Snowbound Cinderella by Ruth Langan Page A

had actually taken her advice and was splitting logs. She stood, mesmerized by the sight of him. He’d removed his parka and had rolled the sleeves of his shirt. The muscles of his arms and shoulders rippled as he swung the ax over his head, then brought it biting into the wood with such force that the log split into pieces. Jace set aside the ax and added the wood to the neat pile, then set another log in place and repeated the process.
    She felt her throat go dry as she stood perfectlystill, watching. He was so ruggedly handsome, so competent, he took her breath away. In fact, she realized, he was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. From the slightly mussed hair to the perfectly sculpted body. From those deep, soulful eyes, to that quick, heart-tugging grin.
    He’d tease her unmercifully if she ever expressed such thoughts aloud. But it was the truth. And the more she watched, the more she was tempted to feel that strength. To have those muscled arms around her, holding her, stroking her. To have that strong, hard body pressed against her, and that warm, clever mouth on hers.
    She stood a moment longer, then spun away, breaking the spell. What was the matter with her? It had to be this enforced idleness. She had run away two weeks before her wedding with no plan in mind except to escape the media circus. But now that she’d had some time to think, she was beginning to fantasize all sorts of crazy things.
    One wild fantasy was that she could step back from celebrity life, and actually make it as a screenwriter. The thought of spending long hours like this, alone with her thoughts, out of the spotlight, was the sweetest dream of all. But could she? Could she make enough money to keep herself and her family as comfortable as they were now? Or was she only fooling herself?
    She thought of the frightened little teen who had arrived in Los Angeles without knowing a single soul. She’d never told her family of the hellish nights she’dspent alone, crying her heart out, because she’d been scared to death and there was no one she could call on for help. She never talked about the endless modeling sessions, when she’d gone without food for days, living on nothing more than an apple or a box of raisins. She never talked about the strenuous workout sessions to stay in shape. Others saw only the glamour of her life, covered by the press. The movie premiers. The expensive house in Malibu that she’d bought as a refuge from the public, but which had turned into a money pit. She had kept all the fears and all the tears to herself, sharing only the good news with her family and friends.
    Could she face a major life change again? She thought she was stronger now. But maybe she was only fooling herself. What if she risked it all—and lost? Who would look out for her mother and brothers then? They’d come to depend on her. How would they survive without her help?
    She dropped her notebook on the table and hurried across the room to slip into her parka and boots. What she needed, right this minute, was a brisk walk to clear her mind.
    When she yanked open the door, Jace was just coming up the porch with an armload of logs. He gave her a wide smile. “Now that’s what I call eager. I guess you missed me, didn’t you, Hollywood?” When he caught sight of her face, his smile faded. She was as close to tears as he’d yet seen her. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
    “Nothing. I just need some air.”
    He watched as she raced down the steps and headed toward the snow-covered hills. Then he nudged the door closed and deposited the logs on the hearth. After tending to the fire he hung his parka on a hook in the closet and kicked off his boots.
    The last of the coffee was still simmering on the coals. He poured himself a cup, held a match to the tip of a fresh cigar, then noticed the notebook on the table. He picked it up, leafed through, and realized it was Ciara’s screenplay.
    So this was what had occupied her time for the better part of the