Snowbound Cinderella (8 page)

Could she face a major life change again? She thought she was stronger now. But maybe she was only fooling herself. What if she risked it all—and lost? Who would look out for her mother and brothers then? They’d come to depend on her. How would they survive without her help?

She dropped her notebook on the table and hurried across the room to slip into her parka and boots. What she needed, right this minute, was a brisk walk to clear her mind.

When she yanked open the door, Jace was just coming up the porch with an armload of logs. He gave her a wide smile. “Now that’s what I call eager. I guess you missed me, didn’t you, Hollywood?” When he caught sight of her face, his smile faded. She was as close to tears as he’d yet seen her. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just need some air.”

He watched as she raced down the steps and headed toward the snow-covered hills. Then he nudged the door closed and deposited the logs on the hearth. After tending to the fire he hung his parka on a hook in the closet and kicked off his boots.

The last of the coffee was still simmering on the coals. He poured himself a cup, held a match to the tip of a fresh cigar, then noticed the notebook on the table. He picked it up, leafed through, and realized it was Ciara’s screenplay.

So this was what had occupied her time for the better part of the day. Maybe she was just unhappy with the way it was going. Maybe she’d begun to realize that writing was hard work, and she’d decided to give up the pipe dream and get back to reality. That could be why she’d run off, close to tears.

Intrigued, he settled himself on the sofa and began to read. Within minutes, he set aside the coffee and cigar, too fascinated to bother with even those minor distractions. He had no idea what he’d expected to find. Certainly not this. The characters were so alive, they nearly leapt off the page. The dialogue sizzled. And the setup from scene to scene flowed perfectly. It wasn’t just good—it was fabulous. He couldn’t stop now. He had to read to the end and see if she could actually sustain the suspense until the final scene.

Ciara climbed to the top of the hill before she paused for breath. When she finally stopped, she was amazed at how far she’d come. The cabin below was completely hidden beneath a canopy of snow-covered
trees. All that could be seen was the smoke from the chimney.

Eden Fortune had been right. This place was completely isolated. She could have been in a remote, primitive wilderness anywhere in the world. A glacier in Alaska. Above the timberline in Wyoming. There was no sound but the sighing of the wind. Hers were the only footprints in the snow. She sat down on a half-submerged boulder and lifted her head at the sound of a bird’s cry. High above, two crested cardinals happily feasted on red berries that clung to a branch. They were the only spots of color in the otherwise pristine countryside.

While she watched, a squirrel danced along the upper limb of the tree in search of his own berries. And off in the distance was a herd of about a dozen deer. The sight of them warmed her heart as nothing else could have. Though the unexpected blizzard had caught all of these creatures off guard, and had probably caused them more than a little discomfort, they’d adjusted, and survived.

She loved watching the animals. As a child growing up in coal-mining towns in Kentucky, she’d never had the luxury of appreciating nature like this. And, except for the rabbit her little brother had brought home one day, her family had never had a pet. It would have been one more expense for her already overburdened mother.

It occurred to Ciara that at this moment she was thoroughly content. Oh, it was true that the storm had changed her plans. Like the animals, she’d been forced to improvise. But despite the presence of Jace
and the temptation he presented, she’d found plenty of time to think. The only trouble was, she still wasn’t any closer to a decision. About her career. Or her future with Brendan. But at least she was enjoying this wonderful day, and the sight of all these creatures enjoying it with her.

With a sigh, she stared at the shadows marching in a line down the mountain. She had no idea of the time, but from the position of the sun, just beginning to sink below the line of trees, she figured she’d been gone for several hours. Time to head home if she wanted to make it back to the cabin before dusk.

By the time she’d trudged through the mounds of snow, she was thoroughly chilled, and eager for the warmth of the fire. She scraped snow from her boots, then let herself in.

Jace looked up from the kitchen table, where he was cutting something on a board. “I thought maybe you were walking back to California.”

She laughed. “I thought about it. But then I remembered our gin game. If I ducked out now, I’d never get my chance for revenge.”

“Good thinking.” He watched as she hung her parka and shook snow from her jeans. “I’ll bet a hot bath would really feel good right now.”

