Snowbound

by Larissa Ione

  He shot his friend an irritated glare. “Fuck you.”

  “Hey, I was joking.”

  Sean scrubbed a hand over his face. It didn’t take much to set him off these days, which was unlike him. “I know.”

  “The new job got you wound up?”

  “Like a watch,” Sean said. “What if I screw up? The producers will never hire me on a permanent basis.”

  Todd rolled his eyes. “You’re kidding, right? Who knows more about skiing than you? And once chicks see your mug on TV, you’ll be the most popular sports commentator in history.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “You’re way too stressed. You gotta get laid.”

  Earl set two steaming mugs in front of them, and Sean poked idly at the marshmallows floating on top of his cocoa. His stomach was too knotted to eat now. Announcing the ski competition on national TV was an opportunity he couldn’t afford to mess up.

  Only it wasn’t about the money; it was about putting his life back together, and the possibility that he might fail drove him crazy. He needed a distraction, a release, but Todd’s insistence that the release be sexual in nature wasn’t the answer.

  Then again, maybe it was. His sex life—or lack thereof—was entangled with his crashed professional life. Repairing one didn’t necessarily fix the other, but it would definitely be a step in the right direction.

  He glanced up from his cocoa to see Todd looking around the bar and ignoring his coffee.

  “Change your mind about the coffee?”

  “Nah. I’m finding you a hot babe.”

  Sean sipped his cocoa, relishing the slow burn down his frozen throat. “Did it occur to you that I’m perfectly capable of finding my own ‘hot babe’?”

  “Yeah, right.” Todd cursed. “There’s no one even remotely your type in here.”

  “And what’s my type?”

  “Blonde lap dancers.”

  Sean laughed. That sounded about right. At least, that used to be right. He hadn’t had a date in so long he didn’t know what his type was anymore. The breathing type, probably.

  “Yes! Got one.”

  Todd cocked his head at a bleached blonde woman giggling with two friends near a window. Blondie tossed her long hair over her shoulder and looked in Sean’s direction. Her bright gaze took a leisurely ride down his body and then back up. Her lips parted, and her tongue moistened them with deliberation.

  “There you go,” Todd said with a nudge of his elbow into Sean’s side. “I’ll bet she’s got a room upstairs. Go for it.”

  Two years ago Sean would have had the woman out of her ski bibs by now. Two years ago he didn’t give a damn what or who he did. Two years ago he’d been a different person, and today the woman looking at him with an open invitation in her eyes didn’t appeal to him at all.

  “Not happening.” He turned back to his cocoa.

  Todd’s head whipped around. “Are you insane?”

  Sean had to wonder. He wanted to feel alive again. He needed to feel alive again. A naked woman beneath him could get him there. So why wasn’t he jumping all over the blonde who might as well have sure thing tattooed on her forehead?

  “Excuse me, sir.”

  Sean turned, and all thoughts of the blonde dissipated because he was staring into the most amazing eyes he’d ever seen. Their color, a dark, pure green, reminded him of a pine forest at dusk. Of woodland moss on the mountain’s north face. Of the flannel sheets on his bed. Damn, but the cinnamon-haired beauty gazing back at him would look good tangled in those sheets.

  What the hell? He’d just dismissed a slinky woman who no doubt would have guaranteed a night of steamy between-the-sheets play. And now this woman with uncontrolled shoulder-length hair and very little makeup on her pale, slightly rounded face—the polar opposite of the type of woman he used to date—piqued his interest. Piqued several things, as a matter of fact.

  He swallowed tightly and willed his pulse to slow down. “Yeah?” Brilliant, Trenton. Just brilliant.

  “Is the bartender around?” the woman asked in a sultry voice that sounded like early morning sin. “Oh, never mind. Here he comes.” She gave Earl a smile Sean would kill to have aimed in his direction.

  Earl slid a plate overflowing with fries and a hamburger in front of Sean. “Can I help you, miss?”

  “Lemon drop martini, please.”

  Earl reached for a glass. “You got it. I’ll take it to your table.”

