Page 38 of Stranded with the Resort Owner

"Exactly." I murmur. "And if I'm not perfect, I lose value. If I fall apart?—"

"You're human." He says simply. Then he reaches for my hand, collecting it in his.

I look at him. The way firelight softens his profile and carves shadows across his jaw.

"And that's allowed?" I ask, only half-joking.

He doesn't smile.

"It has to be."

"That's terrifying." I manage a shaky laugh.

"Most worthwhile things are." His thumb traces circles on my palm, sending shivers up my arm that have nothing to do with cold.

The fire crackles, throwing shadows across the cabin's walls. Outside, the world remains frozen, but in this small space, something is thawing—not just between us but within me.

"My turn for a confession." Lucas refills our glasses. "This resort is struggling financially. I've poured everything into renovations, believing success would follow if I built something special."

"Has it?"

"Not yet." His honesty surprises me. "We have good summer bookings, but winters are lean. This wedding could change that—exposure in all the right publications, word of mouth among the social circles that matter."

Understanding blooms. "That's why you're so calm about the setbacks. You need this to succeed as much as I do."

He nods, firelight playing across the angles of his face. "Different motivations, same goal."

"Partners by necessity." I raise my glass in a small toast.

"Could be worse company to be stranded with." His smile holds warmth that seeps into places long cold.

We talk as the fire burns lower, sharing stories of professional triumphs and disasters. I tell him about the celebrity wedding where the bride's train caught fire (quicklyextinguished, crisis averted). He counters with the corporate retreat where the CEO's secret affair with the CFO became painfully public. The wine bottle empties as laughter fills the cabin.

When I finally set my glass aside and attempt to stand, my legs have stiffened from hours on the couch. Lucas rises first, extending his hand.

"Careful." He steadies me as I wobble. "The floor's uneven here."

His warning comes too late. My foot catches on the edge of the rug, sending me pitching forward. His arms wrap around my waist, preventing a fall but drawing me flush against his chest. My hands brace against his shoulders, feeling the solid strength beneath the soft flannel of his shirt.

Time suspends. His heartbeat pulses against my palms, strong and slightly accelerated. My own races to match it. Unlike our previous encounters—raw and primal, driven by physical need—this moment carries a different weight, a tenderness that terrifies me more than desire ever could.

His eyes search mine, asking a question I'm not sure I want to answer. One hand rises to cup my cheek, thumb tracing the curve of my lower lip gently.

"Amelia." My name emerges as a whisper, a question, a prayer.

When it comes, the kiss bears no resemblance to the hungry claiming of before. This is achingly tender, a soft press of lips that asks rather than demands. I answer without thought, leaning into him, my hands sliding up to cradle his face.

The contact deepens gradually, a slow melting rather than a conflagration. His arms tighten around me, not with possession but with reverence. My fingers thread through his hair, learning its texture, memorizing the spot at the nape of his neck that makes him sigh against my mouth.

We break apart slowly, foreheads pressed together, sharing breath in the quiet space between one moment and the next. The fire has burned to embers, casting the room in a soft, golden light that seems to exist outside of time.

"That was..." I struggle to find words for something I've never experienced before.

"I know." His voice holds wonder that matches my own.

Something fundamentally shifts between us—a boundary crossed that has nothing to do with physical intimacy and everything to do with vulnerability. In his arms, feeling the gentle press of his lips against my temple, I'm in danger of losing more than my professional distance.

I'm in danger of losing my heart.

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