Nobody's Business (Nobody Romances)

by Gina Ardito

  Now every turn of the skis made him stronger, more secure, and ready to tackle the enigma that was Lyn Hill/Brooklyn Raine.

  Keeping up his speed, he bypassed the lift line that led to another trip up in favor of the wooden tripod ski racks on the fringes of the base area. He pulled to a stop and used his pole to pop his bindings, releasing his boots from the skis.

  Seconds later, Kerri-Sue pulled up beside him. "Congratulations." She clicked open her bindings, then bent to gather her skis. "I gotta tell you, I had my doubts about you when we first started. But you turned out to be one of my best students ever."

  She probably told every student the same thing, but Doug basked in the praise anyway.

  "Come on." With their skis and poles locked to the rack, they clumped up the wooden staircase to the lodge's outdoor deck. "I could groove on a hot chocolate myself. How about you?"

  He suddenly felt the dryness in his throat and, despite the frigid temperatures, replied, "Something cold."

  A sudden shriek stopped their conversation, and Doug swerved his attention to a growing crowd encircling something or someone at the edge of one of the lift lines.

  "Look over there." She pointed a gloved finger toward the triple chairlift. The circle of people clamored, jumping, reaching cell phones and cameras in the air. "I'm guessing they just found your pal Ace."

  "I'm surprised it took them so long."

  She expelled a generous breath through pursed lips. "I'm surprised it took him so long."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Come on. He's your friend. You should know how he uses his fame to impress the girls. Same routine every time he's here. He keeps a low profile when he first arrives until he finally finds his flavor of the week. Then, suddenly, he's pulling some sweetfaced girl away from the crowd with an `Easy there, everybody. My girlfriend's not used to this kind of attention.' About as subtle as a ten-pound bag of quarters to the face, but the results are the same. Poor girl's seeing stars. At least till the end of the week."

  "And at the end of the week?"

  "He's on to another ski resort and another girl." Cocking her head, she studied him with a hardened expression. "Which begs the question, how on earth can you be friends with such a shallow, callous boy? You're more than a decade older. I don't get it."

  "Oh, well, maybe that's because you don't really know the parameters of my relationship with Ace."

  "And they are ... ?"

  None of your business.

  Hmmm ... Probably not the best reply. He'd have to stick with the same story he gave to Lyn. Safer that way, anyway. The fewer lies he told, the stronger his disguise remained. "Ace and I aren't friends. We're more like business colleagues"

  "Yeah, that's what Richie said when I asked him too. And that tells me a whole lotta nothing." Her eyes glittered like ice chips. "Maybe I should just Google you."

  He kept his face a mask of nonchalance and shrugged. "Go ahead. If you dig deep enough, I bet you'll learn all the nittygritty details. Really important stuff like the name of my kindergarten teacher, my grade-point average in college, and my shoe size."

  "Actually, I learned a lot more than that."

  His limbs itched to squirm, but he dug in his heels-literally and figuratively. "Oh? Found out my favorite movie too?"

  "Not quite. Did you know there's actually a reporter for The Sportsman with the same name as you?"

  The dryness in his throat spread to his bloodstream, and sweat broke out on his neck. But he kept his expression bland, his tone light with a lilt of conversational surprise. "No kidding?"

  "No kidding. Got me curious. So I called The Sportsman's office. Know what I found out? Seems that Doug Sawyer's been on hiatus after a Humvee accident in Iraq."

  "Wow. That's quite a coincidence."

  "Ya think?" she retorted. Shaking her head slowly, she sighed. "You know, ordinarily, I'd kick your butt from here to Montpelier. But Richie Armstrong is no idiot. He would have checked you out thoroughly before giving you the green light for the program."

  "So?"

  "So I'm gonna let it go for now. But ..." Expression hard as granite, she bounced an index finger near his face. "Watch yourself. Obviously you're here because you need to be here. And like I said, despite your rocky start, you've become one of my best students ever. Now you and Lyn seem to have something going between you, which is nice. If it's for real. If it's not for real, this town will take you apart piece by piece."

