“Aren’t you taking time off?”
“I’m off now. Got a Christmas gift for you, Green.”
“Gift?” She immediately thought of Jackson.
What do you want for Christmas, Kayla?
“I’m moving you up. That vice president role is vacant now that Cecily has moved to L.A. You’ll need to jump through a few hoops, but that’s just a formality. There isn’t a person in this company who doesn’t know your name. Sure, you’ll be working double the number of hours you work now, which basically means you can forget about sleep for the rest of your working life, but that’s the price you pay for achieving your goal, right?”
Vice president.
Stunned, Kayla sank down onto the sofa and Maple sprang onto her lap. She hadn’t even heard the puppy come into the room. Resting her hand on the dog’s springy fur, she looked at the Christmas tree, remembering how hard it had been for her to decorate it. Had that really only been a few days before?
“I don’t know what to say.” She hadn’t expected it to happen this quickly.
“You’re overwhelmed. You can thank me later. Go and buy yourself something to celebrate. My wife is always telling me a woman can’t have too many diamond earrings.”
She should be feeling excited.
So why did the thought of standing in front of the window of another jewelers, picking out a pair of earrings for herself, depress her?
She looked down at herself, thinking that diamond earrings would look ridiculous with what she was wearing now.
“Everywhere is closed for Christmas.”
“Oh, right, I forgot you were out there in the boonies. Take a few hours off to eat maple syrup with your client or whatever they do up there on Christmas Day, and then get yourself back to the real world.”
“I— Thanks, Brett.”
“No worries. And congratulations.”
As Brett ended the call, Kayla stared at the lights twinkling on the tree and then looked out of the window into the darkness of the forest. Stars studded the night sky like tiny diamonds, sending light sparkling over snow and she knew what she was looking at was more beautiful than anything she’d see in a jeweler’s window.
She cuddled Maple close.
Tomorrow was Christmas Day. The day after, she’d be flying back to New York.
Her stay at Snow Crystal was over.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JACKSON WOKE IN the dark to find the bed empty.
He went in search of her and found her curled up on the sofa watching snow fall on the trees.
They’d chosen to spend the night in his barn for the first time. His home. The significance didn’t escape him.
“What are you doing out here?”
“I like looking at the trees. Helps me think. And your sofas are so comfortable.” She snuggled deeper. “I love what you’ve done to this room.”
She hadn’t switched on lamps, but moonlight shimmered on the hardwood floors and the last flickers of the dying fire gave enough light for him to see her expression.
He sat down next to her. “What do you need to think about?”
“That phone call from Brett—I’m being promoted. Vice president. I still have to have an interview with the partners, but it sounds as if it’s virtually a done deal.”
Jackson felt a rush of mixed emotions. “Congratulations.”
“It’s my dream. I just didn’t expect it to happen yet.”
He decided not to say that she didn’t sound very pleased for someone who had just achieved her dream.
“Perhaps it hasn’t sunk in yet.”
“That’s probably it.” She shifted position and leaned her head against his shoulder. Her hair was soft and silky and brushed against his jaw.
“You need to come back to bed. If you don’t close your eyes, Santa won’t come.”
“I don’t believe in Santa.”
There were a lot of things she didn’t believe in, but he decided this wasn’t the time to talk about any of those, either, so he simply pulled her to her feet, scooped her into his arms and carried her back to his bed.
They had this. They had now.
It was enough.
* * *
SHE AWOKE IN his arms and felt weight in her heart. Then she realized she also felt weight on her feet.
“What’s that?”
“What?” He levered himself up on his elbows, his eyes sleepy under lowered lids. “Looks like you were wrong about at least one thing, Kayla Green. Santa does exist.”
And she saw the cause of the weight. A stocking, lying across the bottom of the bed, the shape distorted by mysterious packages stuffed inside. “That’s for me?”
“How would I know? Better take a look.”
She sat up, thinking that there could be no better place to wake up than Jackson’s handcrafted log canopy bed with its uninterrupted view of the lake and forest. A cobweb of early-morning mist hovered over the trees, but the first rays of sunshine were already peeping through, sending shafts of light bouncing across the frozen surface.