by Dani Collins
He had been lured by a windfall travel bonus three years ago. It had been enough to get his wife and son out of her parents’ garage apartment and put a nice down payment on a house of their own. He had left for the pipeline job and returned to money in the bank, but no wife in his bed. Wanda had moved herself into the home of a woman he’d never met. She had fully expected to keep their toddler son with her.
Nate didn’t have an issue with homosexuality, but he was still incensed that Wanda had married him knowing in her heart she preferred women. He could almost forgive her for not coming out to him before he proposed and married her. To this day, her parents hadn’t come to terms with her orientation. He understood why she had kept that secret for so long.
But she had had his baby knowing their marriage was doomed and their little family would come apart at the seams. This, after he had made it clear before he even proposed that it meant everything to him to give his child a stable foundation.
And, rather than telling him she was ready to live her true life, she had slept with Frankie behind his back. The gender of her partner didn’t matter. Infidelity was infidelity.
He continued to feel tricked and cheated and lied to.
Before he could come to terms with any of that, before he had even found a new job local to Sacramento—something that would pay the bills and give him the time he needed for shared custody—Wanda had announced she was moving to Montana.
Frankie, Wanda’s new girlfriend, was a nurse-midwife. She had been on the hiring list for the clinic in Haven for three years and hadn’t wanted to turn down the opportunity once her chance arrived. Frankie’s grandfather owned a house on the edge of town that the pair could buy for a song. Wanda wanted to start a preschool there. Both women believed the town would be thriving in a few years, thanks to rumors the local ski hill would be starting up again.
Nate hadn’t been convinced the women were serious about each other, let alone ready to settle permanently in a mountain village. Winters were cold here. Wanda was Californian, born and raised. She wouldn’t last, even though she had claimed to have visited Haven and loved it. When she had urged him to try getting a job with the resort, he’d damned near refused out of spite, sorely tempted to force her to stay in Sacramento.
He’d looked into the resort more to find a way to dissuade her from the move. The PM job hadn’t been a clear fit for him. He had never been responsible for anything so big and complex. Structures were one thing. The scope of building a mini-town around a network of people-moving equipment was like trying to wrap his brain around the universe accelerating as it expanded.
Still, as he’d read up on the ambitious venture, he’d seen years of steady, interesting work in one place. If the money was there. If the construction milestones could be met on time, on budget.
All challenges he thrived on.
Rolf had been leaning toward hiring a PM who would have commuted from Germany with the rest of the consultants while Rolf lived on site. Rolf had skied damned near every resort in existence as a competitive Alpine racer. He knew exactly what he wanted. His brother, Trigg, was still dominating the snowboarding world, and was equally determined to put his personal stamp on Whiskey Jack Resort’s snow park.
Nate had thrown his hat in the ring with a frankness he might not have risked if his relationship with Aiden hadn’t hung in the balance.
If I don’t have a job, I don’t see my son, he had told Rolf. You won’t find anyone as motivated to make this happen on your terms.
Rolf had gambled on Nate’s drive and they had just passed a year in a working relationship that was as much side by side as it was boss-employee. They’d shared beer, sarcastic banter, and the odd scramble to recover from minor disasters. Nate stayed on top of his workload, gave a hundred and ten percent, offering Rolf no reason to complain about the time he took to spend with Aiden.
This was as good as it got, under the circumstances, but he was still bitter. Wanda wanted another baby? Seriously? He tightened his hands on the wheel in sheer frustration.
“Fu-udge,” Nate muttered as he reached the lodge and started to turn into the staff lot. It was also unplowed. The tractor was sidelined under the streetlamp in the corner. The engine hood was open and a couple of guys were scratching their head as they peered in. “Looks like I’ll have to change and get out here to help. I’ll pull around front so you don’t have to walk through this.”
“You’re such a gentleman, Nate.” Moments later, Vivien clung to the arm he offered after helping her from the truck, letting her hold on to him as they made their way up the slippery walk to the entrance. “Your mother should be very proud of raising such a good man.”
“She died when I was young. I don’t really remember her,” he said, even though he remembered distinctly when she hadn’t come back for him and his sister, despite promising she would. “My grandparents raised me. Grammy would skin me alive if I let my manners slip.”
“Like swearing in front of ladies?” Her tone held laughter at the ‘fudge’ he’d managed to substitute at the last second. “Here’s news. I’m not actually a lady, but be sure to tell your grandmother I appreciate you treating me like one.”
“Will do,” he promised as they stamped their feet on the grate. He reached to open the door for her. It was locked. “I’ll walk around and let you in.”
“Ilke will open it,” she said, pointing through one of the blurred panes of glass in the door.
Ilke. A kick of pure, carnal hunger landed in his gut and shot heat through his limbs. That was before he actually caught sight of the blonde rising from the sofa near the fire. She set aside a book and moved toward the door with athletic grace. He absorbed her smooth gait and the way she flicked back her hair and tilted her head, briefly peering through the glass before she unlocked the doors and let them in.
A smile of anticipation pulled at the corners of his mouth.
