Once Upon a Lumberjack Read online

  She shrugged. That had been the plan. But now she felt a little guilty hearing him say it aloud like that.

  “I shouldn’t have kissed you like that,” he said. “I didn’t mean to take advantage.”

  She shook her head emphatically. “You didn’t. I wanted you to kiss me.”

  Oof. Were her cheeks on fire? They felt like they were on fire.

  “I’m still sorry.”

  Her heart melted instantly and stupidly. But really, he looked so freakin’ sincere. She shoved the emotions aside and tried for humor. “Don’t apologize. That kiss was…” She swallowed the rest of that sentence, mildly afraid that if she started waxing poetic on the magic that was his kiss, she’d never stop.

  Instead she flashed him a quick grin. “I’m just too good of a saleswoman. I was hoping you’d kiss me and I tend to get what I want.” She lowered her voice as if letting him in on a secret. “You didn’t stand a chance.”

  He didn’t laugh. His eyes met hers and he was frighteningly serious. “I don’t want you to have any regrets.”

  That was it. She was done for. Thank goodness she’d never see him again because his sincerity slayed her.

  “I won’t regret this kiss.”

  If anything. She suspected she’d be reliving this entire evening for years to come. Was that pathetic?

  Possibly.

  Maybe it was time to revisit the long-term plan.

  “Can I see you to your room?” he asked.

  She didn’t even try to hide her sigh. Seriously. This guy should come with a white hat and horse. Maybe even one of those long shiny swords that Prince Charming wore.

  “Thanks,” she said as she came to her feet, regret filling her instantly as she took one last glance at the man who’d seemingly stepped straight out of her dreams. “But I should probably say goodnight here.”

  To draw this out any longer would just be torture.

  He smiled at her where she hovered in the doorway. “Goodnight, not-Rhonda. And sweet dreams.”

  Sweet dreams? She bit her lip. Undoubtedly. And she had a feeling this man right here would be the starring role. She backed up a step and took one last look at the man who was too good to be true. “Goodnight, not-Steve.”

  Two

  He hadn’t lied, exactly.

  That excuse sounded lame even in Bryce’s head but he shoved it to the side as he strode down the halls of his lodge toward his office. He’d only gotten a couple hours of sleep after his enchanting evening with his dream woman, but he didn’t regret a thing.

  He’d always been an early riser and he had calls to make and people to meet before the sun would rise, and one night without much sleep wouldn’t kill him.

  Besides, it had been worth it.

  A dopey grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he fought it. He didn’t need his employees wondering why their boss was walking around like a kid on Christmas morning before dawn.

  But he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about his little pixie from the night before. Or obsessing over her, really.

  He’d tell her everything over breakfast.

  That thought settled some of the guilt that had been eating at him for hours. He’d tell her who he was and then he’d have nothing to feel guilty about. The sooner the better so she didn’t find out from anyone else.

  Maybe he’d bring breakfast to her room so they could talk in private over a cup of coffee. And then they could revisit her whole “I’ll never see you again” pronouncement.

  Worry niggled at him whenever he thought about that, but he pushed it to the side. She hadn’t had all the facts when she’d said it, that was all. Once he explained that he had a place in New York, surely they could work something out.

  He leaned back in his office chair, lost in a memory of the sweet dreamy look on her face just before she’d walked away. Then he winced. She’d called him Not-Steve. While it had started as a joke, he was kicking himself today for never finding the right moment to clear the air.

  It was just…he’d been having so much fun. She’d been so funny and genuine and quirky. And she’d been so open with him, something he’d feared she’d stop if she knew who he really was.

  The sound of people moving about in the halls brought him back to his senses. He had more work to do before going out to greet his guests. Guilt had him shifting uncomfortably in his desk chair as he sorted through his email and phone messages. The head of the CRBO board would be expecting to hear from him. They’d been putting the pressure on to get him to buy into the company, which, according to his most trusted finance guy, was floundering.

  That was part of the reason he’d invited the executive committee here this weekend. It was a business move, although he was still highly doubtful that he’d pursue it. He’d never had much of an interest in cable news, and the guests he’d talked to when he’d arrived yesterday afternoon hadn’t done much to convince him.

  Now if Not-Rhonda had tried to convince him…

  Ugh, he hated that he didn’t even know her name. But he’d find out soon enough. And if she wanted to sell him the company, he had no doubt she could.

  It doesn’t matter what I’m selling. I can sell anything. He found himself grinning into space like an idiot at the memory of her confident statement.

  She’d said she hadn’t known why she could sell anything to anyone…but he did. She was so dang charismatic—she was intelligent and witty, with just enough self-deprecating humor to ensure she didn’t come across as arrogant. On top of that, she had a…something. He’d never been great with words. Big ideas, he could do. Strategic planning, managing at a large scale—all things he could do. But putting a concept as great as Not-Rhonda’s charm into words? Not his forte.

  He supposed the closest he could come was her joie de vivre. She had an energy, a liveliness, a zeal that was impossible to quantify or qualify, but that she exuded as surely as she had blonde hair and an adorable button nose.

