Maybe This Christmas (4 page)

But there was no skipping anything now.

They both had responsibilities. “I’ll have to get in line. We have a waiting list of people willing to pay good money to ski powder with you.”

His smile faded. “Lucky me.” He let his hand drop and turned back to Christy, who had somehow managed to apply another layer of gloss to her lips in the short time Tyler’s head had been turned.

She smiled, giving him the full effect. “I expect you’re looking forward to skiing the hell out of those slopes. I watched a replay of your medal-winning run the other day on TV. You were unbelievably fast.”

Knowing it was a sensitive subject, Brenna glanced quickly at Tyler, but his expression didn’t change. There was nothing in that wickedly handsome face to suggest this situation was difficult for him.

But she knew it was. It had to be, because Tyler O’Neil had lived to race.

From the moment he’d strapped on his first set of skis, he’d been addicted to the speed and adrenaline of downhill. It had been a passion. Some might have said an addiction.

And then he’d fallen.

Thinking about that day made her stomach turn. She could still remember the gut-wrenching terror of waiting to hear if he was dead or alive.

The whole family had been there to support him while he raced, and because she’d been working for Jackson in Europe, she’d been there, too. They’d stood in the grandstand, watching skiers hurtle down at brutal speeds, waiting for Tyler. Instead of beating them all and ending the season triumphant, he’d fallen and ended his downhill career for good. He’d spun, twisted and crashed heavily before sliding down the near vertical run and slamming into the netting. Like all skiers, he’d had falls before, but this one was different.

There had been screams from the crowd and then the murmur of anticipation followed by the dreaded stillness and the breathless agony of waiting.

Trapped in the crowd, Brenna had been unable to do anything but watch helplessly as he’d been lifted, seriously injured, into the helicopter. There had been blood on the snow, and she’d closed her eyes, breathed in the freezing air and begged whoever might be listening,
please let him live.
And she’d promised herself that as long as he survived, she’d stop wanting the impossible.

She’d stop wanting what she couldn’t have.

She’d stop hoping he’d return her feelings.

She’d stop hoping he’d fall in love with her.

She’d never complain about anything ever again.

As she’d waited for news along with the rest of his family, she’d told herself she didn’t care who he was with, as long as he was alive.

But of course that promise, made in the scalding heat of fear, hadn’t been easy to keep. Even less so now, when they worked alongside each other every day.

She’d witnessed his frustration at being forced to give up the racing career he loved. He hid his feelings under layers of bad-boy attitude, but she knew it hurt him. She knew he ached to be back racing.

He was a gifted athlete, and it made her sad to see him standing on the sidelines or coaching a group of kids. It was like watching an injured racehorse trapped in a riding school when the only place he wanted to be was on the track, winning.

She hadn’t made a sound, but he turned his head and looked at her.

He had the O’Neil eyes, that vivid, intense blue that reminded her of the sky on the most perfect skiing day. A knot of tension formed in her stomach. A dangerous lethargy spread through her body. Neither Jackson nor Sean had this effect on her. Only Tyler. For a moment she thought she saw something flicker in those blue depths, and then he gave her a slow, lazy smile.

“You ready, Bren? If I’m going to die of boredom, I don’t want to do it alone.”

No matter how bad the day, Tyler always made her laugh. She loved his wicked sense of humor and his indifference to authority. If he did something, then it was because it made sense to him, because he believed in it, not because it was laid out in a rulebook.

As someone who had grown up with the rulebook stuck in her face, she envied his cool determination to live life on his terms. He had a wild streak, but his downhill skiing career had fed his desire to duel with danger and provided an outlet for that excess energy. How he would have used that wild streak had he not been a skier had been the subject of endless speculation both in the village and on the world-cup circuit.

He threw a final smile in Christy’s direction and strolled toward the meeting room, six foot three inches of raw sex appeal and lethal charm.

Brenna followed more slowly, giving herself a lecture.

It was the beginning of the season. She had to start as she meant to go on—being realistic about her relationship with Tyler.

He saw her as “one of the boys.” A ski buddy. Even on the rare occasion she dressed up and wore heels and a tight dress, he didn’t look in her direction. Which might not have been quite so galling had it not been for the fact he looked at almost every other female who crossed his path.

