by M. Leighton
dashing
through
the
snow
A Sexy, Snowy Christmas Tale
by
M. Leighton
Dashing Through the Snow: A Sexy, Snowy Christmas Tale
A dash of perfect for the holidays!
Dilyn Hart hates Christmas, so when her boss (and ex-boyfriend) hands her an assignment to interview champion snowboarder and gorgeous playboy extraordinaire, Dash Grainger, on Christmas Eve, she takes it. There are several things she doesn’t plan for—a surly driver, a chalet in the middle of nowhere, a freak snowstorm—but the biggest surprise of all is Dash himself.
Dash Grainger lives for the high, and so far in his twenty-six years, he’s never met anyone or anything he loves more. Nothing has ever thrilled him as much as slick snow, cold air, and breakneck speed.
Until he meets Dilyn.
But one perfect night doesn’t mean clear, blue skies the next day. Some storms can’t be weathered.
Christmas might just be one of them.
********
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First Edition
Copyright 2016, M. Leighton
Cover photo by pawelsierak
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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and storylines are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
For those who have been hurt or
suffered loss and just need
Christmas to be good again,
this is for you.
CHAPTER ONE
Dilyn
“Do I taste balls? I think I taste balls,” I tell my editor, smacking my lips in an unsavory way.
“What?”
“Almost like someone I love and trust just teabagged me.” I pause, sticking my tongue out in a silent yuck! “Yep. I taste balls. I just got a holiday teabag.”
“You’d better shut that sassy mouth of yours, Dilyn,” Jacob hisses as he looks left and right to make sure no one else heard me. “Just because we used to date does not mean you can talk to me like one of the guys.”
“Well, if you’d start treating me like a journalist you respect, I’d start talking to you like a boss I respect. Until then, I’ll mention your balls in my mouth as often as I like.” I cross my arms over my chest and tip my chin up in defiance.
“Jesus, Dilyn. Get in here,” Jacob snaps through gritted teeth, grabbing my arm and pulling me into his office. He looks around one more time before he shuts the door and turns his glower onto me. “You can’t say shit like that out there.”
“Why? Afraid Patrick will get jealous and want your balls in his mouth?”
“Christ Almighty, Dilyn, you just… Can’t you just…” My ex stops trying to finish his sentence, settling instead for dropping his head and pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. It’s a gesture I know all too well. It means he’s frustrated. When he finally raises his head, there’s anger in his dark blue eyes. “Keep this up and you’ll end up suspended. I can’t let you cost me my job.”
I back down immediately. I would never hurt Jacob Mullally. No matter how much he hurt me two years ago.
I sigh, letting my arms drop. “Oh come on, Jake. You know I’d never do anything to get you in trouble. So everyone around here knows we used to sleep together. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is when you try to use it against me. Or bring it up when you don’t like your assignment. It doesn’t look good, D. And it’s gotta stop.”
I inhale deeply and exhale slowly. “Okay, fine. All ball references aside, could you please give someone else this story and let me take something less…unpleasant?”
“Every female in this business would give their left tit for an exclusive with Dash Grainger. I thought you’d be happy about this.”
“Oh sure, he’s a rich, famous champion snowboarder who’s traveled the world. And sure, he’s a professional playboy with a string of conquests long enough to stretch the length of the Swiss Alps. And sure, he’s so gorgeous it hurts to look at him, but anyone who knows me at all knows that it takes more than that to get my juices flowing.”
“Is that what this is about? Are you afraid you’ll be attracted to him?”
I hate the hurt that I see flit through Jake’s eyes before he catches himself. We used to be lovers, yes. We’re friends now, yes. But our relationship was a complicated one, and there’s always one person, it seems, that you just can’t get over. I think Jake and I are that person for each other. As much as we tried to make it work, it wasn’t meant to be. And sometimes that still hurts.
“Jake, no.” I have the nearly unbearable urge to go to him, to reach out and touch his lean cheek in that way I used to. The way he used to love. But I can’t do that now. Not after everything that’s happened. I curl my fingers into the hem of my shirt to keep them still. “He’s an adrenaline junkie. He gambles with his life. You of all people should know how I feel about men like that.”
I watch as realization dawns. It spreads across the landscape of his face like the orange and gold rays of sunrise. “I didn’t…I didn’t even think about that. God, I’m such an inconsiderate asshole.”
I laugh at that. “Only on Tuesdays. And two days before Christmas.”
He tips his head back, massaging the nape of his neck, exposing the long, muscular column of his throat. I stare at it, a little twitch of want firing in my belly. Jake always did have a great body, throat included. And I happen to know every single inch of it. And sometimes those memories come back at the damnedest times.
