Snowbound Cinderella

by Ruth Langan

  Jace could see the way her smile softened all her features, and put a light in her eyes that made them glow. “That must have given you a pretty special feeling.”

  She nodded. “I started saving every dollar I could, just so I could always hear that joy in my mother’s voice. That’s when I was encouraged to switch from modeling to acting. But those were pretty rough years in the beginning. I didn’t always…make the right choices.”

  Jace thought about the films he’d seen her starring in. Most of the plots were forgettable. But he had to admit that the girl in the skimpy clothes had always been worth the price of admission.

  Now he tried to imagine a girl of sixteen, being pressured by studios to star in cheap films and bare her body for the sake of big dollars. In her place, how many others would have had the wisdom or the courage to do otherwise?

  Ciara grew thoughtful for a moment before saying, “I was given a lot of bad advice. And there were several people who really took advantage of my ignorance. My first agent stole more than half a million dollars before he was discovered. He got off with a fine and a short time in jail. And when he came out, he went right back to handling the careers of other young stars who didn’t know any better. And then there was my best friend—not Emily, but a girl I’d met in L.A. and had become really close to…” She paused, frowned. “Well, she’s my ex-best friend, because she sold photos of me to a tabloid. Photos she took with a hidden camera, over a period of more than a year.”

  Jace’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t even imagine such betrayal.”

  Ciara sighed. “It hurt so much. But I learned from it. I grew up. Maybe a little bit faster and a little bit harder than I would have liked. But like my mother said, at least all they stole from me was my money and my trust. I can earn more money, and I’ll be a lot more careful with those I trust.” Her tone hardened. “But I’ll never let them steal my soul.”

  Jace saw the flash of fire in her eyes and studied her with new respect. “That’s a pretty remarkable story. I’d say you’ve been through a baptism of fire, Hollywood.”

  “I guess that’s true.” Her voice softened. “And I guess I’d do it all again, if only because I was able to buy my mother a nice house. It’s a pretty little place, with flowers in the yard, and a rocker on the front porch.” She smiled, remembering the last time she’d gone for a visit. “My youngest brother still lives with her. He’s a senior in high school. Two of my brothers are in college, and one’s attending law school. Tom, the one closest in age to me, is married and lives just down the street from my mom. I’ve never seen my family so happy, or so contented.”

  “That’s really nice. And I’m sure it makes up, at least a little, for what you’ve had to go through.”

  “It makes up for a lot to have been able to give them the kind of life they have now.”

  Jace could see the joy that radiated from her. “So, why are you hiding out up here instead of enjoying all that success? I mean, for a woman with a mansion, a limousine and men worshiping at her feet, you should be on top of the world.”

  She looked away. “I just needed to…sort out a few things.”

  He immediately regretted the teasing question that had erased her smile. “Well.” He picked up an oven mitt and retrieved the coffee from the fire, filling two cups. “You can have it with a pinch of sugar, or with a splash of brandy.”

  She tried to force a smile to her lips, but it faltered slightly. “I think I’m in the mood for brandy.”

  He poured a little into both their cups. As he handed one to her he said, “Here’s to healing. And sorting things out. I hope this old cabin works its magic. For both of us.”

  They touched cups, then drank.

  Suddenly Jace brightened. “Do you play cards?”

  “You mean like…go fish?”

  “I was thinking more like gin rummy.”

  She pursed her lips. “Yeah. I guess I can remember how to play it. We used to play gin when we were kids.”

  Jace shot her a smile. “When you were a kid, huh? That’s even better.” He rummaged through a drawer until he located a battered pack of playing cards. “We’ll keep it small. A penny a point.” He shuffled, then dealt with all the finesse of a Vegas dealer.

  “Fine.” Ciara watched for a few moments. Seeing the skill with which he handled the cards, she walked to her bedroom and returned with a pad and pencil. “But just to keep you honest, I’ll keep score.”

  “Gin.” With a laugh of delight Ciara laid down her hand.

  “Not again. You can’t have gin again.” Jace set aside the cigar he’d been smoking and looked at all the face cards in his hand, mentally tallying his losses. “That’s the tenth time in a row. You’ve got to be cheating.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m just lucky.”

  “Lucky is winning once or twice. Not ten times without a loss.” He picked up her cards, studied them. With a muttered oath, he tossed them aside.

  “Let’s see.” Ciara tallied the score, then brightened. “You owe me five dollars and seventy-eight cents.”

  “That’s impossible.” He circled the table and stood over her, laying a hand on her shoulder as he studied her figures.

  She struggled not to react. But she could feel the heat of his touch through her flannel shirt. “See?” She pointed. “Right here. Five dollars and seventy-eight cents. Want to play some more?”

  “Not on your life.” He reached into his pocket and peeled off a bill and change.

  “That’s five seventy-five.” She held out her hand. “I have three more cents coming.”

  “Amazing. You not only cheat, but you’re vindictive as well.”

  “Just practical. I pay my debts, and I expect others to do the same.” She smiled when he dropped three pennies into her palm.

  She stuffed them into the pocket of her jeans and strolled closer to the fire. “I think that’s the most I’ve won in a year.”

