Nobody's Business (Nobody Romances) (19 page)

"Am I that obvious?"

"Not to Max" She pointed up the mountain with one of her
poles.

Doug turned in that direction and blinked. Not once, but
three times. Still, the image remained. The skier might have
escaped notice, except for the traffic-cone orange caution bib
plastered to his chest. But on a mountain fraught with injured
and handicapped skiers of all types, Max wouldn't necessarily stand out. His companion, on the other hand, might cause
a stir. A thick, black Labrador retriever trotted alongside the
man, barking to direct each turn of the skis.

"A skiing eye dog?" Doug quipped.

Kerri-Sue snorted. "Cute. But I'm betting even Shiloh's
noticed your obsession."

"Shiloh?"

"The dog"

"Uh-huh. I got that. I just wondered about the name. Why
Shiloh?"

The force of Kerri-Sue's laughter could start an avalanche.

Doug frowned. "What's so funny?"

"Anyone else would have been curious about Max before we
discussed the dog. Something like, `Is that guy really blind?' or
`Isn't that dangerous?' But not you."

He shrugged. "I've seen blind skiers before. But with human
guides. Shiloh's the first dog guide I've seen on a ski slope."

"You've seen blind skiers before." She didn't phrase the
statement as a question, but she gave him an X-ray look, as if
she could see straight into his insides.

Compressing his lips into a tight line, he remained mute.
He'd probably already said too much.

She waited. A beat, maybe more. Finally, she gripped her
poles and bent forward. "Come on. Let's finish this run. Then
I'll buy you the nonalcoholic hot beverage of your choice while you change your boots. We can hang out in the lodge until
Lyn shows up. Just try not to look so pathetic, okay?"

With his goggles replaced over his eyes, he pushed off
on his lone pole and began the last series of slaloms to the
lodge.

Pathetic? Hardly. Not when he considered where he was six
months ago. Or even three weeks ago, when he first arrived
here. He'd nearly come to blows with the physical therapy
staff, his instructor, and Brooklyn Raine. He cringed when he
thought about how much energy he'd expended to prove them
wrong when all he'd needed was the right woman to prove
them right. No, not the right woman. The right story.

Now every turn of the skis made him stronger, more secure,
and ready to tackle the enigma that was Lyn Hill/Brooklyn
Raine.

Keeping up his speed, he bypassed the lift line that led to
another trip up in favor of the wooden tripod ski racks on the
fringes of the base area. He pulled to a stop and used his pole
to pop his bindings, releasing his boots from the skis.

Seconds later, Kerri-Sue pulled up beside him. "Congratulations." She clicked open her bindings, then bent to gather
her skis. "I gotta tell you, I had my doubts about you when we
first started. But you turned out to be one of my best students
ever."

She probably told every student the same thing, but Doug
basked in the praise anyway.

"Come on." With their skis and poles locked to the rack, they
clumped up the wooden staircase to the lodge's outdoor deck. "I
could groove on a hot chocolate myself. How about you?"

He suddenly felt the dryness in his throat and, despite the
frigid temperatures, replied, "Something cold."

A sudden shriek stopped their conversation, and Doug
swerved his attention to a growing crowd encircling something or someone at the edge of one of the lift lines.

"Look over there." She pointed a gloved finger toward the
triple chairlift. The circle of people clamored, jumping, reaching cell phones and cameras in the air. "I'm guessing they just
found your pal Ace."

"I'm surprised it took them so long."

She expelled a generous breath through pursed lips. "I'm
surprised it took him so long."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on. He's your friend. You should know how he uses
his fame to impress the girls. Same routine every time he's here.
He keeps a low profile when he first arrives until he finally finds
his flavor of the week. Then, suddenly, he's pulling some sweetfaced girl away from the crowd with an `Easy there, everybody.
My girlfriend's not used to this kind of attention.' About as
subtle as a ten-pound bag of quarters to the face, but the results
are the same. Poor girl's seeing stars. At least till the end of the
week."

"And at the end of the week?"

"He's on to another ski resort and another girl." Cocking her
head, she studied him with a hardened expression. "Which
begs the question, how on earth can you be friends with such
a shallow, callous boy? You're more than a decade older. I
don't get it."

