by Jean Oram
He loomed closer, certain he knew which final button to push. He’d get too near, make her uncomfortable enough with a few suave moves, and she’d avoid him until the end of time, righting his world once again.
She crossed her arms over her chest, holding her ground. “I don’t like you.” When he didn’t respond, she jabbed him in the chest with a long fingernail, glossy with layers of perfect polish.
“You’re not the first,” he said, catching her finger, “and you won’t be the last.”
“You imply that because I’m a woman I’m weak and can’t possibly have achieved anything worthwhile.” She wrenched her finger out of his grip, her arm flying backward as he released it.
“Simone,” one of the sisters warned.
“No,” she said, focusing on Josh, “I know your type. You act all smooth and fun, but you can’t take it when push comes to shove. You can’t handle the tough stuff and you’re not man enough to do what feels right in your heart.”
He felt shaky, her digs striking chords of truth, and he was getting the feeling she’d go on all night—or at least until she had him strung up by his nuts, which wouldn’t take long at this rate.
“You probably say you love someone, but when the chips are down, you can’t handle a strong woman. You think you’re a real man, but you’re not.”
Josh rubbed his forehead. “That’s your issue, not mine.”
“No it isn’t, and I can see it all over you, plain as day. You’re just like the others, so quit playing games with me. I know that look. I know what it says.”
He decided to up his approach, since there didn’t seem anything to lose, and she was starting to strike too close to home. He eased even closer, feeling like a primal cat tracking down his prey. Josh dragged his gaze up her body, allowing his eyes to fill with desire and sensuality. “And what is my look implying now?”
She gave a series of flustered blinks, her cheeks flushed.
The whole room had gone silent, and he was starting to wonder if he’d find himself seeking shelter in a snowdrift until the blizzard was over and he could escape.
“Tell me, Simone. Are you afraid of our chemistry?” Josh ran a hand down her arm. She shivered but didn’t quite push away. Risking it, he tipped up her chin, aligning his lips with hers. He paused there, hovering over her, curious whether she would meet him halfway or whether the group surrounding them would break it up.
“You’re a tease.” She crossed her arms, not pulling away, that adorable flush spreading all the way to her ears.
“Yeah?”
“And I don’t like you.”
“You’ve already said that.”
Knowing he should break contact, he tried to move away, but found he couldn’t seem to release her. He must have taken a bigger bump to the head than he’d thought, because right now he wanted her to like him. A lot.
He knew better, though. Women like Simone were too much work to handle, making him fall back on his basic, dominant side when he knew he could be so much more. But right now, as the heat from the fireplace warmed them, all he could do was wonder what her lips tasted like. Salty? Like lip gloss? A perfect blend of something uniquely Simone?
“Just like in high school,” she said quietly. “Try to make the girls swoon, then walk away laughing.”
He kissed her lightly, his lips tingling with the electric pulse that came off her in waves. She tasted…like snowstorms and cherries.
He broke the kiss, delighted she’d allowed it. He murmured, “I’m not laughing.”
Her dark eyes were black with consternation. “Neither am I.”
Still holding her chin, he kissed her once more, quickly, wanting to see if that ticklish jolt would happen again when their lips met.
It did.
He made himself back away before he could wrap his arms around her and claim her in a stupid move he’d likely regret for the rest of his miserable life.
“Well, uh, that was fun,” Maya said, rolling her shoulders before giving everyone a big smile, attempting to draw attention away from the now dissolved fight. “Did you know Simone made my wedding gown? Gave me the sister rate—free.”
“Enough about the dress, Maya,” Daphne said with a grumpy frown, arms wrapped tight around her slight frame. “We’ve heard about it eight hundred times.”
Josh blinked at the women, trying to get his head around the fact that he’d just tenderly hate-kissed Simone in front of everyone in an attempt to get her to eff off. What on earth had just happened?
He should never have come out here tonight. He wanted to hold Simone’s hand and snuggle on the couch. Which was not his style. At. All.
He rubbed the bump on the back of his head and went to the kitchen for a beer, before changing his mind and snagging a bottle of iced tea instead. If the storm cleared up he’d have to leave—no matter the time of day—and would need his wits about him in order to do so safely.
The kitchen was freezing, but he took a moment alone to think. He never let a woman get that far under his skin. And so quickly. Simone had found buttons to push that he hadn’t even known he had. How had she turned everything around on him?
“Right, well, did I tell you all I have plans for tomorrow?” Maya was saying in the other room. “And those plans do not include me being stuck on this island. All of us in this tiny living room all night trying to stay warm? Give me a real place to sleep.” From the doorway Josh saw her playfully whack her husband on the shoulder. “Get us out of here, would you?”
Figuring it was safe to rejoin everyone, Josh drifted back to the spot in front of the fireplace, warming his hands, turning to face the group. He could feel Simone’s presence beside him as surely as a touch. He glanced at her, but she looked away, down and to the left as though the flooring was suddenly of utmost interest. For a second he felt guilty. There was an air of vulnerability to her now, as though their fight had been about proving something important to herself and losing had set her back. He just about reached out to comfort her, to let her know it wasn’t personal, when she straightened her shoulders and put on the visage of entitled, powerful woman again.
