Читать книгу Snowbound Cinderella - Ruth Langan, Ruth Ryan Langan - Страница 11

Ciara huddled under the blankets and listened to the howling of the wind outside the cabin. She’d slept badly. She wanted to blame it on the storm, but the truth was, the fault really lay with the man asleep in the loft. Jace Lockhart. She despised reporters. All of them. But especially those arrogant snobs who thought themselves above the people they preyed upon. They were the worst kind of all. They held themselves above the fray, while selling out anyone they thought beneath them.

She’d seen the look in his eyes when he’d finally figured out who she was. He considered her lower than the characters she portrayed in her movies. Not that she was particularly proud of all the parts she’d played. But she was an actress, after all. She was playing a role, not living it. The trouble was, some people couldn’t tell the difference. They expected all actors to behave exactly as their characters did.

She shoved hair out of her eyes and sat up. Now that Jace Lockhart knew who she was, he’d figure a way to use this situation to his advantage. Ambitious reporters like him always did. She could already see the TV news filled with all sorts of unflattering photos of her in the cabin, while news anchors led off with teasers such as “Distraught actress sheds her clothes and her dignity.” Or maybe he’d try to seduce her, so that the story would begin “While fiancé frets, actress seeks solace in another man’s arms—two weeks before the wedding!”

She tossed aside the blanket and climbed out of bed. At least she was wise to him. She knew all the tricks of his despicable trade. She’d learned the hard way. She was going to see to it that he didn’t unearth a single juicy fact that he could twist into a sordid news piece. She’d show Jace Lockhart that she could be as closemouthed and mysterious as he’d been last night.

That air of mystery about him was intriguing. Where had he been, and what had he been involved in these past years? What had happened to make him so reluctant to talk about himself? How had he gotten that scar on his right cheek? Maybe she’d just unearth a few juicy details about his past. That way she’d have some ammunition if he decided to attack her in the media.

She slipped into jeans and a T-shirt and tied her hair back into a ponytail. Shivering, she pulled on a flannel shirt for warmth, then crossed to the window and peered out. Her heart fell. The snow had drifted up over the porch, and was still falling. It appeared that, like it or not, she would be stuck here for another day with the smug, superior Jace Lockhart.

With a feeling of dread she opened her bedroom door. It was warmer out here, and she noticed the logs burning in the fireplace. Jace must have fed the fire before returning to his bed. She glanced toward the loft, but couldn’t see a thing over the railing.

Grateful for the time alone, she padded to the kitchen and started a fresh pot of coffee, then rummaged through the cupboard until she located a box of cereal. She was just filling a bowl when the door opened and Jace stomped in, carrying an armload of logs.

The sight of him, muscles straining under the weight of his burden, snow dusting his hair, gave her a jolt. She knew dozens of stars in Hollywood who worked out with personal trainers. Not one of them could hold a candle to this man, who looked as rugged and comfortable as though he did this every day.

She watched as he deposited the logs on the hearth. “I thought you were still asleep in the loft.”

“Couldn’t sleep. Too cold in here.” He tossed another log on the fire, then straightened and turned, wiping his hands on his jeans. “I figured I’d better bring in a supply before the entire pile was covered with snow.”

She stared beyond him to where snowflakes drifted past the window. “How bad is it?”

He shrugged. “Bad enough that the power’s out. A line probably snapped under the weight of all that snow.”

She glanced toward the coffeepot and realized it was making no sound. “No power? Now what’ll we do?”

“Nothing we can do but wait out the storm. As long as the supply of logs holds out, we’ll be warm enough.”

And stuck, she thought. Stuck together in one small cabin, with no chance of escape. And no hope for any privacy.

She opened the refrigerator and reached for the milk. It was still cold. She started to pour some into the bowl. “What’ll we do about the food in here? Think it’ll spoil?”

“I’ll carry it out back to the shed. That’ll keep it cold and safe from animals.”

“Animals?” She paused to glance at him. “What kind of animals?”

“Raccoons. Deer. Their food supplies will be covered by too much snow. They’ll turn to scavenging.”

“You don’t think there are any…bear in these woods?”

The look in her eyes made the temptation too much to resist. “I guess they’ll be hungry, too.”

“Could they…break down the door?”

