Frozen: A Winter Romance Anthology

by Melange Books, LLC

  “I know everything I need to know.” His arm circled round her waist again, and he pulled her toward him. Sam's breathing quickened as she felt his body, strong and firm, pressed up against her own. Even with all the layers of clothing between them, waves of excitement undulated through her body at the contact. Sam looked up at him, her lips parted just slightly, inviting him to kiss her again. He didn't miss the signal. He leaned down, tightening his grip around her with both arms and lifted her up completely off her feet until she was exactly level with him, her face right across from his. Sam gasped at the sheer power of his movement, and when he kissed her this time with lips that were all at once strong and gentle, a quiet moan of pleasure escaped her lips.

  He set her down gently, taking his time to let her body slide slowly down his, and by the time her feet touched the ground she was practically delirious with desire.

  “What do you know?” Sam whispered, looking questioningly into his beautiful eyes.

  “I like you.”

  She smiled about a quarter of the smile she was feeling inside. His confident grin was bordering on cocky, but Sam liked it. The look of self-assurance displayed on Jake’s mouth just made her want him to kiss her again.

  “And you like me,” he said, eyebrows arched. He pulled her truck door open and kissed her softly on the cheek. “We'll see each other again, Sam McLeod of Ice Impressions.” Then he walked away into the night, hands in his pockets, and if Sam wasn't mistaken, a little swagger in his step. Sam let her head fall back onto the leather headrest. There was something in his voice, the way he said her name, that was odd, almost gamesmanship, but she didn't have the mental energy to wonder. Her head was still spinning. How was it possible just a few hours earlier she'd slipped off of a ladder and now here she was—giddy in her beat up, awesome, truck, after having a gorgeous mystery man tell her he liked her and being kissed multiple times in the street.

  * * * *

  What a night, Sam thought, as she cranked the engine. It coughed and sputtered, but didn't turn over. Sam pumped the gas a few times and turned the key again. The same pathetic wheezy old engine cough filled the air, but nothing happened. Sam slammed her hand on the steering wheel. The temperature was dropping, and the cold plastic stung her hand. “Don't do this to me,” she snarled at the car. She took a deep breath, said a short prayer and turned the key again. Nothing. “Dammit!” Sam looked around, but her date was gone. Through her frozen windshield, she could see that the parking area was deserted. A few tiny crystals of snow landed and froze on the glass in front of her. It would only get colder, and she couldn't afford a tow. Suddenly, a rapping on her window startled her.

  “Old Bessie acting up again, Sam?”

  Sam looked up to see Polly enshrouded in a giant parka inside her brand new sport utility and relief flooded over her. “Yes, darn thing,” she said.

  “Well, name calling won't help. You better get in; storm’s coming.” She squinted at Sam. “Your stove still out?”

  Sam nodded. “Rusted through. I haven't had a chance to replace it. But it's okay...I'll turn on the space heaters in the office for tonight.”

  “Alright then, I'll take you home and have Mike give that heap a look in the morning.”

  “You're my savior! What can I give you in return? You name it!”

  “That's easy,” Polly said, flinging the passenger side door open for Sam. “You can start by telling me what the heck you were doing having dinner with the enemy.”

  Sam's face wrinkled in confusion. She thrust her freezing hands in front of the SUV's powerful heat vents and rubbed them. “What are you talking about, Polly?”

  Polly rotated in her seat to stare at Sam. “Seriously? You don't know?” Her eyes were wide with disbelief.

  Sam shook her head, perplexed. She threw her hands open in a so-tell-me gesture. Polly reached over and turned the heat dial to the max. Then she looked her friend straight in the eye and said, “Your dinner date was Jake Pane.”

  Chapter Three

  Sam rushed up the stairs to her office before the taillights of Polly's truck had even disappeared from her driveway. Inside the office, she flipped on the light switch as she made her way to her desk. She plunked down in the chair and pushed her mouse, bringing her computer to life. The scheduling screen she was working on earlier stared back at her, with that same taunting set of letters repeating before her eyes: JP, JP, JP. Jake Pane. Destroyer of her business. Ice carver with a heart of ice.

