Snowbound with an Heiress

by Jennifer Faye

  He shook his head. “I was going stir-crazy.”

  “I take it you’re not one to sit around.”

  “Only if I’m doing research for a news story. But seeing as how there’s no internet and no phone service, that idea is out.”

  She was thanking her lucky stars for the lack of communication with the outside world. “I’m sure we’ll be able to get you out of here today. Your first stop should be the doctor’s or the hospital to have your leg checked.”

  Jackson glanced back out the window. “The snow is getting lighter, but there’s got to be at least three feet of it out there. If not more.”

  “What?” It wasn’t nearly that bad when she’d taken Gizmo outside last night, but it was more than her pampered pooch could appreciate. He definitely enjoyed his California sunshine. But then again, a lot of hours had passed since then.

  Serena rushed over to the window to have a look. Jackson wasn’t exaggerating. There were no signs of their footsteps from the prior evening. Between the snow and wind, any trace of them had been swept away.

  She turned back to Jackson to find him staring at her instead of the snow. Heat swirled in her chest. She was used to having men stare at her, so why was she having such a reaction to Jackson looking at her now?

  And then she realized that in her hurry to find out what had caused the massive tremors, she’d rushed downstairs without running a brush through her hair. Unlike his sexy appearance, she must look quite a mess.

  How did men wake up looking good? It was frustrating because her hair was always going in far too many directions and sticking straight out in other places. And then she started to wonder if she had drool in the corners of her mouth. A groan started deep inside, but she stifled it. But the heat rushing to her face was unstoppable.

  Just then Gizmo moved to the door and started to bark. She made a point of turning away from Jackson as though to talk to the dog. With one hand, she petted Gizmo. With the other hand, she ran her fingers around her mouth. She finally breathed a little easier.

  “It’s okay, boy. I’ll take you out in a minute.”

  “Out? Where?”

  “Lucky for me this cabin is fully prepared for anything. There’s a snow shovel on the side of the porch.”

  Serena dressed quickly and then fired up the generator. She stuffed her feet in a pair of snow boots that she’d picked up in the nearby village upon hearing the forecast. And then she put on her coat and pulled a white knit cap over her mussed-up hair.

  After attaching Gizmo’s leash, she turned back to Jackson. “After I take him out and shovel for a bit, I’ll get you some breakfast.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  She shrugged. “I’m going to need some breakfast after I shovel out the driveway. Or at least start on it. Suddenly that driveway looks very long.”

  Jackson’s face creased with frown lines. “You shouldn’t do all of that shoveling.”

  “Really? I don’t see anyone else around here to help dig us out.”

  A distinct frown formed on his handsome face. “I should be doing it.”

  “And how exactly would you manage to shovel snow on one leg?”

  “Maybe the sun will melt it.”

  “When? A month from now?”

  He sighed. “Okay. I’ll help you.”

  “No, you won’t.” She glared at him, hoping he’d understand her level of seriousness. “You’ll stay right here.”

  Not about to continue this pointless argument, she let herself out the door. The snow was light but the wind was still gusting. She could imagine that many of the mountain roads would be impassable and she didn’t even want to think of how the avalanche would delay Jackson’s departure.

  At least if she got the vehicle and the driveway dug out, once the roads were opened, she could get him to the village. She just had to hope that would happen sometime today. The longer they spent together, the harder it was to keep her true identity a secret.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HE FELT LIKE a caged tiger.

  Moving between the window and the couch was making his ankle throb. His conscience wouldn’t allow him any peace. He shouldn’t be inside this cozy cabin while Mae was outside doing all of the hard work. He felt awful. He’d never had a woman take care of him—not even his wife.

  When he’d first met June, she’d been a model and he’d been at the fashion show to do an interview. It was back when he just did spotlight interviews for an evening entertainment show. She was delicate and spoke with a soft voice. She was kind and thoughtful—the exact opposite of his mother.

  And in no time, he’d fallen for her. In just a few short months, they’d been married amid her family’s protests. With both of them driven by their passion for life and work, their futures were on the rise. Fueled by his determination and June’s encouragement, he’d taken on the anchor chair of Hello America within six months of their marriage. It appeared that nothing could stop them.

  And then a few years later, she’d received the life-altering diagnosis—she had cancer. He clearly remembered that day at the doctor’s office with an overhead light flickering, the slight sent of antiseptic in the air and June’s muffled cry. Jackson’s gut knotted as the memories washed over him. That day was when all their dreams and plans had fallen to the white tiled floor and shattered into a million sharp, jagged pieces.

  He’d dropped everything as they’d embarked on the fight of their lives. He’d needed to make sure she was always taken care of, whether it be surgery, a treatment or just being at home recovering from the side effects of her treatments. He’d turned his life upside down and inside out—not because he had to but rather because he wanted to be there for June.

  He had her favorite magazines on hand for her to thumb through, her favorite flavored water, chicken broth and movies. He’d never minded. He would have done anything for her. Just the memory of everything she’d endured because of that horrible disease made his stomach turn.

