Snowbound Cinderella (11 page)

“I want a simple, manly bath. Plain old soap and water. I have no intention of smelling like a French—” He stopped and burst into laughter at the look on her face. “You know what, Hollywood? You can pout better than anyone I’ve ever known.” He’d kissed her lips, then stepped back. “Okay. We’ll try it your way. Maybe a bubble bath won’t be so bad.”

With a squeal of delight she’d poured a generous supply of liquid into the tub, and turned the taps on as high as they’d go. Now they were practically drowning in bubbles.

She caught a handful and smeared them over his shoulders before touching her lips to the back of his neck. “Now, aren’t you glad you gave in? There’s nothing like a bubble bath, is there?”

“Especially when it’s shared by two. Lower.”

She moved the washcloth down his back, and he gave another sigh.

Ciara studied the hard muscles of his back, the ripple along his upper arms and shoulders. “Beautiful,” she whispered. “Absolutely beautiful.”

“What is?”

“Your body.”

“Uh-huh. You’re just trying to distract me so I’ll forget about the back scrub. Lower.”

She moved the washcloth lower, and without thinking, pressed herself against him and brushed her lips over his warm, wet flesh.

His voice was gruff. “You’re doing it again. No fair taking advantage of me like that, Hollywood.”

“Like what?”

“Pressing that naked body to mine. You know what it does to my willpower.”

“What does it do?”

“It makes me want to do this.” He turned and drew her into the circle of his arms, sending water spilling over the rim of the tub.

She giggled. “Jace, look what you’re doing.”

“Yeah.” He shot her a grin and leaned back, dragging her on top of him. The water sloshed, spilling everywhere. But neither of them noticed as he pulled her closer—close enough for their mouths to mate.

“I know I promised you a soft bed,” he murmured against her lips. “And I really intend to keep that promise. But if you don’t mind—” his hands began
exploring her body “—maybe we could get a head start.”

She sighed as his hands moved over her. “I don’t mind. But it’s hard to give a back scrub when your ‘client’ is lying on his back.”

“Yeah. You seem to have distracted me again, Hollywood.”

She gasped as he took one slick nipple into his mouth…and slowly began to drive her mad.

He saw the way her eyes suddenly glazed with passion. It gave him the most erotic feeling. His hands tightened as he drew her to him until they were completely joined.

“I think we’ll have to put off that bed until later. What I have in mind just can’t wait.”

“Neither can…”

Her words trailed off as he swept her away to paradise.

“Is that pizza I smell?” Jace climbed down from the loft and breathed in the fragrance of cheese and spices.

“I found it in the box of frozen food out in the shed.” Ciara turned from the fire, where she was just removing the round tray from the hot coals. She had pulled on a turtleneck and jeans, and had left her damp hair to fall into soft curls around her face. “I hope you don’t mind. I know it’s not as fancy as some of the dishes you’ve prepared, but since our wager didn’t stipulate what the loser had to fix for dinner…”

“I’m crazy about pizza. Never could get it in those
small out-of-the-way places overseas. Just smelling it makes me drool.” He tugged on one of her curls and kissed her cheek. “Almost as much as smelling
you
makes me drool.” He breathed in the scent of her. “What is that perfume you wear?”

“It’s called soap and water.” She laughed, gave his arm a shove. “Make yourself useful. You can open that bottle of Chianti I found.”

Minutes later he was pouring red wine, while she cut the pizza and served it onto plates. Jace sipped his wine and leaned back with a sigh of contentment. “Wine, pizza and a beautiful woman. I just don’t think it gets any better.”

She studied him. He wore jeans and a fisherman’s knit sweater. Beads of water glistened in his hair. He looked relaxed and content. Exactly, she realized, the way she felt. More content than at any time since she’d climbed into her car, determined to escape the media circus.

He closed a hand over hers. “What’re you smiling about, Hollywood?”

She shook her head. “I’m just thinking what a wonderful surprise this weekend has turned out to be.”

“Yeah. For me too.”

“It should have been a disaster. An unexpected storm. No power. No way to leave.” She turned their hands over, studying their linked fingers. “And two very different people who were each desperate to be left alone.”

“We were, weren’t we? And look at us now.”

She nodded. “Sipping wine. Eating pizza. Actually enjoying each other’s company.”

