The Accidental Mrs. Mackenzie

by Bonnie K. Winn

  Pushing open the huge double doors that led outside, she spotted Matt with two staffers. His truck was pulled into the wide circular drive and an ATV sat in the bed of the pickup. Swallowing her apprehension, Brynn ventured closer. Matt looked up for a moment, glanced back at the young man he was talking to, then looked again at Brynn.

  Nervously she swiped her hands against the legs of her jeans, feeling self-conscious in the tailored clothes. She smiled at him gamely, wishing the tour was already over. Always uncomfortable around men, she didn’t relish time spent alone with this one. Had it been Gregory—the man whose face she’d come to know as well as her own—it would be different. He would gently take her hand and walk with her along the paths they had separately jogged for months. Then he would—

  “Brynn. Brynn,” Matt repeated, wondering where she’d slipped off to. When she’d walked outside, it had taken a moment for him to recognize her. His eyes had been riveted by her impossibly long legs, the curve of her slender waist and the unmistakable flare of additional curves. And his gut had responded immediately with an instinctive jolt that didn’t feel even a fraction brotherly.

  The breeze blew back her hair, long dark strands that curled over her shoulders, revealing her features, obscured only by her gargantuan glasses. Matt had the ridiculous urge to pull them off, to see just what they hid. Instead, he tried again to catch her attention. “Earth to Brynn.”

  She flushed, apparently embarrassed she’d been caught daydreaming. “I’m sorry. I was thinking about something else.”

  “It’s all right.” He gestured at her new clothes. “Looks like you got outfitted for the day.”

  She ran a hand over the unfamiliar jeans. “Yes... They still seem strange.”

  “They don’t look strange.” He’d meant to sound casual, but instead his gaze lingered a fraction too long on her legs, before traveling upward to her face.

  Sudden awareness vibrated between them.

  But this time the urge to flee he’d seen in her expression combined with something else—something Matt knew he had to be imagining. That spark couldn’t be coming from his brother’s bride.

  Gregory. He had to remember his brother. He was the reason Matt was showing the property to Brynn. He was the reason she was here at all.

  “Are you ready, then?” Matt asked gruffly, turning away.

  Taken aback by his abrupt tone, she hastened toward the truck. “Yes. I didn’t mean to hold you up.”

  “I know. You don’t want to be any trouble.”

  “Yes, no. I mean, you’re right. I don’t.”

  It wasn’t her fault she made a simple pair of jeans look more appealing than the best of Victoria’s Secret. He muttered a reply as he opened the truck and waited for her to climb inside.

  Pulling away from the driveway, Matt couldn’t help noticing that she’d perched on the seat like a child taking her first train ride—staring at the sights eagerly. Withholding a sigh, he swallowed his own unreasonable attitude. “You can see one of the closer lifts right over there.”

  “Oh! And you can walk right out the front door of the lodge and climb on. What a clever idea!”

  Her enthusiasm was contagious. While the resort had always meant a lot to him, it wasn’t often he found outsiders who shared his enthusiasm. But then she wasn’t an outsider, he had to remind himself.

  Matt pointed up the sloping mountain. “And there’s the alpine slide, one of the off-season activities.”

  “Do you get many guests when it’s not ski season? Is there anything for them to do?”

  “We get more guests every year. We’ve begun advertising as a true four-season resort.” His tone turned wry. “And we find a few things for them to do—hiking, backpacking, kayaking—or you can ride the wind via sailboard.”

  “And that’s enough to get people to come way out here?”

  “We have trout fishing—three creeks run through Eagle Point. And there’s horseback riding, miles of alpine dirt roads and back-country trails for biking, and sailing, golfing. The mountains call to a lot of people. This summer we had a group of ornithologists....”

  “Birdwatchers,” she mused. “They would love it here, I’m sure.”

  “There’s a forty-nest great blue heron rookery not far from here. They were in birdwatcher heaven.”

  “Any other specialty groups?”