“I suppose so. Bears are pretty determined when they smell food.” He glanced toward the stairs. “I think I’ll be safe enough up there in the loft. But since you hogged the master suite on the main floor, you’d probably be wise to brace something heavy against your door when you go to bed tonight, Hollywood.”

At that precise moment the wind gusted, sending the door slamming open. She gave a yelp and spun around, eyes wide and terrified.

Seeing nothing but the snow, she turned back and caught sight of his quick, dangerous grin. “That wasn’t funny.”

“Sorry.” He tried to sound contrite. But she could see the smile still tugging at the corners of his lips. “I didn’t plan it, but the timing was perfect.”

She muttered a couple of unflattering things under her breath as he crossed the room and closed the door, latching it against the tug of the wind.

She turned away and began searching for a spoon. “I must have sounded pretty foolish.”

She nearly jumped when he put a hand to her shoulder. His voice was so near, she could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck. “It’s the storm, Hollywood. It’s bound to get to you.”

“Yeah.” Even though the nickname irritated her, she couldn’t seem to catch her breath, knowing he was standing so close. And she was afraid to turn around to face him. With her back to him she asked, “Want some cereal?”

Was she offering a truce of sorts? He wasn’t certain, but he figured he might as well grasp at any straw. “Sure. Thanks. I guess we’re going to have to do all of our cooking over the fire now. I saw a grate as well as an aluminum coffeepot for camping in the closet. We can make good use of both of those.”

He walked to the closet to retrieve the items. When he returned, he shifted beside her, his arm brushing hers as he filled the coffeepot with water. He crossed the room, placed the grate on the fire and arranged the pot in one corner of the fireplace, over glowing coals. In no time the water was boiling. He added ground beans, and within minutes the cabin was perfumed with the wonderful fragrance of coffee.

Ciara carried the bowls of cereal to the coffee table, while Jace filled two mugs.

He set one in front of her and said, “Just the way you like it. With a pinch of sugar.”

She was surprised, and more than a little pleased, that he’d remembered. In all the time that she and her fiancé Brendan had been together, he had never noticed how she liked her coffee. In fact, she’d never seen him fix or fetch anything for himself. He had employees to see to his every need. She couldn’t imagine him hauling firewood, or settling for a bed in the loft, or figuring out how to preserve their food once the power went out. In fact, she couldn’t imagine Brendan Swift accepting a situation like this without throwing a tantrum.

She sipped, closed her eyes and sighed over the pure pleasure of hot fresh coffee. “I guess being snowbound won’t be so bad, as long as we don’t run out of logs or coffee.”

He chuckled. “If we run out of logs we can burn the furniture to stay warm. But I’m a man who has to have his coffee in the morning. So if we run out of that, watch out.”

She couldn’t help laughing.

He grinned back and found himself beginning to relax. The thought of being trapped in this cabin with a Hollywood star with an oversize ego had kept him up most of the night. But Ciara was showing a side he hadn’t anticipated. She’d accepted this situation with grace. She had a refreshing sense of humor, and was even able to laugh at herself. Maybe, just maybe, they could weather this storm without conflict.

They ate in companionable silence, watching the firelight flicker and dance with each gust of wind that roared down the chimney.

“How long do you think it will take before the roads are passable?” she asked.

Jace shrugged. “We have to wait for the snow to stop first. I doubt they’ll bother to send road crews to plow until the storm has blown over completely. We’ll just have to hope that once that happens, the spring sunshine does its job on the layer of ice.” He shot her a sideways glance. “I’ll bet you didn’t think, when you left sunny California, that you’d be spending your weekend in a blizzard.”

She laughed. “I guess I won’t be wearing that bikini I packed.”

He quirked a brow. “Listen, Hollywood. If it’ll make you feel more at home, you can wear it around the cabin. And I promise you, you won’t hear a word of complaint from me.”

“That’s really noble of you, but I’m sorry. I’m not working now.” She picked up their empty bowls and headed toward the sink. “I only wear that uniform when I’m on the job.”

“Tough working conditions.” He topped off their cups and carried them to the kitchen. “How’d you get started acting?”

She turned and accepted the cup from him, and was disconcerted to find him staring directly into her eyes. A most uncomfortable feeling, especially since his were deep brown, with a soulful look that did strange things to her heart.

