Christmas with the Maverick Millionaire

by Scarlet Wilson

  She’d never been in a situation like this before, itching to talk about something but having to stay quiet. It was weird.

  There was a noise outside and her stomach gave a little flip-flop. There was only one other person in this house. He hadn’t been kidding. It was almost exactly six and Mitchell Brody was up and around.

  ‘Knock, knock.’ The low, sexy voice nearly made her jump a foot in the air. Without waiting for an answer, the door creaked open and Mitchell stuck his head inside. She bolted upright in bed and pulled the covers up underneath her chin. This must be what mild shock felt like; her tongue was currently stuck to the roof of her mouth.

  He was smiling, obviously feeling better. He didn’t seem to notice her lack of response. ‘Hi, there. Gorgeous view, isn’t it?’ She nodded in agreement. She could hardly disagree. Mitchell was looking bright and sparky and from what she could see was dressed for the slopes. She, on the other hand, was wearing next to nothing.

  She was trying not to panic. The easiest thing in the world was to drop back into nurse mode. ‘Have you checked your blood sugar this morning? What about breakfast?’

  Nurse mode put her on autopilot and before she’d given herself a chance to think about it she threw back the thick duvet cover and bent forward to look for her slippers.

  She heard a noise. His sharp intake of breath before she realised what she’d done. Her short red satin slip of a nightie had obviously just given him an eyeful. Her hand darted up to press against her cleavage, trying to keep the garment firmly in place. ‘Oh... I, I need to put something else on.’

  But what? She’d collapsed on the bed last night with hardly a chance to open her suitcase. Thankfully, her nightie had been on top. But she couldn’t even see a glimpse of the underwear she desperately needed right now.

  Mitchell had the good grace to look away. But she could see the smile plastered on his face. Yip. He’d definitely got an eyeful. ‘There’s a dressing gown in the en suite if that will help,’ he murmured. ‘But don’t feel obliged on my account.’

  The heat rushed to her cheeks. Six o’clock in the morning and he was starting with his trademark cheek. He was going to have to learn that Samantha Lewis was not a morning person.

  She walked quickly to the en suite and found the white fluffy robe hanging behind the door. She shrugged it on and tied the belt around her waist, trying not to think if someone else had worn it before her. There. Better. Being covered gave her the confidence boost she needed. Mitchell Brody was usually surrounded by a bunch of skeletal supermodels. She was surprised he hadn’t passed out at the sight of some more womanly curves. She was lucky, naturally slim with maybe a tiny trace of cellulite. But absolutely nowhere near a supermodel frame. He didn’t need to like it, though, because all that mattered was how she did her job.

  She took thirty seconds to brush her teeth and didn’t even waste her time looking in the mirror. What was the point? He was still waiting at the doorway as she walked over and put her hands on her hips. ‘Now, where were we?’

  He shot her a sexy smile. ‘You were trying to decide if you should get dressed around me.’ The drawl of his voice sent her saliva glands into overload. If her mouth hadn’t been firmly closed she would have drooled. She didn’t speak. Just gave him what she thought was a haughty stare and raised her eyebrows.

  He blinked. ‘Blood sugar seven. I’ve had breakfast and taken my insulin. It’s time to hit the slopes before it starts to get busy.’ He waggled his finger at her. ‘You’ll have to get up earlier if you want breakfast here, Sam.’

  Her stomach gave an automatic growl. She didn’t like to miss breakfast and it felt like she was being reprimanded on her first day on the job. Cheeky sod.

  ‘What did you eat for breakfast and how much insulin did you take?’

  He frowned, his smile disappearing in an instant. ‘I told you. My blood sugar is fine.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I’m hitting the slopes. You can come if you want to. I’m not sure when I’ll be back.’

  She felt a wave of panic. There was no way she could hit the slopes next to him, but what if Mitch had a hypo while skiing? That could be disastrous.

