by Lisa Jackson
“Good.”
“I don’t know what’s ‘good’ about it.”
He propelled her toward the elevators, along with the crush of other employees. “I have a proposition for you,” he whispered in her ear as elevator doors whispered shut.
“That sounds interesting,” she murmured.
“It is, believe me.”
The elevator groaned to a stop at the bottom floor, and the doors opened. Jostled by the tightly packed crowd, Kimberly let Jake guide her to the corner of the garage where his Bronco was parked next to her car.
“Okay, McGowan. Spit it out,” she said, her mood lightened just because she was with him. “What’s the proposition?”
“How about going skiing with me?”
“Tonight?” Kimberly asked, shivering from the cold and the unheated garage.
“Why not?”
“Well, because it’s dark and cold and a blizzard.”
“Sounds perfect for night skiing to me,” he said, a lazy smile slashing insolently across his face.
“I’ve never been night skiing in my life—”
“You haven’t been living then. You do ski, don’t you?”
“Once upon a time. But it’s been years.”
“You have gear?”
“Somewhere. But I really can’t. Lindsay’s—”
“Staying with Arlene and Lyle,” he finished for her. “She said so the other night. So, unless you have any other excuses . . .”
She wanted to find some. But Arlene’s advice rang in her ears as clearly as silver bells. Kick up your heels—live a little.
Glancing up at him, she asked, “And what’s in it for me? You said a proposition, right? Both parties benefit.”
“Why, you, Ms. Bennett, get my time and attention for the next six to eight hours.”
“How can I say no?” she quipped sarcastically.
“You can’t.” His gray eyes caught in the dim light and fairly twinkled.
“I must be out of my mind,” she muttered.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“A reluctant yes,” she qualified.
“Then let’s get going. I’ll follow you to your place.”
Wondering if she’d truly lost her senses, Kimberly climbed behind the wheel of her Mercedes and watched as Jake moved to his Bronco. Smiling, she started the engine of her car and backed out of her parking space, glancing toward the elevator shaft where Bill Zealander, Wall Street Journal and black umbrella tucked under his arm, stood glaring at her.
No doubt he’d watched the entire exchange. There was a chance he may have heard snatches of their conversation.
Kimberly shuddered. The expression on his face was cruel and calculating.
You’ve done nothing wrong, she reminded herself as she put the car in gear, forced a smile and waved to Zealander, though he didn’t acknowledge her wave.
The drive home was a nightmare. Added to the normal congestion of Friday afternoon rush hour was the anxiety caused by the snow and slush turning to ice as night fell. Cars crept along at a snail’s pace. Though the houseboats on the river glowed with colorful Christmas lights reflected on the inky water, the spirit of the coming season seemed lost in the chaos of traffic forcing its way across the Sellwood Bridge.
By the time Kimberly pulled into her driveway, she was a nervous wreck. She told herself it was because of the weather and didn’t have anything to do with Jake McGowan or the fact that she’d agreed to spend the evening with him. But even as the thought drifted through her mind, she knew she was lying to herself. She was excited at the prospect of being alone with him.
As she turned off the engine, she heard his car roar down the street and saw the flash of headlights in her rearview mirror.
He climbed out of his car at the same moment she did, following her to the back door, their boots crunching in the heavy snow. The eaves were hung with icicles. Dead leaves of the clematis had been trapped in the crystal-like prisons.
“This isn’t a smart thing to do,” Kimberly said, shivering as she unlocked the door.
“What isn’t?”
“Driving in this mess. The road to the mountain must be treacherous.”
“I checked. It’s been plowed and sanded.”
“When?” She glanced pointedly at the shower of snowflakes still drifting to the ground before she shoved open the door and stepped into the relative warmth of the kitchen. “It’s been snowing all day.”
“No problem,” he assured her. “I’ve got four-wheel drive. This’ll be a walk in the park.”
“Sure.”
