In the Firelight

  To my own crazy kiwi, my Pimp Shell, who read

  Little Conversations and seemed to think I was worth

  pimping. And to my baby SmutSister, my bedazzling

  partner-in-crime and roomie this July.

  Can’t wait to see you bitches in Edinburgh!

  She found him on a snowy night.

  He sparked her desires and inflamed her dreams.

  Independent and feisty, Shea Madison has a tussle on her hands. Living in and loving her quiet little corner of Montana, she’s fiercely determined to fight a real estate developer trying to turn her quaint little mountain town into a touristy ski resort. So, when an outsider shows up to study the effects on the area, she instantly attempts to sway his impression… even if it means a little harmless flirting with the enticing visitor.

  Rhys Weland’s charade has one purpose—to bring the locals around to the idea of the resort, primarily the ringleader, Ms. Shea Madison. Embroiled in his deception, he’s stunned by the feelings she draws from deep inside him. Her integrity and sincerity quickly have him second-guessing his twisted morals. Her spirit arouses his soul. Her sensuality steals his breath.

  In the dark of the night, in the warmth of the fire, the passion smoldering between them combusts. But just when it all seems to make sense, one small stubborn mistake shreds the fragile bond between them.

  Will an impetuous act reignite their flame, or will their love vanish like sparks in the air?

  © 2013, Sibylla Matilde

  SibyllaMatilde@gmail.com

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the Sibylla Matilde.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. With the exception of the original material written by the author, all songs, song titles, and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1 ~ The Cabin

  Chapter 2 ~ The Target

  Chapter 3 ~ The Guest

  Chapter 4 ~ The Store

  Chapter 5 ~ The BFF

  Chapter 6 ~ The Meeting

  Chapter 7 ~ The Bar

  Chapter 8 ~ The Escape

  Chapter 9 ~ The Night

  Chapter 10 ~ The Fire

  Chapter 11 ~ The Morning

  Chapter 12 ~ The Dress

  Chapter 13 ~ The Dinner

  Chapter 14 ~ The Library

  Chapter 15 ~ The Surrender

  Chapter 16 ~ The Truce

  Chapter 17 ~ The Awakening

  Chapter 18 ~ The Betrayal

  Chapter 19 ~ The Anger

  Chapter 20 ~ The Conscience

  Chapter 21 ~ The Goodbye

  Chapter 22 ~ The Spring

  Epilogue ~ The Dream

  Music that inspired the story

  Excerpt from Broken Truth

  Acknowledgements

  About Sibylla

  Prologue

  Her hands closed over his cock, gripping tightly as he pressed her up against the copy machine.

  Rhys had just been followed into the copy room by Becky, the newest little doe-eyed intern. The girl had only been here for a week, but she’d been casting super-fuck-me-raw eyes at him since her first day in the office. She was actually rather embarrassingly obvious, bordering on skanky. That said, every other jackass in the office had been sniffing after her, so he figured he’d take one for the team and try her out. It had been a while since his last ‘job’ and, after being lured by her not-so-subtle invitations, he’d kinda been aching to nail her sweet little ass… any sweet little ass, actually.

  Her soft voice mewled in his ear as he slowly grazed his fingers along her slender, bare thigh to raise her incredibly short skirt. He caught a glimpse of her itty bitty silky red panties before he tugged her leg up to his side and pressed his hardness against her.

  Becky’s arms reached around his neck to flatten herself tighter against him and, for a moment, her perfume was overpoweringly strong. He lifted his head to get a breath of clean air, and she took the opportunity to press wet kisses down his throat as she rubbed up against him.

  His hand was just about to dip into the wetness between her thighs when McHugh stuck his head in the door, not even blinking at the compromising situation before him, and told Rhys to meet him in his office… immediately.

  Fuck… what shitty timing.

  Rhys tossed a seductive smile down at the slutty little intern, and tapped her on her pert little butt. “Later, Becky…”

  “Promise?” she asked, running her fingers down her hips to smooth her very short skirt.

  He chuckled. “You’re sweet, but I’m not one to make promises.”

  “Rhys…” she pouted.

  “We’ll have to see…” he said with a lascivious grin as he strolled out of the room.

  “What’s up, boss?” he asked as he sauntered into McHugh’s office and plopped down in the chair, smoothing his dark hair back from his forehead.

  Rhys had been working for McHugh Corporation, a multi-million dollar development firm based in Portland, Oregon, for the past eight years. He’d been hired on as a promising architect right out of college, although his role quickly morphed into what could only be called corporate debauchery. While Rhys was phenomenal at designing and planning buildings, McHugh had found that his killer smile and sexy charisma had even more strategic uses, smoothing the way for the developer’s plans, charming and screwing his way through resistance to McHugh’s projects. Rhys’ father would be horrified if he knew what kind of man he had become, one of the many reasons he tended to avoid any conversations with the old man.

  McHugh looked over his bifocal glasses, twisting his mouth into a wry grin.

  “Well, first of all… I’d appreciate it if you’d quit trying to hump the new intern. She’s actually a rather talented protégé, but you’ll have her crying sexual harassment as soon as you get bored. Keep your smooth moves out of the office and save them for the clients.”