  And as much as he’d loved June, he could see now that she was so different from Mae. June never would have waited on him like Mae had the night before. But that was not exactly fair. Because June didn’t know how to cook, she would have called for delivery service.

  As for shoveling snow, June hadn’t believed in physical labor. It was the way she’d been raised, with a silver spoon in her mouth. And as luxurious as this cabin may be, June wouldn’t have voluntarily come here. She liked touring the small villages, but she preferred staying in the city or at the ski resorts. He’d never had a problem with her choices because when she had been happy, he’d been happy.

  But maybe there was more to life. A different way of being. Maybe happiness didn’t have to be a one-sided venture. A bit of give-and-take sounded appealing—

  Stop! What was he going on about this for? It wasn’t like he would ever see Mae and her glorious strawberry blonde hair after he got away from here. It still bothered him that he couldn’t place her face. You’d think that a knockout like Mae would stick out in his memory. Maybe it was the accident. He didn’t say anything to Mae because he didn’t want to worry her, but that had to be the source of his headaches and his fascination with her.

  In the three years, five months and eleven days that he’d been with June, he’d never willed her to be anything other than what she was—the woman that loved him. When she’d looked at him, the love had shone in her eyes. No one had ever looked at him that way. Their relationship may not have been perfect, but they’d found a way to make it work.

  He jerked his thoughts to a halt. What was the matter with him? Why was he comparing June to Mae?

  While Mae was nothing like June, there was something about her—a vulnerability that drew him near. She’d been wounded in the past and was leery of trusting him. They had that in common—the lack of trust. After havi
ng loved with all his heart and losing June so quickly, he was wary of letting anyone get close to him. Until now, he hadn’t given much thought to how he kept people at arm’s length. Maybe it was something they both needed to work on.

  Jackson made his way to the kitchen. He may not be any help outside, but he could still whip up a mean breakfast. He pulled open the fridge door to find the shelves loaded with food. Wow! This place was certainly well stocked, or else his beautiful hostess had bought a lot of food for just herself and her dog.

  Leaning on one leg tired him quickly, but he refused to give in. He would have a lovely meal ready for Mae. She deserved it. He just wished it would ease his guilty conscience, but preparing breakfast with bacon, eggs, hash browns and pancakes did not even come close to the task of shoveling all that snow.

  But thanks to Mae’s efforts, he’d soon be getting out of here. The storm was almost over and the road would be opened. And none too soon because he still had to film the segments for the holiday special. He had no idea where his crew was, but they were resilient. He was certain they would have hunkered down for the storm. And as soon as the cell phone service was reestablished, they’d make contact.

  However, the holiday special was bothering him. He was better than puff pieces. He wanted to do more substantial segments—the type of investigative reporting that they featured on the evening news. But before he could do that, he had to get a story that would grab the network bigwigs’ attention.

  He thought of the avalanche. That was a story, but without something more like hikers or skiers trapped, it wouldn’t go anywhere. Instead of playing where-in-the-world-is-Jackson? he needed to be tracking down a headline-making story—

  “What smells so good?”

  He turned from his place at the stove to find Mae standing in the doorway. But she was frowning, not smiling like he’d envisioned. “What’s the matter? Did you hurt yourself?”

  “The problem is you. You shouldn’t be in here hobbling around.”

  “I figured you’d work up an appetite.”

  “I told you I would make food when I came inside.”

  “And I thought I would surprise you. So...surprise.” He grinned brightly, hoping to lighten the mood.

  And still there was no smile on her face. It bothered him because she was so gorgeous when she smiled. He remembered how hard it used to be to make June smile when she got in one of her moods. But he’d always persevered until he won out and eventually June would smile at him. Because when he’d said his wedding vows, he’d meant every single word. He would not get a divorce like his parents. He would not fail.

  But Mae was not June. Why should he care if she smiled or not?

  “Go sit down. I’ll finish this,” she said.

  “It’s done. I just have to put this last pancake on the plate. By the way, your fridge was well stocked. I hope you don’t mind that I helped myself.”

  She washed up and then followed him to the kitchen table. “No. I was worried that it would all go bad. So thanks for helping me to put it to good use.”

  Once they were seated at the table next to a bank of windows, Mae’s gaze skimmed over all the serving dishes heaped with food. “Who’s going to eat all of this?”

  “Arff! Arff!”

  They both laughed at Gizmo’s quick response.

  “It appears that Gizmo worked up an appetite, too,” Jackson said.

  “I don’t know how that could be when he spent the entire time sitting on the porch. He refused to get off it, even after I shoveled out an area in the yard just for him.”

  Gizmo yawned and whined at the same time.

  They both smiled at the animated pooch. Maybe Gizmo wasn’t so bad—at least when he wasn’t running loose and causing car accidents.

  As they each filled their plate, Mae asked, “So what had you so distracted when I walked in?”

