“Thanks.” Stuffing it quickly into her bag, she strode out of her office and took the stairs down to the foyer, wishing she’d left the envelope on her desk instead of putting it in her bag. Now it was there, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. It made the bag feel heavy even though it weighed no more than a few flakes of snow.
She stopped in the stairwell, pressed her palm to her ribs and took a few deep breaths.
The only things that should be on her mind right now were Jackson O’Neil and the Snow Crystal Resort and Spa. She shouldn’t be thinking about her stepmother, not least because thinking of her stepmother always made her think of her father and then, inevitably, her mother.
She allowed herself a moment to stare through the window at the high-rises of Midtown, reminded herself how hard she’d worked to be standing here now, and then she continued down the stairs and pushed open the doors into the foyer.
The New York offices of Innovation were sleek and stylish, enveloped in floor-to-ceiling glass that offered breathtaking views over the skyscrapers of Manhattan. Usually Kayla found it the perfect working environment, but today chic minimalism had been displaced by festive touches. A huge Christmas tree dominated the foyer and someone had twisted a rope of tiny stars across the top of the boardroom door.
Everyone, from the receptionist right up to Brett himself, was in that smiling, energy-fueled phase that came between Thanksgiving and Christmas.
Maybe she was Scrooge, Kayla thought gloomily, her heels tapping on the polished oak floor as she walked past the receptionist and gave her a discreet wave. Maybe next year she’d book herself a log cabin with a view of a forest and a lake.
Maybe next year she’d arrange for someone to kidnap Santa.
She pushed open the door and Brett rose to his feet.
“Here she is! The star of the show. Kayla, meet Jackson O’Neil. Jackson, this is Kayla Green.”
He was standing with his back to her, his eyes on the city spread out in front of him.
In those few seconds, Kayla decided Stacy had exaggerated his appeal. True, that jet-black hair looked promising, and he appeared to be taller and broader than the average businessman she encountered during her working day, but as far as she could see there was nothing else about him that warranted the volume of cosmetics and heavy breathing that was going on up on the fortieth floor.
And then he turned.
With hair that black she’d expected his eyes to be dark, but they were blue. A fierce, intense blue, and Kayla stopped breathing altogether because nothing about this man was average.
There was a hard strength to his features, a toughness that fitted everything she’d read about him in the cold chill of her early-morning work session. From the bold sweep of his eyebrows to the bump in his nose, he was wholly and unequivocally male.
That heavy-lidded gaze assessed her in a single sweep, and she felt as if someone had kicked her legs out from under her.
She thought about Stacy’s suggestion that she ask Santa for Jackson O’Neil naked.
Dear Santa, it’s been a long time since you’ve heard from me, but—
“Miss Green.” His voice was deep and strong, and she was recovering from the shock of realizing that for once Stacy’s taste in men made perfect sense, when he strode across the room and shook her hand.
The sudden jolt of chemistry unsettled her.
“Good to meet you, Mr. O’Neil.”
For a fleeting moment it crossed her mind that this man might even have what it took to make her forget her emails. Then she remembered that the consequence of forgetting her emails was doing a bad job and there was no way she was ever going to let that happen.
“I hope your trip was good?” Kayla chose a seat as far away from those blue eyes as she could reasonably position herself. “I’m excited about this opportunity. Why don’t you start by telling us a bit more about how you think we can help, Mr. O’Neil.”
“Jackson.”
“Jackson.” It felt too personal. “I’ve followed the growth of Snowdrift Leisure.”
“My focus right now is Snow Crystal, the family business. It was originally run by my father.”
And his father had been killed in a car accident in New Zealand. She’d read about it in her research.
She was wondering how to tactfully ask the question that had been nagging her, when he raised an eyebrow.
“You have a question?” He was brutally direct. “It’s important to me that this project is successful, so if there’s something you need to know then ask.”
“I don’t want to be insensitive.”
His eyes gleamed. “Do I look delicate?”
He looked like a man who could chop down a tree with a swing of his hand. “It would help to understand why you chose to take over the business now and not earlier in your career.”