  How was it possible he was the same guy who had broken her fall from the icy ladder? He was the adorable flirt she'd had dinner with. Her stomach felt heavy as she replayed the events of the night in horrible detail. She'd kissed him in the street. Oh God. That was Jake Pane. The universe sure had a sense of humor. “I like you”, he'd said. And she had really liked him. Had being the operative word. Her eyes were hot with tears, but she wouldn't let herself cry. Instead, she laid her head down on the cold wood of the desk, closed her eyes and let out a stifled scream.

  Sam didn't see the room go dark. The gentle whir of the laptop's fan stopped suddenly, and the room went silent. Sam sat up and her eyes searched the inky blackness of the room. She clamored for the light switch, but nothing happened. Slowly her eyes adjusted; she could make out the fuzzy shapes of her useless lamp and computer, the pile of unpaid bills...the electric bill. Oh no. She stepped carefully to the window and peered down to her cabin below. She'd left the outside light on for herself before she'd went out as usual, but it was dark as well. In fact, the only discernible light on her property came from the sliver of moon reflecting on the snow.

  Sam leaned back against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor. She couldn't fight back her tears anymore. They flowed freely down her cheeks, and the vapor of her hot sobs rose visible before her like clouds. Her folded body shook as she wept, and her despair filled the frigid black room.

  Sam’s cell phone buzzed and startled her out of her crying fit. The phone displayed a number she didn't recognize, but after considering her situation—alone, miserable, freezing cold in the dark—she answered anyway.

  “Hello,” her voice quavered.

  “Sam?”

  Sam's brow wrinkled in the dark. “I'm sorry,” she sniffed. “Who is this?”

  “It's Ja— the handsome stranger you fell on earlier tonight. I, I know it's a little soon to be calling, but I've never been much of a rule follower.”

  “I could see that about you,” Sam said. She set her jaw. “So why are you calling?”

  There was a long pause. Then Jake said, “I think we have something to talk about.”

  “You think?” Sam snapped. She waited for him to start groveling.

  “Well, Ms. Sam McLeod, I got a pretty nasty letter from you today.”

  Sam's face flushed. She'd forgotten about the scathing note she'd written him impulsively in a fit of rage. She'd even used a marker. She cleared her throat to speak.

  “I forgive you.” Jake's baritone was rich and his words surprising. She hadn't expected that response. But what did he have to forgive? He was the one who needed the forgiving. After all, he was the one driving her out of business. “But I have to admit, I'm confused. Why did you send me the hate mail in the first place?”

  “Your name is Jake Pane, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Which you conveniently neglected to tell me when we were...when...earlier.”

  “I wasn't deceiving you. I thought the mysteriousness of our meeting just made it more exciting. Didn't you?”

  “If I had known, I wouldn't have gone anywhere with you.” Sam's voice was sharp.

  “Why?” Jake sounded genuinely puzzled.

  Sam hesitated. Finally, she said, “You're driving me out of business.”

  “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

  “I was doing fine until a couple months ago. Then one by one I lost all my clients—long-time clients, who were totally happy with my work. To none other than Jake Pane. And you
just told me—that's you. All I've got left is some new place—Lakeview B&B, otherwise, the rest are all yours now.”

  “I would never poach—”

  “I don’t think you’re getting the picture here, Jake. I'm sitting in the dark, freezing cold in my office. My power got shut off,” she exclaimed, her voice rising with exasperation.

  “Sam, you can't stay there. It's supposed to get down to 15 below tonight.” Jake's voice was fraught with concern.

  “My truck died.”

  “I'll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  Sam opened her mouth to object—to tell Jake that she didn't need any help, especially from him, but the line was dead. He'd already hung up. She propped herself up to peer out the window again. Outside a fine powdery snow was just starting to fall; a strong wind kicked up and whipped it around in swirls. Sam shivered and pulled her jacket tighter around her. She thought she remembered stowing a wool blanket away in the closet last winter. She felt her way to the other side of the room and pulled it down from the top shelf to wrap herself in it. Then she lay down on the floor and closed her eyes, as she finally succumbed to exhaustion.

