was shocked by how badly he wanted to mess up that hair and ravage that soft mouth. Eighteen months at Snow Crystal and he’d obviously lost his grip on professional. “So you’ve never been to Vermont?”
“Never. But I’ve read extensively since our last meeting. You were born here?”
So she had the facts about the place, but not the feel. “Yes, but my mother is British. She came over to work in the hotel for a winter season and met my father. Married him and stayed.”
“The last eighteen months must have been hard for all of you.”
“She’s struggling.” He decided an understanding of his family was essential to understanding the unique needs of the business. “My grandparents live at Snow Crystal. My mother has been focusing all her energies on caring for them and making sure they’re coping.”
“And how are you coping?”
No one had asked him that question before. He hadn’t even asked it of himself. Hadn’t dared.
“I’m coping fine.” He ignored the tension in his shoulders. “But it’s been hard on my family.”
“Is your mother involved in the business?”
“She helps out where she’s needed.” And that was part of the problem, of course. The lack of structure.
“What else do I need to know about your family? You mentioned a brother?”
“There are three of us. It’s a wonder my mother is even remotely sane, given what we put her through growing up.”
“Three brothers.” Something in the way she said it made him turn his head toward her, and he immediately wished he hadn’t because there was her mouth again.
“You don’t have siblings?”
“Only child. You’re the eldest?”
“Yes.” The responsibility landed like a heavy weight on his shoulders. “Then Sean, then Tyler, who lives with his twelve-year-old daughter.”
“He’s the downhill skier—retired from racing after an accident. He’s married?”
“Single parent. Jess’s mother decided Tyler wasn’t marriage material and married someone else instead.” He was surprised by how much trauma could be condensed into one short sentence.
Kayla murmured words of sympathy, and Jackson thought back to that time, thought about the boy his brother had been and the man he was now.
He wasn’t about to talk about the custody battle. Nor about the fact that Janet had never wanted Jess, just Tyler’s money and a slice of the fame. “Burned him badly. He hasn’t had a serious relationship since.”
“Not surprising. But Jess lives with him now?”
“She’s been back with us for a month.” It had been a surprising turn of events, and he felt a rush of concern for his niece. “It’s complicated.”
“Relationships are always complicated.”
“Are yours?”
“I keep mine simple.”
“What’s your secret?”
“Not to have any.” Her tone was light and then she moved off the subject, talking about work again, grilling him on tourist numbers, hotels in the local area and transport links.
She’d whipped a tablet computer out of her bag and made endless notes as they talked.
The landscape was dotted with red barns and white-steepled country churches and the late-afternoon sun sent a wash of light over breathtakingly beautiful forests turned white by snow. The view caught him in the gut. He’d traveled the world, but in his opinion there was nowhere more beautiful. Expecting some comment from her, he glanced sideways and saw that her head was bent, her attention focused on the screen on her lap.
“You’re missing the sunset.”
“Mmm?” She glanced up and her expression changed. “Oh! That’s stunning.”
And Jackson realized her lack of response had nothing to do with indifference. She simply hadn’t noticed. But she was noticing now, her eyes fixed on the snowcapped mountains that rose in the distance. “I can see why people choose to visit. It’s beautiful. And relaxing.”
For a person who knew how to relax, he thought, and that person was definitely not Kayla Green.
There was an almost-feverish energy about her, and already her head was back down, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she made more notes for herself.
She fascinated him.
“Where do you normally take your vacations?”
“I haven’t taken a vacation in three years. I’m not good at vacations. But I’m good at knowing what other people enjoy—” she gave him a quick smile “—so don’t start panicking about my ability to do the work.”
He wondered what she’d say if she knew he hadn’t thought about work since she’d climbed into his car.
They drove through villages, over covered bridges, past pretty clapboard homesteads and local stores. Doors were decorated with fresh evergreen wreaths and windows strung with sparkling lights and Christmas decorations.
Kayla alternated between looking at the screen and the gentle rise of the mountains, their snowy tops turning pink under the setting sun.
“That’s part of the ski area?”
“Yes. See the mountains to the far right?” He gestured. “You’re looking toward Stowe, home of the Front Four, some of the steepest and most difficult runs in the Northeast. And we have our share of steep in the mountains above Snow Crystal. The names are designed to make you think twice before getting off the lift—Devil’s Gully and Scream being two of them.”
“Scream? I think I could do that bit.” She turned her head as they passed a sign by the side of the road. “Moose Crossing? How do the moose know they’re supposed to cross there?”
Jackson laughed. “It’s a warning to drivers that this is an area where moose are often spotted. You have to be particularly careful when driving at night. Moose have long legs. If you hit one, the likely scenario is that the moose comes through your windshield, and if that happens you might not live to tell the tale.”
“That’s one fact I don’t recommend using in any marketing campaign.”
“You might be surprised. Tourists love spotting moose.”
“Really? I’ve only ever seen one in a picture. I think I might want to keep it that way.”
As they drew closer to Snow Crystal, Jackson lifted his hand in greeting to the people they passed, and she raised her eyebrows.
“You know everyone?”
“Small community. Everyone knows everyone. I’m talking about the locals, obviously. The population swells by a few thousand tourists all year round.” He turned the wheel and eased carefully into the long road that twisted and turned through the forest toward the lake. “Where did you grow up? I’m guessing not in the country.”
“London.” It was a typically brief answer and Jackson wondered whether it was because she didn’t want to talk about herself or because she was careful to always focus on the client.
They passed the sign for snow Crystal and she tilted her head. “Someone built a snowman.”
“Favorite activity for kids around here.”
She studied the carefully sculpted snow and the twig arms and mouth. “Was it yours?”
“Mine was stuffing snow down my brothers’ necks and then running like hell before they could retaliate. We were more into destroying than creating.”
“I suppose that’s what happens when you have three boys. Tell me about your other brother.”
“Sean? He’s an orthopedic surgeon. I take credit for that choice… .” He slowed as the surface became more uneven. “I broke my arm snowboarding when I was seven. Ran into a tree. Instead of running for help he stood there staring at the bone sticking out.”
