Authors: Darah Lace
hurried, she might just make it before Marcus
arrived. “Thank you.”
“I just have to check on something, and then we
can leave.”
“Please hurry. I’m starting to feel nauseous.”
He started to turn away then stopped, his smile
fading as his gaze shifted to something behind her.
She didn’t have to look to know what—or rather
who—he saw.
Strong fingers gripped her arm from behind.
“Are you okay?”
Marcus’s deep voice, husky with concern,
shattered all hope of escape. Pivoting carefully, she
saw the same apprehension radiating from his
emerald eyes. A rush of warmth spread all the way
to her frostbitten toes, but she ignored it, refusing to
be lured by false emotions. Hers or his.
He wasn’t concerned for her well-being. He
wanted answers and obviously wouldn’t let her out
of sight until he had them. But they were none of his
business.
She twisted her arm from his grasp. “I’m fine.
We were just having a little chat, but we’re all done
now. Aren’t we, Blake?”
He gave the poor medic a measuring glance then
dismissed him. “You ready then?”
“I thought you needed a ride.” Tilting his head to
one side, Blake frowned. “It’s not a good idea to ski
with one contact.”
“Contact?”
She blinked one eye in rapid succession. “It
must have rolled to the back of my eye. It’s in place
now. Sorry to bother you.”
Without a word to Marcus, she trudged to a
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small area of level ground, focusing on a nearby
thatch of evergreens and pines rather than the
precipice where Grant and Robyn waited only a few
feet away. Just the thought of joining them made the
imaginary nausea she’d complained about to Blake
real. She sucked in a calming breath and inhaled the
scent of pine, reminding her of the man beside her.
For once she was grateful for the distraction his
presence brought, just as she had been on the
airplane yesterday.
Geez, was that only yesterday?
“What was all that about?”
“Nothing.”
“It didn’t sound like nothing. He said you asked
for a lift. Are you sick?”
Okay, so maybe she wasn’t so grateful. “I’m fine.
Did you bring my pole?”
He passed it to her, and her hand shook as she
took it from him. His fingers manacled her wrist.
“You’re not fine. You’re trembling.”
Charlotte twisted free and tucked the pole under
her arm with its mate then tugged on her gloves
with a few quick jerks to hide her shaking hands.
She had to get rid of them if she wanted to make
another attempt at a ride on the medic’s
snowmobile. “I need to make a couple of
adjustments, but you three should go on. I’ll catch
up.”
Marcus turned to the waiting couple. “Go on
without us. We’ll meet you at the bottom.”
Robyn glanced longingly down the steep slope
that made Charlotte’s stomach heave. “Well, if
you’re sure.”
She nodded. “I promise I’ll be right behind you.”
“
We’ll
be right behind you,” Marcus interjected.
Her stomach sank as Grant and Robyn
disappeared over the edge of the mountain, leaving
her alone with Marcus, suspicion etched on his face.
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“All right. What’s going on?”
His voice echoed, not from the cavernous walls
of rock around them, but from inside her head. She
swallowed, hoping to clear her ears, but it didn’t
help.
Then his eyes grew wide. “Can you ski?”
“Yes.” Her answer came in a whisper, making
his frown deepen. She had to get a grip before she
totally lost it in front of him.
“You’re pale and shaking.”
“I’m cold.”
Probably from shock
.
He dropped his poles in the snow beside him and
shifted closer to slide his hands up her arms, gently
rubbing. “If you’re not sick and you know how to ski,
what’s the problem? Why did you need a ride? And
don’t tell me some lame story about a contact. I
know you don’t wear them.”
His soothing tone was a balm to her fragile
nerves as was the thumb that grazed back and forth
along her jaw. “Talk to me, Charlotte.”
She looked into his hypnotic eyes and recognized
the coaxing patience in them. Damn him and his
controlling nature. How dare he use it to seduce
answers from her when she was paralyzed by fear?
She thrust her chin forward and tossed her hair over
her shoulder. “If you must know, he was hot and
interested, and since you weren’t—ouch.”
His fingers dug into her arms. “Don’t go there.”
His anger sparked her own, and it felt a hell of a
lot better than the fear that threatened to
overwhelm her moments ago. She leaned into him.
“Jealous?”
“I’m not buying that crap anymore. You might
have flirted with him to get a ride, but something
else is going on.”
“Poor Marcus. Ever the suspicious one.”
He released her to run a hand over his face.
“Look, I know you’re mad about last night and you’re
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upset about Robyn giving all your secrets away, but
sooner or later we’re going to talk. About
everything.”
Like hell we are
. Straightening, she tossed
another shank of blonde hair over her shoulder.
“Fine. I have nothing to hide.”
“Then why have you been avoiding me?”
“Not everything is about you, Marcus.”
With that Charlotte pushed off and over the
edge of the first slope. Her anger vanished as she
sped down the vertical path. All thought of getting
away from Marcus went with it when she hit the
first mogul and her skis met air. The ground rushed
up to greet her, and the impact knocked her off
balance, but somehow she stayed on her feet.
The steepness increased as did her speed. Panic
grabbed her by the throat. She couldn’t breathe. And
forget snowplowing. Her muscles refused to obey
even the most instinctive commands.