“I’m really sorry, Dilyn, and I wish I could fix this, but it’s too late. I don’t have anyone else to put on this, and the interview was practically handed to us on a silver platter. I hate to say it, but you’ve gotta go.”
TCC, also known as The Celebrity Channel, is a growing online magazine, a large portion of which is dedicated to celebrities and their lifestyles. Obviously. But within the last year, they’ve started to run a couple more respectable segments that go in depth with important or influential figures, people who actually contribute to the planet in one way or another, not just make it pretty. And dramatic. Around the office, we call it the Walters side, as in Barbara Walters. That’s where I like to work. But even so, I’m well aware of what kind of opportunity this is, and why we can’t screw it up.
Why I can’t screw it up.
Exclusives like this are a big deal.
“Fine,” I say, resigned. “I guess this is what I get for running from Christmas like a coward.”
Jake steps toward me, rubbing his hands up and down my upper arms causing chills to break out along my skin. “Anyone would understand your
reasons, D. And of all the things I might call you, ‘coward’ has never been one of them.”
I stare up at him, wishing my body wasn’t reacting to his touch. Wishing my heart had recovered from losing him the way I did.
“Is ‘bitch’? Because you know I hate that word,” I tease, anything to lessen the tension that’s becoming a palpable presence in the room with us.
“Never,” he assures me with a crooked grin. “Stubborn. Willful. Talented. That’s where I’d start.”
I smile. “Keep going.”
His grin deepens. “Brave. Compassionate. Beautiful.”
Without really meaning to, I lean toward him slightly. “Now you definitely have to keep going.”
The sparkle of humor fades from Jake’s eyes and they fall to my lips. “Smart. Sassy. Sexy as hell.”
My mouth goes dry and his fingers still on my arms, tightening as he tugs me closer. “And?”
“And hearing you talk about my balls in your mouth makes me ache to be inside you again.”
I watch as his face draws closer and closer. I should stop him, but I don’t. I want this, too. Since the day we broke up, I haven’t given in to the desire to start something up with him. Not one time, no matter how desperate I felt to talk to him or see him. Or feel his touch. Not even when my vibrator couldn’t bring me the release I needed. I never gave in.
But now…here…like this… I want nothing more than to give in.
A knock sounds at the door, startling us both. We spring apart, my cheeks heating guiltily as Travers, one of our photographers, walks in. “Hey, boss. Got those candids of Kim K. you asked for.”
“Great. Upload them to the server. I’ll take a look at them before I leave tonight.”
Travers nods and backs out into the dark and deserted bullpen, but the moment is gone. His interruption was as effective as a bucket of cold water dumped on Jake and me.
“Okay, well, you’d better get ready to leave,” Jake says, the hands that were just touching me now dangling at his sides. “If I’m not mistaken, your flight leaves in the morning.”
“Figures.” I try to be light and casual, but I don’t feel light or casual.
When the hell am I going to get past this? When the hell am I going to be over him?
“And pack warm clothes. They’re calling for some snow.”
“Of course they are. It’s Colorado. Doesn’t it snow year round there?”
“You’re bound and determined to hate every second of this, aren’t you?”
My lower lip pushes out into a pout, like it has a mind of its own. “Maybe. But no one said I had to enjoy it, just that I had to do it.”
“I guess I shouldn’t be quite this happy that you won’t be enjoying it. And him.”
Travers’s earlier entrance was like a needle to the balloon of tension that had formed between us, though, and now I feel the need to bolt when the man I used to love—and likely still do—says things like that to me.
“Well, lucky for you, what and who I enjoy—or don’t enjoy—are no longer your concern.”
For just a moment, Jake looks like I slapped him in the face. But then his normal business-like expression descends like a curtain, carefully concealing whatever he might be feeling.
“Safe travels, Dilyn.”
And just like that, he dismisses me, walking around me to circle his desk and plop down in his chair.
I smother my sigh and put on my most professional smile. “Thanks, boss. See you in three days.”
CHAPTER TWO
DASH
“How the hell do I let you talk me into this shit?”
“Look, man, it’s just an interview. Go do your thing, talk about yourself for an hour, and then enjoy the rest of the week at the chalet. Didn’t you say Bridgette’s coming the day after Christmas?”
Manny, my agent, knows about some of the women I keep company with on occasion. They’re never anything serious, just some beautiful and very…bendy distractions for a night here and there. But he has no shame in using some of those sporadic “perks” as he calls them to paint even the worst things in such a way that they sound like a vacation on a tropical island.
At least they sound that way at first.
But I’ve been with him long enough to know they’re almost always a bigger pain in the ass than he lets on. Luckily, he’s good at what he does, and he keeps the endorsements—and, therefore, the money—coming, so I can’t complain too much.
“Yeah, her flight gets in early that morning.”
