Winter Heat, Part 1 Read online

  “No problem.”

  “Thanks.” She resumed walking, indicating with an outstretched hand that they were changing directions, then she led him down a hall to a side exit. “Your chalet is one of the ones set apart from the main lodge. It’s worth the short hike, though, because the view is awesome.”

  Outside, a cold, clean burst of air washed his face. He followed her as she proceeded along the snow-covered walkway that took them up the mountainside. Without glancing over her shoulder, she moved forward as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.

  When they reached a replica of a quaint Swiss chalet, she halted. A stand of giant pines spread wide, looming limbs overhead.

  “You should find everything you need, but if not, please call the office,” she said, pushing a clump of snow around with her shoe.

  Hiking boots, he noticed. He hadn’t caught that earlier. Cute. “Thank you,” he said.

  “At the side of your chalet there’s a pile of firewood.”

  “Got it.” Was she stalling?

  She pulled herself straighter, her gaze direct and unwavering. A show of spunk returned as a warm puff of air wisped past her pink lips. She advanced on him, moving close enough that he could touch her, if he wanted to. He pushed his hands in his pockets.

  She hesitated, then said, “I suspect you’re here to check out the resort’s liability concerning your sister’s accident. I’ll be glad to answer any of your questions.”

  He admired her guts and straightforwardness. “Then we’ll be talking.”

  “We did all that we could,” she added.

  He gave a reluctant nod.

  A sudden gust whipped through the pines, shaking loose a clump of snow that landed on him, breaking the building tension.

  She brushed snow off his shoulder and laughed softly. He couldn’t miss her stunning dimple. Then his gaze was drawn to her lovely eyes.

  “Where do I find you if I have questions?”

  She jerked her head a little to the left. “Hiya, neighbor.”

  Past another stand of pines, there were two more chalets identical to his. “You’re right next door?”

  She nodded.

  He tossed around the fact that thanks to his reservation, she’d known he was coming and placed him precisely under her nose. She’d been prepared for him. On his mental list next to artsy-fartsy and unbelievably sexy, he added smart.

  The two-way radio clipped to her jeans beeped. She unfastened it. “See you around, Dr. Michaels.”

  As she stepped away, he thought again that it was too bad she was affiliated with the resort. Too bad, indeed.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Kelesy noticed the angle of the moon slicing through the trees this evening because of the sheen it cast on Michaels’s thick, ebony hair. Her guest had a rare mixture of rugged good looks and pretty boy charm, and he had the most kissable chiseled jawline, ever. She presented him with her back as she keyed the radio. “Kelsey, here.”

  “Yeah, hold on a sec,” Taylor said.

  She trotted a few steps, putting a cluster of evergreen shrubs between her and Jared Michaels. He was the wrong man to get excited about, she thought. Composure, that’s what the situation called for. Yet, her insides were trembling and twitching as if she’d just finished a challenging snowboard run. She drew a shaky breath.

  The best defense is a great offense. She’d learned that as a kid playing touch football.

  As she waited for Taylor, she reviewed her strategy—stick to Millionaire Michaels like gum to his designer boots. The corner of her mouth curved upward. The image of Jared’s firm jaw working a piece of gum tugged at her memory. Oh, without a doubt, under any other circumstances, sticking to him would be a pleasure.

  She gave a small stomp, crushing a clump of snow in an effort to tramp out such stupid thoughts.

  “Okay. Sorry about that.” Taylor’s good-humored voice cut through her musings as she ambled along the path again. “Just wanted to let you know Amy’s back,” he said.

  “Super. Thanks.”

  “Everything’s cool here, so I’m heading for the lift. I’ll make the run to check out the lights.”

  She stopped in front of her own Tudor-style chalet up the hill, looking back over her shoulder, half wishing Jared Michaels would be glued in place watching her, half relieved he was not. She stared at where he’d been moments earlier, perplexed that he distracted her so much.

