In From the Cold Read online

  Perfect families don’t always start with perfect ingredients.

  Professional nanny Claire Iverson has wiped enough noses, butts and spills to qualify for a PhD in raising kids. She knows a toddler with a potty crisis when she sees one, and it’s clear this child’s impossibly handsome father doesn’t, since he’s sound asleep on the flight to Jackson, Wyoming.

  Getting burned by her ex-boyfriend left her gun-shy around men, but when it comes to this beautiful little girl, she has to speak up. Just her luck, it turns out the man she just dressed down is her new boss.

  Between his roles as full-time CEO and full-time father, Drake Driscoll is exhausted. If he can seal the next deal at his upcoming holiday house party, he’ll have room to breathe. He never expected for his daughter’s new nanny to take his breath away.

  Claire hesitates to accept the warmth that beckons in Drake’s arms. But soon their attraction ignites, pulling them in deeper than either of them expected. Into passion that could weld them forever—or burn them to cinders.

  Warning: Hot chocolate, cozy fires, snowball fights and sizzling ski hut sex = one very merry holiday!

  In From the Cold

  Meg Adams

  Dedication

  Many people helped me write this book, but special thanks go to Mari Carr and Imogen Howson, both of whom held my hand through all the scary parts of the process. I would never have made it without you. And to my “Big Guys”. Thanks for all your love and support.

  Chapter One

  Claire

  My neighbor’s elbow was lodged in my ribs, and my knees were crammed against the seat in front of me. I felt nauseated, the air heavy with the odors of disinfectant, old plastic and too many bodies in a small space.

  I hated airplanes.

  I hadn’t always. As a child, I had loved the excitement of takeoff. The roar of the engines building, my stomach sinking, hands on the armrests clutching, and then that breathless moment when the plane lifts, lifts…and then, airborne. It was amazing. Magical.

  But I was not feeling the magic now. I didn’t even know whether we had taken off. This was no magic carpet.

  This was a dirty flying bus.

  I settled back in my seat and buckled my seatbelt, determined to enjoy this trip. Wyoming would make it all worthwhile. Finally, I was moving forward, stepping out—not babysitting my sister Debra’s kids, not hiding in my room, not drowning in my memories of Jim.

  I gazed down the aisle toward first class and saw the little brown-haired girl I had played with in the terminal. With straight chin-length brown hair parted on one side, bangs and a big red bow, her wide blue eyes and dimples sparkled when she grinned. She was adorable.

  Her dad? Not so much.

  I scowled at the back of his head. In the terminal, he had ignored his daughter, so absorbed with his phone call that he hadn’t noticed her slip several seats away, playing peekaboo with me. When she had started toward a bathroom by herself, I’d had enough.

  I had hitched my bag on my shoulder and intercepted her, grabbing her little hand. “Sweetie? Don’t go in a bathroom alone. You need an adult to take you.”

  “Will you?” She grinned up at me, innocent and trusting, and my fears for her jangled my temper. What if I’d been a pervert?

  I shook my head. “That’s your mommy or daddy’s job. Are they here?”

  She nodded and pointed at the dark-haired guy on the cell phone. I walked over with her, but he continued to talk, ignoring us.

  “Excuse me?” I demanded, firm but polite. He looked up, startled, then glanced at the girl. He held up a finger for me to wait and continued his conversation.

  “Yeah, I see. Two weeks from now. Look, I’ve got to go.”

  He listened some more, while my impatience mounted. “Yes.”

  More chatter. “All right.”

  He nodded and winked at me. “Yes. Bye. Yes. Right. Bye.”

  He tapped his phone off and slid it in his pocket. “Sorry ’bout that. I couldn’t…” The expression on my face finally seemed to register, and he stopped talking. He tilted his head at her, then at me. “Is there a problem?”

  “Well, that depends,” I snapped, exasperated. “Not if you want to lose your child in a crowded airport.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Lose her? She’s been right here the whole time.”

