Ashley Woodsen had one dream for her much-anticipated week off work: her couch, her TV, and a year’s supply of Ben & Jerry’s. She’d worked double shifts at the hospital for what felt like decades now, and she’d officially run out of steam. This week’s vacation had come at just the right moment.

But it was supposed to be a staycation, at home in her pajamas, slobbing out and sleeping whenever she wanted to, and maybe, possibly, not even showering.

Instead she found herself halfway up a mountain, surrounded by a mini army of the rich and fabulous.

And yes, she counted her friends in that.

Fabulous, all of them—Drew and Cami, Maggie and Declan. Even Preston.

Don’t think about Preston.

Except she couldn’t help thinking about him, because he was the sole reason they were up on this mountain, currently checking into the grand—though not the grandest, as Preston would say—Murray Slopes ski resort, sitting pretty just outside Denver.

Farther up the mountain, to the east, loomed the Alcott Resort. Preston had filled them all in when he’d pitched this vacation to them: Alcott Resort had been his grandfather’s—Jacob Alcott’s—passion project. A luxurious, exclusive ski resort, grander than any other in the kingdom, so to speak. Only it had never gotten finished. The guy had died, and Preston’s father had inherited, but he’d had no interest in ski resorts. So the building languished, empty and unfinished, steadily falling into ruin. Preston had waited nearly a decade to acquire control of the property, and now here they all were.

“I’ve invited a ton of investors up to see the place,” he’d told them over dinner a month ago—during which Ashley had pointedly refused to look him in the eye, or even act as if she’d been listening. She burned beet red every time she thought about their one night together—no. Stop it, she told herself sternly. Forget it happened. “To try to convince them that Alcott Resort is a venture worth backing. I’ve gotta get the place finished,” he’d continued passionately, a rough note in his voice that flung Ashley back to that night in the hotel room, the way he’d murmured broken words into her skin… For god’s sake, Ash, get a grip. “It’s my grandfather’s legacy.”

“But what does this have to do with all of us?” Drew asked him, quite reasonably Ashley thought. It was all very well and good getting together for a friendly meal, but Preston clearly had an agenda, which he admitted with little more than a bashful—and entirely charming, oh god—smile.

“You got me,” he said, green eyes twinkling. In the romantic candlelight, he looked like he could’ve been Hollywood royalty, right back in the Golden Age of the screen. He looks like that in any light, Ashley’s subconscious reminded her, annoyingly.

And so he’d gone on to explain their roles in it, how he needed backup, people on his side who could talk up the project. Help him sell it. “And make up the numbers,” he added ruefully.

Ashley found herself swept along and agreeing without even considering what she was agreeing to.

And now here she was, up on Preston’s mountain.

Of course, he didn’t own the whole mountain. Ashley was pretty sure he was a billionaire of some caliber, though even he had some limits. But what he did own was the property: all of Alcott Resort, obviously, plus half of the resort they were checking into—Murray Slopes—and she’d heard something about shares in the third resort around the other side of the mountain, although she knew little about it. And that was just the property he owned on this mountain. He was a property mogul—had buildings throughout the length and breadth of America, everything from studio apartments to…well, ski resorts. The man’s wealth was mind-bending.

It made Ashley a little uncomfortable to think about it. She wasn’t like Maggie or Cami—those girls belonged to this world now, and they wore it with style. Even Cami, who hadn’t been born into this life like Maggie, but still filled the shoes so elegantly. Ashley, on the other hand, always said the most awkward thing, or stumbled at the wrong moment, or wore the “non-designer” brands. She didn’t feel natural in the presence of Preston and his friends.

But she loved her friends—Cami and Maggie. And she liked Declan and Drew, or at least what she knew of them. And so she could bear this vacation, hopefully without making too much of a fool of herself.

Maggie chose that moment to put an arm around Ashley’s shoulders and squeeze her against her side, as if overcome by a sudden rush of affection. “So glad you could make it,” she said, releasing her. They were standing in the lobby, waiting for the men to finish checking them in, while they watched the various investors and vacationers mill around in impressively varied shades of wool.

Ashley smiled at her. “Me too.” And she wasn’t lying, not really. Sure, she would’ve preferred chilling out at home this week, getting some much-needed rest, but she was definitely happy to see her two best friends, spend some time with them. Maybe enjoy herself a little.