  Rhys shifted uncomfortably in his seat, still feeling the ache of blueballs tight against his pants. Apparently McHugh didn’t realize that he was the game in this little hunting expedition. But he’d think about trying to get Becky to back off… maybe.

  “And second, put away your suits for a while and dig out your winter gear. I’m sending you to Montana… to a little town called Snowcreek. It’s along the west side of Flathead Lake. Perfect, and I mean perfect, place for my new resort. I can make it bigger and better than Tahoe. And the time,” McHugh banged on the desk for emphasis, “is now. Their economy is hurting because logging went to hell with the housing market crash and the pine beetle infestation.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard all about it from my dad.” Rhys grimaced as he sat up straight and smoothed his tie. “He’s like a damn broken record.”

  “Well, we’ll come in, clear out some of the dead trees, and build a five-star resort. I’ll never get a better chance to sway public opinion, to get the land so cheap. To give jobs to some of those poor folks. And make a shitload of money doing it.” McHugh grinned widely, lighting a cigar and drawing on it deeply, piping the smoke out into classic little rings. “The only problem is, som
e of the locals aren’t too keen on the idea. That’s where you come in. You’re from Montana. You know what the place is like. This should be a piece of cake.”

  “Montana is a big state, McHugh,” Rhys laughed. “I’ve never even been to this neck of the woods.”

  “Big state with a small population. You’ve got connections there. You know the people.”

  “Uhh… sir, not everyone in Montana knows each other.”

  “Maybe not, but you know how they think. You grew up there. Throw on a flannel shirt and some jeans, and you can fit right in. You know how to communicate with them. You, my boy, can charm the pants right off them. You really are quite gifted that way.”

  “Great, you want me to go charm the pants off a bunch of lumberjack women. Women named Olga who have hairy upper lips and big buck teeth and unibrows. That’s awesome,” Rhys scoffed, causing McHugh to laugh heartily.

  “Well, if anyone can make a lumberjack feel like a lady, it would be you. I’ll need you to really work it when you get there. Most of the folks are kind of ambivalent. They aren’t getting too excited about it one way or the other. There’s not really anyone there who’s dying for it to happen. Some shit about retaining their history and keeping their quaint little town the way it is. And then there’s this one in particular, some little bitch that grew up there, lives back in the mountains. She’s made it her mission in life to keep my resort out. So, I recommend you put your smooth moves to work. You know, flash that panty-dropping smile, wink those baby blues, murmur in her ear, that sort of thing.”

  “Fuck… you make me sound like such a whore,” Rhys smiled.

  “If the shoe fits, pretty boy…” McHugh chuckled. “And I think you’ve tried it on plenty of times to know it does. You’ve done a lot of good work for me. Just think, it could be worse. Not all jobs have the perks this one does. You’re certainly never lonely.”

  Rhys chuckled. “Yeah, true. I like it better, though, when you’re planning these places in warm climates where I can check out the body before I really have to hit it. Cold weather means big muscly chicks who wrestle bears and moose and shit. There’s a reason I left all that behind, McHugh.”

  “Rhys, you left Montana when you were just out of high school. You were looking at this all through the eyes of a boy. You may just find the job not too bad after all. I’ve seen a few pictures of this little squeaky wheel. She’s actually not that bad. No model, by all means. But I’ve seen worse. For that matter, you’ve done worse.”

  Rhys nodded and smiled with a heavy sigh. “Fine… you know I’ll go anyway. I don’t know why you even bother to make it sound like a question. But I think I should get hazard pay for this one. Those Montana girls can be quite a handful, in more ways than one.”

  McHugh laughed. “Rhys, my boy, you pull this off, and I’ll buy you a vacation on a nude beach in the Caribbean.”

  “I’ll hold you to it,” Rhys grinned. “So, who is this squeaky wheel, anyway? If I’m going to have to butter her up, I’ll at least need to know her name.”

  “Might help.” He smiled and opened a file, pulling out a slip of paper covered in text with a blurry, almost featureless picture up in the corner. He handed it to Rhys. “Her name is Shea Madison.”

  Chapter 1 ~ The Cabin

  My God, it was fucking freezing! Rhys watched the snow pile up on the hood of his little rental car, aggravated by the sheer quantity of it as the world slowly darkened around him. A faint cast of moonlight poured through the clouds from time to time, and the flashing indicator of his hazard lights was beginning to imprint on his brain.

  He was stuck in a ton of snow. On the side of the road. For God only knows how long. In a fucking Prius that shouldn’t even be on this road in good weather. The car was the last vehicle at the rental place. He really should have just waited for something better. And, of course, back in the mountains like this, there was no signal whatsoever on his cell phone. He felt like a complete ass.

  It had been years since he’d driven in weather this bad, but it hadn’t even been snowing when he left the little town. The sign a while back had only said twelve miles to Lost Lake, but twelve miles on a mountain road could take forever. And then, as though higher powers were conspiring against him, the heavy, wet snow began to dump. Why the fuck hadn’t he checked the weather reports?

