Sleigh Bells in the Snow. Sarah Morgan
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buying her dinner in the restaurant as compensation. I figure after an hour with our family, she’s going to need a drink. Probably ten drinks.”
Tyler lifted his eyebrows. “But this isn’t a date, right?”
“It’s work.” Ignoring the look his brother gave him, Jackson scooped up his keys. “Buy some beer. That way there might be some in my fridge next time you open it.”
IT WAS JUST a meeting.
She’d been to hundreds of meetings, and this one wasn’t any different.
Energized after a hot shower, Kayla pulled another pencil skirt off a hanger and put it on the bed next to her black cashmere sweater. Smart and warm. Wearing it would show she could be practical when the need arose.
Grabbing her suitcase, she picked out her favorite pair of black heels. She’d walk over in her boots and then change into her shoes.
Wrapped in a towel, cheeks still pink from the heat of the hair dryer, Kayla mentally ran through the way she intended to play the meeting.
They’d be skeptical, so she’d show them what PR could do for them.
They’d assume she didn’t know anything about their business, so she’d prove to them she’d memorized all the statistics and facts. That she knew Snow Crystal.
Finally, she’d show them what she’d achieved for other clients.
She’d show Jackson O’Neil that she might be useless at walking on ice, but when it came to understanding marketing there would be no slips. Her traction would be perfect.
She wondered why he was so concerned about the meeting.
Apart from my brother, you’re the only person I have in my corner. It’s in my interests to keep you alive.
The irony didn’t escape her. She’d never met a man’s family before. Never got to that point in a relationship, and here she was about to meet Grandma.
Kayla straightened her hair until there was no sign of her encounter with the snow, livened up the severe black sweater with a silver scarf covered in tiny stars and added a pair of silver hoops to her ears before checking her reflection quickly in the camera on her phone.
Go, Kayla.
By the time Jackson rapped on the door, she was confident she was ready for anything they threw at her.
He parked outside the main house. Tiny lights hung along the eaves and were twisted into the trees.
It could have been worse, she thought. At least there were no grinning Santas or illuminated reindeer with flashing antlers.
Jackson unclipped his seat belt. “Nervous?”
Yes, she was nervous, but she had a feeling that had more to do with the man sitting next to her than the prospect of the meeting. All he’d done was drive, but there was a tight knot in her belly and all she could think about was sex. Her gaze slid to the sensual curve of his mouth and then away again.
What the hell was wrong with her? Stacy was right. She needed to get out more. “I’m excited. You have a business issue to solve and that’s what I do.” What she didn’t do was stare at her client and wonder how it would feel to be kissed by him.
“I hope you still feel the same way by the end of the meeting.”
Anxious to get away from him, Kayla slid out of the car and stared at the path, weighing up her chances of making it to the door without falling over. “I might hold your arm this time.”
“Good to know you learn from your mistakes.” There was laughter in his voice and something else, something rougher and more dangerous that told her he was feeling exactly the way she was feeling.
Her gaze met the deep blue of his, and the sudden flash of chemistry punched the breath from her lungs.
It was like falling on an electric fence.
She grabbed his arm. “First thing tomorrow I’m buying proper footwear.”
She held his arm for as little time as possible and then paused in the doorway to tug off her boots and slide on shoes that gave her at least another three inches in height.
Pushing her boots into her bag, she smoothed her hair. “I’m ready.”
Jackson stared down at her feet. His gaze traveled slowly up her legs and finally ended up at her mouth. He hadn’t touched her but suddenly her lips tingled and her throat felt dry.
“We should—”
“Yeah, we should—” His tone was thickened and then he frowned slightly and turned to push open the door.
Sleigh bells jangled, breaking the spell. Kayla stared at the pretty cluster of bells tied to the door handle below a glossy wreath made of juniper and spruce.
“What are those?”
“My father proposed to my mother in a horse-drawn sleigh. She kept the bells as a memento and hangs them on the door at Christmas.”
Oh, great. That was all she needed. “Your mother loves Christmas?”
“Yes. She loves decorating for the holidays. Be warned—our tree is usually bigger than the one outside the Rockefeller Center.”
Digesting that less-than-welcome news, Kayla stared gloomily at the bells.
They were just decorations, she reminded herself. And at least her cabin was a Christmas-free zone.
She walked into the house and stopped in surprise as she took in the details of the room and saw the number of people crowded around the large table.
“Oh, I—This is—” She turned to look at Jackson, confused. “This is the kitchen.”
“That’s right.”
“The kitchen leads to your meeting room?”
The kitchen is our meeting room.” He closed the door on the cold and Kayla felt a flash of panic as she turned back to face her audience.
They were holding this meeting in the kitchen?
She glanced around and saw shiny saucepans and stainless steel. Bunches of herbs hung drying above the range. Surfaces gleamed, but this was no showroom kitchen. It was lived-in and loved. There were boots of various sizes lined up by the door and shelves stacked with recipe books. It was easy to imagine the three O’Neil boys rushing in from the snow, hoping to grab some freshly baked treats.
A woman hefted a large blue casserole dish into the oven and gave them a welcoming smile.
“You must be Kayla. We’ve heard so much about you. I’m Elizabeth O’Neil, Jackson’s mother. Alice and Walter, his grandparents—” she nodded her head in their direction “—and Tyler, Jackson’s brother. Jess might join us later but I’m sure you won’t mind that. Now come on in and let me take your coat.” She closed the oven door and hurried over, the smile still on her face, her arms outstretched.
Kayla took a hasty step backward, and the sharp heel of her stiletto drove hard into Jackson’s foot.
He swore under his breath and then his hands closed around her arms and he steadied her. “Do you have a license for that weapon?”
She didn’t answer. Terrified she was about to be hugged, Kayla thrust her hand out, almost winding his mother in the process. “Pleased to meet you.”
Jackson released her. “My mother is British, so you have that in common.” He smoothed over the potentially awkward beginning. “Thirty-five years ago she arrived to cook for a winter season and never left.”
“Why would I leave? I never saw anywhere more perfect than this place, and I’m sure Kayla agrees.”
Kayla was ready to agree to anything in order to get out of this Christmas grotto as