She decided to try to shock him. It was the least she could do to pay him back for that bear scare. “I stripped for the producer.” She lifted the cup and took a long, deep drink, satisfied by the lift of his brows. “He liked what he saw, and said the part was mine.” There, she thought. That ought to fix him. “How’d you become a reporter?”

Without missing a beat he said, “I stripped for the network producer. She didn’t like what she saw and sent me to Bosnia.”

Ciara laughed so hard she nearly choked on her coffee. Jace laughed just as hard.

“Okay,” she muttered, sticking out her hand. “I think that makes us even.”

“For now.” He accepted her handshake and absorbed a sudden jolt to his system. There was definitely something about touching her that was downright dangerous. And he knew plenty about danger.

He crossed to the door and pulled on a parka. “I’m going to gather more firewood. And check the shed for a generator.”

“A generator?”

“In case this storm decides to hang around. It’ll give us enough juice to heat the water and keep the pipes from freezing.”

When he let himself out, Ciara carried her cup to the fire and stood staring thoughtfully into the flames. It occurred to her that if Jace hadn’t intruded on her privacy, she would be facing this storm alone. The terror she’d felt last night when she’d thought a stranger was breaking into the cabin would be nothing compared to the terror she’d be experiencing right now if she were dealing with this on her own.

She had come here thinking she’d find peace and solitude in the rugged mountains. Then she’d found herself fighting off an intruder. She’d had her moment of panic, especially when he’d overpowered her and wrestled the rifle from her hands. But within minutes she’d been reassured that he wasn’t here to do her physical harm. Being trapped in a sudden spring blizzard, alone and unable to go for help, would have left her terrified. She probably would have been pacing the floor by now, consumed with fear and praying for a road crew to rescue her.

For some strange reason she felt safe with Jace here to help her deal with the problems. He had the look of a survivor. There was a toughness about him. And an aura of danger and independence. Wherever he’d spent the past years, she’d be willing to bet it wasn’t someplace snug and safe.

Still, she didn’t intend to let down her guard. There would be not one word spoken about Brendan, the wedding in two weeks that she’d run from, or her future plans that could be revealed later to the media. She had no intention of forgetting the fact that Jace Lockhart—soulful eyes aside—was a reporter.

After heating water in the kettle over the fire, she washed the dishes and tidied the kitchen. She was just finishing when Jace returned, carrying another armful of logs.

“The snow’s letting up.” He nudged the door shut with his hip and walked to the fireplace, where he deposited the firewood.

“Did you find a generator?”

“Yeah. Looks pretty old and rusty, but I’ll test it later to see if it works. Even if it doesn’t, there’s enough wood to keep us warm.” He added another log to the fire. “I spotted your red convertible out in the shed, Hollywood. It suits you. But it’ll be pretty useless in all this snow.”

She winced, knowing Jace was right. The little foreign sports car wouldn’t make it around the first bend in a road covered with ice and snow.

Jace opened the door, retrieving several empty boxes. “I found these in the shed. We can put the perishable food in them. There’s a shelf high enough to keep them out of the reach of most animals.”

She started removing some food from the refrigerator. “Except the bears.”

He joined her and gave a quick smile. “Ah, those bears. Clever beasts.”

Now why did her heart have to do that sudden free fall whenever he got too near? She gathered up the carton of milk and turned, bumping into his chest. Her fingers fumbled and she dropped it. It was only Jace’s quick reflexes that kept it from hitting the floor. And all the while, he kept his gaze locked on hers.

“All this talk about bears is going to give me nightmares tonight.” She knew she was babbling, but she needed to say something to cover her awkwardness.

“Do you get them often?” He packed the carton in the box and waited while she rummaged about, locating cheese and eggs.

She nodded, sobering suddenly. “Often enough to miss a lot of sleep.”

“You’re not alone.”

“You too?” She looked up. The laughter was gone from his eyes. In its place was a bleakness that startled her. Her gaze was drawn to the scar on his cheek, and she found herself wondering if that had anything to do with his bad dreams.

She turned away and scanned the contents of the refrigerator one last time. “I guess that’s everything.” She opened the freezer. “What about all this?”

He nodded, relieved that she’d changed the subject. “We’ll have to store that in the shed, too. If it starts to thaw, we’ll just have to cook everything and have ourselves a feast.”

She lifted out neatly labeled packages and stacked them in the box. When she was finished, Jace set aside two packages.