  He knew better. Storms could come and go so fast in the mountains. This one seemed to have come quickly and was now just hovering over him. As though it was simply trying to make his life harder. Visibility was shit, and the already covered dirt road began to become more treacherous as darkness quickly fell. Rhys had forgotten just how dark it could get, and how rapidly.

  Already frustrated for having to be out in the middle of fucking no-man’s-land, Rhys had felt the right front tire catch in the shoulder of the road. Even at the snail’s pace he had been travelling, the deep snow covering the embankment had sucked him into the barrow ditch like a giant magnet. Pushing and pulling and digging the snow out from behind the tires was useless. He was pissed as hell. And really fucking cold.

  Shit!

  It was no use. He’d never get the car out on his own. And he’d be a freakin’ idiot to try and walk anywhere, especially in the dark. He had no idea how far out he was. He remembered a house at the turn-off towards the mountains, but the dark and the freezing temperatures gave him pause. His best bet was to stay with the car.

  After what seemed like forever, a flicker of light in the rearview mirror caught his eyes. Holy shit! Headlights? Really? Who the fuck would be coming out here this time of night?

  It looked to be a big truck, exactly what he had wanted from the rental agency, what he had argued for, practically pleaded for.

  In a frigid daze, he watched the lights come closer, their glow filtered by the frosty windows, until they finally stopped on the road beside him. He scraped the icy layer off the window and looked through it to watch a short bundle of winter gear pile out of the big pickup and stumble through the deepening snow. The form drew closer, coming right up to the driver side window. Rhys scraped off a little more frost to clear the view of his savior. Deeply buried beneath a heavy knit hat and scarf and reflecting the dash lights of his car, he saw the most intriguing pair of hazel eyes peering down at him with concern.

  He hit the button to roll down the window, but it didn’t move. It was frozen shut. He reached for the door handle, but the door opened before he touched it, and the hazel-eyed, bundled-up form began to speak in an angelically sweet tone.

  “What the fuck are you doing out here?”

  Hmmm… Maybe not so angelic after all.

  Taken aback by her harsh tone, Rhys instantly felt defensive. Keep it mellow, Rhys, he coached himself. Think before you talk. “Well, it’s, uh… not like I really planned to sit here freezing my balls off.”

  “Fucking tourists…” the heavyset little form muttered, “showing up for some God-damned winter wonderland and then don’t know what the fuck they’re doing.” She stomped to the back of the car, slipping a little on the steep embankment. “Jesus Christ, you’re high-centered and buried… I can’t even see your axles,” she grumbled as she climbed back up to the hill.

  Standing back on the level surface of the road, her hands on her bulky hips, she stared at him for a moment. With a deep sigh, she huffed, “Well, come on. We’re a lot closer to my place than to town, and the roads are atrocious. I’ll take you there, and we can call Frankie for a tow. As bad as you’re buried and with the steep shoulder, I don’t want to be responsible for the damages if I pull your car out, and, trust me, it can do some damage.”

  Rhys pulled himself from the car, a bit of a feat the way it was perched on the sharp embankment of the shoulder. “I’ll tell you what, sweetheart,” he sarcastically grumbled down at her short form. “I’d hate to be a burden, so why don’t you just slide your little ass into your truck, toodle yourself home, and call for a tow truck. I’ll wait here.”

  “Are you fucking out of y
our mind? You’re going to freeze to death waiting. Either that, or you’ll become asphyxiated the way the snow is quickly burying your little car. I don’t want that shit on my conscience. So, you,” she poked at his chest with a thick-mittened hand, “get in the damn truck.”

  With that, she turned on her heavy snow-booted heel and stomped to the driver side of her pickup. As she rounded the vehicle, she glanced back at him and stopped. Holding out her arms to her sides with frustration, she gave him a what-the-fuck-are-you-waiting-for look. “Well?” she grumbled.

  Rhys reached down the incline behind him to grab the keys, shutting the car door behind him. When he turned back around, she was already in the truck, her heavily-clothed little form just a shadow in the dimly lit interior. Rhys slid and skated his way across the slippery road to the passenger door and opened it to see a huge, furry form with brown eyes staring at him suspiciously.

  “Wolfie, get in back,” the woman said from the driver seat.

  The dog didn’t move. He continued to assess Rhys skeptically.

  Rhys murmured, “Um, maybe I should get in the backseat instead.”

  The woman very nearly growled, and the primal sound of her voice sent a shiver of desire straight to his cock. “Wolfie…really… Get. In. Back.”

  Wolfie gave one last watch-it-buster look to Rhys, then climbed obediently into the backseat of the quad-cab truck with a heavy sigh.

  “Jesus, I think that’s the biggest fucking dog I’ve ever seen,” Rhys mumbled to himself as he climbed into the cab of the truck, a bit mystified by the effect her voice had on him. He was totally a manwhore, but he was, in the very least, a little selective. He needed to get laid… badly. It had been a few weeks. That had to be it. That had to be the reason this backwoods little thing with her deep hazel eyes and her husky, irritated voice affected him so strongly. “Wolfie, huh? Like a wolf? He does look wolfish… big wolfish, but wolfish, nonetheless.”