“Oh, please—”
“I was yelling at him to get help, and all Sean could do was wonder how it was going to go back under the skin. He insisted on coming with me to the hospital so he could find out. He went to Harvard and then spent time at the Shock Trauma Center in Baltimore indulging his fascination for difficult fractures, before switching to sports medicine. At the moment he’s working in Boston and when he isn’t wearing scrubs he dresses in smart suits, drinks fine wine and dates beautiful women.”
He’d done the same, he remembered. There was a time not so long ago when he’d worn smart suits, enjoyed fine wines in good restaurants and dated beautiful women.
Now he rarely wore a suit, and apart from a couple of friendly evenings out with Brenna, who had grown up on the farm nearby and followed them around when they were kids, he hadn’t dated anyone. For the past eighteen months his life had been about saving the business.
“So he’s not back in the family fold?”
“No, but he’ll be home for Christmas.” Following an impulse, Jackson pulled over and parked. “This is one of my favorite views of Snow Crystal. From here you can see the lake, the mountain and the forest. If you come here early in the morning and late at night in the summer you can sometimes see black bear and moose.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
He smiled. “It wasn’t a warning. The wildlife is important to the tourists. Have you ever seen a bear?”
“Never. And truthfully, I hope not to. I don’t think it would be my thing, although I do meet quite a few sharks in my job.” Her eyes gleamed. “Any other wildlife I should know about apart from bear and moose? Er—anything small and friendly and less likely to kill you? A cute rabbit perhaps?”
“The animals leave you alone if you leave them alone.”
“I’ll be leaving them alone. No doubt about that. So what else interests the tourists here?”
“The view.” He considered himself good at reading people but he was finding it hard to read her.
“I’ve already written that down. The view. See?” She turned the screen toward him. “It’s on the list, above ‘moose.’”
“Instead of writing it down, why don’t you try looking at it?”
“At a moose?”
“At the view. Get out of the car.”
“Get out—you mean actually go outside and stand in the snow?” She said it slowly, as if he’d asked her to strip naked and run in circles. “You’re the client, so if you think it’s necessary then of course I’ll—” Taking a deep breath she opened the car door and then gasped and slammed it shut again. “Crap, it’s freezing out there.”
The brief loss of control convinced him he preferred Kayla with her guard down. “If you wear the right gear, you won’t feel the cold.”
“I’m definitely wearing the wrong gear. I felt it right down to my bones.” She shivered. “All right, I can do this. It’s the whole Snow Crystal experience, frostbite and all.” Opening the door gingerly she slid out of the car, one limb at a time, as if bracing herself to enter a cold swimming pool.
Jackson strolled around to her, his feet crunching on new snow. “Close your eyes.”
He could see her weighing up the risk of trusting him against the potential downside of arguing with a client.
She closed her eyes. “If the next thing I feel is a bear’s jaws closing on my arm, I resign the account. I really don’t want the whole Snow Crystal experience to include being a bear’s breakfast.”
He closed his hands over her arms. “No bears. Turn around.” Her hair brushed against his chin and the scent of it mingled with pine and freezing air. He decided that Kayla Green smelled as good as she looked. “Now open your eyes. Look through the trees.”
“What am I looking at?”
“The lake.”
She focused, her breath forming clouds in the air. “I—Oh. People are skating.”
“In Vermont the weather is the ultimate wild card, but the one thing we always have in winter is ice.
“You can skate on the lake?” Her tone was wistful. “That’s magical.”
“You want to try it?”
“It’s not that magical. I think I’m probably more of an indoor skater. But I can see others might find it charming,” she added hastily. “I’ll add it to the list underneath ‘view’ and ‘moose.’”
“Skating is fun.” He tried to imagine the businesslike, composed Kayla Green falling on her butt and then decided not to waste time imagining something that was going to be reality soon enough. There was no way she’d keep her footing in those elegant and totally impractical chocolate leather boots.
Back in the car, he turned the heating up and steered the vehicle back onto the road. “If you look through the trees to the right you can see one of our log cabins.”
She turned her head, the movement sending that blond ponytail swinging. “Is that mine?”
“No. You asked for secluded.” Had he misjudged? Why would a single girl on her own over Christmas want to be in a secluded cabin? “You can change your mind and be closer to the main lodge if you prefer.”
“A secluded cabin is my dream.”
It seemed like an odd dream for a bright, twenty-something woman.
Then he thought about the life she led, the busy nonstop adrenaline rush that was her working day. Maybe she needed a rest. There were plenty of days when a secluded cabin sounded good to him, too.
“Your cabin is right on the boundary of our land and it backs onto a deer wintering area so you’ll probably spot white-tailed deer. You might see snowshoe hare, fox, coyote, bobcats and the odd porcupine.” He slowed as he negotiated the narrowing track. “I’ll give you time to unpack and settle in before you meet the rest of the team.”
Team? He almost laughed. They weren’t a team, they were a circus.
“Do you live with your family?”
“No. I love them, but there are limits. I converted the barn.” So that he could have his own personal brick wall to bang his head against when they drove him crazy.
He drove straight along the forest road that followed the edge of the lake and pulled up outside the little rustic gate that marked the track leading to the cabin.
“We have to walk from here.”
IT WAS PERFECT.
Kayla stepped onto the path and stood for a moment, breathing in the smell of the forest and the crisp winter air. Trees soared upward, branches drooping under the heavy burden of snow. The light was fading and the last rays of the sun glinted off the frozen surface of the lake, giving it a mystical, ethereal quality. Everything was still, the silence broken only by the occasional soft thud as snow tumbled from overloaded branches.
It felt a million miles from Manhattan. A million miles from her life.
A million miles from the all-consuming madness of Christmas.
She smiled.
She could have been the only person on the planet.
And then she heard the car door slam and remembered she wasn’t the only person.
He was here.
The chemistry was a tight knot in her stomach and the frantic race of her heart.
She’d spent the journey with her head down, trying not to think about the man in the driver’s seat next to her, trying not to think about his hands, strong and sure on the wheel or his thighs, hard and muscular, dangerously close to hers. But Jackson O’Neil wasn’t easy to ignore. And he’d kept glancing at her, as if trying to work out who she really was behind the person she projected.
