Free Fall (2 page)

She checked in on her walkie-talkie to patrol base. Danny, a patroller, told her to have fun. Not a problem.

It was barely eight-fifteen, and the chairs officially didn't run until eight-thirty, so there wasn't much of a line yet. With her jacket, and the white cross on the back denoting her as ski patrol, she was entitled to move ahead of everyone else, but she didn't. Unless there was an emergency, she didn't mind waiting in the lines, visiting with the people on what she considered “her” mountain.

She moved in behind a couple and their two young children. Another skier came up on her right. Craning her head intending to say hello, she felt a sudden jolt right down to her toes.

The man who'd caused the jolt smiled at her. And
whoa, baby
, but the way he did caused a rush of blood through her veins more thrilling than any first run on the slopes could give her.

Before she could return the smile, she was jostled from behind, and might have fallen flat on her face but for the man with the brain-cell-melting smile on her right. His gloved hand settled on her arm, holding her steady. Grinning her thanks, she used the moment to take a good look at him, at the dark, wavy hair that called to a woman's fingers, at the complexion that suggested both a tan and an Italian heritage and at the wide, firm mouth that immediately brought to mind a long night of hot sin.

She couldn't see the eyes behind his mirrored Oakleys, darn it, but at her lengthy perusal, he arched a slow brow. His smile became just a little heated, and in his easy stance she detected an edge, an aura of danger, a delicious, spine-tingling shiver of attitude.

God, she loved a fellow rebel.

And then there was his physique—all hard length and sleek power. His lightweight black jacket fit snugly to his broad shoulders and chest, loosely at the waist. His cargo ski pants were loose, too, but in no way hid the effect of his long legs. Here was a man who kept his body in prime condition—possibly an athlete.

Yum.

“Single?” he asked as the line shifted closer to the lift.

She knew he was asking if she was single for the lift, but she answered for both that
and
her personal life. “Very.”

He smiled again, and together they moved to the front of the lift. The operator was Eric, a twenty-five-year-old ski bum who'd been running lifts for seven years now. He gave her the thumbs-up sign. “Drop Off, dudette.”

“That's where I'm heading now.” She couldn't wait to have the icy wind in her face, the feel of the slope beneath her.

“Drop Off?” the magnificent male specimen next to her asked as they sat on their chair, swinging into the air over a popular intermediate run called Calamity Alley.

The snow looked like endless yards of corduroy, thanks to the grooming crew working nights on the snowcats. “Drop Off is a run on the back side, off the north cornice,” she said.

“Sounds like a good place to start.”

“Oh, no,” she said with a laugh. “It's a horrible place to start. It's a double-diamond run, expert only.”

And the Sierras had been dumped on last night, making it all the more challenging. A blanket of fresh white powder lay as far as the eye could see, coating the trees on either side of the runs below like stoically swaying hundred-foot-high ghosts. Lily's adrenaline began to pump. She lived for powder days. Lived to huck herself off Drop Off, a two-and-a-half-mile run with a wicked three-thousand-foot vertical drop.

The man next to her pushed up his sunglasses, showing his eyes for the first time.
Melting chocolate,
was her first thought, and good Lord, but she was suddenly starving for some. “Double diamond?” he repeated.

“Yes. Have you been here before?”

He shifted his broad shoulders forward to adjust his narrow backpack to be more comfortable between his spine and the chair. “No.”

“But you have skied before,” she guessed, as evidenced by his ease getting on the lift.

“I do all right.”

He certainly looked all right. More than. And yet, just because he did, didn't mean he was a good skier. She'd actually discovered that the more good-looking someone was, the less skill they required to get through life, skiing included.

Far too many times she'd been pulled in by a pretty face only to discover that all the expensive gear was merely a front. An illusion. Not that it had stopped her from enjoying said pretty face, but she understood and appreciated the fine art of one-night standing and happened to be extremely selective. It'd been a while since she'd indulged, but suddenly, looking into eyes the color of expensive, dark, rich mocha, she decided she was due.

Past due.

But whether she slept with him or not, she wouldn't have any casualties on her conscience. If this hunk of amazing flesh couldn't ski, she'd happily point him in the direction of the bunny slopes and go on her merry powder way. “I'll get you a map at the top so you can find the right runs for you.”

“Thank you,” he said, sounding amused. “But I can figure it out.”

A bunch of loud catcalls and
woo-hoos
burst in the air. The four guys on the lift behind them had gotten a nice look at Calamity Alley, smooth and freshly groomed. They were young and exuberant, brimming with an unmitigated joy that was contagious enough to make Lily smile.

The devastating hottie next to her had shifted to look, too, putting an arm up along the back of the chair to do so. The material of his gear crinkled, and through the icy morning came the scent of his soap, his shampoo…and more.
Clean, pure male,
she thought with an inhale that had her nostrils quivering.

His eyes met hers, first with humor—he'd caught her sniffing him!—and then with an answering crackle of awareness and attraction. She just knew that he was thinking stuff, all sorts of wicked, unspeakable, bad-boy stuff, and suddenly the morning chill dissipated. She didn't look away, she couldn't, and neither did he. The moment stretched out, sizzling in intensity.

Far beneath them, a lone skier took the mountain in a series of long S-turns. She shifted her attention downward, nearly quivering, though now she wasn't sure it was just the need to follow the fall line on her own freshly waxed board that had her senses on full alert.

“You get down there a lot, I take it, since you're a local.” He nodded to her ski-patrol jacket.

“Born and bred.”

“You've been boarding a long time, then.”

And skiing, too. Her grandpa had put her on a board at the tender age of two. She'd been a holy terror ever since, as any living member of her family could attest to. “How about you? Where are you from?”

“Ohio.”

