Snowbound Cinderella (10 page)

“No.” She put a hand on his arm. “Don’t leave me. I don’t need anything. Just you.”

“Umm. I like the sound of that.” He loved the way the gentle curves of her body fit so perfectly against him. Like the missing pieces of a puzzle. Complete.
He
felt complete.

The thought startled him. Now where had that come from? He’d never before needed anyone to make him feel complete. Being alone didn’t equal loneliness. All his life he’d been content to be a loner. A man who could pull his own weight, see to his own needs. Leave when he wanted to. Stay if it suited him. Live the way he wanted. He felt a sudden flash of alarm, then took a deep breath and told himself to relax. This changed nothing. They were just…good together.

Annoyed with the direction of his thoughts, he started to draw away. “Maybe I’d better add another log to the fire.”

“No need. I’ll warm you.” She drew him close and pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat.

Against her mouth she could feel his pulse jump, and then begin to race like a runaway freight train. “My, my, Mr. Lockhart. A bit nervous, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “I’m not used to having someone kiss my neck. It tickles.”

“Really? You mean—” she already had her fingers
crawling over him, teasing his chin, his neck, his chest “—you’re ticklish?”

“Knock it off, Hollywood. Don’t even think about—”

With a devilish laugh she rolled slightly, straddling him, and bent low to press kisses across his throat, along his shoulder, down his collarbone. Her hair swirled forward, teasing his chest. “What else aren’t you used to? Where else are you ticklish?”

He grabbed a handful of her hair and lifted her head. “Careful, Hollywood. This could lead to all kinds of dangerous things.”

“Ooh. I just love a dangerous man.” She laughed and began to move over him, until, with a moan, he caught her roughly by the arms. In the blink of an eye he rolled them both over and began savagely devouring her mouth.

The laughter died in her throat as the kiss deepened, and his hands—those quick, clever hands—began to work their magic.

His eyes were hot and fierce as they locked on hers. “What is it about you? What the hell have you done to me?”

“I think it’s something we’ve done to each other. Whatever it is, I don’t want it to end.”

“Yeah. Me neither.”

And then he was taking her down, down once more into that dark, murky world of unleashed passion and desire. A world they had only begun to explore.

Jace lay watching Ciara as she slept in his arms. He loved looking at her. The way her lashes cast
spikey shadows on her cheeks. The way her lips pursed, as though remembering his kiss even in sleep.

He leaned close, studying her flawless skin, and felt a hitch around his heart. She was quite simply the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. If he had a lifetime, he would never grow tired of looking at her.

If he had a lifetime.
What a foolish thought. They had, at best, a couple of days. Then both of them would go their separate ways.

The thought brought a shaft of unexpected pain. In his whole life he’d never been bothered by goodbyes. In fact, leaving had always meant the start of a new adventure. Something he’d always anticipated more than a kid at Christmas. So why was he letting this get to him? Why was he agonizing over the lack of time? Why couldn’t he accept this as merely another new thing to be savored, enjoyed, before moving on with his life?

Ciara’s lashes fluttered open. She studied him a moment before saying, “Regrets?”

“Don’t be silly.”

“Then why this?” She touched a finger to the frown line between his brows. “Do I make you so unhappy?”

“Of course not. It isn’t you. It was just a thought.”

“Not a very happy one, from the way you look.”

He shook his head, wishing he could dispel the mood that had begun to set in. “No. Not a happy thought.”

“Maybe this will help.” She twined her arms
around his neck and drew him down for a long, slow kiss. “Mmm. Good morning, Jace.”

“’Morning, Hollywood.” He could already feel the heat beginning. The slow gradual simmer that began deep inside, then radiated upward to his loins, then pulsed through his veins until the blood in them flowed like lava. It was becoming a familiar ritual.

All through the night they had loved, then slept, then loved again. Each time it had been different. At times hot, furious, impatient, with all the frenzy of a summer storm. Other times slow and easy, like old lovers who knew each other’s bodies as intimately as their own, and who had all the time in the world to enjoy them.

“Did that help?” she whispered.