  The woman thanked him and walked away, giving Sean a mouth-watering view of long legs and a curvaceous ass hugged by faded jeans. His pulse spiked higher than it had in a long, long time.

  Todd, still drooling over the willowy blonde in the corner, seemed completely oblivious to her. “Sean. Buddy. Certain body parts are going to start falling off if you don’t use them. You said you’re ready.”

  “I am,” Sean said, sounding idiotically short of breath and not nearly convincing enough. “I just have other things on my mind.”

  “Uh-huh. Chicken.”

  It was a trap. An appeal to Sean’s competitive nature to prove Todd wrong. Funny, but knowing that didn’t stop him from falling for it.

  “I’m ready. Need proof?” Sean nodded at the martini woman, whose lush rear still swung in an enticing rhythm. “I’ll ask her out.”

  Todd stared at him like he’d suggested they use butter to wax their skis. “Who are you, and where the hell is Sean?”

  “What? She’s hot.”

  Todd cast another glance at the woman as she skirted around several crowded tables and plopped into an empty booth next to the fire. “She’s okay, but she’s no lap dancer. Too tame for you.”

  Sean watched the woman wiggle into the seat and imagined her dancing—and more—in his lap.

  Feeling a thrill of anticipation he hadn’t experienced in years, he gave Earl a sharp nod. “I’ll deliver the martini.” The little fox by the fire didn’t know it yet, but his dry streak was history.

  Chapter Two

  Robyn slumped against the booth’s low backrest and stared at her cell phone. No signal. So much for following up on the panicked queries she’d made yesterday to potential replacement emcees.

  With a low groan of frustration, she shrugged out of her jacket and waited for Karen to return from the gift shop. Their room wasn’t ready, so they’d left their luggage at the front desk and settled in at the Moosehead Pub to kill time.

  She’d have to wait until she could use the phone in her room, but hanging out in the bar wasn’t much of a hardship. The fire was warm, the music soft but upbeat, and the aromas of burning wood and gourmet cuisine comforting.

  Then there was the view. Forget the exquisite craftsmanship of the hand-carved furniture, railings and ceiling beams. Forget the massive stone fireplace that rose through the upper pub floors. The view that sent heat prickling over every inch of skin and nearly distracted her from her reunion troubles was that of the two gorgeous ski patrollers at the bar.

  As a teen, she’d been forced to go on class ski trips, and rather than subject herself to the humiliation of riding single in a double-lift chair—because in snow gear she’d been bulked out even more—she’d hidden in the resort’s dozens of cafés and fantasized about the patrollers as they brought injured skiers off the fifty-six runs, their confident competence a turn-on she couldn’t describe. When they weren’t helping someone, they flirted shamelessly with the guests, the employees, the skiers.

  With everyone except her.

  “Lemon drop martini?”

  Shaken out of her past, she blinked her eyes back into focus and opened her mouth to thank the bartender. Only the man standing there with the sugar-rimmed glass in his hand wasn’t the bartender. It was the patroller she’d spoken with briefly at the bar. The one with the inviting honey-gold eyes and the spiky brown hair streaked with blond. He was gazing down at her with a cocky grin that made her heart pound erratically in her chest.

  She felt a sudden urge to ask him if he knew a game called hid
e-the-mitten.

  “Uh, yes, the martini is mine.” She cleared her throat to rid her voice of a sudden squeakiness. “Things around here have changed if the patrollers are doubling as cocktail waitresses.”

  “Well, we did draw the line at wearing skirts.”

  “Too bad. I’d liked to have seen that.” At least, she’d liked to have seen if his legs were as toned and muscular as she suspected. She reached for her purse. “How much do I owe you?”

  “It’s on me.” His grin turned sheepish—and even more attractive, if possible. “Literally. I spilled some on my jacket.”

  He glanced down at the wet spot on his sleeve, and she offered her napkin. “That’ll get sticky.”

  The glass clinked as he set it on the table. “Sticky isn’t always a bad thing.”

  His low, rich voice passed through her like a long-awaited caress. The man was her high school fantasy come true. Her two years with Damon had been emotionally draining. Maybe the time had come to recharge her batteries and take her mind off her troubles with a fun fling like Karen had suggested. So what if flings weren’t in her nature? This trip was about change and discovering herself.