Chapter Three
No coffee, no alcohol. Ilke avoided sugar out of habit, so no soft drink. That left ice water or herbal tea. She had gone with chamomile, even though she was already having trouble staying awake.
Lina, the barista, delivered it to her in the lobby, then disappeared into the kitchen where she was prepping what she warned was a limited dinner menu. Ilke had heard a couple of workmen on her floor when she had gone to her room, but otherwise hadn’t seen anyone else.
Welcome to the Overlook. Were all those creaks and groans the boiler’s pressure valve?
At least there’d been a lobby copy of Glory’s book, Blessed Winter. Ilke sat in front of the fire, trying to concentrate. Romances were usually her escape of choice, sweeping her away to pirate ships and corporate penthouses and erotic dungeons. Sexy or filthy, sweet or heart-wrenching, she read it all. She had already read this one on her tablet the day it came out. She loved it, but couldn’t get into it today. The tick of the clock was too loud.
What was she going to say? Hello, Nate. Can we talk?
What if he had his son with him? What if he didn’t want to talk to her? What if he thought she wanted to marry him? What if he wanted to marry her?
She didn’t want to get married. Ever. She wanted to ski. That’s why she wanted to leave the baby with him.
What if he said no?
He wouldn’t. She had seen him with his son. Last summer, she’d watched him help his boy throw a stick into the pond for Trigg’s dog. This winter, he had returned to the lodge one afternoon from seeing family over Christmas. His son had been fast asleep on his shoulder. The way he’d held Aiden had been so casually tender, her maternal instincts had quivered under the permafrost like a seed sensing spring. Nate was a father in the way fathers were supposed to be. Loving. Involved. Protective.
He would want this baby. She was sure of it. That’s why she was here.
But what if he didn’t?
Oh, she had never worried so much about someone else’s mindset in her life. It made time crawl and she even dozed to make it pass. Then sudden
ly, she heard voices at the door.
It was dusk, but she easily recognized Vivien’s creamy complexion and well-modulated voice, even heard her say her name. Ilke started to smile with relief as she opened the door, then realized Vivien was with—
“Hello.” She fought to keep her smile in place and unaffected while an uncharacteristic shyness made her heart wobble. Her throat felt hot and her blood expanded in her arteries. Dragging her gaze to meet Vivien’s was difficult, and not just because Vivien’s eyes were narrowed in sharp curiosity. Ilke wanted to look at Nate, gauge his reaction to seeing her. She wanted to simply look at him. “Did Rolf tell you I was here? How are you?” She tried to act totally normal.
“Well enough, all things considered. It’s good to see you.” Vivien took her in a light embrace, touching their cheeks briefly. “Are you settled in?”
Ilke liked Vivien, but still had to consciously remind herself not to reflexively stiffen at being touched.
“Undocumented, but I have a room, thank you,” she said as they drew apart.
“Good. Let me put away my purse and change my shoes. I’ll come down and have a drink with you. We’ll catch up.”
“No hurry. It sounds like it’s been a difficult day.”
Ilke took that into consideration as Vivien headed for the stairs, leaving her with Nate. He wore a leather aviator jacket and a flat, gray cap with a brim cocked to the side. It should have looked like an old man’s hat, but he was so casually sexy he took her breath. Her blood was rocketing through her veins faster than she plummeted down a hill.
“Were you at the service with everyone else?” It was a lame conversation starter, but all she had. The half-smile on his mouth made her feel like she was watching the sun rise, feeling the heat begin to warm her face, the brilliance threatening to blind her in a second, but she couldn’t look away.
“Literally everyone. What brings you back here? You’re not with Rolf’s group tomorrow are you?”
There was the wide-open opportunity to blurt out her news, but she was breathless under the look he was giving her. She was used to men casting glances of avarice. She usually knew how to defuse and deflect them, but this was different. The tone in his voice and the heat in his dark brown eyes wasn’t objectifying. It was pleased, taking a leisurely tour of her throat framed by her open collar, dropping to her narrow-legged corduroy pants tucked into calf-high boots, catching on her breasts very briefly before coming back to scan her features like he was reacquainting himself with a place he loved to visit.
“No, I—” Her brain checked out. Her skin tingled as though his perusal was a caress. Her heart rolled over with a sensual throb. All of her grew melty and stricken with longing for things she couldn’t even identify.
For some bizarre reason, this man didn’t just stir her hormones. He stroked them into wakeful neediness before piercing deeper and driving the want higher, stealing her ability to think.
She hadn’t consciously thought about having sex with him while she was here, except maybe to dismiss the idea. It would only muddy an already murky situation, but quite suddenly she was flushing with desire, thinking, Yes, please.
She shouldn’t be surprised. The first time she had seen him, he’d been in the lodge’s basement gym, sweaty and ripped, intensely focused on what he was doing. He hadn’t even glanced at her and she had felt like this, loose in the knees, willing to get naked with him right then and there. Trigg had been there, so she’d controlled herself, but the same undeniable lust had driven her to invite Nate to her room on New Year’s Eve. Now that she knew what a generous and thorough lover he was, her skin tingled all the harder with anticipation.