  “Okay. Tell Amy I’ll try to catch up with her later. Maybe I’ll stop in to check on Dad while I’m close by. I shouldn’t be too long. He’s probably engrossed in an old Bonanza rerun.”

  She wrapped-up the call, returning the walkie-talkie to its clip, when a thought struck her like a snowball to the side of her head. Two days ago her dad’s TV had quit, so she’d borrowed one from one of the other chalets.

  The one she’d given to Michaels.

  Well, darn-it-all. Maybe he didn’t watch television? A girl could wish. Executing a sluggish about-face, she retraced her steps to explain her oversight. She’d been so concerned and worried when she’d learned about his reservation that, after making the necessary arrangements, she’d lost herself in her painting to keep her nerves under control and had forgotten to put the TV back.

  She’d become good at the escapist tactic. She’d certainly had practice. Through her mom and dad’s bitter divorce, her mother’s subsequent remarriage, her father’s recent illness, and the pressures that came with taking over the resort and trying to keep it out of bankruptcy, she’d come to rely more and more on the oil and canvas and brush. Yes, painting she could control.

  When she reached Michaels’s chalet, she knocked, wrapped both arms across her middle as she waited, and at the same time tweaked the tender flesh on the inside corner of her mouth with her teeth.

  He opened the door, and hot air rushed out, made even more noticeable by the heat that engulfed her as the guest’s six-foot-two, well-built frame filled the doorway. Was the change of temperature due to the furnace or the man? He was definitely hot. Oh, shush.

  His brows shot up like coal-sketched accent marks over russet-brown, inquiring eyes, obviously amazed she’d returned. She experienced a shock of her own, for he’d shed his coat and the full force of her attraction hit her as her gaze roamed his strong, protective shoulders.

  Oh. My. Goodness. Her jaw dropped. She snapped it shut. The warm unfamiliar buzz that melted her insides held her still, until her heart rate sped up and kicked her into overdrive. She hoped he thought her red face was due to the cold instead of—

  “Yes?” he said.

  “I’m—I’m sorry to bother you, Dr. Michaels,” she half stammered.

  “It’s Jared. And I’m glad you’re here. There are a few problems.” He moved into the entrance and motioned with his hand. “Come in.”

  “Problems?” The TV?

  “I can’t find the thermostat, and the place is an oven.”

  “Thermostat?” she repeated stupidly. “Hmm.” It took effort for her to switch her train of thought as she scooted past him into the great room, where double French doors were standing wide open. Well, that’s money down the toilet.

  “Yes. Where is the damn thing?”

  She immediately went to the outer wall, pushed back the drapes that were covering a tall side window, and, striking a Vanna White pose, pointed out the thermostat. “When we added the curtains, some of the controls ended up hidden behind them.”

  “Thanks.” His gaze took a subtle glide up her body, settling on her face and heating her skin.

  Oh. That. Look. She forced herself to stand taller. “Would you like me to reset it?”

  “Sure. Sixty-five.”

  Wouldn’t you know—wheel-’-em-and-deal-’-em cold.

  As he appeared to recover from the attraction she knew they both felt, his focus shifted to the empty cabinet where the television usually sat. “And the TV?”

  “Um, that’s the reason I returned. I wanted to apologize for my oversight.
I forgot I’d loaned out the television from this unit to another one.”

  He shrugged, his gaze returning to her, expectant. He flashed a grin. “Well, get it back. Or find me another. Or, I’ll find somewhere else to stay.”

  She stared at him, wondering if perhaps it would be best if he were gone. No, he wouldn’t leave. But a hint of doubt pinched at her insecurity.

  He dragged up one expressive brow until it reached its zenith.

  That man. So bold. So confident. So infuriatingly appealing.

  So dangerous, the sensible part of her warned.

  She resisted a chuckle at how trivial this all seemed given the reason he was here. “I can’t get it back.” She hesitated, then exhaled sharply. “But you can have mine.”

  Keep him happy, make him go away.

