The Rascal by Lisa Plumley

Author:Lisa Plumley [Lisa Plumley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781408908440
Publisher: Mills and Boon
Published: 2009-09-14T16:00:00+00:00

The impact wasn’t as alarming as Grace expected. Probably, she realized shortly, because she did not thud directly into the snowbank. Instead she landed atop Jack.

His whole body cushioned their fall. She encountered broad chest, warm knees and strong hands, all before painfully clonking foreheads with him. The impact reverberated through her skull, cushioned merely by her hat. She winced and yowled. Jack only grunted—as usual—then rolled her safely beneath him. Dazed, she required a moment to realize they were no longer careening downhill but had come to a stop.

They lay crookedly on the snow, both panting hard. To her left, pine trees rose valiantly, capped with white and bowed with the weight of their wintry coats. To her right, a drift shielded the rest of the hill from her vision. She saw nothing beyond Jack’s black hat, which had landed askew in the snow, doubtless knocked aside in their fall.

Fearfully, Grace craned her head—just as her riderless sled zoomed between two trees. It crashed to a stop in a tangle of fallen oak branches some thirty yards away.

“See? I told you we’d crash in the trees!”

“We didn’t crash in the trees.” Jack directed his gaze from her sled’s resting place to her, then raised himself on both elbows above her. He looked unfazed by their near collision. “No thanks to you, Miss Hundred-Pound Boots. I got us off that sled just in time. Now if you’d let me steer from the start—”

“Let you steer?” Incredulously, Grace regarded him. Aside from the obvious, was he intimating that she had gigantic feet? “You haven’t the faintest notion how to steer!” she replied hotly. “That much is clear to everyone.”

His mouth straightened. “I had a plan.”

She scoffed. “A plan to kill us both?”

“Pshaw.” Appearing downright invigorated by their ride now that he’d had a moment to recover, Jack brought his hand to rest on her shoulder. He grinned. “I heard you hollering. You were having fun until you decided to take over.”

Stung, Grace hesitated. Had she been hollering? With glee?

“I don’t generally have ‘fun.’ Ask anyone,” she informed him to the contrary, not wanting to consider the matter of her potential rowdiness any further. “And I always take over.”

“Not with me, you don’t.”

“Oh? Is that right?” Vigorously, Grace wiggled her legs, trying to get free. As it happened, she was pinned beneath Jack’s tall frame and didn’t manage much progress. The sensation wasn’t wholly unlikable though—and no one could see them in their surprisingly sheltered spot—so she decided to rest awhile. To regain her strength for the trek to retrieve her sled. “Well, I’ll have you know, you’ll get no special treatment from me.”

Jack audacious grin widened. Something about it made her belly flip-flop. He still touched her shoulder, his thumb now moving in slow circles over the bulk of her coat. Was he checking for injuries? The gentleness of the gesture was especially peculiar given the way she frowned at him. It was even stranger how his warmth—his touch—penetrated all the way through the thick wool.

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