The Millionaire's Snowbound Seduction

by Sandra Marton

  He held his hands out to the flames and smiled with satisfaction. Then he looked back up the stairs. Holly had all but told him never to darken her doorway again—but she’d change her mind, when she saw the fire.

  He ran up the steps, then stood outside her room, listening. At first, he heard nothing but then, after a moment, he thought he could hear something. The sigh of the wind in the eaves, perhaps…

  Or the sound of a woman, weeping.

  He hesitated, then rapped lightly on the closed door. ‘Holly?’

  There was no response.

  ‘Holly?’ he said, and knocked again.

  The noise, whatever it was, stopped.

  ‘Holly? Are you okay?’

  Silence. Nick frowned and put his hand on the doorknob.

  ‘Holly, answer me!’

  ‘What do you want?’ Holly said, in a muffled voice.

  Nick leaned his forehead against the door and heaved a sigh of relief.

  ‘Are you okay in there?’

  Holly grabbed a tissue from the box on the nightstand, wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said. Tears spilled down her cheeks and she rubbed them away with the back of her hand. ‘Just—just a little chilly.’

  ‘That’s what I want to talk to you about. Can I come in?’

  She hesitated. If Nick saw her like this, what would he think? She’d been crying for so long…her eyes and nose were probably pink and swollen.

  ‘Holly?’

  He’d undoubtedly misinterpret her tears and think they were for him. They weren’t. She’d done with crying over Nick a long time ago. She’d been crying out of anger, that was all. Anger, plain and simple.

  ‘Dammit, Holly, what’s wrong?’

  But he couldn’t see her, not unless he had the flashlight and he didn’t, or she’d have been able to see the beam of its light shining under the door.

  ‘Nothing’s wrong,’ she said, and sat up. She ran her hands through her hair, fluffing it away from her face. ‘Come on in.’

  Nick stepped into the room. Holly’s face was a pale ivory oval against the pillows.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, and cleared his throat.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, and smiled.

  ‘I, uh, I…’ What was the matter with him? He’d come upstairs to tell her that he had a fire going in the fireplace, not to stand at the foot of the bed in tongue-tied oblivion. But it was hard to think straight, when he looked down at the beautiful face of his wife.

  ‘Nick?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You said you wanted to tell me something.’

  ‘Oh. Oh, right. Right…’ He frowned. ‘Your voice sounds strange. Have you been crying?’

  ‘Crying?’ She gave a gay little laugh. ‘Me? Of course not. I mean, it’s cold, yes, but I wouldn’t cry over that. I, uh, I think I might be catching a cold.’

  She’d drawn the blankets to her chin. And there were so many blankets that her body was shapeless beneath them. But his memory supplied all the details. Her graceful throat, with that place just at the juncture of neck and shoulder that always seemed to smell like spring rain. Her silken breasts, and the way they filled his palms…

  Nick’s body clenched like a fist. That didn’t surprise him. What did was the sudden clenching of his heart.

  Holly, he thought, baby, where did it all go? What happened to us?

  ‘Nick? Are you okay?’

  ‘Sure.’ He smiled. ‘Better than okay. That’s what I came to tell you.’

  He sounded pleased with himself. Not smug. Just pleased, and eager to share the pleasure with her. Holly’s heart surged with delight. This was the Nick she remembered. The easy laughter in his voice. The beautiful, tautly-muscled body….

  ‘On second thought, I’d rather surprise you.’ He moved to the side of the bed and held out his hand. ‘Come on.’

  ‘Come on, where? It’s freezing cold—’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘It’s the middle of the night—’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. But it’s only…’ He lifted his hand, checked his watch. ‘It’s only twelve-thirty.’

  Only twelve-thirty? Her spirits dropped like a stone sinking into a pond, but she kept her tone perky.

  ‘All the more reason for me to stay put.’

  Nick sighed. ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘if you’re going to be stubborn…’

  Holly shrieked as he scooped her into his arms, blankets and all. ‘Nick! What on earth are you doing?’

  ‘If Mohammed won’t come to the mountain…’ He grunted as he rearranged her in his arms. ‘Just hang on tight. I don’t want to trip over these blankets.’

  What choice was there? Holly put her arms around his neck and hung on as he headed for the stairs.