He made her edgy.
Striving for normality, she reached for her phone, but he shook his head as he put her bag down next to her.
“The signal is patchy here. It’s better in the cabin. I’ll leave you for a couple of hours to catch up on whatever you need to do, then I’ll pick you up and take you to the main house. I’ll do my best to keep the experience as painless as possible.”
It seemed an odd thing to say. Or maybe he thought she was nervous with no team to back her up. “It’s a meeting. I’ve taken plenty of meetings in my time.”
“This one might be a little different.”
“Different keeps things interesting. I’m looking forward to meeting your family and getting straight down to business.” She emphasized the word business as much for her benefit as his.
She didn’t want this to be about anything other than work.
As far as she was concerned, the chemistry was as unwelcome as Santa.
Telling herself that all she had to do was ignore it, Kayla turned to pick up her bag only to find he was already holding it.
“This path can be icy. You might want to hold my hand.”
What?
Certain that holding his hand would be a fast route to the dark side, she curled her fingers into her palm. “I’ll be fine.”
“We sweep the snow but there are always a few icy patches.”
She’d rather hit an icy patch than lay a hand on any of his muscles. That was a line she definitely didn’t want to cross. “I have natural balance.” Trying to look professional, Kayla adjusted her scarf. “I do yoga and Pilates.”
“Natural balance.” He watched her with a lazy, hooded gaze. “That’s good to hear.” Turning away, he unlatched the gate, carrying her bag as if it weighed nothing. “The place should be warm. There should be plenty of logs for the fire but if you need more, let me know.”
Kayla stared at those wide, powerful shoulders now encased in a warm, winter jacket.
It was obvious he’d chopped a lot of logs in his time.
Dressed in a suit, he’d unsettled her, but with a great deal of mental effort she’d managed to box him together with all the other men in suits she met on a daily basis.
Now he’d punched his way out of that box.
Given that he had his back to her she allowed herself one indulgent, entirely feminine glance of appreciation.
Stacy was right. He was insanely hot.
And because life had a way of doling out what you didn’t want at the most inconvenient moment, he turned and caught her looking. “Something wrong?”
“Just enjoying the view.” Hoping he didn’t guess exactly which view she’d been enjoying, she kept her head down and walked quickly past him. Too quickly. Her feet made brief contact with ice. There was a horrible stomach-swooping moment where she fought gravity, arms flailing like the rotor blades on a helicopter, but it was a useless battle and she landed flat on her back in the deep snow at the side of the path.
Cold oozed through the soft wool of her coat, which she hadn’t bothered fastening, and snow enveloped her. It tumbled on her face, on her chest and trickled down her boots. Snow crystals froze to the back of her neck and dampened her hair until she was chilled right through to her skull. Somehow, in the general indignity of the fall, her smart pencil skirt had managed to ride up high on her thighs, and she could feel ice numb her legs.
Kayla lay there, pinned to the ground by shock and snowflakes while Jackson strolled across to her, maddeningly secure on the slippery path.
She gritted her teeth. “If you so much as mutter ‘I told you so,’ I’m resigning the account.”
“You should have held my hand.”
“It would have felt weird holding hands with a client.”
“More weird than lying flat on your back in front of a client with one leg in Vermont and the other in New Hampshire?” He was laughing now, and the sensual curve of his mouth made her insides curl.
“I always like to conduct at least one client meeting on my back. I find it breaks the ice, although in this case it may have been my head that’s broken the ice.”
“I warned you.” His gaze moved from her face to her legs and the look in her eyes made her feel as if someone had touched her with the flame of a blowtorch.
“I preferred snow when it was my desktop image. Wearing it doesn’t feel so good.” She was trying desperately not to laugh. Her dignity was already buried under snow; she didn’t want to make it worse by having a fit of the giggles but she couldn’t help it. A gurgle of laughter escaped. So much for good impressions. “Am I fired?”
“If I hadn’t already given you the business, I’d give it to you now.” He towered over her, six foot two of solid male muscle and raw power.
“Because you’ve seen my legs?”
“Because you laughed.” His voice was dark velvet and any desire to laugh vanished.
“I’m allowed to laugh, but if you laugh I’m on the next flight back to New York and you will never find out what I would have done with this place.”
“Noted.” He held out his hand. “Do you want help getting up or are you planning on lying there for a while?”
She wasn’t sure she trusted herself to touch him. She was used to feeling sure of herself. In control. Right now, she was neither of those things. “You wanted me to enjoy the whole Snow Crystal experience so I don’t want to rush this. And then there’s the fact that I don’t think I can get up.”
Dark brows met in a frown. “You’re hurt?”
“My pride is mortally wounded and I have frostbite in unmentionable places, but really it’s nothing to worry about. I’m looking on the bright side—at least I didn’t fall into a bear’s nest.”
“Bears live in a den, Kayla, not a nest. And they’re mostly asleep right now, although I suspect if you fell into their den they’d wake up soon enough.”
Teeth chattering, she tried to reach his hand, but the snow was so deep she floundered.
Swearing under his breath, Jackson bent toward her. “Stop writhing or bears are going to be the least of your problems.” There was an edge to his voice and the look in his eyes should have melted the snow around them. For a moment they stared at each other, and then he slid his hands under her arms and lifted her to her feet in an easy movement that confirmed her suspicion that the guy probably lifted tree trunks above his head for entertainment. She felt the strength in his grip as he steadied her on the icy surface. She stood toe to toe with him, her eyes level with the dark stubble that shadowed his jaw and pushed him over onto the wrong side of dangerous. If she leaned forward her lips would be against that jaw, and from there it was only a short distance to his mouth.
And she was willing to bet Jackson O’Neil knew exactly what to do with that mouth.
Unsettled by how much she wanted to test that theory, she gripped his arm and her fingers encountered tough, unyielding muscle.
She glanced up, and her gaze clashed with the brilliant blue of his.
They were surrounded by forest and space and yet they were standing close to each other, so close, and she could feel the power of his thighs pressing through the softness of her coat. Her stomach swooped and fell. She felt as if she’d slipped on the ice again, only this time she was engulfed by heat, not cold.
