Sleigh Bells in the Snow (20 page)

“You need to keep it watered.”

Sophie stared at the tree, eyes wide. “We have decorations.”

“Sounds good.” Jackson checked the tree was secure. “Well, I’ll just be—”

“Stay for a drink.” The woman smiled at him. “Todd just opened champagne. It’s one of our traditions the night we get the tree.”

“I’ll take Charlie.” The girl held out her arms for her brother. “See that, Charlie? Your present is going underneath it. And mine. Only four more sleeps until Santa comes.”

Jackson was about to ask what she wanted Santa to bring when he caught sight of Kayla’s face.

The healthy pink in her cheeks had faded and her skin was as white as the snow that clung to the branches.

Too late, he remembered she hated Christmas—and this whole damn place shrieked Christmas.

Damn.

He’d been ticking another job off his list. He hadn’t thought about the implications for Kayla.

As Todd came through the door bearing champagne, she moved to the door. “I have to get back to work. Enjoy your tree and have a happy Christmas.”

Jackson stepped toward her. “Kayla—”

But she was gone, out through the door, as light-footed as one of the white-tailed deer that sometimes ventured close to Snow Crystal.

He wanted to follow her, but a glass of champagne was thrust into his hand and Todd raised his glass.

“To the charms of Snow Crystal. The best-kept secret on earth.”

Hoping that it wouldn’t be a secret for much longer, Jackson drank. By the time he extracted himself from the festive glow radiating from the Waterman family, there was no sign of Kayla.

* * *

“A
RE
YOU
SURE
about this?” Alice watched as Elizabeth picked up Maple’s bowl and rug. “What are you going to tell her?”

“The truth. That I need to go and help Élise in the kitchen and can’t leave Maple alone for that long.”

“I could watch her.”

“You have your book group.”

“I haven’t even read the book. The print was too small and the first page was depressing. I only go for the cake.” Alice studied her daughter-in-law over the top of her glasses. “You could give Maple to Jackson.”

“I’m giving her to Kayla.”

“She doesn’t seem like a dog person to me.” Alice unraveled a ball of yarn. “Doesn’t know what to do with the puppy. Steps over the animal like a pair of shoes left on the floor. Did you see the way she stroked her? Vertical pats.”

“She’s not used to dogs. She’ll work it out and working it out will be good for her. It’s only for a few hours.”

“You’re interfering.”

“Yes. Have you seen Maple’s toy?” Elizabeth crawled under the table and retrieved the toy bone while Maple wagged her tail happily. “There. You are just what Kayla needs.”

“Jackson may not agree when the animal does her business on his hardwood floors.”

“She’s not going to do that.” Elizabeth scooped Maple up and kissed her. “Tonight you need to be extra cute. I’ve never seen anyone as lonely as that poor girl, and you’re the family member designated to sort it out.”

Alice looked at her. “Jackson could do that.”

“He’s next on my list.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

K
AYLA
SAT
ON
the sofa in her robe, an untouched bowl of popcorn on the floor and Maple curled by her feet.

When Elizabeth had arrived at the door and asked her to keep the puppy for a few hours, she’d been horrified, but Jackson’s mother had been so excited at the prospect of helping Élise in the kitchen that Kayla hadn’t been able to find a way of saying no.

“I don’t know anything about dogs.”

“All she wants is company. Wish me luck! Élise can be terrifying when she’s cooking.” Buzzing with excitement, Elizabeth had thrust a few things into her arms and hurried back down the path with a wave, leaving Kayla with Maple and no idea what to do.

She and the puppy had stared at one another and then Maple had settled down on the rug in front of the fire and Kayla had got on with her evening while keeping a cautious eye on the dog.

She’d taken a long, indulgent shower, rinsed away pine needles and bits of the forest that clung to her. Other things hadn’t proved so easy to shift, like her mood. She’d stepped out of the shower lost in thought and almost slipped when she’d felt Maple licking her wet toes.

