by Larissa Ione
“Karen?”
No answer. She shouted again, hoping the wind had scoured out the thread of panic in her voice. This time she heard a faint noise that sounded like a distant yell, but she couldn’t be sure. Fighting the wind and a growing sense of alarm, she headed toward a thick copse of trees where ski tracks crisscrossed, hoping one of them belonged to Karen.
Visibility rapidly decreased to the point where she couldn’t see beyond a few feet, and fear became bone-numbing terror. She shouted Karen’s name over and over, silently cursing her stupidity at agreeing to take the chute. She’d wanted to jump into life with both feet, but maybe she’d jumped into the deep end too soon. Time to admit defeat and head back to the groomed, well-marked ski runs.
She followed the tracks until they disappeared, swallowed by snow. Where were the marked runs? The blowing and falling snow had obscured her surroundings, and it occurred to her that she might be lost. Trying not to panic, she sucked in a deep breath and looked around. It took several seconds before she realized that the nearly frozen stream curving around twin boulders looked familiar. Her heart gave a kick of relief. If she was where she thought she was, she could ski to the camp area and find a cabin—the very cabin her father had bought.
The bad news was that the cabin was in the middle of nowhere, and in this weather she couldn’t hope to ski out of here. Not tonight.
Disappointment and anger ripped through her at the realization that she wouldn’t be meeting up with Sean at Après Ski, and their night together was ruined. So much for taking risks. It seemed that her personal life was doomed, because up to this point neither safety nor taking risks worked for her.
Teeth chattering, she pulled off her purple fleece scarf and tied it with clumsy gloved fingers to a tree branch, leaving a clue for anyone who came after her. The consequences of failure firmly in mind, she slid toward the cabin, hoping Karen had made it to the bottom safely and wondering how long it would take her to send out that search party.
“What did you say?” Sean froze in the middle of taking off his jacket. He stared at Karen, hoping he’d misheard. Someone bumped into him as he stood next to her table at Après Ski, but he barely noticed. “You lost her? On a Suicide Chute?”
Karen set down her mug of cocoa but kept her hands around the base, where they were so tightly clenched that her knuckles had gone white. “It’s totally my fault. I wanted to prove she could do it. I thought it would be fun. She’s a good skier. She’ll be here soon.”
Her words, spilled in a rushed jumble, rang hollow. Concern etched worry lines around her mouth and eyes.
“Have you checked your room? Other places she might have gone?”
Karen nodded. “I even left a voicemail on her phone. She knows we’re supposed to meet here, so I figured it would be the best place to wait.”
He swore. Robyn was a good skier, perfect in form, but reserved. If she lost confidence in bad weather and on a poorly marked run, she could be in serious trouble. She could be lost, and without a radio or a GPS…
“Damn.” He jammed his arms into his jacket.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to look for her.”
He glanced at his watch. She wasn’t technically missing, so he couldn’t waste resources by calling out a search party, even if his inclination was to call out the entire National Guard. But he did need to hurry. Management had ordered several lifts to be shut down until conditions improved.
“I’m going to swipe a radio from the patrol office and tell the guys to keep an eye out. If she shows up, have someone call me.”
He reached for the gloves he’d slapped down on the table when he’d come inside, and Karen grabbed his wrist. “She’ll be okay, right?”
“Chances are that she skied a trail that took her to another part of the mountain and she can’t get back until the lifts open up. She’s probably hanging out in a warming house or village pub. If she’s still out in the open, I’ll find her.”
He would. He knew the chute Robyn had taken, knew what areas were the most likely ones for skiers to stray when the trail grew indistinct in bad weather.
He left Karen wringing her hands, and after checking out a radio and informing the patrol director of his intentions, he caught the lift that would take him back to The Dark Side. His boss had wanted him to hold off until they could scrounge up a team to go with him, but all the teams were already busy, and Sean couldn’t afford the delay. Not with the night closing in.