  ‘Really,’ she said, ‘Nick, this is silly.’

  Except, it wasn’t. It was wonderful, just like the dreams she’d been having. She was in Nick’s arms, where she belonged.

  Where she’d once belonged.

  She shuddered, and Nick drew her closer. ‘Cold?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. What else could she say? Not the truth, that she was engulfed in sensation, almost painfully aware of Nick’s masculine scent. The sexy rub of his unshaven jaw against her cheek. The strength of his embrace, and how good it felt to lie, secure, within it.

  Her heart was beating like a drum.

  ‘Here we go,’ he said, as he carried her into the living room…and she saw the flames, leaping on the hearth.

  ‘Oh, Nick!’ Her voice rang with delight. ‘You built a fire. But how?’

  He gave a wicked chuckle as he sank to the floor before the fireplace and settled her in his lap.

  ‘Well, I was going to tear the sofa apart with my bare hands and feed it to the flames—and then I remembered something.’

  Holly knew she ought to move. It was wrong to be here, snug in her ex-husband’s arms. But being snug—being warm—was what this was all about, wasn’t it? Finding warmth, against the deadly cold of the cabin?

  ‘What did you remember?’ she asked.

  ‘Where we found the firewood the last time we were here. It was in the shed, remember?’

  ‘No.’ She frowned. ‘No, I don’t—Oh. Of course! How could I have forgotten? The wood-shed, out behind the garage.’

  ‘That’s the place.’ He leaned back against the sofa, so that her head lay against his shoulder. ‘Do I get a merit badge for this one or not?’

  Holly laughed. ‘My Eagle Scout,’ she said softly.

  ‘Feels good, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Wonderful,’ she murmured, shutting her eyes and burrowing even closer.

  They sat without talking, soothed by the warmth of the fire. Nick dipped his head and inhaled the fragrance of Holly’s hair. Her skin. She smelled like a morning meadow, fresh and new and touched with the scent of wildflowers. And she felt—she felt wonderful, here in his arms.

  The feel of her was new, and yet it wasn’t. How could it be? Every inch of her body was imprinted on his. He remembered each curve, each sweet line. He knew what would happen if he kissed her throat, where it lay bare. If he breathed against her skin. If he raised her sweatshirt and bit gently at the straining flesh of her breast.

  His body turned rock-hard. It was sudden and unexpected, and so unnerving that he shot to his feet while Holly gasped and clung to his neck. He deposited her on the sofa, swung away, grabbed for the poker and stabbed blindly at the burning logs.

  ‘Okay,’ he said briskly, ‘here’s the plan. We’ll spread a couple of blankets on the floor, in front of the fire. Then we’ll dump the rest of them over us. That ought to keep us warm enough so we can be sure of waking up in the morning with fingers and toes still attached.’

  When it was safe to turn around and face her, he saw that her face was flushed with color. Her eyes were dark, almost the color of the night crowding in at the windows. Had she felt the pressure of his arousal? Or was she wary of spending the night lying so cl
ose to him?

  ‘It’s the only sensible thing to do,’ he said softly.

  She nodded. ‘Yes. I agree.’

  ‘Good.’

  She cleared her throat and forced a little smile to her lips. ‘It’s certainly better than turning into an advertisement for the wonders of cryogenics.’ Her smile broadened, and she touched a finger to the tip of her nose. ‘Or for freezer burn. I do still have a nose, don’t I?’

  Nick grinned. ‘Definitely.’

  ‘Good. For a while there, I was pretty sure I was going to lose it.’

  ‘That’s right. It wasn’t just your hands and feet that used to turn icy, it was your nose, too. I remember nights when we’d turn over in our sleep so that you’d end up holding me, and I’d wake up because that cute little ice cube was pressed into my back…’

  His words trailed off. Their gazes met, held, then slid away.

  ‘Okay,’ Nick said briskly. He plucked some blankets from beside the sofa and laid them before the hearth. ‘Ah, the wonders of nature. I don’t recall anybody doing this in The Sound Of Music, do you?’

  Holly laughed. ‘No.’

  ‘Yeah, well, maybe they don’t have power failures in the Alps.’ He grabbed the pillow, placed it at one end of the improvised mattress. ‘Ready when you are, Frosty.’