  Chapter Four

  A slippery film of ice built up on the road caused Jake's jeep to slide as he rounded the turn onto Sam's road. He'd looked up her business address quickly on his Smartphone before he left his rental house behind in a spray of gravel. Sam’s property was well outside town, away from civilization. The roads were already horrible, coated in black ice, and the drifting powdery snow reduced the visibility to almost nothing. The trip had been slow going, and he'd been driving for almost an hour, instead of the fifteen minutes he promised. The thermometer next to his clock read −20.

  For a moment, Jake's mind outpaced his Jeep. He wondered just how cold it had gotten inside her office by now. He hoped she had something warmer than that thin coat she'd been wearing earlier. The jeep slid again. Jake gripped the wheel, turning it into the skid until it recovered, its tires finding purchase on a spot of dry road. Jake narrowed his eyes to try to make out Sam's place in the darkness. Finally, on the horizon, he spotted a tiny cabin with a two-story outbuilding and a barn. This must be it, he thought. He negotiated the jeep off the road and down the long dirt drive. The truck skidded to a stop next to a large tree that was in between a small cabin and a falling-down barn.

  Even in the dim illumination of his headlights, Jake could tell the cabin had seen better days. The roof sagged beneath the weight of the last snow, and nothing came out of the chimney. Jake flipped up the collar of his coat and headed out into the storm. The wind was brutal as he fought his way to the door. He knocked, but no answer came. He turned the doorknob, but it was locked. Finally, he shouted, “Sam! Are you in here? It's Jake!” Still nothing.

  The cold wind slashed at his exposed skin. He retreated to the warmth of his vehicle to consider his options. Jake thought of her, she really was lovely—skin the color of moonlight, surrounded by flowing auburn hair. She might have hypothermia at this point he worried. In his vision of her, her skin now took a bluish cast. He couldn't just sit here. And breaking down the door was within reason if she was in danger.

  Jake launched himself back toward the cabin and slammed his broad shoulder into the wooden door. The flimsy frame cracked and gave way. Jake stumbled into the living room. He pulled a flashlight from his pocket and quickly surveyed the living area. A wood stove that appeared to be one step away from crumbling into a rusty pile stood in the center. That explained the lack of smoke from the chimney.

  The room was neat and sparsely furnished. The only other furniture in the room was a drooping futon that doubled as a bed, by the looks of the neatly folded quilt and pillow stacked at one end, a side table and a beautiful wooden steamer trunk. Even with just a quick glance, Jake could tell that a very talented woodworker made this. Jake thought of the expression on Sam’s face when he pointed out the beautiful piece at the restaurant. Maybe it had been hers. The rustic kitchen held just the basics and no Sam. She wasn't in the cabin that was certain. Through the frost-encrusted window, Jake spotted the garage. The cabin had no signs of a workspace. He suddenly realized that the garage must be her workshop, and the second floor above it probably served as her office. He pulled the door shut behind him and jogged over to the garage. The workshop was empty, so he called up the stairs as he took them two at a time.

  “I'm here,” a small voice called from the corner of the room.

  Jake's flashlight beam swept around the room until he found Sam huddled on the floor wrapped in a blanket. He rushed to her and knelt. Then he pulled off his gloves and took her face in his hands. Her skin was cold in his warm hands. “Are you alright? I'm sorry I took so long. The roads are...”

  “It's okay.” Sam's teeth chattered.

  “I brought some hot chocolate,” Jake said, reaching for the thermos in his coat pocket. “Then we'll get you someplace warm.”

  “No, we won't.”

  Jake took Sam’s hand to help her grab the cup of hot liquid he was trying to hand her. “You're hypothermic,” he said as he adjusted the blanket around her and took off his own coat to place on top. The temperature of the room shocked Jake’s system. He might as well have been outside. He reached down to scoop her up, but she shook her head.

  “We can't drive in this.” Sam poked her finger at the window with what looked like an enormous effort. Jake looked where she was pointing. The storm had intensified since he'd reached her place; it was a complete whiteout outside. In the quiet of the office, he could make out the howling wind and the sound of sleet on the roof. Sam was right. They were definitely not driving out of here in this; even with four-wheel-drive, they'd never make it.

