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  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.

  LOGAN 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.

  He looked over the women in front of the fire, several of whom looked him over right back. A particularly tall, beautiful brunette smiled slowly at him, her eyes eating him up.

  A ski bunny, just what Wyatt had ordered. He waited for a reaction within him, even a little trickle of curiosity, but the woman stuck on his mind was smaller, lighter, tough as nails, yet soft as silk.

  And he could still taste her kiss.

  With an apologetic smile, he headed for the locker room, where he put his skis away for the night. On the bench opposite his locker sat another woman, late thirties, shiny blond hair, perfect makeup, fancy diamonds dangling off her ears. She wore tight black ski pants and an even tighter sunshine-yellow V-neck sweater that screamed “woman on the prowl.”

  “Do you work here?” she asked in a soft, husky voice, running her fingers over her deep-plunging neckline.

  “No.” Logan stifled his impatience with the ritual flirtation dance and wondered what the hell his problem was. He sat on the bench to remove his ski boots. “Just visiting.”

  “Oh. Me, too. Actually, I own the place.”

  “Really?” He dropped one boot into the locker. “Because I met another owner yesterday on the slopes.”

  “Lily Rose.” The woman laughed. “My niece. She owns a bigger piece than me. Which means she has to do all the work while I get to come and go as I please.” She smiled. “Are you having a nice time?”

  He didn’t have to think about it, which surprised him. “Very.”

  “The snow is so amazing here, isn’t it? I’m used to skiing back east on ice. This place spoils me.”

  Making an agreeing noise, he removed his other boot.

  “Tomorrow is supposed to be gorgeous. Sun and fun on the Sierras.”

  He put that boot on the floor of the locker, as well, and smiled absently.

  “Wow. You have a great smile.” She thrust out a hand. “I’m Debbie, by the way.”

  “Logan.” He shook the hand she offered and looked into her hungry eyes…still nothing.

  “I hope I see you around, Logan. Maybe in the bar, or the hot tub…” With a last, very direct smile, she patted his shoulder and sashayed out of the locker area.

  Logan sighed at himself and headed down the stone staircase toward his room. He figured he’d take a shower and then go eat. And then take the evening from there.

  His room was small but as warm and inviting as the rest of the resort. The walls, painted a soft buttery color, featured framed photographs of the Tahoe area from the late 1800s and early 1900s. The mismatched antique dresser and chair seemed like a perfect fit for the four-poster bed and its patchwork quilt.

  He stripped out of his ski gear and took a long, hot shower, letting the water beat on his back while his mind wandered…right to Lily.

  Unlike Logan, she didn’t have a week off. She wasn’t suddenly…lonely. Damn it. He got dressed and went back upstairs, determined to mingle. To be excited at the prospect of being on his own again. Eating alone in the cafeteria, smiling at strangers, suddenly held little appeal, however, so he headed into the bar, thinking a beer might settle this odd restlessness.

  The bar was done up like an old western saloon, complete with swinging double wood doors, bar stools made from saddles and tables that were shellacked wooden telephone spindles turned on their ends. The place was nearly full, and laughter and talk rang out in pleasant tones as he walked in.

  At home, he and the members of his team often met at Moody’s after an incredibly tough shift, needing to unwind. Logan could walk into that bar any day of the week and come across friends to hang out with. He hadn’t gotten that same level of intimacy last night when he’d wandered through here; this bar had a different energy altogether. It was edgier, louder—more about fun—but still a welcoming place.

  Moving through the crowd, he took a seat on a bar stool. There were two women bartending, both with their backs to him. The closest one w
as petite in size and wore a black beanie, black leggings on her tight, toned legs, a black silky thermal top that came to her thighs and a white apron, somehow managing to make the simple undergarments look fashionable. When she turned to get his order, a smile split her face.

  He felt the same silly thing happen to him. “Lily Rose.”

  5

  “WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT my middle name?” There was a teasing lilt in those whiskey-colored eyes as Lily spoke. “Have you been enjoying yourself?”

  “More so now.” Reaching out, Logan put his hand over hers and felt the icy cold of her skin sing along his. “Holy smokes.”

