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Praise for Sarah Morgan
‘Sarah Morgan puts the magic in Christmas!’
—Now magazine
‘Full of romance and sparkle’
—Lovereading
‘Morgan is a magician with words.’
—RT Book Reviews
‘Sarah Morgan continues to hang out on my autobuy list and each book of hers that I discover is a treat.’
—Smart Bitches, Trashy Books
‘Morgan’s brilliant talent never ceases to amaze.’
—RT Book Reviews
‘Dear Ms Morgan, I’m always on the lookout for a new book by you…’
—Dear Author
‘Definitely looking forward to more from Sarah Morgan’
—Smexy Books
As a child SARAH MORGAN dreamed of being a writer and, although she took a few interesting detours on the way, she is now living that dream. With her writing career she has successfully combined business with pleasure and she firmly believes that reading romance is one of the most satisfying and fat-free escapist pleasures available. Her stories are unashamedly optimistic and she is always pleased when she receives letters from readers saying that her books have helped them through hard times.
Sarah lives near London with her husband and two children, who innocently provide an endless supply of authentic dialogue. When she isn’t writing or reading Sarah enjoys music, movies and any activity that takes her outdoors.
Readers can find out more about Sarah and her books on her author page at www.millsandboon.com/sarahmorgan. She can also be found on Facebook and Twitter.
For my family, with love
Dear Reader,
Last Christmas my family and I decided to break with our usual holiday tradition. Instead of staying at home, we rented a log cabin in a forest near a lake. We spent our days crunching through fresh snow and our evenings curled up by a blazing log fire.
We took Christmas with us on that holiday (yes, even the turkey and don’t ever ask me about the tree…), but it occurred to me that it would be the perfect place to go if someone wanted to escape all the festivities.
There was plenty of time for dreaming and it was while I was curled up by that flickering fire watching big fat snowflakes drift past the window and trying to thaw my numb toes, that I came up with the idea for Sleigh Bells in the Snow.
My heroine Kayla hates Christmas and plans to avoid it altogether, so when she’s asked to spend a week in a log cabin in snowy Vermont as part of her job she couldn’t be happier. Jackson O’Neil is trying to save the family business, Snow Crystal Resort, and thinks public relations expert Kayla is the woman to help him.
She arrives at Snow Crystal expecting to escape Christmas, only to find herself sucked deep into the very thing she is trying to avoid. Family. And as if that isn’t bad enough, Kayla discovers Jackson doesn’t fit any of the traditional business stereotypes. Soon she’s chopping logs with Grandpa, baking with Grandma and trying not to fall in love.
Jackson has so many hero qualities. He is one of life’s tough guys—calm in a crisis, with shoulders broad enough to take whatever pressures come his way. Everyone leans on him. I fell in love with him right away. My heroine Kayla took a little longer, but life has taught her to be guarded.
Christmas is a time for giving, but the one thing Kayla cannot give is her heart. Or can she?
I hope you enjoy Kayla’s story and however you spend your time over the holidays, I wish you health and happiness.
Sarah
xx
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First, a huge thank-you to my readers who continue to buy my books thereby giving me the opportunity to write more.
Special thanks to my brilliant and talented editor, Flo Nicoll, for her enthusiasm and insight. Working together on this book has been more fun than anyone has a right to expect from a job.
I’m grateful to my agent, Susan Ginsburg of Writers House, for her wise advice, and to the fantastic team at HQN and Harlequin UK for their support and hard work.
Without Kimberly Young and Lucy Gilmour I doubt my career would have reached this point. I owe them both a great deal.
Particular thanks to Dianne Moggy for her encouragement and for allowing me to use real-life Maple as fictional Maple in this story. All errors my own.
Love and thanks to Laura Reeth for her friendship, support and astute observations on life.
All writers need writer friends. I am fortunate to have more than I can mention here—you know who you are!—but I am particularly indebted to Carol Marinelli and Nicola Cornick.
Writers also need nonwriter friends. Love and thanks to Sue, who has been there through thick and thin and occasionally forces me to talk about real people as well as fictional ones.
I am fortunate to have a wonderful family. Love to my parents and also to my fantastic children for the hugs and laughs and for never complaining when I’m on a deadline and make them eat pizza.
Finally, love and thanks to my husband for proving that romance can happen outside the pages of a book. I am grateful to him for teaching me to ski and for patiently picking me up when I landed on my face, thus providing me with plenty of material for this story!
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Cover
Praise for Sarah Morgan
About the Author
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Extract
Endpage
Copyright
KAYLA GREEN CRANKED up the volume on her favorite playlist and blocked out the sound of festive music and laughter wafting under her closed office door.
Was she the only person who hated this time of year?
Surely there had to be someone out there who felt the way she did?
Someone who didn’t expect Christmas to be merry or bright?