  ‘No.’ It came out like a shout and she cringed inside. ‘You’re not ready to do anything like that. You need to wait a few more days until your blood-sugar levels are steadier. Then we’ll talk about exercise and the effect it has on blood-sugar control, and what you need to do. You were only diagnosed a few days ago. It’s far too soon.’ Her voice was sounding much more authoritative than she actually felt. Her insides were curling up.

  The furrows across his brow deepened, accompanied with a spark of fury in his eyes. ‘Look, lady, I don’t care what you say. The slopes are perfect and I won’t be missing a second. If you want to watch me, come along. If you don’t...’ he pointed towards the still-warm bed ‘...feel free to go back to bed.’

  He turned on his heel and left, leaving her to scuttle down the corridor after him in her bare feet. ‘Mitchell, wait. I wasn’t joking. Do you have food with you? Something to eat if you start to hypo on the slopes? Don’t you realise how dangerous that could be for the other people around you?’

  She was trying desperately to appeal to his sense of justice. Trying to make him slow down for a second. Trying anything to stop him heading for the slopes with her having to follow.

  But Mitchell was a man on a mission. There was the briefest hesitation—as if he was giving some consideration to her words—before he clenched his jaw. Everything about him changed, his whole stance tense. The words were controlled but the strain was apparent. ‘I’m done with this. See you on the slopes.’

  He grabbed something from the countertop then threw open the door, bringing in an icy blast before he disappeared out into the swirls of freshly falling snow. She shouted after him, ‘I’ll meet you at the mid-station at seven!’

  She took a few deep breaths as the skin prickled on her legs. The fluffy dressing gown was no match for the weather outside that currently circulated in chills around her pale skin. She slammed the door quickly, her brain frantic.

  Should she throw on her clothes and try and follow him? Had he even heard her? Where on earth had he gone? She didn’t even know the way to the ski slopes, let alone anything else.

  Her eyes caught sight of what was lying on the counter. A packet of chocolate wafers, with a few missing. She smiled. She breathed the slightest sigh of relief. It might not be ideal, but it was something. He’d grabbed some before he’d left.

  She made up her mind. She had the clothes. There were no excuses. She might not be able to ski, but she could be in and around the slopes. There was no way she could sit around here. Right now, she’d no idea if Mitchell intended to ski for an hour or all day.

  And his attitude irked her. Mitchell Brody had a lot of learning to do. She flicked the switch on the kettle. The coffee machine looked inviting but she’d no idea how to work it. She’d investigate it later.

  The clock on the wall showed six-fifteen. She could shower, dress and have a quick cup of tea before she left. Wherever Mitchell Brody had gone, she could find him.

  She was used to dealing with teenager tantrums. A rock star in a bad mood? He would have nothing on those.

  Suddenly there was huge boom. The noise was deafening and the glasses in the cupboards around her rattled. What now?

  * * *

  The air was perfect, crisp, clear and icy cold. The snow around him untouched—just waiting for that first winding ski track to mar its complexion. The ski conditions were better than he could’ve expected. It paid to have people in the know.

  For a little extra cash he’d managed to persuade the cable-car operator to start early and he’d been up and down the Hafelekar slope twice. The Nordkette off-piste could be dangerous, with risk of avalanche and warnings posted everywhere stating the falls could be fatal.

/>   But Mitchell knew these slopes like the back of his hand. He enjoyed mornings like this. Most days at this time it was only the die-hard skiers on the slopes. The thunderous detonations that reverberated around the valley in the Nordpark area were the sign that there had been a fresh dump of snow. It was like music to his ears. An early-morning wake-up call that he loved.

  Even the exposed walk along the mountain ridge to the Karrine was invigorating at this time of day. From here, the highest point of the mountain, he could ski to the Seegrube mid-station, one third of the way down the mountain, then on down one of the lengthy red runs through the trees back down to the Hungerburg area. It was his idea of heaven. And Samantha was trying to spoil it for him.

