by Stacy Gail
Mia sighed, and the sound of it held all the warring emotions inside of her. She had to be honest. Even if Quinn hadn’t kissed her, she still would have felt conflicted. From the moment he’d lowered his hood, everything that was girlie in her went on a fluttering, squealing rampage. Men like Quinn Kingfisher had a knack for making a woman’s panties heat up. He was something else again, with his thick, silky hair flowing over brawny shoulders, midnight blue eyes and a lean, long-limbed body. He made her feel petite even when she was in heels, a feat Jackson had never accomplished since he was shorter than her when she wore even the smallest heel. That was why Jackson had forbidden her to wear anything other than flats whenever they went out together in public.
Nothing was wrong with Quinn Kingfisher. His looks, his undeniable charisma, his height, even his determination to look after her and the other stranded passengers when he’d had no reason to get out of his warm bed—all of it hit her internal happy buttons in the worst damn way.
But it wasn’t right. She couldn’t be attracted to a man who wasn’t her fiancée. Not only did that make her just this side of slutty, it also made her disloyal.
Being slutty was one thing. Being disloyal was unforgivable.
And there it was, the reason she didn’t want to talk to Quinn. If she talked to him, she’d have to be in the same room with him. If she was in the same room with him, it was entirely possible her clothes would spontaneously fly off while she full-on body-tackled him.
So, no. She didn’t want to talk to him.
But damn it, she needed a freaking power cord.
She could do this, Mia thought, pumping herself up as she forced herself toward the door. Just a quick request, preferably while standing in a doorway with a whole room separating them, and that would be that. Simple.
Yanking the door open, she motored through and crashed headlong into Quinn, his hand raised to knock on her door.
“Whoa.” Quickly he caught her by the shoulders, and the warmth of his hands seeped into her skin. “Talk about timing.”
“No kidding.” Bad timing, to be specific. But that seemed to be her lot in life since she’d started this journey. “Sorry. You okay?”
“I think I’ll live.” His eyes were trained on her in that unblinking way that made her want to smooth her hair and moisten her lips. Then his hands slid from her shoulders to her elbows, and the need became overwhelming. “This shirt you’re wearing…it’s great how it matches your eyes, but it’s way too thin for this climate. You need thicker clothes if you want to stay warm around here.”
Since it was profoundly inappropriate to mention she was plenty warm as long as he was touching her, she searched her brain for something safe to say. “If I get too cold, I’ll just wrap myself up in the coat you’re letting me borrow.”
“We can do better than that.” He got out his phone and tapped the screen. “What are your sizes, top and bottom? Oh, and shoe size. You can’t go anywhere in those boots. Don’t get me wrong, the heels make your ass and legs look like the eighth wonder of the world, but they’re not practical when it comes to slogging through ice and snow.”
“You can’t say things like that,” she managed faintly, even as she fought the absurd desire to run her hands down the ass he’d just admired. “I’m an engaged woman.”
“If you were a woman who was engaged to a man who was serious about it, he’d do what I would do and tag you as unavailable. He didn’t, so you are.”
It took her a moment to catch up to his meaning. “I’m not available.”
“Then maybe you should tell your hands that, since they’re holding onto me. Not that I’m complaining,” he added when she gasped and jerked her hands away from his hips, where they’d been resting since she’d crashed into him. “I like how easily we fit together, Red. I think maybe you like it too, but right now you’re not sure where you are or what’s going on, so your caution’s understandable. When you feel more secure and figure out what you want, I’ll be here.”
“What I want is a power cord for my damn phone because I was an idiot and left mine behind at the school,” she said, sounding so prim and snappish, she managed to piss herself off. With a long sigh she took half a step back physically from him and one huge step back mentally. Being a bitch wasn’t going to help matters any, but it would make them worse, and she was so done with her situation getting worse. “I’m just so mad at myself. I have an amazing memory, but I forgot something as basic as a power cord, can you believe it? Talk about stupid.”
