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

“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 ne

w 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.”

“Right.” He rubbed his hand over his jaw, and she had a feeling he was smiling. “Flat slopes. I admire your dedication.” He rose to his feet, lithe and athletic. One glance at his powerful thighs told her that this man didn’t expect his slopes to be flat.

She hoped he still admired her dedication when she was lying prostrate at his feet.

Belatedly, Kayla realized that spending a week at Snow Crystal meant spending a week in the close company of Jackson O’Neil, a man whose idea of fun was to jump off cliffs and land on a near-vertical slope.

Maybe she should have been more honest about her lack of experience.

Maybe she should book herself a hospital bed right now.

Gathering up her notes, she produced her most reassuring corporate smile and walked around to his side of the table. “Here at Innovation we’re always willing to go that extra mile for a client.” Preferably not downhill on skis, but if that was the only way then so be it. “Fast paced and focused. That’s what we do.” She stuck out her hand and then wished she hadn’t, as strong, male fingers closed over hers.

She tried not to wince.

The guy was strong enough to kill a moose with his bare hands. And even though she was wearing her favorite confidence-inducing killer heels, he was taller. His hair was dark and gleamed under the harsh lighting of the boardroom. It should have been unforgiving, but it simply served to spotlight his spectacular good looks.