“I hope you’re not a vegetarian,” he said.

“No. Why?” She eyed the packages suspiciously. “What’s that?”

“Tonight’s dinner.” He winked, and Ciara’s heart did another flip. “My sister, Mary Ellen, always did have a good eye for prime beef.”

He hefted the boxes and carried them to the shed where he stored them on a high shelf, placing several heavy boards over the top to keep any curious animals away.

Then he began tinkering with the generator. As he worked he found himself thinking about Ciara. She might have teased about packing a bikini, but the truth was, the clothes she’d brought were hardly the Hollywood type. She looked as natural in jeans and a flannel shirt as she did in those sexy, glittery gowns she usually shed in her movies. She seemed different too, from the brainless characters she portrayed. There was a sense of humor beneath the sultry looks. And a sensitivity he hadn’t anticipated. Despite her earlier attacks on his chosen profession, she’d instantly backed off when she’d caught a glimpse of his pain.

He turned away, rubbing his cheek. He was reading too much into all this. And spending entirely too much time and energy thinking about Ciara Wilde. She wasn’t the problem at the moment. Survival was.

As he stepped from the shed he glanced skyward. The snow had stopped, at least for the moment, and the sun was actually trying to break through the clouds. But if the storm clouds to the north were any indication, there could be more snow on the way. He was determined to keep a supply of firewood beside the fireplace at all times. That way, no matter how much snow fell, they’d be warm.

A short time later he strolled back inside, scraping snow off his boots as he did. Leaning against the door he watched as Ciara poked at the fire before adding another log. The thin fabric of her T-shirt strained against her breasts, and he felt a rush of heat that had nothing at all to do with the warmth in the cabin.

“You’re getting pretty good at that.”

She looked up, drew her flannel shirt tighter before closing the firescreen. “Yeah. In no time I’ll be baking bread and spinning wool into cloth.”

“Now those were the good old days.” He studied the way her jeans molded to her hips, and decided that he definitely needed to cool off. “The snow’s ended. I think I’ll take a walk. Want to come?”

She shook her head. “I’d love to. But the warmest thing I packed was a denim jacket.”

He pointed to a door off the kitchen. “There are parkas and boots in that storage closet.”

She brightened. “I’ll just be a minute.”

She emerged wearing an oversize parka, the cuffs of her jeans tucked into hiking boots. “Okay. I think I’m ready to brave the elements. Except that I couldn’t find any gloves.”

They stepped outside and followed the line of trees. Beyond the cabin the grade rose sharply, and they found themselves climbing until they emerged on an open hillside. It was a struggle to walk through all that snow, but the view was worth it. Sunlight glistened on a dazzling, pristine wilderness.

Ciara stopped in her tracks. “Oh, just look at it.”

Jace paused beside her, then looked down. Their cabin far below looked like a toy nestled so snugly in the woods; all that could be seen was the smoke coming from the chimney. All around them was snow—so white it was nearly blinding. Distant fences were nearly buried beneath the drifts. It lay heavy on tree branches, dragging limbs nearly to the ground. A branch somewhere snapped beneath the weight, and the sound echoed in the silence like a gunshot.

“You’d almost think—” her voice was hushed, reverent “—we were the only ones to see this.”

“We are. Except for them.” He pointed and she followed his gesture, then gave a gasp of pleasure at the sight of the herd of deer just emerging from a stand of trees.

She and Jace stood perfectly still, enjoying the image of the graceful animals picking their way through the drifts. Suddenly, one of the deer caught the scent of humans, and the herd bounded away, disappearing into the woods as quickly as they had come.

For the space of a heartbeat Ciara couldn’t find her voice. When she did, she managed to whisper, “Wasn’t that wonderful?”

“Yeah. Pretty neat.” He glanced over and caught the glimmer of tears on her lashes before she managed to blink them away. “Haven’t you ever seen deer in the wild before?”

“Not since I was a kid. I never expected to be so moved by the sight. But they’re really special, aren’t they?”

He nodded. “Come on, Hollywood. Let’s lighten the mood. I’ll race you to the top of the hill. Last one there cooks dinner tonight.”

It would have been an easy run without the mounds of snow. But now it was like running with both feet tied together and heavy weights in their boots. After only a couple of steps, Ciara felt herself falling. As she went down, she managed to snag Jace’s arm, dragging him with her.