  Man, she was cute. Adorable and attractive in a way that was so perfectly her, from that mop of out-of-control curls to the short and curvy body.

  A knock on his door brought him back to his senses. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d lost so much valuable time daydreaming but for the past hour he’d gotten less work done than he typically got done in twenty minutes.

  “Come in,” he called.

  Darren walked in, impeccably dressed in a suit and looking like he’d been hard at work for several hours. He probably had been. As his right-hand man, Darren was the numbers guy. While Bryce was good with numbers, Darren was a genius.

  Darren also shared Not-Rhonda’s distaste for the wilderness. He was far happier working out of their Manhattan office. But Bryce had insisted that he come along since he knew the CRBO higher-ups would want to hold discussions about a possible buyout. Not that this was public knowledge. Only the highest-level executives knew it was a possibility—and a far-off one at that, he reminded himself when a flicker of guilt had him tapping his fingers on his desk in an unusual display of discomfort.

  Darren’s eyes went to his hand, catching the gesture and eyeing him with far too much intelligence.

  Sometimes it sucked to be surrounded by people who were so perceptive. This was one of those times.

  “Is everything all right?” Darren asked quietly.

  “Of course.” Bryce leaned back in his chair. “Did you finish reviewing the proposal?”

  Darren took that as his cue to walk forward, presenting a file for him to look over. “The numbers check out. You could afford the buyout, if it’s of interest to you.” Darren finished speaking but his tone cut off oddly, as if there was more he was going to say. He didn’t have to say it, though. Bryce already knew.

  If it’s of interest to you…but it’s not. They both knew it.

  Darren had been by his side long enough to know what steered Bryce—his gut. He’d been fortunate enough to inherit the company that his father had built, and under his control it had grown expon
entially. Not because he was a financial genius or because he used shady tactics, but because he followed his instincts. They’d never steered him wrong.

  If he had a hunch about a technology company or had a vision for a floundering manufacturing operation, he saw it through.

  He always succeeded.

  He grinned at the memory of her sweet voice. I’m not bragging. It’s just the truth.

  He’d never had much interest in television before but he always considered it a good possibility. He was still on the fence with this one, even after meeting with the top executives. Still, his little meet-and-greet with the executive team couldn’t be put off much longer, they’d descend on him like hounds over breakfast.

  He just needed to make sure he got to talk to Not-Rhonda first.

  “Are you all right?” Darren asked. “You look… not like yourself.”

  Bryce shot a look at his long-time colleague, who was showing an unusual display of tact. “Not myself, huh?”

  Darren dropped the tact. “You look constipated.”

  Bryce let out a huff of a laugh at what was most likely an accurate description. “I’ve got to break some news to someone and I’m not quite sure how to do it.”

  Darren made an ah sound and started backing away toward the door, wisely and accurately assuming that he wasn’t asking Darren for advice on that particular topic. Where Darren excelled with numbers, he failed spectacularly in social interactions. For the sake of all negotiations and business relationships, Darren stayed in the background.

  Bryce was the one who charmed and schmoozed his way through the shark-infested corporate world. Pushing his chair away from the desk, Bryce came to a stand. If anyone could handle this conversation gracefully, surely it was him.

  With renewed confidence, he called out to Darren just before his employee disappeared from view. “Ask the cook to make me a special platter, would you? Her best pastries and coffee for two.”

  Darren’s brows hitched up the tiniest bit but he didn’t respond, and he didn’t ask questions. He just gave a short nod and went off to do as he was bid.

  Bryce stared at the door Darren closed behind him, trying to get his thoughts in order for this impromptu breakfast room service, which would also serve as his confessional.

  But in his defense, he hadn’t set out to dupe anyone. Heck, he hadn’t even set out to meet anyone. He’d just wanted a drink to drown his sorrows. Well, sorrows was a little strong. It wasn’t like he’d been suffering a great heartache after breaking things off with Miranda.

  They hadn’t been dating long enough for it to be too painful, but it had still stung.

  He scowled down at the desk, where his notes and messages were scattered. It wasn’t every day he found out he was being cheated on, whether it was with a new girlfriend or not. He supposed, if he was being honest, it was his pride that had been wounded more than anything.

  Still, he’d gone down to the bar for a nightcap to try to soothe his wounded ego, but then…there she was. Waltzing in with that adorable, quizzical smile and informing him he was not Steve.

  He’d realized in a heartbeat that she didn’t recognize him. For the first time in a long time, he was just a guy. A lonely, hurting guy who found himself chatting with a woman who made him laugh.

  She also made him feel alive like no woman had before. The effect had been mesmerizing. Captivating. Nearly overwhelming, really. He’d felt like a teenager again, all raging hormones and zero game.

  He headed toward the door. But not today. This morning he was back to himself—in control and with a plan. He’d pick up her tray, bring it to her room, and talk to her. And then, once he got that out of the way, he’d kiss her again.

  He grinned at the thought. One kiss had definitely not been enough. Just like one evening together was only the start.

  He just had to make sure she knew that.

