For Her Eyes Only (16 page)

He closed the door to the chute and continued down the corridor, whistling as he went. He’d found something unexpected, but not what he was looking for. Time to keep moving, keep searching.

Maybe the garage? It was cold, dark, and unpleasant, and while it was accessible to all, it wasn’t really a high traffic area.

He left the main building and hurried across the hard-packed snow to the outbuilding. He had to pause briefly for his eyes to adjust from the blinding brightness outside to the gloom inside the large garage. Snowmobiles and the ATVs they used to transport the guests and staff around the resort were parked neatly, and behind them were the guests’ and employees’ vehicles—some capable of handling the snowy drive down the mountain, others more suitable to a racetrack. He grinned as he walked around the Lamborghini that Kurt and Paula had driven. Give him the racetrack, any day.

It took him a while, but he scanned each vehicle, each column, each nook in that garage. He skirted carefully around one dark sedan, the pool of moisture on the floor indicating it had been driven in the snow recently. He frowned. He wasn’t sure who owned this car, maybe one of the staff. His lips tilted. Maybe the enterprising staff doing a liquor delivery.

After an hour he shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on the balls of his feet as he surveyed the millions of dollars’ worth of metal in the garage. No receiver. Anywhere. Where the hell was it? He glanced out the main door for the garage into the snowy surrounds. What had begun as a sublime day was gradually darkening into a gloomy, miserable outlook. Pity. He would have liked to hit the trails, pack some powder.

But it wasn’t to be. A storm was brewing. It was a ways off down the valley, but soon the weather would worsen. He turned up the collar of his jacket and jogged back to the main building. It was cold. Perfect weather to snuggle in bed with a warm willing body. His thoughts turned to Mandy. He couldn’t hold a grudge for long. He had no right to be upset with her. Maybe he could track her down and they could talk.

He grinned. Or maybe they could do something else.

Chapter Twenty

“What is it that you really want to do?” Neil asked the group at large. They all stood at the crest of the mountain, chairlift creaking behind them, and snow-blanketed ski trails before them. They were above the tree line, and the vista was stunning. Clouds were white and fluffy above them, but grew to a gradual blend of dark gray in the distance, as though an artist had used a brush against the canvas of big sky. A storm was brewing.

For once, the picture-postcard perfection left Ryan unmoved.
Let’s just get on with it
. He shifted on his skis. The chill winds bit like sharp needles into the exposed skin between cap and scarf. He didn’t want to don his goggles until Neil and Gavin had finished whatever inspiring baloney they could dredge up and shovel to their gullible guests.

“What is it that you want to achieve with your life? What do you want to be?” Neil looked around expectantly.

Oh
,
God
,
it’s not a rhetorical question
,
the man actually wants answers
. Ryan shifted his gaze around the group. Vicky stood beside him, and was intently fidgeting with the strap on one of her stocks. She didn’t look at Neil or Gavin, nor did she look at Jeffrey and Margie. Or Ryan. Hell, she hadn’t looked at him since last night.

“Jeffrey, what would you like to achieve, to be?” Gavin asked the tall lawyer.

“I want to make partner,” the man replied instantly, and Ryan noticed Margie nodding in approval behind him.
Must be a joint goal
.

“What about you, Paula? What would you like, really?” Gavin asked, and Paula glanced uncertainly around the group. “It’s okay, Paula, we’re all friends here, and we all have hopes and dreams. What are yours?”

The young woman forced a smile. “Well, I guess I’d like to get some catwalk jobs, get out of the swimsuit calendars. Then I’d like to use that as a springboard to my own label—fashion, cosmetics, organic food, whatever.”

Ryan’s eyebrow rose. “Whatever” would be hard to brand.

“That’s a great plan, Paula. What about you, Deborah?” Neil asked, his smile reflecting the brightness of the snow.

Ryan shuddered.
Oh
,
please
,
don’t make this a bare-all session.
The powder was soft and fresh, the weather was great, and he had to talk about dreams.
Kill me now
. He tried to look interested as Deborah answered the question.

“Well,” she giggled, “this will probably sound silly,” she said.

“No dream is too big, too small or too silly, Deborah,” Neil encouraged her warmly.

Ryan decided it was time to don the goggles. It would make it harder for anyone to notice when he rolled his eyes.

“I want a family. I’d love to have several children, and start up a cupcake business.”

Ryan had to grab hold of Vicky, who had startled at Deborah’s remark. Vicky muttered a quiet thank-you as she schooled her features into polite interest.

Hank shifted on his skis. “Come on, Deb, we’ve talked about this.”

Deborah’s eager expression stuttered, as though someone had extinguished the light from the candle. “I know, babe, but Neil wanted to know what I really want.” She shrugged. “That’s what I really want.”