“Good idea on getting out of here,” Simone said. “What do you have on tap for us, Mr. Connor MacKenzie?”
“Put in an order with Mother Nature, ladies,” Connor replied drily. “It doesn’t matter how many bucks I have, they won’t do us any good in this weather.”
“Oh, come on,” Maya said with a pout.
“Spitfire…” Connor warned. But she grinned at him and he grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her in for a long, deep kiss that had everyone turning away to give them privacy.
Josh glanced around the large room. There were worse places the dozen of them could be stuck; and he knew, because he’d been stuck there. And given the chance, he’d always choose cold over too much heat. Forest fires did that to a guy.
“It’s not so bad here,” he said. The place was rustic, over a century old, but it had been built well and was standing the test of time like a trooper.
“It would be even better if it had a working flush toilet,” Simone said.
“Fully winterized,” Maya chimed in with a sigh. “Central heat, running water.” She was ticking things off on her fingers and Josh got the impression she wasn’t the cottage’s biggest fan.
Simone added, “At least the generator hasn’t crapped out yet, so we have electricity.”
“The guys got us a new one last fall,” Daphne said.
“That’s why it’s so quiet!” Simone exclaimed. “Nice work, men.”
Josh bit his bottom lip, feeling like a damn puppy for wanting some praise from her, too. She had definitely worked her way under his skin.
“We could use heated bedrooms so Hailey could rest her back in a real bed tonight,” Simone added.
Finian, Connor, Tristen, and Evander shared a look, and Josh realized they were up to something. He eased himself into a chair so that the sudden change in altitude wouldn’t send the lump on h
is head throbbing, and waited for their surprise to unfold.
“What?” Maya demanded. “What was that look about? What did you do?”
“We,” Connor began, glancing at the other men, who nodded their consent for him to continue, “got you a little something for Christmas.”
“Is that what’s in Evander’s package?” Melanie asked. Pink rose up the big bodyguard’s neck and he avoided eye contact with anyone in the group.
“I thought the generator was our gift,” Daphne interrupted, watching Evander carefully, her body language suggesting that things might not be wonderful in their little paradise.
“It was, but there’s more.” Evander placed a hand on her hip, drawing her close.
The women were circling the men, eyes alight in anticipation of the upcoming surprise.
“What is it? What is it?” Tigger chanted, dancing around the room. Even Dot was looking curious, her head popping out of the manga book she’d been reading.
Simone leaned closer to Josh. “You drove a snowmobile here, right?”
He nodded, giving her a look. She knew full well he’d come on his sled. Did he have to worry about her taking off with it?
She glanced over at the occupied sisters. “I’ll pay you to get me home by eight-thirty tomorrow morning if these monkeys can’t get their helicopters and billion-dollar plans working by then.”
“Yeah?” Josh lifted his eyebrows, assessing her. She smoothed her sweater over her chest, enhancing the smallness of her waist and the fullness of her breasts. He inhaled, trying to quell the stir her body was creating within him.
What was so important that she’d flip on a dime, turning him from enemy number one to an elite member of her inner circle? Were his kisses that amazing?
While he’d like to think so, he couldn’t help but wonder what she was up to.
“Why?” he asked.
Her large eyes lifted to meet his and he felt himself soften at their quiet desperation.
Damn woman.
“Name your price,” she countered. She flicked her hand impatiently when he didn’t reply. “How much?”
Behind Simone the sisters gasped at what was surely some exorbitant gift.
“You can’t afford me.” As tempting as it was to enter her inner circle, Josh would have to be nuts to succumb. She was trouble and he’d do well to remember that.
“Try me,” she challenged, her voice low.
Fine. Time to see how serious she was. If she was going to push, he was going to make it worth his while being stuck with her. “A thousand.”
“Dollars?” she confirmed, giving him a little bit of sass. Implying that his amount was a pittance and well below her expectations.
“If you give me attitude, two thousand.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
Simone echoed his pose. “Three.”
Josh turned his palms upward in question. What on earth kind of bargaining was that? He hoped she didn’t do her own negotiations for those dresses she made. Then again, the Summer sisters had said she’d given them away.
The room emptied around them, leaving Josh and Simone alone. There was only one reason a woman would pay three thousand dollars for a twenty-minute snowmobile ride.
“Are you in trouble?”
She seemed taken aback before going on the defensive. “I need to be home by eighty-thirty. Can you make it happen or not?”
“If the helicopter can’t come get us by then, I doubt it will be safe for us to make our way across the lake on a snowmobile.”
“So you’re not man enough?” she said, tossing her head in challenge.
A fight flared up inside him, but he reminded himself that a trip across the ice in sketchy weather wasn’t worth anything if you didn’t make it out alive.
“Well?” she prompted.
Simone Pascal was a piece of work. A beautiful piece of work.
But she was calling him a wuss. Not verbatim, but essentially that was the message. Josh felt the muscles in his jaw flex as he fought the mighty urge to show Simone just how much of a man he was.