“And don’t worry about Preston.”

Ashley blinked. “I wasn’t,” she said, even as her stomach swooped. Cami chose that moment to return from the bathroom and join them, eyebrows raised as she tried to catch the thread of the conversation.

“He’s staying at the Alcott anyway,” Maggie continued, “so you’ll only really see him during the investor ball.”

“I doubt that’s true,” Ashley said, snorting. Now that Cami knew what they were talking about, her eyes lit up. Ashley gave her a warning look.

Maggie considered Ashley, slight frown suggesting she had something on her mind. And, already sensing where this line of enquiry was going, Ashley prayed for a distraction to swoop in and draw attention away from her. “We haven’t really had a chance to catch up,” Maggie pushed regardless, and she was right, they hadn’t. Between Maggie’s honeymoon and Ashley’s work, they’d had little time to sit and chat, which made this vacation all the more bearable. But not if Ashley had to hear that name every minute of the damn day.

Having received no immediate response other than a thin-lipped smile, Maggie took a sharp breath and jumped right in. “The Preston thing—”

Ashley groaned, trying to ignore Cami’s face splitting into a wide grin. “There isn’t a Preston thing.”

“Okay, except I saw you leave with him the night of my wedding. And Cami’s face is telling a story all on its own right now.” Cami was even bouncing on her toes, for god’s sake.

“Cam!”

“I’m sorry!” she wailed. “I can’t help it. He was just… Oh my god, Mags, wait until you hear how much of a gentleman he is.”

Maggie wrinkled her nose. “Preston?” she said, sounding entirely disbelieving. Ashley didn’t blame her—if it hadn’t been for that night, she would’ve called bullshit, too.

She scowled at Cami. “I never should’ve told you anything.” But Cami seemed completely unperturbed, her gorgeous face all lit up with glee. Ashley couldn’t even really be mad at her.

“Well you did tell her,” Maggie said flatly, “and now you’re gonna tell me. Or Cami will explode.”

Cami nodded.

“Ugh. Fine.”

Truthfully, she was grateful for the opportunity to talk about him a little. Not that she was into him or anything—it was just that she was about to spend so much time in his company, and her nerves were shot to hell about it. Maybe if she could talk about him, it’d burn out of her system.

Glancing around for potential eavesdroppers, and making sure the men were still waiting at the check-in desk, Ashley shuffled in closer to the girls and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “So it was the end of your wedding…”

Ashley enjoyed weddings, she really did. She wasn’t entirely sure she was still enjoying this one, though. It’d been a long night, and she’d had such a long week, and surely it was okay to leave now that the mother of the bride herself had headed off to the hotel?

Eyeing Maggie mid-conversation at the other side of the stunning log cabin room, Ashley made her way across the makeshift dance floor.

Or at least tried to. She was abruptly—and rather rudely, she thought—interrupted by Preston Alcott. Of all people.

He’d stepped into her path, forcing her to grind to a sudden halt. The dazzling smile on his face did little to ease her irritation. Or her embarrassment.

She was always a little embarrassed in his company, the buzz of humiliation just lingering beneath the surface of her skin. Ever since that time she’d kissed him. Thrown herself at him.

God.

“When are you gonna dance with me?” he said.

The nerve of him. All six-foot-two of him. All chiseled jaw and heartbreakingly soulful eyes of him. And those shoulders, Jesus, this was how she’d ended up in trouble last time…

She scowled. “I didn’t know I was supposed to.”

“As the only single groomsman,” he said, stepping in close and taking her wrist gently, “I think it’s a legal requirement I get at least one dance with the most beautiful woman in the room.” He smoothly arranged them into a loose dance hold, and Ashley’s heart stuttered a little.

“Nice line,” she conceded.

“Thanks.” He flashed her a grin, damn near blinding her. There was a shadow of scruff along his jaw, and his unbuttoned collar showed a glimpse of tanned skin. Her breath hitched. “Shall we?” he asked.

She swallowed. “I’m a little drunk.”

“Excellent. So am I.”

“I can’t really dance.”

“We’ll sway,” he said.

“Sway?”

“Yes,” he murmured, “sway,” and abruptly tucked her tight against his body. She prayed to god the little gasp she released sounded like nothing other than surprise.

They swayed, or some approximation of it. She could tell he was trying his hardest not to lead her, come across forceful. To just let them…sway. Slowly and gently, and without any real notice of the music.