  She was angst-ridden, sure, but she wasn’t crazy. No way was she going to allow Tiffani Michaels’s accident—something the resort had no control over—or the woman’s handsome rich-and-famous-entrepreneur brother ruin what her dad had worked to build, everything he depended on to survive.

  “I don’t want to take yours. Isn’t there another?”

  “No. That’s it. But don’t worry. I’m a book person. I won’t miss the thing.”

  Jared glanced at his watch. “Tell you what. Keep the TV at your place. The program I want to see should start in fifteen minutes. Not enough time to move it over here.”

  “I’m sorry you’re going to miss your show.” Tension threaded through her shoulders and arms. She thumbed the smooth surface of her unpolished nails. When had she become so uptight?

  He grabbed his coat, smiled, and winked. “Oh no. I’ll watch it at your place. It’s one show. No big deal.”

  “What?” A moment ago it was a big deal. She trapped her initial urge to point out that he hadn’t planned very well, behind tight lips. She shouldn’t upset him right from the get-go. But darn—his charm and the quick change of direction regarding the television issue sure whirled her off balance.

  “Come on. It will give us a chance to get better acquainted.”

  Uncontrollably, a dreamy mental picture popped into her head of this gorgeous man cuddled up on the couch eating popcorn with her—forget that his suggestion was a total invasion of her privacy. Irritation chased the image back into the corner of her brain where it belonged. She was about to tell him flat-out no. Then, reconsidering, she surrendered to the idea. What was there to be afraid of?

  That he was the most handsome man she’d ever met didn’t matter. He’d be on his way back to his highfalutin office come Monday.

  “Okay.” She lifted her hands, palms facing out, in an admission of defeat. “My home is a theater for one night.”

  She remembered the last time she’d spent time on the sofa supposedly watching a movie, making love to the man she’d expected to spend the rest of her life with. Now didn’t that turn out well?

  She closed and locked the French doors.

  The self-assured glance he shot her way made her feel like a college girl who had a crush on her professor.

  “Remembering high school?”

  She blinked. The room turned suddenly hot. “What are you talking about?”

  “Movies. Or more precisely what people do during them. That’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it?”

  Heavens, were they sharing thoughts? “No. You have a wild imagination.”

  “So I’ve been told. But you’re blushing.”

  “It’s a curse I have to live with.” She resisted touching her cheeks, rubbing away the heat she felt there.

  A silent, challenge-filled beat passed between them.

  “Oh jeez. You’ll have your own television by tomorrow night. I promise.” She made a mental note to have Taylor pick up a TV from town in the morning. More money gone. On second thought, she’d just have her TV moved next door, after all.

  “Great.” He checked his watch again. “We better hurry.”

  Kelsey shook her head as she steered herself toward the door and exited. He kept up with her swift pace as they walked to her chalet, and a string of questions fired through her brain. Did he know the channel the program aired on in this area? Didn’t he have a tablet or laptop that he could live-stream it on? Ugh, why didn’t she think to ask these things earlier? She wished she were one of those sharp, think-on-your-feet kind of people instead of having thoughts hit her hours or days later. And while all the frustrating ideas spun in her head, she sensed in her heart the special way he affected her. No. No. She wasn’t going to go there.

  She drew a deep, long, cleansing breath.

  Jared Michaels was a sexy, arrogant pain in the butt. There was no reasoning with him now. There’d be no reasoning with him concerning his sister, either, she was sure.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Upon entering her chalet, Jared decided that, given the situation, circumstances couldn’t have worked out better. He appreciated getting an insider’s look at things. The downside was that she’d soon discover his best-kept secret. But, hell, she’s a stranger.

  He scanned the entry and living area, snagging enough copious bits of information to diagnose Kelsey Moore as passionate, driven, and family oriented.

  Like her paintings. He identified several gracing her walls in what seemed her signature bold style. Her home possessed the warmth and life of vibrant color. Deep reds, blues, and yellows popped against black modern-style furniture. Personal photos dotted the room, too, mostly action shots, of river rafting, hiking, and biking, along with a line of diplomas on the wall. He wasn’t close enough to read them.