"Oh, well, maybe that's because you don't really know the
parameters of my relationship with Ace."

"And they are ... ?"

None of your business.

Hmmm ... Probably not the best reply. He'd have to stick
with the same story he gave to Lyn. Safer that way, anyway. The
fewer lies he told, the stronger his disguise remained. "Ace and
I aren't friends. We're more like business colleagues"

"Yeah, that's what Richie said when I asked him too. And
that tells me a whole lotta nothing." Her eyes glittered like ice
chips. "Maybe I should just Google you."

He kept his face a mask of nonchalance and shrugged. "Go
ahead. If you dig deep enough, I bet you'll learn all the nittygritty details. Really important stuff like the name of my kindergarten teacher, my grade-point average in college, and my
shoe size."

"Actually, I learned a lot more than that."

His limbs itched to squirm, but he dug in his heels-literally
and figuratively. "Oh? Found out my favorite movie too?"

"Not quite. Did you know there's actually a reporter for The
Sportsman with the same name as you?"

The dryness in his throat spread to his bloodstream, and
sweat broke out on his neck. But he kept his expression bland,
his tone light with a lilt of conversational surprise. "No kidding?"

"No kidding. Got me curious. So I called The Sportsman's
office. Know what I found out? Seems that Doug Sawyer's
been on hiatus after a Humvee accident in Iraq."

"Wow. That's quite a coincidence."

"Ya think?" she retorted. Shaking her head slowly, she sighed.
"You know, ordinarily, I'd kick your butt from here to Montpelier. But Richie Armstrong is no idiot. He would have checked
you out thoroughly before giving you the green light for the
program."

"So?"

"So I'm gonna let it go for now. But ..." Expression hard as
granite, she bounced an index finger near his face. "Watch
yourself. Obviously you're here because you need to be here.
And like I said, despite your rocky start, you've become one
of my best students ever. Now you and Lyn seem to have
something going between you, which is nice. If it's for real. If
it's not for real, this town will take you apart piece by piece."

If Lyn stood any closer to the lodge's enormous natural riverstone hearth, her hair would catch fire. Already, smoke clung
to her ski jacket and sweater. Despite the blaze of heat behind
her, shivers racked her bones and prickled her skin. Her stomach flipped like a member of Cirque du Soleil. Even with her
gloves off, her palms dampened with sweat. The buzz of a hundred conversations occurred around her, but she barely heard
them over the thunderous pounding of her heart.

Only two things could stir up these symptoms. And flu season was still a month away. The blood in her veins effervesced,
making her feel lighter than air.

She owed this topsy-turvy feeling to the man she'd just
spotted seated in the lodge. Admitting her attraction, even
if just to herself, released a tremendous weight from her shoulders. If she stood on a precipice right now, she knew
she could fly.

Perhaps his size drew her gaze to him immediately. Douglas Sawyer was built like a professional linebacker yet moved
with graceful purpose. Kerri-Sue sat beside him, her expression stern while she attempted to hold what Lyn assumed was
an in-depth conversation. If Doug was listening to whatever
Kerri-Sue attempted to tell him, he did so while he scanned
the throngs at the lunch tables packing up their gear.

His eyes found hers and locked there as a wide smile spread
across his cold-roughened features. Never allowing his focus
to stray from her, he rose. Sidestepping the extended legs of
skiers who removed boots, duffel bags packed and ready for
departure, and coolers of iced drinks, he strode straight for
her.

The closer he came, the warmer she grew. His hazel gaze,
bright and intense, bathed her in strong golden sunlight. Finally, he stood in front of her, the Big Bad Wolf now resembling Prince Charming.

"Lyn." He bent and kissed her cheek.

A spark flashed in her heart, then skittered like a lit fuse
through her veins. "Doug."

"I'm glad you came."

So am I.

Kerri-Sue, out of breath, stopped behind Doug and poked
her head out from around his waist. "Oh, thank God you're
here. If he stopped at the last hill on Snow Can-Do to look for
you one more time, I would have skewered him on my ski pole.
You'd be having Doug kebabs for dinner."

Lyn's sappy side, long dormant, woke up warm and eager.
"He was looking for me?"

"For at least the last hour," Kerri-Sue replied. "Trust me.
I'm glad you came."