  “Actually, no, she hasn’t. She’s been with me.” I nodded my head toward my seat several aisles away. “And she was heading into the bathroom by herself—not the safest place for a little girl to go alone.”

  He stood, filling the space between us, forcing me to look up. He was tall, muscular, and there was a lot of him. Intimidating. Handsome. But I refused to retreat.

  “Here.” I placed the little girl’s hand in his. “She still needs to go. And in future—” I pointed toward a small child, attached to her parents with a harness and lead, “—you might want to consider one of those. It lets her walk, but keeps her close—and safe.”

  “My child’s not a dog.” Annoyed hazel eyes scowled down at me. “That thing looks like a leash.”

  I wanted to poke him in his chest, then paused at the mental image of David poking Goliath. Maybe not. I crossed my arms instead. “Suit yourself. But me? I’d rather lose my dog than my child.”

  Forget David and Goliath. I’d poked a bear.

  “Now wait a minute. I knew where she was the whole time,” he insisted, but he looked away when he said it.

  “Yeah, fine. Whatever.” I rolled my eyes. “She still needs to go.”

  “Daddy!” Right on cue, she yanked him toward the bathrooms. “Nooow!”

  He looked from her to me, to the bathroom doors, then back at me. “Would you mind taking her?”

  “What?”

  He sighed, looking defeated. “Either that or I have to take her to the men’s room.”

  He was right, of course. I should have realized. If I weren’t so damn irritated, I would have.

  I looked down at her worried blue eyes. “Please?” She pressed her legs together dramatically.

  I sighed and took her hand. “All right. Come on.”

  As she tugged me away, I heard him mumble a faint, “Thank you.”

  Jerk.

  He sat beside her now, but all I could see was his thatch of dark hair. I wondered vaguely where her mother was, what their story was. Then I caught her twinkling at me over her seat.

  I grinned, and she covered her eyes again. I played peekaboo with her for another minute or two, and then she disappeared. Maybe Mr. Jerk made her turn around.

  I listened to my headset for a while with my eyes closed, half-dozing, then I felt something touch my arm. I opened my eyes to see two teary blue ones inches from mine.

  “I hafta go potty again,” she blubbered, then drew in a desperate breath. “And Daddy’s sleeping.”

  Great. Somehow, I’d become the go-to potty person. I didn’t really mind, though. She was sweet, and it wasn’t her fault that her dad was clueless.

  I unhooked my seatbelt. “Okay, sugar. Let’s go.” I took her tiny hand and led her to the rear restroom. Luckily, no one was inside.

  “I need help,” she said, so I squatted in the tight doorway, my rear end blocking the door. I helped her onto the seat and she did her business, and then with great care, wiped.

  “Good girl. You did a great job.”

  “See? I wiped all by myself too.” She held up her soiled toilet paper, delighted with her trophy. I grinned and clapped my hands. Oh, to still be proud of poo.

  “You’re amazing. Now let’s get your britches back—”

>   “What the hell are you doing with my daughter?”

  I wiggled out of the door backward, bumping the body behind me, and then inched up slowly, so crammed for space that I dragged along his torso all the way up. I turned and faced a familiar chest. I tilted my head back, way back, to see angry hazel eyes glaring down at me again, like bad déjà vu. Our bodies were forced together, my right hand trapped between us, his arms around me. A flight attendant hovered uneasily in the small galley nearby.

  I tried to ignore the sensations that tingled everywhere he touched, his body warm and hard against me, and gestured toward his daughter with my free hand. “What’s it look like I’m doing?”

  “Hi, Daddy,” she giggled, still on the toilet. “See what I did?” She proudly waved the soiled paper in her hand.

  “Are you all right, Suzie?” He shifted to move around me and bumped hard into my breasts. He jerked away, then wrapped his hands around my upper arms, picked me up and lifted me easily to the side.

  “Now wait one minute.” I poked my finger in his back. “You can’t just pick me up and move me aside like a…like a piece of furniture or something.” I wanted to kick him, I was so mad.

