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Michael’s head.  Her suspicions focused around the stories of a bitter proxy fight at West Tec.  Could Maxwell have silenced her brother so that he wouldn’t lose half of his company? The prospect chilled her.  All she had to go on was the last item in Michael’s date book—a meeting with Maxwell.  As her only lead, she would follow it.
                  She had to find out if her suspicions were correct.  She’d go to the ends of the earth to find her brother.  Crunching through snowdrifts, crowbar in her hand, she knew that there was nothing she wouldn’t do to find him.
                  Snow started to fall harder, fat flakes that stuck to her eyelashes.  Jessie groaned in dismay.  The blizzard wasn’t holding off, as she’d hoped it would.  Well, she’d better get to work before a blizzard prevented her escape from the island.
                  She stopped to catch her breath at the side of the cabin and glanced at the seedy looking place in surprise.  For a wealthy entrepreneur, Maxwell’s choice in a vacation dwelling was unusual.  The shack had to be at least fifty years old, the green paint peeling. 
                  Brushing the snow off her tan jacket, she shivered.  This was a far cry from her home turf of Atlanta.  She should have dressed warmer.  She’d had no idea before she left her apartment how remote and frigid this location would be. 
                  Yearning for a nice hot cup of cocoa, she crept up to a rickety storm window that seemed to be sticking out more than the others and started prying with her crowbar.  The sooner she got this odious task over, the better.  The storm window popped out with a sickening crack that sounded like a gunshot.  Jessie let out a little yelp, quickly scanning the area to make sure no one heard.  The woods remained silent all around the remote cabin. 
                  A rabbit sat in the shrubbery, unmoving, as it stared at her with wary eyes.  “It’s okay, bunny,” she whispered, and then turned back to her work. 
                  Carefully leaning the broken storm window against the cabin’s faded siding, she started in on the double-hung window.  She edged the crowbar under the bottom pane.  With all her strength, she tugged.  The window finally rose with a drawn-out squeak of protest.
                  “Got ya,” a voice suddenly muttered nearby.  Before she could react, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her from behind.
                  Jessie struggled to pull free, the crowbar falling from her numb hands, but she was good and pinned to the big man’s impossibly wide, muscled chest. 
                  Nick Maxwell, Jessie realized.  It had to be.  A wave of terror washed over her.  He jerked her up off the ground and carried her through the falling snow. 
                  Jessie flailed in his arms, kicking the juniper bushes, covering them both with snow.  It didn’t even break his stride or his tight grip on her struggling body.  Her breaking-and-entering had apparently made so much noise she hadn’t even heard his footsteps crunching in the snow as he’d crept up in back of her. 
                  “Let me loose,” she yelled, kicking back at him.  Her boot made contact with his tree-like thighs…and something softer and higher that made him swear.  His balls, she thought in satisfaction.  She’d kicked him in the balls.  She aimed for his masculinity again. 
                  With a growl, he turned her, flopping her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and his big hand spanked down on her butt hard.  “Behave yourself.”
                  She let out a screech of outrage, pounding futilely on his broad back.  Her fists bounced off his muscular body like snowflakes.  He didn’t even seem to notice. 
                  He carried