Snow and Seduction (A Holiday Romance)

by Evelyn Moreau

  “Excellent. I’ll have a fresh cup waiting for you. The cabin will be on your right side, ma’am. See you shortly.”

  She accelerated through the gate and passed a few small villas and a massive mansion. She kept driving on the path. Five minutes later she pulled up to a stunning, romantic winter cabin.

  It was an English-style country cottage on steroids. The façade was all stone and wood. Exactly how she imagined a winter getaway to be. White holiday lights bordered the windows and front door. Fresh powdered snow glistened on the roof under the moonlight.

  She parked and hopped out of the vehicle with her duffle bags in tow. This place was a winter wonderland. It was massive.

  The male voice with the British accent from before called out to her. “Welcome to the Winter Cabin Experience at Holly Cottage, Ms. Notyce.”

  Kennedy’s gaze snapped to stealthy man standing on the porch. She stared at the older man and waited for him to continue.

  He walked down the steps of the porch to stand in front of her. “I am Gretzky Clarke, head steward of the entire estate and the host for your stay at the cottage. May I take your bags?” he asked, with a hand outstretched.

  Gretzky was impeccably dressed. Flawless, really. He was older, maybe in his late forties, with a full head of thick gray hair. She described him in her head as an upscale lumberjack frosted in silver. He fit the scenery perfectly.

  Without a second thought she gave him the larger of her bags. Time to get out of the cold. Her foot landed on the first step when Gretzky cleared his throat. She looked back to see he hadn’t moved a muscle

  “M’aam.” He held out his free hand, palm upwards.

  She was an idiot. “Right. You need a tip. Give me one second to dig in my purse and find some cash.”

  He raised his brows. “That won’t be necessary. I need your cell phone.”

  That stopped her in her tracks. She looked at him with wide eyes, hoping to appear innocent and a touch naïve. “I’ll just turn it off. See?”

  Gretzky looked irritatingly calm and unbothered. What a drag that he seemed hellbent on following the rules to the letter. She had hoped they could be friends.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I’ll have to insist. It’s a condition of the contract you signed.”

  She rolled her eyes. “But maybe you can make an exception? My abuelita, my grandmother, is very sick. She’s on the verge of hospice care. I need my phone.”

  “I’m truly sorry Ms. Notyce but rules are rules. It’d be a pity if you drove such a long way just to turn around. However, it is completely your choice.”

  She kicked at a pile of snow. “Fine.” She held out her phone and Gretzky plucked the phone from her fingers.

  “Thank you. Now, let’s get you settled in your room. Once you warm up, I can give you a tour of the grounds.”

  Moments later, she was whisked inside. Thank God. Every inch of her skin was on the verge of frostbite.

  “So, Holly Cottage has two floors. The main level includes the kitchen, game room, living room, and an impressive library. And there’s a sauna and jacuzzi too. Upstairs are the living quarters where you and the other guest will stay. Each of your rooms has a fireplace. Oh, and the lake has frozen quite nicely if you’re up for ice skating.”

  Kennedy followed the spritely Brit up the stairs to the second floor. Gretzky brought Kennedy to her bedroom and she looked around, impressed by the size.

  “I think I’m in heaven,” she cooed.

  Gretzky chuckled. “I do hope the room is suitable for your stay.”

  She snorted. Suitable? Compared to her broom closet of an apartment, this was a penthouse. The room was spacious but cozy. A red robe rested on the bed and a fresh mug of hot chocolate waited for her on the mantle of the fireplace.

  Despite herself, she made a beeline for the hot chocolate like a starved cat. It was decadent. The entire cabin was decadent.

  Her stomach grumbled loudly. Hot chocolate was delicious, but it wasn’t a meal.

  His lips twitched. “Right. That would be my cue to start preparing dinner.”

  “I haven’t eaten since I left the city,” she said sheepishly.

  “You must be starved. Not to worry, I’ll have a proper meal ready in under an hour.”

  Before she could ask what was on the menu, there was a loud pounding. Someone was knocking on the front door of the cottage.