  “A year?” His eyes narrowed as he walked up beside her. “I thought you said you played gin when you were a kid.”

  “I did.” She gave him one of her best wide-eyed looks. “Oh, and a lot of years since then. Did I forget to mention that I play a lot of gin with the crew on the set when we’re between takes?”

  “Yeah. You did forget to mention that. How often do you play?”

  She shrugged. “That depends. During a long, boring shoot, if the director’s waiting for the right light, we might play for hours at a time.” She fluttered her lashes. “I don’t like to brag, but I think I’ve gotten pretty good at it. There are a couple of our crew who won’t even play me anymore. They’re like a certain reporter I know who just hates to lose.”

  “Hey.” He closed a hand over her shoulder. “I don’t mind losing. But I hate to be conned.”

  She ignored the little rush of heat. “Who’s calling who a con? I saw the way you shuffled. You probably took lessons from a cardsharp.”

  He grinned. “Yeah. Maybe I did. His name was Aces Malone, and he was one of the best.” He caught her chin, lifted it when she tried to look away. “But, Hollywood, when it comes to cardsharps, he can’t hold a candle to you.”

  His gaze fastened on her lips. For one brief moment he thought about walking away. Thought about it, then discarded it. Hell, he didn’t want to be noble.

  He just wanted.

  He lowered his face and brushed his lips over hers. It was the merest brush of mouth to mouth. But in that instant everything changed.

  He felt her stiffen, just for a moment. Then everything about her softened. Her hands—flexing, splaying across his chest. Her lips—opening slightly as his nibbled and nuzzled and tasted. Her sigh—which was little more than a whisper of pleasure that tugged at his heart.

  Ciara felt everything speed up. Her pulse—racing as though she’d just jogged miles along the beach. Her mind—crowded with thoughts and images, all of them erotic and confusing. Her heart—filled to overflowing with a need she’d never even known she possessed: The nee
d to be held, to be cherished, to be savored.

  Savored. That was what she felt when Jace kissed her. As though he were tasting something so delicious, that he had to have more. And more. It was the same for her. She couldn’t seem to get enough of the taste of him. A taste that was wicked and wild. And more than a little dangerous.

  She didn’t know why, but when he kissed her, she had the feeling that he was interested in her, just for herself. Not for Ciara Wilde, the actress. Just for Ciara, the woman.

  Oh, what was the matter with her? He was just a man. And this was just a kiss. But the press of his mouth on hers was doing such strange things to her. She felt giddy and light-headed and wildly exhilarated. Her fingers curled into the front of his sweater and she hung on as he took her on a wild ride of emotions.

  His hands at her back moved slowly down her spine, pressing her firmly to the length of him. Tiny splinters of ice curled through her veins as she felt his hard, muscled body imprint itself on hers. She was cold, then suddenly too hot, as his mouth moved over hers, taking the kiss deeper. And then she couldn’t think at all. All she could do was feel as she gave herself up to the pleasure.

  Jace tried to remind himself that she was an actress. She returned his kisses so thoroughly, so perfectly, because she’d had plenty of time to rehearse. She was, after all, every man’s fantasy. But the woman in his arms was very real. Flesh and blood. Such incredible flesh, he thought as his hands made a slow pass down her back, up her sides, until his thumbs encountered the swell of her breasts. He felt the rush of heat, the flash of need. It was crazy to want a woman like this. A woman so far out of his reach. But reason was warring with desire. And her fingers were soft as they slowly moved across his shoulders. And her lips were so tempting as they moved under his, urging him to take more. And the scent of her was clouding his mind, making him think of all the things he’d ever wanted that had been forbidden. She was an exotic flower growing on some lush tropical island. A priceless jewel just waiting to be discovered. A rare treasure that no one had yet found. And she could be his for the taking.

  His hands tangled in her hair, drawing her head back as he took the kiss deeper still. He ached from the need to touch her everywhere. To feel her body move under his hands. He struggled against the sexual tug that was drawing him closer and closer to the edge of something wild and dark and primitive.

  The thought of taking her here on the floor had him trembling with need.

  “What in hell’s the matter with us?” He lifted his head, caught her roughly by the shoulders.

  Her breathing was a little too ragged to form a protest. And so she merely stared at him, hoping he couldn’t see just how much she’d been affected by this.

  “Sorry.” His fingers tightened. “The last thing either of us needs is a—complication right now.”

  Stung, she pulled away. “I’ve been handling ‘complications’ since I was a kid. Sorry if that’s how you see me.” She turned away to hide the hurt.

  He swore. “You know what I mean. We both came here to heal. I’ve never thought of casual sex as particularly healing.”

  She lifted her head, glanced over her shoulder. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that there’s no such thing as casual sex. I, for one, take it very personally.”

  That was a direct hit to his heart. His eyes narrowed. “I’ll give you this much, Hollywood. You know how to hurt a guy. But at least one of us had the good sense to stop this before it got out of hand.”

  She flushed with embarrassment. It was true. If he hadn’t stopped them, she wouldn’t have been able to do it. The truth was, she’d been too caught up in the kiss to have any sense at all.