She had the distinction of being the one girl in Vermont Tyler O’Neil hadn’t kissed.

In the background she heard the phone ring. Heard Christy pick it up and answer in her pitch-perfect professional voice. “Snow Crystal Spa, Christy speaking, how may I help you?”

You can’t,
Brenna thought miserably.
No one can help me.

She’d been in love with Tyler her whole life, and nothing she did, or he did, had ever changed that. Not even when he’d got Janet Carpenter pregnant, and she’d felt as if her heart had been sliced in two.

She’d taken a job on another continent in the hope of curing herself. She’d dated other men in the hope that one of them would do the job, before coming to the conclusion there was no cure. Her feelings were deep and permanent.

She was doomed to love Tyler O’Neil forever.

CHAPTER TWO

T
YLER
SPRAWLED
IN
A
chair at the edge of the room, only half listening as Jackson and Kayla gave a presentation on plans for the winter season. It was his least favorite way to spend an evening, and he had to force himself to concentrate as they flicked through slide after slide showing projected figures, visitor numbers, repeat business versus new business until after a while everything blurred, and he stopped listening, bored out of his skull.

If he never heard the words
cash flow
again, it would be too soon.

He should have been in Europe, studying videos with his team or discussing plans with Chas, his ski technician, whose expertise and magic with edges, overlays, wax and finishes had sliced seconds from Tyler’s time. They’d been a winning team, but it wasn’t just the winning he missed. It was the anticipation, the rush of speed, the one hundred seconds when you were right on the edge between control and out of control hurtling down the slope at speeds most people wouldn’t even reach in a car.

It had been his life, and that life had changed in an instant.

Fortunately, the news that his leg wouldn’t be able to withstand the forces placed on it by competitive skiing had coincided with the news that Jess was coming to live with him, so he had something else to focus on at least.

His thoughts drifted to his daughter and the conversation they’d had earlier.

There was no escaping the fact she wasn’t a kid anymore.

She was a teenager.

Everything was changing. Exactly how much did she know about his sex life? How much did she know about sex in general?

Sweat broke out on the back of his neck, and he shifted in his chair, the discomfort almost physical.

At what age were you supposed to have that talk? He had no idea. He had no idea about any of it.

And what was going on with school? He didn’t know, but it was obvious that something wasn’t right.

He needed to spend more time with her, and the easiest way to do that was to focus on her skiing.

Thinking about skiing helped him to relax. With that, at least, he was in his comfort zone.

She was good, but having grown up in Chicago with a mother who hated everything about skiing, she lacked experience. Somehow he had to cram that experience in while still fulfilling his obligations to the family business. What she needed was more hours on the mountain with someone who had the ability to coach her.

He knew he had the ability, if not the patience.

Still, the prospect of training her lifted his mood. He might not be able to ski competitively anymore, but he could ski with his daughter. He saw a lot of himself in her, which was probably why her mother had all but kicked her out the winter before. Janet had tried everything in an attempt to stamp the O’Neil out of Jess, but nothing had worked.

Pride mingled with the slow simmer of anger.

The Carpenter family had paid a fortune to slick lawyers to make sure Janet had custody of Jess. For twelve years he’d had to put up with only seeing her in the summer and at Christmas, but then Janet had become pregnant again. The combination of a new baby and Jess hitting her teenage years had culminated in her sending Jess to live with him.

Tyler had vacillated between relief and happiness that his daughter was finally where he’d wanted her all along, and fury and disbelief that Janet had sent the child away.

As far as he was concerned, family was family, and they stayed that way even when the going got tough. You couldn’t sign off or resign. Walking away wasn’t an option. He’d been eighteen when Janet had told him that their single encounter had left her pregnant, and no matter what emotions had rippled through the O’Neil family at the time, he’d never doubted that he’d had their support.

The Carpenter family had been less accepting, and Janet had never forgiven him for making her pregnant. She blamed him for the whole thing, as if she hadn’t been the one who had walked into the barn that day wearing nothing but a smile. And that blame had permeated her relationship with her daughter. It was no wonder Jess had arrived at Snow Crystal feeling insecure, unwanted and vulnerable.

“What do you think, Tyler?”

