Thank you, God.
A secluded log cabin and a business run by a family who would resent her presence at this time of year and undoubtedly leave her alone.
Perfect. Or it would be, if Jackson O’Neil would stop looking at her.
It was unsettling, and not just because he was spectacularly good-looking. Thick, dark lashes shielded eyes that saw far too much.
“Don’t you have plans for the holidays?”
Yes. Her plan was to avoid the whole thing. To find a way of spending the holidays in a Santa-free zone. She was following the example of the black bear, which was clearly a highly evolved species.
“My plans, Mr. O’Neil, are to make sure that by this time next year you have a waiting list for cancellations and that the resort of choice for winter fun and relaxation is Snow Crystal. Together, we are going to drive your brand to the top. Perhaps you’d be kind enough to reserve me the most remote cabin you have available. It will be easier to focus if I’m far away from other guests.” Oh, for goodness’ sake, he was still looking at her. “Of course if you’d rather wait until the new year—”
“Tell me a bit about yourself.”
“Me?” The question took her by surprise. “I read English at Oxford and then—”
“Not your academic background. Tell me something about you.”
“Oh. I’ve worked for Innovation since—”
“Something personal.”
It was Kayla’s turn to stare. “Personal?”
“What do you do when you’re not working?”
Kayla froze. No one had ever asked her that. Usually the questions were about forecasts, strategy, circulation figures—no one had ever asked her what she did when she wasn’t working. “I—”
“It’s a simple question, Miss Green.”
No, it wasn’t a bloody simple question. She decided to treat it like one of those interview questions where they asked your weaknesses and you gave them something they wouldn’t see as a weakness, such as I work too hard.
“I work too hard.” She gave an apologetic smile. “That doesn’t leave much free time. Right now my focus is my career. I’d rather be working than doing anything else.”
She’d especially rather be doing that than celebrating Christmas.
“Your family won’t object if you work over the holidays?”
Why was the guy asking about her family? He wanted to buy her skills, not adopt her. No client had ever asked her a question about family. All they cared about was hearing what she could do for their business. No one had ever been remotely interested in the person behind the machine.
Her smile frozen to her face in a bizarre rictus, Kayla hunted for a response that was neither rude nor a lie. “They won’t object. We’re all busy people.” Terrified that he might see through that neutral statement, she snapped her gaze from his and closed her notepad. “I will spend the week living and breathing Snow Crystal, write up my recommendations with input from the team back here and then we’ll start work in the new year. Brett?” She glanced at him for support, knowing Brett was too hungry for the business to care if she drove a snowplow through her own vacation.
“Sounds good. I’ll even provide the eggnog.”
For once relieved that her boss was living up to his reputation for forgetting the people who worked for him had a personal life, Kayla relaxed. “Make it tequila and I’ll put you back on my Christmas card list.”
“Done. And you can put a pair of snow boots on expenses.”
“You’re all heart, boss.”
“No worries.”
Across the table, Jackson O’Neil was still watching her. Beneath the well-cut suit he exuded a raw sexuality that made it almost impossible for a woman to look away.
“Would you describe yourself as an outdoor girl, Kayla?”
Not in a million years. “I don’t spend anywhere near as much time outdoors as I would like—” she adopted a regretful tone “—so I’m looking forward to rectifying that. And I love snow. Love it.” Maybe she should have said that once. Maybe twice was overdoing it.
“That’s good to hear.” That hypnotic blue gaze didn’t shift from hers. “So you ski?”
Remembering the picture of him plunging into a deep, snow-filled gully, Kayla decided it was safer not to lie about that. “Not exactly, but I’ve always wanted to, so this will be the perfect opportunity. I can’t wait, although I think my preference will probably be for—er—flat slopes.”
Dark brows rose. “Flat slopes?”
“Nothing too—” she tilted her hand to demonstrate a steep gradient “—terrifying.”