  If Lyn stood any closer to the lodge's enormous natural riverstone hearth, her hair would catch fire. Already, smoke clung to her ski jacket and sweater. Despite the blaze of heat behind her, shivers racked her bones and prickled her skin. Her stomach flipped like a member of Cirque du Soleil. Even with her gloves off, her palms dampened with sweat. The buzz of a hundred conversations occurred around her, but she barely heard them over the thunderous pounding of her heart.

  Only two things could stir up these symptoms. And flu season was still a month away. The blood in her veins effervesced, making her feel lighter than air.

  She owed this topsy-turvy feeling to the man she'd just spotted seated in the lodge. Admitting her attraction, even if just to herself, released a tremendous weight from her shoulders. If she stood on a precipice right now, she knew she could fly.

  Perhaps his size drew her gaze to him immediately. Douglas Sawyer was built like a professional linebacker yet moved with graceful purpose. Kerri-Sue sat beside him, her expression stern while she attempted to hold what Lyn assumed was an in-depth conversation. If Doug was listening to whatever Kerri-Sue attempted to tell him, he did so while he scanned the throngs at the lunch tables packing up their gear.

  His eyes found hers and locked there as a wide smile spread across his cold-roughened features. Never allowing his focus to stray from her, he rose. Sidestepping the extended legs of skiers who removed boots, duffel bags packed and ready for departure, and coolers of iced drinks, he strode straight for her.

  The closer he came, the warmer she grew. His hazel gaze, bright and intense, bathed her in strong golden sunlight. Finally, he stood in front of her, the Big Bad Wolf now resembling Prince Charming.

  "Lyn." He bent and kissed her cheek.

  A spark flashed in her heart, then skittered like a lit fuse through her veins. "Doug."

  "I'm glad you came."

  So am I.

  Kerri-Sue, out of breath, stopped behind Doug and poked her head out from around his waist. "Oh, thank God you're here. If he stopped at the last hill on Snow Can-Do to look for you one more time, I would have skewered him on my ski pole. You'd be having Doug kebabs for dinner."

  Lyn's sappy side, long dormant, woke up warm and eager. "He was looking for me?"

  "For at least the last hour," Kerri-Sue replied. "Trust me. I'm glad you came."

  The windburn on his cheeks made discerning his flush nearly impossible, but even in the dim light and dark wood paneling of the ski lodge, Lyn noticed the subtle change and melted a little more.

  "That seems to be the general consensus," she admitted. "Besides, if I'd dared to try to back out, my sister would have dragged me here by my hair."

  He looked around the large open room. "Where is your sister? Kerri-Sue and I should probably thank her too."

  Lyn giggled at the disgruntled way he said Kerri-Sue's name. "April's somewhere outside. Wanted to hook up with her fiance and kids. They're here to ski, and their vacation week is almost over."

  "Well, you two have fun." Kerri-Sue waved her walkie-talkie. "Doug, I'll radio one of the guys to stow our gear in the SkiHab center until tomorrow. Me? I plan to show off what an idiot I am. In public. I've got a meeting with my son's math teacher tonight. The kid's barely skidding by, grade-wise, and I'm no help at all. I can do the basics: adding, multiplication, division. Once Nate started bringing home Greek theories and square roots, I was lost."

  Another sigh, a pathetic headshake, and Kerri-Sue shuffled off toward the employees' lounge, leaving Lyn facing Doug.

>   His eyes captivated her-sometimes green, sometimes gold-but always appraising and approving. Her shivers had disappeared, replaced with the languidness of a sauna's warmth. Time stilled. The noisy lodge dissolved into a cozy oasis for her and Doug alone.

  Alone with Doug in a room crowded with apres-skiers. How on earth could he make her feel like they were the only two people in this lodge with just a look?

  Finally aware that they simply stood and stared at each other like empty, mismatched bookends, Lyn shook herself out of her stupor and filled the silence. "So ... what do we do now?"

  He blinked and cleared his throat. "Would you mind coming back to my condo with me? At least so I can get Norm?"

  "Norm?" Her happiness aura cooled several degrees. Had she somehow mistaken his invitation? Did he plan to set her up with a friend?

  He shook his head. "Not Norm like Norman. Norm like normal." He grabbed the cuff of his empty sleeve and wagged it near her. "Before we have dinner, I'd like to attach my prosthesis."

  Rather than restoring her excitement, his admission only depressed her more. "You still think the lack of an arm makes you abnormal?"