“Oh, why are you being so mean? It isn’t fair to tease me like that.” She gave a sigh of regret. “What I wouldn’t give for a long, hot bath.”

“What would you give, Hollywood?”

At the tone of his voice she gave him a sharp look. “Okay. You’ve got that cat-that-swallowed-the-canary-look.
What’s happened?” She brightened. “Has the power been restored?”

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

“I should have known. You were only tempting me.” Deflated, she turned away.

He watched her, letting the moment stretch out, before saying, “I managed to fix the generator. We can’t keep it running for long periods yet, but I was able to hook it up to the water heater.”

“You mean…?” She ran to the bathroom and tore open the door.

Inside, the room was as steamy as a sauna. The hot tub was filled almost to the top with hot water. Along one side of the tub was a cluster of scented candles, their soft glow reflected in the shimmering bathwater, their fragrance adding to the allure of the scene.

She turned. Jace was right behind her, watching her expression. “Is this for me?”

“All for you. I’ve already had my shower, thank you.”

“Oh, Jace.” She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him.

As she started to pull away, he dragged her back and muttered against her lips, “Hey, if I’d known you were going to be this grateful, I’d have heated buckets of snow over the fire yesterday and hauled every one of them in here myself.”

A thrill raced along her spine, and she held on to him for a minute more. Though he was still smiling, she could feel the tension humming through him. It was tempting to think she was the cause of it. A part of her wanted to draw out the moment. But a more
sensible part of her thought about the bath. As she started to pull away, he startled her by dragging her close and covering her mouth with his.

This time the kiss was neither easy nor friendly. Her smile faded as her breath hitched. His tongue darted between her lips, meeting hers, sending a shaft of heat straight to her core.

She could feel her blood pounding in her temples. Could feel her bones begin to melt as he changed the angle of the kiss and took it deeper.

She leaned into him, wanting to give more. And he took, feasting like a man who’d been starving.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he surfaced. With an effort, he pulled himself back from the edge, forced himself to lift his head a fraction. “Maybe I ought to join you in that tub.”

“Uh-uh.” Though she spoke quickly, she realized she didn’t really mean it. In fact, the thought of sharing a tub with this man had her pulse racing. “You said it was all mine. I intend to hold you to that.”

In defense she pulled away, dancing into her bedroom and gathering up an armload of clothes before hurrying back to the bathroom. “I’ll make dinner as soon as I’ve finished. I promise.”

“Take your time. I decided to make dinner myself.”

She shot him a suspicious look. “Why? Why are you suddenly being so thoughtful?”

“Maybe I just like the way you express your gratitude, Hollywood. I’ll expect even more of it when you’ve tasted my lemon chicken barbecue.”

“After giving me this wonderful surprise, you
could fix lemon chicken burned-to-a-crisp, and I wouldn’t complain.”

“Just don’t forget to be grateful.” With his thumbs in his pockets, Jace watched as the bathroom door closed behind her. Minutes later he grinned as he heard the splashing of water, following by her sighs and moans of pleasure.

“If you’re not careful, Hollywood,” he shouted, pounding on the door, “I might have to come in there just to see if you’re really alone in that tub. From the sounds I’m hearing, I’m beginning to suspect you’re filming a porno flick in there.”

“Leave me alone. Go cook your chicken, while I just wallow in this heavenly pleasure.”

She leaned back and closed her eyes. Laughter bubbled up in her throat, and then burst free. What would the tabloids be willing to pay for this bit of information? And how much of her glamorous movie-star image would be tarnished if the readers were to learn that Ciara Wilde had come wildly, gloriously unglued with ecstacy over something as simple as a hot bath?

Still, the thought of sharing this with Jace Lockhart was very tempting. He was unlike any man she’d ever known. A little too dangerous. A little too mysterious. Surprisingly generous. And far, far too clever.

He was getting to her, she realized. With every teasing joke, every surprising gesture, he was softening her up.

Careful, she warned herself. With Jace Lockhart, you could find yourself in way over your head.