  “I believe I just did.” He smirked at me over his shoulder, like I was an irritating bug. He turned back to his daughter and tried to hunker down, but he was too big to fit inside the door.

  “Can you help me, Daddy?” Suzie sounded doubtful. “I need to pull my pants back up, but they’re tangled on my shoe.”

  “Put your hand on my shoulder, Birdie.” He tried to squat again, but couldn’t. Finally, he wiggled sideways, and twisted into a half-sitting, half-standing pretzel that looked downright painful.

  I chuckled. How delightful.

  Suzie pointed at me, grinning. “This nice lady helped me again. I really had to go and I could feel the TT coming and I didn’t want to wake you.”

  Suzie’s father struggled with the clasp on her Mary Janes. He refused to look at me. “Why didn’t you ask me, Suzie? I was worried when I woke up and you weren’t in your seat.”

  She looked bewildered. “But Daddy…” Her chin trembled. “You said not to wake you and you were drooling and this nice lady was awake and…and…” Suzie looked at me, then back at her dad, clearly confused. Finally, she clapped two fingers in her mouth and sucked, escaping the adult tension between us. Smart girl.

  He finally had her pants leg freed from her shoe and pulled up her tiny navy blue corduroys. He sighed. “You can always wake me if you need to, sweetheart. And you shouldn’t talk to strangers.” He turned his head and glared at me.

  I raised an eyebrow and leaned in. “And what’s that say about you that your daughter had to ask a stranger for help?” I whispered, close enough that despite the smells of poo and disinfectant, I could smell him. He smelled nice, like cedar and faint wood smoke, outdoorsy and earthy and…dangerous to my peace of mind. I stepped back.

  “She’s not a stranger, Daddy. We played peekaboo.” She giggled and clapped her free hand over her eyes. I grinned and pointed to my chest.

  “See? Not a stranger. I passed the peekaboo test.”

  He stood and loomed over me, his face angry and tired and overwhelmed. Crap.

  Suddenly, I didn’t feel quite so smug. I didn’t want to empathize with this creep, or notice how handsome he was or how good he smelled. Even tired and bristly, he was all dark hair, hazel eyes and shoulders, disturbing in ways I’d not let myself feel since Jim.

  I shouldn’t forget what a jerk he’d been. Anger made good armor.

  “I don’t even know your name,” he growled through clenched teeth. “And you had my child in the bathroom with her pants down.”

  “So maybe you misjudged the situation just a tad.” I smacked his chest—his hard chest—with the back of my hand. He looked surprised, then amused, but my dander was up.

  “All I did was help your little girl—a little girl, I might add, who can’t potty by herself yet. Sorry. Next time, I’ll let her pee in her pants.”

  I whipped away, but then I felt his hand on my elbow. I looked back.

  “Thank you. And you still haven’t told me your name.” He smiled and…wow. Any other time, a smile like his would have made me stutter and blush. Again, my anger saved me.

  “And I’m not going to—I rather like being a stranger to you.” He scowled, and I turned to Suzie. “Are you okay now, Suzie Q?”

  She nodded, her whole head moving like a Weeble wobble toy. I reached out and smoothed her hair. “Next time, I guess you’d better ask your daddy for help. Okay, sweetie? Using the potty is such a big-girl thing, and it’s really important to him.”

  She nodded again, solemn this time, and I tapped her nose.

  “Okay. Bye now, sweetheart.”

  “Bye-bye, Miss Stranger.” She turned to her father, who still frowned at me. “Daddy?”

  He shifted his gaze to her. “Yes, Birdie?”

  “What do I do with this?” She smacked the poo-covered paper into his hand. He grimaced.

  “Have fun.” I waggled my clean fingers, and with an evil grin, sidled back to my seat.

  Chapter Two

  Drake

  Shit.

  Literally.

  I frowned at my hand, then at Miss Stranger’s back, irritated by her smug delight in my incompetence and by her delectable ass—an ass I had almost touched, mind you—before she walked away.

  “This goes in the potty, honey.” I suppressed a groan.