His gaze scanned the kitchen, eyeing the coffee pot. “You got a thermos?”
“Under the sink.”
“You don’t mind if I heat this up and bring it along?” he asked, lifting the pot. The cold coffee sloshing the glass container.
“Be my guest.” She hung her coat and then spied a large envelope with her name scrawled crudely across the white surface. Opening it, she found a piece of tablet paper cut into the shape of a snowflake. Around the cut out diamonds and triangles Lindsay had written “I love you” in uneven, oversized letters. Kimberly’s heart turned over. She reached for her phone and quickly punched out a number.
Arlene finally answered on the fifth ring. “Hello?”
“Hi. How’s it going?”
“Just fine,” Arlene said with a hearty chuckle. “We’ve already built a snowman, pulled out the Christmas candles and arranged the Nativity scene on the mantel. Now Lindsay’s insisting we put up our tree.”
“I know the feeling,” Kimberly said, resting her hips against the hall table and staring at the paper snowflake.
“You want to talk to her?”
“Can I? For just a second.”
“I’ll see if I can wrestle her away from the tree.”
Kimberly waited impatiently as Jake stepped into the hall. “Trouble?” he asked, suddenly concerned.
“No—”
“Mommy?” Lindsay said as she took the phone from Arlene.
Kimberly’s heart melted. “Hi, honey.”
“Did you get my surprise?” Lindsay asked, her voice lifting.
“I sure did. That’s why I called—to thank you. I’m going to take it to work on Monday and hang it in my office.”
“Are you really?”
“You bet. Now, are you being good?”
“Good as an angel,” Lindsay said emphatically. “That’s what they call me over here.”
“So I’ve heard,” she laughed. “I’ll see you in the morning, then. I love you.”
“Me, too.”
“Let me talk to Arlene again.”
“’Kay.”
With Arlene back on the line, Kimberly explained that she was planning to go skiing and would pick up Lindsay the next morning at ten.
“Just don’t rush over here,” Arlene remarked. “Lindsay’s doin’ a world of good for Lyle.”
“Thanks.”
After hanging up, she found Jake still lounging in the doorway between the hallway and kitchen. “How’s it going over there?” he asked.
“Good. I think I’ll have to pry Lindsay out of there with a crowbar tomorrow.”
Jake glanced down at the paper snowflake. “I doubt it,” he whispered, and the timbre of his voice touched a special spot in her heart. “It seems as if your daughter’s pretty stuck on you.” His eyes turned introspective.
“I hope so.” Kimberly met his eyes, lost for a minute in his silvery gaze, then cleared her throat and passed him in the hallway. “It’ll just take me a little while to find everything.”
“No hurry. As long as you can manage it in fifteen minutes.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” she said, grinning as she walked into her bedroom and closed the door. Then, to make up for lost time, she yanked off her leather boots and scrounged through her closet until she found the old ski bag. She’d shoved it into a dark corner years before. “How about that?” she murmured, tossing the ba
g onto the bed and unzipping it. Inside were insulated ski pants in a deep violet color, goggles, hat, sweater and long underwear.
Stripping out of her black suit, blouse and stockings, she crossed her fingers and hoped her outfit would fit. She hadn’t worn any of her ski clothes since long before Lindsay had been born. Though she weighed less than before her pregnancy, some of her weight seemed to have shifted.
However, a few minutes later she stood in front of the oval mirror on the bureau, her bibs and sweater were snug but not too tight.
Quickly she braided her hair away from her face and ignored the blush that colored her cheeks. Excited about the evening ahead, she couldn’t hide the sparkle in her eyes or keep herself from smiling.
By the time she found her ski boots and jacket in the front closet, Jake had reheated the coffee and filled her thermos. “My skis are in the garage,” she said, a bag of dry clothes slung over her arm.
His gaze slid over her before landing on her eyes. “Then what’re we waiting for?”
“A break in the storm? Reason to overcome insanity?”
“Trust me,” he said.