“Oh, yeah. The unhappy thought is completely wiped from my mind.” He plunged his hands into her hair and stared into her eyes. “The only problem is, now I have a new thought.”

“Does it make you sad?”

He shook his head and brushed his mouth lightly over hers. “It just makes me hungry.”

“There you go again. A man and his stomach. Always thinking about food.”

“I wasn’t talking about that kind of hunger.” He nuzzled her lips, then the corner of her mouth.

“Oh.” She brightened. “The other kind. The good kind.”

“Yeah.” He traced the outline of her lips with his tongue until she sighed and opened her mouth for him. “The best kind.”

“You have a very devious mind, Jace Lockhart. I like the way you think.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. Because my brain has affected other parts of my anatomy.”

“I’ve heard it said that men think with—other parts of their anatomy.”

He chuckled, low and deep in his throat. “So, would you like to see what I’m thinking?”

She opened her mouth to reply, but he swallowed her words with a kiss so filled with hunger that it startled them both. And then he took her on a long, slow journey, determined to make whatever time they had together as satisfying, as perfect, as possible.

Sunlight stabbed at Ciara’s closed lids. She yawned, stretched, then watched as Jace, naked, fed logs to the dying fire. He had such a beautiful body. She loved watching the play of muscle across his shoulders as he lifted each log and set it just so, building the fire with the same quiet competence that he did everything else.

“Good morning,” she called. “I can’t believe I slept this late.”

“’Morning, sleepyhead.” He glanced over his shoulder. “We both slept in. The thing that finally woke me was the cold.” He turned, started toward her. “I’m afraid I was so busy with…other things, I neglected my duty and let the fire burn down to practically nothing but ashes.”

“That’s all right. I had my love to keep me—” The words died in her throat as she caught sight of
the long, puckered scar that ran from his hip to his ankle. She sat up and covered her mouth with her hand, but not before she let out a cry. “Oh, Jace. How did you…?” She saw him grimace, and instantly regretted her reaction.

She struggled to keep her voice emotionless. “I’m sorry. That was careless of me. It’s just that I didn’t have a chance to see your scar in the dark. I guess this is a souvenir of the bombing?”

He nodded.

She caught his hands and drew him down beside her. “It looks like it must have been horribly painful.”

He rubbed his leg, feeling the ever-present ache. “The doctors have done all they can. They said I just have to be patient and give it some time.”

“How bad was it?”

He shrugged. “Severed a few nerves and tendons. There’ll be some permanent numb spots. But at least they saved the leg.”

Her gaze flew to his face. “You mean, you were in danger of losing it?”

He nodded. “It was a possibility. Things looked grim for a while. It took a lot of therapy, but I managed to walk out of the hospital under my own steam. That’s more than I can say for a lot of the other survivors. Some weren’t so lucky.” He wouldn’t look at her. Couldn’t. Because he couldn’t bear the look of horror and revulsion he knew he’d see in her eyes.

“Oh, Jace.”

She shocked him by pressing kisses along the
length of the scar. All he could do was watch as she kissed him with such tenderness. Then she drew him close and kissed his scarred cheek, before pressing her mouth to his.

Against his lips she murmured, “I’d give anything if I could take away your pain.”

He clutched her shoulders and drew her a little away, staring into her eyes. “Do you know how incredible you are?”

She blinked. “Why do you say that?”

He shook his head. “You really don’t know, do you?” He let out a long, slow breath. “I’ve been afraid to have you see this. It’s so ugly, most people would be sickened by the sight of it and would have to turn away. But you…you not only look at it, you try to kiss away the hurt.”

“I would if I could.”

For the space of a heartbeat he studied her. Then on a sigh he drew her close and covered her mouth with his in a kiss so hot, so hungry, it robbed her of breath.

“You just did, Ciara.” He laid her down and covered her body with his. And as he pressed kisses to her eyes, her nose, the corner of her mouth, he whispered, “By whatever magic you possess, you’ve managed to do what all the doctors and all the medicines couldn’t. You’ve managed to erase all my pain.”

“H
ere. Let me get the door.” Ciara, arms laden with food from the shed, hurried up the steps and nudged open the door for Jace, who trailed behind her carrying an armload of logs.