But years of firefighting training had taught him to push those emotions aside. The ego. The history and scars from the past that made men do stupid things, putting themselves at risk—whether with forest fires or with women.
He stared down at Simone, wanting to run his fingers through her rich dark hair. She had pushed out her chest while making her pitch and he found his gaze drawn to their perfect curves. Irresistible. If she wasn’t the exact opposite of what he needed, he’d probably try and get her into bed.
“Why are you willing to risk both our lives to get home by a certain time?” he asked.
“It’s none of your business.”
“Oh, I think it is.”
“Can you or can you not?”
Why would a smart women take such a risk? Both in high school and over the past hour she hadn’t struck him as a great risk taker. It was true she was the kind of woman who came along and crushed barriers that stood in people’s way, but not without knowing all the angles first. She had single-handedly convinced the teachers of their high school to allow dances to be held again after a couple of Josh’s buddies had become drunk and caused a scene. She’d been a hero.
But right now? The desperation radiating off her told him she might not have considered all the angles this time.
“Why?” he insisted.
“Can you do it or not?”
“It’s risky.”
“Do I need to look elsewhere?”
A loud voice in the back of his head shouted, “No!” And he was pretty sure it wasn’t just because she was the type to take the snowshoes above the mantel and set off on her own to try and meet her goal—despite the dangers. Her mind was set and all he could do was cushion any possible blows that would come her way. He had to keep her safe.
“So?” she asked, pressing him for an answer. “Will you?”
“I’m your best bet, Simone.”
She blinked and started as though she had been shocked, her gaze falling from his pectorals to the floor. Just as quickly, she looked up, meeting his eyes, judging his sincerity. “Is that a yes?”
“If whatever you need to do is worth risking your life for, then, yes, I will do my best to get you there while keeping you safe.”
She nodded briskly, smoothing her hands over her locks, her long, graceful fingers capturing his attention. He imagined her getting onto the back of his snowmobile in the morning, wrapping her arms around his waist, locked together as they raced across the lake. She would feel good, and he knew his brain would keep him up all night imagining the feel of her curves molded against him. That and procuring scenarios where she’d have to straddle him, face-to-face, instead of sitting behind him.
He needed to get her and her sexy ass off this island before she crowbarred her way into his life.
She licked her lips, her mouth dropping open as she prepared to speak, and his groin tightened involuntarily.
“No,” he breathed, trying to look away from her moist lips. “We don’t go tonight. I make the calls.”
Her brow furrowed.
“It’s dark. There’s a whiteout, which means we could get lost just trying to find the snowmobile. You still have twelve hours before you have to be home. We’ll find our window out of here.”
“Promise?” she asked softly, a rare vulnerability peeking through.
“Yeah. Promise.”
The pinched expression that had increased during their conversation washed away and she stood on tiptoe, one hand against his chest. He froze, her scent locked into his mind as she gently brushed her lips against his cheek. She smiled, an electric hum hitting his core.
“Thanks.”
There were no two ways about it. That woman was trouble.
* * *
The men, it turned out, had purchased electric heat for each of the bedrooms, so the Summers could start spending nights on Nymph Island during the shoulder season—which, quite frankly,
was handy timing. Everyone in the cottage except Josh seemed to be rolling in cash, and now even Simone was offering him stupid amounts of it for a short snowmobile ride.
His head felt tight and he wasn’t sure if it was the cumulative impact of the constant background throbbing of his goose egg or simply the fact that everyone around him seemed to be successfully pursuing the things they wanted to do with their lives and he wasn’t.
Tigger had sneaked another juice box and Simone placed it on the mantel beside two others and flopped into the armchair opposite him. Why did she keep sitting beside him? He wasn’t up for another damn fight with her. He got that it was difficult sitting with the lovebirds, who had taken over the whole place from the couch behind their armchairs to the card table and sitting nook, but he needed a break.
“I like this one!” Tigger called, waving his phone in the air. She was tucked into the window seat by the rattling shutters, studying photos of his accessories.
“Me, too,” he replied, unable to focus on the moving device. “What do you do for a living? You make dresses?” he asked Simone, tending to the fire so no one else would mess with it. Everyone seemed to toss logs in willy-nilly, sending sparks onto the extended hearth, then sweeping them up with a bristle broom. Talk about fire hazard. He’d had to stomp out more than one spark on the knotted rug at his feet. The worst of it was this place was essentially a pile of kindling waiting for a lit match to fall.
“Yes. And I have a boutique.” Simone turned in her seat, addressing Connor. “Hasn’t it cleared off yet? What kind of weather can helicopters fly in?”
“Afraid to pay up?” Josh joked quietly. He could still feel the burn of her kiss, where her lips had lingered when she’d thanked him only minutes ago. He had a suspicion he’d be enjoying the phantom sensation of her touch for hours, days, weeks.
“Not this,” Connor replied.
“What do you sell in your boutique?” Josh asked, attempting to distract Simone into relaxing.
“I own it, run it, stock it,” she replied simply, not answering his question. Her hands were pressed tight between her thighs, her shoulders hunched forward.