“Er—” Shaken by the flash of chemistry, Kayla extracted herself from the safety of his grip and willed her boots not to slip. She felt unbalanced, not just on the outside but on the inside. “I’m fine.”
“You really want to do this again without help? As far as I can see there’s no part of you that isn’t soaked.”
“I can do this. I’m a determined person.”
“You’re also a wet, freezing person, and your boots aren’t designed for this.”
If only it were just her boots. “I can manage.”
“Right. That’s why your ponytail looks like an ice sculpture.” His tone was patient and he held out his hand. “Apart from my brother, you’re the only person standing in my corner on this project, so it’s in my interests to keep you alive. Hold on to me, or you’ll be lying on your back making another snow angel.”
“Snow angel?” Ignoring his hand, she scraped at her frozen ponytail, sending more snow sliding down her neck. She dreaded to think what she looked like but groomed wasn’t going to feature anywhere in the description. “What’s a snow angel?”
“It’s when you lie on your back and move your arms and legs until you leave the shape of an angel in the snow.” He looked curious. “Didn’t you ever make a snow angel when you were a child?”
In normal circumstances her smile might have slipped. Fortunately for her it was frozen into place by the cold. “We didn’t have much snow when I was a child. I grew up in England. Snow makes the national news.”
“What about snowmen? You ever build one of those?”
“I prefer my men warm-blooded.”
“Is that right?” The way he was looking at her made her suspect he could see straight into her head and read her mind.
Her teeth started to chatter, although whether it was from memories or her close encounter with a snowdrift she didn’t know. “I think I need to get out of my clothes.”
It was the wrong thing to say.
That disturbing blue gaze held hers for a moment and then dropped to her mouth and lingered there.
Chill turned to heat. “I meant my coat. I need to get out of my coat. There’s an avalanche happening somewhere between my neck and my boots. I might need the mountain rescue team. Do you have one of those round here?”
“We do. My brother’s a volunteer. Might get around to it myself if this place ever gives me some spare time.” Jackson lifted his hand to her hair and brushed away another lump of snow. “Your hair is curling.”
“Just one piece of good news after another.” Kayla shivered. “Can we go indoors so that I can take a shower and have another stab at being businesslike?”
“While you’re staying here stick to marked trails, and don’t step into thick snow unless you know what’s under it. This is a forest. There are ditches, streams, ponds, deep water—”
“I won’t be stepping into thick snow.”
But she already felt as if she were in deep water.
She wasn’t used to feeling this way.
Didn’t want to feel this way.
“I need to buy different footgear—you’re right about that.” She tried to ignore the dangerous simmer of heat low in her belly. She especially tried to ignore that part of her brain that told her coming here had been a very, very bad idea.
“Stand there while I fetch your bag.” He was back in a few strides, her bag in one hand, the other outstretched toward her.
This time she took it.
She rarely held hands with a man. When she dated, which wasn’t often, she followed a predictable routine. Dinner then home. Sometimes it was theater, dinner, then home. Occasionally it was sex. But she always woke in her own bed. Alone.
She knew she wasn’t good at intimacy, and holding hands was intimate.
Fortunately, the walk was short.
At the end of the path the forest opened into a clearing and there, nestled like something from a fairy tale, was the log cabin. A tasteful blend of wood and glass, it merged with the forest as if it had grown there.
“Oh.” Enchanted, Kayla stopped. She forgot about being wet and feeling cold. She forgot that she was holding his hand. “It’s like something from Hansel and Gretel.”
“We can provide gingerbread, but finding a cannibalistic witch might be harder.”
“It’s idyllic.”
“Glad you think so. Let’s get you inside before frostbite sets in.” He kept hold of her hand until they reached the front door. Then he released his grip on her and delved into his pocket for a set of keys. “Stand there and don’t move.”
Ignoring that instruction, Kayla stooped and unzipped her boots. “I don’t want to bring all that snow indoors.”
“There’s more on you than on your shoes.” He pushed open the door and handed her the keys.
Kayla stepped over the threshold and removed her coat, depositing half a ton of snow by the door. “I’m making a mess.”
“The place is designed for people who enjoy the outdoors.”
“What about people who are wearing the outdoors?” Kayla decided not to mention that she had snow in her bra. “Please tell me this place has a shower and unlimited hot water.”
“All that and more. I’ll show you around.”
“Thanks.” She would have preferred him to leave and give her nerves time to recover. “Where can I buy boots?”
“Brenna might have something that will fit you. If not, we have a small store in the resort that stocks a limited range.”
“Who is Brenna?”
“She runs our ski program. She’s lived around here all her life. She’ll be a good person for you to talk to if you want to get a feel for the place.”
“Right.” Unsettled by those blue eyes, Kayla took a few steps into the room and looked around her properly for the first time. “I love this.”
The main living area was double height with a cathedral ceiling and glass windows soaring up to the rafters. In the corner of the room a pretty iron staircase spiraled up to a sleeping “shelf” where a large bed was positioned to take maximum advantage of the views of the forest and lake.
“The master bedroom is downstairs, but you can lie up on the shelf and watch the lake and the wildlife. It can be used as a second bedroom, but we stipulate no kids under twelve because the only access is the spiral staircase. It’s a perfect place to sleep.”
Or a perfect place for insomniacs. At least here, when she was lying awake, she’d have a view.
Kayla wanted to climb up that staircase, lie down and not get up until January. All she’d see from that bed were glistening snowy treetops. No overdecorated shop windows, no festively fuelled Christmas shoppers and, most of all, no happy families.
“I don’t understand why this place is vacant over the holidays. You should have been able to book it ten times over.”
“I’m hoping once you’ve worked your magic we’ll be doing that.”
Kayla paced the length of the living room. “The way you’ve built it—the way it’s designed—” she tilted back her head and looked through glass into the twilight and the forest “—it’s as if the outside is inside. It’s like being part of the forest and the mountains. You can virtually feel the snow, without any of the cold.”
“That was the idea.”