“I’m starving.” He dropped to his knees on the hearth and piled logs on the burning coals.

“No wonder.” She peeled off her parka and immediately began rummaging through the cupboards. “It’s almost time for lunch, and we’re just thinking about breakfast.” She began breaking some eggs into a bowl.

“That’s all right.” He glanced over and gave her a smoldering glance. “I had better things on my mind this morning.”

She laughed. “And I must say, Mr. Lockhart, you have a very inventive mind.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Hollywood.” When the fire was blazing, he hung his parka, then came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. For a moment she paused to lean back into him while he pressed his lips to her neck.

“Why don’t I make the coffee, while you’re scrambling those eggs?”

She shivered. His kisses made her knees go weak. “Good idea.”

Instead, he brought his hands under her sweater and began to move them upward until they covered her breasts. “Maybe I have a better idea.”

Her body reacted instantly to his touch, but she managed a laugh. “That idea kept us on the sofa all morning. Remember?”

“Are you complaining?”

“Complaining? Far from it. But my stomach is. I’m really hungry, Jace.”

“Yeah. Me too. But I thought…” He nibbled her neck. “I thought I’d just feast on you a little longer.”

She sighed. “Any longer and we’ll both starve.”

“All right, spoilsport.” He lowered his hands, and pressed a kiss to her ear. “Guess I’ll make that coffee.”

He sauntered across the room—like a rooster, she thought. She couldn’t help grinning as she finished scrambling the eggs.

“How about the toast?” he called from across the room. “Want me to make some? Or would you prefer more biscuits?”

“Toast is fine.” She carried the skillet to the fire and began gently stirring. “You know, primitive living isn’t all that hard.”

He shot her a look of surprise. “You call this primitive? We have enough firewood to last a year or more. We have cupboards stocked with every conceivable food. We have comfortable beds…” He saw her grin and added, “Okay. We even have a not-so-comfortable
floor and a very narrow sofa. But tonight, I promise, we’ll try the bed. And,” he went on, “with the help of our temperamental generator, we even have an occasional warm bath. That’s a far cry from primitive. Just think what our ancestors felt like when they first had to chop the wood, then hunt the game, spin the wool into cloth, sew the clothes, tan the hides, and—”

Laughing, she placed a hand over his mouth. “I get the picture. And I promise, I’ll never again call this situation primitive. But I’m not so sure that word wouldn’t apply to someone I know who actually seems to be thriving on all of this.”

He nodded as he carried the toast to the coffee table. “I think you’re right.” He filled their cups with steaming coffee, then sat down beside her and bit into his eggs. “I can’t say I liked the idea of having the power cut off. But being cut off from civilization isn’t all that bad. I thought at first I wouldn’t be able to stand not knowing what was going on in the world.” He gave her a sideways glance. “It’s the reporter in me. I’ll admit I’m a newsaholic. But the truth is, I think I needed this complete break from the outside world. Without all the interruptions and distractions, I’ve had plenty of time to think.”

“About what?” She broke off a piece of toast, spread it with strawberry preserves.

“About where I’ve been. And where I’m going.”

“Have you come to any decisions?”

He sipped his coffee. “Not so far. But I’ve certainly been able to work through a lot of things that
have been troubling me.” He studied her over the rim of his cup. “And right now, thanks to you, Hollywood, I’m feeling like I could take on the entire world. And win.”

She almost blushed. “Tell me about your world, Jace. The one you’ve been living in as a reporter.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think you want to know about some of the things I’ve seen. The wars, and bombings, and the misery of the people who’ve been forced to live through them.”

She realized he didn’t really want to talk about that part of his life. It was still too painful. “But you must have seen some warm, loving, moving events as well.”

