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from Karen Booth
Joy McKinley just had to be rescued by one of the wealthiest, sexiest men she’s ever met. Especially when she’s hiding out in someone else’s house under a name that isn’t hers. But when they get snowed in together, can their romance survive the truth?
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SNOWED IN WITH A BILLIONAIRE
Joy McKinley hated to lie to anyone, especially someone as sweet as her fellow bakery worker, Natalie. But she had no choice.
“This is me. On the right. Don’t bother pulling into the driveway. It’s tough to back out. Cars whiz around that turn so fast.” Snow was coming down like crazy now. By all accounts, they were in for one heck of a storm.
“Cute house.” Natalie peered through the window at the rustic cabin Joy had driven past every day on her way up the mountain. Her blond curls poked out from underneath her gray-and-white-striped knit hat. It had a giant pom-pom on top. “You make enough at the bakery to live here by yourself?”
If Natalie knew where Joy was really staying, her eyes would have popped out of her head. This house wasn’t nice enough to be the shed behind the one she was currently living in. “It’s really not that nice. It’s a total fixer-upper on the inside. And it’s just until I decide whether or not I’m staying in Vail long-term.”
Every fib out of Joy’s mouth, however small, ate at her. That was the reason she’d kept to herself since coming to Vail—it was easier to live covertly if you never had to speak to anyone about the details of your life. It made for a solitary existence though, one that was starting to chew a hole through Joy’s sanity and sense of self, especially now that Christmas was almost here. Unfortunately, lies and lone-wolfing were the best ways to keep her cover, and keep it she must.
Natalie’s car quaked and rumbled as it idled, but at least it was still spitting out heat. December in Colorado was no joke. Although Joy had grown up in Ohio and had lived through her fair share of bitter cold winters, she’d lost much of her immunity to chilly temperatures while living in LA and Santa Barbara over the last few years.
“Which way are you leaning? Staying or going?” Natalie asked.
“I’m not sure. I need to weigh my options, find a permanent place to live. Let me know if you hear of anyone who needs a roommate. I’d love to share the rent with someone.”
“I’ll definitely ask around. We’d hate to lose you at the bakery. I love working with you.”
“That’s so sweet of you to say. I love working with you, too.” Joy nodded eagerly. Those words were the truth. Still, her pulse was starting to thunder in her ears. What if the real owner of this house came outside, wondering what a strange car was doing idling out front? What if they suddenly came home? The thought put her too close to the edge, a place she’d spent the last several months. Someday she would get settled. Someday she wouldn’t have to be a nomad.
“Just so you know, I’m not trying to guilt you into staying. Seems like you’re pretty overqualified to work there.”
“I’m really not overqualified. Pastries and baking are just as much work as French or Italian cuisine.” Those were Joy’s specialties, but if she started talking about food, she’d never get out of the car, and she was already tempting fate by sitting there. Needing to force the issue, she pulled the handle and opened her car door. “I should go. I’m beat from today and you should really get home before the snow gets any worse.”
Natalie leaned across the seat and looked up at Joy. “Do you want me to talk to my brother about helping you with your car? He works cheap if I tell him it’s a favor to me.”
Even cheap is too expensive for me. “It’s nice of you to offer. I’ll let you know. Thanks so much for the ride. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”
Of course, I have no clue how I’m going to get there, but I’ll worry about that later.
“If the bakery stays open in this storm. I’d check in with Bonnie later tonight before you go to bed. She’ll tell you what the contingency plan is based on the forecast.”
“Thanks. I’ll do that.” Joy dawdled on her way to the mailbox, pretending to fumble with her bag, then stood with her hand on the pull, waving at Natalie. As soon as she was out of view, Joy pulled back her hand. Knowing her luck, she’d get saddled with federal mail tampering charges.
Joy waited another moment, standing perfectly still as snow fell all around her, collecting on her shoulders and her nose. As soon as she was certain Natalie was long gone, she doubled back to the end of the street and started her long walk up the hill to the sprawling luxurious mountain estate of her former employers, Harrison and Mariella Marshall. Landing the job as head chef at the Marshalls’ estate in Santa Barbara, California, had been a dream come true. Now she was enduring a bizarre bad dream, one in which her surroundings were still luxe and of the Marshall variety, but the reality was decidedly less shiny.
