by Karen Booth
“I’m so sorry. I ran into a patch of ice and lost control of the car. Sometimes these precision vehicles do what you want them to and sometimes they don’t.” The handsome prince had a very deep voice, rich and authoritative. He was probably really good at telling people what to do. He was tall. And good God, now that she could see his face in its entirety, she couldn’t help but notice that he was unbearably handsome. He was all high cheekbones and full lips. A strong jaw and brow line. There was nothing soft about him. Everything was defined. He wore a black wool coat and black leather gloves. “Do you mind if I ask what in the world you were doing out here walking alongside the road in the dark?”
Oh, yeah. That. “Hiking.”
“Hiking? In those boots?” He pointed at her feet, which were clad in her brown leather boots with the chunky heel. They were surprisingly comfortable and made her butt look damn good in jeans. She didn’t wear them at work, though. She donned the chef’s clogs that were currently in her bag for the long hours on her feet.
“Yeah, I know. I guess I’m just a slave to fashion.” She tittered nervously.
He narrowed his focus on her, his eyebrows drawing together so tightly they nearly touched. “Okay. Well, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to finish your hike. Why don’t you let me drive you home?”
Home? Oh, no. That would never work. Her home was the Marshalls’ home and absolutely no one was supposed to know she was there. For all she knew, this guy was a friend of the Marshalls. They not only knew a lot of people, most people knew of them. “I’m fine. Really.” She waved him off.
He shook his head. “No way. You are not fine. You should see yourself right now. Your hair and your makeup.” He drew a circle in the air in front of her face. “Plus, I’m not entirely sure you didn’t hit your head. I’m driving you home. If my mother were still alive, she’d be horrified if she found out that I was anything less than a perfect gentleman.”
Oh, sure. Bring your dead mother into it. “No, really...”
“No. Really. I insist. Either that or I call an ambulance for you. You’re not walking home.”
Joy blew out a breath and knew it was time to relent. If they got to the top of the hill and he said a peep about the Marshalls, she’d have to come up with a quick excuse. In the meantime, at least with Prince Charming around, she was fairly sure she wasn’t in danger of being arrested. “Okay. Sure. That’d be nice.”
* * *
Alex stepped ahead of the mystery woman and opened the passenger door for her. “I can turn on the heated seat for you in a moment.” He took care when closing the door. He still wasn’t convinced she wasn’t in shock. He was certainly disoriented. One minute he was out for a drive, trying to blow off some work-related steam, and the next thing he knew, his car was sliding down a mountain and he nearly hit a woman. The scene that followed, the epic panic in the snowbank, was like something out of a movie. He could hardly believe what he’d witnessed.
He climbed inside and glanced over at her. She was using the visor mirror to wipe away the smudges of makeup beneath her eyes and smooth her hair.
“I wasn’t trying to say you needed to primp.”
“You were right. I’m a disaster.”
Even though her hair had looked like it had been through a tornado, he couldn’t imagine her ever looking bad. In the soft light coming from the mirror, only in profile, she still stole his breath. She was a classic beauty, like something out of an old Technicolor movie—creamy complexion, lively flush on her cheeks. Her now-tidier hair was long, rolling past her shoulders in gentle waves.
“If this is your version of a disaster, I’d love to see what you look like when you’re going out.”
She turned, sizing him up with her soulful brown eyes.
He reached out his hand. “Seems like introductions are in order. I’m Alex. Well, Alexander if you want the long version. Alexander Townsend.”
She swiped off her fluffy mitten and placed her hand in his. “Nice to meet you, Alexander Townsend, although if this is your way of picking up women, I suggest you get a new technique.”
Alex laughed. Beautiful and witty. It was his lucky day. “And your name?”
She flipped the visor up, tugging her mitten back on. “Joy.”
“Nice to meet you, Joy. Just Joy or is there more to it?”
“Baker.”
“You aren’t a Denver Baker, are you?”