  Skiing was the best part of the day. He enjoyed the solitude of the slopes. On the ski slopes he could forget about everything. As a child it had been a source of pure enjoyment. As an adult, it had brought back memories of happier times. The last few runs had been different. It had been like transporting himself into another world. One where his head wasn’t pickled with thoughts of injections, doses, sugar levels and a whole host of other things he really didn’t have the energy to think about right now. Swooshing down the clean white slopes could do that for him—lift the dark pressing cloud from his head and shoulders.

  He had no idea where Samantha was. And he couldn’t help but feel irritated. He couldn’t shake the black mood that was circling around him. What did diabetes have to do with skiing? He hated anything interfering with his skiing. The fact that it was even on his mind as he was flying down the slopes grated. Nearly as much as last night’s memory of a pair of bright blue eyes and a curved behind in a pair of denims that hugged in all the right places. And if he even gave a thought to the flash of bare breasts this morning he’d be done for.

  This place was his haven. There was an invisibility to being on the slopes. With his hat and ski goggles on it was virtually impossible for anyone to recognise him. That was part of the reason he loved being around here so much. He didn’t want anything to affect that. Checking blood sugars on a mountainside? It just didn’t seem practical, no matter what his nurse might think.

  He’d tried a little gentle flirting with Samantha last night. He hadn’t been able to help it. It had been a natural reaction to being around a gorgeous woman. And Samantha Lewis was definitely in the gorgeous category—she was wasted being a nurse.

  For a few minutes she’d almost flirted back. He liked it that she had a cheeky side. He’d spent too long around females who had no idea how to laugh at themselves and with those around them.

  A bump on the slopes brought his attention back to the here and now. He bent a little lower, curving into the turns on the piste. He could hear the swish of a snowboard close behind him and see another few people at the bottom of the slope. Within the next hour the ski runs would start to get busy. Nordpark was a little unusual, ideal for beginners or extreme skiers, with very little for intermediate ones. He couldn’t even guess what stage Samantha was at. But from the expression on her face last night she’d looked shocked at the mere mention of skiing.

  She shouldn’t be. He’d stipulated in his request for the perfect nurse that he needed someone who was able to accompany him on the slopes.

  There she was. In his brain again. Where was this coming from?

  He slowed, sweeping to a halt at the bottom of the run. His heart was pounding in his ears, the skin on his cheeks smarting from the cold air. The Seegrube mid-station was a little busier, even though it was still before eight.

  The smell of breakfast wafted out to meet him as he stood for a few seconds on the terrace overlooking the valley. Mornings were gorgeous, but it was also beautiful up here in the early evening in the dimming light, with views from the restaurant all over the valley down to Innsbruck. Maybe he would bring her up here later.

  And then he spotted it. The bright blue jacket and matching hat emerging from one of the cable cars. He was just about to walk over to one of the red runs and carry on down the slopes, but he could see her head darting around, looking everywhere to see if she could spot him. Where were her skis? He was getting a bad feeling about this. Could they still be in the cable car? This woman was beginning to exasperate him.

  He unclipped his boots, and carried his skis and poles over towards her. But Samantha had stopped looking for him. She was too busy staring down the valley at the view. The cable-car building exited onto a terrace with spectacular views, and most people who came off the cable car came to an automatic halt as the sight took their breath away.

  He could see the look of awe across her face, almost visible beneath her scowl. There was a little surge of pride in his chest. It seemed important that she like the surrounding area just as much as he did. They were nineteen hundred feet up here and the whole of Innsbruck was laid out beneath them like a miniature toy village. At the bottom of the mountain people moved around like ants, queuing for the cable cars, with some flashes of intermittent colour as skiers and snowboarders wound their way down the slopes.

  He put his skis and poles over in a corner and walked up behind her. ‘See something you like?’

  She jumped and turned around, her nose almost brushing against his ski jacket. She lifted her head and frowned. She didn’t look happy at all. ‘Where on earth have you been, Mitchell? I told you I’d meet you here. I’ve been up and down on that cable car twice.’ The tone of her voice was like that of a schoolteacher he’d had years ago. He hadn’t liked her.

