Nick of Time. Elle James
out into the darkness of an early winter morning. With the cold wind biting at all exposed flesh, Nick reevaluated his decision to jog. After ducking back inside and donning his snow boots and a solid white snowsuit, goggles and hood, he left his room, feeling a bit more prepared for a brisk walk and a chance to learn the layout of the town.
MARY MUST HAVE FALLEN asleep sometime after three because she didn’t wake until thirty-five minutes after five, when she looked at her clock again. Nightmares had plagued her. All involving her father and some dark menace lurking in the shadows of the town, of her home and the bed-and-breakfast where she and Nick St. Claire were staying. Had she scared herself awake or had something disturbed her sleep? Maybe a noise? She sat up and held her breath, straining to hear it again.
A door opened and closed in the hallway, and from the sound of it, right across from hers. She flung the covers back and ran barefoot across the carpeted floor. She took a moment to shove the dresser aside before she could yank open the door.
A man in a white snowsuit stood in the hallway, bundled up from head to toe.
Mary opened her mouth to scream, but before she could utter so much as a squeak, the man reached out, grabbed her arm and spun her around, clamping a hand over her mouth.
Her heart pounded in her chest so hard, she thought maybe she’d pass out, but she couldn’t. This could be the man who was after her father. Barely able to breathe, she fought with all her might against the arm crushing her breasts beneath the thin flannel of her pajamas. No matter how much she wiggled and kicked, his hold didn’t loosen.
Over the sound of her own muffled grunts, a deep baritone penetrated her frightened mind. “Be still. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Too late, her foot had been in midswing and she couldn’t stop her heel from gouging the man’s shin. Her heel radiated pain from the force.
The man grunted. “It’s me, Nick.” He let go of her so suddenly, she almost collapsed on the cool tile of the hallway floor. She spun and faced him, ready to kick again, her breath coming in ragged pants, anger replacing fear. “Why the heck did you grab me?”
“Did you have to go and kick me so hard?” He bent, rubbing his shin, pushing his goggles up onto his forehead, exposing those brown-black eyes that sparkled like a moonlit oil spill.
“What did you expect? My room’s broken into—”
“—by your father, so you said—” Nick straightened, a frown denting his forehead with fine lines.
“—my father’s missing, and last night a man almost runs me over in the hallway—”
The corners of Nick’s lips twitched. “—who could have forgotten to turn off the stove in his house—” And the jerk had the audacity to grin.
“—and you aren’t wearing your cowboy hat—” She knew she was floundering, but the man had her tied in freakin’ knots!
“—which I couldn’t fit under my parka hood—” His grin widened.
Mary glared at Nick, unable to stop now. “—and you expect me to welcome you with a kiss?” She jerked her bare foot back and kicked him again, hopefully in the same spot as the first time.
He yelped. “Hey, what was that for?”
“For laughing at me when, for all I know, you could be the man my father’s having to hide from.” She flattened both her palms on his chest and pushed. “You could have been feeding me lies all along and be the root of my problems. Give me one good reason why I should trust you.” She pushed him again until his back hit the wall behind him. “Just one good reason.”
His eyes darkened and his hand grasped her flannel-covered shoulders, jerking her forward.
She gasped, drawing in a deep breath to scream, only for the sound to be muffled by the force of his lips crushing hers in a lip-lock that defied breaking. Even if she’d wanted to push away from him, she couldn’t. Her knees buckled and she fell against him, her breasts pressed against the cushiony thickness of his insulated jacket.
At first hard, his mouth softened, his tongue darting out to trace the line of her lips until she opened them on a sigh. He plunged in, past her teeth to her tongue. The gloves he’d had in his hands hit the floor as his fingers rose to thread through her hair, gripping the length. With a gentle tug, he tipped her head backward, exposing the long line of her throat.
Just when she thought she might never breathe again, his lips slid off the end of hers and traced a path along her jaw and downward to the pulse shooting blood up in her ears. Her fingers moved between their bodies and she slid them inside his jacket, letting his skin warm hers. When his hands rubbed down her sides and slid beneath the hem of her flannel shirt, his warm fingers against her naked skin, Mary’s body flared with red-hot desire and she moaned.
Just as quickly as he’d drawn her to him, he set her away, a smile curling his lips as his hands dropped to his sides.
Mary pressed the back of her fingers to her ravaged lips and stared up at him, too shaken to move away. “That wasn’t a reason,” she said, her voice a husky remnant of her prekissed tone. When she realized how weak she sounded, she forced her shoulders back. “Don’t ever do that again. Just because you’re stronger doesn’t mean you can force unwanted advances on me.”
His gaze shifted from her eyes downward to the flare of her nightshirt, where the turgid tips of her nipples pressed against soft flannel. “Unwanted?” Dark brows angled upward.
Mary crossed her arms over her chest, heat rising in her neck to fill her cheeks. Best to defend with a good offense, her daddy always said. “Where were you going anyway?”
“For a walk.” He stepped forward.
Mary stepped back. “At this hour?”
“Yeah.”
“Honey, this ain’t Virginia, or wherever you’re from. It’s probably minus twenty outside. Are you nuts?”
“I need air.”
She purposely stood in his way. “If you’re going out to snoop around, I’m going with you.”
“I work alone.”
“Not as long as I’m around.” She narrowed her eyes and pointed a finger at his chest. “Stay. I’ll be back in two minutes.” She ducked into her room, slamming the door behind her. She dressed, shoved her hair into a ponytail and covered her body from head to toe in cold-weather gear. All the time she dressed, she prayed Nick hadn’t left the building. With the snow still falling, his tracks would disappear within minutes.
Grabbing her gloves, Mary flung open her door and raced out, running face-first into Nick’s chest. “Oh, well…so you stayed.”
“Not that I follow your orders. I was just curious.”
Mary straightened. “What do you mean, curious?”
“Whether or not any woman alive could get ready in just two minutes.” He turned and walked toward the exit door. “By the way, it was three.”
Jerking her gloves on her hands, Mary felt the flash of irritation fade into a chuckle. The man had a sense of humor, warped as it might be.
For the next twenty minutes, they crunched through icy layers of snow along the partially cleared sidewalks lining St. Nicholas Drive, headed northwest past Christmas Towne and the twenty-foot-tall Santa Claus statue. Mary peered into every shadow, wondering where her father was or if there was someone out there watching her and Nick. Surely, even the bad guys didn’t get up and out this early on a frigid morning.
They turned left onto Santa Claus Lane and took another left onto Mission Road, passing Snowman Lane and crossing Highway 2. Mary hadn’t realized it, but she’d ended up leading him past all the most famous of street names like Blitzen, Donner and Kris Kringle, the cheerful memories of her childhood lightening her footsteps and chasing away the demons in the darkness.