His stomach twisted in knot after knot as he exited the chair and skied to Chute Two off the marked run. The snow had gone from heavy to near-blizzard. He prayed Robyn had arrived safely back at the lodge and that he’d somehow missed her.
The deep, ungroomed snow presented a challenge, the blowing snow stung his cheeks, and the biting wind permeated even his thick clothing. He ignored it all. Robyn was his prime concern. Fear and adrenaline kept him warm and carving with aggressive functionality rather than finesse. He wouldn’t win style points on this run.
Sticky snow left wet smears on his goggles, impairing his vision as he skied. He shouted frequently, slowing down in likely places for her to take shelter or be injured.
Nowhere. She was nowhere. He checked his radio to make sure it still worked and that no one had called to say she’d been found. The radio worked.
Where was she?
He hop-turned on an extreme steep and nearly went down. On the next turn, he did go down. Damn, this was getting tough. And if he was struggling…
He had to find her.
“Robyn!” The wind swallowed his shout. He barely heard it himself.
Then he saw it. Something purple and white fluttering at eye level a few feet away. He battled his way to the object, and when he reached out, his heart nearly froze. Robyn’s scarf, so crusted with snow that if he’d passed by just a few minutes later, he’d never have seen it. Thank God. She’d been this way. But where did she go?
Quickly, he worked the knot loose and pulled it from the branch. He could picture the scarf as he’d seen it when they’d been skiing The Dark Side, wrapped around her warm, slender neck. A neck he’d throttle when he caught up with her. And when he was done throttling her he’d kiss that neck, her throat…everything he could reach with his lips.
He brought the scarf to his nose and inhaled deeply, taking in the faint scent that was uniquely Robyn. Welcome warmth oozed through his body, and damn if he wouldn’t give his right arm to be holding her right now. But he wasn’t getting anywhere by standing there.
He shoved the scarf in his pocket. There were several possible routes; one that would take her directly to the lodge, one that circled around the lodge and ended at a smaller ski area from which she’d have to catch a shuttle back, three that intersected with other runs, and one that led into the wilderness and some serious backcountry.
Since she hadn’t yet been heard from, the last route was the most likely. It also happened to be the most dangerous and desolate. Why would she have gone that way?
Leaning into the wind, he struggled forward, wishing darkness would stop closing in. If he didn’t locate Robyn soon, within the next half-hour or so, he’d be forced to take shelter in one of the hunting cabins that dotted the mountainside until he could get help from fellow patrollers.
Cabins. Of course. His brain must have frozen. If she’d come across a cabin, she could have decided to do the smart thing and stay. And if she was injured or suffering from hypothermia, she could be in serious trouble.
Swallowing to dislodge his heart that had jumped into his throat, he forced himself into high gear. He’d find Robyn or die trying.
Chapter Nine
Robyn closed her hand around the sturdy iron door handle, her heart pounding as hard in her chest as the person on the other side pounded on the door. She hesitated for the space of five or six spastic heartbeats, terrified of what she might find standing in the doorway. Would it be a rescuer, or some crazed nut case with an ax?
&
nbsp; “Robyn! Are you in there? Open up!”
Sean! She tugged open the door. He stood there, pummeled by wind and snow, in the darkness broken only by the orange glow of the firelight flickering inside.
“Thank God,” he said, his voice rough, as though it had been scraped over a sheet of sandpaper. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“Ditto.” She blew out a relieved breath. “But as you can see, I’m safe and sound.”
He examined her intently, as if he was seeking injuries to prove her wrong, and then shifted his skis and poles to one hand and used the other to dig her scarf out of his pocket.
He held it out and said gruffly, “At least it wasn’t your underwear.”
At the reference to the bootie tree, laughter burst from her, even though the situation wasn’t remotely funny, and if the grim set to his mouth was any indication, he didn’t think it was amusing, either. Had something awful happened? She hugged her middle tight in a futile attempt to quell the alarm clawing at her gut. “Is Karen…?”
