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Authors: Bonnie K. Winn

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BOOK: The Accidental Mrs. Mackenzie
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She scrabbled for her footing, stepping up to the next level and vaulting toward the top. But Matt’s voice stopped her.
“Aren’t going to leave me out here all alone, are you?”
Was that a mocking edge she’d heard in his words? Or was her overactive imagination going at warp speed? She turned back to him slowly. “You were out here alone before.”
“So I was.” And at the time he’d thought it was exactly what he wanted. A solitary tub to soak in, to rinse away the unwanted thoughts he’d been having. And then the object of those thoughts had literally fallen into his lap. He should be encouraging her to leave, not inviting her to stay.
Despite the blackness of the night, the quarter moon had provided enough light to clearly see the curves her new tailored clothes had hinted at. Curves that dripped sensuously with a sheen of moisture from the pool. His gaze followed the trickle of water that beaded beneath her chin, then lowered to the lush spill of high breasts, the curve of her tiny waist, the womanly flare of her hips, the shapely long legs—legs he could envision tangling with his own.
He’d never coveted his brother’s girlfriends, never competed with him in that arena. And that cooperation had come naturally, without discussion, without problem. He and Gregory had never been attracted to the same type of woman. Matt had easily put his brother’s girlfriends in a detached part of his mind, treating them like he would a kid sister.
So why was it that nothing he felt about Brynn was brotherly? While she really didn’t seem suited to Gregory, and her stores about him sounded like they belonged in the funny papers, why had he kept challenging their relationship? Pushing her to what? Declare his brother had no claim on her?
Then what? He conveniently moved in for the kill? Having spent the last hour on the phone, fruitlessly trying to find out more information about Gregory, Matt considered that the ultimate betrayal. He should be feeling protective of Brynn, guarding his brother’s interests.
Not cultivating his own. His eyes fastened on the betraying pulse at her throat, fluttering wildly out of control, and the agitated rising of her barely contained breasts. And he knew it wasn’t a problem he faced alone.
The quarter moon outlined her body, poised to flee, and Matt closed his eyes to the possibilities. Instead, he made his voice deliberately casual. “You’re right. I was out here alone. While you’re welcome to stay, I think I’ll be going in. I have an early date with a ski lift.”
“I...I believe I’ll be going in, too.” Her smile was strained. “I think I’ve had enough for one night.”
Sprinting out of the tub, Brynn paused only long enough to retrieve her robe and belt it around her body. Then she ran. Watching her until she disappeared, Matt spoke into the suddenly empty darkness. “And I’ve had enough, too.”
Chapter Eight
U
nable to resist, Brynn dug through the trunk that had been brought down to her room from the attic. She hadn’t planned to, but the lure of all those memories drew her. Rising before dawn after a nearly sleepless night, she had plenty of time to kill, not wanting to disturb anyone else.
Unfolding a parasol, Brynn twirled it above her head, imagining the lazy days of summer, women in frilly, pastel dresses, men in seersucker suits. Gregory fit that image perfectly, with his polished good looks and affinity for equally eye-catching clothes. Closing her eyes, she imagined strolling along, arm in arm with him.
But the image wasn’t as strong as she would have liked.
Instead, Gregory’s likeness faded, was replaced by a stronger, taller man, one whose powerful presence dominated, especially when he effortlessly picked her up, carrying her away to unknown delights.
With a little shake she brought herself back to the present, glancing around to make sure she was still alone. She hated being caught in one of her daydreams. More than that, she hated having Matt take over those dreams, pushing Gregory out.
How had that happened? She’d loved Gregory since the moment she’d first seen him. And reading about him in the papers, learning about his status in and commitment to the community, she’d found him to be an admirable man. His quick smiles on the jogging path told her that he was kind, sensitive—the sort of man she wanted to spend her life with.
So why was Matt threatening to take his place in her fantasies?
Purposely she turned back to the trunk, trying to forget the unwanted visions. Moments later she was lifting out layers of the MacKenzies’ past.
A baby’s christening dress, delicately embroidered linen handkerchiefs, a hand-crocheted lace collar. Brynn’s fingers closed around something heavier, solid-feeling. Pulling the bundle from the trunk, she discovered it was a leather-bound book. Tracing her fingers over the flower-embossed cover, she outlined the word Journal and the date beneath it—some thirty years earlier. She wondered if she dared open the book, to intrude on thoughts put to paper so long ago. Slowly she lifted the cover and stared at the flyleaf. “Journal of Miranda Rose MacKenzie.”
Deciding that she would be violating Miranda’s privacy, Brynn closed the cover and reached into the trunk to return the journal. As she did, a photograph floated from the book, apparently disturbed when the journal had been opened.
