Snowbound Cinderella

by Ruth Langan

  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 h
e 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.”

  “No more than I’ve been subjected to all my life.”

  He studied her a moment before saying, “Good point. And you’re right, of course. But I hope you’ll forgive the poor guys. They’re just dazzled by your beauty. The same way I am.” Before she could react to his unexpected compliment, he said, “Let’s hurry up and finish our breakfast.”

  “Why?”

  “The water will be hot. We can shower together, and I’ll show you my…uniform. That is, if you’d care to inspect it.”

  “I suppose it’s the least I can do, before considering your employment.”

  They were still exchanging teasing barbs as they lingered over their breakfast, then washed the dishes and headed toward the shower.

  An hour later they were pulling on their parkas. Jace rummaged in the closet for their skis. “As long as we’re going to hike all the way to the top of the hill, we may as well take the easy way down.”

  “Good idea.” Ciara stepped outside, shouldering her skis.

  The air carried the sweet scent of spring, and was made even warmer by the bright sunshine. As they trudged through the snow, they could feel the steady drip from the trees overhead.

  Jace nodded toward the rushing stream, swollen with runoff from the melting snow. “In a matter of days there won’t even be a trace of this snowstorm.”

  His words caused a sudden ache in her heart. Wasn’t it true of them, as well? Didn’t it stand to reason that once they returned to their careers, this time spent together would vanish without a trace?

  Well, that might be true for Jace. For herself, she thought fiercely, she would never forget this weekend. Or the man who had made it so special.

  They climbed to the top of the hill and gazed around. Though the surrounding countryside was still cloaked in white, there were occasional patches of brown. Many of the evergreens had shaken off their mantle of snow. The crisscrossed tracks left by birds and animals attested to the fact that the storm had given up its hold on nature.

  Jace stared around, then touched a hand to Ciara’s shoulder and pointed. “There are the plows. See?”

  She caught sight of them, inching along
the main highway. She nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and dismay. Relief because it would surely take them the rest of the day to reach the cabin. Dismay because there would be no holding them back now. Once the roads were cleared, she would have no reason to remain.

  She glanced at Jace and realized that he was probably struggling with the same thoughts. “Come on.” She clamped on her skis. “It’ll be slow going in this wet snow. But I still intend to race you down.”

  He caught her arm. “Wait a minute. You forgot to mention the prize.”

  “Did I?” She shot him a challenging smile. “You owe me a back scrub. And I intend to win it.”

  Jace watched her shove off. For an instant he thought about holding back, and allowing her to win. Then just as quickly he dismissed the idea. He’d always known only one way to play, and that was to win. If Ciara wanted that back scrub badly enough, she’d damn well have to be good enough to earn it.

  He shoved off, too, and caught up with her at the line of trees. By the time he veered to the left, he was half a length ahead. When he emerged on the other side of the trees, he heard the sound of her laughter, and caught sight of a flash as she sped past him. Her laughter trailed on the breeze.

  Even as he was forced to bend down into a crouch, hoping to turn on some speed, he had to admire her style. It would appear that Ciara Wilde was no slouch when it came to winning either.

  Maybe that was one more reason he ought to put aside this uneasiness he’d been feeling all morning, and just be glad the plows had finally made it through. Because the truth was, he was beginning to care way too much about this woman. And that knowledge made him extremely uncomfortable. After all, what was he going to do? Marry her?

  He waited for the resistance that always pushed its way to the forefront of his mind whenever he thought about settling down. But this time it didn’t come. Instead, he found himself enjoying the image of Ciara as his wife. And maybe even…a baby. Or two.

  He was so deep in thought that he never even saw the half-buried log in the snow until his skis hit it, sending him flying through the air. He landed in a snowbank, facedown.