Realizing he’d been asked a question he hadn’t heard, Tyler woke up and looked at his brother. “Yeah, go for it. Great idea.”

“You have no idea what I said.” Jackson folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. “This is important. You could try paying attention.”

Tyler suppressed a yawn. “You could try being less boring.”

“The high school ski team is a coach down. The team is losing more than they’re winning. They want our help.”

“I said
less
boring.”

His brother ignored him. “I said we’d help out at the school for a couple of sessions. We can talk theory and give a waxing demonstration.”

“Waxing?” Kayla’s eyebrows rose. “We’re still talking skiing, yes? Not grooming?”

Tyler gave her a look. “How long have you lived here?”

“Long enough to know exactly how to wind you up.” Smiling, Kayla made a note on her phone. “Helping the high school team will be good publicity. I can do something with that locally.”

Tyler stared moodily at his feet and waited for them to ask him to do it.

Once, he’d skied alongside the best in the world.

Now he was going to be coaching a losing high school ski team.

Regret ripped through him along with sick disappointment and a yearning that made no sense. What was done was done.

He was about to make a flippant comment about how he’d finally made it to the top, when Jackson said, “We thought Brenna might do it.”

Brenna was the obvious person. She was a PSIA level three coach and a gifted teacher. She was patient with kids and adventurous with expert skiers.

Glancing at her, Tyler noticed the change in her expression and the stiffness of her shoulders. You didn’t have to be an expert in body language to see she didn’t want to do it.

And he knew why.

He waited for her to refuse, but instead she gave a tense smile.

“Of course. Kayla’s right. It will be good publicity and good for our reputation.” She gave the answer Jackson wanted and listened while he outlined details, but there was no sign of the smile that had been evident a few moments earlier. Instead she stared hard out the window and across the snow-dusted forest to the peaks beyond.

Tyler wondered why his brother hadn’t noticed the lack of enthusiasm in her response and decided Jackson was too caught up with the pressures of keeping the family business afloat to notice small things.
Like the rigid set of her shoulders.

He felt a rush of exasperation.

Why didn’t she speak up and say how she felt?

He knew she didn’t want to do it. Unlike most of the women he’d met, he found Brenna easy to read. The expression on her face matched her mood. He knew when she was happy; he knew when she was excited about something; he knew when she was tired and cranky. And he knew when she was unhappy. And she was unhappy now, at the news she’d be coaching the high school team.

And he knew why.

She’d hated school. Like him, she’d considered the whole thing a waste of time. All she’d wanted to do was get out on the mountains and ski as fast as she could. Lessons had got in the way of that. Tyler had felt the same, which was why he sympathized with Jess. He knew exactly how it had felt to be trapped indoors in a classroom, sweating over books that made no sense and were as heavy and dull as old bricks.

But in Brenna’s case, it hadn’t been a love of the mountains or a dislike of algebra that had driven her loathing of school, but something far more insidious and ugly.

She’d been bullied.

On more than one occasion, he and his brothers had tried to find out which kids were making Brenna’s life a misery, but she’d refused to talk about it, and none of them had witnessed anything that had given them clues. It hadn’t helped that she was younger, which meant that they rarely saw her during the school day.

Tyler had wanted to fix it, and it had driven him crazy that she wouldn’t let him.

If it had been one of his brothers, he would have sorted the problem, so he couldn’t see why she wouldn’t let him help.

On one occasion, she’d walked back from school with grazed knees and a cut on her face, her schoolbooks damaged from her encounter with whoever had pushed her in the ditch.

“I don’t need you to fight my battles, Tyler O’Neil.” She’d dragged her filthy, muddy schoolbag onto her skinny shoulder, and he remembered thinking that if he ever found out who was doing this to her, he was going to push them off the top of Scream, one of the most dangerous runs in the area.

He never had found out.

And presumably the person, or persons, responsible were now long gone from Snow Crystal, leaving only the memory.

Was she thinking of it now?

He ran his hand over his jaw and cursed under his breath. He didn’t want to think of Brenna as vulnerable. He wanted to think of her as one of the boys. He’d disciplined himself not to notice those sleek curves under the fitted ski pants. He’d trained himself not to notice the sweet curve of her mouth when she laughed. She was a colleague. A friend.

His best friend. He was never, ever going to do anything to jeopardize that.

