LITMIR.BIZ

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got the feeling that Hope McKinnon was a pro at losing herself in her job. They had that in common, then.

      Her lips twitched. “Something like that. It’s not something I’d want to do on my own, if ever. I’m only thirty. I haven’t really thought much about the whole marriage and kids thing.”

      There was something about the way her gaze slid from his that made him think she was lying. “Building your career, I suppose?”

      She brightened. “Of course. I love what I do, and with all the long hours and the travel it’s not really conducive to husbands or kids. Anyway, I still have time, right?”

      Her smile was bright—possibly too bright.

      “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “How much time do any of us really have?”

      “You’re a great one for philosophical questions, Blake.”

      “I have a tendency to overthink.”

      She put a hand over her mouth in feigned surprise, then dropped it to her lap. “A fault? Surely not? I was starting to think you didn’t have any.”

      “How could you possibly know in less than twenty-four hours?”

      “Oh, I’m a quick study. Occupational hazard. And you’re an easy read.”

      Something inside him started to warm as he realized with some surprise that they were bantering. Was she flirting? Hard—no, impossible—to believe. “Are you teasing me?”

      “I am. You’re awfully serious.”

      “That’s what I thought about you.”

      She shook her head. “No. I’m focused. Big difference. I know I probably seemed serious yesterday, but really I do know how to have fun. I know how to relax. Who wants to walk around stressed all the time? I like my job, my apartment, my social life. No worries and all that.”

      They were silent again for a few minutes, but then Blake had to ask the question that was burning in his mind. “If that’s true, then why does it seem you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders?”

      And there it was. That flash of vulnerability. Just for a moment, but there all the same. Hope might put on a strong, capable show but underneath there was more. A lot more.

      And Blake knew that unfortunately he had a soft spot for birds with broken wings. Seeing as he’d been one once upon a time. He should take her back to the house and keep it strictly business from here on out. But Hope McKinnon was intriguing. The face she showed the world wasn’t the real Hope, was it?

      Hope hopped down from the rock. “I’m cold. I’m going to walk around a bit and take a few pictures.”

      He let her go, holding back the observation that she’d said she didn’t do landscapes. He watched as she took her camera out from beneath her jacket and moved around, studying angles and light as she snapped. The camera was what had dug into his back on the drive out, he realized. He liked watching her in action. Her face took on a determined set as she focused. But he noticed too that she frowned a lot, a crease forming between her brows. That search for perfection again?

      He looked around him at the splendor of the Rockies. It never failed to catch his breath and fill his soul. What could she find to fault in such a magnificent creation?

      He hopped down, too, now that the cold of the rock was seeping through his lined pants, making his butt chilly. “What’s the matter?” he called, wading through the snow to where she stood, glaring at a particular peak.

      “It’s not right. The lighting is wrong. With this cloud, that side of the mountain is going to be too shadowed.”

      “Can’t exactly control that, right?”

      “Exactly. This is why I don’t do landscapes and nature shots. There are too many variables. I like to be able to set it up, get the conditions right.”

      “Yet in all that planning you still haven’t found the perfect shot?”

      The look she threw in his direction was annoyed. “No. Not yet.”

      “I think I know the problem,” he said, starting to smile. “You’re missing the magic.”

      Her mouth dropped open. “Did you just say magic?” She made a sound that was both sarcastic and dismissive. “There’s no such thing.”

      “And that’s why you haven’t found it. You’re a nonbeliever. You can’t organize perfection. You can’t plan it. It just happens. And when it does, it’s magic.” Confidence filled his voice.

      “You’re talking nonsense,” she said, shutting her camera off and tucking it back inside her jacket.

      She zipped up the coat right to her neck. If she’d been vulnerable before that was all gone now. Instead she was defensive. He supposed she had a right. He did seem to enjoy challenging her, and they barely knew each other.

      “I’ll bet you that by the end of your time here you’ll have your perfect photo, and it won’t have a thing to do with planning or staging the scene.”

      She laughed—a sharp sound in the stillness. “That’s an unfair bet. I’d win.”

      “What if I win? What do I get?”

      She stalked back to the snowmobile. “It won’t matter anyway. I’ll take your pictures, Blake. I’ll do promo shots for the ranch and the program. But I think I’d rather stay somewhere else. This is your private home. I don’t belong here. I’m going to make some calls and book into a hotel in Banff.”

      Blake stared at her. He’d really struck a nerve if she couldn’t even stand being in the same house as him for a few days. And, while the whole arrangement had been odd from the beginning, he was somehow a little offended that she was so desperate to leave.

      Not that she was actually going anywhere. This close to Christmas there wouldn’t be a room to spare in the resort town. She was stuck here even if she didn’t know it yet. And he wasn’t about to be the one to tell her. He doubted Ms. McKinnon liked to be told anything. She could figure it out on her own.

      “Can we go back now? I’m getting cold.”

      “Sure,” he answered.

      They got back on the snowmobile and he started the engine, revved the throttle and turned them around, heading back to the warmth and comfort of the ranch house.

      As they glided over the rolling hills Blake thought about all she’d said, and what she hadn’t. If he were a betting man he’d guess that she was a workaholic and she was lonely. Hope was in some serious need of holiday cheer. Problem was, he was the last person able to give it to her.

      * * *

      Hope hit the “end” button on her cell phone and scowled at the display. That was the fifth hotel she’d tried and there were no vacancies anywhere. She didn’t even consider calling the Banff Springs—she wasn’t hurting for money, but the hundreds of dollars a night price tag was definitely out of her budget for a ten-day stay.

      She should have known. Major resort town, so close to the holidays... She was going to be stuck here at Bighorn.

      The thought made her stomach turn nervously. Not just because she’d been borderline rude to Blake up at the ridge and now had to make nice. But because on one level she’d actually enjoyed talking to him. She’d let down her guard for a few minutes and had nearly told him about Julie, nearly mentioned her family. For a moment, as she’d stared at the awe-inspiring peaks and snowy valleys, she’d been tempted to confess that the weight on her shoulders, her search for perfection, came from years of trying to make everything right, to create a perfect family that had never existed and never would.

      They’d all let her down. Even Julie. Hope had thought to create her own special family, based on love rather than genetics. But the result had been the same. At the end of the day she stood alone. It was

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