“Charlotte, slow down.”
Risking a glance over her shoulder, she caught a
brief flash of Marcus’s silver parka a good distance
behind her. Just as she turned back around, one of
her poles was ripped from her hand. Flailing, she
veered to one side toward a stand of trees. The tip of
her ski dug deep in the snow, and she heard Marcus
yell her name as she flew forward.
Well, if she broke her neck, at least she wouldn’t
have to answer his questions.
****
jagged glass. Helpless to stop her, he could only
watch while she tumbled head over heels down the
steep slope. Her skis dislodged from her boots—she’d
lost her poles before her fall—and she rolled several
times to land perilously close to the thick trunk of a
cedar.
He raced forward, slicing over the snow, but felt
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as if he moved in slow motion and would never reach
her. Then all at once he was skidding to a halt and
popping loose from his skis. Falling to his knees
beside her, he caught the slippery ends of his nylon
gloves with his teeth to free his hands. “Charlotte,
are you all right?”
She didn’t answer but lay lifeless on her back,
one arm flung over her face, the other at her side.
Her legs were sprawled at natural angles. Nothing
looked broken, but there could be internal injuries.
He looked around for help, his mind suddenly
blank with fear. His heart, already thudding in his
chest, pumped jack-hammer fast. He could go for the
medic, but they’d come too far down the slope for
him to climb back up. Besides, he wouldn’t leave her.
A whimper brought his attention back around
and forced him to calm the panic that gripped him.
There was no one else. It was up to him.
“Charlotte, can you hear me?” Again no answer.
He ran a tentative hand up her lower leg, careful not
to move her.
She jerked when he reached her knee. “Don’t.”
Her voice sounded choked and watery. She kept
her arm over her eyes, but tears trickled from the
corners, down her temples, and into damp, ice-caked
hair. He applied light pressure to the spot he’d just
squeezed. “Does it hurt here?”
“No.”
“Where does it hurt?” He hated to think of her in
pain, wanted to take it all away, onto himself if he
could. “Is it your arm?” She hadn’t moved the one at
her side at all.
He had barely touched her again when she
slapped his hand away and tried to sit up. “I said,
don’t.”
He pressed a hand to her shoulder, holding her
down as gently as he could for fear of hurting her
further. “You shouldn’t move until we rule out
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injury.”
“I’m fine.” She shrugged from under his grasp
and pushed up to lean on one hand, angrily swiping
her cheeks with the other. “I just don’t want you to
touch me.”
Marcus sat back on his heels, relieved yet
uncertain of how to handle her outburst. She could
be trying to cover her pain by lashing out at him. He
was even more uncertain as to how to deal with her
tears. He’d suspected a softer side to Charlotte, but
until now it was only that. An abstract version of
her.
She curled her legs to one side and rose to her
hands and knees, moaning with every move.
“Here, let me—”
“I don’t need your help.”
At the glare she shot him, he pulled the hand
he’d instinctively extended. “Sorry.”
“You should be.” She began brushing powder
from her lank, matted hair. Her designer knit hat
was somewhere up the slope. “This is all your fault.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“If not for you, I’d be kicking back in front of a
cozy fire with hot chocolate and a good book. But no,
you have to control everything, forcing everyone to
do what you want to do.”
Confused by the accusation, but allowing for her
pain, Marcus pointed out, “You’re the one who
insisted we accept Robyn’s invitation.”
“Now, I’m stuck up here with no way down this
mountain,” she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken.
“I thought you said you weren’t hurt.”
“I’m not.”
“Then we can ski down. We’ll take it a little
slower to be on the safe side, but it shouldn’t take
long.” He stood and brushed off his knees. She
obviously wanted nothing else from him. He would
see her down then leave her alone. Maybe he would
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go home early. That way she could enjoy her visit
with Wylie and his fiancée.
He straightened to find her on her feet, hands
on hips and shaking her head. The look she gave
him was incredulous. “You don’t get it, do you?”
After having the life nearly scared out of him,
his patience was wearing a little thin. “It seems I’m
kind of slow when it comes to reading between the
lines these days so I guess you’ll have to spell it out
for me.”
“There’s no way I can ski down this mountain.”
One hand on his hip, he pointed up the slope.
“Do you mean you stood up there and lied to me
about being able to ski?”
“Skiing isn’t the problem.”
“Then what is?”
Chewing her lip, she stared at him, as if
debating with herself over whether to answer.
Finally, her watery gaze cut to the trees. “Yesterday,
you thought I was afraid of flying. It wasn’t the
flying. It was my fear of heights.”
“I don’t understand. You were—”
“Afraid of crashing, okay? It’s a long way down.”
She sniffed and ran a hand under her nose before
lifting her chin. “And it’s not that I don’t like to ski. I
do. I just prefer the bunny slope. I don’t get dizzy.”
“Are you telling me you came up here, on a slope
for well-seasoned skiers, a slope with not only
breakneck turns but almost ninety degree drop-offs,
knowing you’d have this reaction?” Marcus spoke
calmly and slowly despite the rage that consumed
him. When he thought about what could have
happened, he wanted to throttle her.
Her chin rose another notch. “Yes.”
“Of all the lame-brained, idiotic—You could