  “I know. I’m a Popsicle. I just got in a few minutes ago.”

  He entwined her fingers in his and gave a little squeeze, trying to give her some of his warmth. She had short, unpainted fingernails that looked as if maybe she sometimes chewed them, and a silver heart ring on her right thumb, which he glided a finger over. He felt a little tremor go through her body, but didn’t flatter himself. The woman was frozen solid. “Lily, you need a hot shower. How’s your knee?”

  “I haven’t had a chance to look at it today.”

  “And I thought I was dedicated.”

  She laughed again, a soft, musical sound that seemed to wrap around him. “I’m glad to see you here. I figured I scared you off good yesterday, what with all the drama.”

  “Nah.” Odd how his restlessness had vanished. Granted, being with this woman wasn’t exactly a leisurely vacation, but he thought that what they could share for the next few days might be a lot better. “You should come live a day in my life sometime. I’m not talking just ski-slope opera drama, either. We face a wider variety of stupidity.”

  Her smile was slow and sexy. “You’re not scaring me off.”

  “I wasn’t trying to. So why are you working the bar?”

  “Matt’s running late.”

  “Matt?”

  “Remember Sara?”

  “The sister worried about you stealing another Jeep?”

  “That’s the one. Matt’s her husband. He’s the bartender tonight, I’m just filling in until he gets here.”

  “You have a big family. I met your aunt Debbie.”

  “Ah.” She looked him over. “I see she let you go without sinking her teeth into you. She must be losing her touch.”

  “Maybe I wasn’t interested.”

  She shrugged, but he would have sworn that his answer pleased her. Still, she backed up, spread out her white apron and bowed. “What can I get you tonight?”

  If she only knew. “Whatcha got?”

  “A little of everything. Hot, cold, spicy, sweet…name your poison.”

  “Hmm.” He found himself smiling, feeling totally alive. And incredibly, arousingly aware. “How about something slow, with a kick.”

  Her eyes darkened just a little. “Are we still talking drinks?”

  “That, too.”

  A variety of emotions crossed her face. Excitement. Thrill. Nerves. The combination was wickedly stimulating.

  Her gaze dropped to his mouth while she dragged her lower lip between her teeth. He’d bet his last buck she was thinking about their kiss.

  Good. That made two of them.

  “Something slow with a kick…” She turned away to survey all the possibilities.

  He snagged her wrist, waiting until she looked at him. Her hand was still icy, but now her lips were chattering, too. He’d been outside all day too many times to miss the signs. She was badly chilled.

  “No,” she said, and pulled free.

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You were going to tell me to go get warm, and you’ll help out while I do.”

  “It’s not a bad plan.”

  “Except…”

  “You’re not a woman who likes needing help?”

  “No. But thank you,” she added softly. “It’s sweet. You’re sweet.”

  “What I’m thinking about is quite probably the furthest thing from sweet you’ve ever seen. Do you want to know what I’m thinking?”

  She stared at him, shivered hard. “Yes.”

  He had to laugh. No woman he’d ever known would have said yes. “I’m thinking of all the ways I can warm you up.” He leaned forward. “With—”

  She put a finger to his lips. “You’re warming me up already. You have a way of looking at me, Logan White.”

  “Do I?”

  “Like you want to gobble me up.”

  “Does that frighten you?”

  “Nothing frightens me.”

  Someone down the bar gestured for a refill, and she smiled her apology and moved toward them. A lanky guy with a head of dark curls made his way behind the bar and gave her a big bear hug with a smacking kiss right on the lips.

  Matt, Logan assumed.

  Lily stripped out of her apron and a moment later came to Logan’s side with two whiskey shots. She sat down next to him, picked up her glass and lifted it in a toast. “To warmth on a snowy winter’s eve.”

  He lifted his glass, too, and touched it to hers. “To being warm together on a winter’s eve.”

  Her lips curved. “Even better.”

  He agreed. And though he rarely drank anything harder than a beer, he took the shot.

  She did the same, then swiped her mouth with her arm and smiled. “That should help.”