“It’s magical.” Forgetting she was wet and shivering, Kayla walked across the wooden floor, taking in all the tiny details from the basket of roughly chopped logs next to the flickering fire, to the twist of delicate lights that hung from rafters to floor turning the space into the equivalent of a fairy grotto.
Soft, deep-cushioned sofas in a deep shade of green faced each other across a rug. Tall bookshelves made from reclaimed wood lined one wall of the cabin.
It was a mixture of sumptuous luxury and cozy homeliness.
“Couples,” Kayla muttered under her breath, pacing toward what she assumed was the master bedroom while Jackson stood in the center of the room, thumbs tucked into his jeans as he watched her. “It’s romantic. This place has to be all about couples.”
And that suspicion was confirmed when she opened the door to the bedroom and saw the large log bed dressed in colors of the forest. Deep greens blended with cream and hints of silver that shone like light reflecting off crystal. Glass doors opened onto the wide deck, and she smiled as she saw the hot tub.
“Definitely couples.”
“That’s how I planned it, but we don’t seem to be attracting that segment of the market.”
“Then it’s because they don’t know about it. But they will.”
He leaned against the door frame. “You’re confident.”
“I know my job.” Kayla strolled to the glass doors and looked out onto the deck. “If you were staying here you could lie in the hot tub, stare into the snowy forest and watch the wildlife on the lake.” She could imagine that all too easily, imagine it with him, and imagining it brought the color rushing into her cheeks. “How private is it? Do people walk past here?”
“No. Hence the gate at the end of the path. I wanted each property to be secluded.”
“So you could lie naked in the hot tub.” She murmured the words to herself, thinking aloud and then realized what she’d said and felt the sudden shift in the atmosphere.
“Yes.” He spoke slowly and there was a rough note to his voice that made her stomach flip and heat rush across her skin. “You could.”
“Give me some time to think about it. I’ll come back to you with some ideas as soon as I have something worth sharing.” She could feel him watching her and knew that if she turned her head, the look they’d share would be more than a casual glance.
She kept her gaze fixed on the forest, feeling as if her body were on fire.
“I’ll pick you up from here at six.” His voice was husky. “That should give you time to unpack and settle in before you meet the rest of the family.”
“I can walk. It will give me a feel for the place.” And time to refocus. And maybe roll naked in the snow to cool herself down. “I’ll put my boots to dry. They’ll be fine.”
“Those are the same boots you were wearing when you slipped and almost knocked yourself unconscious?” They strolled back into the living area and Jackson reached for his jacket. “About tonight’s meeting—” He shrugged on the jacket and zipped it. “It’s not going to be easy.”
“I do this for a living. It won’t be a problem.”
It was Jackson who worried her, not the prospect of meeting his family and talking business.
Why would it? She’d handled skeptical CEOs who thought PR was a waste of money. She could handle his grandfather with her eyes shut.
And once she’d done that, she’d be spending a whole week in a luxury log cabin with work, a stack of books and DVDs.
What more could a Santa-hating workaholic ask for?
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_82fdc98e-7004-57a3-81cc-66e6993a12f3)
“SO DID SUPERWOMAN ARRIVE?” Tyler strolled across his brother’s kitchen and snagged a beer from the fridge. “I thought she might turn around and fly straight back to New York once she found out what she was dealing with.”
“She doesn’t know what she’s dealing with, but she soon will. With luck all the flights will be grounded and the roads closed. Please help yourself to my beer. Don’t hold back.”
“I won’t. Being in this family is enough to drive a man to drink, so the least you can do is supply the damn stuff.” Tyler peered into the fridge. “This is the last one. You need to get to the store.”
“That’s one option. Another would be for you to stop drinking my beer and buy your own.”
“I’ll go with the first.” Tyler elbowed the door shut. “I’m earning it this week. I’m giving private ski lessons to some spoiled teenage princess who cares more about her hair than linking her turns.”
“Good to know you’re earning your keep.”
“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer. So does your woman ski?”
“I doubt she’s even seen a ski close up, and she’s not my woman.” Jackson thought about how close he’d come to kissing her when he’d hauled her out of the deep snow. She’d been right there in his hands, soft and womanly and as aware of him as he was of her.
He’d seen her fighting it. He’d been fighting it, too, but she’d done a better job than him. She’d frozen him out. Smoothly and with finesse, but still the distance had been there. Which was probably a good thing. His life was complicated enough without adding to it.
Tyler raised his eyebrows. “It was a casual remark, but judging from your expression I hit a nerve. So is she hot?”
Jackson thought about her skirt riding high on her thighs.
Hot? Hell, yes.
“Our relationship is professional and it’s staying professional. And that goes for your relationship with her, too.”
“In other words you’re struggling to keep your hands off her. Interesting.”
“Why is it interesting?”
“Because for the past eighteen months you’ve been too involved with the business to notice a woman.”
“Not true.”
Tyler strolled to the central island in the kitchen and hooked a stool with his foot. “Tell me the name of the last woman you dated.”
“Brenna.”
“What? Our Brenna?” His brother’s tone chilled fractionally. “Brenna we grew up with?”
“The same Brenna who stuffed snow down your pants when you were ten. The same Brenna who runs our ski program.” Jackson watched as a snow bunting landed on a branch near the window. Through the trees the lake sparkled in the late-evening sunshine. If it had been a few degrees warmer he would have taken his beer onto the deck and watched the sun go down over the lake and mountains. He realized that the summer had passed and he’d had no time to sit and enjoy it.
Next year, he promised himself. Next year he’d slow down long enough to sit outside his own barn and breathe in the air.
“Well, hell—” Tyler sat down at the stone-topped island that formed the focus of the large kitchen, “did you and she—”
“What business is it of yours if we did?”
“So that means you did?”
Jackson turned with a frown. “Christ, Tyler—”
“I guess I just never saw you and Brenna together.” His brother looked so shaken Jackson took pity on him.
“We’re not together. There was no chemistry.”
“So if there was no chemistry, why the hell did you date?”
“Let’s just say our work conversations overran so we took it to the bar, and then we took it out to dinner a couple of times.”
“But you didn’t take it to bed?”
“You’re asking who I take to bed?”
“Just looking out for her, that’s all. She’s like a sister to me.”