J
ace looked up from the fire when the bathroom door opened. Ciara stood framed in the doorway, wearing a bulky terry robe, her hair wrapped in a towel. From the dreamy smile on her face he knew the bath had lifted her spirits considerably. Whatever had been bothering her before her sojourn into the snow, now seemed to have been washed away.

“It’s a good thing you came out of there.” He tried not to stare at the darkened cleft where her breasts strained against the fabric of her robe. “I was getting worried that you’d gone down the drain.”

“I feel like I could. I don’t think I have a bone left.”

“That relaxed, huh?”

She nodded. “It was such a surprise. Just the nicest gift you could have given me, Jace. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He grinned. “And if you’d like to show your appreciation again…”

She laughed. “Sorry. I’m not that grateful. I’ll just need a few minutes to dress. I don’t want to hold up dinner.”

“Take your time. The biscuits aren’t ready yet.”

“Biscuits?” She paused in the doorway of her room, and turned. “You’re making biscuits?”

In his best Julia Child falsetto he said, “I always have biscuits with my lemon chicken barbecue.”

“You’re just doing this to make me feel guilty because you’re making dinner instead of me, aren’t you?”

His lips curved. “Is it working?”

She shot him a sly smile. “No. But keep trying. One of these times it might work.” She nudged the door shut with her hip.

Jace turned his attention to the dinner. While he removed the pan of biscuits from the fire, he thought about the way Ciara had looked, all warm and steamy from the bath, tendrils of wet hair clinging to her neck. Though she’d taken pains to cover herself, there was no way to hide that lush body. The sight of her had him reacting like a randy schoolboy.

He paused a moment, staring into the flames, deep in thought. She had the kind of fresh, natural beauty that needed no embellishment. Without any makeup at all, her face was stunning. The more he got to know her, the more he realized that she wasn’t at all like the image she portrayed in films. There was nothing flighty or fluffy or silly about her. And she didn’t seem at all hung up on her looks. She was disciplined and determined, and devoted to her family. And now that he’d read her screenplay, he realized she had insight and wit and a fine mind to go along with all her natural assets.

He picked up a fork, turning the chicken. He’d been searching for flaws, he realized. Expecting, maybe even hoping, to find reasons to dislike her.
Instead, the more time he spent with her, the more he learned about her, the more he came to respect her.

“And the more I want you, dammit all, Hollywood.”

The words, spoken aloud in the silence of the room, caused him to react with a jerk. Grease splattered, burning his hand. He hardly noticed the pain.

Ciara poked her head out the door. “Did you say something, Jace?”

“Just talking to myself.”

“Okay.” She pulled the door shut.

He stared at the closed door. Until he’d put the thought into words, he hadn’t wanted to admit, even to himself, how much he wanted her. Now that he knew it was true, what was he going to do about it?

This was becoming a problem. No, he corrected.
She
was becoming a problem. He wasn’t thinking about wanting just anybody. This was a gorgeous movie star who probably had dozens of guys chasing after her. Hundreds. She didn’t need to get involved with some washed-up reporter who didn’t even know where he’d be going from here. Hadn’t she made it perfectly clear that first night that she despised people in his profession? In fact, he thought with a grin, that was too tame a word. She loathed reporters. All reporters.

Maybe that was one more reason why he was becoming obsessed about her. To prove to her that she was as wrong about reporters as he had been about actresses.

Or at least one actress in particular.

He arranged the biscuits in a basket, and speared the chicken onto a platter. Maybe he and Ciara had become a little less antagonistic since that first night, and a little more relaxed in each other’s company. But he’d be a fool to confuse that with anything that might lead to their becoming lovers.

But he wanted her. Knowing all that, he still wanted her. The need was gnawing at him, the tension building inside, wearing him down. It was all he thought about when he looked at her. How she’d felt in his arms. How she’d tasted. And how sweet it would be to make slow, lazy, passionate love with her all through the night.

He uncorked a bottle of wine and then filled the kettle and added ground coffee.