And she did. Whether it was foolish or not, she trusted this man with his slashing, enigmatic smile, his wise-beyond-his-years expression and observant eyes.
They found her skis, snapped them into the rack on his vehicle, and, still brushing snow from their hair and shoulders, climbed into the Bronco.
Through the slushy streets, beneath bare trees, past houses glowing in rainbows of Christmas lights, Jake guided the rig, heading east to the slopes of Mt. Hood. The wipers slapped away the falling snow, and quiet strains of holiday music sounded over the grind of the engine.
While Jake drove the Bronco through the darkened roads, Kimberly poured them each a cup of coffee. Handing him a cup, she asked, “Have you lived in Portland long?”
“Most of my life.”
“And your family?”
His jaw tightened a fraction as he switched lanes. “My folks died a few years ago.”
“No sisters or brothers?”
“Nope.”
She longed to ask for more, especially about his wife. She wanted to know so much about him, but he seemed to keep much of himself from her. Glancing through the foggy windshield, she wondered whether he had secrets he would ever share with her. “So, you’ve known Diane a long time?”
“Since law school.”
“And then?”
“We worked together downtown in a big firm.” A muscle pumped in his jaw. “She helped me through a few rough years. Got me into corporate law.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Why what?”
“Why the move from domestic relations?”
He pressed his lips together hard and downshifted quickly. “It seemed the thing to do,” he evaded, sliding her a glance. They headed out of the city, past rolling acres of farmland. Snow, adding quiet illumination to the night, drifted against fences and buildings.
“You were supposed to be one of the best family lawyers in the city,” Kimberly persisted.
He lifted a shoulder. “That’s a matter of opinion.”
“And you weren’t that crazy about taking my case.”
He slid a glance her way. “What is this? Twenty questions?”
Leaning against the door, she eyed him, his handsome, chiseled features, large eyes, strong chin now covered with a faint shadow. “Well, it’s only fair, since you seem to know everything about me.”
“Not yet.”
“But soon. I figured it was my turn, that I should know a little about you.”
“Not much to know.”
She thought for a minute, then asked the one question that had been on her mind for a long while. “Why haven’t you ever remarried?”
“Does the statement ‘I never met the right woman’ sound too cliché?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s true. That, and the fact that I’m not sure the institution of marriage is such a good idea.”
Kimberly’s brow inched up. “Why not?”
“Probably for the same reason you’ve given up on it.”
She had given up on marriage—that much was true. But since Jake had entered her life, she hadn’t found the idea of tying herself to one man so difficult to accept. But then, she didn’t allow herself to fantasize.
Jake continued. “Let’s just say my experience wasn’t so great. My wife wasn’t happy with me, and it didn’t last. As for my parents, they hung together, but it was a war zone most of the time.” He glanced her way. “Surely you feel the same.”
She shook her head and thought about the loving years she’d spent with her own family. “No, I think marriage can be perfect.”
He snorted. “You’ve changed your tune since Diane’s wedding.”
“I guess I did sound a little cynical.”
“A lot cynical.”
“Well, obviously you have to find the right person.” She frowned into her cup. “In my case, Robert wasn’t the one.”
“I’ll buy that,” he said dryly, but didn’t comment further.
Had his ex-wife wanted him so badly? Had he loved her so much that she’d soured him on marriage when she’d wanted a divorce? They drove in silence for a while, and the snow-covered farmland gave way to steeper hills. The road began to climb, winding through the foothills of the Cascade Mountains, past small towns decorated with lights, and tinsel and brightly lighted trees before the solitude of the forest closed around them.
Traffic slowed. The pavement was covered with packed snow and ice. Several cars pulled over, their drivers frantically chaining up.
Though Kimberly was white-knuckled whenever the Bronco slid on the icy pavement. Jake remained calm, and before seven o’clock he pulled into the crowded parking lot near the lodge. “We made it,” he said, patting her knee.