  “Plenty. We get a lot of people who want to explore ghost towns. We take them jeeping to deserted gold mines and old settlements in the high country that have been abandoned a long time ago.”

  “Really? What’s that like?”

  He resisted a grin, thinking of his own boyhood memories, and the lure of a ghost town no youngster could resist “Sometimes there’s not much to see besides a lot of tumbleweed. Other times, if you’re quiet and listen, you can almost hear the laughter of the old-timers.”

  “Or the pain,” she murmured, not seeming at all skeptical about the existence of ghostly laughter.

  “Maybe. I like to think they were happy. It was a simpler time.”

  She caught his inflection and slanted a grin at him. “Before tourists?”

  “Touché.”

  She smiled, enjoying the talk, enjoying him. “In other words, there are plenty of all-season activities.”

  He grunted an assent. “Course I didn’t tell you about one.”

  She angled toward him with interest. “What’s that?”

  “You can go listening.”

  “‘Listening’?” she echoed.

  “Yep.” He glanced her way, catching her gaze.

  “For what?” she asked, eyes wide with interest.

  “For bull elk and buck deer forming their harems.”

  ‘“Harems’?” she repeated before the meaning sank in. A fiery heat filled her face. “Oh.”

  He laughed—a rich masculine sound that filled the truck. “Think we have enough variety to interest everyone?”

  She fiddled with the unfamiliar denim of her jeans. “Certainly sounds like it.”

  Her embarrassment was painful to watch and he took pity on her. “Every season needs variety. In the winter we also have snowmobiling, cross-country skiing, ice-skating.”

  She spotted another ski lift, trying to tame the fire that still blazed in her cheeks. “But skiing’s still the big thing, isn’t it?”

  “It’s the main thrust of our business and always will be. We have trails for everyone—from beginner to enough black diamond runs to snatch your breath away.”

  Brynn craned her head to see the tops of the majestic mountains, covered in snow year-round, “It must be something to live around this all the time. Not that I don’t see mountains from Salt Lake, but these are so...immediate.”

  It was an unusual description, but one he felt himself. “Never could see why people would want to live in the city when they’re surrounded by mountains. The view would just make you want to escape that much more.”

  “I don’t think I ever felt exactly like escaping.” She glanced thoughtfully out the truck window. “But then I wasn’t raised here. I guess once this is in your blood, you could never live comfortably in the city.”

  “Gregory manages.”

  Her head jerked back toward him, then away again. “Yes, of course.”

  “But then you know that.”

  She didn’t meet his gaze, instead turning to stare again out the window. “Of course. I...tend to get swept up in new experiences, the sights, the sounds. I have a...rather active imagination.”

  “Is that why you became a cartoonist?” he asked, easily navigating the well-known road.

  Her face screwed into a mask of concentration. “That’s not a simple question. I’ve always loved drawing, even painting. And I fell in love with my first comic strip as soon as I could read. I loved all the daring, better-than-real-life things the characters got away with. I used to wish I could be like my favorites.”

  “Sort of an alter ego.”

  “Not many people understand t
hat,” Brynn exclaimed, surprised. Then she laughed—a small, embarrassed sound. “So, I drifted toward art school, got an internship with Marvel, then got a break being a colorist for an established cartoonist.”

  “And how was Stephanie born?”

  She tilted her head. “Funny you should phrase it like that. Most people think it’s just an impersonal drawing. Stick figures with bubbles for thoughts—characters with no more spirit than pieces of fruit in a still life.”

  Matt studied the waifish sprite next to him. “But Stephanie’s more to you than that?”

  She nodded. “The day she popped into my brain, she was doing something outrageous—and there she was—full-blown, bursting to get on the paper.”

  “And she’s been doing the outrageous ever since.”

  Brynn looked at him in surprise. “You read the strip?”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  Again she looked shy, embarrassed. “Oh, well, I wouldn’t say—”

  “You know it’s a successful cartoon?”