He shot her a meaningful look. “And looking forward to actually using a bed tonight.”

She shook her head. “I should have known you’d find a way to get back to that. And I thought you were fixated on
food.
”

“That comes in a close second.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her lips. “But my number-one fixation is you, Hollywood.”

He suddenly caught her hand and dragged her to her feet. “Come on. Let’s take the pizza and wine with us.”

“With us? Where are we going?”

“I’ve just thought of a way to have it all.” He winked, causing her heart to do somersaults. “We’ll eat in bed.”

“T
ell me about your family, Jace.”

They were lying in the big bed, sipping the last of the wine, and sharing a piece of cold pizza. The bedclothes were tangled, and they were both pleasantly sated.

“Why?”

“Because I want to know what you were like as a boy. How you grew up. What you dreamed of doing.”

He shrugged, uncomfortable talking about himself. “My family started out on a hundred-thousand-acre ranch in Texas.”

Ciara’s eyes widened. She swallowed her pizza, then finally managed to say, “A hundred thousand acres? Jace, that’s bigger than my little town, and the town next to it, and the towns on either side, and probably half the state of Kentucky all mixed together.”

He laughed. “Maybe not that big. But a hundred thousand acres can mean a lot of freedom for a little kid. By the time I was old enough to walk, I was riding horses. I still love to ride. But ranching wasn’t for me. It appealed more to my brother, Clint.”

Ciara saw his quick frown.

“Are you two close?”

He shook his head. “We never were. I was closer to my sisters— Janine, who’s dead now, and Mary Ellen. But my brother Clint was a lot of things I didn’t like. A bully. And a liar. I suppose that’s why I deliberately chose to be as different from him as I could. So I lost myself in books, like my father.”

“What did your father do?”

Jace smiled. “He was a lawyer. He wasn’t much of a rancher, but he was a damn fine lawyer. I suppose he hoped one of his sons would follow him into law. But it held no interest for me.”

“And so you went into journalism.”

He nodded. “It’s been a good life.” He linked his hands under his head and stared at the ceiling. “And I’ve had a chance to see all those places I’d read about in books.”

“Are you—” the question nearly stuck in her throat, but she forced herself to say the words “—planning on going back?”

He shrugged. “That’s the sixty-four-thousanddollar question. And I don’t have an answer yet.” He turned to her. “Your turn. Tell me about your brothers.”

Even though she realized he’d once again smoothly changed the subject, she didn’t mind. She regaled him with stories about how she’d coaxed her little brothers into acting in plays she wrote, dressing them in silly costumes she made out of cast-off paper and rags.

“We once tied my brother Michael to the clothesline and had him fly like Peter Pan. My little brother
David was Tinkerbell. You should have heard my mother when she came home and found her clothes pole broken, and the line snapped in two.”

Jace was laughing so hard, he nearly fell out of bed. “Why didn’t you ever cast yourself as the star?”

“You don’t think I wanted to be hooked up to a clothesline, do you? Besides, I always had to be in charge. So I was the writer and director. That way, my poor brothers had to take orders from me.”

“Pretty smart, Hollywood.”

“Yeah, that’s me. Smart.” She set her wineglass aside and stretched out beside him. “I wish I was smart enough to know what to do about my agent and my studio and the new contract and…things.” She couldn’t bring herself to speak of Brendan. He seemed part of another world. A world so far removed from this simple cabin that she could almost convince herself it didn’t exist.

“You’ll figure it out.”

She sighed. “Or I’ll make a mess of everything and have to live with it.”

“Hey.” He leaned up on one elbow and touched his lips to hers. “Remember what I said. You’re a smart woman. You’ve come this far. That’s no small accomplishment.”

“For a girl from the Kentucky coal-mining towns.”

“For anyone. There are plenty of actors with college degrees who wish they could be where you are in your profession. And don’t you forget it. There’s
no reason why you can’t have whatever you want out of life.”

She shook her head. “It’s funny. I suppose because I was forced to leave school at sixteen, I’ve always thought other people were smarter than me. Even though I read a lot, travel and meet a lot of interesting people, I’ve always deferred to others because of that lack of education. But I’m beginning to realize that it isn’t just schooling that makes a person smart. In fact, all the education in the world can’t make some people smart.”

