Tell me, does he intend to send a check in the mail once a month to compensate for his cowardice?”
“That’s enough,” she said, turning back in her seat to face forward, her arms crossed under her chest.
Oh, she’d made a mistake, all right, coming up here with him today.
He was primitive.
“It’s none of your business,” she told him. “Who and where Baby’s father is, it’s none of your damn business.”
The snowcat came to such a sudden halt Grace had to brace her hands against the dash. She didn’t even wait to see where they were, she just opened her door and jumped out. She started plodding over the crusted snow, driving her feet into it until it broke.
Damn him. He was a jerk. And to imagine she thought she liked him.
He was suddenly right beside her, walking on top of the crust, exerting one-tenth the energy she was.
Grace stopped and turned, cupping her hand to her forehead to block out the rain so she could glare at him better.
“I’m going to save your damn ski lift, MacKeage, but only under one condition.”
“And that would be?” he asked calmly, in stark contradiction to her anger.
It only made her angrier. “That you give me your snow-making equipment and help me set it up at the Bigelow Christmas Tree Farm tonight.”
The taunting calmness left his face so suddenly Grace took a step back.
“Not in your lifetime, lady. MacBain’s trees can rot in the ground for all I care.”
“Fine. Then the same thing can happen to your damn ski lift,” she countered, turning around and walking away.
She started walking back down the ski trail, only not breaking through the crust this time and being careful of her footing. She found the tracks the cat had made and began following them—until she was suddenly grabbed from behind and spun around so quickly she screamed.
“You can’t walk down this mountain,” he said, his evergreen eyes glaring at her.
“I didn’t just fall three thousand feet, MacKeage, like the last time.”
Although her heart certainly felt as if it had—and that it had broken on impact. She was so disappointed she wanted to sit down and cry. Why was this truly gorgeous, rugged, capable man such a jerk? And worst of all, why was she so attracted to him in the first place?
That was the saddest part. He couldn’t see past his hatred for Michael MacBain, and he couldn’t see how much, or guess why, that hurt her. The man she had formed a remarkable bond with on the mountain three days ago hated her nephew’s father. He didn’t know it, but she and Baby would become a link between him and Michael if she let herself get involved with Grey.
She was astute enough to realize that she had already let herself become much too involved with him emotionally. It had started when he had taken Baby to safety and then come back for her. And this afternoon, in the lift shed, she had felt it—the strength of their bond—enveloping her in the warmth of sharing something special with a special man.
But that bond was being smothered by a soulless sleeve of ice, just as surely as the trees around her were being entombed at this very moment.
“Grace,” he said, shaking her slightly.
“I don’t like you anymore, Grey. I can’t.”
“You damn well will,” he growled, wrapping her up in a fierce embrace that took the wind right out of her. And she never did catch her breath before his mouth descended on hers with demanding possession.
Her head swam with mixed emotions. Being in his arms, feeling his lips on hers, tasting him; it all felt so wonderfully right, no matter how wrong it was. This was the energy, the passion of life, the very soul of her existence that she hadn’t even realized she’d been searching for.
This, Grace decided as he ruthlessly awakened her emotions, was about as real as it got. She was in the arms of the man she wanted to belong to for the rest of her life.
Passion rose inside her. She had fallen in lust with Greylen MacKeage the moment she’d met him. She’d fallen in love when she had trusted him enough to let him seal her into an ice cave.
“I love you,” she whispered into his mouth. “I love you.”
Grace’s world tilted on its axis before she had finished her declaration. She found herself being carried up the mountain, the summit house suddenly appearing out of the mist. Grey turned with her still in his arms and tried the knob. When it wouldn’t open, he simply used his foot and kicked in the door.
He carried her inside and suddenly stopped, looking around and frowning. He finally lowered her feet to the floor and left her standing in the middle of the large summit house. He walked to the huge granite fireplace and struck a match to the already prepared kindling and logs. He then walked around the room, pulled cushions off several of the chairs, and threw them on the floor in front of the hearth.
He looked back at her once, as if checking to see if she was still there, then continued his work, pulling a blanket from a shelf near the hearth and tossing it down on the pillows. Grace took off her jacket and silently, albeit shakily, walked over and began arranging the pillows into a bed.
No regrets. No second thoughts. Grey obviously wanted this to happen, but Grace decided she wanted it more. She had known it was inevitable the moment she’d felt him behind her in the lift shed, waiting for her to place the call that would give them this time alone together.
She sat in the middle of her newly made bed and watched him prop the broken door closed to keep out the weather. The dry kindling in the hearth suddenly popped with exploding sap, and Grace jumped.
She didn’t have any more clue about what she was doing than Grey had a clue about her history with men. All she knew was that Greylen MacKeage was about to discover she couldn’t possibly be Baby’s mother.
Chapter Twelve
The poor woman was sitting in the middle of the cozy nest of pillows she’d put together, not a drop of color in her face. Her blue eyes were as wide as saucers, and she looked as if the touch of a feather might shatter her composure.
If he were a gentleman, he would sit beside her and talk to her a bit, gentling her fears and giving her time to come to terms with what was about to happen. Yes, if he were even a little bit civilized, he would at least explain that once they made love there was no going back. That she would be his, and no one, not even God himself, could alter that truth.
Grey took off his jacket as he silently walked toward her. He would undress Grace with all the care a queen deserved, and then he would make love to her until she understood what he couldn’t put into words.
And then he’d make love to her again.
Grey took a seat beside her on the cushions, ignoring the fact that she flinched when he did. He wrapped an arm around her stiff shoulders and placed his other hand under her chin to lift her mouth to his.
She was warm and sweet and tasted like the cocoa she had drunk from the thermos before they had climbed into the snowcat. Grey had been amused when she had swilled the hot drink down as if it was Scotch, as if it would settle her nerves.
It hadn’t helped her then and it wasn’t helping her now, if her trembling was any indication. Grey lay back on the pillows and turned to settle Grace beneath him.
God, she was precious. Warm, vibrant, filled with a passion he knew was churning just below the surface. He never stopped kissing her as he untucked her shirt and pushed it up to her chest. She was gripping his hair now and finally kissing him back. Grey found the clasp at the front of her bra and opened it, pushing it aside and covering her breast with his hand.
She moaned deep in her throat, arching her breast into his palm. Her nipple sprang to life as he teased it gently, and the woman beneath him squirmed until her hips were directly against his erection.
She let go of his hair and began caressing his shoulders, then ran her fingers down the length of his arms.