And now she was on the sofa staring gloomily at the puppy.

“I don’t know why you’re looking so pleased. I’m lousy company. You couldn’t have picked a worse place to spend a few hours.”

Maple rolled onto her back hopefully, and Kayla shook her head.

“I’m not a tactile person. I’m sure someone better qualified will rub your tummy later.”

Huge brown eyes stared at her mournfully.

“Oh, for—” She bent down and rubbed the puppy’s tummy gingerly, her fingers tangling with fur the color of coffee and whipped cream. “Don’t tell anyone how pathetic I am, will you? I’d be fired on the spot.” Tears jammed her throat and she felt a flash of horror and then remembered the only witness was the dog. For once, she didn’t have to hold it back.

“Honestly, it’s just one day of the year. And it always makes me feel this way. It seems as though you’re the only person in the world on your own.” She’d never felt lonelier in her life.

A tear fell and landed on the puppy.

Maple whimpered, rolled onto her front and stood up.

“Sit.” She managed to say the word through her clogged throat. “Sit. Oh, for—” The puppy sprang onto her lap and Kayla pressed herself into the sofa. “Down.
Down!
”

Maple ignored her and wagged her tail.

The dog felt warm. Solid.

“Honestly, I’m fine—” Kayla kept her hands in the air. “I’ve never been that big on hugs and— Oh—” The puppy snuggled down. “Right. I suppose you can stay there as long as you don’t pee on me. And if you tell them I cried, our relationship is over.” Slowly, gingerly, she lowered her hands to the puppy. The fur under her fingers was soft and springy, the eyes looking at her a warm caramel-brown.

Tears fell, slowly and steadily like the snow outside the window. “I never cry. This is your fault. You shouldn’t be so cute.”

She wished her phone would ring, but for once it was silent, and she knew it was because the people back in the office would be caught up in pre-Christmas madness.

So—” She continued to stroke the puppy. “I can’t work with you sitting there so I suppose this is the perfect time to watch a movie. I hope you like horror because that’s all I brought with me.”

She pressed the remote control and started watching the movie she’d set up earlier while Maple dozed in her lap.

The cabin was in darkness. The only light came from the moon reflecting off the snow and the flicker of the television as she listlessly watched the story unfold.

She was lost in the dark and the horror when she heard a noise.

Her screams mingled with those of the woman on the screen, and Maple sprang from her lap barking. Kayla leaped after her, spilling popcorn.

“Shit—sorry, cover your ears, Maple—”

The door to the cabin opened abruptly. “Kayla?” It was Jackson, concern in his voice as he strode across to her, his feet scrunching on popcorn. Maple was leaping and barking. “Why are you screaming? What the hell has happened? Maple, sit. Sit!”

Maple ignored him.

“
You
happened—for God’s sake, Jackson—” she put her palm to her chest, feeling her heart pounding “—you scared me half to death and you scared the puppy. I thought you were a-a—”

“A what? All I did was knock on the door—” His gaze slid to the TV and his eyebrows rose. “Seems to me you were scaring yourself to death.
The Shining?
That makes perfect sense. An acknowledged feel-good Christmas movie. I guess you’re going to follow that with
The Texas Chain Saw Massacre.
Every fir tree’s nightmare.”

Hand pressed to her chest, she forced herself to breathe. “I was just in the mood for it, that’s all.” Stooping, she scooped a shivering Maple into her arms and snuggled her close. “Shh. It’s all right. It’s just Jackson, arriving with his chain saw. Nothing to be scared about.”

“I might have to disagree with that.” He picked up the DVD box. “You were in the mood for Ultimate Horror? That must be one hell of a mood you’ve got going on there.”

“It was my Christmas gift to myself. At this time of year the only thing that’s showing on TV is movies with the word
miracle
in the title.” Her legs still wobbly, she sank back onto the sofa. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you wanted a meeting.”