It was kind of nice, Ashley had to admit.

If he could feel the pounding of her heart against his chest, he was too polite to mention it.

Then she caught sight of something across the room that made her stomach sour, just slightly. She huffed a laugh. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

He looked down at her, all strong eyebrows and softly amused smirk. “What am I doing?” His voice rumbled, something more intimate than a murmur.

Ashley cleared her throat and grabbed the end of her thought before she got lost in those luminous eyes. “There’s a tall, blonde society girl over there, who you should’ve had in bed, oh, about an hour ago? I’m the make-her-jealous pawn, isn’t that right?”

His left eyebrow lifted as if humored by her, although there was something about the tightening of his mouth that said he wasn’t too pleased with her words. “Is that what you think of me?”

“I mean, it’s the cliff notes.”

“How long have we known each other now?”

She didn’t have to think too long about it, but she did have to fight the monumental blush threatening to burn up her cheeks. “Since Cami’s wedding.”

“Hmm.” He gazed around the room pointedly, at all the markings of a wedding. He didn’t once look back at the tall blonde, Ashley quietly noticed. “I’m sensing a theme.”

There was a camaraderie about him, as if this was all an inside joke between them. You and me, getting up to no good at weddings, eh, Ash?

“We’re not friends, Preston,” she said, and the moment the words left her mouth, she wished for them back. She hadn’t meant to be so blunt. She’d only intended on reminding him that there was no familiarity between them. They were strangers. He shouldn’t feel obligated to spend any time with her.

His hand moved from her waist to around her hip, settling on the small of her back like a brand.

“You were at my apartment last week,” he pointed out, as if totally unaware of the effect that one hand was having on her.

She needed her heart to calm the hell down, right now. Before she made a holy show of herself. Surely he could feel it. Surely he knew…

“With Cami and Drew,” she said, fighting to keep the playing field level. “And don’t say “apartment” like you live in a one-bedroom. Your place is bigger than the city library.”

He pressed his lips together. “Not sure that’s true.”

“I came because Cami asked me to tag along. We were going straight out for drinks afterwards.” Which was the truth, if not the whole truth. There had been a small part of her that night that was curious to see how he lived. And to see him, if only for a few minutes. Just remind herself of how breathtakingly handsome he was. Like something blasted high and wide on a billboard, designed to stop traffic.

Big mistake going there, it turned out. She’d dreamed of nothing but his perfect face and delicious body all damn week.

“You still came,” he pointed out softly, and she had to flutter her eyelids shut for a moment. She could only look at him in small doses, lest she melt into a puddle at his feet.

“It was nothing to do with you.”

When he next spoke, it nearly knocked her off her feet. “Am I the only one who remembers our little moment at Drew and Cami’s wedding?”

He was looking right at her, the two of them inches from each other’s face. She could feel his breath across her skin. She could remember, as if by sense memory, the taste of his tongue.

“There wasn’t a moment,” she said.

“We kissed in the cloakroom.”

“Accidentally.”

“Accidentally?”

“Yes! Accidentally!” she snapped, embarrassment manifesting as anger. “I only went in there to get that old lady’s pashmina for her—”

“And fell face first onto my lips?”

They’d stopped moving, she noticed. He was still holding her. Still looking directly at her. Holding her gaze. Capturing her.

“It was dark,” she said.

“No it wasn’t.”

“I was drunk.”

“That part’s true.” His hand tightened on hers. “You wanted to kiss me.”

“You’re an attractive man,” she blurted, and it was no good—the blush made its grand arrival, heating up her skin like a beacon. She could’ve died, except she kind of didn’t want him to let go. “To some people,” she added swiftly, voice dropping to a mumble. “I was seeing you through a haze of alcohol.”

He licked his bottom lip, looking like a dozen different shades of sin. “You know I was going to invite you home?”

It sobered her, a little. Those words. Because going back to his place that night might’ve led to a good time, and yet she knew how it would’ve turned out in the end. A drunken night with a bridesmaid was one thing, but waking up next to her and seeing, in sobriety, that she was the exact opposite of his usual glamorous blondes…

She wouldn’t have been able to handle the humiliation.

“Then it’s a good thing you didn’t. You’d have been disappointed.”

“Because you would’ve said no?”

No, because I’m probably not your dream girl, not in the light of day.