  Holly laughed again. She knew what he was doing, making a joke of the fact that they were about to sleep together, but it wasn’t helping. Her mouth was dry; her heart was doing a crazed two-step.

  ‘Holly?’

  She raised her head and focused on Nick’s face. One look told her that he knew what she was thinking.

  ‘You’ll have your half of the bed, and I’ll have mine. I promise.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, and before she could feel like too much of an idiot she scooted off the sofa, onto the blankets he’d arranged, and lay down with her head on the pillow.

  Nick layered the remaining blankets over her. Then he lifted one corner, edged beneath the stack, and lay down so that no part of his body was touching hers.

  ‘Okay?’

  ‘Fine.’

  They lay in silence for a few minutes, and then Nick sighed. ‘We should have brought down that other pillow.’

  ‘Here. You can use—’

  ‘No, don’t be—’

  They rolled against each other, caught their breaths, and instantly pulled apart.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ he said gruffly.

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Positive.’

  Silence enveloped them. They lay on their backs, staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows cast by the fire.

  All I have to do is reach out my hand, Holly thought…

  All I have to do is touch her, Nick thought…

  ‘Nick?’

  Holly’s whisper was tenuous and soft as a sigh. Nick felt his heartbeat accelerate.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m sorry for what I said before. About the chip on your shoulder.’

  ‘No, that’s okay. You were just being honest.’

  ‘Yes, but…’ She sighed again. ‘You were a good husband, Nick. It’s just that I…’

  ‘You wanted somebody else,’ he said, trying not to let the pain show in his words. ‘I understand.’

  ‘No! Not somebody else. Something else. Something I’d thought you—you and I… Never mind. I just wanted you to know that I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

  ‘Yeah. Me, too.’

  ‘You, too, what?’

  ‘I’m sorry if I said anything that hurt. All that stuff about the Holly Brennan stamp of approval…it wasn’t true. I mean, that’s how it sometimes felt, but…’ He cleared his throat. ‘You were a good wife, Holly. It’s just that I—’

  ‘I wasn’t the wife you wanted.’

  No, he thought, hell, no. It was me. I couldn’t measure up. I wanted only you, Holly. I still want…

  ‘Here,’ she said, and moved closer. ‘The pillow’s big enough to share.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  They lay side by side, sharing the improvised bed and the pillow but as far apart as two human beings who’d once shared their lives with each other could possibly be. The moments slipped past and then Nick thought, The hell with it. He reached for Holly’s hand and clasped it in his.

  ‘Goodnight,’ he whispered.

  Holly blinked hard. Tears burned behind her eyelids.

  ‘Goodnight, Nick.’

  She shut her eyes. He shut his. The fire burned. The wind sighed.

  After a while, Nick murmured in his sleep and rolled to his side. He reached out for Holly. For his wife. Lost in her dreams, Holly went straight into his arms.

  CHAPTER SIX

  NICK awoke alone, in a heap of blankets that still carried Holly’s scent.

  His shoulder felt just a little stiff, the way it used to in the mornings when they’d been married. In the days when Holly had still slept the night through with her head tucked just beneath his chin.

  That was how she’d slept last night, with her hand splayed over his chest and her leg draped over his…

  God, it had felt wonderful.

  His smile faded. What good did it do to think such things? She’d probably gone into his arms out of long-remembered habit, nothing more.

  He sat up and ran his fingers through his tousled hair. The fire was still burning on the hearth. He’d fed it a couple of times during the night, each time slipping carefully from under the blankets so as not to wake Holly. The last time he’d crept back into their warm bed, he’d yielded to temptation, bent his head and brushed his mouth gently over hers. Holly had sighed and murmured something that might have been his name and he’d drawn her close, tucked her head beneath his chin, and fallen into a deep, peaceful sleep.

  Nick glanced at the window. The storm was over. The sun was rising into a cloudless sky.

  His heart constricted.

  The plows would come through this morning. There’d be no excuse for him to stay. Not that there’d be any use in staying…

  ‘Good morning.’

  Nick looked around. Holly was standing halfway between the kitchen and the living room, wearing jeans, hiking boots, and a heavy ski sweater. Her long wheaten hair was pulled back in a French braid, and her face was shiny and as scrubbed as a schoolgirl’s.