  It was amazing how this woman could make him mad within a few seconds.

  ‘Meeting up was your idea, not mine. And I never agreed to anything.’

  She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Do you know what, Mitchell? You seem to be forgetting that—like it or not—I’m your nurse.’ She pointed to her chest. ‘You are under my care. You might be used to being the boss, but things have changed.’

  It was amazing, the talent she had to really rile him and make his blood fizz with pure anger in his veins.

  ‘Who do you think you are? You aren’t in charge of me. I’m employing you, remember?’

  She shook her head. ‘You might be footing the bill but until you’ve got this condition under control, you have to do what I say.’

  ‘I don’t have to do anything,’ he spat back, making a few people near them turn around.

  ‘Look, buddy, I’m the one that makes the decision about whether you’re fit to do your tour or not. And not following my instructions? That isn’t going to win you any prizes with me.’

  He leaned forward, growling at her, ‘I’m not your buddy.’ It was the only coherent thing he could say right now. All meaningful arguments and sarcastic comments had sprinted from his brain in a fit of anger.

  She sighed and rolled her eyes and he realised how pathetic he must be sounding. This woman made him feel like a naughty teenager. It had been a long time since someone had made him feel like that. He almost laughed out loud. No matter how much she was driving him crazy, she had a real spark about her. It was obvious she genuinely didn’t care who he was. There was no way she was taking orders from him.

  It was refreshing. He’d spent the last few years with everyone around him jumping to do his bidding. It was amazing what money could buy you.

  She pointed over her shoulder towards the restaurant. ‘I’m sincerely hoping that this snarkiness of yours is a symptom of hypo and not a personality trait. Because if it is...’ she lifted her eyebrows ‘...buddy, you and I are about to board a roller-coaster. Now, let’s eat, I’m starving. Some of us didn’t get to eat breakfast this morning.’

  And she didn’t wait. She stalked off in front of him and into the canteen.

  When was the last time that had happened? He shook his head and followed her, trying not to look at her butt in those jeans.

  They walked through the glass doors and he was quickly ass
aulted by the familiar smell of roasting coffee beans, bacon and sweet pastries. Breakfast at the restaurant catered for all tastes.

  He took a deep breath. If he played his cards right, he could get this over and done with in quick time. Then he might actually be able to hit the slopes again, and hopefully shake her off for the afternoon. He had things to do. It was time for the charm offensive—even if he didn’t really mean it. He held out his hands and spun around. ‘So, Sam, what do you fancy?’

  She blushed. Instantly. The colour flooded into her cheeks. It was good for her. Out in the cold her skin had been even paler than before—this way she had colour about her.

  The heat in her cheeks was matched by the rush of blood around his body. He’d been joking, of course he had. But, from the looks it, the thought of Mitchell as anything other than a patient had at least crossed her mind. That was good enough for him.

  She hesitated. ‘We really should sit somewhere and check your blood sugar. That’s why I’m here. To make sure you don’t run into any problems on the mountain.’ Was she saying this out loud for his benefit or for hers?

  ‘And how do you expect to do that in those?’ He pointed at her flat rubber-soled boots, before looking around again. ‘Where are your skis anyway?’

  ‘Let’s do this first.’ She grabbed a tray and headed along the short line in the restaurant and he followed reluctantly. His stomach gave a growl. He was feeling hungry again, even though he’d had breakfast this morning. Then he remembered something else. The look on her face last night when he’d mentioned skiing. He’d assumed she just hadn’t welcomed the early start. But now it was adding up to something else entirely.

  There could be an opportunity to take Ms Bossy Boots down a peg or two. This could actually be fun.

  Just then a group of boisterous boarders came flooding through the glass doors. It was obvious they were on the adrenaline high of just having finished a run. There were no manners, no decorum, it was almost like a bull stampede. Three of them jostled and knocked into Sam, all of them talking at the tops of their voices and not even noticing what they’d done.