His gaze drifted to her robe. “Not a meeting. I came to pick up Maple. Thought I’d bring you something to eat at the same time.”

Her heart rate finally slowed. For the first time she noticed the large box by the door. “Pizza?”

“Fully loaded, cooked fresh by Élise, who usually considers pizza beneath her, so you are now among the favored few. I was going to invite you to my barn for the evening but after you vanished I decided I’d bring dinner to you.”

“It was kind of her—of you—” she hugged Maple closer “—but I’m not dressed.”

“You have to be dressed to eat pizza? That’s a new one on me.”

“All right then, I’m not hungry.” Her voice rose. “If you don’t mind, I’d really appreciate an evening by myself. But—you can leave Maple.” She was shocked by how much she didn’t want him to take the puppy.

In usual Jackson style, he didn’t budge. “Why do you want an evening by yourself? So you can cry on your own?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Panic flickered at the edges of her composure. “I’ve had a shower and washed off my makeup. The light in here is just—”

“You’ve been crying, Kayla. What I’d like to know is why. Is it because of that damn family and their Christmas tree? Or something else?”

“I’ll drop Maple round to your mother in the morning.” Putting Maple down on the rug, she walked toward the door, assuming Jackson would follow.

He didn’t.

Jackson O’Neil was about as easy to manipulate as a solid lump of rock.

He strolled across the room and sat down on the sofa. Stretched out those long, muscular legs as if he was settling in for a long evening of entertainment. If he felt at all awkward that he might be intruding, it didn’t show.

Kayla felt a rush of frustration. “Jackson—”

“I’m not leaving.”

“But—”

“I’m partial to the occasional horror movie myself, although I generally prefer psychological thrillers to all that blood and guts and chopping that goes on in some films. So—” he tickled Maple with his toes “—are you going to tell me why you were crying or am I going to have to torture you to get your confession?”

Irritation mingled with something much, much more dangerous. “I found out Santa doesn’t exist.”

“He exists. I know it for sure because his reindeer left a hell of a mess on one of the trails last year. He also knocked a piece out of one of the chimneys. I blame my mother for leaving out too many cinnamon stars. By the time the guy had eaten them he was too fat to get back on his sleigh. Come and sit down and bring the pizza with you. We’ll finish the movie together.”

“I’m not in the mood for company.”

“Too bad, because I am. I’m nervous.” He was all power and strength. The least nervous-looking individual she’d ever encountered. “And given that you’re responsible, the least you can do is make that right.”

“I make you nervous?” She was willing to bet this man had never been nervous of anything in his life.

“You scared me with all that screaming—I need time to get my courage back before I walk home. I can’t be alone right now.”

“Yeah, right—” she eyed the muscles of his shoulders “—because you’re so fragile, obviously.”

“I’m scared of the dark, terrified of loose popcorn and frightened out of my wits by screaming women. Either you put some lights on right now or you’re going to have to hold my hand.” He rose to his feet and she took a step backward wishing, not for the first time, that Jackson O’Neil wasn’t so damn sure of himself.

But he didn’t approach her. Instead he scooped up Maple and the blanket and carried the puppy through to the bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar while Kayla watched in bemusement.

“What are you doing?”

“She’s too young to witness what we’re about to do.”

“We’re not about to do anything.” Her heart was pounding harder than when he’d emerged from the darkness. “This is
not
a good idea.”

“I think it’s the best idea either one of us has had in a long time.”

“You should go home, Jackson.”

“What I should do and what I often choose to do aren’t the same thing. Ask any one of the teachers I had growing up.” He was standing right in front of her now—lean, athletic and powerful.

She stared at the blue-black stubble that shadowed his jaw. And that proved to be a mistake because she just wanted to reach out and run her fingers over it. And she wanted to stand on tiptoe and press her face to his, feel that male roughness scrape the sensitive flesh of her cheek.