Harrison Marshall, one of the world’s original celebrity chefs, owned a global culinary empire. Working for him was the ultimate foot in the door when it came to being a chef. Unfortunately, Harrison had been in a near-fatal car accident soon after Joy began working for him. In the aftermath, Harrison’s family unraveled, especially his wife, Mariella. She used Joy as a verbal punching bag, launching unprovoked tirades about things as minor as what type of table salt to use. One day, Mariella pushed too hard, and Joy quit. With little money and zero prospects, she walked away from the best job she’d ever had.
Only empathy from Mariella’s son Rafe had saved her, and it was a temporary fix. He’d given her the keys to the Vail house, saying she was okay to stay until mid-January, when his siblings would likely come to ski. It was such a beautiful home, her stay was a respite, of sorts, but she still needed to work, and the only employment she’d found was at the bakery downtown. It was money and that was all that mattered.
Normally, Joy would be driving her beat-up car home from the bakery at this time of day, rocking forward and back in the driver’s seat and praying it would make it all the way to the top. Not today. The cantankerous piece of junk had decided not to start that morning. This was after she’d just spent the only significant chunk of money she had, nearly six hundred dollars, into fixing it. She would’ve been better off abandoning the car and keeping that money for a deposit on an apartment. The clock was ticking on that front. Mid-January would be here before she knew it.
She’d considered borrowing one of the three cars in the Marshalls’ five-car garage, all of which had to cost more money than she could make in five years. As someone who was supposed to be laying low, driving around town in a showstopper of a vehicle was a recipe for attracting too much attention. She’d attempted to borrow one of the family’s bicycles, but she only made it partway down the icy driveway before nearly wiping out. At that point, out of options and on the verge of being late for a job she absolutely needed, she’d decided to spend her last available cash on a taxi. Hence the ride home from Natalie.
The storm seemed to be gaining momentum now. The fluffy fat flakes from earlier were turning to icy pellets. The wind was blowing like crazy, howling between the trees and rustling snow from the branches in dramatic swirls. With a deluge of frozen precipitation pummeling her face, she had to squint in order to see. Joy tugged her scarf up around her ears and over her mouth. It was hard work to scale the hill, and she was breaking out into a sweat, even in the freezing temperatures. The high down in Vail that day had only been twenty-eight degrees. She got off work from the bakery at 3:00 p.m. each day, and it was nearly five now. The sun had set. The brittle night air grated against her cheeks; it worked its way into her bones. Colorado was beautiful, but Joy wasn’t sure she was cut out for being a snow bunny long-term. She would’ve done anything at that moment for a margarita and a beach.
She dug the toes of her boots into the compacted snow, trudging away, careful to stay as far to the side of the road as possible. So much snow had fallen over the last few weeks that waist-high banks lined both sides of the street. She zipped her jacket up around her face and focused on what was waiting for her when she reached the top. She visualized the unbelievable bed she’d been sleeping in every night, the fluffy king-sized pillowtop in Mariella’s daughter’s room. Climbing in and sinking into that luxurious mattress, swishing her bare feet against the fine sheets, was pure heaven. It was her reward for surviving every day. It was also her safe place, a place where she didn’t allow herself to become mired in negative thoughts or worries about where she would go next or what she was going to do in terms of building a future. Yes, she was living a borrowed life right now, and a clandestinely borrowed one at that, but she had to be thankful for what she had. A roof over her head and a warm place to sleep were at the top of the list of her blessings.
The incline was getting steeper. She hitched her bag up on her shoulder. Her breaths came faster, icy air slicing through her lungs. Everything was freezing—her feet, her thighs, her fingers, and especially her cheeks. She started to shake from the cold. Think of the bed. Think of the bed. Just then a soft glow came from around the bend. Light bounced off the snowbanks and the snow-covered branches of the dense stands of trees all around her. The light became brighter. It swept from side to side. But it was the strangest thing. There was no noise. She’d typically hear a car by now. And then came a recognizable sound—the crunch of tires over snow.
