“You think he’s taking on too much?”
She grinned. A blazing flash of teeth that lit her face.. Her eyes glowed and her lips parted to show a hint of teeth. “Life’s not fun unless you’re taking on something.”
Chest tight, Dominic stared at her, breath caught in his throat and heart stuttering like he was twelve and the first time he’d seen Susie Dorman in school. It couldn’t be happening. But it was. He’d never thought it possible, but in that instant, he knew he was falling in love—with a stranger he barely knew, with a woman who only knew him as a fraud, with someone who’d think him a rich idiot who was far too much like her late husband.
He stared at her. And he kept thinking, damn, damn, damn.
Chapter Eight
Thoughts of Paris kept him up way too late, and then erotic dreams of her naked in the snow, wearing only furry boots woke him early. He brought himself off with his own hand and took a cold shower—and knew this wasn’t love so much as the worst case of lust ever. That had to be it. It’d been far too long since he’d had a woman—business had taken over his life lately. He’d been focused on the water deal and land acquisition for so long he’d forgotten his body had other needs. Now here he was with a beautiful woman close by—he needed to get her into his bed so he could get over her.
And how tough would that be?
She wasn’t married, wasn’t dating, and wasn’t interested in h
im for his money. But hell if he could remember the last time he’d had to seduce a woman. They usually started throwing themselves at him as soon as they knew his name. But this was one thing he couldn’t throw money at—he had no money and there was nowhere to buy her an expensive dinner or a gift. He was also pretty damn certain she’d already had most of the good life from her late husband. From how she had talked, she viewed her marriage as a good thing to have gone, and not the kind of life she’d enjoyed. Which was great. They could have quick affair and that would be that.
None of that logic helped him when he saw her the next morning.
She’d come downstairs in shorts and a ski cap. He approved of the shorts and hiking boots at once—she had great legs. Long and tan, and the boots only emphasized the muscular curve of her legs. She smiled and his heart skipped to a faster beat. She came over to him and tucked another cap on his head and handed him mittens.
“Seriously?” he asked.
“It’s supposed to be eighty today, but Michael wants us to try building a snowman.”
“Right,” Dominic drew out the word. Paris grinned. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into a kiss. “Sure you don’t want to just make out here in the lobby?”
She laughed and pushed at his chest. He released her. “We can’t disappoint Michael. It’s his day to cook.”
“Ah, got it.” Heading outside, Dominic found Michael standing in a small meadow not far from the main parking lot. Michael stood next to a large machine that looked more like a snow blower than a snow machine. Black cables ran into solar panels. Dominic walked a circle around the machine.
Rubbing his hands together, Michael asked, “What do you think?”
“I’ll let you know after I see it working.” Dominic walked over to where Paris stood. “You sure he’s not making Frankenstein’s monster there?”
“You got the title right—I’m impressed. It’s Dr. Frankenstein—and his monster. Most folks call the monster Frankenstein. How’d you know that?”
He glanced at her. “I do read. At least I used to. I majored in English in college.”
“Really? Not art?”
Face hot, he shook his head. “No, I kind of fell into that.”
Michael shouted he was ready. Paris pulled her ski hat down lower and clamped her hands over her ears. Dominic was going to ask about that, but Michael flipped a switch and his machine hummed to life with an eerie whine. Over the sound, Dominic yelled, “Well, it runs.”
White flakes puffed from the opposite end. They drifted on the wind to where Paris stood. Dragging off a glove, Paris held out a hand. A flake landed onto her palm. She stared at it. “Oh, my—it’s working!” Giving a laugh, she caught another flake and another. She packed the flakes together until she had a small snow ball. She threw it at Dominic. “It’s working!”
Dominic shook his head.
Michael and Paris danced around the machine, scooping up the man-made snow, tossing it in the air, laughing and playing like two kids.
Running over to him, Paris grabbed his hand. “Come on!”
He resisted her tug. “Someone’s got to be the adult.”
She shook her head at him. Letting go of him, she ran to a shed and came out with a battered old sled. A small hill rolled down from the meadow. Paris climbed on the sled and yelled over the boom of the engine, “I need a push!”
Michael was doing something with his machine now, fiddling with some knobs. Trudging over to Paris—the snow was melting fast and becoming mud—Dominic got behind her and started to push.