  “That must be the other guest,” Gretzky said before heading downstairs.

  Moments later a familiar voice let loose a horrible Ricky Ricardo imitation, “Honey, I’m home!”

  Kennedy crept closer to the door of her bedroom. Kennedy knew that voice. She heard Gretzky greet the newcomer. Then two pairs of footsteps travelled from the front door up to second floor.

  “Has the other guest arrived yet?” the newcomer asked.

  Gretzky answered him. “She has. She’s settling into her room. Will you be ready for dinner in thirty minutes?”

  That voice had been haunting her dreams for the last few nights.

  She pinched herself. Nope, this wasn’t a dream. What the hell was he doing here? Why was the universe conspiring against her?

  The voice answered Gretzky’s question loudly. “Hell yes. I’m starving. Didn’t have time to eat before my flight.”

  Of course, the spoiled prick booked a plane ticket for an interstate trip.

  Scowling and clutching her mug of hot chocolate, she headed towards the men’s voices. She didn’t have to walk far. She found them just as the duo slipped out of the hallway and into another room.

  She pushed the door open, hoping that her suspicions wouldn’t be confirmed. No such luck. El me hace la boca agua.

  A mountain of mouthwatering man greeted her. He was wearing jeans, a gray Henley shirt that stretched over taut muscles. His blonde hair was tucked under a matching beanie.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she growled at him.

  Luke turned around slowly to face her, reinforcing the tingling feeling she had in the pit of her stomach. The look of surprise on his face was laughable.

  “Kennedy?” Luke took a few uncertain steps towards her.

  She snorted. “In the flesh.”

  His eyes went wide, and then the fucker grinned. Grinned! The audacity. “Well, if it isn’t the barracuda in Balenciaga. What are you doing here?”

  “Are you stalking me?” she hissed, ignoring his question to ask him one of her own.

  He huffed out a laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just as shocked to see you here. Though I must say, having a gorgeous woman waiting for me at a cabin is definitely not a bad thing.”

  He winked at her.

  A magnetic buzz of awareness charged the air. He gave her a once over that made it clear that he liked what he saw. Blatant masculine appreciation radiated from his blue eyes as he took in her skintight all-white outfit.

  Suddenly, the room felt a smidge too small.

  Gretzky cleared his throat, shaking her out of her reverie. “I’ll set the dinner table for two.”

  “Don’t bother. Luke isn’t staying.”

  Luke narrowed his eyes. “Like hell I am, Kenn. The snow is coming down so hard I barely made it in. No way I’m leaving. Not until the week is up.” He surrendered his bags to Gretzky and the older man left the living room. “Is that for me?”

  “What? No. It’s mine, don’t touch–”

  Too late. The buffoon wrapped his cold fingers around her hand still clinging to the warm mug. Her ever-helpful libido decided to make an appearance, heating the flesh between her thighs. She gave him a look of annoyance.

  He bit his lip and leaned towards her. “You wouldn’t deprive an almost frozen man of a sip of your chocolate, would you?”

  The jerk was playing dirty. His not-at-all innocent words sent her body temperature. Instead of fighting him, she relinquished the damn mug.

  Luke took a sip. “Delicious.” A slow, pleased grin spread across his face. “Though not
exactly the chocolate I had in mind,” he said.

  The smug arch of his brow and the hint of his damn dimple told her he was fully aware of what he was insinuating.

  She was determined to wipe that smile off of his face. “Never happening. You know what? Keep the mug. I’ll just have Gretzky make another one.”

  She had to get out of here. Each millisecond she spent in the presence of his charm only made her more pliable. He was such a beautiful fucking man. She was such a weak woman.

  Walk away. Fast. Run, damn it.

  Her panties were already practically inching down her thighs, begging to come off.

  Without another word she pivoted towards the hallway to find Gretzky. She’d have to insist that he spike her mug with rum.

  “Running off so soon? Can’t say I’m surprised. Running scared was always your modus operandi.”

  Chapter 9

  Luke couldn’t believe his fucking luck.