“Nah, not stupid. Exhausted and barely functioning, but not stupid.” Clearly taking her half-step back as an invitation, Quinn strolled into her room, only to stop dead and stare at the bed. “You made your bed?”
“What? Oh. Yeah.” Distractedly she began scooping items back into her purse where they belonged then dropped her now-dead phone onto the bed in its place. “I thought this was your house, so I wanted to leave what I’d assumed was your guest room in the same shape in which I’d found it. I’ll still do that, of course,” she hastened to assure him while he just stared at her, not sure what his problem was. “I don’t expect anyone to come along and wait on me just because this is a resort and not a private home. I’m sure you don’t have a full staff yet, and I’m more than capable of pulling off a mean hospital corner.”
He continued to stare at her. “Wow.”
“Wow, what?”
He shook his head. “Let’s review. You’re not sloppy, your ass looks great in heels, you try to help people like that poor little pregnant girl and that tired elderly lady, you lost a cord while offering it up for others to use, you can legal-ninja anyone who pisses you off, you’re a dangerous kind of good, and you’ve got hair that makes me want to play with it for hours on end. Damn.” Without warning, he reached out and poked a finger into her cheek.
She snapped her head back. “Hey—”
“Yep, you’re real. I didn’t think you were, but you’re definitely here, standing right the hell in front of me. It’s hard to believe you exist.”
She blinked, her indignation melting under a wave of bewilderment. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re like the perfect woman. Were you able to make your calls?” As he spoke, he reached over to pluck her phone off the bed to examine it.
“Uh, I just wanted to make one call, and yes, I managed to squeak it in.” Perfect woman? Was he joking? Obviously he had to be, since they were strangers and she was far from perfect. But as she studied his expression, she had the weirdest feeling he was serious. “My aunt would have been expecting me to walk in bright and early Tuesday morning, and since it’s looking like I won’t be able to do that, she needed to know what was going on.”
His gaze came up to nail her to the spot. “You mean you didn’t call your boyfriend or your parents?”
“Fiancée, not boyfriend. And my father moved to Florida with his wife and stepchildren years ago. It’s just me and my aunt in Chicago.”
He nodded absently. “Won’t your man be worried about you when he doesn’t hear from you?”
Discomfort began to do a slow burn beneath her skin. “I was going to surprise Jackson. He doesn’t know I was en route to him, so he won’t be worried about me.”
“He’ll still want to know where you are and how you’re doing, though.”
Because that was how Quinn would be with his woman, she realized as the burn began to hurt all the way to the bone. No way was he going to understand that Jackson hadn’t thought to get in touch with her, not even via text, in months.
And damn it all, she didn’t understand it either.
She cleared her throat and nodded at the phone in his hand. “So, um, do you happen to have a power cord I could borrow?”
He flipped her phone around in one large mitt and caught it without looking at it. “You didn’t even think about calling him, did you? It didn’t even cross your mind. Which means that he didn’t cross your mind.”
“There was no need t
o call him.” And there was certainly no need to admit he was right.
“When you’re separated from your man, you don’t need a reason to call him, Mia. You do it because you want to. But you didn’t, and you don’t seem to expect him to call you, considering how calm you are about having a dead phone.”
“What do you expect me to do, throw a fit? I told you, I’m not a crier.”
“You’re also not missing your man.”
“What I’m missing is a way to juice up my phone,” she said loudly, and this time she did sound desperate. Not to get her phone recharged. She was just this side of frantic to bring this stupid conversation to a close. “Would you mind if I borrowed your power cord?”
“You can borrow it, but it won’t do you any good. I’m latest generation Android, you’re iPhone, and my cord won’t work on yours. So,” he went on while she groaned, “might as well sit back and enjoy your surroundings without all those pesky distractions of the outside world. Who knows? You might even wind up loving it here.”