Picking up the photo, she intended to put it back when the faces in the picture caught her attention. One looked like a young Miranda, hand in hand with a handsome man. Their faces reflected happiness and another quality—love.
Curious, Brynn turned the photo over. “Miranda and Neil. Always.”
Brynn wondered what had happened to change “always.” And what had happened to Neil.
A knock on the door interrupted her musings. Hurriedly replacing the picture, Brynn called out. “Come in.”
“Hello, my dear,” Ruth greeted her. “I hate to disturb you....” She looked at the tumble of things that had been retrieved from the trunk. “I don’t know, on second thought, maybe you’ll be glad I did.”
Brynn smiled. “I love all this.”
Ruth rolled her eyes. “I guess it’s good that someone does. But frankly, I can’t imagine why.” She picked up the christening dress. “Although some things are worth looking at again.”
“Gregory’s?” Brynn guessed.
Ruth gave the material a little pat, before laying the dress down. “Yes.” She finned lips that had begun to tremble. “Now, before I start crying again I should tell you why I’ve bothered you.”
“You’re not bothering—”
“I am, but I have a good reason. First, the State Department said they’ll proceed to step two in the negotiations. I’m not sure what that means, but I’m taking it as good news.”
Brynn smiled. “My fingers are crossed.”
Ruth crossed her own fingers. “Mine, too. Also, Matt plans to go back to Plum Ridge today and Frank’s making noises that he should be going. But the thin altitude makes his breathing even more difficult, and he won’t take along his portable oxygen tank. At least here I can nag him into using it. I know it’s an imposition, but I thought that perhaps since you helped Matt the other day, I could talk you into going again today. More measuring, I believe. If you head downstairs and snag Matt in front of him, I think Frank will assume you set this up the last time you were on the ridge.”
“Oh.” Another trip alone with Matt. Would her nerves take it? She could hardly tell Ruth they hadn’t made it to Plum Ridge the other day. Or why.
“I know taking measurements isn’t much fun, but I’m so worried about Frank....”
A picture of his fragile condition flashed through Brynn’s mind. “I don’t expect to be entertained. Actually...just being here is entertainment in itself.” More like a complicated set of entanglements. But ones she needed to get a grip on. Maybe today could be a new beginning—a chance to wipe the slate clean, to see Matt in a proper light.
Ruth’s expression relaxed into a loving one. “Gregory certainly found a treasure in you.” After enveloping her in a spontaneous hug, Ruth left.
Brynn stared after her.
Treasure
? She had a feeling by the time this charade played itself out, her nerves wouldn’t be fit for the junk pile.
 
PLUM RIDGE ROSE BEYOND the crest of the foothills, eclipsed only by the white-capped peaks of the tallest mountains. Silverleafed aspens trembled in the soft breeze, while overhead miles of unobstructed blue dipped to meet the wild grass.
To Matt, Plum Ridge was the embodiment of Eagle Point. The land was in his blood, along with his love of the unfettered acres. And that was all wrapped up in his dreams and his family.
Staring at Brynn, he was trying hard to remember that she was family. But in his mind, it was still hard to reconcile. Especially after last night, and the heated dreams that had followed. And knowing nothing had been culminated from those dreams didn’t help.
She’d been nervous as they drove to the ridge, clearly not comfortable being alone with him. As soon as they’d parked, Brynn had pulled off her shoes to run through the grass. Even now, she was collecting the last of the wildflowers, exclaiming over everything from the lowly buttercups to the exquisite evening primrose.
Matt remembered Christina, Gregory’s last girlfriend. She’d have thought this entire expedition was a waste, not to mention time spent at Eagle Point waiting for word on Gregory. As he recalled, Christina had to be surgically separated from her day planner and then only on rare occasions. Her relationship with Gregory had to be squeezed in between meetings, business trips, late hours. Since Gregory had the same sort of agenda, Matt had wondered how they ever got together.
And then there was Brynn. Seemingly uncomplicated, she was in fact full of layers. But as each layer was exposed, it seemed more impossible that she was his brother’s wife.
And even more impossible that he was having so much difficulty remembering the fact that she was.
Shading his eyes from the sun, Matt watched as Brynn studied the magnificent scenery. He knew the landscape was pretty overwhelming—sensory overload to most first-timers. But she couldn’t seem to see enough.
He knew they should get started on the measurements, but he hated to begin, enjoying these unguarded moments.
Brynn turned just then, a sudden grin splitting her face. “It’s like being on top of the world.”
Her enthusiasm was contagious. He closed the distance between them, walking to the edge where she stood. “From here you can see three states.”
She looked at him skeptically. “Is this one of those things you tell the gullible city slicker?”