  This all had to be some mistake. A grave mix up.

  There was no way Santa would betray him like this. Trapped all alone for a week with the one woman he was hoping he could forget until January? What a backstabber.

  I hope Mrs. Clause takes your fat ass for all your worth.

  For the past week, he’d struggled to get his feelings under control. All because of one woman.

  Besides that, his caseload had exploded. Several new clients had retained his firm’s services. He wasn’t surprised. With the new year around the corner, many unhappy couples realized that yuletide made for a great time to explore divorce. Who wanted to raise a glass of champagne at midnight to a broken marriage?

  The frisson of anticipation vibrated in his chest as he packed his suitcase earlier this morning. But hours later, as the day ran away from him, his optimism went down the toilet.

  Luke would have preferred to head to the cabin during the day, but work got in the way. His staff was all too happy to see his cranky ass leave. Luke had to admit, the prospect of escaping his clients for a week filled him with a mix of anxiety and contentment.

  The private backroads were barely manageable. By the time he made it to the cabin, it was pitch black outside and it seemed like a full blizzard was underway. The unexpected lengthy drive made him sleepy, hungry, and irritable.

  The compound was gorgeous. The cabin itself wasn’t really a cabin. It was far too elegant to be relegated to just a cabin. Entering the cabin, he was surrounded by elegance and opulence. Definitely old money.

  Then to top it off, he smelled peaches. His favorite fruit, true, but also the scent of one particular woman that wouldn’t stay buried in his past. Her scent was unique, and his nose turned into that of a bloodhound whenever it got a whiff. Peaches with a hint of coconut. It was probably just her conditioner, but he didn’t care. The scent had been his favorite since he smelled it on her at law school.

  Moments before she trudged in the room on a warpath, he felt her presence. And here he was, face-to-face with a vixen that hypnotized his trouser-snake without even trying. It was always like this. Him enthralled with her presence, her none the wiser, and his dick fighting to escape his pants.

  Whether he liked it or not, and whether she wanted to admit it or not, they had chemistry. The type of chemistry that was combustible if pent-up for too long.

  “Sweet baby Jesus, why couldn’t it be anyone other than you?” he heard her ask under her breath. Facing him, her molten coffee eyes narrowed.

  Even spitting mad, she was attractive. Fucking beautiful. The magnetic pull between them was unnatural. Risky.

  “Kennedy,” he said, his voice softer than intended. “Calm down, I was only joking. Kind of.”

  She was full on pouting now. “I wasn’t running off.”

  “You’re right. It was more of a jog. A step below a sprint,” he said deadpanned.

  “Fuck off. First, I was tricked into working with you on the Jones’ divorce settlement. Now this? Can I get a fucking break?” she asked more to herself than to him.

  What the hell? “How is you taking on Madeleine my fault? You don’t even practice divorce law!”

  She shook her head. “Never mind, it’s not important. What is important is that I’d rather be anywhere, and with anyone else, than stuck here with you.”

  The insult was so full of ice it staggered him. He wasn’t sure why that barb hurt him, but it did. It was hypocritical and stupid since he was just cursing an imaginary fat man in red for being stuck here with her too.

  He dropped his smile. Exhaustion set in quickly. “Kenn, I’m fucking tired. Can we wait until tomorrow to insult each other? I promise I’ll have some good comebacks lined up.”

  Her expression darkened. “Don’t call me that,” she muttered weakly.

  In a different time, and a different place, she used to like when he called her that. When he was deep inside her, claiming handfuls of her juicy ass or her heavy tits.

  “Whatever you say barracuda.”

  “Don’t call me that either,” she whined.

  His patience wore thin. “Look, dinner should be almost ready. Do you think we can make it through a meal together?”

  She sighed. “I’m willing to put up with you if food is part of the deal.”

  “How big of you. Lead the way, barracuda,” he said teasingly.

  “Asshole.”

  He followed her down the hall, hypnotized by the round, pert globes of her ass. There was no way around it. She was stacked. The white denim stretched over her backside like it was a second skin.