Chapter Six
Mia had to hand it to Quinn. Everything at Whiteout Mountain was top-notch. Another one of his relatives—a snow-dusted young man by the name of Otto—brought in a massive box of what was clearly resort shop merchandise. To Mia’s eyes, that box was a veritable cornucopia of wonders. It included a bright red parka with the Whiteout Mountain logo on the left chest, a half dozen pairs of thick socks, underwear, yoga pants and hoodies also carrying the Whiteout Mountain logo, flannel pajamas, a robe and slippers, sweatpants, mittens, band-style ear-warmers and a slouchy knit ski beanie. She was also surprised to find a toiletry bag that had to have been packed by a female hand, as it contained everything a woman might need in an emergency.
There was so much, in fact, that Mia was torn between delight and horror that she was causing this family so much trouble right when they were getting ready to open a new business. Immediately she’d tried to give Quinn a credit card to pay for whatever bill she was racking up, but he told her, just as immediately, to put it the hell away and shut the fuck up.
Diplomacy. He’d probably never had the opportunity to look it up in the dictionary.
Come to find out, she valued his thoughtfulness far more than his diplomatic skills when it came time to getting ready for bed and she had warm pajamas and thick socks to crawl into. Night fell surprisingly early in the Montana mountains, and after making a simple dinner of potato and bacon soup and sandwiches for Quinn and herself, she’d soon discovered that her fatigue hadn’t been fully assuaged. After cleaning up the kitchen, she’d left Quinn to his own devices as she headed off to bed. He’d barely waved at her as he sat at the dining table, busily typing on a laptop while he talked with someone named Chip on speaker phone about helicopters, independent contractors and liability insurance.
The last thing she remembered as she drifted off to sleep was the faint, deep hum of Quinn’s masculine voice rumbling through the bedroom door. It was odd, how soothing that sound was. So soothing, in fact, that every muscle in her body relaxed as she sank into deep sleep.
Gray light filtered in through the floor-to-ceiling windows as she opened her eyes. A quick glance at the bed clock told her it was half past eight, and a sense of profound wellbeing slipped through her. Well-fed, cozy warm and fully rested. It was amazing how a few simple things like that made everything right in the world.
She bounded out of bed, made it up, then headed straight for the bathroom, clothes in hand. But at the bathroom’s threshold she paused, thunderstruck, as she stared out the windows. Yesterday there had been nothing to see—just pure, furious white that had made it seem like she’d somehow managed to land in the Arctic. But now the snow was falling more gently over a world that was blanketed in at least three feet of the white stuff. Evergreen trees she hadn’t even known were there covered much of the mountain and nearby terrain, their branches heavily laden with snow. She couldn’t quite see the mountain in its entirety thanks to the gray-white sky; the combination of snow and the low-hanging clouds smothered its top, but she could see a couple ski lifts cutting cleanly through the swath of trees, the land clear and white below them.
The sight of it made her want to break out her happy dance. At last, that bitch of a storm was easing. As soon as the roads were safe enough to navigate, she would be back on her way to Seattle.
And away from Whiteout Mountain.
Some of her enthusiasm dimmed as she showered and did her toilette, dried and braided her impossible hair, then dressed in jeans, thick socks and the snow boots that felt like a cushiony dream, a turtleneck and a white hoodie with the resort’s logo on the back. It really was a shame she didn’t have the time or the opportunity to explore this area, she thought, heading out into the silent chalet. She’d never been outside of Chicago, and the rugged mountainous country she was getting a glimpse of beyond the windows piqued her curiosity. She’d be the first to admit she wasn’t exactly adventurous. Navigating The Loop at rush hour was about as adventurous as she got. But the sight of all that wild mountain wilderness right outside her door called to her in ways she’d never experienced before.
