Free Fall (4 page)

“Just shoot me now,” Lily muttered, then lifted an apologetic gaze to Logan. “Fun's over.
Again
. I have patrollers on their way, but I'm going over to help.”

“Whoever you were talking to sounded worried.”

“It's going to be a little tricky getting him back up. It's getting dark. And where he went over is sheer
rock, covered in two months' worth of ice, topped with some powder.”

“Avalanche waiting to happen.”

“You got it,” she said grimly. “There are signs making it out-of-bounds for exactly that reason.”

“Maybe I can help.”

“No.”

“I have ten years' climbing experience.”

She let out a breath. He'd fixed her binding. With duct tape. He'd wrapped her knee when most wouldn't have even known she'd been hurt. Mr. Safety and Security, she'd give him that, and yet he willingly threw himself into any risk.

Damn if that wasn't unbearably sexy all by itself. “All right, fine. You're hired. Let's go, ace.”

“Okay, Lily Rose.”

She arched a brow. “Use my middle name again and you'll be the one left out-of-bounds.”

His laughter rang out in the snow-filled air and made her smile.

L
OGAN WATCHED
L
ILY'S PETITE
form glide down the steep incline in the snow, doing so far more purposefully and carefully than she had earlier. He wondered just how badly she'd hurt herself.

He could hear Wyatt now…
You can take the man out of the SAR team but you can't take the SAR team out of the man.

Yeah, yeah, sue him. After a lifetime of watching after his two younger siblings for his overworked father, and then working search and rescue, taking care of others was nothing but pure instinct for him.

Granted, she was tough as hell and damned up-front and practical to boot, and could undoubtedly take care of herself—but that didn't stop him from wanting to make sure.

And then there was the searing heat that shot back and forth between them like a Ping-Pong ball with every glance, every word. She might not be the drop-dead beautiful ski bunny Wyatt had had in mind for him, but she had a secret sort of try-me smile and a way about her that was far more sensual than any woman he'd been with in a long time.

They got to the lift they needed to take and headed
back up again. In less than ten minutes they were standing at the lip of another dizzy drop-off where their skier had fallen, with four other patrollers who were dealing with the victim's freaked-out friends, all of whom were eventually convinced to go wait at the lodge. The patrollers had already determined that their victim, down the precipice about forty feet, wasn't hurt. Now they were trying to figure out where the out-of-bounds signs had gone.

“Just this morning, three of them were spread right here across the cliff,” Lily said, baffled.

“They're gone now.” One of the patrollers scratched his head. “Hard to blame the guy for getting into trouble when he didn't know he was heading into it.”

“Oh, no. No excuses. Anyone in his right mind would know to stay off this cliff.” Lily shook her head. “But still, this looks bad.”

“Some stupid punk prank,” Chris said, setting up a strobe light to help them see in the growing dark. “Someone thought they were funny.”

“What do you think?” Lily asked. “Take him down from there, or back up on a rope?”

“Either way,” Chris said, “it's going to be a tricky rescue.”

They knew what they were doing, Logan told himself as he stood there silently, but he itched to pitch in and help.

Another call came over the radio. Seemed the identical-twin troublemakers hadn't followed Lily's directions and were now fighting on the front lodge steps. Adding to the problem was the crowd of their
buddies hooting and hollering and urging them on, and an increasingly aggressive crowd.

Looking royally pissed, Lily nodded for three of the crew to go down and handle it, leaving just her and Chris. The snow kept coming down, plus it wouldn't be long before they'd need the lights—daylight was fading fast, already impeding vision. “I'll go after this idiot,” she said, resigned.

“Skiing out from there will be tough going,” Chris said. “And we'd have to send a snowcat to pick you up, which'll pull someone away from another post. We're already short-staffed.”

“It'll be a climb back up, then.” She began to gear up with the harness and ropes the others had left. “Can you set up some caution tape to close off this area until we find the signs?”

Watching her, Logan discovered he couldn't sit back any longer. “Let me go down for him,” he said.

“Logan—”

“Your knee might give out on you on the way back up. I've done this a thousand times. More.”

“In the snow? On ice?”

“In the snow, on ice,” he assured her. Maybe not at this altitude, and not at a ski resort, but so what? He could do this, more safely than she could at the moment.