“What do you want, Hank?” Neil asked the broad-shouldered man at his side.

Hank sighed. “I want to build my company. I want to expand the business to the west coast, get a little momentum going.”

“And you can’t have kids for that to happen?” Gavin asked.

“I’d need to be away a considerable amount, building up the depots and offices.” Hank shrugged. “I’d never see my family.”

“What about your wife, Hank? Where do her needs and desires fit into your future plan?” Gavin asked, his polite smile masking the steel bite of his words.

Ryan frowned. That was kind of inappropriate, considering the life coach was sleeping with the guy’s wife. “Having kids has to be right for both of them, surely? Not just because one really, really wants it.” Crap. He hadn’t meant to support the guy.

Gavin met Ryan’s stare, and Ryan was glad he was wearing his goggles, and didn’t have to bother with hiding his distaste for the man.

“What about you, Peter? What are your plans for the future? Can we expect to hear the pitter-patter of little feet at the Winthrop home any time soon?”

Uh-huh
. Now he’d drawn fire. Must have hit a nerve. Ryan shook his head. “No, we’re not looking to have children any time soon.”
Not ever
. “I’m in a similar position to Hank. I want to move from residential estate development into the commercial market. More travel time. No kids.”

“No kids?” Vicky’s question was soft, almost unheard.

He glanced down at her and shook his head. “Nope.”
No kids.
Not
ever. He didn’t want to run the risk.

“What about you, Cassie, are you okay with that?” Neil asked.

“Uh, yes. I mean, I guess I have to be. Like my husband says, both partners need to want that.” Her tone was frosty, in complete contrast to the warm support of her words.

“Well, that’s fine for Paula and I,” Kurt offered. “We’ve decided that we don’t want children.” He turned to his wife, who gave him a gloved thumbs-up.

“Got that right, babe,” Paula said, nodding. “No babies are coming out of this body.”

Kurt grinned, his perfect white teeth blinding white against his tan as he turned back to the group. “See, both partners in complete accord on that one.”

Gavin shifted to look at Elliot and Jennifer. “What about you two?”

“I want to get into strategic management, get some shares,” Elliot answered.

“I want to branch out in my business, get my handbags into some department stores,” Jennifer stated in a tone that dared anyone to laugh. She eyed the group with a steely expression.

Neil nodded. “Okay. Well, today’s exercise is going to need each couple to work together—in complete accord,” he said, grinning. “I have here,” he held up some yellow envelopes, “a map for each couple. Together you will need to ski to the next point—marked on your maps—and look for another yellow envelope, which will hold a riddle for you both to solve in order to discover where the next checkpoint is. Bear in mind, each couple has a different map, a different point, a different trail, so it’s no good following another couple. You have to forge your own trail, just like in life, you have to take your own path to realize the power to achieve your dreams comes from within.”

Vicky made a gagging sound next to Ryan that she quickly masked under a cough.
My sentiments
,
exactly.

“Okay, each of you has water, flashlight and a walkie-talkie in your packs, and now your maps,” Neil said as he handed a yellow envelope to each couple. “It’s time for your journey to begin. Gavin and I will see you down the bottom of the mountain in a couple of hours.”

The two counselors waited until each of the couples had a chance to review their maps before Gavin held up a starter’s gun. “Ready, set, go!” He squeezed the trigger, and each couple took off on their designated track.

* * *

Ryan followed Vicky along the trail, the soft swish of skis seemingly the only noise to disturb the tranquility of the mountain. They’d skied below the tree line, and had lost sight of the other couples. The sun sparkled on the snow through the trees, creating a glittering contrast between light and shade. In those sunny patches the snow was so bright it hurt to look at it. He glanced at the woman in front of him. It hurt to look at her, too.

In her figure-hugging black leggings and white ski jacket, she looked like a sexy but self-righteous snow bunny ready for play, with her furred hood and curvy legs.

Okay, so maybe he was stretching it with the self-righteous tag. She looked...hot. So he tried not to look. But she was in front of him, damn it. She was like the pendulum on a grandfather clock, her movements eye-catching and entrancing.

He’d managed to avoid looking at Vicky last night, when she’d crept into bed under the cover of darkness in her silk boxers and flirty top and her hair brushed to a silken fiery gold. Nope, hadn’t looked at all. Had managed to avoid looking at her as she huffed and muttered away in her sleep, her rosebud lips pouting in a carnal invitation he’d fought to ignore. Hadn’t seen it. Had managed to avoid looking at her as she’d stretched and yawned as she’d woken, the soft sheets dropping to her waist and exposing her firm midriff as her top had ridden up, yet had stopped short at her breasts. Damn it. Who was he kidding? He’d perved like a teenager with his first dirty magazine.

