Chapter Six

Nick eased onto the couch in the living room and sat sideways, lifting his foot to rest it on the cushion beside him. Thanks to the aspirin Lyssa had given him with supper, his ankle was doing well. As long as he didn’t put weight directly on the foot, he felt no pain.

Settled as comfortably as he could hope to get, he sat staring into the fire. He didn’t want to think about Lyssa upstairs with the kids, where she’d gone to take care of putting the two younger ones to bed.

And he sure didn’t want to think about Lyssa joining him downstairs at any minute. Even now, he could hear footsteps on the stairs.

He grabbed a magazine from the coffee table and spread it open in front of him, feeling like a cross between a lily-livered coward and a manner-less creep—and somehow not giving a damn. Why should he care what Lyssa thought of him? She had cut him out of her life months ago.

Seconds later, to his surprise and relief, he saw it wasn’t Lyssa but Mollie who entered the living room. He smiled at her. “Thought you were getting tucked into bed.”

“It’s only seven thirty.”

“But you’ve had a very big day.”

“You, too, Mr. Nick.” She sidled over to the couch and leaned against the arm closest to him. He left his foot propped up but had to twist sideways to see her face. She was frowning. “Did Miss Lyssa’s medicine help your ankle?” she asked.

“Yes, it did. I should be good as new tomorrow.” A stretch there, maybe, but Mollie looked extraordinarily concerned. She had eyed him with that same brow-furrowed expression all through dinner, too. Nice of her to worry.

Maybe he’d jumped to a conclusion with his first impression of her, when she’d been so strict about all the Santa rules.

“Where is Miss Lyssa, anyhow?” he asked. Great. How low could he go? He couldn’t keep his mind off Lyssa, and now he was using this kid as a resource to gather information about her.

“She’s taking care of Tommy. He’s a baby. I’m not. That’s why I’m down here.”

But even as she said the words, he could see Lyssa’s feet in her borrowed bedroom slippers as she padded down the stairs.

He focused on Mollie, who had her back to the stairway. But he deliberately pitched his voice loud enough for Lyssa to hear. “No need to worry. I’m going to be fine, you know.” That would show her.

“Yes, I know.” Mollie leaned toward him until her nose almost touched his chin and whispered, “But you’d better be careful.”

He raised his brows and stared. She couldn’t have picked up on the vibes flowing between him and Lyssa…could she? “Careful about what?” he asked cautiously.

In the background, he saw Lyssa freeze.

“You laughed at suppertime,” Mollie hissed.

He did a double take. Maybe he wasn’t that far wrong about her, after all. He sent a quick look across the room at Lyssa. Obviously, she had overheard Mollie, because she stood there struggling to hide a smile. He looked back at the girl. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know there was a rule around here about laughing. Do we have to follow it all day or just during meals?”

She rolled her eyes. “There’s no rule. But you sounded just like Santa Claus.”

What could he say to that? Grimacing, he shifted his position on the couch. Questioning clients, he could handle. Kids were another matter. With Tommy, he’d hit it lucky a couple of times. With this little girl, he was out of his depth and knew it.

At the party, he’d once or twice overheard her call his assistant “Miss Lyssa.” No doubt about it there, his elf’s cover had been blown. But what about the Jolly Old Elf himself? That afternoon, Mollie had definitely sounded as though she thought he was Santa. Telling her the truth now might devastate the girl.

As if seeing his dilemma, Lyssa crossed the room.

Mollie looked up at her. “Tell him, Miss Lyssa. I know Mr. Nick’s not really Santa Claus. Because there is no real Santa Claus. But Tommy doesn’t know it.”

“Is that causing a problem?” Lyssa asked.

“Yes.” Mollie waved her arms so forcefully, she almost fell over the arm of the couch into his lap. “At the party, Tommy heard you say ‘Nick,’ and now he thinks Mr. Nick is Santa.”

“That’s not such a big deal,” he said, smiling at her.

She opened her mouth.

“Mollie”—Lyssa rested her hand on the girl’s shoulder—“you’re tired. It’s been a long day. Why don’t you go on up to bed? Mr. Nick and I can worry about this. Right, Mr. Nick?” She smiled brightly at him, probably the last thing she felt like doing. Not once since they had first seen each other again that afternoon had she given him a genuine smile. Nothing real about this one, either.

