Cabin Fever Page 3

  Picking up the three books that Ryan had brought down to her, she read the spines and selected the one whose title seemed to leap out at her the most. Putting the other two down, she opened it to the start of the first chapter and began reading.

  "We ready?” Nick said as he breezed past her on the couch and she looked up from her book as she realised that everyone was indeed ready to go.

  She silently cursed them all for leaving her and then consoled herself with her book. Only it seemed like a poor substitute when compared to a night out on the town.

  Her holiday couldn't get worse.

  She watched her friends as they all filed out of the room, chatting and giggling, and then stared at Nick as he stood by the door. There was something ominous about his thin-lipped smile and the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

  "Thought I should warn you,” he started and her jaw tensed as she waited for the bomb to drop, “one of my party had to pick some kit up on his way here, said he'd be here tonight or tomorrow. Thought I'd mention it in case he does show up when I'm not here. Have a nice night, Kate."

  As he laughed and quickly closed the cabin door, she growled and threw the book at him. It bounced harmlessly off the doorjamb and dropped to the floor.

  Perfect.

  She picked up another book and huffed as she opened it up and wriggled to get comfortable without hurting her ankle. This vacation was going rapidly downhill. She had another one of Nick's annoying friends to deal with, feed, and tidy up after. She had a puffy, swollen and sore ankle. No partying with her friends. No skiing. And now part of her wished that she'd stayed in the office.

  Just perfect.

  She'd really hit rock bottom if she wanted to go back to the office.

  There was no way on Earth that this vacation could get any worse.

  Chapter 3

  Jack pushed the door open and took a deep breath as he entered, savouring the smoky wooden smell and the warmth of the fire as it chased away the chill of the outside. He frowned as his foot knocked against something and looked down at the book on the floor. Bending over, he picked it up and smoothed the beaten pages, and then stared at the cover with a quizzical look on his face.

  Staring back at him was a crude painting of a half naked man embracing a woman whose clothes looked as though they were about to fall off.

  Romance?

  Carrying it with him, he closed the door, dumped his kit bag down by it and shook the snow off his jacket before stepping further into the room. He smiled as he scanned it, making a note of everything and subconsciously comparing it to all the log cabins that he'd been in previously.

  He walked over to the fire and was about to warm his hands when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

  It was a girl.

  He cocked his head to one side as he turned to look at her where she was laying on the couch. His dark brows knitted into a frown.

  Her rich brown hair was streaked with shimmers of red as the firelight played on it and a thick patchwork blanket hid her body but he could tell that she was only a slim little thing. He lifted his right brow as her nose wrinkled in her sleep and she rubbed it as though it was cold.

  For a moment, he wondered if he had the right cabin. As far as he knew, Nick and the guys were the only ones supposed to be here. There were no other cabins for miles around and the sign at the bottom of the road had stated that this was the Hamilton's place.

  Sniffing as he mimicked her move by rubbing his nose, his eyes wandered away from her and he smiled when he spotted the drinks cabinet in the corner of the room. As he started towards it, he knocked a pile of books that were on the floor by the sleeping girl and realised that the rogue one must have belonged to her. He placed it neatly down on the pile and moved them closer to the couch so he wouldn't trip over them.

  Opening the drinks cabinet, his eyes lit up when he saw the bottle of whisky, and he poured himself a large glass. He carried it back to the fire and sat down in the armchair, his attention immediately returning to the girl as he sipped the drink, letting it warm him through.

  He couldn't take his eyes off her. Whoever she was, she was sleeping soundly and didn't look like waking any time soon. Nick couldn't have been here long enough to pick up a girl, and by the rear wall was enough skiing equipment for at least six people.

  Slumping further into the chair, he smiled to himself as he felt the fire chasing away the cold of the outside and relaxed as he watched the girl while steadily sipping his whisky.

  Just who was she?

  * * * *

  Kate blinked sleepily as she slowly came around from her nap. When her tired eyes finally focused, they came to rest on a pair of legs not four foot from her. Her gaze roamed up the length of them and she slowly registered that there was something wholly unfamiliar about them.

  On reaching the face of their owner, her eyes flew wide and she wildly scrabbled about for anything that could pass as a weapon to defend herself against the intruder while bracing herself against the pain in her ankle.

  He arched a brow at the ballpoint pen that she was holding with steely determination in her fist.

  "You're going to attack me with a pen?” He looked as though he was going to laugh.

  He sniffed instead.

  "It worked in that Bourne film,” Kate retorted and then wondered what part of her brain had ignored the rest of it when it had been telling her to keep quiet.

  He chuckled this time.

  "Now don't get me wrong. You're clearly a very strong kind of little woman but I don't think you have the credentials to be killing someone with a pen. You're far from CIA material. But..."

  Her eyes followed his every move as he grinned and stood. He dug around in his pocket for something. When he pulled out a lock hunting knife and opened it, her eyes widened further and she pressed herself as far into the couch as possible. Her heart leaped into her throat, beating wildly there and making her feel sick.