“You should go before we both do something stupid.” Her voice came out like a croak, and the corners of his mouth flickered into a smile.

“Go ahead. Do something stupid.”

Everything he said flustered her, and she wasn’t used to feeling flustered.

“I’d be using you,” she blurted out, “to fill this one night because I’m lonely. Do you really want to be used?”

“Hell, yes.” His laugh was deep and sexy. “How soon can you start?”

“You’re a client.”

“I don’t hear either of us talking about work right now.” His hand slid behind her head and into her hair, and his eyes were suddenly gentle. “So you’re lonely, Kayla Green?”

There was a long, pulsing silence.

“Yes.” It was a simple truth, but a truth she never admitted.

“Because it’s Christmas?”

“No. But it’s worse at Christmas. There’s nothing quite like being surrounded by family groups to remind a person they have no one. Not even someone to argue with or be irritated with.”

“I know people who will be happy to irritate the hell out of you. Anytime you want to spend time with them, just say the word.” His fingers were in her hair. His mouth close to hers. The gentleness had gone. His tone was rough and his eyes dark, the sexual chemistry so intense she couldn’t breathe. It pulled at her, melted low in her belly and fired her nerve endings.

“This would be a mistake.” She locked her hand in the front of his sweater, and his arm came around her waist.

“Mistakes are what make us human.” He spoke the words against her lips and then he was kissing her, his mouth hard and hungry, and she kissed him right back because he was all she wanted and needed. There was nothing in her head except this moment, and she slid her hands under his sweater, moaned as she felt the warmth of his skin and the ripple of male muscle under her palms.

“You feel good—” Frustrated by the barrier created by his clothing, she tugged, pulled, and he broke the kiss long enough to yank the sweater over his head along with the T-shirt he was wearing under it. They both staggered but he locked her against him again, and she slid her hands over his shoulders, feeling the hard swell and dip of muscle. “You’ve lifted a lot of logs in your time.”

“All part of the job.” With rough, impatient hands he parted her robe and inhaled. “If I’d known that was what you were wearing underneath there’s no way our conversation would have lasted as long as it did.”

She licked at his lips. “I’m not wearing anything.”

“That’s what I mean. Hell, Kayla—” With a groan, he backed her against the wall, trapping her between the smooth wood of the cabin and the hard heat of his body. And now, finally, she could see him properly. See the contours of those powerful shoulders, the dark curling hair that shadowed his chest, the swell of his biceps and the strength of his forearms as he pinned her there.

For a few indulgent seconds they just looked at each other.

She was breathing rapidly and so was he, his eyes so dark they no longer seemed blue.

“What happened to your underwear?” His voice was thickened and rough, loaded with the same tension that held her breathless.

“It got wet in the forest when that tree shook itself on me.”

The corner of his mouth flickered and he lifted his hand to her cheek. “You make me smile, Kayla Green.”

Her heart was pounding. “You make me smile, too.”

He lowered his head fractionally, just enough to drive her crazy with anticipation, and the feeling terrified her because she couldn’t ever remember feeling this way before.

Out of control.

He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Have I told you you’re beautiful?”

“No.” Her fingers bit into the warmth of his shoulder. “Are you going to kiss me again or am I going to have to force you?”

His smile was slow and sure. “Just taking my time.”

“How much time?” She could hardly breathe. “I need to know whether to take control or not.”

“You’re in a hurry?” His voice was rough and deliciously male. “Is there someplace you need to be?”

“No—” Her breathing hitched as she felt his hand on the base of her spine. “I’m just a person who likes to get things done.”

“I never would have guessed that about you. You always seem so laid-back and calm.” His hand was inside her robe and she felt the warmth of his palm on her bare skin, felt his hand linger on the dip of her waist and then lower to the curve of her hip. And his touch drove her crazy because she wanted this so badly—wanted to feel his hands on her, his mouth on her—and he was making her wait until she thought the waiting might drive her out of her mind.