Free Fall

The bad girl in her screamed, Oh, yes! But the sensible ski patroller in her demurred. “Racing on a hill not denoted for such things isn’t wise.”

He laughed, a sound that scraped low in her belly. “And here I thought you were so tough.”

She stared into his teasing eyes and nearly drowned in the dark orbs. “Tough and stupid aren’t synonyms.”

“We both know you’re dying to race me.” Leaning in close, he whispered, “I dare you.”

He had no way of knowing that she loved a good dare, that she’d never turned one down in her life. Not in second grade, when Tony Villa had dared her to put superglue on their teacher’s chair. Not in sixth grade, when Eric Orlando had dared her to pull down her pants and moon the baseball team. Even though a dare had led her right down the wrong path many, many more times than she could count she’d long ago given up fighting the lust for life that throbbed in her veins. She looked around to make sure they were alone. “I’ll show you ‘tough.’”

His grin was slow and wicked. “Are we on, then?”

“You bet your sweet ass.” With no one in sight, making the dare okay in her books, she blew him a little kiss, then leaped forward, going balls out, straight down the mountain. She could hear him on her tail, and then he was right next to her, and for long moments they stayed like that, side by side, the swooshing of the snow beneath his skis and her board a wonderful sound.

Finally she edged free just a little and eyeballed the next sharp turn. I can take him right here, I can pull ahead—

Her walkie-talkie chirped, and with a grand sigh for what might have been, she stopped short and answered the call. “Go ahead,” she said to base.

“Skier disappeared out-of-bounds, on the north face between Surprise and Drop Off. Friends say he has no business being out-of-bounds, and he’s not responding to shout-outs. Danny said you’re already up there.”

“I’m on Drop Off. I’ll ski between the trees to get over there, see if I can see him.”

“Chris is on his way, too.”

Chris had her old, beloved position of Patrol Director, and loved the mountain as much as she did. He, too, was only on call today, but undoubtedly hadn’t been able to resist the fresh snow any more than she had. She clipped the radio back onto her belt and eyed the trees off to her right, knowing she could board through the tightly growing pines and come out just above the area where the skier had gone out-of-bounds. Or so she hoped. She turned to go, then remembered. She wasn’t alone. She eyed her perfect stranger’s long, most excellent form.

“You think he’s lost?”

“Or down,” she said. “And hurt.”

“And so off you go.”

“Yeah. Sorry about the race. Maybe we can give it another shot later.”

He nodded, and with a good amount of regret, Lily took off through the trees, which in itself was an adventure on a board with a foot of fresh powder. With the pines packed so close to each other and this part of the mountain so incredibly steep, even experienced skiers ran into serious trouble here.

But because she knew the entire hill like the back of her hand, she came out of the trees just above the out-of-bounds area on the north face, which consisted of a steep cliff overlooking a valley of rough, unskiable terrain. Despite that and the clear boundary markers, there were still a few yahoos every year who tried to ski out this way.

Traversing along the edge a little bit, she indeed found a set of tracks. Someone had skied down right here and gone off the edge. She stared at the sign that read Unpatrolled Beyond This Point, Out-Of-Bounds Territory and shook her head. “Idiot,” she muttered. She used her walkie-talkie to check in with base and was clipping it back to her belt when she heard a skier coming. Puzzled, she turned to face Sexy Man In Black.

“I followed your track.” He stood with ease on his skis, white powder dusting halfway up his long legs. “You going down here?”

“Yeah.”

His smile was gone, replaced by an intensity that took her breath every bit as much as his good humor had. “Be safe.”

“You, too. Careful getting out of here.” She pushed off.

The terrain was even steeper than Drop Off had been, the way uneven, with the double threat of sheer rock and unmarked cliffs, not to mention the possibility of an avalanche. Granted, there’d been a patrolling team out at five this morning, checking on that very threat, but you couldn’t be too careful.

Or too careless. This area was unpatrolled for a good reason, and as she maneuvered her way along, following the tracks of the missing skier, she cursed him for putting even more people in jeopardy with his foolishness.