  And about not looking like a moron in front of her former classmates.

  She smiled up at him, wishing she’d put on makeup and done something with her hair instead of taking frump to a whole new level. “Care to join me?”

  “Are you sure?” His hesitation intrigued her. He’d brought her the drink, surely as a come-on, but he suddenly seemed almost…nervous.

  “No, but I’m feeling dangerous today.”

  “Works for me.” The booth seat creaked as he sank down across from her. What would Karen say when she returned and found Robyn sitting with this tanned hunk? She’d be green with envy.

  “Thanks for the drink.”

  “Any time.” He held out his hand. “I’m Sean.”

  For a moment she stared at his long, well-shaped fingers, oddly uncertain. Something told her that once she touched this man there’d be no turning back, no flushing him from her mind even if he disappeared afterward.

  Oh, for heaven’s sake. Enough melodrama. This wasn’t one of her teenaged daydreams where a handsome man had seen beyond her plain, pudgy face to her mind and fallen madly in love. This was reality, and she could flush this guy any time she wished.

  She grasped his outstretched hand and tried to ignore the electricity that sparked at the contact. “Robyn.”

  His gaze jerked up from where their hands met, and as she pulled free, she knew the electric sensation had been mutual. “Are you here for the ski competition?”

  Desperately needing a moment to recover from the tension that arced between them, she sipped her martini and shivered at the bittersweet explosion of citrus vodka on her tongue. “High school reunion, actually.”

  For some reason he looked pleased, and then he frowned. “A winter reunion?”

  “All of the schools around here hold winter reunions. It’s tradition.”

  “Now that you mention it, I think I’ve heard that. Isn’t there some sort of charity tradition, too?” He peeled off his red patroller jacket, and she nearly drooled at how the tight-fitting thermal shirt beneath hugged his broad chest and the sharply defined muscles of his arms.

  Gripping the stem of her glass a little tighter, she nodded. “Every class picks a charity at graduation and holds fund-raisers during their reunions.”

  And she’d been so eager to show off her success that she’d jumped all over the opportunity to put the fund-raiser together. Idiot.

  He gave an approving nod, as well as a killer smile that made her erogenous zones sit up and take notice. Why couldn’t she tear her eyes away from his lips? Probably because they looked firm, sensuous, perfect for kissing.

  “What’s your class charity?”

  She took another sip of her chilled drink to counter the heat working its way through her veins. It didn’t work. “Ski-Do. They fund ski trips for at-risk and underprivileged kids.”

  “I’m familiar with it. It’s a great organization.” He tipped his head, his gaze drifting down to her mouth, her throat, her breasts, and back up, taking so long she almost began to squirm. “What reunion is this for you? Five-year?”

  She rolled her eyes, but secretly delighted in his charm. “I do believe my insincere flattery radar just went off.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. And what a nice laugh it was. She could listen to it all day. But not all night. At night there would be better things to do. Things her sex-starved body hadn’t experienced in a long time. And no doubt Sean knew his way around a bedroom.

  “I was serious. You can’t be a day over twenty-five.”

  “It’s my ten-year reunion, and I’m twenty-eight. Your turn.”

  A group of skiers clomped past the table in a ruckus of loud voices, and Sean nearly had to shout his answer. “My ten-year was a year ago.” The obnoxious skiers moved on, and Sean lowered his voice. “So, how far did you have to come for your reunion?”

  “From Chicago. I’ve lived there for six years. And you? Been in this area long?”

  “I moved here almost two years ago from Montana.” Twining his fingers together over his flat stomach, he sprawled back in the booth with a lazy grace that would have looked insolent on anyone else, but only appeared self-assured on him.

  “So…you’re a ski patroller-slash-cocktail waitress in the winter, but what do you do when the snow’s gone?”

  His amused one-sided grin created an adorable dimple on his right cheek.

  “I pout for a week and then go to work for a private ambulance service as an emergency medical technician.”

