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kill him first.
    He heard Toby growing restless inside the car, which suggested the dog wasn’t used to seeing his mistress wrapped in a man’s arms being repeatedly kissed. Then again, maybe the big man was jealous. If that was the case, he’d have to make sure he and the dog came to an understanding. Ian reluctantly lifted his head again, but only enough to kiss first one of Jessie’s flushed cheeks and then the other before nudging her upright to stand facing him.
    She started to say something but stopped, then tried again—only to drop her gaze to her hand, still clutching his shirt. Her fingers unclenched and she started to give his chest a pat, but stopped in midpat and sighed.
    Ian bit back a laugh and opened her door, helped her inside, and handed her the seat belt. “Welcome to Pine Creek, Jessie,” he said, softly closing the door.

Chapter Three

    JESSIE LAY IN HER HOTEL BED, STARING OUT THE WINDOW at the big fat snowflakes drifting past the parking lot light, and decided that four years was way too long for a girl to go without being kissed. Or be asked to dance. Or almost get picked up in a bar.
    And three years was way too long to have only a dog to cuddle up to at night. “No offense, Tobes,” she whispered to her sleeping pet as she absently stroked his head. “But for as handsome and strong and gallant as you are, you’re not exactly the man I had envisioned myself growing old with.”
    Someone like Ian MacKeage came closer to her vision, though. He was definitely tall and solid and handsome, as well as interesting and attentive and a really good dancer. He was also quite considerate, considering he hadn’t tried to pressure her into going home with him even after he’d found out Merissa certainly was game.
    Unless he’d thought odd Jessie Pringle was okay for an evening’s entertainment but not for taking home. Except he’d kissed her like he had wanted more. And by God, she’d kissed him back once she’d gotten over the surprise of feeling his mouth on hers.
    Would she ever make love again? Was there a man out there smart enough to see past her physical and emotional scars, and strong enough to want her anyway?
    Lord, she hoped so. But she wasn’t about to hold her breath waiting for him to show up. And if someday she did meet such a shining example of brain and brawn, Jessie hoped that she would be brave enough to let him past the defenses she’d spent the last four years erecting.
    She couldn’t explain to anyone—not even herself—why she’d chosen Pine Creek as the place of her reincarnation, other than the fact that she’d nearly worn the ink off that TarStone Mountain Ski Resort brochure. Its pictures had captured her immediately, making her wonder what it would feel like to live in such a rugged, powerful place—which is exactly why she’d thrown it in the trash the first time she’d caught herself believing all that power could be hers for the taking. She’d tossed it away several times, actually, only to find it sitting under a bunch of papers on her desk the next day, or in her briefcase a week later, and one morning she’d even found it on her nightstand.
    She couldn’t escape that damn brochure any more than she could deny the spark it had ignited inside her, despite all the resistance she’d run into when she’d started talking about moving. Just visit Maine, her parents had suggested, or move back home to New York if she wanted a change. It’s too far from needed services, her physical therapists and doctors had argued, certain she’d regress if she walked away now. “Are you out of your friggin’ mind?” Merissa had shouted when she’d told her.
    But every time Jessie had picked up that brochure . . . well, just holding it seemed to give her the courage to do and feel and be more than a scar-riddled, hollow shell of her former self. Until finally it had empowered her to turn in her resignation, put her house—that she hadn’t lived in for four years,