  "No." He unzipped his heavy jacket. "But I'm betting you're not wearing a ski bib and four layers of clothes underneath your coat. The prosthesis is just the beginning. I'd also like to get out of this gear and into some regular clothes. In fact, I wanted to run something by you. And please, if it makes you uncomfortable, say so."

  The chills returned, weak but evident. "What?"

  For the first time since he'd strode toward her, he looked away, focusing his attention somewhere above her. Or beyond her. Definitely not at her.

  "Well," he told the stone hearth, "like I said yesterday, I'm not really comfortable behind the wheel just yet. Which is why I thought it might be better if your sister dropped you off here today. But I didn't really think it through. Because I hate the idea of you going home by yourself in the dark after dinner. So I thought, if it's all right with you, we could go to my place and order something delivered. Then Ace could drive you home afterward."

  She didn't know whether to be touched or humiliated. Was he really concerned about her welfare, or did he have some other reason to suggest they spend the evening with Ace? Maybe after their last date, he thought she'd bore him silly. Sure, between the long day and the painkillers, she hadn't exactly been the most scintillating dinner companion. But she'd slept until well after nine this morning and had even skipped her afternoon prescription dose, preferring to deal with the occasional twinge of pain rather than a continuous cloudy, fuzzy feeling.

  Maybe he worried that they had too little in common to maintain a decent conversation? The hotshot sports rep and the provincial little innkeeper? Of course, they had more in common than he knew. He had no idea she was more than just the owner of a rural bed-and-breakfast. Which, of course, was her fault. She wondered how he'd react if he knew who she really was. Not that she'd tell him.

  Or ... would she? Could she trust Doug with her secret? The idea terrified her, but logic chastised her. For heaven's sake, the man worked for Ace Riordan, a celebrity whose star burned far brighter than hers these days. Besides, by now, who really cared about her anyway? Maybe Mrs. Bascomb was right.

  Here she stood, on the border of uncharted territory. For too many years she'd hidden away, buried her heart. Now, oddly, this complex giant of a man had found a way to reach her. Did she want to meet him halfway? Because if she did, she'd have to be honest with him. About her past, who she used to be.

  She had to tell him. Tonight.

  "Lyn?" he prompted.

  Still pondering her own dilemma, she hesitated. "Umm . . ."

  "Ace won't be there for dinner," he said suddenly, reminding her of the topic of their conversation. "He'll probably be wining and dining some poor unsuspecting girl with stars in her eyes. At least, that's what Kerri-Sue believes. But he's usually back around ten, if that works for you. And since I have Ski-Hab accommodations, all the local restaurants offer delivery. Anything you want, from Alpha-Bits to zeppoles."

  Alpha-Bits and zeppoles?

  He'd rehearsed this speech. No one came up with AlphaBits and zeppoles at the drop of a hat. Which meant, despite his "only if you're okay with it" speech, he really wanted her to agree to his request.

  She thought back to their last dinner, also a take-out meal in a private location. The scene with the soupspoon took center stage in her mind, followed by his comment moments ago about getting "Norm," and the mental lightbulb clicked on. He still wasn't comfortable in public with his prosthesis.

  Her heart wept for his insecurity, and she blinked to clear sentimental tears from her eyes. Offering him her brightest smile, she exclaimed, "That sounds perfect, actually. Not the cereal or the sugared dough balls, but maybe we could come up with something in between?"

  Relief eased the tension lines around his eyes, and his confident grin returned. "Order anything you wish. If the restaurants around here don't have it, I'll have it flown in for you."

  Doug held her hand as they strolled through the miniature village of boutiques and art galleries that separated the ski area from the slopeside lodgings. Evening had already devoured the last slice of sunlight. Replicas of carriage lanterns on arched steel poles illuminated the walkways in a soft lithium glow.

  In honor of the upcoming holidays, decorative evergreens planted in waist-high wooden hogshead barrels twinkled with the glow of white fairy lights. Instrumental Christmas carols played from speakers hidden in artificial poinsettia plants and fiberglass deer. Roasting chestnuts cloaked the more natural, clean sting of snowy air.

  "Every time I walk through here, I feel like breaking into a chorus of `It's a Small World After All."' Doug cocked his head in her direction. "You know? From the ride at Disney World?"