  It was her turn to be pleased. No flashy jobs for this guy. Unlike Damon, Sean was perfect fling material. A ski fanatic who worked to support his snow habit. She could practically feel his strong hands, lightly dusted with tawny hair, slide over her sensitive skin, and heady anticipation like she hadn’t felt in months—no, years—made her almost giddy.

  She licked her lips, preparing to suggest they meet up later for dinner or drinks or…dessert, but a voice interrupted.

  “I can’t leave you alone for two minutes, can I?”

  Karen had materialized out of nowhere, was standing by the table, one hand on her hip, the other hand clutching shopping bags. An appreciative smile curved her mouth as she gave Sean the once-over. Then a twice-over. Before things got out of hand, Robyn cleared her throat and scooted over to make room for her friend.

  “Karen, Sean. Sean, Karen.”

  Karen’s eyes flared. “Robyn, uh, where’s the ladies’ room?”

  Robyn pointed to a recessed area on the far side of the bar, but the other woman shook her head. “This place is huge. I’ll get lost. Can you show me?”

  “Show you? Karen—”

  Karen gave her a look that said “Do it or I’ll kill you in your sleep”. Robyn turned to Sean. “I’m sorry. My friend here has suddenly turned into an infant.”

  His mouth twisted wryly. “I have two sisters. I’m familiar with the female instinct to form herds for bathroom trips.”

  Robyn led the way to the bathroom, and once inside, she laid into Karen. “What is wrong with you? He’s going to think we’re nut cases!”

  Karen peeked under the stall dividers. Apparently satisfied they were alone, she straightened and swung around. “Do you know who he is?”

  “Yeah. A hunky ski patroller who is probably making a getaway as we speak.”

  “You really don’t know, do you?”

  A sinking feeling tugged at Robyn’s insides. “He’s just a guy.” Oh, please let him be just a guy.

  Karen caught a glimpse of her sandy, wavy hair in the mirror and paused for an agonizing second to smooth a few strands. “He’s just a guy who won an Olympic medal and has a gazillion product endorsements under his belt.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Robyn sighed, relieved Karen had clearly mistaken Sean for someone else. Her plans for a steamy fl
ing were still on. “Why would he be earning squat as a patroller? And how would you know anyway? You hate sports.”

  “But I love the Olympics.” Karen took a deep breath, and the first stirrings of nausea churned in Robyn’s belly. “I saw a story about him on TV. He won a medal—bronze or silver, I can’t remember—and after that he pushed a bunch of cereal and lip balm. Always had the hottest model or movie star on his arm. Then, a month before he was supposed to ski at the next Olympics, he dropped out of the running.” She paused. “Rob, he was the favorite for the gold in several events.”

  Stunned, Robyn propped a hip against the sink before she fell over. This could not be happening. “Why’d he drop out?”

  Karen shrugged. “An injury, I think.”

  “Are you sure it’s him?”

  Her friend’s nod snuffed out Robyn’s last wisp of hope. “Positive. He looked familiar when I first saw him, but I knew for sure when you said his name.” Karen gave her a sad smile. “If you’re looking for an anonymous boy toy, he’s definitely not it. You couldn’t do worse if you tried.”

  Great. A fling with a guy like him wasn’t worth the aggravation no matter how sexy he might be. In fact, a brief indulgence with Sean would be worse than what she’d had with Damon.

  Flings simply didn’t exist when reminders were thrown in your face every few weeks. Who knew when she might turn on the TV and see Sean in a commercial or as the subject of a news story? Or maybe he’d ski in a future Olympics and become the next media darling.

  Bad enough having to listen to Damon on the radio and see him in his spot on Chicago’s morning show, and on billboard and bus ads.

  “So…what are you going to do?”

  Robyn swallowed her disappointment like a lump of flavorless gum and reached for the door handle. “Well, I won’t be playing hide-the-mitten with him, that’s for sure.”

  Basking in the heat of the fire, Sean chewed on a soggy fry from the plate he’d retrieved while he waited for Robyn and her friend. Todd, who should have been heading to work, had joined the blonde sure thing, but by the looks of it, she’d turned into more of an iffy thing. For all Todd’s big talk, he was the master of crash and burn.