  He heard some boisterous male voices from the main hall—every group he hosted had their early birds, and Bryce resented the heck out of them for encroaching on his key business hours in the wee hours of the morning.

  He cringed at the sound of a man’s falsely enthusiastic laugh. He supposed after he talked to his little pixie, he’d have to deal with these executives and explain that he wasn’t ready to invest in their company. There was nothing wrong with the plan, but nothing in his gut told him he needed it either. He’d wait for an opportunity that was right.

  Or at least, he’d wait until his gut made itself clear. It had been oddly quiet this morning, leaving him feeling more wishy-washy than he could ever remember.

  It had to be because of the way he’d let her walk away last night without knowing the whole truth. It was guilt that was interfering with his business sense.

  But once he fed her, once he kissed her again, once he explained the true nature of his feelings for her—

  “Bryce!” a male voice he didn’t recognize startled him out of his thoughts.

  His head shot up and he realized with a jolt that two of his guests had wandered into the hallway, intercepting him on his way to the kitchen.

  Crap. He just wanted to woo his girl with croissants—was that too much to ask?

  One of the men—Gary, he thought his name was—gave him a blinding grin as he took another step toward them. In an overly friendly tone, Gary reached out and shook his hand while slapping his other arm in a weird bro-hug.

  Brown-noser.

  “You’re a morning person too, eh?” Gary asked, like they were members of an exclusive club.

  Before he could respond, he was being ushered into the room where the other “morning people” had gathered, most likely to drink their coffee before breakfast was set out. He made the polite greetings and gently tried to extricate himself from Gary’s surprisingly fierce grip. “I’ll join you for breakfast, but first I’ve got to—”

  His eyes landed on his pixie from the night before and he was struck dumb. She was even more beautiful in the morning light.

  She was also clearly angry.

  Royally furious, to be exact.

  She was frowning at him with such force it looked painful. It wasn’t a glare so much as a death stare.

  Her glare gave new meaning to that phrase ‘if looks could kill’.

  He dimly noted that she was also clearly a morning person. She must have gotten up shortly after he had in order to look the way she did. Like she’d showered, put on makeup, and even had time to blow out those curls of hers so they fell in neat, bouncy waves around her shoulders rather than the wild, irrepressible halo they’d formed last night. Dressed in fitted jeans and a buttoned-down shirt, she looked approachable, but professional.

  She also looked hot.

  And furious.

  And he really had to stop staring at her or her bosses would notice that their best saleswoman was flaring her nostrils and pursing her lips, looking a bit like she might charge him and tackle him to the ground.

  The image made him want to laugh, but he saw a flare of fiery anger when he let his amusement show and shut it down.

  Crap. She wasn’t supposed to find out like this.

  But Gary and the other oblivious executives were making the introductions. He was being told name after name that he would never remember, and he forced himself to nod and look in the appropriate direction as the small group of men and women smiled and said good morning when their names were called. It was a bit like kindergarten, really. Everyone was so polite. So insincere with their smiles and their forced chipperness.

  All except for her. Not-Rhonda.

  “And this is Katherine, our number one salesperson for the year,” Gary said with a fatherly grin as he wrapped an arm around Bryce’s woman.

  Bryce hoped no one else heard the low growl in his throat.

  She did. He saw it in the way her eyes widened. Or maybe she was shocked by the way Gary was showing her off like his little pet. He wondered if he was the jerk she’d been referring to last night. The one who was always hitting on
her…

  Another growl escaped before he could stop it.

  “And that’s Todd. He oversees the sales department,” Gary continued.

  Bryce narrowed his eyes.

  Todd. He’d bet all his money that Todd was the one who sexually harassed his employees. The schmuck smirked in his direction as he said good morning, his hair too perfect, his teeth too white, and his vibe so overwhelmingly condescending that Bryce wanted to punch him in the face.

  It was official. He hated Todd.

  He glanced in Katherine’s direction—Katherine. It suited her. Definitely better than not-Rhonda. If he had any doubts about Todd, one look at her told him everything he needed to know. She was still wrapped in Gary’s awkward side-hug as she redirected her withering glare to Todd.

  She never looked back.

  For the next interminably long period of time—which may have only been ten minutes, just until breakfast was set out—he had to stand there and make idle chitchat with a group of over-eager kiss-ups, including Todd, all while trying and failing to catch Katherine’s eye and…what?

  Psychically apologize?

  He didn’t know. But if he could just get her to look at him, he could make some excuse to talk to her privately. Maybe ask her to stay behind while the others ate, or something. He just needed a minute alone with her, but she was frustratingly surrounded by the coworkers he knew she hated. At the moment, however, she seemed pleased as punch to be catching up with them, chatting over coffee. Always with a different group than the one he was talking to.

  She was avoiding him, and she was doing it extraordinarily well.

  Three

  Kat would not look at him. She refused. But not looking at him was like being told not to look at the sun when a solar eclipse was happening.

  In general, it was hard not to look at the bright shiny hot center of the universe, but when it was a rule and you were constantly being told not to…? It was almost impossible to avoid.

  Not that NASA scientists were restricting her hottie gazing, but still. Her point was valid.