“She’s fine. She sent me.”
Relieved, she relaxed and stepped back, motioning him inside. “You must be freezing!”
He brought his ski equipment with him and removed his goggles and hat as he entered. “You think?”
The words had been casual, but the tone held an edge of…something. Anger? Worry? She helped him tug off his gloves and tossed them onto a weathered end table next to the prickly wicker thing that served as a couch. Other than the slightly labored sound of his breathing, Sean’s silence hung heavy in the air. It was disconcerting to see the normally laid-back man at a loss for a joke or a smile, and she made an attempt to lighten the atmosphere inside the tiny cabin.
“Thank you for coming to rescue little ol’ me.”
He glanced around the cabin, his gaze pausing momentarily on the blazing fire in the hearth. “Looks like I’m a little late.”
“You’re surprised I’m not buried in a snowdrift?”
“Yeah, well, most of the women I know couldn’t start a fire with a flamethrower and a pile of gasoline-soaked newspaper.” He unbuckled his ice-crusted boots and stepped out of them. “What did you do? Rub two sticks together?”
She had to smile at how put out he seemed over not being able to play white knight. Poor baby.
“No.” She swept up a box of matches from the dining table to dangle in front of him. “But I could have. Girl Scouts.” She shrugged. “Well, that and the fact that my dad used to drag us out camping with no gear other than what we could carry on our backs.”
“And here I took you for an out-and-out city girl.” He arched a tawny eyebrow. “You are full of surprises.”
“And you’re shivering.” She helped him out of his jacket, shivering herself at the icy drops that fell onto her skin. “Let’s warm you up.”
He moved toward the fire, his stockinged feet barely making a sound. “Now should be the time I make some highly suggestive remark, but the part of my brain that thinks about sex is frozen.”
“What’s that leave, three or four cells that aren’t frostbitten?”
He hunkered down in front of the hearth, no longer frowning but still not smiling. Tough audience. “Sounds about right.”
“Let me get you some coffee.”
“You made coffee?”
She pointed to the pot sitting on a rack over the fire. “Found that and some stale grounds in a cupboard. There’s soup, too, if you’re hungry.”
Sean mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “Damon’s an idiot.”
“What did you say?”
He looked up from holding his hands before the leaping flames. “I said don’t bother with it. I’m good.”
“Yes, you are. I can’t believe you found me.”
Shrugging, he sat cross-legged on the bearskin rug she’d dug out of the bedroom chest and scooted so close to the hearth she felt sure he’d scorch himself. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“Of course I am.”
“You’re lucky.”
At his stern expression, she huffed. “I would have made it back to the lodge if the blizzard hadn’t started. And it wasn’t like I went off into the wilderness without a plan.”
“Just stick to the easy stuff from now on, will you? If you feel the need to push your limits, do it somewhere safer.” He gave her another severe stare. “Promise?”
She rolled her eyes but nodded, knowing he was right. “Whatever. And FYI,” she added grudgingly, “the mountain-cop routine is a serious turn on.”
Amusement drew creases at the corners of his eyes, and finally, a quirky smile curved his mouth. “Good to know.” He rubbed his hands briskly together and held them before the fire. “How did you get in here, anyway?”
“The cabin was unlocked. Mr. Delaney never locked it. Not much here to steal, and he always said he’d rather leave it open for anyone who might need to take shelter.”
“You know the owner?”
“My dad just bought the place, but we used to come here a lot.”
Now he looked even more put out than he had before. “So coming here wasn’t an accident. You knew what you were doing.”
She jammed her fists on her hips and gave a haughty sniff. “I might have lost my common sense for a crazy minute or two, but I’m not a complete idiot.”
Chuckling, he unhooked his radio from his belt. “No, you are definitely not an idiot.”