  Jace needed some breathing room. Picking up his parka and his cigar, he headed for the door. “Don’t wait up. I’m going for a very long walk.”

  Ciara waited until the door closed, then threw the oven mitt, against the wall. What was the matter with her? Why was she constantly letting down her guard around this man? She couldn’t for the life of her understand what was happening to her.

  Her first instincts about him had been right. She couldn’t trust him. What was even worse, she couldn’t trust herself around him. There was just something about him that made her forget all her promises to herself.

  Trust. What a laugh. Hadn’t she been betrayed often enough to know that she couldn’t afford to trust anyone?

  She decided to take out her temper on the dirty dishes, scrubbing and polishing until they were done. Then she found herself doing exactly what her mother had always done when she’d been frustrated. She began dusting, rearranging, until the entire cabin gleamed. That done, she made her way to her bedroom, where she carefully hung her clothes and pulled on the oversize football jersey she wore to bed.

  She crawled between the covers, determined to put Jace Lockhart out of her mind. She’d show him that she wasn’t affected by him in the least. By the time he came back, she’d be sleeping like a baby.

  Six

  Ciara tossed and turned in her bed, determined to fall asleep. But the more she tried, the more restless she became. She had heard Jace return to the cabin hours ago. Had listened to his footfall as he’d climbed to the loft. By now he had probably forgotten all about their little scene and was lost in some pleasant dream fantasy.

  Why couldn’t she do the same?

  She punched the pillow and rolled to the other side, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. She wouldn’t glance at the little battery-operated travel clock on the bedside table. She didn’t want to know the time. It would only make matters worse if she found out she had the whole night ahead of her.

  She clenched her teeth. Why was she letting Jace Lockhart get under her skin like this? Just a night ago she’d thought of him as the most revolting of all creatures: a clever, cunning, intrusive reporter. Now she was angry because he’d had the wisdom to keep them both from making a terrible mistake. And he was right. It would have been a mistake to let the passion of the moment carry them along into something they’d both regret in the morning.

  But the mere thought of his mouth on hers, of his strong, clever hands moving along her body, sent a series of tremors skyrocketing through her. She’d never known such fire, such flash, from a single kiss.

  It was the situation, she reminded herself. Two people, both struggling with personal turmoil, in close quarters. They were two volatile individuals, bound to explode when things got too hot.

  Hot. She kicked off the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. She was flushing thinking about Jace’s hard body pressed to hers. She ran a hand through her hair. It was a good thing it was nighttime, so she didn’t have to look at herself in the mirror. She wouldn’t like what she saw. What kind of woman was she, that she could be turned on by one man, while engaged to another? All right, she argued. So the marriage in two weeks was in question. But she wasn’t being fair to either man at the moment.

  What right did she have to question Brendan’s character, when her own was so lacking? Oh, wouldn’t the tabloids have a field day with this if they were to learn of it?

  She slipped out of bed and began to pace. She’d come up here to be alone to think. To clear her mind of all the excess baggage, and make some important decisions. It had been a good idea in the beginning. But Jace’s arrival had changed everything. This cabin was too small for the two of them. What she needed was to get out of here—now.

  She stopped pacing. Maybe the plows would come through in the morning. She smiled, planning her escape. If the main roads were cleared, all she’d have to do was get her car down the lane. The fact that it was more than a mile long, narrow and curving and slippery with a coating of ice beneath snowdrifts that were nearly six feet deep, would make no difference. In fact, Jace would probably be willing to push the car himself just to get rid of her.

  She smiled at the thought. Jace was probably just angry enough to do that very thing.

  Then her smile faded. She was indulging in silly, childish wishes. The sno
w wasn’t going to magically disappear overnight. And like it or not, she and Jace would have to find a way to get through the next day or two. Together. Not an easy task, if she were to be honest about her feelings. The simple truth was, Jace Lockhart was the sexiest man she’d ever met.

  Maybe it was the fact that he was so secretive. He was the proverbial dark, mysterious stranger who fueled so many of the books she’d loved as a child. Unlike most of the men she worked with, he refused to talk about himself. That only made him more mysterious, more appealing. And he seemed completely unaware of his rugged good looks. She worked with men who spent all their time perfecting their looks; when they weren’t working out to keep their bodies in shape, they were consulting skin-care specialists or having their hair styled. The very nature of their careers made them self-absorbed. But Jace was natural, unassuming.

  Most of all, he was a man of integrity, something she admired above all other traits. The fact that Jace had demonstrated enough self-control to resist taking advantage of their situation made her respect him. And made her even more ashamed of her own lack of self-control. Oh, why did he have to be here, disturbing her rest and adding to her list of problems?

  She dragged a hand through her hair and let herself out of the bedroom. Sleep would be impossible now. She was too agitated to even think about going back to bed. She crossed to the fireplace and paused to warm herself. Suddenly, catching sight of the shadowy figure by the window, she let out a gasp.

  “Jace.” Her hand went to her throat. “You scared me half to death. I thought you were asleep.”

  He turned, and she caught sight of his tight, angry profile. If possible, he looked even worse than she felt. As though he were pulling himself back from the edge of a nightmare. His eyes were narrow, dark slits. His mouth twisted into a mask of pain.