She pulled up short just before a heart-stopping cliff, gratified to see the tracks ahead veer off to the left. Again, she pulled out her walkie-talkie and verified with base that she was in the correct vicinity, had his tracks in sight and that, so far, he hadn’t fallen down the cliff. At least not this one.

“I think I see him.”

Jerking in surprise, she once again turned and met a dark, chocolate gaze. “What the hell are you doing following me?”

“Helping,” he said simply.

He was an even better skier than she’d thought if he’d gotten here without a problem. “Look, this is crazy stuff. It’s one thing for me to put myself on the line to find a thoughtless idiot, but you don’t need to or have to. Now, seriously, stop. Stay. I don’t want to have to worry about you, too.”

“I’m SAR,” he said, and when she just stared at him, he clarified, “Search and Rescue.”

“I know what SAR means.” Hmm. She didn’t have time to analyze the little skip in her pulse, nor did she know what to make of him, a man clearly as insane as she was.

“I can help,” he said.

Lily was very used to the people in her world trying to rein her in, hold her back, telling her she couldn’t, she shouldn’t, constantly reminding her how much of a screwup she’d been all her life—which, perversely, always made her want to step over the proverbial line. Or erase it.

But now, for the first time ever, she had the urge to rein someone in, to tell them they couldn’t, they shouldn’t, and she had to admit that it was majorly unnerving. She wanted to grab him, make him wait, make sure that he didn’t get hurt, that he stayed safe. Was that how her family felt? “Okay, so you’re trained, but this is my rescue—”

“There.” He pointed, then pushed past her to actually beat her to the rescue. Only about twenty-five yards straight down the vertical slope, a skier sat on a rock, looking a little sheepish as he lifted one foot, minus the ski he’d clearly lost into the vast valley below.

With one last sigh, Lily followed.

THE RESCUE WENT WELL, THE lecture given, the reports filled out, and before Lily knew it, the whole incident was over.

And her mystery man was gone.

She’d never even learned his name. Her pride chafed a little at that, and the fact that apparently he hadn’t felt the need to learn hers, even though he’d been the one to use the small first-aid kit in her fanny pack to treat a wound on the lost skier’s knee. He’d chatted with the young punk, joking about how he’d been given this trip while at a bachelor party for his best friend and about how much easier skiing was than rappelling out of helicopters, or flying them, which he apparently did on a daily basis in his SAR duties.

Watching him work had been an interesting experience. He had such an easygoing confidence and an authority that didn’t grate or grind on her nerves. That had been a first.

Still, she knew she hadn’t imagined the scorching heat in his eyes every time he’d looked at her, so if he was stupid enough to let her go, well, then, he could just damn well suffer for it.

Back in her office, she worked for several hours solid on her least favorite chore—paperwork. Even a small resort like Bay Moon generated mountains of it, all of which had to be done, though she’d have preferred to be outside on the real mountain. Trying not to resent it, she approved the budget for the ski shop’s fall stock, looked over Sara’s guest-services report and eyed the accounting reports for Gwyneth. Ugh.

Finally, she glanced at the clock. Three o’clock. A good time for the lunch she’d never had, she figured, and popped out of her office.

“You going out for a bite?” Carrie asked. She was a local, like Lily, who’d spent years enjoying her ultimate-ski-bunny status, until two years ago when she’d fallen on the slopes and tweaked her lower back. Now she occasionally skied a beginner slope, but mostly worked in the office, enjoying her great view, with an unbelievably good attitude.

If Lily had lost her ability to board or ski, she wouldn’t have been nearly so accepting. “Yeah, I’m going out.”

Carrie grinned. “Let me guess—you’re going to the midlodge for a burger.”

She was going to the midlodge, all right, but she wouldn’t be stopping for a burger. She’d be getting on yet another lift to get to the top of the hill for a few runs before they closed. “Mmm…maybe.”

“It’s snowing again.”