He keyed the radio, and after several attempts at speaking through intense static, he finally made it clear to headquarters that they were safe and would be holed up for the night. He even told the person he spoke with to pass the word along to Karen.
It struck her then just how serious the situation could have been, how foolish she’d been to attempt a run she wasn’t ready for.
“Thank you,” she said when he finished. “I caused a lot of trouble, didn’t I?”
“No trouble.” He set the radio on the floor near the pile of split firewood. “But I could have thought of a better way to spend this evening.”
She playfully nudged his knee with the ball of her foot. “A better way than what? Being trapped in a warm, candle-lit cabin with me?”
His smile…oh, dear God, his lovely, wicked smile made her knees weak and her breath hitch. “Well, now that you put it that way…” He bounded to his feet and grabbed her around the waist with astonishing quickness. “I can’t think of anyplace I’d rather be.”
The pounding of Robyn’s heart when she’d answered the door couldn’t compare to what was happening inside her chest right now. Sean hauled her against him, and the cold fabric of his clothes chilled her skin. She shivered, but it had nothing to do with the temperature.
Heat and a startling thread of tenderness swirled in his eyes as he brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “I need to explain the other night.”
She slid her hands up his stomach, her palms finding all the peaks and valleys of the six-pack abs beneath his thermal shirt. His chest expanded as she pushed her hands upward to wind her arms around his neck.
“Will the same thing happen tonight?”
Their eyes locked, and her heart stumbled. “Not a chance.”
A surge of excitement raced through her, and her pulse hammered so hard it thundered in her ears. She pressed fully against him, letting him know just how pleased she was. “Then you don’t need to explain.”
“Yeah, I do—”
“Shh,” she whispered, and leaned in to press her lips to his throat.
His breathing stilled, and somewhere deep inside he shuddered. His arms tightened around her, and when she looked up, his caramel eyes had darkened in the light cast by the fire and candles to a rich, pure amber that shimmered with desire. Slowly, too slowly, he dipped his head and took her mouth with the same forceful hunger she felt.
She sighed as the tip of his tongue teased her lips and then delved between them to meet hers. She tasted his need as much as felt it—electric, salty, tangy.
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Melting against him, she dropped her arms to slip her hands beneath his shirt. Goosebumps pebbled his moist, warm skin and he shivered.
“You’re freezing.” She broke away and took his hand to lead him close to the fire. “Let’s get you warmed up.”
“I’ve got some ideas…”
“Me, too,” she breathed, sinking to her knees on the plush bearskin rug.
She pulled him down in front of her and gathered the bottom of his shirt in her fists. The trip to the cabin must have been exhausting, but the rapid rise and fall of his chest now had nothing to do with exertion, a fact that thrilled her as she peeled the damp garment up over his torso and then tugged it over his head. His tousled hair stuck up all over the place, and she felt an intense urge to run her fingers through the spiky tufts. So she did.
Sean closed his eyes, let her comb through his soft hair. “That feels good,” he murmured. “No one has ever touched me like that.”
“Like what?”
His thick, long lashes swept up, revealing a tender intimacy that forced her to take a steadying breath. “Like they care.”
The breath stuck in her throat. No no no! This was just sex. No caring or forming attachments allowed. Time to shift gears.
“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” she teased. “Must concentrate on the lust.” Smiling seductively, she trailed a finger down his temple, and along his cheekbone to his mouth, where she traced the bow of his upper lip.
“Lust is good.”
He sucked the tip of her finger into his mouth and lightly nipped it with his teeth before soothing the spot with his tongue, and she nearly choked on the ball of said lust forming in her throat. Dragging her finger down, she skimmed his full lower lip, his chin, his neck to the hollow where his pulse pounded, and then lower, through the dusting of sandy hair covering the tan skin of his chest—skin marked with scars that read like a roadmap of pain. She examined each scar, wondering how they came about, and beneath them, sharply defined muscles rolled and flexed with the slightest touch of her finger.