  “It does okay.”

  He couldn’t help raising his eyebrows. Okay? It was a nationally syndicated comic strip, one that had its own line of merchandise. Yet, she seemed uncomfortable with the praise, or possibly her success.

  Since he wasn’t comfortable with people probing at his motives or feelings, either, to change the subject he pointed at the mountains she’d admired. “These are the Wellsvilles—the steepest mountains in America.”

  Properly impressed, she gazed upward. “They all seem overwhelming. But I thought these were the Rockies.”

  “The Wellsvilles are part of the Rockies.” The truck navigated a sharp turn and Brym stared downward at a sheer cliff that plunged from the narrow precipice into a canyon that looked as though it was miles wide and equally deep.

  “They’re certainly something,” she commented in an unnaturally high voice, her eyes wide as she calculated the small distance between the truck and the yawning depths of the canyon.

  “In the next valley there’s a turquoise gem filled with water—Bear Lake. In the summer when you crest the summit before the valley, and the sun hits the water, you’d swear something that clear and pure aqua has to be fake. You look for the chlorine and the pumps.”

  “How does it stay like that?”

  “It’s a prehistoric formation. Beneath the surfaced are the peaks of an ancient mountain range, so it’s incredibly deep.”

  “And incredibly clear,” Brynn murmured. “I’d love to see it some time.”

  The truck easily took the next precarious turn. “Until then you can see the Bear River. It runs through our property.”

  “I love all the icy mountain streams,” she confessed. “They’re so pristine they don’t look real Just like the first time I saw a mountain sunset. It looked like something a painter or postcard artist dreamed up—so beautiful it wasn’t believable.”

  Matt felt admiration flare. “I guess I don’t think about how people not living here see it for the first time.” He laughed wryly. “Even though we put out brochures describing it in great detail.”

  “It’s not always easy to see something you’re so close to.”

  His gaze flickered to one side. “You’re right about that.” Seeing the cutoff on the road, he turned, gravel crunching beneath the truck’s wide tires. “This is where we get out.”

  He’d barely spoken when the alarm on her watch buzzed.

  “Bus to catch?” he questioned, his brow raised in surprise.

  Embarrassed, she quickly turned off the alarm. “I set alarms to remind myself when I need to do something.”

  “Forgetful, are you?”

  “Guess you could say that. I set alarms so I’ll look at the notes I’ve written to remind myself to do certain things.”

  He glanced over her thoroughly. “I don’t see any notes.”

  Warmed beneath his scrutiny, she had to clear her throat. “I didn’t bring the note.”

  “Anything important?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  She shrugged, knowing other people found her forgetfulness and disorganization hard to understand. “It was probably to remind myself to finish the strips in time for the shuttle driver to take them to the express office.”

  “Should we skip the ride so yon can make your deadline?”

  Brynn considered, then decided it was the chicken’s way out. Besides, her conscience needed the relief of telling the truth when possible. “No. Actually, tomorrow’s shuttle will be better. Then I’ll have more time to go over the final product.”

  He studied her for just a moment before exiting the truck.

  Brynn waited as Matt opened her door, silently appreciating the mannerly gesture, especially in the rugged surroundings. But she watched him unload the four-wheeler with trepidation. Never the athletic sort, she felt gangly and awkward doing anything other than the simplest things. She’d been relieved to see only one ATV, and assumed that meant he would be driving. She fervently hoped that Matt did all the steering and the only thing she had to do was hold on. For dear life, she reminded herself.

  “Do these all-terrain vehicles hurt the ecology of the land?” It was a desperate ploy.

  “Obviously people impact the environment, but as long as we only leave footprints and not destruction, we’re not disturbing the balance.”

  “Uh-huh.” No help there. “Is there much to riding one of these things?” she asked, hoping to sound casual, knowing she failed miserably.

  His gaze settled on her for a moment. “Nothing to worry about Just hang on.”

  Brynn couldn’t prevent a sigh of relief.