Someone who knew mistletoe was poisonous?
She watched gloomily as soft snowflakes drifted lazily past the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that made up two sides of her spacious corner office. She hadn’t been dreaming of a white Christmas but it seemed she was getting one anyway.
Far below, the streets of Manhattan were jammed with tourists keen to enjoy the festive sights of New York in the holiday season. A giant spruce twinkled in front of the Rockefeller Centre, and the Hudson River glinted in the distance, a ribbon of silvery-gray shimmering in the winter light.
Turning her back on the snow, the tree and the glittering skyscrapers of Midtown, Kayla focused on her computer screen.
A moment later the door opened and Tony, her opposite number in Entertainment and Sports, appeared carrying two glasses of champagne.
She unhooked her headphones. “Who the hell is picking the music out there?”
“You don’t like the music?” The top button of his shirt was undone and the glitter in his eyes suggested this wasn’t his first glass of champagne. “Is that why you’re hiding in your office?”
“I’m searching for inner peace but I’d settle for outer peace so if you could close the door on your way out, that would be perfect.”
“Come on, Kayla. We’re celebrating our best year ever. It’s a British tradition to get drunk, sing terrible karaoke and flirt with your colleagues.”
“Who told you that?”
“I watched Bridget Jones’s Diary.”
“Right.” The music made her head throb. It was always the same at this time of year. The tight panicky feeling in her stomach. The ache in her chest that didn’t ease until December 26th. “Tony, did you want something? Because I’d like to keep working.”
“It’s our office party. You cannot work late tonight.”
As far as she was concerned it was the perfect night to work late.
“Have you seen A Christmas Carol? Or read the book?”
A glass of champagne appeared on the desk in front of her. “I’m guessing you’re not Tiny Tim in this scenario, so that makes you either Scrooge or one of the ghosts.”
“I’m Scrooge, but without the tasteless nightwear.” Ignoring the champagne, Kayla glanced through the doorway. “Is Melinda out there?”
“Last seen charming the CEO of Adventure Travel who has been looking for you all evening so he can thank you personally for the incredible year their company has enjoyed. Bookings are up two hundred percent since you took over their account. Not only that, you got his picture on the cover of Time magazine.” He raised his glass and his mouth twisted into a smile. “Until you arrived in New York, I was the golden boy. Brett used to give me tips on how to be the one on top. I was all set to be the youngest vice president this firm has ever appointed.”
Alarm bells rang in her head. “Tony—”
“Now it’s likely that accolade will go to you.”
“You’re still the golden boy. We work in separate divisions. Could we talk about this tomorrow?” Kayla delved into her bag for a report, wishing she could push herself inside and snap it shut until January. “I’m really busy.”
“Too busy to nurse my ego a little bit?”
She eyed the champagne. “I’ve always believed people should be responsible for their own egos.”
He gave a low laugh. “Coming from anyone else I’d assume there was innuendo in there, but you don’t do innuendo, do you? You don’t have time for it. Just like you don’t have time for parties or dinner or drinks on the way home after work. You don’t have time for anything except work. For Kayla Green, associate vice president of Tourism and Hospitality, it’s all about the next piece of business. Do you realize there’s a bet going in the office as to whether you sleep with your phone?”
“Of course I sleep with my phone. Don’t you?”
“No. Sometimes I sleep with a human, Kayla. A hot, naked woman. Sometimes I forget about work and indulge in a night of really incredible sex.” His eyes were on hers, his message unmistakable and Kayla wished she’d locked her office door.
“Tony—”
“I’m probably about to make a giant fool of myself, but—”
“Please don’t.” Deciding she might need both hands, Kayla gave up looking for the file. “Go back to the party.”
“You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever met.”
Oh, shit.
“Tony—”
“When you transferred here from London straight into the AVP role, I admit I was ready to hate you, but you charmed us all with your cute British ways and you charmed Brett with your killer business instinct.” He leaned forward. “And you charmed me.”
Kayla eyed the glass in his hand. “How many of those have you had?”
“The other day I was watching you in the boardroom presenting to your client. You never stand still.”
“I think better when I walk around.”
“Yeah, you walk around in that tight little pencil skirt that shows off your ass and those skyscraper heels that show off miles of leg, and all the time you were walking I was thinking, ‘Kayla Green has the sharpest mind in the business, but she also has a great pair of legs—’”
“Tony—”
“‘—and not only does she have a great pair of legs, she also amazing green eyes that can kill a man from a thousand paces.’”
She stared hard at him and then shook her head. “Nope. Not working. You’re still alive, so that’s something else you’re wrong about. Now go back to the party.”
“Let’s get out of here, Green. My place. Just you, me and my super big bed.”
