Snowbound Cinderella. Ruth Ryan Langan

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СКАЧАТЬ her eyes. “I thought…I thought you were here because you’d found out that I was hidi—that I was here.” She cursed herself for her lapse. But he seemed too angry to notice.

      “Then you can relax. The only reason I’m here is to be alone.” He slowly circled the room with the light until he located a lamp on a nearby end table. He stepped over his luggage and switched it on, flooding the cabin with lamplight.

      Now he could see the rugged, oversize furniture grouped around a magnificent stone fireplace that soared all the way to the high-beamed ceiling.

      “That’s better.” He turned in time to see the young woman glance down at herself with dismay. When she looked up, he was boldly staring. He didn’t bother to look away.

      She had a fantastic body, displayed in the most provocative manner possible. He looked her down, then up, from those long, long legs, to the lavender lace thong. His throat went dry and he forced his gaze upward. Her waist was so small he was certain his hands could easily span it. The bra was nothing more than two tiny bits of lavender lace, revealing more than they covered. And what they revealed was a body that would make any man’s pulse go haywire. Then there was the face. Lovely enough to grace magazine covers. Full, pouty lips, at the moment turned down into a frown. High cheekbones that a model would kill for. A small perfect nose, and arched brows over eyes that were more green than blue. Her hair was a riot of soft blond waves that fell to her shoulders.

      For one wild moment he wondered whether he was imagining this whole thing. This woman was too beautiful to be real. And this whole situation had the feeling of some fantasy gone awry. Maybe he really was losing it, and his imagination had taken over his senses.

      To her credit she didn’t flinch or try to cover herself. With her hands on her hips she returned the stare. “Seen enough?” The words came from between clenched teeth. Had she been a cat, he thought, she’d have been hissing and spitting.

      “You didn’t leave much for the imagination.” He nearly grinned before he caught himself. “But you might want to put on some clothes before you catch a chill.”

      She turned away and stormed into the bedroom. Over her shoulder she called, “While I’m doing that, you can return your luggage to your car. Since I was here first, you’ll just have to leave and find yourself a lodge somewhere nearby.”

      He walked to the window and stared morosely at the snowdrifts that were already up to the porch. “Sorry I can’t oblige you. I’m afraid we’re stuck with each other. At least for tonight.”

      She came running, tying the sash of her robe as she did. Her frown was more pronounced. “What do you mean?”

      “See for yourself.” He pointed. “Looks like we’re in the middle of a spring blizzard. Nobody’s going anywhere until it blows over.”

      Like a child, she pressed her face to the window and peered out into the darkness. What she saw had her closing her eyes against the spurt of anger and frustration. Then, unwilling to believe what she’d seen, she walked to the front door and yanked it open. Snow blew in on a rush of bitter wind, nearly snatching the door from her grasp.

      Ciara sighed with disgust. The last thing she wanted was to share this cabin for even one night with this stranger. With anyone. She wanted—needed desperately—to be alone.

      With a shiver she leaned into the door, forcing it closed. For several seconds she stayed where she was, her forehead against the door, listening to the howling wind outside. Then, taking a deep breath she turned and crossed the room, determined to make the best of this intolerable situation.

      “I’m sorry about— I don’t think I could have shot you.”

      “Now there’s a comforting thought.”

      She flushed. “I just thought I’d be alone up here.”

      “Yeah. Me too.” Jace shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it carelessly over the back of the sofa. Then he crossed to the fireplace, piled several logs on the grate and added kindling, watching until a thin flame began licking along the bark. Next he rummaged through his duffel until he located the sack of groceries. “I’m going to make some coffee. Want some?”

      “Thanks.” He moved so quickly that she found herself trapped between him and the counter in the kitchen area.

      He felt the press of her body, but he didn’t show it. He kept his gaze deliberately averted. But in his mind’s eye he could still see the way she’d looked without the robe. It wasn’t something a man could easily forget.

      “How long have you been here?” He measured coffee into the filter, then poured water and plugged in the coffeemaker.

      “Since this morning.” Ciara brushed past him, annoyed by the little rush of heat as her body skimmed his. It was a body that was difficult to ignore. He had the taut, firm look of an athlete, with muscled arms and shoulders straining the sleeves of a charcoal sweater. She was a tall woman, yet he was taller easily by a head. Well over six feet. Thick auburn hair, with touches of gray at the temples, was badly in need of a trim. It fell in disarray over his collar.

      Still tingling from the contact, she put as much distance as possible between them, settling herself on the sofa in front of the fire. “I got here before noon.”

      “I didn’t see a car.” He searched through the cupboards until he located two mugs.

      “Eden told me there was a small shed in back. I parked there.”

      He nodded. “Something new, I guess. But then, I haven’t been here in years.”

      “Where’ve you been?”

      “Out of the country. Do you take cream or sugar?”

      “Just a pinch of sugar.” She watched as he moved efficiently around the kitchen, stashing eggs in the refrigerator, bread in the bread bin. He was obviously a man accustomed to being on his own and taking care of his own needs.

      He filled two mugs with steaming coffee and carried them to the sofa. He handed one to her before settling himself beside her and stretching out his long legs toward the warmth of the fire. Until now, he hadn’t known how cold he was. Or how utterly weary. The long hours of traveling were beginning to take their toll.

      She sipped. Sighed. “Umm. This coffee is fantastic.”

      He tasted, then nodded his agreement. “I found it at a little store not far from the airport. I couldn’t believe they’d have fresh-ground coffee at such a place.”

      “I guess you have been out of the country awhile.” She chuckled. “Everybody, including gas stations, is selling designer coffee.” She glanced over. “Where exactly have you been?”

      “Here and there.” He shrugged, frowned, obviously annoyed by the question. “Where’s your home?”

      It was apparent that he was a man who didn’t like to talk about himself. All right, Ciara thought. She’d play it his way, though most of the men she knew in her line of work loved nothing better than to go on and on about themselves and their accomplishments. “I live in California.”

      “What part?”

      Her voice unexpectedly lowered at the thought of the horrible scene she’d fled. Her impending СКАЧАТЬ