“Long way from home.” She loved hearing their guests' stories. Plus, she just loved his voice, low and just a little husky. “So what brings you here, besides
the wonderful resort and the fact we have the best skiing on the planet?”

“My partner gave me a week out here. Said I needed a vacation.”

“Wow. Nice partner.”

Before she could ask more, or what he did for a living, they were at the top of the lift. They got off together and skied forward to Upper Way, which would deposit them at the top of the world—or what felt like it at 11,150 feet. They got on with two boarders, who managed to get between her and her beautiful stranger, and this time there was little talk and lots of awe as they all took in the stunning Sierras in full winter splendor.

When they finally reached the top, Lily stopped to wave to the lift operator and pulled her sunglasses out from inside her jacket.

The two boarders quickly vanished down the front of Surprise, a lovely, groomed intermediate run that would eventually take them back to the midmountain lift. Her mysterious rebel had shifted forward, meanwhile, to read the large billboard map that exhibited all the runs. A dry-erase board beneath it listed which of them had been groomed and their conditions. He bent to tighten his boots—which gave her the chance to notice that his butt was as extremely fine as the rest of him—then he straightened and pushed off, heading toward the back side and Drop Off.

“Hey,” she called out, but it was too late. “Damn it.” She went after him. At the lip of the run, she hastily bent and locked her other foot into her binding. He'd already begun his descent, and as she watched,
her mouth fell open. He'd said he was an “all right” skier, but the man was beyond anything even close to all right. In fact, he moved like poetry in motion, perfectly in sync with the fall line of the mountain. Was that ever sexy.

With a grin of anticipation and lust and pure joy, she threw herself off the edge of her world, flying down the mountain after him.

L
ILY PASSED HER
H
OT
M
AN
In Black, waving as she swooshed on by. The beauty of Drop Off was its combination of sheer length and vertical drop, never failing to give her a roller-coaster, stomach-to-her-toes feeling—but today the run had an extra edge to it, courtesy of her sizzling audience.

The trees on either side of the sharp, creviced run blurred as her eyes watered with the icy morning chill. Still she pushed harder, happily losing herself in speed and adrenaline.

Halfway down, she leaped into a quick stop and, as she often liked to do, turned to look back up at the cliff she'd just taken. Breath coming in quick, short pants, she swiped at her glasses to rid them of the flakes of powder blocking her view.

He skied up beside her, stopping close enough to spray her with snow. “Still worried about me?”

She shot him a droll look. “You failed to mention you were expert.”

He let out a slow grin. “You failed to ask.”

True.

“Race to the bottom?” he asked casually.

The bad girl in her screamed,
Oh, yes
! But the sen
sible 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.

 

T
HE 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 expe
rience. 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.”

“Since when has that ever been a deterrent?” But she did dodge back into her office to trade her sunglasses for her goggles, grabbing them off their perch on her desk lamp.

Carrie's laugh rang out as Lily left. “Ski one for me, would you?”

“You got it.” The lodge was full of skiers and boarders, all talking, some eating, and by the looks of it, everyone enjoying themselves. Lily found herself smiling as she walked through and went outside. Small flakes drifted lazily down as she got on the lift.

She'd no sooner gotten off at midmountain when she came across a fight between two boarders who turned out to be identical-twin fools. They were fighting over which run to take, and had gathered an audience. Lily swore, tossed aside her board and leaped in, pushing them apart, but not before she took an elbow to her chin, making her see stars. “You,” she growled, jabbing one in the chest. They were about twenty years old, lanky and looking a little worse for the fight in the snow. “You okay?”

He touched a growing bruise under his eye and glared at his twin. “Yeah.”

“That's too bad,” she said, then whirled when his brother snickered. “Listen carefully. Go down Calamity Alley, go around the lodge,
not
through, and straight to your car.”

“Calamity Alley,” he whined. “That's nothing but a bunny hill.”

She swiped her finger over his season pass hanging around his neck. “Go, or lose this.”

“Hey, I paid good money for that!” He pulled free. “You can't tell me what to do.”

Her chin throbbed, and every moment that passed meant less time on the slopes before she had to go back inside. “See this jacket? It means I can tell you whatever I want.” She gestured down the hill. “Don't come back today.” She turned to his brother. “And you. Go down Abby's Lane, which runs parallel to Calamity Alley. Same rules. Around the lodge,
not
through, and don't come back today or you'll lose
your
season pass.”

A long, tense moment passed while they shot her matching sullen looks. With a few of their buddies egging them on behind her, she turned in a circle in the lightly falling snow, hand on her walkie-talkie, wondering if she'd have to call for backup, which would just really top it for her.

Then a man pushed his way through the small crowd to stand beside her, and her heart hit her throat.

Her Sexy Man In Black.

He'd replaced his sunglasses with goggles, as well, but other than that, looked the same. Which was to say, knee-knockingly good. He took in the situation with one quick, sweeping gaze, then settled that gaze on her, silently offering support while letting her remain in charge.

She eyed the twins again, but after a minute they both huffed out a breath. “It's snowing anyway,” one muttered, and they went their separate ways with
matching grumbles. Only then did she let herself relax as her gaze once again collided with a dark, melting-chocolate one.

“Fun stuff,” he said.

“Yeah. Sometimes it's Idiot Central around here.”

He flashed a devastating grin that revved her engines. “You handled it.”

Yeah, she had, but that he'd noticed and given her credit for it made her take a good long second look at him. And a third. “You having a good day?”

“Oh, yeah. And seeing you again is a nice bonus, too.”

She bent to tighten the laces on her boots, giving herself a moment because the man seriously scrambled her brain, even more so now that she knew he wasn't just an arresting face and hot bod. He had brains to go with both. And that he worked in SAR just upped the gotta-have-him factor because there was nothing, absolutely nothing, hotter than a guy capable of putting his life on the line to rescue another.