“Tony—” She tried to inject just the right tone into her voice. Firm, professional and absolutely not interested. “I understand how much courage it took for you to be honest about your feelings, and I’m going to be equally candid.” Well, not quite, but as close to candid as she ever came. “Quite apart from the fact I would never get personal with a colleague because it would be unprofessional, I’m totally rubbish at relationships.”
“You couldn’t be rubbish at anything. I heard Brett telling a client this week that you’re a superstar.” An edge of bitterness crept into his voice and she sighed.
“Is that what this is about? Competition? Because honestly, when Brett was giving you tips on how to be on top, I don’t think he meant you to take it quite so literally.”
“Hot, dirty sex, Kayla, and just for tonight.” He raised his glass. “Tomorrow doesn’t exist.”
As far as she was concerned tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. “Good night, Tony.”
“I would make you forget your emails.”
“No man has ever made me forget my emails.” Contemplating that depressing fact did nothing to improve her mood. “You are drunk and you are going to regret this in the morning.”
He sat down on her desk, flattening a stack of invoices awaiting her signature. “I thought I worked hard and then I met you. Kayla Green, public relations genius who never puts a foot wrong.”
She tugged at the invoices. “My foot will be in your butt if you don’t get off my invoices.”
“Butt? I thought you British called it an arse.”
“Butt, arse—call it whatever you like, just get it off my desk. Now go home before you say something you shouldn’t to someone important.” About to stand up and eject him physically, she was relieved when her office door opened and Stacy, her PA, walked in.
Her gaze fixed on the empty glass in Tony’s hand. “Ah, Tony—Brett is looking for you. New business opportunity. He says you’re the man to handle it.”
“Really? In that case—” Tony scooped up Kayla’s untouched glass and strolled toward the door “—nothing stands in the way of business, does it? Certainly not pleasure.”
Stacy watched him go, eyebrows raised. “What’s got into him?”
“Two bottles of champagne got into him.” Kayla dropped her head into her hands and stared blankly at the screen. “Was Brett really looking for him?”
“No, but you looked as if you were about to punch him, and I didn’t want you to spend Christmas in custody. I’ve heard the food is terrible.”
“You are one in a million and you’re in line for a fat bonus.”
“You already gave me a fat bonus. I treated myself to this top.” Stacy twirled like a ballerina and black sequins gleamed under the lights. “What do you think?”
“Love it. Just don’t stand too near Tentacle Tony.”
“I think he’s cute.” Stacy blushed. “Sorry. Too much information.”
“You think he’s hot?” Kayla stared at the door where Tony had exited a few moments earlier and wondered what was wrong with her. “Seriously?”
“Everyone does. Everyone except you, obviously, but that’s because you work too hard to notice. Why don’t you come and join the party?”
“Everyone will be chatting about the holidays. I’m fine talking about work but I’m useless with kids, pets and grandmas.”
“Talking of work, we have a potential new business lead. The guy is coming in tomorrow to brief us. Brett wants you in on that meeting.”
Relieved the topic had shifted, Kayla perked up. “What guy?”
“Jackson O’Neil.”
“Jackson O’Neil.” She filed through her brain. “CEO of Snowdrift Leisure. They own a handful of luxury hotels specializing in winter sports. Mostly European based. Zermatt, Klosters, Chamonix. Impressive track record. Very successful. What about him?”
Stacy gaped at her. “How do you know all this stuff?”
“It’s what I do when other people have a social life.” Kayla typed Jackson O’Neil into the search engine. “Do they want us to work with them? I can talk to someone in the London office.”
“It isn’t the European business. And it isn’t Snowdrift Leisure. He took a backseat in the company eighteen months ago so he could move back to the U.S. and focus on the family business.”
“Really? How did I miss that?” Kayla looked at the photographs that came up on her screen. Jackson O’Neil was at least two decades younger than she’d imagined him to be. Instead of the usual corporate head and shoulders shot, there was a photograph of him skiing down what looked like a vertical slope. Her head spun as she looked at the gradient. “Is that Photoshop?”
Stacy peered over her shoulder and made an appreciative sound. “That man is seriously hot. I bet he drinks vodka martinis, shaken not stirred. It’s not Photoshop. All three O’Neil brothers are skiers. Tyler O’Neil was on the U.S. ski team until he injured himself. They’re always flinging themselves off some cliff or other.”
“So I’d probably better not mention I feel dizzy at the top of the Empire State Building.” Kayla clicked off The picture. “Snowdrift Leisure is a fast-growing, successful company. Why isn’t he focusing on that?”
“Family. The O’Neil family owns the Snow Crystal Resort and Spa in Vermont.”
Family. The most destructive force known to man. “Never heard of it.”
“I guess that’s why he’s contacted us for help.”