He nodded and smiled. “Just when I’d begin to lose hope of ever seeing anything uplifting, I’d witness something that was so noble, so generous, it would bring me up short and remind me why I was there. I wasn’t supposed to cover only the sadness, but to report on the greatness of people, as well. Especially people under fire. That’s when they’re at their best and their worst.” He paused a moment, lost in thought. “There was a little girl. No more than six or seven. Long blond curls. Big sad eyes. She’d lost a leg in an earlier bombing, and used a stick for a crutch. Every day I’d see her hobbling through the town where I was reporting on the rebel activity. She’d duck behind buildings at the sound of gunfire, and scurry out of the way of the rebels’ trucks. But always she would cross the town square, and return hours later. One day I stopped her and asked her
about herself. She explained that she’d lost her father and mother, her older sister and two little brothers—all in the same bombing that cost her her leg. She was now living temporarily with a neighbor family who were good to her, even though they could barely afford to feed their own children. I asked her where she went everyday. And she said she was going to school. There was a woman who taught a few orphans across town, and this little girl went there faithfully. When I asked her why she would risk injury, even death, to go to school every day, she said simply, ‘Because I promised my mama before she died that I would not neglect my education.”’

He shook his head. “Months later, when I was in that hospital bed, fighting to walk, I used to think about the courage of that little girl. Some days it was the only thing that kept me trying to get back on my feet.”

Ciara swallowed the lump in her throat. “I wonder what happened to her.”

“She’s been adopted by a family in London.”

Her head came up. “How did she get to London?”

Jace shrugged. “I arranged to have her airlifted out of Bosnia before I left.”

“Oh, Jace.” Ciara brushed her lips over his cheek. “And you try to make yourself out to be such a tough guy.”

“Yeah.” His voice was gruff. “I’m really a pushover. Especially for long blond curls and big sad eyes. Just don’t let anybody else know my secret.”

“It’s safe with me.” Her gaze fell on a notebook,
half buried beneath the cushions of the sofa. “Is that mine?”

Jace picked it up, handed it to her. “Yeah. Your screenplay, Heartbeat.”

She arched a brow and looked at him with a quizzical expression. “How do you know the title?”

“I read it. I figured you wouldn’t mind, or you wouldn’t have left it lying there when you took off for your walk.”

She’d forgotten all about it. She got to her feet, feeling as if the cabin had suddenly become too warm.

“What’s wrong?” Jace stood and put a hand on her arm.

“Nothing. I just wasn’t ready to let anyone else read it yet. Especially someone who earns his living by writing.”

“Is that what’s worrying you?” He closed his fingers around her arm, holding her when she tried to pull away. “For what it’s worth, I thought it was fantastic.”

She turned. Studied his face a little too carefully. “Are you just saying that to make me feel better? Come on, Jace. I can take the truth. No matter how bad it is.”

“And I’m telling you the truth. It’s a fabulous script. I couldn’t put it down.”

For the longest time she merely stared at him. Then she said softly, “You mean it, don’t you? You really, really mean it?” Her eyes started to fill, and she had to blink hard.

He drew her close, as much for himself as for her. Seeing her emotions so close to the surface reminded him how much this meant to her. Despite all her success as an actress, this was an entirely new challenge, and she was feeling vulnerable. “Believe me. When I first met you, Hollywood, I never would have thought I’d be saying this. But you’re one hell of a gifted writer.”

“Oh, Jace.” She buried her face in his shoulder and held on until she managed to compose herself. Then, pushing away a little, she took a deep breath and gave him a radiant smile. “I want to celebrate. I saw some skis in a closet. Let’s clear away the dishes, then hike to the top of the hill and ski down.”

“Are you sure that’s what you’d like?” He glanced at the sofa. “If you’d rather stay in here where it’s warm, I could think of some way to celebrate, and get our exercise at the same time.”

“Yeah, I just bet you could.” She laughed, feeling happier than she could ever remember. There was a lightness around her heart that hadn’t been there in years. “Come on. I’ll wash. You dry.”

“The last time I saw this much snow was in Lake Tahoe.” Ciara paused at the top of the hill to catch her breath. She carried a pair of skis over her shoulder. “I was skiing in a celebrity charity event.”

“I suppose you’re called on to do a lot of those things.”

She nodded. “Too many to count. Certainly more than I can possibly accept. But I try to attend as many
as I can. It’s one of the best things about my business. I realize the importance of using celebrities’ names to raise money for good causes.”