“Excuse me?”
“The Denver Bakers. I’m very good friends with Patrick. He and I both graduated from Columbia the same year.” The look on her face said that she was not a member of the Baker family from Denver. “I’m guessing no?”
She shrugged. “Sorry. I don’t know them.”
“Ah. Well. Thought I’d ask. Where are you from, Joy Baker?”
She cleared her throat. “Santa Barbara.”
“I’m from Chicago. Not nearly as picturesque as coastal California, but it’s home.”
“Sounds nice.”
This conversation didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Probably best to move along. “Where can I take you?”
“Do you know this road well?”
“Clearly, I don’t.”
She pointed up the hill. “It’s at the top. Just drive and I’ll show you.”
He followed her directions, the headlights casting golden beams across the silver snow. That bit of friendly back-and-forth had been pleasant enough, but reality was sinking in. He could have killed her. For all he knew, she was injured. Bleeding internally? Head trauma? All possible. The thought set him doubly on edge. His protective side came out with all women, sometimes to his own detriment. It was a product of his childhood, years of his father mistreating his mother, and Alex having to be the buffer. He had to remind himself that he hardly knew Joy. There was no reason to protect her any more than any other stranger.
But there was reason to worry. With his money, and his family name, he had been the frequent target of unscrupulous people. The most notable of which had been his former fiancée, and although that was a chapter of his life best left closed, it did make him wary of people and their intentions.
“It’s up here. On the left. You can just pull up to the gate and I’ll get out.”
He crested the hill and the vista opened up, almost as if they were perched on top of the world. It was all vast blue-black sky and stars up here; the house Joy had pointed to a showpiece that seemed to go on forever. His shoulders lightened. He had no need to worry about her intentions. Joy, from the look of things, had more than enough of her own resources.
He pulled closer to the gate and rolled down his window. “Code?”
“Oh, no. It’s fine. I’ll just get out right here. You can go now.”
Alex didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like he saw himself as God’s gift to women, but he was certainly not accustomed to getting the swift brush-off. Usually, women enjoyed being in his company. And it wasn’t like he’d asked her out. This was a ride up the driveway. “I promise I won’t memorize it. I work in finance, but I’m actually horrible with numbers. Well, small ones at least.” He laughed quietly at his own joke, but she didn’t. Idiot.
“I just... I don’t know that I should let you in.”
He nodded, trying to understand what sort of vibe he was giving off that made her so uneasy. Part of him wanted to tell her that he was the most trustworthy guy imaginable when it came to women, always a perfect gentleman, but what kind of guy says that? Someone who’s the exact opposite, that’s who. The trouble was, he wasn’t entirely certain she was okay after her swan dive into the snowbank. “I don’t want to bring up my mom again, but can’t a guy at least drive you to the door? That driveway has to be at least a five-minute walk. Probably ten in those boots. Which are completely inappropriate for hiking, by the way. I can’t believe you g
ot in a single step before you wiped out.”
“If you’ll stop criticizing my footwear choices, I’ll let you drive me up.”
“Deal.”
“The code is 6274.”
He punched in the numbers and the tall wrought iron gate pulled back behind a towering stone pillar topped with a craftsman light fixture. The car crept ahead, but with this much power under the hood, he was careful not to gun it. The house was impressive as they approached, with tall windows peeking out from under at least a dozen gables, supported by honed timber trusses. The roof was blanketed in snow, the exterior clad in cedar shakes and trim. This gorgeous mountain lodge could likely sleep twenty people comfortably.
“Beautiful home you have here. It reminds me of my place in Switzerland. Of course, the skiing over there is better, but I wanted a quick getaway this Christmas, so my house in Vail seemed like the right choice.”
“Oh. Um. This isn’t my house. It belongs to friends of mine.”
“Who are your friends? Maybe I know them.”
“Uh. The Santiago family? They’re letting me stay here for a while.” Her voice was a bit shaky and unsure. Maybe she really had been hurt in the fall.