Jackson wondered if his brother could really be so clueless about Brenna’s feelings. “Ty—”
“And then there’s the issue of working together. If you two are tiptoeing around each other, I need to know that.”
“There’s no tiptoeing.” He decided it wasn’t his business to say anything.
“For the record, I think Kayla Green would be perfect for you.”
“You haven’t met her.”
“She’s obviously clever and you think she’s hot.”
“She can’t ski.”
“So? No one can keep up with you on the ski slope anyway so you’re not exactly looking for company. But if it bothers you, get her skiing. Take her to the top of a steep slope and she’ll be so grateful when you rescue her, she’ll think you’re a hero and have sex with you. That one always works.” Tyler lifted his beer and drank.
“Are you serious?” Jackson shook his head. “On second thought, don’t answer that. As you pointed out, personal relationships with a colleague make things awkward. And it’s unprofessional.”
“To hell with professional, it’s Christmas. People do crazy things at Christmas.”
“Round here people don’t wait until Christmas, they do crazy things all the time.” Jackson leaned against the cabinet and nursed his beer while Tyler glanced around him.
“I like what you’ve done to this place.” He scanned the custom-made cabinets, relaxed now the conversation had moved away from Brenna.
“Glad someone approves. Gramps thinks I’ve wasted money.”
“Cheaper than the psychiatrist bills you would have been paying if you’d moved in with them. I’m thinking of doing something similar with the Lake House.”
“Good idea, especially now you have Jess with you. How’s that going?”
“I need a manual on how to handle women.”
“From what I’ve heard, you wrote that manual.”
“Not the teenage version.”
The atmosphere shifted and Jackson put his beer down. “Something wrong?” Light slanted through the windows, reflecting off shiny pans hanging from wooden beams. It occurred to him that so far he hadn’t cooked a single thing in those pans.
“Apart from the fact her mother had another baby and decided Jess was getting in the way of her new family and that this would be a good time to remember I exist?” Tyler’s voice hardened. “What the hell did I ever see in Janet Carpenter?”
“You were young. Shallow. She had an impressive rack.”
“There was that.” Tyler stared at the bottle in his hand. “And I was flattered. Older woman and all. I thought it was birthday and Christmas rolled into one when she got me in that barn. All I ever got from that encounter was trouble.”
Jackson watched as the snow bunting flew off over the lake. “You got Jess.”
“Yeah—” Tyler’s voice softened. “Yeah, I got her. And she’s the best. You should see her on skis. Great balance, no fear. And that worries me. She’ll ski down anything with a gradient.”
“You were the same.”
“Maybe I was, but that doesn’t stop me wishing she’d show caution. She’s lived most of her life in Chicago. She doesn’t know mountains.”
“If you’re worried, take her out with you.”
“And give Janet something to use against me? No way.”
“Hell, Ty, she virtually sent the kid away. She’s hardly in a position to challenge your parenting skills.”
“Maybe, but I’m not taking the risk. I’ve finally got her back and I’m not going to screw this up.”
Jackson knew his brother was still tormented by the fact he hadn’t been given custody in the first place. It had been a hideous, ugly time, and he was one of the few who knew the truth of it.
Maybe it wasn’t surprising Tyler hadn’t noticed how Brenna felt. He hadn’t just been hurt, he’d been scarred.
“Have you talked to Jess about it?”
“She won’t talk to me.” Tyler sounded tired. “I even tried asking her straight-out what’s wrong. First time in my life I’ve asked a woman if she wanted to talk about what was bothering her. I even stayed around long enough for her to answer.”
“And did she?”
“She gave me a look and told me I wouldn’t understand.” Tyler stared at the bottle in his hand. “Wasn’t going to argue with that one. Truth? I don’t think she wants to be here. She wants to be back with her mother.”
“She’s always loved being here.”
“A visit is different to living somewhere permanently. Janet hated it here.”
“Jess isn’t her mother.”
“But she’s lived with Janet long enough, and we both know Janet hates me.”
Jackson didn’t argue. Knowing Janet Carpenter, he thought it unlikely she’d held back from expressing her views on Tyler. “Jess loves you, Ty.”
“Does she?”
“I know she does. She’s confused.”
“She’s not the only one.”
“You’re entering the realm of the teenage girl.”
“Does that realm include multiple door slamming and hours spent alone in her room? If so, I’m already there.” He shook his head. “I thought women were meant to be the communicators of the species.”
“Maybe you should talk to Mom about it. At least having Jess back will give her something to focus on.”
“You’d think so, but Jess is shutting her out, too. She’s transformed overnight from sweet kid to reclusive teen.”
“Give it time. She’s only been back with you for a month.”
“This was always her favorite time of year. She’s spent every Christmas here since Janet took her away. What sort of mother doesn’t want her kid around at Christmas? Not that I’m complaining about that part.” There was an edge to Tyler’s voice that only ever happened when he talked about his ex-wife. “But normally I can’t get Jess out of their kitchen in the holidays. If she’s not decorating Santa cookies, she’s gluing snowflakes, cutting out reindeer, or singing ‘Jingle Bells’ all over the house at the top of her voice. When I asked her this morning if she wanted to go and bake with Grandma, she told me she’s not a baby anymore.”
“That’s true. Twelve. Hell, how did that ever happen?”
“It happened, and all she wants to do now is ski vertical slopes. Do you think she’s suicidal?” For once Tyler wasn’t smiling or making light of life, and Jackson lowered his beer.
“No, I don’t. What I think is that you need to chill.”
“That’s why I’m drinking your beer.” Tyler glanced at his watch. “What time are we gathering to hear your woman?”
“If you’re talking about Kayla, I’m picking her up from the lodge at six. You don’t have to be there.”
“A mad moose wouldn’t keep me away. I have to watch how she handles Gramps. Think she’ll cope with it, or is he going to walk all over her?”
Jackson couldn’t imagine anyone walking over Kayla Green, but he was under no illusions. She was going to need all her skills to win over Walter Mont-gomery O’Neil.
“We’ll see how she does.” He picked up his jacket. “I plan on getting through the ‘meeting’ and then buying her dinner in the restaurant as compensation. I figure after an hour with our family, she’s going to need a drink. Probably ten drinks.”