The windburn on his cheeks made discerning his flush nearly
impossible, but even in the dim light and dark wood paneling of
the ski lodge, Lyn noticed the subtle change and melted a little
more.

"That seems to be the general consensus," she admitted. "Besides, if I'd dared to try to back out, my sister would have
dragged me here by my hair."

He looked around the large open room. "Where is your
sister? Kerri-Sue and I should probably thank her too."

Lyn giggled at the disgruntled way he said Kerri-Sue's name.
"April's somewhere outside. Wanted to hook up with her fiance
and kids. They're here to ski, and their vacation week is almost
over."

"Well, you two have fun." Kerri-Sue waved her walkie-talkie.
"Doug, I'll radio one of the guys to stow our gear in the SkiHab center until tomorrow. Me? I plan to show off what an
idiot I am. In public. I've got a meeting with my son's math
teacher tonight. The kid's barely skidding by, grade-wise, and
I'm no help at all. I can do the basics: adding, multiplication,
division. Once Nate started bringing home Greek theories and
square roots, I was lost."

Another sigh, a pathetic headshake, and Kerri-Sue shuffled
off toward the employees' lounge, leaving Lyn facing Doug.

His eyes captivated her-sometimes green, sometimes
gold-but always appraising and approving. Her shivers had
disappeared, replaced with the languidness of a sauna's warmth.
Time stilled. The noisy lodge dissolved into a cozy oasis for her
and Doug alone.

Alone with Doug in a room crowded with apres-skiers. How
on earth could he make her feel like they were the only two
people in this lodge with just a look?

Finally aware that they simply stood and stared at each
other like empty, mismatched bookends, Lyn shook herself
out of her stupor and filled the silence. "So ... what do we do
now?"

He blinked and cleared his throat. "Would you mind coming back to my condo with me? At least so I can get Norm?"

"Norm?" Her happiness aura cooled several degrees. Had
she somehow mistaken his invitation? Did he plan to set her
up with a friend?

He shook his head. "Not Norm like Norman. Norm like
normal." He grabbed the cuff of his empty sleeve and wagged it near her. "Before we have dinner, I'd like to attach my prosthesis."

Rather than restoring her excitement, his admission only
depressed her more. "You still think the lack of an arm makes
you abnormal?"

"No." He unzipped his heavy jacket. "But I'm betting you're
not wearing a ski bib and four layers of clothes underneath
your coat. The prosthesis is just the beginning. I'd also like to
get out of this gear and into some regular clothes. In fact, I
wanted to run something by you. And please, if it makes you
uncomfortable, say so."

The chills returned, weak but evident. "What?"

For the first time since he'd strode toward her, he looked
away, focusing his attention somewhere above her. Or beyond
her. Definitely not at her.

"Well," he told the stone hearth, "like I said yesterday, I'm
not really comfortable behind the wheel just yet. Which is
why I thought it might be better if your sister dropped you off
here today. But I didn't really think it through. Because I hate
the idea of you going home by yourself in the dark after dinner. So I thought, if it's all right with you, we could go to my
place and order something delivered. Then Ace could drive
you home afterward."

She didn't know whether to be touched or humiliated. Was
he really concerned about her welfare, or did he have some
other reason to suggest they spend the evening with Ace?
Maybe after their last date, he thought she'd bore him silly.
Sure, between the long day and the painkillers, she hadn't exactly been the most scintillating dinner companion. But she'd
slept until well after nine this morning and had even skipped
her afternoon prescription dose, preferring to deal with the occasional twinge of pain rather than a continuous cloudy, fuzzy
feeling.

Maybe he worried that they had too little in common to
maintain a decent conversation? The hotshot sports rep and
the provincial little innkeeper? Of course, they had more in
common than he knew. He had no idea she was more than just the owner of a rural bed-and-breakfast. Which, of course, was
her fault. She wondered how he'd react if he knew who she
really was. Not that she'd tell him.

Or ... would she? Could she trust Doug with her secret?
The idea terrified her, but logic chastised her. For heaven's
sake, the man worked for Ace Riordan, a celebrity whose star
burned far brighter than hers these days. Besides, by now, who
really cared about her anyway? Maybe Mrs. Bascomb was
right.