Sleigh Bells in the Snow (O'Neil Brothers 1)

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.”

“Have you worked with family?”

“No.” A knot tightened in her stomach. “No, I haven’t.”

“Good decision. A family business is driven by a great deal more than a concern for the bottom line. To describe it as complicated would be to simplify the situation.” A wry smile tugged at his mouth, and Kayla found herself looking at the curve of his lips. She was sure Jackson O’Neil would be an exceptionally skilled kisser.

Irritated with herself, she opened her notepad.

Damn Stacy.

“I can imagine it isn’t easy to agree on a business strategy when the people involved have an emotional investment. Perhaps you could outline their different responsibilities within the company?”

“I’d describe it as flexible.” He leaned back in his chair. “The company structure, if you can call it that, is informal. If anyone has an idea, they speak up, although that doesn’t mean anyone is going to listen to them.”

But they’d listen to him, she was sure of that. The air of power and authority was unmistakable.

“It sounds charming,” Brett said smoothly, and Kayla kept her eyes on her notepad.

It sounded like chaos.

She looked up. “Tell me a bit about Snow Crystal itself.”

“The O’Neils have owned the land around Snow Crystal for four generations. My great-grandfather bought it for the sugar maple trees and set up a business producing maple syrup. They did it the old-fashioned way, tapping the trees and collecting the sap in a bucket. My great-grandmother helped. They started selling the syrup and her syrup cookies out of their kitchen. Tourists enjoyed visiting the sugarhouse, so they started offering overnight stays. The business grew from that.” He spoke with assurance, his voice deep and compelling as he outlined his family history.

It was a story of a family who had stuck together, a family who had labored to build something. A family with a past and a future.

What did she know about that?

Nothing.

She reminded herself he was buying her expertise, not her pedigree. “I took a look at the log cabins online.”

“Building those was the first thing I did when I came back eighteen months ago. They’re built from reclaimed wood and have log fires, a hot tub and a view of the forest. If someone wants to escape, this is the place.”

?

?Book me in.” Smiling, Kayla scribbled romantic getaway on her pad. “And the rest of the accommodation?”

He talked, describing the resort and the changes he’d made.

She thought about the articles she’d read in the middle of the night when sleep had eluded her. A talented skier, he’d started a company for people like himself. The words used to describe him had included focused, ruthless and visionary, and his success with Snowdrift Leisure suggested they were accurate.

Kayla thought about the image of him plunging into a snow gully on skis.

Distracted by the image in her head, she rose to her feet and paced to the window. “I have a few more questions—what do you see as your main offering, Mr. O’Neil?” Apart from killer blue eyes and a hot sexy body.

“We offer the usual range of winter sports, together with skating on the lake and horse-drawn sleigh rides.” He pushed a brochure across the table toward her. “Despite the addition of the spa and the cabins, we’re losing money. Our occupancy rate is under forty percent. The only part of the business currently in profit is our restaurant.”