“Umm.” Ciara stepped from her room and glanced at the steaming platter. “Are you sure I’m in the right place?” She was wearing a plain gray sweatshirt over leggings, her hair damp and curling around a face still free of makeup. “I think I just stepped into a movie set. There’s the cozy fire.” She glanced at the coffee table, set for two. “The perfect dinner.” She turned to see Jace watching her. The hot, hungry look in his eyes had her pausing for just a beat. Then, to cover her feelings, she said with a laugh, “Ah, and the handsome leading man.”

“Your leading man had to leave. I’m his standin.” He crossed the room and poured two glasses of wine, handed one to her.

Their fingers brushed. Just the merest touch, but
the tingling was there. And the quick rush of heat.

She took a step back, breaking contact.

“Have you ever thought of acting, Jace?”

“Not since high school, when I was the ghost of Jacob Marley in
A Christmas Carol.
”

“Not much of a part.”

He grinned. Took a step closer. “I wasn’t much of an actor.”

“Neither was I in the beginning.” She could feel him watching her in that strange, quiet way he had. It gave her an odd little quiver in the pit of her stomach. But she refused to back up again. She’d show him she wasn’t intimidated by his nearness. “I had to learn everything. How to relax. How to forget myself and become the character.”

“Who are you playing now?”

She smiled. “Just myself.”

“You play her very well.”

“Thanks.” Without thinking, she touched his arm. “Need a hand with anything?” She felt his muscles tense.

“It’s all ready. Come on.” His tone was rougher than he’d intended. The mere touch of her had him tied up in knots. “Let’s just enjoy our meal.”

She took her place beside him on the sofa and sipped her wine, hoping it would calm her nerves. Just minutes ago she’d emerged from the bath feeling more relaxed than she had in days. But things were suddenly strained between them again. Only this time it was a different sort of tension. One she recognized instantly. He wasn’t being at all subtle about his intentions.

The only trouble was, she was busy fighting the same sort of intentions toward him.

She took a deep, calming breath when he lifted the platter and held it toward her. She picked up the fork and helped herself to a piece of chicken, then slathered honey on a biscuit, all the while aware that he was watching her.

She would keep the conversation light—if it killed her. “If this is tastier than my mama’s, you’re going to break her heart.” She bit, chewed, then gave an exaggerated sigh. “Poor Mama.”

He couldn’t help laughing. “Sorry to disappoint you. And your mama. The biscuits were in one of those tins in the box out in the shed. All I had to do was arrange them on a tray and heat them over the fire.”

“Oh.” She placed a hand on her heart in mock relief. “Mama will be so glad to hear that. She always made buttermilk biscuits from scratch. And she vowed nobody could match her talent in the kitchen.” Ciara took another bite. “Now, promise you’ll never let my mama know I said this, but the truth is, these store-bought biscuits come close.”

“You have my promise. Not a word.”

She licked away a drop of honey that clung to her lower lip. But when she looked up and saw the way Jace was staring at her, she went very still, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

His tone deepened. “How’s your chicken?”

“Wonderful.” She drew in a deep breath, then
slowly expelled it. “How’d you learn to cook like this? Especially over an open fire?”

“I’ve been in a lot of situations that were much more primitive than this. Trust me, when you’re hungry enough, you’ll eat whatever is available, in whatever manner necessary.” He topped off her wine, and their shoulders brushed. The tension between them thickened. “Where’d you go today?”

“To the top of the mountain.”

“So far? That was quite a workout.”

She nodded. “I needed it. I had a lot on my mind.” She moved the food around her plate, then suddenly pushed it aside and picked up her wine. Crossing to the fireplace, she stood staring into the flames. She couldn’t bear to be too close to him. He generated too much heat—more heat than the fire.

She cleared her throat. “There’s something about cold fresh air and solitude that puts your life in perspective. I took a good hard look at my life, and I’m not at all certain I liked what I saw.”

He frowned. “Why do you do that?”

Her head came up. She turned to stare at him. “Do what?” She had to struggle not to flinch at his dark look.

“Put yourself down that way. Your studio wouldn’t be chasing after another contract if you weren’t making them money.”

