Snowbound Cinderella by Ruth Langan

even conferred with his agent before scheduling their wedding date, so that there would be no conflict with his film commitments. And then he’d betrayed her by notifying the press of their plans.
    She pressed a hand to her temple to blot out the unpleasant thoughts. They always gave her a headache, and this time was no exception.
    By the time Jace stepped out of the bathroom, Ciara had the coffee table set for two and was just sliding the omelette onto a platter. He was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. His face was clean-shaven and his hair glistened with droplets of water.
    “I see my timing is perfect.” He set aside his shaving gear and breathed deeply. “If breakfast tastes as good as it smells, I’m going to be one happy man.”
    “Men and their stomachs.” She laughed. “You can pour the coffee while I check on the toast.”
    She speared perfectly browned toast from the coals and set them on a plate. As she turned, she saw Jace add just a pinch of sugar to her coffee. Her day got a little brighter.
    She divided the omelette, and passed him the toast. “Dry. The way you requested.”
    “What a conscientious chef you are.” He took his first bite of omelette and sighed with pleasure.
    “Just paying my dues.”
    He took two more bites before he could slow down enough to talk. “I’ll give you a chance to get even.”
    “You’re darn right, you will. And I intend to wait until you’re so tired you can’t see straight. Just the way you did to me last night.”
    He set his fork down with a clatter. “Are you accusing me of cheating, Ms. Wilde?”
    “Of taking advantage of your opponent, Mr. Lockhart.”
    He grinned, picked up his fork, and continued eating. “All’s fair in love and cards.”
    “That’s war. And that’s exactly what this has become.”
    “Okay.” He lifted his arms in mock surrender. “I surrender. At least for now. Truce?” He stuck out his hand.
    “Okay. Truce. For now.” She accepted his handshake.
    A bolt of lightning would have been less shocking. They pulled apart and ate in silence.
    Finally Jace sighed. “This is the best omelette I’ve ever tasted. And to think you did it all over an open fire. Will you marry me and cook my breakfast every day of my life?”
    She couldn’t help laughing. “It would be a lot easier on you if you’d just hire a good cook.”
    “All right. Will you give up acting and come to work for me as my cook?”
    Her laughter grew. “You couldn’t afford me.”
    He sighed. “You’re probably right. But I’d certainly be the envy of my friends. Just think— Ciara Wilde cooking omelettes. Making eggs Benedict. And once in a while, French toast.” He arched a brow and gave her a sly smile. “Speaking of French, maybe I could buy you one of those sexy little French maid uniforms.”
    “Uh-huh. You’ve got great fantasies.”
    “And you’ve got a great body, Hollywood. I can already see you in that little black number. With maybe nothing more than a big bow in back.”
    She shot him a sideways glance before draining her coffee. “You’ve been cooped up too long. Yourbrain’s turning to mush. You definitely need to get outdoors and chop wood…or something.”
    “It’s the, ‘or something’ I’d like to consider. Want to play in the snow?”
    “That does it.” She stood. “I paid my debt. The dishes are your responsibility.”
    “Where are you going?”
    “Into my room. To work on my screenplay.”
    “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather play in the snow?”
    She tossed him a kitchen towel and strolled into her bedroom. Over her shoulder she called, “A word of advice. Find an outlet for all that nervous energy.”
    “But that’s what I was—”
    “A constructive outlet,” she interrupted. “One that doesn’t involve me.”
    “You’re turning into a real drudge, Hollywood. You’re no fun at all.”
    Ciara wandered out of her bedroom, notebook in hand. Hearing a strange sound outside, she walked to the window. Jace