“If he’d wanted to run the family business, why didn’t he do that straight off instead of setting up his own company?” She clicked through the Snow Crystal website, looking at images. A large Alpine-style hotel and log cabins nestling in a forest. A couple, smiling adoringly in the back of a horse-drawn sleigh. Laughing families skating on a frozen pond. She quickly returned to the images of the cabins. “Maybe he’s a guy who prefers a challenge.”
“No doubt he’ll tell you why when you meet. He asked for you. He saw what you did for Adventure Travel.”
Kayla stared at the log cabins, and thought how peaceful they looked. “Are they putting the business out to pitch?”
“Brett thinks if you can impress Jackson O’Neil tomorrow, the business is ours.”
“Then we’d better make sure we impress him.”
“I’m sure you will.” Stacy hesitated. “Have you ever skied?”
“Not exactly. I mean, I’ve never actually worn a pair of skis as such, but I skidded on the snow outside Bloomingdales last week. I felt as if my gut was going to come up through my mouth. Skiing must give you a similar feeling.”
Stacy laughed. “My parents took me to Vermont when I was little. All I remember was ice. Even the trees were frozen.”
“That’s perfect because I love ice.”
“You do?”
“Absolutely. Ideally I prefer it crushed in a margarita or carved into a swan as a centerpiece on a buffet table, but I can go with it under my feet if I have to. I’ll be fine, Stacy. I’m helping them promote the company, not going on holiday there. When I worked on that African Safari account, did I have to hug a lion? No, I did not.” Kayla felt the familiar buzz that always came when facing a new business opportunity. Her fears of the dreaded Christmas period were soothed by the knowledge she now had a legitimate reason to bury herself in work. She’d get through it, as she always did, and no one would be any the wiser. “Be an angel and dig up as much information as you can on Snow Crystal and the O’Neil family, particularly Jackson. I want to know why he took a backseat in his highly successful business to return home and run a place I can’t even find on a map.”
“I’ll have it for you first thing tomorrow.” Brisk and efficient, Stacy made a note in her book. “Maybe you should take a break, Kayla. You’re forgetting it’s Christmas!”
“I’m not forgetting.”
She’d been trying to forget for a decade and a half. There was no forgetting.
Whenever she left her apartment or her office she walked with her head down, avoiding glimpses of glittering window displays and twinkly lights, but nothing helped.
Stacy tidied the stack of invoices. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind and join our team trip to see Santa?”
It felt as if someone were sawing through her stomach.
Dragging open her drawer, Kayla pulled out indigestion tablets and swallowed two. She wondered whether taking the lot would put her out until after Christmas. “Can’t, sorry, but I appreciate the invitation.”
“There will be Christmas trees, elves—”
“Oh, God, poor you.”
“Why poor me? I love Christmas.” Stacy shot her a puzzled look. “Don’t you?”
“I adore Christmas. I’m totally gutted I can’t make it. I meant poor me, not poor you.” The effort of smiling was making her jaw ache. “Think of me while you’re mingling with elves.”
“Maybe you should come anyway and talk to Santa. You can give him your Christmas list. Dear Santa, please give me the Snow Crystal account together with a massive budget, and, while you’re at it, I’ll have Jackson O’Neil naked. Hold the gift wrap.”
The only thing she wanted for Christmas was for it to be over as fast as possible.
Memories hit her with a thump, and Kayla stood up abruptly and paced to the window. All around her were reminders of Christmas, so she paced back to her desk and sat down again, vowing to book a cruise to Antarctica next year. Whale watching. Whales didn’t celebrate Christmas, did they?
The phone on her desk rang and she breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness.
Stacy snapped into professional mode and reached across the desk, but Kayla stopped her.
“I’ll get it. I’m expecting a call from the CEO of Extreme Explore. I’d rather the man wasn’t deafened by the sounds of sleigh bells, or jingle bells, or whatever bells are ringing out there, so it would be great if you went back to the party and closed the door behind you. Thanks, Stacy. If anyone asks, you haven’t seen me.” Waiting until she closed the door, Kayla whimpered and leaned forward, banging her head on the desk. “Christmas. Crappy, miserable, horrible Christmas. Please be over quickly this year otherwise I’m going to need every last shard of ice in Vermont to chill all the alcohol I intend to drink.” Pulling in a deep breath she sat up, raked her hair away from her face and picked up the phone. “Oliver?” Afraid he might hear her desperation, she pinned the smile back on her face, thankful it wasn’t a video conference. “It’s Kayla. Great to speak to you. How’s it going? I read through your business plans for next year. Exciting!”
This, she thought, this she could do.
No Christmas. No Santa. No memories.
Just her job.
If she kept her head down and focused on winning the O’Neil account, it would eventually all be over.
“WHAT THE HELL kind of nonsense is this?” Eighty years old, but with all the energy of a man half his age, Walter O’Neil thumped his fist on the kitchen table while his grandson Jackson lounged in his chair, biting his tongue and reining in his temper.