“Are you a good skier?” Jace paused beside her and planted his skis in the snow.

“Pretty average. But I’ve taken enough lessons so that I don’t embarrass myself in public. How about you?”

He nodded. “There wasn’t a lot of time, with all the assignments I accepted. But whenever I could, I’d slip away to Switzerland or Germany. It’s some of the best skiing in the world. Have you ever skied the Alps?”

She shook her head. “It looks so incredibly beautiful in photographs. But there’s never been time between movies.”

“Yeah. Time. We never seem to have enough of it. At least not for the things we really want, do we?” He caught her hand in his and linked their fingers. “I’d love to show you the Swiss Alps. There’s a quaint little resort there. Nestled in the valley between the most majestic mountain peaks you’ll ever see. You’d swear you’ve stepped back in time. Feather beds tucked under snow-covered eaves. Hot toddies served by white-gloved waiters. Warm towels when you step from your bath. And late in the afternoon, just as the sun is going down, you can take a sleigh ride over a breathtaking mountain pass.”

“Oh, Jace. It sounds heavenly.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “You make me realize how much
I’ve missed in my life. And how much I still want to see and do.”

He nodded, growing pensive. “We always tell ourselves we’ll do all these special things later. But for some, later will never come.”

Ciara could see that he had gone somewhere in his mind. A dark place where she could never follow. She watched, silent and understanding, while he stared into the distance, lost in thought.

At length he shrugged off the mood and brightened. “Well, this may not be Switzerland. But it’s all we’ve got. So come on, Hollywood. What are we waiting for?”

He snapped on his skis, and she did the same. She slipped on a pair of sunglasses, and stuck her hands into mismatched mittens that she’d found in the back of the closet. Then she shoved off and started down the hill. Her hair, which she’d pulled into a ponytail, streamed out the back of her baseball cap like a streak of golden sunlight.

Jace shoved off, too, forging his own trail, until they were skiing side by side. He glanced over to see her laugh with delight. When they approached a line of trees, she veered right and he veered left, and for some time they were each alone, with only the sound of their skis cutting through the snow. Below the tree line, they came together again, smoothly skimming the unbroken snow, until Ciara lost her balance and took a tumble, landing in a drift.

With a look of concern Jace retrieved her ski and came to a sudden stop beside her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She yanked off her mittens and glasses, then accepted the ski from his hands. “The tip of my ski hit something. A boulder, I think.”

“But nothing’s broken?”

“Nothing but my pride.”

“Want to finish the run?”

“Of course I do. You don’t think I’d quit now, do you?” Her cheeks were as red as apples, her eyes bright with challenge. “In fact, if you’d like, we’ll race the rest of the way.”

“Suits me. What’s the prize for the winner?”

She gave it a moment’s thought. “Do you think the generator will work long enough for another hot bath?”

“I think that can be arranged.”

“Well, then, I think the loser should have to scrub the winner’s back. And then, while the winner is soaking up a very long, very hot bath, the loser can fix dinner.”

“Hmm. I like the sound of that. It’s been a long time since I had my back scrubbed.”

“Oh, you’re so confident. I like that in a man. But I hope you’re not too disappointed when you’re fixing dinner again tonight.” She stood and fastened her skis, then picked up her glasses and mittens. “We’ll go on the count of three.”

“Hurry and get those mittens on, Hollywood. I can’t wait for that back scrub.”

Minutes later they flashed down the hill in a blur of color.

“A little lower.” Jace closed his eyes and sighed with contentment. “Ah. Now that’s just about perfect.”

Behind him, Ciara knelt in the steamy water and moved the washcloth slowly over his back. Though she made all sorts of noise about hating to lose, the truth was, she was having the time of her life.

The tub was filled almost to overflowing. With each movement, water sloshed and threatened to spill over the edge. It was deliciously warm and fragrant—although she had lost the race, she’d won the right to use bubbles.

At first Jace had refused. “I think it’s only fair that the winner should decide what kind of a bath it’ll be.”

“I agree. But if you’ve never tried a bubble bath, how do you know if you’d like it or not?”