“Right,” he agreed. “You head on upstairs, Mollie. I’ll take care of everything.”

She gave him a huge grin that made up for all Lyssa’s smile had lacked. He couldn’t help grinning back.

Mollie ducked her head and giggled, then nearly ran toward the stairs.

Lyssa moved away almost as quickly.

Without looking at him, she walked to the fireplace, took up the metal poker, and prodded a log. “You seem to have made a conquest.”

“What?” he asked, surprised. “You mean the kid? No, I’ve seen that expression on plenty of my clients’ faces. She’s just relieved I said I’ll take care of everything. No big deal. It’s what I do.”

“Oh, really? And here I thought you looked like you needed help.”

“Not a chance.” He laughed. Shifted position. Shoved a pillow under his right knee. All delaying tactics.

He probably should have thanked her for her help with his boot, but doing so now would only remind her of his injury. It was bad enough she’d already seen him hurt and wincing in pain. Better for him to keep quiet, to dedicate himself to the age-old male tradition that said “never let them see you sweat.”

When he said nothing else, she stabbed at the log. A portion of it lighted into flame and crumbled. She stood for a while staring at the pile of glowing embers.

Finally, he asked, “Did the boys get settled?”

“I think so.”

“How’s Tommy doing?”

She shrugged. “Once we got upstairs, he decided he didn’t like the idea of sleeping alone.” She set the poker on its stand and turned to him. “I’m sure you’d have found a way to convince him. You seem to have a knack for dealing with the kids.”

She sounded oddly annoyed, probably at the idea of having to compliment him.

“Yeah. I’d have handled Mollie fine, too, if she hadn’t deferred to you first.” Resting comfortably against the couch, he nodded and smiled in satisfaction, always ready to talk about one of his favorite subjects. “Negotiation is all in the timing, Lyssa. You talk with the other party, get a feel for them. Then even before they give you their demands, you know what they want. So you offer that and turn it into a win-win situation. Easy enough to do with something like Tommy’s sleeping arrangements. How did you manage with him?”

“I guess I’m not the negotiator you are. Let’s just say, it wasn’t win-win. More like concede-win-lose.” Now, though she looked at him without blinking, he had the odd impression she didn’t see him. “Of course I wouldn’t force a child to sleep alone in a strange house. I put Tommy in with Brent. He was chattering away when I left them.”

“Brent must have liked that.”

“That’s the lose. I’m sure Brent would rather have been on his own. Although, to tell you the truth, I’m not sure he even noticed. He had his earbuds in and his music cranked up. Tommy didn’t pay a bit of attention to that, just kept talking.” She shook her head.

“You think he’ll get to sleep?”

“I’m sure he will. They all will. After our hike through the blizzard, they’re worn out. And Tommy burned up a lot of energy running in the snow.”

She sank onto a chair opposite him and slumped against the cushion. Firelight outlined her profile, throwing her features into light and shadow. Beneath the tinge of color, her skin looked pale, her expression drained. He wanted to reach out to her. At one time, she would have settled beside him on the couch and he would have taken her into his arms.

Not now. And never again.

“We ought to turn in, too,” he said flatly. “You’re probably as worn out as the kids.” She didn’t answer. No surprise there. He knew she wouldn’t admit to being exhausted. “Have we got another bedroom upstairs?”

Instantly, her eyes narrowed and her chin jutted upward. “We have two bedrooms upstairs.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender at her tone. What did she think, that he intended to share her room? And her bed? Six months ago, he might have had a shot at succeeding with that. Now, he knew better than to throw the offer out onto the bargaining table.

Not that they had come anywhere close to a bargaining table.

“Hey,” he said, forcing a smile, “a bed to myself is fine by me. In fact, my ankle and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Good. I left you the room at the top of the stairs so you wouldn’t have far to go once you got up there.”

“While you were upstairs, did you try your cell phone again?”

“No service,” she said shortly.

“No satellite, either.” In disgust, he picked up the remote from the couch and tossed it onto the coffee table. The clatter sounded loud in the quiet room. “How Michael can stand it up here, I don’t know.”

“I’m sure he feels he’s away from the world.”

“Exactly my point. I’d be climbing the walls. I am climbing the walls.”

“If you’re looking for something to keep you busy, you can take care of the fire for me again. I’m heading upstairs.”

He nodded. “I can do that. And in the morning, I’ll find a way to get us off this mountain.”