The black car came into view, up at the very top of the hill. She inched closer to the side of the road to be safe. She waved her hand to make sure the driver saw her, and he seemed to, slowly moving to the center of the road. She looked down at her feet for an instant and the next thing she knew, the car was skidding across a patch of ice, drifting closer to the opposite side. She could see his exact trajectory. He was going to go into the ditch. The car turned sharply. An overcorrection. The back end fishtailed. The car slid sideways. The tires crunched against the snow again. The driver had slammed on the brakes. But it kept going. Coming right for her. Run. That was all she could think. But which way? Up seemed like the only answer. Her feet slipped. She fell forward, clawing at the snow with her hands, scrambling out of the way. The headlights blinded her. The car barreled at her. She righted herself and scrambled. Not enough time. She did the only thing she could do. She dove into a snowbank.
Cold shot through her entire body, like a tidal wave fueled by adrenaline. She took a sharp breath, her lungs filled with unbelievable iciness. Her throat tightened. She couldn’t breathe. Snow was everywhere. Like she’d jumped into the deepest part of the ocean and was surrounded by icebergs. She flailed about, all arms and legs, struggling to stand. She couldn’t get a foothold. There was no solid ground. Only snow to breathe and swallow. Did people drown in snowbanks? She was about to find out. Leave it to her to be the first person to accomplish such a feat. As she struggled with her arms, trying to push herself up, something grabbed her leg. Oh God. A bear.
It was full-on panic—flailing, fighting and kicking. She screamed at the top of her lungs and managed to roll to her back. Whatever had her in its clutches was pulling on her now. She dug her hands into the snow, trying to stop her progress, but the beast was too strong for her. She couldn’t fight it off. She was going to get eaten by a bear. Now she wished she was back to drowning in the snow.
With a thump, her butt landed on hard ground. The bear let go. She kicked and screamed. A dark figure loomed over her. It was lit from behind. Wait a minute. If this was a bear, he had very nice shoulders and an awfully nice head of hair.
“Are you okay?” the figure asked, desperately. “Give me your hand.”
Joy was finally able to sit up, but she couldn’t stand. She was still gathering her wits. She stared at the figure. A man. It was a man. Behind him was a car. The car. The lights beamed across the road. The man in the car had pulled her out of the snowbank. It was all starting to come together. He crouched down in front of her, grasping her shoulder.
“Are you okay?” he asked again. “Are you hurt? Can you hear me?”
She wasn’t merely disoriented when her eyes were able to focus and he came into sharper view. For a second she thought she might be dead. Wow. He’s handsome. He’s like a fairy-tale prince. A real one, with thick dark hair that held a perfect wave. His eyes were icy blue. He even had a dimple in his chin.
That was it. She was dead.
The handsome prince dug in his pocket and pulled out a phone. “I’m calling an ambulance. You must be in shock.”
Joy instinctively grabbed his wrist. “No. No. I’m fine.” She took a deep breath and as the air fully filled her lungs, she realized she was not dead. Plus, her hand had landed on firm man. A real man. “I’m so sorry. I just… I didn’t know what to do and it was my first instinct to jump into the snow. I’m sure that seems crazy.”
“Do you think you’re okay to stand up?”
“Probably.” She nodded. As soon as she was on her feet, she saw that she had not been crazy to leap into the snow. The rear end of his car had stopped just shy of the bank. “Wow. I could have been hit.”
“I’m so sorry. I ran into a patch of ice and lost control of the car. Sometimes these precision vehicles do what you want them to and sometimes they don’t.” The handsome prince had a very deep voice, rich and authoritative. He was probably really good at telling people what to do. He was tall. And good God, now that she could see his face in its entirety, she couldn’t help but notice that he was unbearably handsome. He was all high cheekbones and full lips. A strong jaw and brow line. There was nothing soft about him. Everything was defined. He wore a black wool coat and black leather gloves. “Do you mind if I ask what in the world you were doing out here walking alongside the road in the dark?”
Oh yeah. That. “Hiking.”