  He smiled. He’d almost forgotten that his wife—his former wife—was a wonderful sight to wake up to.

  ‘Good morning,’ he said. ‘I seem to have overslept.’

  Holly grinned. ‘You’re a regular lazybones. How about some caffeine to get you started?’

  ‘Caffeine? You mean…’ Nick lifted his head and sniffed the air. ‘I thought I was hallucinating. Is that really coffee I smell?’

  ‘I was wondering how long it would take you to notice. Just wait there one second…’ She disappeared into the kitchen and popped out a minute later with two mugs in her hands. ‘You still take it with cream and one sugar?’ she asked as she came towards him.

  Nick nodded. ‘Yeah.’

  Holly reached down to the warm ashes in front of the fireplace and removed a grey and white speckled coffee pot.

  ‘Damn,’ Nick said with pleasure. ‘I never noticed.’

  She filled both mugs, smiled, and handed one over. He took it and buried his nose in the fragrant steam.

  ‘A miracle. Thank you.’ He took a sip, sighed, and looked at Holly, who’d sat down, cross-legged, opposite him. ‘How’d you manage it?’

  ‘Well, I decided to poke through the pantry.’

  ‘And you found a coffee shop?’

  Holly laughed. ‘I found coffee, and a pot. And we already had the fire…’

  ‘Hey, that’s terrific! I’ve been sitting here, thinking about the stuff I brought with me, wondering if I’d really managed to forget to bring along some coffee.’ He winced. ‘My stomach kept insisting it wasn’t up to starting the day with half-raw steak.’

  Holly laughed. ‘I remembe
r. You had two ways of grilling steak over an open fire. Burned to a crisp, or raw.’

  ‘Hey, give a guy a break. Call it steak tartare and the price goes up, babe…’ Nick shook his head. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to—I know you hate it when I call you—’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said quickly.

  ‘It does. There are so many things—’

  ‘Nick.’ Holly ran the tip of her tongue over her lips. ‘Let’s not do this, okay? The snow’s stopped, the sun’s out, and before you know it they’ll clear the road and you can leave.’ A smile seemed to tremble on her lips. ‘So why don’t we declare a moratorium on the recriminations and apologies for the next couple of hours?’ Holly shifted her coffee cup to one hand and extended the other. ‘Just two old friends, enjoying breakfast together. How’s that sound?’

  Impossible, that was how it sounded. They’d been lovers, not friends…

  ‘Nick?’

  Friends. It wasn’t a bad idea. Maybe that was the way to find closure, once and for all.

  Nick clasped Holly’s hand in his. ‘It sounds fine. Just give me a couple of minutes and I’m all yours.’

  * * *

  He wasn’t all hers, not anymore.

  Holly stood at the kitchen counter, cracking eggs into a blue ceramic bowl and listening to Nick’s footsteps overhead.

  What was he doing? Dressing, she hoped. One more look at his bare chest and she’d be lost.

  One more minute in his arms, in front of that fire, and she’d have been worse than lost. She’d awakened, when he’d crept out from under the blankets to stoke the fire during the night, stunned to find that she’d been sleeping in his arms. She’d been on the verge of telling him she was awake, that she was going to make a bed for herself on the sofa, but then he’d put his arms around her, given her the most tender of kisses…

  It had left her shaken, and silent.

  A flush rose in her cheeks. You didn’t exorcise the ghost of a dead marriage by sleeping with your ex-husband, no matter how sexy he was. And Nick was sexy, all right. She didn’t have to be in love with him anymore to recognize that. Still, it wasn’t desire she’d felt last night, lying in his arms. It was much more. Warmth, and comfort, and a sense of rightness and such deep well-being that—

  ‘Hi.’

  Holly swung around. Nick was standing in the doorway. Her heart tripped at the sight of him. This was the Nick she remembered, not a sophisticated man in an expensive trench coat and custom-made suit, but a guy who looked like an ad for outdoor living. He was wearing a turtleneck under a worn flannel shirt, faded jeans and leather hiking boots that looked even older than hers. There was a day-old stubble on his jaw, and a beat-up leather jacket hung over his shoulder from his thumb.