Tyler lifted his eyebrows. “But this isn’t a date, right?”
“It’s work.” Ignoring the look his brother gave him, Jackson scooped up his keys. “Buy some beer. That way there might be some in my fridge next time you open it.”
IT WAS JUST a meeting.
She’d been to hundreds of meetings, and this one wasn’t any different.
Energized after a hot shower, Kayla pulled another pencil skirt off a hanger and put it on the bed next to her black cashmere sweater. Smart and warm. Wearing it would show she could be practical when the need arose.
Grabbing her suitcase, she picked out her favorite pair of black heels. She’d walk over in her boots and then change into her shoes.
Wrapped in a towel, cheeks still pink from the heat of the hair dryer, Kayla mentally ran through the way she intended to play the meeting.
They’d be skeptical, so she’d show them what PR could do for them.
They’d assume she didn’t know anything about their business, so she’d prove to them she’d memorized all the statistics and facts. That she knew Snow Crystal.
Finally, she’d show them what she’d achieved for other clients.
She’d show Jackson O’Neil that she might be useless at walking on ice, but when it came to understanding marketing there would be no slips. Her traction would be perfect.
She wondered why he was so concerned about the meeting.
Apart from my brother, you’re the only person I have in my corner. It’s in my interests to keep you alive.
The irony didn’t escape her. She’d never met a man’s family before. Never got to that point in a relationship, and here she was about to meet Grandma.
Kayla straightened her hair until there was no sign of her encounter with the snow, livened up the severe black sweater with a silver scarf covered in tiny stars and added a pair of silver hoops to her ears before checking her reflection quickly in the camera on her phone.
Go, Kayla.
By the time Jackson rapped on the door, she was confident she was ready for anything they threw at her.
He parked outside the main house. Tiny lights hung along the eaves and were twisted into the trees.
It could have been worse, she thought. At least there were no grinning Santas or illuminated reindeer with flashing antlers.
Jackson unclipped his seat belt. “Nervous?”
Yes, she was nervous, but she had a feeling that had more to do with the man sitting next to her than the prospect of the meeting. All he’d done was drive, but there was a tight knot in her belly and all she could think about was sex. Her gaze slid to the sensual curve of his mouth and then away again.
What the hell was wrong with her? Stacy was right. She needed to get out more. “I’m excited. You have a business issue to solve and that’s what I do.” What she didn’t do was stare at her client and wonder how it would feel to be kissed by him.
“I hope you still feel the same way by the end of the meeting.”
Anxious to get away from him, Kayla slid out of the car and stared at the path, weighing up her chances of making it to the door without falling over. “I might hold your arm this time.”
“Good to know you learn from your mistakes.” There was laughter in his voice and something else, something rougher and more dangerous that told her he was feeling exactly the way she was feeling.
Her gaze met the deep blue of his, and the sudden flash of chemistry punched the breath from her lungs.
It was like falling on an electric fence.
She grabbed his arm. “First thing tomorrow I’m buying proper footwear.”
She held his arm for as little time as possible and then paused in the doorway to tug off her boots and slide on shoes that gave her at least another three inches in height.
Pushing her boots into her bag, she smoothed her hair. “I’m ready.”
Jackson stared down at her feet. His gaze traveled slowly up her legs and finally ended up at her mouth. He hadn’t touched her but suddenly her lips tingled and her throat felt dry.
“We should—”
“Yeah, we should—” His tone was thickened and then he frowned slightly and turned to push open the door.
Sleigh bells jangled, breaking the spell. Kayla stared at the pretty cluster of bells tied to the door handle below a glossy wreath made of juniper and spruce.
“What are those?”
“My father proposed to my mother in a horse-drawn sleigh. She kept the bells as a memento and hangs them on the door at Christmas.”
Oh, great. That was all she needed. “Your mother loves Christmas?”
“Yes. She loves decorating for the holidays. Be warned—our tree is usually bigger than the one outside the Rockefeller Center.”
Digesting that less-than-welcome news, Kayla stared gloomily at the bells.
They were just decorations, she reminded herself. And at least her cabin was a Christmas-free zone.
She walked into the house and stopped in surprise as she took in the details of the room and saw the number of people crowded around the large table.
“Oh, I—This is—” She turned to look at Jackson, confused. “This is the kitchen.”
“That’s right.”
“The kitchen leads to your meeting room?”
The kitchen is our meeting room.” He closed the door on the cold and Kayla felt a flash of panic as she turned back to face her audience.
They were holding this meeting in the kitchen?
She glanced around and saw shiny saucepans and stainless steel. Bunches of herbs hung drying above the range. Surfaces gleamed, but this was no showroom kitchen. It was lived-in and loved. There were boots of various sizes lined up by the door and shelves stacked with recipe books. It was easy to imagine the three O’Neil boys rushing in from the snow, hoping to grab some freshly baked treats.
A woman hefted a large blue casserole dish into the oven and gave them a welcoming smile.
“You must be Kayla. We’ve heard so much about you. I’m Elizabeth O’Neil, Jackson’s mother. Alice and Walter, his grandparents—” she nodded her head in their direction “—and Tyler, Jackson’s brother. Jess might join us later but I’m sure you won’t mind that. Now come on in and let me take your coat.” She closed the oven door and hurried over, the smile still on her face, her arms outstretched.
Kayla took a hasty step backward, and the sharp heel of her stiletto drove hard into Jackson’s foot.
He swore under his breath and then his hands closed around her arms and he steadied her. “Do you have a license for that weapon?”
She didn’t answer. Terrified she was about to be hugged, Kayla thrust her hand out, almost winding his mother in the process. “Pleased to meet you.”
Jackson released her. “My mother is British, so you have that in common.” He smoothed over the potentially awkward beginning. “Thirty-five years ago she arrived to cook for a winter season and never left.”
“Why would I leave? I never saw anywhere more perfect than this place, and I’m sure Kayla agrees.”
Kayla was ready to agree to anything in order to get out of this Christmas grotto as fast as possible. “Absolutely. It’s stunning. Good to meet you, Mrs. O’Neil.”