“That’s right. And remember this—from what I’ve read in your screenplay, you have something even better than that sharp brain of yours, Hollywood.”

“And what would that be?”

“Sensitivity. Intuition. And a real insight into people and what makes them tick.”

She squeezed his hand. “I think I’m going to keep you around. You’re very good for my ego.”

“Yeah.” He dragged her close and kissed the top of her head. “And if I keep on pumping up that ego, in no time at all you won’t even be able to get this big head through that doorway over there.” He lay back. “Have you come to any decisions while you’ve been here?”

“Not many. At least not the important ones.” Her lips curved into a smile. “You know what I thought about yesterday while I was walking alone in the snow?”

“What?”

“That in my whole life, I’ve never had a pet. Not
a dog, or a cat, or even a goldfish. My little brother David brought home a bunny once. But that doesn’t count, because my mother made him turn it loose the next day.”

He stared at her. “Now that’s really important.”

She chuckled.

“So, Hollywood? What’s your point?”

“You just said I could have whatever I want out of life. And I’ve decided that when I go back home I’m getting a dog. For starters, anyway. Then I may get a cat to keep him company.”

“A dog. And maybe a cat.” He grinned. “That’s a pretty big commitment. Especially for somebody with a busy career. Remember, no matter how busy you get, a pet will depend on you for everything. Food. Shelter. Exercise, even in the rain.”

She nodded. “But in return, a pet will love me. He won’t care what I look like, or how much money I make, or the size of my bustline or my ego. He’ll just love me. Unconditionally.”

“Yeah. There’s that.” It was, he realized, what everyone was seeking in life. Someone, or something, to love them forever, regardless of who or what they were. Wasn’t it one of the things that had been playing around the edges of his mind lately? “I think, to celebrate this momentous decision of yours, we ought to do something special.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “What do you have in mind?”

He scooped her up and started out of the room.
“We’ve tried everything else in this cabin. I think it’s time we made mad, passionate love in the loft.”

Ciara awoke and lay a minute, struggling to remember where she was. A glance at the skylight told her that it was still dark, though there was the faintest smudge of dawn light tinting the inky sky.

A slow smile softened her eyes and curved her mouth as she glanced at Jace, tangled in the bed linens, asleep beside her. He was such a surprise. Smart and funny. But a dark undercurrent. He was so knowledgeable about the world. He’d been to so many places, had done so many fascinating things, had tasted so much of life. And had endured his share of sorrow. But he’d survived. And despite everything, he’d retained his sense of humor.

Best of all, he was an amazingly considerate lover. He made her feel special. He had a gift for making her believe in herself. He would never know how wonderful it was to rediscover her self-esteem. It had been at its lowest ebb when she’d first arrived at this deserted cabin. Thanks to Jace, she was almost beginning to believe that she could do whatever she set her mind to. That she could become anything she wanted.

In this man’s arms, she felt safe, protected from any harm. With Jace she felt as if she’d…come home. Overcome with tenderness, she brushed the hair from his eyes and pressed her lips to his temple.

His eyes snapped open. His voice was rough with sleep. “Now what’s that for?”

“For being so sweet.”

“Don’t say that too loudly. I’d hate to have you ruin my reputation as a tough guy.”

“So that’s why you resisted the bubble bath.”

“Yeah. Talk about an opportunity for blackmail. I can see the headlines: War correspondent, bombing survivor Jace Lockhart drowns in bubbles.”

“I wouldn’t let you drown. I’d revive you with mouth-to-mouth.”

He grinned. “How about some of that now?”

“Only if you’re drowning.”

“I am.” It was true, he realized. He was awash in such confusing feelings for this woman. There was just something about her. Something sweet and vulnerable, even though he knew she was also strong and disciplined. Something that tugged at his heart, and made him want to protect her from all harm. Something so sincere about her that he was starting to believe in happy endings and forever-after.

Dangerous thoughts, he realized. But the truth was, with Ciara he had learned, too late, that she wasn’t the type he could love and walk away from. The more he had, the more he wanted. Not just the pleasure she gave him. Not just the physical satisfaction. There was something deeper here. Something that was beginning to trouble him. Since that first time they’d made love, he hadn’t had a single nightmare. It was as though she had somehow healed his mind and heart and soul, and driven away all his demons. With her he had found a sense of peace.