  “Oh. Okay.” Suzie grabbed it back and threw it in the potty, her hand now covered too. She reached to push the button.

  “No. Don’t touch—”

  Too late. Now shit was on the console too. My groan escaped after all.

  “Did I do bad?” Her tiny lips trembled and I felt defeated, again. I was so bad at this. I could run a multi-million-dollar company, but I couldn’t potty train a child. Jesus.

  I took a deep breath and counted silently, willing myself to be patient. Calm.

  “No, sweetie. Poopoo paper goes in the pot as soon as you wipe. See? It made a mess, and now we have to clean it up.”

  I washed the console, and both our hands, using soap, water, and then Purell, just to be on the safe side. We edged our way back to first class, passing Miss Stranger on the way. She pointedly ignored me, but smiled at Suzie, and my conscience twinged again.

  So I’d jumped the gun a little. I admitted it. But when I’d awakened to Suzie’s empty seat, I panicked. Even after the flight attendant told me where she was, my adrenaline still surged, and I had lashed out when I probably shouldn’t have. Probably.

  Okay, I shouldn’t have.

  One more mistake in a long line of them.

  Ever since the divorce two years ago, I had been trying to find my way with Suzie. She lived with me, but I’d been so busy I never had much time with her. Her nanny and the housekeeper looked after her, and my ex, her mother, on odd weekends—in between her lovers and house parties and charity functions and shopping trips to Europe.

  But Suzie had me and I had Suzie. She was the best thing in my world, even though I had no clue how to be a good dad.

  Maybe I could earn brownie points for persistence and good intentions, although I already knew where good intentions led. I wouldn’t be on this damn public plane now if Ethan, my VP, hadn’t needed to go to Dubai for that new hotel security deal. So rather than taking my personal jet and letting the flight attendant take care of Suzie, I had taken on the burden. And only three hours in, I was exhausted.

  Help was waiting in Jackson, though. The host of this house party, Jason Fritz, had hired a full-time nanny for those guests who wanted or needed to bring their children. And I was looking forward to some downtime with Suzie. But Jesus, she was work.

  I needed to hold on, be patient and focus on the proposal with Jason. He wanted to
update security in ten different locations around the world, perfect for the next stage of my company. The exposure alone would benefit us enormously. I had already met Jason formally several times, so he knew my business face, but not me personally. A traditional guy, I knew Jason valued family. If I could prove I shared his values, hopefully through Suzie, I felt sure I could seal the deal. But only if I survived it.

  I closed my eyes and let my head fall back on the headrest. So what if Miss Stranger had busted my chops? Suzie liked her. And she had helped her. And she was attractive.

  Attractive, but not gorgeous. I liked that. In my experience, “gorgeous” meant a thin veneer covering a heap of ugly. But there was something about Miss Stranger. Nice parts, for one. A great ass (framed so invitingly in the plane’s bathroom doorway), fiery blue eyes (especially when trained on me) and a nice mouth. She had straight brown hair with some golden tints, pulled back with a simple headband. She kind of glowed. She radiated something real, healthy and natural, not hidden behind makeup and styled hair and couturier clothes. What you saw was what you got. And my mind whirled with pleasant possibilities about what I couldn’t see.

  Her breasts, for example. She wasn’t flat or huge, just nice round handfuls from what I could tell. She was short—she barely came up to my chest—and light when I’d picked her up.

  Picked her up?

  Damn. I had. But that ass and those breasts—nice sweet curves all over, easy to melt into. I shifted in my seat, getting hard just thinking about her.

  Would I see her again? Would she speak if we did?

  I sighed. It had been too long, that was all. I had last gotten laid in what—July? Jesus, nearly six months ago. And she’d been another like my ex-wife Wanda, all glitz and glam, totally fake, leaving me hollow and drained.

  Maybe this trip I’d find someone who didn’t treat sex like part of the job description. I was tired of picking up Glinda of the North only to find the Wicked Witch of the West in my bed in the morning.

  “Daddy?” Suzie tugged on my sleeve.

  “Yes, Birdie?”