But she also had a flash of yearning for something beyond, something so far out of reach, she knew better than to entertain it. One dream, she reminded herself and tried to pull herself together.
Then he glanced toward the lounge and said, “I watched you race. We had the big screen going the whole time.”
Oh, terrific. It was enough humiliation to shut down all her wayward thoughts.
He rubbed his stubbled jaw. “Looked like you had some tough competition.”
“I’m pregnant.” She sent a quick glance around and up, ensuring Vivien was gone and no one else was within earshot. “I just found out. That’s why I wasn’t at my best.”
It still seemed like a pathetic excuse. Like she was making excuses. She felt sick all over again.
Her news took him aback. He actually rocked as though buffeted by a strong wind. Something flashed in his eyes that she couldn’t identify before he put on an easy, if distant smile.
“That’s great. Well, except the part where it affected your skiing. That could have been dangerous.”
She smiled flatly, waiting for him to connect the dots.
“So who—”
He cut himself off, processing the tone she had used, the way she held his gaze, heart lodged in the base of her throat. Her pulse was hammering there with panic.
The lightness in his expression faded to shock. Alarm. Horror.
“No,” he said with enough force to charge the air with danger. As if that tiny word could erase reality.
Good luck with that.
She refused to cower under the growing accusation in his stare. She folded her arms across her chest and made her spine stretch tall toward the high ceiling. Her tender breasts gave a little throb of protest while her throat tightened, but this wasn’t her fault. It just was.
It still took everything in her to stand there while her arteries sizzled with adrenaline. Her muscles twitched, screaming at her that they were ready for use. Go, go.
“Is this a joke?” Oh, that tone was deadly. Bone-chilling.
“No.” Her voice was a dry creak.
He swore. The low, sharp word pierced like a bullet. Both his hands curled into fists.
Gathering more courage than she ought to need, and hiding that there was a weeping damsel deep inside her, desperate for a savior of some kind, just once, she lifted her chin and made herself look him in the eye.
Her heart died at the blame she saw there. Was it outright hatred? Definitely every level of suspicion and loathing. His eyes were filled with something furious and bitter that made everything in her shrink tight behind the internal shields she had taken her whole lifetime to construct.
Above them, a door closed.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Ilke turned to force a smile at Vivien as she came down the stairs.
Behind her, a gust of snow-scented wind blasted against her, pushing goose bumps onto her skin as Nate charged into the night.
*
“Is Trigg here?” Ilke asked as she and Vivien entered the lounge. She pushed her hands into her pockets to hide the fact she was shaking.
“Europe. Getting ready for Italy.” Vivien moved behind the bar, but her gaze slanted like a magnifying glass swiveling to capture and throw an intense ray of sunlight. “Why? Does your being here have something to do with him?”
“Not at all,” Ilke said firmly, seating herself on the stool nearest the window, and forcing a casual smile, even though she was still reeling under Nate’s appalled reaction. “Just that I’d rather not advertise where I am and he’s likely to talk to people we both know.”
“Why are you here, dear? Don’t take that as a lack of welcome. I’m always delighted to see you. You know that. Stay as long as you’d like. I’m surprised is all. I would have thought you would have places to be.” Vivien spoke kindly as she set out two wineglasses. “I realize Korea was a disappointment, but you still have a shot in Norway, don’t you?”
“Not this year.” Ilke lifted her hand in mute rejection of alcohol, knowing it would give Vivien the answer she was seeking. She then tucked that quivering hand under her thigh.
As Vivien took a moment to read her expression, Ilke tried to portray indifference. No one was invited into the tower where she locked her emotions, but the backs of her eyes were hot. Vivien’s mouth pursed and her
cheeks went hollow.
“Well,” she murmured. “That’s news.” She put away the wineglass, then folded her forearms on the bar, plumping her breasts against the low neckline of the elegant gray sweater-set she wore. “Tell me Rolf has nothing to do with your being here, either.”
“Absolutely nothing,” Ilke assured her flatly.
“I couldn’t imagine how he would have found the time. Glory seems to keep him busy and happy, but nice to hear all the same.” She straightened to reach for a tall glass and gave it a polish. “I suppose if it’s not either of my boys, it’s not my place to ask who might be your reason for dropping off the circuit and coming here.”
She left a nice long silence, inviting Ilke to fill it as she efficiently poured soda water over ice before adding a dash of bitters, then a squeeze of lime.
Ilke was still stinging from Nate’s reaction, which kept her from saying his name. In fact, until she knew he was on board with this baby, she wasn’t going to talk about it with anyone. But if he thought she was going to slink away, now that he’d made his displeasure clear, he had another think coming. She was a competitor. That meant she was at her best when she was scared shitless.
“That always settled my stomach.” Vivien slid the drink across.
Bitters had alcohol, but Ilke didn’t say anything. Voices were approaching.
People trickled in over the next hour, staff who’d been at the service, returning to the lodge where they lived in unfinished rooms and worked to finish them or had jobs at the resort base, shoveling or acting as security, flagging trails for clearing once the snow melted or monitoring avalanche conditions.