“Yep,” she said tightly.

“Kiss me.”

She stuttered over her next breath. “What?”

“Go on,” he said, pulling her closer, until she could count every eyelash framing his darkened eyes. “You know you want to.”

God help her, but she found his overconfidence sexy. Too sexy.

A tingle spread through her groin.

“No. I don’t.”

He rolled his eyes in playful exasperation, and she almost smiled. He had a way of making her feel so at ease, even when discussing things she usually hid from. Like the idea of hooking up with random men.

Not that he was random, as such. But he was a billionaire playboy, and her heart wasn’t his to stamp on.

“Don’t you ever just want a bit of fun?” he asked, and she laughed.

“I don’t have time for fun. I’m a nurse.”

“So’s Maggie. And she looks like she’s having the time of her life.”

And she did. They both watched her for a moment, the way her whole face was lit up with whatever comment Declan had just murmured into her ear. They looked like the very epitome of happiness.

Maggie craved it so much she could feel her insides twisting with it.

“We’re not all that lucky,” she said, a touch of sadness in her voice.

Preston released her hand to press a finger beneath her chin, tilt her face back up to look at him. An intimate touch, one that left her reeling. “You got a story to tell?”

“Nope,” she lied.

But she knew she didn’t fool him.

He hitched on a smile, took that touch of a finger beneath her chin and turned it into a palm cradling her jaw. Drawing her in. She went with it, her body overruling her head.

He was so very attractive.

“Come on,” he muttered, leaning in to press his forehead to hers. For one heart-stopping moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. And she would’ve let him. “Meet me back in the cloakroom.”

“This is a cabin,” she said, smiling, leaning back to get some space to talk. She couldn’t concentrate when she was close enough to see the specks of gold in his green eyes. “A massive one, I grant you, but still a cabin. It doesn’t have a cloakroom.”

“It’s got a downstairs bathroom.” She gave him a flat look to show him what she thought of that suggestion, and he chuckled. “All right, fine. I’ve got a hotel room about twenty minutes away.”

Her stomach lurched. “You’re not serious.”

“I am.” He looked it too.

She bit her lip, pretending she didn’t notice him watch her do it. “Why?”

He observed her a moment, and then he trailed his hands down her forearms to her wrists, lifting them to fling her hands around his neck. He tucked his own arms around her waist, and she could feel his every heartbeat, just like he could surely feel hers. His was racing to match.

“Because my two best friends are married to the loves of their lives, and I’m feeling a little lonely,” he muttered, rubbing his thumbs in the dip at the small of her back. “Because not so long ago I kissed a beautiful woman in a hotel cloakroom and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since. Because I keep trying to pull that beautiful woman into my life but she acts like she doesn’t even know me, and the whole hard-to-get thing is sexy as hell.”

She couldn’t breathe. She didn’t know what she’d expected him to say, but it hadn’t been that.

It’d been anything but that.

He leaned in closer, traced the tip of his nose against her jawline, as if scenting her. She closed her eyes, her toes curling at the electric tingle shooting down her spine as he licked the very edge of her earlobe and whispered, “Because I want you, and we’re a little drunk, and we deserve to have a little fun.”

She swallowed the thick lump of desire sitting lodged in her throat. “Is that all?”

“Did I mention the beautiful woman part?”

“You did,” she said, laughing a little.

“Then yeah, that’s everything.”

She wanted to. God, did she want to. But she wasn’t naïve, and there was no way she could do this without protecting herself.

“I’m on the rebound,” she said, and it was mostly true, but she wasn’t telling him because she wanted him to know she was vulnerable. She was telling him because she wanted to hide her vulnerability, and have a cushion for the morning, for when he saw her in the light of day. Because if he thought she was only in this for a one-night stand, then he would feel no pressure to come up with an excuse come morning. “It wouldn’t be anything except—”

“I get it.” He said it a little too quickly, like he expected it. Or like he was willing to say anything right now, if it meant he could have her.

She pulled back to look at him. “Okay,” she said, even as her heart leapt into her throat.

His eyes were heavy lidded and dark, his cheeks carrying a hint of flush. There was an edge to his voice when he spoke. “So how about it?”

“Yeah,” she said after a beat, after a dry swallow, after a brief but thorough pep talk with herself. “Guess I’m due a little…fun.”

His smirk was just the right side of filthy.