  With a wistful smile, she nodded. Yeah, she easily understood the comparison. Cedar A-frame buildings with open gingerbread scrollwork and Pennsylvania Dutch hex signs over the doorways were supposed to make the tourists think of some rustic Scandinavian ski town. But since Lyn had spent oodles of time in rustic Scandinavian ski towns, she thought the architects had simply taken every quaint detail from a dozen different mountainous areas and created a mishmash. Or some weird Hollywood version of Alpine life. The Sound of Music meets The Sundance Film Festival.

  She stared at a young couple standing in front of a glassenclosed case of gears that boasted the ability to create a sou venir from a coin. Put in fifty-one cents and get back a flattened bit of copper with a vacation scene stamped into it. Judging by the way the woman stood with her hands on her hips and her companion's equally combative stance, the two couldn't agree on what scene should be pounded into their penny.

  She shook her head. Hmm ...

  On second thought, most of the tourists had the same point of reference as the architects. So she bit her lip and swallowed her distaste while she walked through this little homage to the almighty dollar. One thing life had taught her-don't sweat the small stuff.

  "Have you ever been to Disney World?" Doug asked.

  She shrugged. "Sure. I took my niece, Becky, when she was six or seven."

  Despite her conversational tone, the memory punched her in the gut. After Michael was born, she'd offered to take Becky on vacation as a favor to April and Peter. At least, that was what she told anyone who asked. She had taken Becky off their hands so they could figure out how to deal with Michael's problems. But the truth, which Lyn had suppressed for years, was far uglier.

  April had announced her pregnancy around the time she and Marc had learned the severity of his cancer. Envying her sister's good fortune, Lyn couldn't bring herself to find a sliver of happiness for April. Unfortunately, Michael's birth, and the devastating diagnosis, left them all reeling. Guilt pounded Lyn's conscience day and night. What if her negativity had brought this massive misfortune on April and Michael? Unable to face her sister, or the poor infant who'd borne the sting of her jealousy, Lyn had swooped in to ta
ke Becky out of town without ever stopping at the hospital to see her new nephew.

  Yet, a few years later, when Lyn kept her vigil at Marc's bedside in Sloan-Kettering's intensive care unit, who showed up first to lend support and an extra pair of hands? April. Who came every day, brought food, offered to run errands, and generally became the shoulder for Lyn to cry on? April. April with the heart wider than an ocean. Dependable, reliable, endlessly forgiving April.

  "Something wrong?"

  Doug's question snapped Lyn into the present, to the village square beneath the Black Forest-style clock tower, where she'd released his hand and stopped to stare off into space. Into the past.

  "No. I'm fine." At his continued scrutiny, she shook off the bitter memories with a violent shiver. "Just cold."

  "Come on." He took hold of her hand again, squeezed her fingers. "Let's duck inside one of these shops for a minute."

  He pulled her toward the etched glass door below a red-andgreen-striped awning that bore the name Bear Necessities. Since he seemed in no rush to release her hand, she sidestepped to take the lead. She turned the latch and pushed open the door. With a tinkle of sleigh bells, they entered the shop. The smell of turpentine nearly knocked her to her knees.

  Around them, like an ursine dragnet, stood hand-carved wooden bears. Hundreds of them. The thick dark sculptures reflected every possible moment in a bear's daily life, from first yawn and stretch to curling up for sleep at the end of a grueling day in the forest.

  Doug stopped to gape at a ten-foot bear on its hind legs, front paws stretched upright and mouth opened to reveal sharp, pointy teeth. "Do people really buy these?"

  Lyn bit back an indulgent laugh. The tourist market made little sense to those who lived in the real world. "Yes. Burt Jennings, the sculptor, makes quite a good living from this store alone. He also does ice sculptures. In fact, every year he creates a Winter Wonderland in town to raise money for Ski-Hab. It's amazing. Giant angels with wings that form arches over the cobblestone path. You walk beneath those wings and it's like you've stepped into another world. Forget Disney World. There are fairy tale castles guarded by toy soldiers, nutcrackers, ballerinas dressed up to perform Swan Lake. All carved out of blocks of ice. We should take a ride over there after dinner. It'd be worth whatever grief Ace gives us, trust me."