  “Distracted?” It took him a moment to recall what she was talking about.

  “You had a very serious look on your face.”

  “Oh, I was thinking about work.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to relax? Isn’t this a vacation?”

  He shook his head. “I came here to work.”

  Was it his imagination or did Mae’s face visibly drain of color. “Um, what’s your assignment?” And then as though she realized that she might be prying, she said, “Sorry. I don’t mean to be pushy.”

  “It’s okay. I’m doing a Christmas special. You know, a sort of Christmas around the world. I already did one in Ireland, Japan and now Austria. Well, that depends on if I ever find my camera crew after this storm.” He glanced out the window. “Hey, the snow is just flurries now.”

  “That’s good, because let me tell you, there’s a ton of snow out there.” She sighed. “You know, I’ve worked up such an appetite that I could eat all of this food.”

  “Go ahead.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “Sure you can. In fact, I can make more.”

  “Don’t tempt me. But really, I can’t.”

  “Don’t tell me that you’re dieting.”

  She shrugged. “Okay. I won’t tell you.”

  “What does someone as beautiful as you have to diet for?” He wanted to tell her that she could stand to put on a few pounds, but he didn’t dare. He didn’t want her to take it the wrong way.

  “So I fit in my clothes. But I think I can squeeze in a little more after that exercise this morning.” Her gaze met his. “You’re a really good cook.”

  He continued to stare into her green eyes. “I’ve had a lot of experience.”

  He didn’t bother to add that after his parents divorced, his mother wasn’t around much as she had to bounce between two and sometimes three jobs to make ends meet. And so he did the bulk of the cooking. And then with June, she didn’t know how to cook and so he’d taken on the role as he enjoyed creating delicious meals that were healthy and nutritious.

  “If your job on television ever falls through, you could become a chef.”

  He smiled at the compliment. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. It might come in handy.”

  * * *

  Now what was she supposed to do?

  Serena stared out the window at the snowy landscape. They still hadn’t plowed open the road and there was no way that she could drive through three feet plus of snow. She would have to have a monster truck with chains on the tires and even then she doubted that she’d make it out of the driveway.

  With a heavy sigh, she accepted that there was nothing she could do for now. Instead of wasting her energy worrying about Jackson’s presence, she needed to concentrate on writing a screenplay.

  This was her chance to make a name for herself that had nothing to do with her looks or the legacy her two famous parents had left her. And time was running out because sooner than she’d like, she had to return to Hollywood to begin filming her next movie. The contract had been inked months ago and to back out at this late date would tarnish her name in the industry, not to mention the penalties she’d be subjected to for failure to perform.

  But most of all, she took pride in standing by her word. When she said she’d do something, she did it. So not only would she do the movie, but she would also get this screenplay written over the holiday break—before she went back and faced the public scandal of her life.

  She wanted to find a place on the second floor to write—away from Jackson. But she was still worried about him. His injury was serious, and he was overdoing things. Try as she might to keep him in bed, he never stayed more than five minutes at a time.

  There was a desk with a lamp in the corner of the great room and that was where Serena took a seat with her laptop. This was one of those five-minute periods where Jackson was in the bedroom with his foot up. Gizmo was lying on a padd
ed bench next to the window, watching the snow blow around in between snoozes. Now was her chance to get some work done.

  She opened her laptop and after she logged in, her script popped up on the screen. She quickly read over what she’d written last night before she went to sleep. It didn’t sound too bad, but something was missing. She just couldn’t put her finger on what it was. Perhaps if she kept going, it would come to her. She hoped.

  Serena’s fingers moved rapidly over the keyboard. This screenplay might not be a serious drama, but it wasn’t slapstick comedy, either. It was filled with heart. For now, writing about a warm family with a central love story and a happily-ever-after made her happy. It was about a loving but complicated family that she wished she’d been a part of. In the future, she intended to work on screenplays with more serious scenarios.

  She paused and smiled. Perhaps writing an award-worthy screenplay wasn’t as important as writing the story of her heart. Who knew, maybe it’d be prize-worthy after all. It might be a little zealous, but wasn’t that what dreams were meant for?

  For now, she’d chosen a shopaholic heroine and her large, boisterous family. Her ex-boyfriend needed a wife to keep his wealthy grandmother from writing him out of her will and leaving it all to her favorite pet charity. The hero was all about getting the money and pretending to be what his grandmother wanted him to be that he missed the point that money couldn’t make you happy. And the heroine had to learn that a bigger wardrobe and a larger apartment wouldn’t change who she was and that she hasdto accept herself, blemishes and all.

  The more Serena typed, the more she worried whether she was going in the right direction with the plotline. Still, she kept pushing forward one word at a time—one sentence after the next—

  Knock. Knock.

  She jumped. She’d been so involved in her script that she hadn’t heard anyone approach the door. Gizmo must have been sound asleep, too, because it wasn’t until the knock that he starting barking as he scrambled to the door.

  Serena jumped to her feet. “Gizmo, quiet.”