“Hey. No fair.” He fell into a snowbank, and she landed beside him.

“You didn’t spell out any rules.” She scrambled to her feet and broke into a run. “You just said last one there cooks dinner.”

“Oh, I get it.” He started after her. “You want to play cutthroat, do you?” When she eluded his grasp, he made a dive, tackling her around the middle. She fell, and he landed on top of her.

A mistake, he realized. He was suddenly all too aware of the soft curves beneath him, and the way his body sank into them. He was playing with fire here.

Unaware of his reaction, she gave a laugh as she struggled free of his grasp and started to crawl away. But he was too fast for her, catching her foot and dragging her back down. When he rolled her over, she had a face full of snow.

“Oh, you’re going to pay for that, Lockhart.” She scooped up a handful of snow.

Reading her intentions, he ducked his head, and she smeared it in his hair instead. “Bad aim, Hollywood.” He bent his head and shook it like a great, shaggy dog, sending a snow shower over her face.

She scooped up another handful and managed to stuff it down the neck of his parka. At his surprised look, she gave a roar of laughter. “Looks like my aim just got better.”

“I’ll have to do something about that.” He caught both her hands in his and locked them over her head. Then, with a wicked smile, he picked up a handful of snow. As he brought it slowly to her neck he taunted, “Now what’re you going to do about it?”

“Jace.” She was laughing harder as he began to unzip her parka. “Don’t you dare!”

“Dare? Did I hear you say ‘dare’? Are you daring me, Hollywood? I think I’d better warn you—from the time I was a little kid, I never could turn away from a dare.”

“Jace.” She saw the glint in his eye, and started wiggling.

Without warning, he dropped the snow and cupped her face in his hand.

The look he gave her was hot and fierce, as though he was fighting a war within himself. There was strength in him, she realized. And an undercurrent of violence—or perhaps passion. Whatever it was, it frightened her.

And then his mouth was on hers. There was nothing soft or gentle or persuasive about the kiss. It was as hot, as hungry as the look in his eyes. And as demanding.

Jace didn’t even know how this had happened. One minute, it was all good-natured teasing. The next, he’d wanted more than anything in the world to taste those pouting lips.

And, oh, the taste of her. At the same time sweet and savory, icy cold and hot as sin. And even now, knowing he ought to back off, he couldn’t seem to find the willpower. Instead, he savored the flavor of her and took the kiss deeper. His hand fisted in hair that was even softer than it looked. All silken strands that tangled around his fingers and brushed against his palm, inviting him to take more.

He hadn’t expected this softness. It was a surprise. She was a surprise. Sweet when he’d expected her to be tough. Vulnerable when he’d anticipated an icy wall of reserve. Everything about her was different from what he’d anticipated.

Ciara’s head was spinning. She knew she ought to resist. But there had been no warning. And now, with her senses reeling, she couldn’t seem to do more than sigh as she lost herself in the pleasure of his kiss.

There had been so many fake kisses in so many movie scenes, she’d lost count. But this was no act. This was so real, so soul-stirring that she felt her breath back up in her throat. Felt her heart pounding in her chest. Felt herself melting into the snow.

This was a man who knew how to kiss, moving his mouth over hers with a thoroughness that had her sighing. He kissed her as though he were tasting the sweetest of confections. Drinking her in. Feasting on her. Against her will, she lost herself in the kiss, forgetting all her promises to herself to hold this man at bay.

And then, just as her lips softened and opened to him, he abruptly jerked away. She blinked. When her blurred vision cleared, he was already getting to his feet.

Bad move, he decided, as he reached down and helped her to stand. They might be stuck here for days. He’d better keep his hands to himself. The last thing he needed in his life was one more complication. And a woman like this would definitely prove to be a complication.

“Time to get back to the cabin. My hands are freezing.” His tone was as flat and unemotional as he could manage over his wildly beating heart. It irritated him to note that his hands were shaking. He stuck them in his pockets and started off at a brisk pace.

“Yeah.” Ciara brushed snow from her backside, then struggled to keep up with his impatient strides. If he was going to pretend nothing had happened, she’d play along. In fact, it would be a lot better this way. They’d both pretend this had been nothing more than a moment of weakness, that it had already been forgotten.

“But just so you know, I got closer to the top than you did. So you can make dinner.”