“Hiking? In those boots?” He pointed at her feet, which were clad in her brown leather boots with the chunky heel. They were surprisingly comfortable and made her butt look damn good in jeans. She didn’t wear them at work though. She donned the chef’s clogs that were currently in her bag for the long hours on her feet.
“Yeah, I know. I guess I’m just a slave to fashion.” She tittered nervously.
He narrowed his focus on her, his eyebrows drawing together so tightly they nearly touched. “Okay. Well, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to finish your hike. Why don’t you let me drive you home?”
Home? Oh no. That would never work. Her home was the Marshalls’ home and absolutely no one was supposed to know she was there. For all she knew, this guy was a friend of the Marshalls. They not only knew a lot of people, most people knew of them. “I’m fine. Really.” She waved him off.
He shook his head. “No way. You are not fine. You should see yourself right now. Your hair and your makeup.” He drew a circle in the air in front of her face. “Plus, I’m not entirely sure you didn’t hit your head. I’m driving you home. If my mother were still alive, she’d be horrified if she found out that I was anything less than a perfect gentleman.”
Oh sure. Bring your dead mother into it. “No, really…”
“No. Really. I insist. Either that or I call an ambulance for you. You’re not walking home.”
Joy blew out a breath and knew it was time to relent. If they got to the top of the hill and he said a peep about the Marshalls, she’d have to come up with a quick excuse. In the meantime, at least with Prince Charming around, she was fairly sure she wasn’t in danger of being arrested. “Okay. Sure. That’d be nice.”
* * *
Alex stepped ahead of the mystery woman and opened the passenger door for her. “I can turn on the heated seat for you in a moment.” He took care when closing the door. He still wasn’t convinced she wasn’t in shock. He was certainly disoriented. One minute he was out for a drive, trying to blow off some work-related steam, and the next thing he knew, his car was sliding down a mountain and he nearly hit a woman. The scene that followed, the epic panic in the snowbank, was like something out of a movie. He could hardly believe what he’d witnessed.
He climbed inside and glanced over at her. She was using the visor mirror to wipe away the smudges of makeup beneath her eyes and smooth her hair.
“I wasn’t trying to say you needed to primp.”
“You were right. I’m a disaster.”
Even though her hair had looked like it had been through a tornado, he couldn’t imagine her ever looking bad. In the soft light coming from the mirror, only in profile, she still stole his breath. She was a classic beauty, like something out of an old Technicolor movie—creamy complexion, lively flush on her cheeks. Her now-tidier hair was long, rolling past her shoulders in gentle waves.
“If this is your version of a disaster, I’d love to see what you look like when you’re going out.”
She turned, sizing him up with her soulful brown eyes.
He reached out his hand. “Seems like introductions are in order. I’m Alex. Well, Alexander if you want the long version. Alexander Townsend.”
She swiped off her fluffy mitten and placed her hand in his. “Nice to meet you, Alexander Townsend, although if this is your way of picking up women, I suggest you get a new technique.”
Alex laughed. Beautiful and witty. It was his lucky day. “And your name?”
She flipped the visor up, tugging her mitten back on. “Joy.”
“Nice to meet you, Joy. Just Joy or is there more to it?”
“Baker.”
“You aren’t a Denver Baker, are you?”
“Excuse me?”
“The Denver Bakers. I’m very good friends with Patrick. He and I both graduated from Columbia the same year.” The look on her face said that she was not a member of the Baker family from Denver. “I’m guessing no?”
She shrugged. “Sorry. I don’t know them.”
“Ah. Well. Thought I’d ask. Where are you from, Joy Baker?”
She cleared her throat. “Santa Barbara.”
“I’m from Chicago. Not nearly as picturesque as coastal California, but it’s home.”
“Sounds nice.”
This conversation didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Probably best to move along. “Where can I take you?”
“Do you know this road well?”
“Clearly, I don’t.”
She pointed up the hill. “It’s at the top. Just drive and I’ll show you.”
He followed her directions, the headlights casting golden beams across the silver snow. That bit of friendly back-and-forth had been pleasant enough, but reality was sinking in. He could have killed her. For all he knew, she was injured. Bleeding internally? Head trauma? All possible. The thought set him doubly on edge. His protective side came out with all women, sometimes to his own detriment. It was a product of his childhood, years of his father mistreating his mother, and Alex having to be the buffer. He had to remind himself that he hardly knew Joy. There was no reason to protect her any more than any other stranger.