She poked through the kitchen’s provisions and was pleased to find all the makings for what she wanted for breakfast—blueberry pancakes and bacon. Making a mental note to thank Olivia for stocking the kitchen so thoroughly, she got to work, getting the coffeemaker going as she went. She hummed “Winter Wonderland” to herself as she fried off the bacon, then set it in a slow oven to keep it warm before turning her attention to the pancakes, all the while wondering if Quinn even liked blueberry pancakes. She’d hold some plain batter back just in case he wasn’t a fan—
“Mm. Morning.”
“Good morn—” She broke off in shock as Quinn slid an arm around her waist and a chin rested heavily on her shoulder. He really was a touchy-feely kind of guy. “Uh, good morning.”
Mm-hm.” The pressure of his chin on her shoulder increased, and she chanced turning her head just enough to see his eyes were closed and he looked more asleep than awake. “Bacon. Smell it.”
Mia relaxed enough to grin. Too bad the act was completely lost on him, since his eyes were still closed. “I’ve got a nice, big plate of bacon keeping warm in the oven. You’re not a morning person, are you?”
“Mornings suck.”
“Even mornings that start out with coffee, bacon and blueberry pancakes?”
“Mm.” At last one eye cracked blearily open. “Food. Good.”
She had to laugh at his current inability to string together a complex sentence, and turned him bodily toward the dining area. “Go sit down and I’ll feed you. And don’t worry, I promise I won’t even attempt to talk to you until you’ve had at least one gigantic cup of coffee, if not more.”
“Perfect woman,” he muttered and stumbled his way out of the kitchen.
In short order she had steaming hot food and coffee on the table, then had to put the fork in his hand when he just sat there in a daze. It reminded her powerfully of when he had helped her feed herself at The Diner Bell. She’d been too out of it at the time to appreciate how intimate his actions had been, or to recognize that he wasn’t the kind of guy who let things like social niceties get in his way. After all, he’d known her less than twenty-four hours before he was telling her his opinion on her fiancée and how she ran her life.
And, of course, kissing her.
As relatively chaste as that kiss was, she still hadn’t gotten over it.
With her own coffee mug in hand, she slid into the chair beside him, the only seat left available to her that still had a nice view of the window. True to her word, she didn’t speak until he’d gotten most of his coffee down, along with half his pancakes and all the bacon. When she topped off his coffee and sat back down, he raised his mug to her in a quick salute. “Morning, Mia. How’d you sleep?”
“Ah, he’s awake.” With a wide smile she stirred another spoonful of sugar into her own coffee. “I had the best sleep I think I�
�ve had since I was a baby. You?”
“When I finally got to bed around one, I slept great.”
That made her smile vanish. Poor guy. “Why so late?”
“It takes one hell of a lot of man hours to get a project like a ski resort up and running. Right now my biggest challenge is to get a reputable helicopter service signed up to do heli-skiing packages to a high-country glacier we’ve managed to get exclusive rights to. Right now the biggest hiccup is who pays for the insurance—them, or us. And considering that this activity is the most extreme in the world of Alpine sports, insurance prices are a bitch.”
“I’ve seen people do that on TV,” she said after polishing off the last of her pancakes. “Looks very cool, but very scary. I can’t imagine being dropped off in the middle of nowhere to ski in places that can’t be reached by any other means.”
“But then you’ve never skied before. Unless there’s a mountain in Chicago I don’t know about?”
“Nope, no mountain and no alpine skiing. I did try waterskiing a few times back in high school and I wasn’t half-bad at it. I would think that snow skiing would be kind of like that.”
“It’s easier than waterskiing, which you’ll find out when I teach you the basics.”
That got her attention. “Wait, what?”
“Even if it doesn’t start to blizzard again, you’re still going to be here for a couple more days,” he said with a careless shrug, glancing out the window at the still-falling snow. “If I have time later on today, I’ll take you out to the beginner slopes. I’d be interested in having your feedback on it anyway—get your gut reaction to everything around you, from your surroundings to the rental equipment and so on. You’re kind of like a trial-run guest. Anything and everything that bugs you, I need to know about.”