“Looking for a win-win, even with Mother Nature?” Shaking her head, she left the room.

As he watched her climb the stairs again, he felt an overwhelming urge to go with her. To be with her. Not something that was going to happen.

One, because wasn’t sure he could make it up the stairs without falling on his face.

And two, because he knew darned well what that headshake of hers had meant. She didn’t appreciate the fact that his mind was geared to go to work whenever a problem cropped up. Clients paid him thousands of dollars for the kind of advice he’d given to Lyssa free of charge. But she didn’t like any solution he offered when it came to her.

Definitely not a great show of faith in him.

Shoving aside the drape behind the couch, he stared out the window. He saw nothing but his own face reflected back at him. It didn’t look like the face of a man who had answers.

He didn’t like knowing thoughts of Lyssa had reduced him to this.

Damn it, he was a professional problem-solver. Tomorrow morning, no matter what Lyssa thought about him or what Mother Nature had in store, he was going to find a way out of here.

…

Always an early riser, Lyssa was up with the sun the next morning. All night, she’d tossed and turned and, as a result, she didn’t so much wake up as force herself to sit up and face the day.

And the kids.

And Nick.

She would bet none of them—herself included—would be in the happiest of moods. The situation was upsetting to all three of the kids and impossible for her and Nick.

More than once last night, she had gone to the window and stood looking down toward the front porch where the light she had left burning spilled its golden glow across the snow. Every time she checked, the drifts had crept higher. No matter what Nick said about finding a way off the mountain, it seemed almost certain that being snowbound at the lodge would be their reality—at least for the next couple of days.

Keeping the kids occupied didn’t concern her. What worried her was what she would do about Nick. And how she would handle her own reactions to being with him again.

Long after she’d left him in the living room last night, she had heard him making his slow way up the stairs. It had taken every ounce of self-restraint she had to keep from going out there to help him.

He had slept in the room next to hers, with just one thin wall between them. But a lot more separated them than plasterboard and paint. With their backgrounds and their lives and their beliefs so far apart from each other…forget being from different planets. They didn’t even live in the same solar system.

A knock on her bedroom door startled her from her thoughts.

“Miss Lyssa?” Tommy called.

“Just a minute.” As she swung her feet to the floor, she ran a hand through her hair, now tangled from her restless night. Not sure if she would have to check in on Tommy, she had gone to bed dressed in her borrowed sweater. She had shed Amber’s pants and left them on the chair beside the bed. Quickly, she pulled them on.

She didn’t want to think about what Nick had worn—or not worn—during the night.

Tommy knocked on the door again.

“Come in,” she called, yanking her sweater down around her hips.

The door opened. Tommy entered at a trot, picked up speed as he crossed the room, and jumped up to land on the foot of the king-size bed. “I’m hungry,” he announced. His cheeks still bore the creases from his bedclothes, and his hair looked as tangled as hers felt. “I woke up hours and hours and hours ago, and my tummy’s making rumbly noises.”

Lyssa looked at the bedside alarm clock and saw with relief that it was only seven thirty. This early, Tommy couldn’t possibly be starved quite yet.

“I told him he had to wait until you came downstairs,” Mollie said from the doorway, “but he wouldn’t listen.” She walked sedately into the room and sat on the corner of the bed opposite Tommy.

“Don’t wanna listen,” he said. “Miss Lyssa, I’m hungry.”

“You should have had more chicken wings last night,” Brent said. He stood leaning against the doorjamb and rubbing his eyes, looking about Tommy’s age. Then he grinned sheepishly. “But I ate a lot of those wings, and I’m hungry, too.”

Lyssa laughed. “I think you polished off all of them, Brent.”

He chuckled and ducked his head.

The movement reminded her of the scene with Mollie and Nick the night before. Brent’s shy reaction came from teenaged embarrassment at being singled out. Mollie’s response to Nick said plainly that the little girl had developed what could be her first crush.

Lyssa had felt the same about Nick the first time she had seen him, just before he’d gone up to get into his Santa suit in this very lodge the year before. With one glance, she had fallen hard for his dark hair and even darker eyes, for his strong jaw and wide shoulders, and for his tall, solid frame.

Solid and dependable. That’s what she had thought of him by the end of that day. After only a few dates, she believed she had finally found someone she wanted to be with forever.