“Oh, I make them plenty of money.” Her voice took on an edge. “And I don’t have to act at all. All I have to do is take off my clothes. I’ve played the
same part so often, I could do it in my sleep. Bimbo in Vegas. Bimbo in Paris. Bimbo in Rio.”

His tone roughened. “You can’t really believe that.”

“Can’t I?” She lifted her chin. He saw her lower lip tremble before she turned away. “When you hear something often enough, you learn to say it first, before someone else beats you to it.”

He was across the room in quick strides. He touched a hand to her shoulder. “I’m not saying it.”

“You’re just being too polite. I saw how you looked at me that first night, when you realized who I was. You might not have said it aloud, but you were thinking, ‘Oh, yeah, Ciara Wilde. The blonde who does all those bikini movies.”’

“Okay. Maybe I did.” He kept his hand on her shoulder and could feel a ripple of tension humming through her. “But that was before I got to know you.”

“And now that you know me?” She stared into his dark eyes.

“I intend to get to know you a whole lot better than this, Hollywood.”

He felt her stiffen and pull away. “You won’t like what you find.”

His tone hardened. “There you go again. Putting yourself down.”

“I told you. It’s easier if I say it first. Then it doesn’t hurt as much when others laugh.” She lifted her glass and drank, wishing she could swallow this painful lump in her throat.

“I’m not laughing.”

“You thought the same as all the others when we met.”

“I told you. That was then. Now…” He took the glass from her hand and set it on the mantel. Then he turned her to face him. “Now I know you’re so much more than that sexy image on the screen.”

“You mean the real me isn’t very sexy?”

“You’re sexy as hell. And you know it.”

She struggled to ignore the tremors that rocketed through her. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I really am a good actress and this is all just an act.”

He shook his head. “I’ve had plenty of chances to watch you. How you deal with things falling apart. The lack of privacy. The lack of heat and electricity. The lack of hot water.” He brought his hands to her shoulders and began gently massaging the knot of tension. “You’ve managed to take it all in stride. That’s not acting.”

“That’s just a need to survive. It’s called…” She saw his gaze center on her mouth. Knew that he was going to kiss her. Felt her throat go dry a second before he lowered his face. “…desperation.”

He swallowed the word with a kiss that was so hot, so hungry, it rocked her back on her heels.

“No,” he whispered against her lips. “This, Hollywood, is pure desperation.”

This kiss wasn’t like before. His other kisses had been tentative, testing, tasting. Exploring uncharted territory. And purely spontaneous. But this was bold, possessive. And absolutely deliberate. Not so much
taking as demanding. A kiss that drained her, then filled her. And she gave without thinking. As eagerly as he took.

She couldn’t seem to catch her breath as she responded to the urgency of his kiss. Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt, pulling him to her. And then all she could do was cling.

The hands gripping her shoulders were almost bruising as he dragged her against him and plundered her mouth. She felt the rush of heat. The quick, jittery charge to the system as his mouth almost savagely moved over hers.

She knew better than to give in to this. It was madness. Nothing more than cabin fever. She knew nothing at all about Jace Lockhart, except the few things he’d been willing to share. And yet here she was, tempting herself with him. But what else could she do, when he was so good, so very good, at seduction?

Oh, and she had wanted this so desperately too. This rush of pure adrenaline, while that hard, muscled body tempted and aroused her.

She moaned as he changed the angle of the kiss, took it deeper. Her blood heated and pulsed, and her breathing became ragged as his hands—those strong, clever hands—began moving over her.

She knew she ought to fight him, but she was tired of holding back. Tired of trying to stay one step ahead of him. Now it seemed all she could do was flow with the feelings. And the feelings that were rushing through her system had her offering her lips with the same hunger as his.

Arguments crowded her mind. All of them negative. What did she know about this man? About his past? And what did he know about her, except what he’d read? She was playing a dangerous game. And he could very well be playing her for a fool.

For the space of a moment she felt a flash of fear. She drew away a little. “We can’t…do this.”

“Why not?” His big hands framed her face and he stared down at her, while his thumbs traced the outline of her lips. “There’s no denying what’s between us. It’s been there from the beginning.”