Sleigh Bells in the Snow(47)

Gingerly, she slid her leg over the back of the snowmobile. “I’m really not sure about this—”

“You have to be sure of something before you do it? That must be limiting. Hold on to me.”

“I can sit without help.” Her voice was muffled by the helmet, and he realized that if it did nothing else, the helmet would stop him kissing her.

“Just like you could walk on ice without help. We both remember how that turned out.” Smiling to himself, Jackson gave it some choke and cranked the engine—and felt Kayla’s arms shoot around his waist. He shook with laughter. “You okay back there? Only I thought you said you could sit without help.”

“If you’re laughing at me you’re going to be sorry.”

But he wasn’t sorry. He wasn’t sorry about any of it. Not about bringing her here and certainly not about taking her on this trip. He spent his days trying to make numbers add up into a different pattern, defusing tension, soothing anxieties while all the time trying to do things the way he knew they had to be done if this whole place was going to thrive again. He was weighed down by duty and responsibility, and he didn’t often get to throw off that weight. But Kayla Green made him feel lighter. She also made him feel a hell of a lot of other things he was trying to ignore.

He took it steady to begin with, allowing her time to get used to the rhythm of the snowmobile and the feel of moving across the snow and ice. At one point he heard her gasp and felt her tighten her grip on him, but then they left the resort behind and soon they were speeding along winding trails, through dense, heavily wooded forest.

It was a perfect blue-sky winter day. The overnight fall of snow had added a layer of soft powder to the groomed trail and the surface sparkled under the bright sun.

He thought he heard her laugh and he increased the speed, gently touching the throttle to keep the machine moving.

Jackson thought about the times he and his brothers had raced along this trail, risking life and limb, leaving their mother racked with worry. Sheer guts and enthusiasm had bred skill, and now he knew where to steer, how much throttle to use to get the best performance from the machine and he pushed it to the limits.

When they reached the Chocolate Shack, he slowed and pulled off the trail.

A curl of smoke rose from the chimney and a few skiers wrapped in warm layers were seated at tables outside, a slash of color against a background of white.

“That was amazing! I want to spend the rest of my life doing that.” Breathless and laughing, she slid off the back of the snowmobile, flipped up the shield on her helmet and glanced around her, enchanted. “This place is gorgeous. How does anyone ever find it?”

“There are trail maps. And its reputation means people make the effort. They’re famous for their whipped hot chocolate.”

“Whipped hot chocolate? That sounds delicious.” She pulled off the helmet and her hair flowed over her shoulders like sunlight, knocking all coherent thoughts out of his brain.

It wasn’t just the color, although he wasn’t about to object to natural blond—it was the way it swung, silky and soft, just inviting a man to reach out and slide his hands into it. Tangled and slightly messed by the helmet, her hair sparked thoughts of how she would look waking in the early morning after a night of hot screaming sex. Everything about her made him think of sex, and he realized how long it was since he’d had some serious rest and relaxation. Just for once it would have been nice to take a break from rescuing his family. He had several ideas of how he’d choose to spend the time, and none of them included rest. They did, however, include Kayla Green. Naked. Smiling at him the way she was smiling now.

He wondered how she’d react if he did what he was longing to do and kissed that mouth. Then he realized that mouth was moving. “Sorry—did you say something?”

“I said it sounds delicious.”

“What sounds delicious?”

“The hot chocolate.” She looked puzzled. “What else?”

What else? He was on the verge of revealing exactly what else but he stopped himself.

He had responsibilities, and none of them involved having hot screaming sex with Kayla Green. “Waffles,” he said thickly. “The waffles are good.”

“Sounds delicious.” The cold air had put color in her cheeks. Or maybe something else was responsible for the sudden flush. The same something that was burning inside him. “The snowmobile was fantastic. I can’t remember when I last had a high like that when I wasn’t working.”

It told him a lot about her that her highs came from work.

Unable to help himself, Jackson pushed her hair back from her face, and her smile froze as if she suddenly remembered that she didn’t do this.