Instead, their relationship had lasted about as long as a snowfall on a summer day.

She surfaced from her memories to find all three kids staring at her, their expressions hopeful.

“All right,” she said. “Everyone out of the room. I’ll meet you downstairs in a couple minutes, and we’ll see what we can pull together for breakfast.”

Tommy obligingly slid from the edge of the bed. “No chicken, please,” he said.

She laughed. “No chicken,” she assured him.

As soon as they left, she took a quick trip to the adjoining bathroom to wash her face and hands. The rich, scented lather of the soap and the soft, luxurious hand towel made her give thanks for Amber’s attention to detail. In the medicine cabinet above the sink, she found a tube of minty toothpaste and several unwrapped toothbrushes, which only made her appreciate her little sister more.

She had begun what she suspected would be an unsuccessful attempt to fluff her hair into place when a door on the opposite side of the room opened. A door she assumed had led to a linen closet.

Not even close. Not unless Nick had somehow taken a wrong turn during the night.

He stood reflected in the wide mirror above the sink. His unbuttoned shirt looked rumpled, as if he’d just rolled out of bed. A night’s growth of beard stubbled his chin and jaw. His hair looked even more uncontrolled than hers, but on him it looked oh-so-touchable and unbelievably sexy.

All three observations hit her at once, freezing her in mid-fluff. In the mirror, his gaze dropped to her midsection, where the sweater rose high above the pants she hadn’t yet buttoned. He stood staring, as if he couldn’t look away. Even in the mirror, even from this distance, she would swear she saw his eyes darken with pleasure. An answering shiver ran through her.

They stood unmoving for moments—minutes?—until, swallowing hard, she came to her senses and dropped her trembling hands to her sides.

When she turned to face him, his gaze traveled slowly upward, eventually meeting hers. “Good morning,” he said.

“So far, so good,” she agreed, hating that her voice sounded shaky, too. She cleared her throat. “But it would have been nice of you to announce your entrance before you barged in.”

“I didn’t know you were here,” he protested. “After I heard the kids’ voices and then all the footsteps pounding down the stairs, I figured you were with them.”

“Wrong.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” His gaze drifted downward.

Almost without thinking, she resettled her sweater over her hips.

“Don’t worry, you already had everything covered. Darn it.” His mouth curved in a slow smile that made her heart forget a few beats. “You still look good first thing in the morning, Lyssa.”

She frowned. “What do you mean, still? We’ve never spent the night together.”

“Yes, we did. Once. Did you forget all about it already?”

Oh, right. That night… How could she have forgotten? “Maybe I don’t want to remember. It wasn’t one of our most memorable dates. Don’t you recall?” She’d tried for archness, but her voice cracked in irritation on the final word. “And I wouldn’t classify that evening as doing anything together. I fell asleep on your couch while you stayed in your office making international calls all night.”

“Business never sleeps.”

“Evidently,” she snapped, biting back what she really wanted to say. They would have a long enough day ahead of them without her spending most of it engaged in battle with him. A battle she couldn’t win, anyway. Nick would never understand her perspective.

“Speaking of sleep,” he said, probably wanting to get away from the touchier subject as quickly as she did, “did you have a good night?”

“Fine, thank you.” Not in a million years would she admit the truth. Especially the part that involved her fantasy of going to him in the next room during her long, lonely, not good night.

She pushed away the memory of her small shiver of pleasure at finding him watching her from the doorway. Her body had reacted before her sleep-deprived brain could respond. Now, she felt nothing but irritation. His sudden politeness grated on her nerves. Or maybe her stress level was shooting up from seeing the picture he made. He stood with one hip resting against the doorjamb, his arms crossed carelessly over his bare chest. His eyes looked heavy-lidded, bed-ready, and even sexier than his tousled hair.

Heat flooded her cheeks. Get a grip, girl. And get your mind on something else. “How is your ankle?” she managed.

“Surprisingly, not bad. Guess that aspirin you gave me did the trick.”

She waved a hand at the medicine cabinet. “Well, if you need more, help yourself. I’d better see what the kids are up to.” Quickly, she glanced at herself in the mirrored cabinet door. Sure enough, her cheeks were flaming.

Worse, above her own reflection, she caught an image of Nick’s. He was staring at her with one brow raised and his mouth twisted in a half-smile, as if wanting to let her know he understood exactly what had brought on her furious blush.