Page 34 of Tempted To Be Mine

I launched another snowball. This one clipped her hip.

“That’s more like it,” she said, grinning now. “But you’re still going down.”

She fired back. I tried to dodge but my foot caught on a buried root and I went sprawling into the snow, laughing.

Lucy appeared above me, another snowball ready in her hand. “Surrender?”

“Never.”

I grabbed a fistful of snow and flung it upward. It caught her in the face. She sputtered, stumbling backward. I used the distraction to scramble to my feet, already running for cover behind our sad little snowman.

“You’re using our child as a shield!” she yelled.

“Every man for himself!”

She pelted me anyway. One snowball. Two. Three. They thudded against my back as I crouched behind our lopsided creation, gasping for breath between laughs.

I peeked around the snowman’s side and immediately took a hit to the forehead.

“Ow! Okay, that one actually hurt.”

“Good!”

“Uncle! Mercy!”

She laughed like a hyena.

I had unleashed a monster.

11

LUCY

The morning had been fun. More fun than I’d had in longer than I wanted to admit. But once it was time to work, the day became a blur of activity that left no room for snowmen or snowball fights. We weren’t here in the frozen tundra to play around. We were here to work.

Jeremy disappeared into wardrobe while I settled into my designated spot near the production monitors. The site wasn’t far from the lodge, maybe a ten-minute drive down a road that had been meticulously cleared of snow. We loaded into a convoy of big white vans, the crew packed in like sardines, equipment filling every available space.

I had to admit, the location was stunning. A clearing in the woods surrounded by towering evergreens. The production team had set up a rustic scene complete with a massive log flipped on its side to serve as a chopping block. I’d never chopped wood, but I guessed the pile of logs neatly stacked next to the block was probably not the way a real mountain man would do it.

Jeremy emerged from the wardrobe tent looking perfect as usual. The suit was impeccable. Tailored to his perfect body. He didn’t even have to try. I sighed and shook my head. I’d seen him in a thousand suits and I was always impressed.

And then someone handed him an axe.

I watched from my spot near the monitors as Sebastian positioned Jeremy beside the chopping block. The female models, three of them in flowing evening gowns that seemed wildly impractical for the frozen wilderness, arranged themselves at various points around the clearing. One draped herself over a fallen log. Another leaned against a tree trunk. The third stood in the background, her red gown a striking contrast against the white snow.

Of course, they were breathtaking. I couldn’t take my eyes off the scene unfolding in front of me. If I thought the wood pile was a little too perfect, Jeremy in a suit holding an axe was almost a bridge too far.

“Alright, Jeremy,” Sebastian called out. “I want power. Masculinity. You’re a man of the wilderness who just happens to be wearing a ten-thousand-dollar suit.”

The jokes wrote themselves.

Jeremy lifted the axe, tested its weight, and then brought it down on a waiting log. The crack of splitting wood echoed through the clearing. I had to admit, it was impressive. The controlled power in each swing made my ovaries clench. This was what he was good at. The ability to embody whatever fantasy the camera demanded.

Right now, the fantasy was apparently “billionaire lumberjack,” and he was nailing it.

Sebastian barked out directions, adjusting angles and poses. The photographers circled like sharks, their cameras clicking in rapid succession. The models shifted positions. Arching their backs without looking like they were doing it. Perfect pouts. The look of indifference. It was cold and they looked like they were standing under a warm sun. Not a goosebump in sight. I had no idea how they managed it. Magic, probably.

I didn’t really understand the creative vision here. Sebastian had explained during the brief. The elegance of high fashion against the raw power of nature. Civilization meeting wilderness. Honestly, it sounded like pretentious nonsense to me, but I wasn’t the target audience. My brain was wired for spreadsheets and contracts, not artistic concepts.