“Call me Elizabeth, dear. We’re not formal.” Warm and friendly, his mother took Kayla’s coat, frowning as she hung it up. “It’s wet. Is it snowing again?”
“No. I fell.”
“You let her fall?” Elizabeth O’Neil turned reproachful eyes on her eldest son. “You didn’t hold her arm? Shame on you, Jackson.”
“It was my fault,” Kayla said stiffly. “I’m not used to walking on ice, but it won’t happen again.”
Elizabeth nodded approval. “Because next time you’ll hold his arm.”
“No.” Kayla had already promised herself she was going to keep physical contact to a minimum. “Next time I’ll be wearing better boots. I’m going to sort that out first thing tomorrow.”
Jackson’s grandmother made a sympathetic noise. “I’m not surprised you fell. It’s so icy. I’m afraid to go out in winter since I had my hip done and as for the cold—” Alice O’Neil peered at Kayla from across the table. “Are you wearing thermal underwear under that sweater? The wool looks thin. And your skirt is quite short. We don’t want you catching cold while you’re here. Jackson, you should take Kayla to buy underwear.”
Kayla felt heat rush into her cheeks. “I—” How was she supposed to respond to that? She was used to small talk that involved observations on the weather or the traffic in Manhattan. Occasionally people touched on the economy. No one ever mentioned underwear. “I’m warm, but thank you for your concern.” She shot Jackson a desperate look, feeling like a deer circled by a pack of hungry wolves. “Shall I begin my presentation?”
“Why do young girls wear so much black?” Walter O’Neil added his contribution from the far end of the table. “When I was young, black was for funerals.”
“I love color. You’d look pretty in green, Kayla.” Alice held out a ball of yarn to Kayla, who stared at it as if she were being offered a grenade.
Jackson’s brother gave a slow, wicked smile. “We’re very pleased to meet you Kayla. And I love the skirt. Don’t change anything about it, especially not the length—unless you want to make it shorter.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t a nice skirt,” Alice said stoutly. “I said it was short and with the weather like this—”
“She’s warm, Grams. Don’t worry.” Jackson put his hand on Kayla’s back and urged her into the room. “And she looks smart in black. If people would listen for a moment, you’d discover she’s smart in other ways, too.” He pulled out a chair and offered it to Kayla, who sat gratefully.
They’d done the small talk now, so hopefully they could move on to business.
“I’m really excited to be working with you.” She thought she heard a snort from Walter O’Neil, but when she looked at him he was handing a fresh ball of yarn to Alice. “I’ve prepared a presentation that will give you a better picture of some of the ways in which we can help build your business.” She pulled her computer out of her bag. Just touching the smooth surface helped her relax. It was like suddenly discovering there was a trusted friend in the room. “I’ll start by going through a few of the campaigns we’ve run for other people.”
Glancing up she noticed the photographs lining the walls of the kitchen.
There was Walter O’Neil looking handsome with an ax clasped in his hands in a photo taken at least forty years earlier. One of the family dogs. Another of the three O’Neil boys dusted in snow after a snowball fight. There was Tyler standing on the podium collecting a gold medal, and a man she didn’t recognize—presumably the other brother—at his graduation. It was a visual record of the passage of time. The story of the O’Neil family.
Jackson followed her gaze. “My mother loves photographs. She also loves embarrassing us by displaying them for people to see.” There was amusement in his tone and something else. Love. This man loved his family. That was why he was here and not thousands of miles away in Europe, running his own business.
Realizing she was supposed to smile, Kayla smiled obligingly.
“The kitchen is where I spend my time.” Elizabeth turned on the heat under a pan. “Why wouldn’t I hang them in here? It makes me happy seeing Michael on that sledge. And I love that one of you boys taken right after that snowball fight. Look at their faces, Kayla—you can see what a handful they were. They loved the snow. Show them a slope of any sort and those boys of mine would ski down it. Didn’t matter what was at the bottom. They couldn’t play together without fighting but nor could they bear to be apart. Turned me gray prematurely.” But her face was all smiles, and she was clearly a woman whose life was fed and nurtured by family.
Feeling like an alien from another planet, Kayla hunted for something to say that wasn’t “get me out of here.” “They’re lovely photographs.” There was a thickness in her throat that hadn’t been there a few moments before.
It was this damn place, she thought. This lovely, cozy kitchen all prepared for Christmas. There were bowls of pinecones and vases filled with long branches of forest greenery. Candles flickered on shelves next to handmade decorations and Christmas cards with scrawled messages of love.
She thought about her apartment in Manhattan. Sleek, stark and without a single homey touch. No messages of love.
“Kayla?” Jackson’s prompt cut through her thoughts. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” But it was a lie. She wasn’t all right.
Blocking out her surroundings, she tried to put her laptop on the table and discovered there was no room.
“Move your knitting, Alice.” Elizabeth O’Neil swept a small pile of yarn out of the way. “Have you seen Kayla’s computer? It’s so small. Isn’t technology fantastic?”
Kayla stared transfixed at the neat rows of gingerbread Santas waiting patiently in line to be iced.
A memory, long buried, awoke in her brain.
Despite the warmth of the kitchen, the chill spread through her. She felt horribly cold.
“Are you hungry, honey?” Alice carefully lifted a Santa onto a plate and pushed it toward her. “Aren’t they beautiful? Try one. They taste as good as they look.”
“No, thank you.”
Alice clucked with disapproval. “You young girls are always dieting, but of course that’s why you’re so lovely and slim.”
“I’m not dieting. I’m just not hungry right now.” There was a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Jackson’s grandmother reached across and patted her hand. “You don’t need to be nervous, honey. And we’re just so grateful to you for giving up your holidays to help us.”
The kindness almost finished her.
“Why are you doing that?” Walter narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why aren’t you at home with your family?”
Elizabeth frowned. “Walter!”
“I’m just asking myself what sort of person chooses to work rather than spend Christmas with their family.”
The sort of person whose family didn’t want them.
Kayla gripped her laptop. “I’ve prepared a presentation for you. I hope it will help show some of the ways Innovation can help you with your business.”
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