  "We could re-enact the scene if you want? See who wins?” He cocked his head to one side as he looked from the knife in his hand to the pen in hers. His eyes remained fixed on her hands and she didn't need to look at them to know they were shaking, betraying her fear to the man standing in front of her.

  There was a flash of something in his eyes, something that looked like sympathy or concern, and then he closed the knife and slipped it back into his pocket.

  "Just who the hell are you?” Kate gave him another defiant look now that the weapon had been removed from the equation.

  "Mate of Nick's—"

  She cut him off with a nod.

  She recalled what her stepbrother had said about another of his party showing up late and realised that this was the man in question. She frowned at him, trying to show him that the intrusion wasn't at all welcome and failing dismally when he smiled at her. He looked older than Nick, but had a similar haircut, his brown hair laced with honey coloured streaks and waxed into spikes. He was smiling at her and it showed in his body language and his expression. It showed everywhere but his eyes. Their hazel depths remained serious, not sparkling with his amusement or showing one ounce of the emotions he was supposedly feeling.

  They looked as though they were doing quite the opposite; they were hiding his feelings.

  "I thought he'd be here, what with the blizzard and all.” He sniffed again and this time itched his nose with the back of his finger.

  She registered that he didn't look as though he was up for much of a fight, he clearly wasn't feeling well, and then gasped as his words sunk in.

  "Blizzard?” She leapt from the couch and started to make a dash for the closed curtains, but the second she placed her weight down on her right ankle, she shrieked. White-hot pain lanced up her leg. It gave way beneath her, causing her to stumble forwards, and she closed her eyes as she waited for the impact.

  She panted hard, her eyes screwed shut as she sucked in sharp breaths through clenched teeth, her eyes watering from the pain.

  As
it began to subside, she realised that she hadn't hit the floor like she'd imagined she had. She was being held at an awkward angle by strong arms that felt so good and comforting that she wanted to melt into them.

  Raising her head, she found herself looking straight into his eyes and struggled to breathe when she saw how close he was. She could make out every fleck of gold against the green of his eyes, could see the defined curvaceous shape of his mouth, and could feel his breath against her face. Her hands were resting against his shoulders and her body was nestled close to his where he was now kneeling on the floor supporting her by holding her waist. He must have dived to catch her when she'd started to fall. She didn't know what to make of it, or what to say to him. She'd never met the kind of man who'd do something like that.

  Her eyes repeatedly darted between his eyes and his mouth. Her heartbeat accelerated as she remained resting in his arms and found herself mesmerised by him. She couldn't decide between them. A part of her wanted to keep her eyes fixed on his clear hazel ones that were now showing his feelings, and were full of concern, and get lost in them. The other half of her wanted to stay with his lips that were so tantalisingly close to hers and let herself get lost in what could only be one hell of a kiss like they silently promised her. Either way, he was so temptingly close to her that once the initial surprise over finding herself in such an intimate position with a man she didn't know flitted away, she got the better of her feelings and pushed off from him and hobbled to the window.

  Desperately trying to get her emotions in check, Kate didn't see the world outside as she stood by the window. It was a whirlwind of white that shifted in and out of focus while she tried to compute what was happening.

  "You're hurt.” Came a voice behind her.

  For the first time since waking to find him staring at her, Kate noticed that he had a deep voice, laced with a British accent that made her want to close her eyes and just listen to him speaking as his dulcet tones smoothed all the tension from her body.

  "I'm fine,” she replied with a bitter edge that she instantly regretted. It wasn't his fault that she was confused. Or was it? He was, after all, the reason that she felt so muddled. She'd been left alone in the house and had been thoroughly miserable. Awaking to the sight of him, she now felt as though being left up here hadn't been such a bad thing. Was that wrong of her? She was wishing away her friends for the sake of this man. She didn't even know him; all she knew was the colour of his eyes, the tone of his voice and the strength of his grip.

  And the concern he'd shown her by stopping her from falling and hurting herself even more.

  As she finally focused on the world outside her window, she noticed that it was rapidly becoming lost in the dense falling snow and suddenly she panicked.

  Jack's eyes flew wide as the woman grabbed a set of keys off the side and yanked the door open. Within seconds, she had disappeared into the darkness, the snow engulfing her even as he was still trying to register what she was doing.

  Running out into the storm after her, Jack attempted to shield his eyes from the snow and narrowed them as he tried to search her out. He opened his mouth to call her name and then realised that he didn't know it. Scouring the darkness for a few seconds, he started to lose hope of finding her as the snow closed in around him.

  A crack of a twig and some angry words cut through the noise of the storm and he trudged through the snow towards the sound. At least a foot of snow had fallen in the few short hours he'd been there.

  A shape appeared through the white gloom.

  She squealed as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her away from the Jeep.

  "Get off me ... I have to go!” She swatted at his arm, her one good leg flailing around as he lifted her up off the ground.

  He ignored the way she was beating the hell out of him for trying to help her and started back towards the house, keeping a firm hold of her.

  That was, until she bit his arm.

