He put the car in Park and shut off the ignition, then looked over at her.
“Holy crap,” she whispered, staring at the lodge. “This place is huge.” She turned to stare at him. “You own all this, and the apartment in Vancouver?”
He nodded. And he was on the cusp of buying another property, too, though that wasn’t quite a done deal and he hadn’t said a word about it to anyone but Callum. He’d had a meeting on the twenty-third, just before Christmas, and hopefully all that was left was to officially sign the papers and take possession once all the environmental inspections were completed.
“You really are rich, aren’t you, Jack?”
He raised his eyebrows, surprised at the blunt question. “Was there ever any doubt?”
She shook her head. “Not really, not with how big Shepard Sports is. But you just...well...you don’t act rich.”
He knew it was a compliment. And it was something he made a point of—not letting success go to his head or change who he was. His jaw tightened a little, remembering how it felt to be on the receiving end of a man who wasn’t afraid to throw his power and control around. Only then it hadn’t been about money. It had been something entirely different. It had been about possession and dominance and it had altered Jack’s life forever and in ways he hadn’t expected.
Sheila had come to him and shown him the bruises. Jack had been so angry. So filled with rage. She was a lovely, gentle woman who deserved better. And this was at the hands of the man who was responsible for Jack’s day-to-day training.
She’d convinced him to stay. That she needed him, and that he needed to train hard for the next Olympics. Their secret turned to more—to an affair—and Jack had been stuck firmly in the middle. He’d promised to find a new coach after the current season, to take her with him, keep her safe....
He’d let her down so badly. He frowned, pushing the memory of his failures aside. “Let’s get inside and get you settled, then I’ll give you the grand tour. Tomorrow we can run into town and pick up some groceries and other necessities.”
Together they got their bags out of the back and then Jack led the way up the steps and unlocked the door.
He watched as she crossed the threshold, put down her bag and gaped.
She was charming. There wasn’t a pretentious, fake bone in her body. It was marvellous, seeing things through her eyes as she took them in for the first time. The past was the past, he reminded himself, and couldn’t be changed. Maybe he’d lost the innocent, trusting part of himself but that didn’t mean it didn’t still exist in others.
His harsh introduction to reality had led him to the life he had now, and it was a good life. Sometimes he forgot how good, but he was reminded when he looked at Amy. She was enchanted, and by extension, he found her enchanting.
He found himself wishing they’d never struck the “no touch” bargain.
For better or worse, they were here. And for the next several days, he’d just have to keep temptation locked up. Amy had plans. Far be it from him to ruin them. This time he’d keep his promises. He wouldn’t let her down.
* * *
SHE’D NEVER SEEN a house like this in her life.
Directly in front of her was a wide-open great room with soaring ceilings, an enormous stone fireplace and heavy wooden beams. Stairs climbed to another level and a railing overlooked the open foyer, bedecked in swooping evergreen boughs and red bows. A Christmas tree sat in the corner, a good twelve feet tall if she had her guess. The furniture was rugged, constructed of heavy wood and sturdy fabrics, and suited the grandeur of the house perfectly. To Amy, it felt like a cross between a log cabin and a rustic castle.
“Sorry about the lack of heat,” Jack said from behind her. “Once I get the bags in, I’ll get a fire going in the stove.”
She spun around, still in awe of her surroundings. The fireplace faced the long sofa, but the huge flue also serviced a black iron stove on the opposite side. “You’re not going to build one in the fireplace?”
He shrugged. “The woodstove throws better heat. The fireplace is better for atmosphere.”
Clearly, he was siding with the practical here and away from having atmosphere with her. That was fine. Maybe in the evening she could light one and curl up with a book and a glass of wine....
Suddenly uncomfortable, she stepped farther inside so he could shut the door. It wasn’t right that she was picturing such an indulgent scene when the deal was she was here to work. Not have Jack wait on her or lounge around drinking wine that he’d bought.
“What should I do first?” she asked.
He chuckled. “Wait here while I bring in your suitcase. I’ll light a fire and take you on a tour of the house.”
He was back in moments, deposited her case next to the door and shrugged off his jacket. “You want to hang these up while I get the wood?”
“Sure.”
She hung up their coats and put her boots on a rubber mat then chafed her arms as she went farther inside the room. Jack kneeled in front of the heavy woodstove, adding little pieces of kindling until the fire caught. “There,” he said, sitting back a bit. “Another minute or two and I’ll add some logs. Once it really gets going I’ll turn the damper and before you know it we’ll be toasty warm.”
“Is wood your only source of heat?”
He shook his head. “Nope. The back of the house is south-facing and last year we put in solar panels. That’s how we heat all our hot water, which also does our in-floor heating. Cool, right?”
She nodded and smiled at him. “Or hot, depending on how you look at it.”
“There’s something to be said for reducing our footprint. I like the wood heat in the winter, though. I didn’t have the heart to take it out. But little by little we’ve been making some sustainable changes.”
“Oh?”
He stood up and brushed his hands on his jeans. “We expanded the vegetable garden, for example,” he said. “Most of the vegetables we serve come from right here on the ranch. The beef certainly does. We buy locally for whatever we can—chicken, pork, out-of-season produce. Jeff and I—he’s one of the hands—have talked about putting in a greenhouse, too. It would be awesome to have our own stuff during the winter.”
“Are you turning into a farmer like your brother, Jack?”
He crossed his arms. “I don’t know. Maybe. I love the sports thing and can’t see giving it up entirely. But this is home. It makes me excited.”
“You like to build things, face new challenges. You get bored easily, don’t you?”
The smile slid from his face. “That’s awfully perceptive of you, considering you don’t know me very well.”
“Contrary to popular belief, I’m good at reading people.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Give me an example.”
Was he upset at her for her insight? It seemed clear as day to her. He’d competed at an international level in his sport. When that had ceased to be an option, he’d built himself a business empire. Once that was well on the way, he’d bought this place. She wondered what he’d do when he got bored with it. Or did his jumping around from thing to thing keep him from getting too close to people? She got the feeling that there was Work Jack and Private Jack and not many people got to see the private side.
He wanted proof that she could read people? She smiled. “Well, for example, at the wedding when I danced with Rhys. I knew he wasn’t