“Hmm. I don’t know them. You’re staying here by yourself?”
“Well, yes. Wanted some time to myself. Life gets crazy.” Joy collected her things and opened her car door. “Thank you, again.” She turned back to him only this time, there was a momentary connection difficult to ignore.
“Of course. It’s the least I can do.” Something about this wasn’t right. “Hey. Is it okay if we exchange numbers? I want you to be able to call me if you aren’t feeling well.”
She pressed her lips together like she was trying to escape a deeply uncomfortable situation. “How about I just take your number?”
Fair enough. “Sure thing.” He rattled off the digits and she put it into her phone, or at least he thought she did.
With that, she climbed out, closed her door, and scaled the grand sweep of stone stairs leading up to the front porch. Joy was tall, her legs long and lithe, but she looked tiny compared to the massive wood double door. She keyed her way in and as soon as she disappeared inside, he put the car into Reverse and backed up. Her sweet fragrance lingered—an aroma like spun sugar. It’d been months since he’d been on a date with a woman, and even just a few minutes with Joy was going to haunt him. He had a sense she was holding back or hiding something.
Hopefully, it wasn’t that she’d been hurt in the accident.
Two
Joy flipped the dead bolt and collapsed against the door. That had been entirely too close a call. When Rafe Marshall, Mariella’s son, had said she could stay in the house, he’d been explicit about one thing—no one could know she was there. His mother would kill him if she found out he’d given sanctuary to someone who’d dared to quit her employ, and the Marshalls knew a lot of people in Vail. A lot of very wealthy, powerful people. People like Alex.
Thank goodness she’d been quick enough to say that the house belonged to the Santiago family. Santiago was Mariella Marshall’s maiden name, and luckily did not ring a bell with Alex. Joy despised these little white lies, but she was deeply concerned about her future in the culinary world. Mariella Marshall could kill her entire career, everything she’d worked so hard for, with one or two well-placed phone calls.
Joy raced to the window and pulled back the heavy gold tapestry drape, peeking outside. The red of Alex’s taillights glowed in the dark as his car cleared the gate. As soon as the wrought iron barrier completed its trip back across the driveway, she felt as though she could breathe. He was gone. Unbelievably hot Prince Charming had flown the coop. And that was a good thing, however disappointing it might seem. She’d been lonely since she’d come to Colorado. She hadn’t had a single in-person conversation that hadn’t revolved around working at the bakery. Some time with a personable, good-looking man would have been welcome. It would have been wonderful, actually.
Not for you, she reminded herself as she dropped her bag, traveled down the hall, and walked upstairs to the bedroom she’d been staying in. Rich guys were just asking for trouble. She’d met her fair share working in the restaurant world. Whether it was wealthy owners, investors or customers, men with money were too accustomed to getting whatever they wanted, when they wanted it. Joy was too bullheaded to ever put up with that.
If anything, having a man make demands sent Joy running in the opposite direction. Case in point, her hometown ex-boyfriend. He hadn’t had money, but he’d always had control. Getting away from him had been a harrowing experience. It still wasn’t over. Money and her car were obstacles, but he was the big reason she couldn’t go home at Christmas. There were no secrets in her small town. He always found out when she returned, and then he’d start circling in on her. It was best to stay away, however sad and lonely it made her to not be with her family.
Joy removed her work clothes, turned on the shower and stepped inside, closing the glass door behind her. The spray was the ideal temperature, with the perfect amount of water pressure to soothe her aching muscles. Baking was hard work, physically exhausting, possibly even more so than being a chef. Taking a mile-long hike up a mountain and ultimately landing in a snowbank had been a less-than-ideal way to end her day. She felt every bit of it.
Even though this house had unlimited hot water, she decided she couldn’t spend her entire evening in the shower. She climbed out, curled her toes into the plush bath mat, and wrapped herself up in the fluffy white towel. Everything in this house was the finest quality. Every element was chosen with an eye for luxury and comfort, and she would’ve been lying if she’d said that she didn’t appreciate every second of it.