  With a low growling noise, he dropped her and instantly grasped his arm. He couldn't see it in the darkness but he swore that she'd broken the skin.

  "Stupid bitch!” he shouted after her.

  Kate had almost made it back to the car when her movements were arrested again and she was spun on the spot to face him. She didn't need to be able to make out his expression in order to know that he was angry with her; she could feel it in the way his fingers grasped her shoulders, pressing into her flesh and making her wince with how tight he was holding her.

  "What the hell are you doing?” he growled the words at her and then his tone softened when she flinched away from him. “You'll get yourself killed out here."

  "I have to get off this mountain. I have to find my sister,” she shouted and then realised that the wind was picking up. She could barely hear over the sound of the trees creaking and swaying as the gale blew up the side of the mountain. The snow was in her eyes, her nose, and her mouth. It was seemingly everywhere. Now that she was beginning to think about it, she felt cold to the bone with no boots on and only her jumper to protect her.

  "Where did they go?” he shouted at her.

  "Town ... they went down into town.” She shivered as the melting snow began to soak through her sweat pants and socks, and onto her skin.

  "Then they'll be fine, but we'll catch our deaths if we stay out here. Come on.” He gripped hold of her hand and started walking back to the cabin. When she began to lag behind, he stopped and scooped her up into his arms.

  She kicked her legs with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, but in reality, she just wanted to curl up against him. His body seemed so warm compared to hers and she struggled against the onset of drowsiness it caused in her. Her ankle was hurting, throbbing madly after her earlier fall into his arms, and even the cold wasn't stopping the burning sensation. It was the only place she felt warm. She couldn't help thinking about how different it felt to be held by him compared to being held by her stepbrother. Nick had a good build, but he hadn't felt as strong as this man did and he hadn't carried her so effortlessly.

  Placing her gently back down on the couch, Jack returned to the cabin door and pushed it shut, battling against the wind and the snow as it tried to force its way into the snug little home.

  He panted heavily as he leaned into the door, giving himself a few moments to regain his strength before walking back over to where the slim brunette now sat on the rug in front of the fire. His eyes followed her movements as she took her socks off and tried to warm her hands and feet, rubbing her toes before holding her hands out to the fire and wiggling her fingers.

  "They okay?” He nodded towards her hands and feet as he found himself suddenly concerned about her again. The snow on his clothes had soaked him through and his whole body felt stiff from the cold, but she was wearing far less protective clothing than he was and he'd noticed when he'd been carrying her that her sweat pants were drenched and she hadn't been wearing any boots.

  She'd felt so light in his arms.

  Flimsy.

  Breakable.

  Like he could snap her in two like a twig.

  But the way she'd fought against him had shown him that her physical appearance belied her strength. She wasn't a weak little girl, but a strong-minded woman who clearly didn't like strange men telling her that she couldn't go after her sister.

  An image of her holding the pen flashed into his head. It had amused him that she'd honestly believed that she could beat him in a fight. He didn't have the biggest build, but that didn't mean that he never worked out and that he wasn't capable of holding himself in a fight. He could easily take on someone twice his size and win. It was all in the intelligence.

  Jack roused himself from his thoughts as he found she was smiling at him.

  "Getting there,” Kate said and her smile widened as he returned it. She watched him closely as he moved towards the fire and sat down next to her on the plush rug. Looking down at the small distance between their legs, she tried to think of something t
o say that wouldn't sound like she was panicking deep down inside about potentially being stuck for countless days in a cabin with a guy she knew nothing about.

  She stared blankly at the flickering flames in the fireplace as a smile slowly weaved across her lips.

  A man she knew nothing about right now.

  But she could remedy that at least.

  "So ... Nick's friend, do you have a name?"

  Jack was staring at his hands when he heard her question. He was fascinated with how the flames appeared to be dancing between his fingers as he held his hands out, his palms facing the warming fire.

  "Jack Darcy,” he said dreamily, not quite registering that he'd answered her question until a few seconds later when she spoke again.

  "Jack? Well ... Jack ... I'm Katrina Hamilton."

  Her voice was near and he turned his head to face her and found that she was leaning close to him, looking over his shoulder at his hands so she could see what he'd been seeing. He was taken aback by how she'd managed to get so close to him without him noticing. Usually he was painfully aware of everything within twenty foot of himself, but with her, it was different. His guard didn't go up at all; he just welcomed her into his personal space without needing to know anything about her first.

  He half smiled.

  Katrina.

  It suited her somehow.

  It sounded springy, energetic and wilful.

  Beautiful, too.

  "Katrina,” he said so quietly that it was almost a whisper and he heard her breathe in sharply.

  Kate didn't know why she'd reacted so strongly to him speaking her name. It was probably the way that he'd pronounced it, emphasising it to her in a hushed intimate tone that set her heart aflame.

  "Yes?” she whispered back at him and realised that she was practically brushing against him as he continued to stare at her face. She avoided his eyes as she withdrew, putting more distance between them and mentally berating herself for being so comfortable around a stranger.

  "Interesting name.” He returned his gaze to the fire and sniffled again as he rubbed at his nose.