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

“I was just illustrating a point.”

“Slalom is one of two technical disciplines, the other being giant slalom. Do you know anything about World Cup alpine ski racing?”

“Not a thing,” Kayla said happily, “except that you all wear supertight spandex like Superman. Fortunately skiers seem to have muscles in all the right places, which is a relief because if you put that outfit on the average London commuter it would not be a good look.”

“The outfit is designed to minimize drag.” Tyler scowled at Sean, who wasn’t bothering to hide his laughter. “You got something to say?” Without waiting for him to respond, he turned back to Kayla, determined to educate her. “As well as technical, you have speed disciplines. Downhill is the Formula 1 of ski racing. I presume you’ve heard of Formula 1?”

“Formula? Isn’t that what they feed babies?” Kayla grinned. “Just kidding. So it’s fast.”

“You ski a course like the Lauberhorn in Switzerland, one of the longest and toughest on the World Cup circuit, and you’re hitting speeds of around 90 miles an hour, and you’re not wearing a seat belt. And when you’re up there waiting to start there’s nothing but you and the slope. Think about it.”

Jess was on the edge of her seat with excitement, but Kayla shuddered.

“I can’t think about it without wanting to vomit. I’ve just skied as fast as I ever intend to.”

“Fast?” Tyler choked on his beer. “If you’d skied any slower, the season would have been over and the rest of us would have been sunbathing.”

She lived her life like that, Jackson thought. With the brakes on. He wondered what it would take to get her to release those brakes.

“Sunbathing sounds good right now. This place is freezing.” Zipping her jacket up to the neck, Kayla sipped her coffee. “So downhill is for adrenaline junkies. I’ve got that. What else?”

“Then there’s the Super-G.”

“Super-G?”

“Super Giant Slalom.” Tyler glanced at his brother in despair. “Where the hell did you find her?”

“He found me in an office in New York. And I may not be able to stay upright on skis, but I can do my job as well as you do yours. I got my last client on the cover of the New York Times and Time magazine.” She put her cup down and smiled sweetly. “In my business that’s the equivalent of two Olympic golds, just in case you’re wondering. And under my direction we generated over three hundred million media impressions for that account, which means the number of people who saw that product mentioned was probably higher than the number of people watching your performance on TV.”

Tyler narrowed his eyes. “I’d say you crashed and burned your first night here.”

Jackson swore under his breath, but Kayla laughed.

“I definitely DNF’d in that meeting. But we all have a bad run sometimes. The important thing is to get back up and race again.” Throwing his own words back at him, she leaned forward. “People would pay a great deal to ski with you. To hear you speak about your experiences. You’re passionate about what you do. You’re an attraction.”

“For God’s sake, don’t tell him that.” Sean reached across the table for a bowl of fries. “Who ordered these? Since when do we live on junk food?”

“Since I’m no longer competing.” Tyler removed the fries from his brother. “And I’m more of an attraction than you are. I’ve got medals to prove it.”

“All those medals prove is that you ski like someone on a suicide mission.” Sean let Tyler take the bowl but helped himself to a handful. “Not that I’m comp

laining. It’s people like you who keep people like me in a job, so you carry on and snap those bones, bro.”

Jackson saw Kayla wince. “Enough medical talk. You’re back early, Sean. We weren’t expecting you until Christmas Eve.”

“I’ve worked the last four Christmases in a row. Figured I deserved parole.” Sean caught the attention of the waitress and ordered a green salad.

“Does Mom know you’re home?”

“Of course. Hence the green salad. I’m full of gingerbread Santas and I’m saving myself for dinner. Tonight is family night. Which means Gramps wanting to know why I have to fix bones in Boston when there are plenty of the broken variety around here, Mom stuffing me with food and Grams knitting while Jackson talks profit and loss.”

“It’s mostly loss, which you’d know if you read your emails.”

“I spent ten hours operating yesterday. It was precision work. By the time I’d finished my eyes wouldn’t focus enough to read emails.”

“I just thought since you own a share of this place you might like to know what’s happening.”

“I own the wine cellar. That might see a significant loss tonight. I’m thinking we’re going to be at least half a crate down.” Sean winked at Kayla. “I hope you’re joining us for dinner. I need someone to dilute the concentration of O’Neils and add some New York sophistication to the proceedings.”