Shit.

“I’ll go into school. I’ll coach the race training camp and whatever else needs doing.” Even as he said the words, part of his brain was yelling at him to shut up. “Brenna has enough to do around here.”

Jackson’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You?”

“Yeah, me. Why not?”

“The question is more ‘why would you?’”

He waited for Brenna to admit how she felt, and when she didn’t, he searched his brain for an explanation. “They are the stars of tomorrow.” He regurgitated something he’d read at the top of Jess’s school report and then decided he needed something more plausible. “And there’s no feeling quite like basking in the adulation of teenage girls. I don’t get anywhere near enough adulation around here, so I’ll do it.”

“No.” Brenna finally found her voice. “We all know it’s not your thing. I’ll do it.”

“I’m making it my
thing.
I’m doing it, and that’s final.”

Kayla gave a delighted chortle. “I can see the headline now—downhill champion coaches losing high school team. Great story.” She started to pace, her enthusiasm and excitement visible in every tap of her heels. “I could see if it would interest someone as a documentary. Could I do that?”

Tyler, who loathed the press after a particularly nasty piece about his alleged involvement with a stunning Austrian snowboarder, felt the hairs on the back of his neck lift. “Not if you want me to do the coaching.”

Jackson was frowning. “Are you sure you want to do it?”

“I’m sure.” Tyler thought of what he’d just committed himself to and decided Friday was now officially his worst day of the week. “Are we about done? Because staring at all those lines on the spreadsheet is making me feel as if I’m behind bars. I have work to do on some of the equipment. Proper work, I mean, not the sort that means giving presentations.”

It was fun to wind his brother up, and it took his mind off the fact Brenna was hurting, a thought that made him restless and uncomfortable.

“We’re nearly done.” Jackson refused to be rushed. “As you know, they’re predicting a big statewide snowstorm. A winter storm watch is up. According to the forecast, the storm will be right down the New England coast, which puts us in the sweet spot for snow, good news given that the snow pack is twenty percent down on the average for this time of year.”

“Hey, it’s winter in Vermont. One minute you’re skiing on grass, then you’re slithering on ice, and if you get really lucky, you’re up to your neck in powder.” But the mention of snow roused Tyler from his state of boredom. “How much snow, exactly?”

“Between twelve and fourteen inches. Possibly more.”

“That is the best news I’ve had in a long time. I love a good powder day.”

“So do our guests, and they’ll pay for a guide so you’ll be busy.”

“Trust you to ruin good news. Do you ever think of anything other than work?”

“Not with our busiest time of the year approaching, no. We’re a winter sports resort.”

Kayla glanced up from her laptop. “And you’re our USP.”

“I’m your
what?
”

“Our unique selling point. No other resort has a gold-medal-winning downhill skier available for hire.”

“I’m not for hire.”

Ignoring his dangerous tone, Kayla smiled. “You are for a price. A good price, I might add. You’re not cheap. Have you taken a look at our new website? There is a whole page devoted to you.
Ski with the
best in the world.
”

Tyler suppressed a yawn. “Can’t I give them a map and let them find their own way?”

Jackson ignored that. “People will pay good money to lay down tracks in fresh snow and enjoy the silence.”

“And with all those people enjoying it, there won’t be any silence,” Tyler pointed out, but Jackson wasn’t listening.

“The snow will be fun on the slopes, less fun on the roads.” As usual, his brother focused on the implications for the business. “If it happens, we’ll need to find rooms for as many staff as possible because the snowplows will have trouble keeping up.”

Deciding that logistics weren’t his problem, Tyler rose to his feet. “My bed is big enough for two. Three if they’re blonde.” He kept his eyes away from Brenna’s shiny dark hair. “I’m going now before I die of boredom and you have to remove my rotting corpse. Not that I know anything about marketing, but I’m guessing that wouldn’t be good for business.”

* * *

T
RYING
TO
ERASE
an image of Tyler sharing his bed with two blondes, Brenna zipped up her jacket and stepped out into the freezing night. Tyler was already striding ahead, and she looked at those broad, powerful shoulders, thinking that meetings never lasted long when he was involved. He drove things forward, impatient to be out in the fresh air, incapable of sitting still for any length of time.