But there was reason to worry. With his money, and his family name, he had been the frequent target of unscrupulous people. The most notable of which had been his former fiancée, and although that was a chapter of his life best left closed, it did make him wary of people and their intentions.
“It’s up here. On the left. You can just pull up to the gate and I’ll get out.”
He crested the hill and the vista opened up, almost as if they were perched on top of the world. It was all vast blue-black sky and stars up here; the house Joy had pointed to a showpiece that seemed to go on forever. His shoulders lightened. He had no need to worry about her intentions. Joy, from the look of things, had more than enough of her own resources.
He pulled closer to the gate and rolled down his window. “Code?”
“Oh no. It’s fine. I’ll just get out right here. You can go now.”
Alex didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like he saw himself as God’s gift to women, but he was certainly not accustomed to getting the swift brush-off. Usually, women enjoyed being in his company. And it wasn’t like he’d asked her out. This was a ride up the driveway. “I promise I won’t memorize it. I work in finance, but I’m actually horrible with numbers. Well, small ones at least.” He laughed quietly at his own joke, but she didn’t. Idiot.
“I just… I don’t know that I should let you in.”
He nodded, trying to understand what sort of vibe he was giving off that made her so uneasy. Part of him wanted to tell her that he was the most trustworthy guy imaginable when it came to women, always a perfect gentleman, but what kind of guy says that? Someone who’s the exact opposite, that’s who. The trouble was, he wasn’t entirely certain she was okay after her swan dive into the snowbank. “I don’t want to bring up my mom again, but can’t a guy at least drive you to the door? That driveway has to be at least a five-minute walk. Probably ten in those boots. Which are completely inappropriate for hiking, by the way. I can’t believe you got in a single step before you wiped out.”
“If you’ll stop criticizing my footwear choices, I’ll let you drive me up.”
“Deal.”
“The code is 6274.”
He punched in the numbers and the tall wrought iron gate pulled back behind a towering stone pillar topped with a craftsman light fixture. The car crept ahead, but with this much power under the hood, he was careful not to gun it. The house was impressive as they approached, with tall windows peeking out from under at least a dozen gables, supported by honed timber trusses. The roof was blanketed in snow, the exterior clad in cedar shakes and trim. This gorgeous mountain lodge could likely sleep twenty people comfortably.
“Beautiful home you have here. It reminds me of my place in Switzerland. Of course, the skiing over there is better, but I wanted a quick getaway this Christmas, so my house in Vail seemed like the right choice.”
“Oh. Um. This isn’t my house. It belongs to friends of mine.”
“Who are your friends? Maybe I know them.”
“Uh. The Santiago family? They’re letting me stay here for awhile.” Her voice was a bit shaky and unsure. Maybe she really had been hurt in the fall.
“Hmm. I don’t know them. You’re staying here by yourself?”
“Well, yes. Wanted some time to myself. Life gets crazy.” Joy collected her things and opened her car door. “Thank you, again.” She turned back to him only this time, there was a momentary connection difficult to ignore.
“Of course. It’s the least I can do.” Something about this wasn’t right. “Hey. Is it okay if we exchange numbers? I want you to be able to call me if you aren’t feeling well.”
She pressed her lips together like she was trying to escape a deeply uncomfortable situation. “How about I just take your number?”
Fair enough. “Sure thing.” He rattled off the digits and she put it into her phone, or at least he thought she did.
With that, she climbed out, closed her door, and scaled the grand sweep of stone stairs leading up to the front porch. Joy was tall, her legs long and lithe, but she looked tiny compared to the massive wood double door. She keyed her way in and as soon as she disappeared inside, he put the car into Reverse and backed up. Her sweet fragrance lingered—an aroma like spun sugar. It’d been months since he’d been on a date with a woman, and even just a few minutes with Joy was going to haunt him. He had a sense she was holding back or hiding something.
Hopefully, it wasn’t that she’d been hurt in the accident.
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by Karen Booth
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