  “Yeah, so would—”

  “Lily Rose.” A woman who looked remarkably like Lily came up to them. She had Lily’s brown, bouncy long curls, Lily’s whiskey eyes, though not as happy, and Lily’s face, only at least ten years older. Her mouth tightened at the shot glass in Lily’s hand. “I need a moment.”

  “Now’s bad.”

  “Please.”

  Logan could tell the word, uttered sincerely, surprised Lily, and she nodded. “All right. Excuse me,” she said to him.

  He watched her follow her sister out of the bar, limping fairly steadily on that knee as she went. He set a ten-dollar bill on the bar to pay for the two whiskeys and then followed the two women, not exactly sure why he felt so dead set on getting Lily warmed up and fed. Old habits, he thought—that same protective instinct that hundreds of SAR call-outs had honed—but the knowledge didn’t stop him. He figured it had been way too long since anyone had protected Lily.

  Lily and her sister stood off in a dim corner of the hallway.

  “For God’s sake, Lily Rose! You can’t drink with the guests! It’s bad enough people are talking about the missing out-of-bounds signs, now they’ll worry about the wild woman who runs this place.”

  “People are not talking.”

  “Yes, they are. You shouldn’t be behind that bar, you have a crew. Honestly, if you can’t manage this thing, I told you I could step in, but you never ask for help.”

  “Hold on.” Lily let out a low laugh. “I don’t need your help.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “Look, I’m killing myself to manage this resort, and I’m doing a damn fine job of it. If you don’t think so, you can just bite me.”

  “Bite me? Is that the mature response here?”

  “It’s an honest one.”

  “You were drinking. With a guest.”

  “Well, clearly, I’m going to hell.”

  “Lily Rose—”

  Logan vowed never to tease her with the name Rose again.

  Lily leaned into Gwyneth. “I don’t have to explain myself but I’m going to because I’m feeling charitable. I’ve never had a drink with a guest before.”

  “Really? How about that time you were found on the floor of the bar, nuzzling directly from the beer on tap? You weren’t alone.”

  “I was sixteen. And okay, yes, I was with the daughter of a guest, but she was sixteen, too. I paid for that mistake, you know I did. Grandpa nearly killed me. And Grandma made me clean all the toilets and showers in the inn, daily, for my entire sophomore year.”

  “I’m just saying.”

  Lily rubbed her face. “Gwyn
eth, I’ve had a long day. I’m cold and wet. I’m going to my room to shower.”

  “And then?”

  “Whatever strikes my fancy.”

  “I worry about you, Lily.”

  “No, you worry about Bay Moon, and how long it’ll take me to screw up. I’m not going to. Get used to that.”

  “Is that what you think? That I’m just watching for you to screw up? My God, Lily. Really?”

  Lily rubbed her temples. “I’m too tired for this. Good night, Gwyneth.”

  “Good night.” Gwyneth sighed. “Just…be careful, will you?”

  “Always.” They both turned to go their separate ways.

  Logan knew the exact moment Lily saw him because she lifted a brow. “Logan. This is my sister, Gwyneth.”

  Gwyneth shook his hand while giving him the eagle eye. “How long are you staying with us?”

  “The rest of the week.”

  “By yourself?”

  “Gwyneth—” Lily said warningly.

  “Yes,” Logan answered. “I’m by myself, on vacation.”

  “Which we already messed up yesterday,” Lily said. “When he jumped in and helped me on patrol. By the way, we’re comping you one of your days,” she told him. “And some entertainment stuff, too, like snowmobile riding, maybe ice skating…whatever you want.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “Yes,” she said. “It is.”

  So formal suddenly, and so distant. He wondered what had happened. Had it been her sister hammering at her? No, she didn’t seem the type to care what anyone else thought.

  She moved away from Gwyneth and he walked with her. “Just two sisters, right?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Yes. Thankfully.” And as she had from her sister, she turned away. “I’ll see you, Logan.”

  “Count on it.” He watched her go, wondering how to reach her again, or if he even wanted to.

  But he knew he did.

  Very much.

  LILY DIDN’T SEE LOGAN AGAIN that night. After her shower, Aunt Debbie showed up in her room with a gift of gorgeous silver-and-crystal earrings, regaling her with her New York life and how great it had been over the past year.