  “Okay,” he conceded. “We stay.”

  “I'm tired now,” was all Sam said in response before her eyelids fluttered shut. Jake surveyed the room. He had to find a way to get Sam’s body temperature up—quickly. There was no wood stove up here. He wrapped his arms around her tightly.

  “I'm sorry about your business. I promise I would never go after someone's clients,” he whispered softly into Sam's ear. “Remember how I told you I was a painter? Well, that wasn't the whole story. I’m just doing the competition because my agent thought it would be good PR... I sort of disappeared from the art scene a while back. I thought a change would be good. This was supposed to be my renaissance, I guess. I'm not actively pursuing it, except for the contest. I swear.”

  Sam's eyes opened and Jake looked into them earnestly. “I hope you believe me,” he added.

  “I don't know what to believe. I'm too cold to think.”

  Jake looked over the tangle of blankets and arms. He shook his head. “This isn't working. I'll be right back.” He charged down the stairs, out to his jeep and pulled out the sleeping bag he kept in back in case of emergencies. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it earlier. Inside, he shook off the snow he'd brought in. He removed his coat and tossed it aside. Then he pulled off his sweater and the thermal shirt he'd had on underneath it. His cold fingers pulled at the buckle of his belt. Sam's brow wrinkled.

  “Wait a minute. What are you doing? I’m not going to have to use my bear spray on you, am I? I’m really not up to it.”

  “Take off your clothes.”

  Sam's lip twitched. She shook her head. “No way.”

  Jake reached toward her canvas coat. “I'm serious. It's the best way to get warm,” he said. He watched understanding register across her face and she dropped her hands to her sides. Jake took the motion as a gesture of permission and reached out again, slowly. He checked her face for protest and when he saw none his fingers set to work unbuttoning her coat.

  Sam sat motionless as Jake gently tugged her coat off. He was shirtless, and even though her mind was moving slowly from the hypothermia, she did note that his muscled chest and shoulders looked more like those of a lumberjack than an artist. Despite being a city boy, he looked like he belonged here. Sam’s body trembled as Jake’s hands slid d
own over her ribs to her waist where they curled under the bottom of her sweater. He lifted it slowly up her torso, leaving a trail of tingly skin where his hands had grazed her. Jake's eyes never wandered; they stayed locked on hers during the entire undressing—even when she slipped her silky camisole off leaving her in only her underwear. Tiny goosebumps rose on her naked flesh, and Jake immediately unrolled the sleeping bag and gestured for her to climb in. Then he quickly stripped off his pants and jumped in next to her. Sam was instantly overwhelmed by the heat from Jake’s skin as he pulled her close to him.

  “This okay?”

  “It's warmer,” she said.

  “It’s not exactly how I envisioned things transpiring the first time I got you undressed,” Jake added. He reached out and tucked a loose strand of Sam’s hair behind her ear. His touch was tender as his fingers brushed across her cheek. Sam leaned into his hand.

  “You really weren't stealing my clients?” she said after a long silence.

  He nodded, unblinking; his face was sincere. Sam nestled closer to him and he responded by wrapping his strong arms more tightly around her. His skin against hers felt good, and the burning pins and needles she had felt in her skin as it regained sensation were replaced by a pleasing tingle. She felt like she was beginning to thaw; her body stopped shaking uncontrollably and her skin no longer ached, even her mind was beginning to clear the frozen fog.

  “Why did you come here?” Sam broke the long silence.

  “For you.” Jake smiled. “I told you, I like you. I meant it. And—I was worried.”

  “That's the second time then.”

  “Huh?”

  “That you've saved me today. Thank you.” Sam crossed the millimeters between them to kiss Jake Pane, for the second time that night. It was a kiss filled with promise, at first tender and then hungry. Jake's lips were the perfect combination of soft and firm. His fingers slipped through her hair as he intensified the kiss. Sam yielded to him until their passion was unmatched by even the power of the blizzard outside. Then he tempered the heat, until he was just brushing his lips lightly over hers. Finally, he pulled away. He ran his fingers along her hairline and over her cheek.