She looked at her patroller. “Chris, you should officially meet Logan. He's SAR out of Ohio, a helicopter and rappelling expert. We can use his help, yes?”

“Are you kidding?
Yes
.”

“Hey!” came a faint cry from over the cliff. “You guys ever coming for me or what?”

Lily rolled her eyes at Chris, then leaned over the edge in a way that suggested a great ease with heights and an even greater confidence in herself. “Are you injured?”

“No! Just cold!”

“I'm coming.” She grabbed the ropes but her walkie-talkie chirped again, and at the news from Danny at base she swore softly. They had a kid on his last run of the day with a broken wrist on the bunny slope, leaving her team stretched thin and thinner. “Chris—”

“I can't leave you alone, Slim.”

“I've got Logan.”

Logan moved in. “I'll do whatever's necessary.”

Chris agreed reluctantly and turned to Lily. “Rappel down to him, but risk the ski-out, since you don't have enough manpower to pull you back up. Keep on the radio. I'll send in a snowcat to pick you up at the bottom.”

“And then there were two,” Lily said to Logan when Chris had left.

“My knee's good enough for what needs to be done.” She prepared to rappel over the edge. “Don't let me fall.”

He looked at her in horror. “I won't.”

She smiled. “That was a joke, Logan. Gotta lighten up some. After I'm safely down, send my board down, too, then maybe you could gather the ropes for me and shut off the light. I'll ski the guy down to meet the cat.”

And with that, she was gone. Totally trusting, believing in him, confident in her own abilities to make this thing happen.

She had to be the most amazing woman he'd ever met in his entire life. But that thought would have to wait because he now had her hanging off a sheer, icy cliff in questionable weather, her life in his very hands.

How many times had
he
put his own life in his teammates' hands and never given it another thought? Hundreds.
Thousands
. So he had no idea why his stomach had fallen to somewhere near his toes, with his heart in his throat, where it firmly remained until she signaled to him that she had reached the victim.

He sent down her board, then pulled up the ropes, gathering them so that he could ski with them looped over his shoulder. When he took another look over the edge, Lily and her rescue vic were already gone. Safe, he hoped, knowing they were moving down harsh, unwelcoming terrain not meant for humans.

Logan quickly taped off the area and shut down the light. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the growing twilight, and then began his own descent, on the regulated, patrolled slope closest to the rescue, stopping only half a minute later when an odd flicker of reflection came from the cluster of trees to his right. Skiing off the trail, about five feet in, between two tight trees, he found three signs.

Three “out of bounds” signs. He gathered them up, tucked them under his arm and, with the ropes still looped over his shoulder, headed down again, not stopping until he was at the lodge, standing in front of the first-aid cabin to its right, listening to the radio conversation between a patroller on a snowcat and Lily.

He was relieved when he heard she'd been picked
up, but had to wait another fifteen minutes before she came into view, looking tired and in some pain.

“Hey,” she said in surprise at the sight of him hanging out on the covered deck. She lit up with pleasure, which froze on her face when she saw the signs lying at his feet.

“The area's taped off—and I found these just off the trail,” he said.

“So some punk really moved them on purpose. Damn. Hard to remember if I was ever that stupid. Thanks for putting the tape up—and bringing these down.” She picked up her walkie-talkie and asked someone to come get the signs and put them back where they belonged in the morning, before the hill opened to the public.

“You okay?” Logan asked when she was done.

“Sure. You didn't have to wait for me. I don't want you to waste your ski time on me.”

Hadn't anyone ever waited for her? Made her feel like she was worth waiting for? “I just wanted to make sure your knee was okay—”

“I'm a big girl.”

Yeah, he was getting that. Getting that she had to be. She was also intelligent, quick-witted and strong as hell.

She stepped off the covered deck into the lightly falling snow, then turned toward him, opening her mouth to catch a snowflake on her tongue.

A tongue he suddenly, desperately, wanted in his mouth. “You're sure you're not hurt?” He moved off the deck to stand next to her. They were alone, and because of it, he stepped even closer.

“What are you going to do if I am?” she asked in a daring voice as she caught yet another snowflake on her tongue. “Kiss it better?”

“Maybe.”

“I dare you.”

Without hesitation, he hauled her up against him to do just that and covered her mouth with his.