Manny grins and elbows me. It’s the kind of grin I see from men all the time, the kind that says “you lucky bastard” because I get to have dirty sex with some of the hottest women in the world. “See? This is going to be much more pleasure than it is business. One hour. And you don’t even have to change clothes if you don’t want to. After that, you and Bridgette will have nothing but alone time. The two of you will be so secluded, you’ll wake up thinking you’re in Switzerland.”
I shoot him a look from the corner of my eye. “Why do I get the feeling I’m gonna wanna kick your ass when this is over?”
He holds his hands up, the picture of innocence. Which he is absolutely not. “It’s an hour-long interview. What could go wrong?”
Famous last words.
CHAPTER THREE
Dilyn
It’s taken me over half the day to reach Colorado and get a ride to the interview location, but I’m finally on the road.
“I hope you’re prepared to stay for a while,” the weathered old driver tells me as he competently (if a bit hurriedly) navigates the winding mountain road.
I glance out the window at the majestic, snow-covered mountains that rise up on every side like quiet, white sentinels. The jagged peaks seem to reach up and grab at the bright blue horizon, like dozens of gnarled fingers. I can easily think of a handful of words to describe the sky, but ominous is not one of them. Still, I don’t argue with the crusty old man. I simply shrug and say, “I don’t have any big plans I need to get back to, but thanks for the heads-up.”
“Can’t say I didn’t warn you,” he adds cryptically.
I dismiss his words as the typical townsfolk-trying-to-scare-the-tourist thing. But even if he’s right, I’ll just stay a few days longer. No big deal. In fact, it might be nice to stay locked away in a luxurious lodge for a few days, getting spa treatments and drinking hot toddies by a roaring fire. Anything to keep me away from home during the holidays. And this…this sounds so romantic.
Hmmmm.
Impulsively, I dig out my phone and pull up Jake’s number. Whether it’s the crisp mountain air, the suggestion of being snowed in, or the sensual residue of what almost happened in his office yesterday, I don’t know, but something prompts me to call him. And for purposes I haven’t called him for in two years. Not since we split. Not once have I given in to the urge to call him for a social reason. Or a romantic reason. Or a sexual reason. When he ended it and we decided to remain friendly enough to work together, I made up my mind to leave Jake in that category—just friends. Coworkers. Boss and employee. Nothing more. And I’ve managed to stick to that, regardless of how many times I’ve wanted to drag him back into my heart and my bed.
But the things he said in his office last night… We aren’t over for him yet either. And hearing him express his feelings for me… Well, that’s changed everything for me. It’s removed my restraints. Unlocked the cuffs. Torn down my walls.
That’s why I press send as my thumb hovers over his cell number.
I listen to the ring, frowning when I get his voicemail. Jake always answers his phone. Always.
Of course, it is the day before Christmas. Maybe his parents got into town early. I know for a fact that his mom would flip if he took a call while she was in the room. She’s very old-fashioned that way. Thinks cell phones are the devil and all that.
I grin, feeling mischievous all of a sudden. I redial his number, intending to leave him a scintillating message that he’
ll have to listen to at some point when he can check his phone. When he calls me back—which he’ll inevitably do after fighting off a boner in front of his super conservative mother—I’ll ask him if he wants to join me in Colorado for a couple of days so I can help him take care of that. What the hell. Why not? If he’s ready to jump back in, then I’m willing to give it another shot, too.
I’m taken by surprise when my call is answered. The line clicks and there’s a pause, during which I imagine Jake locking himself away in the bathroom so he doesn’t have to hear his mother bitch about him working too much.
But then a woman’s voice comes on the line.
“Hello?” It’s a breathless sound, something totally befitting of Marilyn Monroe.
Caught off guard, I stammer, “Oh, s-sorry. I must have dialed the wrong number.”
I’m getting ready to disconnect when the woman laughs, a low, sexy sound, and adds, “Oops! I mean Jake’s phone. How can I help you?”
In the background, I hear Jake’s voice. “Don’t answer my phone. Give it here.”
“Get back in bed,” the woman says. “I’ll come to you.”
I hang up, staring at the phone in my hand like it sprouted a head and two red demon eyes. I don’t look away for several long, awful seconds afterward.
My face burns with humiliation.
My heart spasms with pain.
Jake is seeing someone.
Obviously.
He didn’t even have the nerve, or the decency, to tell me.
I let the hand holding my phone drop into my lap as I turn my gaze back out to the passing landscape.
Bastard!
I was going to ask him to come to me. I can’t believe I was going to cave. After all this time, after all the distance I’ve finally managed to put between us emotionally, I was going to give in over a few simple comments he made.
Only the comments weren’t simple.
My lips thin with my rising anger. I feel them turn in against my teeth, teeth that are set on edge, upper gnashing against lower.