Mariella’s daughter Elana’s bathroom was a perfect example—marble-topped vanity with custom cherry cabinetry, a shower with a waterfall head and shimmery glass tile. There was even a towel warmer. Joy didn’t use it often. It was more of a treat, which was a silly notion, but Joy didn’t want to get too accustomed to this life. She wouldn’t have it for long.
She grabbed her robe from the hook and towel-dried her hair, studying herself in the mirror. Some days it was a necessary reminder of who she was and what she was. She was Joy McKinley, a hardworking girl from Ohio. She did not come from a house like this, nor would she live in a house like this. Pipe dreams didn’t get anyone anywhere. Hard work did. She most definitely was not Joy Baker, invited guest of the Marshall family and woman perfectly at home staying by herself in a sprawling estate. She’d only let Alex believe those things because she was covering her tracks and he was nothing more than an acquaintance. A ridiculously sexy one, but a stranger nonetheless.
The security system control panel on the bathroom wall dinged. Joy jumped. Someone was at the door. Her pulse took off in a sprint. Anyone who arrived on her doorstep had already passed through the gate. Had someone from the Marshall family arrived without their key? Had Mariella Marshall invited friends to stay here, leaving Joy to explain herself and hightail it out of there? She jabbed the button for the security camera. Alex came into view in pixelated black and white. Relief washed over her, followed by a jolt of excitement. But why was he back?
“Hello?” she asked into the intercom.
“Hi. It’s Alex. From before. The car? The hill?” He was so adorable, talking into the doorbell instead of looking up at the security camera.
“Yes. I remember.”
“I got halfway home and I had to turn around. Are you sure you’re okay?”
She waited to answer. She really wanted to invite him in. She wanted to have a real conversation. If he didn’t want to talk, she could just stare at him for a while or maybe she could convince him that a brief make-out session with a stranger was totally normal. “I feel fine. I think.”
“See? That’s a problem. I think I should call 911. This could be seri
ous.”
“No. Please don’t do that.”
“Can you come to the door and talk to me?”
He was the most insistent man she’d been around in a long time. “Fine. I’m coming.” Down the stairs she thundered. She opened the door but quickly remembered she was wearing a bathrobe and nothing else, and stopped herself from flinging it wide open. She greeted him by poking her head out through the narrow opening. “I’m fine.” The soft amber glow from the porch lights made him even more movie star handsome. It was going to hurt to tell him to go away.
“It doesn’t seem like you should be by yourself right now,” he said.
“I told you I’m fine.” Except that she wasn’t entirely sure she was. Her neck still felt tight, even after that long shower, and she had a headache brewing.
He pursed his lips and looked down at the ground for a moment. “I think you should see a doctor.”
“That’s not necessary. I just need to get some sleep.”
“Are you positive you didn’t hit your head? If you have a head injury, it could be a bad idea to go to sleep.”
Good God, he was persistent. “It was snow. Nothing hard to hit my head on.”
He moved his face closer to hers, studying her. The breath hitched in her throat. He had a really sexy mouth. Totally worth kissing. What if they ended up having that make-out session after all? “It seems like your pupils are pretty dilated.”
“I don’t even know what to say to that. It’s not like I can see my own eyes right now. Nor do I even know what it means if they are, in fact, dilated.”
“Can I please come in for a moment? I promise I’m not wielding an axe.”
She sighed and opened the door wider, the brutally cold air rushing in behind him. The snow was coming down even harder now, which she hadn’t thought possible. “Have you ever noticed that murderers don’t carry an axe, they wield it?”
“It just occurred to me that I shouldn’t have used axe-murderer terminology. I’m sorry. I swear I’m a good guy.” His smile was extra convincing. Alex wasn’t a threat, although she might pass out from how blindingly perfect his mouth was.