He paused for a moment and checked the map. He had to refocus. They had to make their way to the first point, whereupon they would find a ticket with instructions that would point them in the direction to their second point, and so on until they’d successfully passed four points. Each couple’s map was designed to both challenge and motivate. He snorted. Right. Did Gavin and Neil really believe the back-slapping, rah-rah crap they called performance improvement? He started skiing again. Vicky hadn’t stopped. He had the map, but she was in the lead.
Go figure.
She’d taken a few moments to look at the map, nodded, then handed it back to him.

The problem was, she was going in exactly the right direction.

She was stewing over last night, too. He could tell. During the night her sleepy conversations were all about swingers, buttercups and leather. He wondered what the hell she’d been dreaming about.

Well, never mind. He was stewing, too. He had a job to do, damn it. He’d do what he had to, to get the job done. That was his motto. So why did his little mantra now sit with him about as comfortably as a silk shirt that had shrunk in the wash? He glared at Vicky, whose hips were swishing this way and that like a provocative cat’s tail as she maneuvered along the trail.

How did she see him, now? As some sort of James Bond gigolo? That would make him...well, that would make him Drew. He was the Chameleon, damn it. It was what he was good at, assuming an identity and running with it. She was getting a look behind the masks, and he feared she didn’t like what she saw.

He’d seen her mortification last night, at Jeffrey and Margie’s cabin. He’d also seen her fear. What would she have done if she’d been alone? Would she have been able to brazen it out? He shuddered at what could have happened.

Damn it, she should be back in Chicago. He’d come home from a mission, they’d have a few beers, a few laughs, probably a few arguments. And he’d relax and be himself. Not the undercover agent she was seeing now, warts and all. Would they ever be able to just be friends again? She knew what he was capable of. Actually, she still had no clue what he was truly capable of, and if he had it his way, she never would. Damn it, why should it matter what she thought of him?

Because you like her
,
dumbass
. There. He dug his ski stock in the snow with vicious force. So he liked her, so what? He liked that she treated him like an honest-to-God human being, that she was totally direct with him. It made him feel...visible. That was one of the problems with this job. You tried on so many different faces, so many different names, you gradually lost sight of your own identity. You blended in with your surroundings, you went with the flow, and you became...invisible.

Vicky made him feel like she saw him, as he really was. And she still gave him the time of day. Okay, so maybe there were times when he wished she wouldn’t, but overall he liked her seeing him. She was the only one who did “see” him. The other MSA guys respected him, but if he weren’t here tomorrow, would it matter to them? Vicky made him feel like he mattered.

Unfortunately, she was seeing more of him on this job then he’d ever wanted to show her. And now she wouldn’t even look at him. For someone who made a living of flying under the radar, being ignored by Vicky was like using a cheese grater on skin.

He sped up until he was skiing with her on the trail. She didn’t look at him.

“Nice day for a ski.”
Crap
. Could he be any more mundane? A flash of yellow caught his eye, and he slid to a stop. “Wait up, there’s the first envelope.”

Vicky skied over to the tree, raised her goggles and looked up. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

The envelope was tacked to a branch at least nine feet off the ground. “Are we supposed to climb it?” she asked, and peered over her shoulder at him.

Finally, she was talking to him. He eyed the tree and shook his head. “None of those branches will hold our weight.”

She lifted her pole and tried to swat at it, but the envelope was placed just out of range of her pole, his too, if he tried.

“What if we throw something at it, to make it fall down?”

“It’s tacked on. One of us is going to have to get up there and get it.”

“How?”

He looked at her. He didn’t think she was going to like his suggestion. “I guess this is where that teamwork rubbish comes in.”

She frowned, and looked from him to the envelope and back again. “Huh?”

He let his stocks dangle from the cord around his wrists. “I’ll give you a lift.”

Her frown deepened. “Are you serious?” Her expression looked hopeful, as though maybe he wasn’t. He grinned.

“Yep.” He beckoned her over. “Come on. Get out of your skis, and I’ll boost you.”

“I’m wearing ski boots, Ryan.”

“Okay, I’ll lift you. Either way, I think that’s probably the only way we’re going to get near that envelope.”

She eyed the envelope, and sighed. “Fine.” She depressed the levers on her skis and slid her boots out. She walked over to him, and he chewed the inside of his cheek. She’d looked all graceful and lithe, skiing down the trail. Now, her boots sinking into the soft powder, she moved like a praying mantis in stilettos. She took smaller steps until she stood in front of him. A light floral scent, fun and flirty, drifted across the narrow space between them, and he found himself trying to guess it.
Like I know perfumes
. He wondered absently if Drew would know, then thought he’d have to punch his lights out if he did.