  Passion and comfort. The place felt homey, yet at the same time had an air of loneliness to it. There was only one pair of shoes at the entrance, one chair at the counter, a single-cup coffee maker.

  Where his place was decked out to entertain, this was not.

  Still, he acknowledged the enthusiasm present in her art because it mirrored the kind of fervor he savored in his film projects. The desire to produce something creative and unique drove him to carve out time on Wednesdays and weekends specifically for that art. That revered part of his life was the reason he couldn’t miss tonight’s television show.

  Strange how, despite the rotten conditions that brought him here, excitement simmered inside of him at the prospect of sharing this with Kelsey.

  However, if he read her vigorous movements correctly, she was in a glorious miff.

  She shed her coat a little too fast and clunked her shoes off in the entrance. He followed her lead. As she moved into the living area, with a great room layout identical to his chalet, she snapped up a towel and shirt from the counter and straightened as she went. She seemed neat, but not perfect. A good combination.

  He suppressed a grin as she did an awkward dance, sidestepping around him when he reached the seating area. She indicated to the far end of the couch with a pointed waggle of her finger, directing him away from the left side where he’d planned to sit.

  “No, not there,” she said, and yawned. “That’s my seat.”

  He shifted to the right and sat.

  “Tired?”

  “Not really.” She stifled another yawn, fetched the television control from the end-table and punched a button to turn it on. “What channel?”

  “Sci-Fi and Adventure.”

  After putting on the station, she set the remote on the sofa next to him. Her lovely hazel eyes met his and held. He sensed she was trying to come to a decision. Would she run off to her room and leave him to watch alone?

  To his surprise, that wasn’t what he wanted at all.

  Her. Snuggled up to him. Right here. Right now. That’s what he wanted, even though he knew how impossible that was.

  Kelsey stepped back. “Excuse me,” she began, “I need to make a quick phone call. Then I’m going to mix-up some hot chocolate. Want some?”

  “Sure, that would be great.”

  He watched her saunter into the kitchen with loose-limbed grace. When he was alone, impatience stir
red in him as he heard her speaking in low tones. Though he tried not to eavesdrop, she seemed to be talking to her dad. Surely the blame for his sister’s accident lay with her father, not her.

  A few minutes later, she placed a tray on the counter and leaned forward, watching him.

  He twisted in the seat to see her better, glancing over the back of the burnt-red sofa. “Do you like Star Wars?” he asked.

  “That’s what you so desperately want to watch?”

  “Sort of.”

  “But it’s ancient now, isn’t it? Almost everyone I know has seen it a million times. Even so, I’m not one to watch something over and over. It seems a waste.”

  “It’s not. But you’re entitled to your opinion.” There were still commercials on so he thumbed the MUTE button.

  The microwave dinged. She stepped out of sight again, and he could hear items clattering against the counter, the tinkling of glass cups, the opening and closing of the microwave door.

  Then she was back in view. “And, news flash,” she said, “you can get it on DVD, you know.”

  “Yes, I already have the entire series. But tonight they’re doing a special with out-takes and trivia about its filming. Details comparing how technology has changed since it was originally filmed and things like that.” He paused, considering where he was and, who she was, and then he calculated the risk of giving in to this impossible feeling to share something intimate and personal with her. Finally he added, “If you watch, you may see someone you recognize chatting with Steven Spielberg.”

  “You?” she asked incredulously.

  “That’s right. I interviewed him.” He heard the microwave beep. Was that popcorn he smelled?

  She leaned out from behind the cabinet to gawk at him. “No, kidding. You met Spielberg?”

  “Several times. But only this once on TV. He’s the best of the best.”

  “But isn’t your dad a heart surgeon turned senator?”

  “Yeah. So?” He glanced at the TV. The commercial had finished so he adjusted the volume to low. “Hey, you’ve been checking up on me,” he said with laughter in his voice.