As impossible as he knew it to be, he was actually starting to think about a future with her.

He pulled her down and kissed her until they were both breathless. When they came up for air he whispered against her lips, “Thanks. I needed that.” He glanced up at the skylight overhead. “It’s almost morning. No point in going back to sleep. What say we try a little more mouth-to-mouth?”

“I like your ideas, Mr. Lockhart.”

They were both laughing as they came together and began to kiss, but they were interrupted by a loud roaring noise in the distance. A noise that seemed to be coming closer.

Alarmed, Ciara laid a hand on Jace’s arm. “What in the world is that?”

She saw his sudden frown. Her heart began to thunder. “Jace, what is it?”

His voice sounded subdued in the predawn darkness. Or was that the rough edge of frustration she heard in his tone? “If I’m not mistaken, it’s the sound of snowplows.”

Ciara stood beneath the skylight, watching as morning light slowly spread across the sky. Neither she nor Jace had been able to fall back to sleep.

Now, while Jace hooked up the generator in preparation for their morning shower, she peered out the frost-covered panes, wondering how far away the plows were, and how long it would take them to reach the cabin.

Who would have thought she’d feel like this? Just
days ago she believed she’d go mad at the thought of being cooped up with a reporter in one small cabin. And now, the very thought of having to leave Jace was filling her with a new sort of dread.

For these few precious days she’d been in a sort of limbo, removed from the realities of her life, and living a dream. A wonderful, romantic dream with a man who had become a dream lover. Now it was about to come to a screeching halt, and she would have to face the very things that had driven her to flee in the first place.

“All set.” Jace’s voice floated up to the loft. “You should have hot water in a half hour. I’m going to start the coffee.”

“All right.” She looked around at Jace’s things, still spilling out of his carryall. Her own things had been neatly hung in the closet downstairs, or folded into drawers. It seemed a mocking reminder of the differences in their lives. Even though she’d only planned on being here for a weekend, she’d had the need for some sort of permanence. But Jace was a rolling stone. His entire adult life had been spent living out of a suitcase. In the blink of an eye he could be packed and off on another adventure, without a backward glance.

This weekend would be no different. He would leave here without giving it another thought—except the occasional memory of a pleasant diversion. He would return, undismayed, to his former life.

It wasn’t going to be quite so easy for her. The thought of leaving Jace was already causing a bit too
much discomfort. In fact, she couldn’t bear to think about it.

She took a deep breath and pasted a smile on her face before heading down the stairs.

Jace looked up from the fire. “Let’s take a walk after breakfast.”

“Okay. Where to?”

“We’ll climb to the top of the hill, and see if we can spot the plows.”

“When do you think they’ll make it here?”

He shrugged. “It could take all day. They’ve got a ton of snow to remove.”

A day. Her heart felt lighter. As though she’d suddenly been given a reprieve.

She became aware of the fact that she was ravenous. “How about some scrambled eggs?”

“Sounds good. I’ll make the toast.”

As they worked together side by side, Ciara thought how easily they’d slipped into a routine. As though they’d been doing this for a lifetime.

“I found some new jelly. Wild blackberry. Try this.” Jace lifted a spoon to her lips.

She tasted. Smiled. “Umm. That’s great.”

“I thought you’d like it. I’ll set some out.”

He set the table while she placed the skillet of egg mixture over the fire and began to stir.

Beside her, Jace turned the toast and gave her an admiring glance. “I’ve changed my mind about the French maid uniform. I think I prefer you in that football jersey.”

She grinned. “I’m glad to see we’re making progress.
But I’ve been thinking that if you decide not to go back to your foreign assignments, you might want to sign on as
my
cook.”

“I might be tempted. But you’d have to tell me what my—” he arched a brow and shot her a mock leer “—other duties would be.”

“No more than you’d have expected of me.”

“That much, hmm? Why, Hollywood, what an evil mind you have.”

“It takes one to know one.” She lifted the skillet from the hot coals and filled their plates. “And there’s a bonus. You wouldn’t have to wear a uniform.”

“I wouldn’t?”

“No.” She sat down and picked up her fork. “In fact, with that body of yours, I wouldn’t even complain if you wore nothing at all.”

His laughter rumbled up from deep inside and spilled out in a roar. When he could find his voice he said, “What a sexist remark, Ms. Wilde.”