  He bit the inside of his cheek, picturing those plump cheeks jiggling as he pounded into her furiously from behind. Trailing a comfortable pace behind her, he adjusted his erection in his pants.

  Gretzky had arranged quite the spread. Two table settings were arranged in the dining room overlooking the massive backyard and the pond.

  Kennedy and Luke watched the steward light a few candles in the middle of the table. It created a romantic vibe that was neither necessary, nor wanted.

  Gretzky finally noticed them. “Good, you’re here. Please, come sit. Eat.”

  “Can we kill the candles and turn the lights on? The ambiance makes this situation seem so…intimate.”

  Luke caught her gaze. “The man went through all this trouble to feed us. A few candles won’t kill us. Right?”

  With a sigh, she let it go. Luke gathered that she knew fighting would only prolong her hunger. He went to the table prepared for them and took the seat closest to the patio door. He let her have the seat with the perfect view of the snowy backyard.

  Once seated, he reached for the glasses of red wine and handed her one.

  “To our first night together.” He lifted his glass, inviting her to toast.

  “You make it sound like this is a date,” she scowled, cupping her glass.

  He smirked at her. “Isn’t it? We’re in the middle of scenic upstate at a candlelit dinner. We might as well be on a date.”

  “Only in your dreams.” She raised her glass up to his. “And my nightmares,” she muttered.

  They clinked glasses and took a sip. Neither one conceded eye contact until they both lowered their drink. She was looking at him again. Studying him intently with something akin to sheer provacation.

  Gretzky made his presence know, walking up to the table and explaining the menu. “I’ve prepared a rosemary pork loin with buttery mashed potatoes. For dessert, I have a chocolate soufflé on standby in the kitchen. Please enjoy the meal.”

  Their eyes connected over the pork. One thing he’d learned about her was never to stand between her and food. The woman fed herself like it was an Olympic sport. Yet her figure was never less than incredible.

  “Sounds heavenly. Thanks, Gretzky.” She smiled at Gretzky. And it was so obvious that she was doing it to get him riled up.

  “Very well. I’ll leave you to it then,” Gretzky bowed and made ready to exit.

  “Wait,” Kennedy interrupted, her cool demeanor gone. “You don’t want
to stay?”

  The steward shook his head. “I’ve already eaten. Besides you two are the guests. I am just your host.”

  Luke dropped his silverware on the table and folded his hands in his lap. “Gretzky, what exactly are we supposed to do here? We don’t even know the rules of this damn competition.”

  Gretzky came back into the room. “The rules are simple. Simply exist. Be. Enjoy the cabin and each other’s presence for the week. With no technology or work to distract you, it will be easy.”

  Simply exist? Cute. Didn’t he know that he had the city’s top workaholics in front of him? Luke held back a laugh. The man was like a refined backwoods Buddha.

  It was Kennedy’s turn to be confused. “How will you know who the winner is?”

  “Whoever is still standing in a week, wins.”

  He fired off another question. “What if we’re both still here?”

  “Then you’ll both split the $100,000,” the older man explained.

  “How are we supposed to entertain ourselves?” Kennedy asked. She gestured around the room with her hands still holding her knife and fork. “There doesn’t look like much to do.”

  Gretzky shrugged. “There’s plenty to do. If you get bored at the cottage, the main house on the compound has a bowling alley and a swimming pool. Also, town is a few minutes away if you’d like to pop in to the shops. If there’s something you want to do, just ask.”

  Kennedy tapped her fingers on the table. She was nervous about being alone with him. Why?

  Gretzky finally left and the candlelit room trapped them in silence. The food was delicious. Everything tasted so good. Luke was wrapped up in his meal until Kennedy moaned directly across from him. He looked up and saw her tonguing down a spoon of mashed potatoes.

  Instant boner.

  He wondered if Kennedy knew what she looked like. Or what she was doing to him. Then he remembered how lethal her tongue used to be and decided she knew exactly what she was doing.

  She moaned again and licked the spoon. Luke tried to brush off his irrational thoughts. Was he envious of mashed potatoes?Damn right he was.