“Thank God.” Ignoring the warmth of his hand on her leg, she gulped the rest of her coffee. Jake opened the Bronco’s door and stepped into the eight inches of powdery snow.
Following his lead, she donned ski boots, mask and goggles before tromping, skis balanced on her shoulders, to the lodge.
“You hungry?” Jake asked as they clipped on their lift tickets.
“A little.”
“Want to eat now?”
She shook her head and surveyed the mountain. Stretched under the glow of colored lamps, the slopes gleamed in pristine invitation. “Let’s take a couple runs first.”
“I won’t argue with that.”
They skated to the left and after a short wait climbed onto icy chairs. Snowflakes caught in the few strands of hair that had escaped from Kimberly’s hat and lingered against her cheeks.
“Warm enough?” Jake asked. He draped one arm around her shoulders, giving her a hug.
“Yes.”
They were carried slowly up the hill, above the tops of majestic firs and hemlocks. Leafy branches, now laden with snow, moved slowly in the breeze. The sky was black, but lights illuminated the side of the mountain, showing off the white runs and craggy rocks of the higher elevations.
“It’s beautiful up here,” Kimberly breathed. “I’d forgotten.”
“And quiet. Sometimes I think it’s the solitude that’s so special,” he said. “Not many people here at night.”
He was right. She’d remembered weekend skiing, when the lift lines had taken longer than the run. But tonight, a week before the holiday break, the mountain wasn’t crowded. It seemed as if they were alone.
Jake’s arm tightened around her, and she felt a warmth deep inside stretching itself throughout her body. Relaxed and content, she wondered how much time she could spend with Jake and still feel this fascination for him.
He was the first man who had interested her since her divorce, and the intensity of her feelings was overwhelming. She’d never expected to fall in love again, but here, swinging over the treetops, feeling the serenity of the snow-draped forest, she felt a kinship with him that went far be
yond the bounds of mere friendship or, she thought ruefully, a professional relationship with her lawyer. The thought that she was falling in love nagged at her, but she ignored it. She couldn’t afford to fall in love. Not now. Not until Lindsay’s future with her was secure.
“Here we go.” Taking her gloved hand in his, he helped her ski down the ramp at the top of the run. “Ready?” he asked, stopping at a ridge.
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Okay. Show me your stuff.”
Trying her best to muster some self-confidence, she plunged her poles into the powder and pushed forward, feeling the exhilaration of the frigid air against her face as she skied down the hill. At first her legs were uncomfortable and awkward, and she was careful. But slowly, as she made her way down a wide, tiered bowl, she became more confident.
She saw Jake ski past her, then wait at the next ridge near a rustic wooden structure with a huge stone fireplace. Smoke curled from the chimney, and lights glowed through the misty, paned windows.
Breathless, Kimberly caught up with him. She could feel the color in her cheeks.
“You’re good,” he said in admiration.
“I’ve taken more than my share of lessons—and spills.”
“So, why’d you give it up?”
Kimberly wiped the snow from her goggles. “I got pregnant and didn’t want to fall, then Lindsay came along and I was caught up in diapers, rattles and bottles.” Thinking back to those years when her marriage had turned to ashes, she frowned and glanced toward the weathered, barn-like building. “What’s this?” she asked.
“The warming hut,” he said. “You can stop in here to get a drink or a doughnut and warm up.”
“Up here?” She gazed down the hill, where skiers, gliding along the snow far below, were barely visible. Groups in pairs and singles wound around the mountain. One man, dressed in navy blue from ski mask to boots, slid to a stop beside them and bent over to adjust his bindings. Kimberly didn’t pay much attention to him.
Jake was still explaining. “The warming hut can take the chill out of the lift ride. Sometimes it’s a blizzard up here.”
She believed him. Not far from the timberline above them, the ski run was long and steep. Smiling mischievously, she adjusted her goggles and said, “Come on, I’ll race you to the bottom.”