“Nope. You can see Utah, Idaho and Wyoming.” He took her arm and turned her toward the north. “Idaho.”
“Oh.”
“And over there—” when she didn’t turn, he put his hands at her waist, turning her toward the east “—is Wyoming.” As he spoke, he became intensely aware of where his hands now rested. He had an urge to slide them over the subtle curve of her hips, then up her torso toward her breasts. She’d worn the formfitting jeans again and there was no doubt he liked just how they “fit” her “form.” An image of her clad only in the brief bathing suit surfaced and his throat dried.
She was suddenly still beneath his touch. Gone were her usual skittish moves. Very aware of his hold on her, Matt knew he had to either follow his desire or release her.
Cursing silently, Matt dropped his hands. “And of course you can see Utah.”
“What?” As she turned to him, he could see a thready pulse beating erratically in the hollow of her throat, nearly matching the whispery quality of her voice—the same betraying pulse he’d seen the night before.
“The three states you can see from here,” he replied, realizing his voice was as gruff as hers. He cleared his throat. “And we don’t charge extra for the view.”
“Good thing,” she tried to joke, realizing her experiment had bombed. Apparently there was no way the slate would be wiped clean. “It would take a king’s ransom to pay for this view.”
Matt took a step back, needing to regain his equilibrium, needing to head far away from the dangerous thoughts that were growing more difficult to control. “More than a king’s ransom. It took blood and sweat.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
Matt gestured at the surrounding area with a broad sweep of his arm, taking refuge in the familiar. “This is MacKenzie land and it didn’t come cheap—and I don’t mean in dollars. It’s been in our family for generations. Generations of sacrifice, lives lost, hard work.”
Brynn studied him, admiring this side of him, his raw, elemental craving for the solid promise of the land. “It means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”
He met her gaze directly. “Yes.” That one simple word conveyed so much more.
“It’s quite a legacy.”
Matt thought briefly of Gregory’s disdain for the land, wondering how his wife would react to the same heritage. Trying to remember she was in fact Gregory’s wife. “And a great responsibility. Each generation has to improve and renew the land.”
“And so now it’s your turn?” Brynn questioned, seeing the commitment in his eyes, the steady burn of his dedication; and realizing how much those qualities appealed to her.
“Exactly.” He looked out at the land he held so dear, thinking of how difficult it had been to convince his father that it was time for Eagle Point to grow. “And change of any kind doesn’t come easy—especially when you’re steeped in tradition.”
“What changes do you want to make?”
“I like to call them improvements.” He couldn’t disguise the excitement in his voice. “New ski lifts—six-passenger high-speed detachable chairlifts that’ll transport skiers up the mountain at a thousand feet per minute—like the Silverlode in Park City.”
“I’m not sure exactly what that means to a ski resort.”
“They’ll replace the quads—putting us on the cutting edge of technology. And we need more snowmaking equipment—Snow-Cats, additional snow guns. I want the hanging-tower snowmaking guns—again to be on the cutting edge.”
Brynn’s face was twisted into a question mark. “I don’t want to sound stupid, but why do you make snow? Doesn’t it just occur naturally?”
Matt laughed, wishing it was that easy. “Skiers expect snow every single day of the season. And nature doesn’t always cooperate. So we have to be able to produce it.”
“Is it as good as the famous ‘greatest snow on the earth’ the state’s always bragging about?”
“Nothing can match or touch Utah powder, but skiing’s big business. Park City has ten million dollars invested in snowmaking equipment—and we have to keep up or take a back seat.”
“I guess I just never realized....” Brynn looked boggled at the amount he’d suggested. “But you said there were other improvements, too.”
Matt replayed what had been his own internal monologue, representing countless days and nights of planning, calculating, researching, and soul-searching. “I want to expand our ski school, install an indoor pool, build a new fitness center, and enlarge the skating oval so we can bring in big-name figureskating stars and shows like Sun Valley does.”
“Whew! I can’t even begin to imagine....”
“And that doesn’t include adding new cottages, renovating the lodge, putting hot tubs in all the balcony rooms, and building a four-star restaurant.”
“As overwhelming as that sounds, I’m guessing that’s not all.”
He liked her perceptiveness, her quick understanding. “Right. I want to install more outdoor hot tubs over the natural mineral springs—like our outside pools are.”
Their eyes flew together, the previous night demanding to be remembered.
Purposely he kept his voice brisk and businesslike, reminding himself that she was his sister-in-law. Nothing more. “But I want to terrace the hot tubs up the mountainside with a 360-degree view of the mountain peaks by day.”
“And,” she prompted, adopting his tone.
BOOK: The Accidental Mrs. Mackenzie
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