Her surprised murmur filled his head, along with the ensuing heat when the kiss went instantly hot and sweet all at once, sending hunger and desire skittering through his veins. He rocked against her, and with another surprised murmur, she opened her mouth to his, clutching him close.

Close was good, even if they were separated by clothing and gear. The material was designed to insulate, but none of it was a match for the heat that zapped between them. The pressure of her body, the glide of her tongue with his, gave him a glimpse of both heaven and hell. Heaven because he couldn't remember a better kiss than this, hell because he wasn't going to get much more, not out here in the open as they were.

But God, she fit against him so absolutely, as if she'd been made for him, and he fisted his hand on her jacket, low at her spine, rather than explore her curves and heat in public. After one more slow exploration of her delicious mouth, he forced himself to pull back, letting out a groan when her lips clung to his before letting go with a little suction sound that made him even harder.

Mouth still wet, she stared up at him, her eyes soft and aroused and touchingly unsure, as if she, too,
knew that this was different—and far more terrifying because of it. Then the expression was gone and her cocky grin flashed. “Thanks for the help today, ace. It's always nice to work with another adrenaline junkie. You ever want to change locations, you're hired.”

His heart was still threatening to burst out of his chest but he managed to answer. “I'm not an adrenaline junkie.”

That made her laugh. “Anyone who willingly throws himself into a situation like you have—twice—is an adrenaline junkie.” She smoothed her fingers over his jaw with a smile. “Don't look so unsettled. You should know, we can't help ourselves.” Leaning in, she bit his lower lip. “I gotta go.”

The snow felt cold on his hot skin. “Your knee—”

“Feels better already. Have fun tonight.”

And then she was gone.

 

L
OGAN SKIED HARD THE NEXT
day, wanting to clear his mind. The day before had been interesting, educational and, to say the least, intriguing, and he had a whole new appreciation for what someone like Lily did for a living.

He also had a whole new appreciation for the woman herself. Curvy, small as hell and with guts to boot—he couldn't get her out of his mind. The wild kiss hadn't helped. She'd thrown herself into that, too, as she apparently threw herself into everything.

Did she have any idea how incredibly arousing that was? Since he hadn't seen her once since, he had no idea but he suspected she'd felt it, as well, and had
backed away from both that and him. He didn't miss the irony of that—a woman unnerved by nothing being unnerved by his kiss.

By the time late afternoon settled in, it looked more like twilight, with the sun behind the clouds. Snow drifted down, reflecting off the already white mountain. Around him the landscape took on a surreal feeling, almost as if he was standing on a movie set where everything had been painted white, with low lights added to make it all glow. It was also incredibly quiet, eerily so, because the snow hit with no sound at all, muffling all the other normal noises.

In that oddly beautiful winter wonderland, Logan skied to the lodge steps and removed his skis. For the second night in a row, he had absolutely nothing ahead of him to do, no one waiting on him, no paperwork, nothing. He could hardly wrap his mind around that.

He took the time to admire his surroundings. He loved the look of the lodge, a two-story sprawling cabin-style building wrapped in dark wood siding above a brick base, with at least one large outdoor patio off the east side. The myriad of windows were all trimmed in white with open shutters, giving the lodge a gingerbread-house kind of charm and personality. As he walked up the steps and under the hanging Bay Moon sign, stomping the snow off his boots, the doors opened and several skiers spilled out. So did the scent of all sorts of foods from the cafeteria, and his stomach growled, reminding him he'd skipped lunch. He stepped inside.

Off to the right and down a wide stone staircase
was a wing of guest rooms. Straight ahead lay the wide, open common room, and to the left, another hallway, where he could head into the cafeteria, the bar or the ski rental shop.

In the common room, a wide variety of people sat around the crackling flames contained in the huge stone fireplace. Several of the loungers were of the hot-ski-bunny variety that Wyatt had figured he'd be spending time enjoying.

The whole SAR team had spent the past few weeks razzing Logan about this trip, taking bets on how many women he could meet and if—when—any of them would stick.

He could have told them when.

Never.

In his world, love didn't stick at all, not when pitted against such a demanding lifestyle. His mother hadn't stuck with his father's nomadic military way of life, and had left her three young children early on. Many of his friends had been through women like cheap wine, and several were on second or third marriages. Any relationships Logan himself had attempted self-destructed when he'd proven he loved his job more than any significant other in his life.