Snowbound Cinderella. Ruth Ryan Langan
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nothing but the snow, she turned back and caught sight of his quick, dangerous grin. “That wasn’t funny.”
“Sorry.” He tried to sound contrite. But she could see the smile still tugging at the corners of his lips. “I didn’t plan it, but the timing was perfect.”
She muttered a couple of unflattering things under her breath as he crossed the room and closed the door, latching it against the tug of the wind.
She turned away and began searching for a spoon. “I must have sounded pretty foolish.”
She nearly jumped when he put a hand to her shoulder. His voice was so near, she could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck. “It’s the storm, Hollywood. It’s bound to get to you.”
“Yeah.” Even though the nickname irritated her, she couldn’t seem to catch her breath, knowing he was standing so close. And she was afraid to turn around to face him. With her back to him she asked, “Want some cereal?”
Was she offering a truce of sorts? He wasn’t certain, but he figured he might as well grasp at any straw. “Sure. Thanks. I guess we’re going to have to do all of our cooking over the fire now. I saw a grate as well as an aluminum coffeepot for camping in the closet. We can make good use of both of those.”
He walked to the closet to retrieve the items. When he returned, he shifted beside her, his arm brushing hers as he filled the coffeepot with water. He crossed the room, placed the grate on the fire and arranged the pot in one corner of the fireplace, over glowing coals. In no time the water was boiling. He added ground beans, and within minutes the cabin was perfumed with the wonderful fragrance of coffee.
Ciara carried the bowls of cereal to the coffee table, while Jace filled two mugs.
He set one in front of her and said, “Just the way you like it. With a pinch of sugar.”
She was surprised, and more than a little pleased, that he’d remembered. In all the time that she and her fiancé Brendan had been together, he had never noticed how she liked her coffee. In fact, she’d never seen him fix or fetch anything for himself. He had employees to see to his every need. She couldn’t imagine him hauling firewood, or settling for a bed in the loft, or figuring out how to preserve their food once the power went out. In fact, she couldn’t imagine Brendan Swift accepting a situation like this without throwing a tantrum.
She sipped, closed her eyes and sighed over the pure pleasure of hot fresh coffee. “I guess being snowbound won’t be so bad, as long as we don’t run out of logs or coffee.”
He chuckled. “If we run out of logs we can burn the furniture to stay warm. But I’m a man who has to have his coffee in the morning. So if we run out of that, watch out.”
She couldn’t help laughing.
He grinned back and found himself beginning to relax. The thought of being trapped in this cabin with a Hollywood star with an oversize ego had kept him up most of the night. But Ciara was showing a side he hadn’t anticipated. She’d accepted this situation with grace. She had a refreshing sense of humor, and was even able to laugh at herself. Maybe, just maybe, they could weather this storm without conflict.
They ate in companionable silence, watching the firelight flicker and dance with each gust of wind that roared down the chimney.
“How long do you think it will take before the roads are passable?” she asked.
Jace shrugged. “We have to wait for the snow to stop first. I doubt they’ll bother to send road crews to plow until the storm has blown over completely. We’ll just have to hope that once that happens, the spring sunshine does its job on the layer of ice.” He shot her a sideways glance. “I’ll bet you didn’t think, when you left sunny California, that you’d be spending your weekend in a blizzard.”
She laughed. “I guess I won’t be wearing that bikini I packed.”
He quirked a brow. “Listen, Hollywood. If it’ll make you feel more at home, you can wear it around the cabin. And I promise you, you won’t hear a word of complaint from me.”
“That’s really noble of you, but I’m sorry. I’m not working now.” She picked up their empty bowls and headed toward the sink. “I only wear that uniform when I’m on the job.”
“Tough working conditions.” He topped off their cups and carried them to the kitchen. “How’d you get started acting?”
She turned and accepted the cup from him, and was disconcerted to find him staring directly into her eyes. A most uncomfortable feeling, especially since his were deep brown, with a soulful look that did strange things to her heart.
She decided to try to shock him. It was the least she could do to pay him back for that bear scare. “I stripped for the producer.” She lifted the cup and took a long, deep drink, satisfied by the lift of his brows. “He liked what he saw, and said the part was mine.” There, she thought. That ought to fix him. “How’d you become a reporter?”
Without missing a beat he said, “I stripped for the network producer. She didn’t like what she saw and sent me to Bosnia.”
Ciara laughed so hard she nearly choked on her coffee. Jace laughed just as hard.
“Okay,” she muttered, sticking out her hand. “I think that makes us even.”
“For now.” He accepted her handshake and absorbed a sudden jolt to his system. There was definitely something about touching her that was downright dangerous. And he knew plenty about danger.
He crossed to the door and pulled on a parka. “I’m going to gather more firewood. And check the shed for a generator.”
“A generator?”
“In case this storm decides to hang around. It’ll give us enough juice to heat the water and keep the pipes from freezing.”
When he let himself out, Ciara carried her cup to the fire and stood staring thoughtfully into the flames. It occurred to her that if Jace hadn’t intruded on her privacy, she would be facing this storm alone. The terror she’d felt last night when she’d thought a stranger was breaking into the cabin would be nothing compared to the terror she’d be experiencing right now if she were dealing with this on her own.
She had come here thinking she’d find peace and solitude in the rugged mountains. Then she’d found herself fighting off an intruder. She’d had her moment of panic, especially when he’d overpowered her and wrestled the rifle from her hands. But within minutes she’d been reassured that he wasn’t here to do her physical harm. Being trapped in a sudden spring blizzard, alone and unable to go for help, would have left her terrified. She probably would have been pacing the floor by now, consumed with fear and praying for a road crew to rescue her.
For some strange reason she felt safe with Jace here to help her deal with the problems. He had the look of a survivor. There was a toughness about him. And an aura of danger and independence. Wherever he’d spent the past years, she’d be willing to bet it wasn’t someplace snug and safe.
Still, she didn’t intend to let down her guard. There would be not one word spoken about Brendan, the wedding in two weeks that she’d run from, or her future plans that could be revealed later to the media. She had no intention of forgetting the fact that Jace Lockhart—soulful eyes aside—was a reporter.
After heating water in the kettle over the fire, she washed the dishes and tidied the kitchen. She was just finishing when Jace returned, carrying another armful of logs.
“The snow’s letting up.” He nudged the door shut with his hip and walked to the fireplace, where he deposited the firewood.
“Did you find a generator?”
“Yeah. Looks pretty old and rusty, but I’ll test it later to see if it works. Even if it doesn’t, there’s enough wood to keep us warm.” He added another log to the fire. “I spotted your red convertible out in the shed, Hollywood. It suits you. But it’ll be pretty useless