Okay here you are, blurb first:
Financial adviser Kit Poindexter has been trained to recognize only monetary success. So when she needs a million dollars to rescue her late father’s near-bankrupt company, she decides a real estate deal for her new employer in Tucson, Arizona, might get her there.
Saving her from a sudden blizzard in the White Mountains, gorgeous hunk Bret McClintock creates an unwelcome distraction””a very tempting one””for a no-nonsense woman like Kit. Then she learns Bret’s not the blue-collar guy she’d assumed, but a professor at the university with a PhD, studying Native Americans”“on the very land her employer hopes to acquire in order to develop the pricey resort that will eventually earn her the million dollars she needs.
Suddenly, Kit’s clear-cut goals tumble into a heap of jackstraws””from which she cannot extract even one without the whole stack collapsing. Instead of the winning deal she expected, she is about to lose everything, both old goals and new.
But will Kit’s ultimate deal be for her first million””or for love?
Excerpt: this is fairly early in the book and sets the stage, to a degree…
Kit came awake slowly, loathe to leave the warmth of sleep, the comfort of a pleasant dream in which she snuggled in the arms of a man, the perfect man she’d never had time to look for. His masculine strength and heat surrounded her, protective yet not restricting… She jerked upright, shoving aside the restraining flap of a down-filled sleeping bag in the process.
“What the hell’s wrong? You’re letting the warmth out. Get back here before we both freeze.”
The surly words were not part of her dream. This voice didn’t murmur sweet assurances or tender phrases of tribute, but it was a masculine voice with a pleasant western drawl. Panic briefly arrested, Kit turned, peering down at her companion by the uncertain light of smoldering logs, flickering dimly in the massive fireplace to her right.
“Where am I and why am I in my underwear? What are you doing in my bed with me?”
“This is my bedding, Boston. My grandpa gave me this sleeping bag in 1998 when I joined the Boy Scouts.”
Kit refused to be mollified. She wanted to hit something, to jump up and get the blazes out of here, to scream for help–none of which were feasible. From the looks of things, she was totally alone with this stranger in a place she’d never seen before. She wanted answers and she wanted them five minutes ago. “Who are you and how did I get here?”
“My name is Bret, and I carried you in here. Now lie down and pull up the damned bag, okay? You aren’t in any danger except from the cold.”
Kit still couldn’t make out the man’s face, but his voice sounded gruff, unfriendly.
He probably isn’t bent on rape or he’d already have done it. Anyway, I’m getting cold again–fast. She scooted into the warm cocoon of the bag, drawing the edge up over her bare shoulders. She didn’t want to touch him, but she had to until she turned on her side and scrunched away as far as she could. Then she touched the zipper, which felt like a long narrow ice cube.
“So you say you rescued me?”
“You got stuck in the snow yesterday evening, remember? I came along and brought you here to this cabin. You were getting hypothermic, so I did the best I could–rolled out this sleeping bag and got in with you. Works best if everyone’s nude, but I figured I could leave our skivvies on.”
“Oh God.” Kit remembered, all right. She almost wished she hadn’t. She didn’t want to think about how he’d undressed her while she was unconscious. All she needed to do was figure out how to extract herself from the current situation and get to the lodge. “Has the snow stopped yet?”
“I doubt it. Storms like this usually lasts at least twenty-four hours. I don’t intend to look either because that would mean opening the door and letting more cold in. But I’d better put some more wood on the fire.” As he spoke, he began to move, wiggling backward until he could sit up without dislodging the bag from around Kit’s shoulders.
Even in the dim firelight, she saw his chest was bare. He scooted a little farther. She knew she should look away, but she couldn’t. He wore briefs, and that’s what they were, brief. A very minimal patch of navy blue in the strategic area, nothing more.
Oh for goodness sake! Cowboys and outdoorsmen are supposed to wear woolly red union suits that cover them from neck to ankles, not some thong, like a dancer in a male strip club! Still, he does look delicious. With that thought, Kit no longer felt cold.
He stood in a single, smooth motion and stepped out of sight behind her head. A moment later, he reappeared, crouching inches from her, and began to stack an armload of logs in the fireplace. Bending forward, his elegant nearly-bare tush almost in her face, he blew into the coals until the flames jumped to begin their greedy work on the new fuel. He sat back on his haunches for a moment, then gave a self-satisfied grunt. Crawling around behind Kit’s head, he wormed into the sleeping bag.
Kit stiffened and held still. It was difficult, but she tried to banish the image of his beautiful, tanned body, to ignore the touches of his warm flesh against hers.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” She ground out the question through gritted teeth.
“Prob’ly about three or four in the morning. Go back to sleep. We can’t do a thing until daybreak, anyway.” Moments later, he began to snore.
Every nerve hummed and tingled. She stared into the flickering flames, but that only made her feel hotter, itchier, and more out-of-sorts. She had never been more aware of anyone than she was of the sleeping man behind her. All the while, he slept on, snoring in contented peace. There was no justice in the world, none at all! She should be tucked into a comfy bed at Sunrise Lodge, anticipating a gorgeous day on the slopes. Instead, she lay on a hard floor, with only the inadequate padding of half a sleeping bag between her and what felt like stone. She couldn’t turn over because that would leave her face to face with…a gorgeous man who snored.
He shifted, edging closer, until his hairy, muscular legs pressed against hers. She couldn’t move away. There was nowhere to go. Now, she felt his chest against her back. Its furring of coppery hair, just on the soft side of prickly, brushed her. Her sensitized skin tried to ripple like a horse’s hide shaking off flies, with even less effect.
“Damn it, I’m not cold anymore. Give me some room!” Though her sharp whisper sounded thunderously loud in the silence, he didn’t stir. The snores changed rhythm, but there was no movement to prove he’d heard her. Kit didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. What a dilemma. Any one of her friends, finding themselves in bed with such a hunk, would make the most of the opportunity. Trouble was, she didn’t know how to proceed. Especially since the man seemed completely unaffected by her proximity. Even if she wanted to make the first move, to let him know she was definitely interested, what should that first move be?
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