  “They’re pretty harmless,” Matt continued.

  Meeting his gaze, she saw that he had sensed her anxiety. “I’m sure they are. I’ve just never been on one.”

  He grinned suddenly, changing tactics. “Then you don’t know what you’ve been missing.”

  Incredibly, his excitement was contagious. She found her fear fading as he held out a tanned, strong hand. Tentatively she accepted his grip and climbed on the vehicle behind him, far to the rear, at the edge of the seat. As she searched for a place to hold on. Matt twisted around.

  “Unless you plan to fly off when we hit the first rock, you’d better move up and hold on.”

  Gingerly she scooted forward. “To what?”

  “Me.”

  “Oh.” With great care she touched two fingers from each hand to his waist.

  He shook his head, then reached out and took both her hands, clamping them firmly around his waist. She gulped, feeling hard muscle beneath the denim covering his lean hips, trying to ignore the fact that she was pressed into the ungiving line of his back. But before she could assimilate the sensations, they were moving.

  Expecting to be terrified, instead she was exhilarated as they traveled down the mountainside, the breeze hitting her cheeks, flattening Matt’s shirt to his skin, sending her unexpected laughter into the trees.

  Expertly, he drove the trail and Brynn could understand the appeal of these freedom machines, easily forging a path where on-the-road vehicles dared not go.

  On her own, Brynn would never have ventured into something this out of the ordinary, this different from her normal, safe life. Which was why it felt all that much more exciting.

  Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to recapture the days before the MacKenzies had whisked her away—me sameness, the loneliness. Now each moment was filled with something new.

  Matt turned just then, flashing his even-toothed white smile. And suddenly she focused more on how handsome Matt was than on the thrill of this new experience. He had eyes like a cougar, she realized—green with enough gold flecks to give an air of mystery to his Marlboro-man looks. Suddenly the pit in her stomach had nothing to do with the lingering traces of fear from riding the four-wheeler. It was a far different kind of fear.

  “We’re on a snowmobiling trail,” he shouted above the
wind. “Farther up it’s still covered in snow, and in winter this part will be, too.”

  Brynn jerked her attention away from his magnetic pull to look again at the wilderness. It was hard to imagine the blanket of snow to come while juniper and lupine scented the air and columbine, Jacob’s ladder, sego lilies and wild roses scattered amid the knee-high wild grass, poking their scarlet, fragile pink, ivory and amethyst heads skyward.

  “But it’s so wonderful right now,” she shouted back.

  His grin widened. “Enough to bring in tourists?”

  “I was young and foolish when I thought that,” she replied with a grin of her own, not knowing where her sudden daring sprang from. For a moment she’d imagined what Stephanie would have done in the circumstances. But Brynn didn’t think she was brave enough to insist on driving the ATV as Stephanie would have done.

  Matt threw his head back and laughed, a husky, richly masculine sound that warmed something deep inside. Brynn hadn’t felt anything like that since the first time she saw Gregory on the jogging paths, when he’d brushed by so closely she’d nearly tripped. He’d said, “Excuse me,” and her heart had nearly stopped. That was when she’d known that Gregory was the one.

  Gregory!

  She’d nearly forgotten him in the heady rush of new awakenings. Closing her eyes, she pictured the wedding album, Gregory’s strong face, his assertive manner, the many things she admired about him...the many things she’d fantasized about him and the life they would have together.

  Without realizing it, Brynn loosened her grip. The four-wheeler hit a bump and she flew up, slamming into Matt’s back, nearly unseating him. Definitely unseating her daydreams.

  He reached back to steady her, grazing her breasts as he grasped her arm.

  Brynn froze.

  When Matt didn’t immediately release her arm, she felt her heart begin to gallop, racing with the growing pit in her stomach to see which would knock her flat first.

  She tried desperately to guess what Stephanie would do. And knew without a doubt that Stephanie had never encountered a man like Matt.

  And neither had she.