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The sight of her stirred something so basic in him that he had to inhale a deep breath to level out his thoughts. He took in the deep amber eyes, the lift of her chin, the flame of her hair. Old goggles hung around her neck, and plain knit gloves covered her hands. She wasn’t his type—at least, he’d never thought “tiny and cute” could be sexy—but he knew better right then. He’d always been a risk taker in every sense of the word, and he had a niggling feeling that being attracted to this woman was risk taking at its best. He didn’t back down. He didn’t even care that she was staring at him as if he’d stolen the crown jewels.
Chapter Three
Holly spotted the red first, the flash of color where there shouldn’t be color, then she’d heard the sound. The echoing voice that rang through the valley, bouncing off the mountains. She hesitated going closer, then couldn’t stand not going to see who was there. Few ever got up this way, except…That made her move faster. Except Jack Prescott’s people, surveying the land by hers. She dug in, partly gliding on the snow and partly sinking in spots. She awkwardly made her way to the sound. Through the trees she saw a single man by the ridge.
He yelled again, letting his voice echo at him, then he made a grab for his poles. Someone from the resort? One of Prescott’s men? They were on her land. She hurried, shouted to him, “Hey, there!”
She went forward for the widest opening in the trees, pushing hard to move faster, and broke out of the snow-laden grove directly across from the single person. He was turning, the bloodred of his vest brilliant against the clear blue sky behind him. Fancy clothes, she thought, expensive skis. Reflective glasses that bounced back at her the glint of the morning sun. She skied closer to him, ready to tell him to get off her property, then she realized the intruder was Cain Stone.
That stopped her within two ski lengths of him. She took a gulping breath, then demanded, “What are you doing here?”
He looked unruffled at her arrival, almost as if he was enjoying it. “I’m not going to be basket weaving,” he said with the hint of a smile twitching at his lips. She had no idea what was in his eyes. The glasses just reflected her own, distorted image.
She’d taken this run for years, and she had no doubt she could ski it, but she didn’t know too many others who would even try, except Cain Stone and his cohorts years ago. Back then she’d thought they had to be either stupid or arrogant. Now she realized this man had to be both. “You aren’t going to ski down, so why don’t you go back that way.” She motioned behind her. “There’s a road about a quarter mile beyond the trees. If you’re lucky, you can hitch a ride back to town.”
She expected him to get angry or annoyed, but she didn’t expect him to laugh right out loud. The sound echoed around them. “I don’t hitchhike,” he finally said.
“Do you read signs?”
“Every one of them.”
“How about the Private Property signs you had to pass on the way here?”
His laughter was gone now. “I read every one of them.”
“Then get off this land. It’s private.”
“I don’t see a badge.”
“What?”
“I assumed that you’re some sort of security, policing this area.”
She shook her head. “It’s private land.”
“Oh, and you own it?”
She stared right at him. “Damn straight I do.”
She couldn’t tell if she’d shocked him or not. His expression didn’t change—at least, she didn’t think it did. And she couldn’t see his eyes. “How?” was all he said.
“How what?”
“How could you own it?”
“All you need to know is I own it. And this isn’t a public run. It’s posted, and—”
“The kid,” he exclaimed. “You’re the kid, aren’t you?”
“What kid?”
“The hair. I remember the hair. Jennings coming after us, and you running up behind him, a tiny little thing, but with a booming voice.” He smiled suddenly, an expression that shook her. “You’d yell, ‘Get off my mountain,’while Jennings threatened to shoot us on the spot.”
Her dad had been furious at their intrusion. “I’ll skin them alive,” he’d say. “Maybe shoot them, too.” But he never caught up with them. As she and her father had come out of the trees, one by one the boys had turned and taken off. By the time she got to the edge, the boys were shooting down the run, their voices echoing into the mountains as they yelled, “Yahoo!” Then she’d go back to the cabin with her dad, and while she’d wait for her mother to pick her up, she’d keep the fire going and watch her father get drunker and drunker, all the while muttering about “those blasted teenagers.”
“You were trespassing back then, too,” she murmured, not wanting to remember that time of her life clearly.
“You’re…” He thought for a second. “Molly?”
“It’s Holly, and you’re still trespassing.”
He didn’t move. “Tell me one thing, Holly.”
“What?”
“Did he really have a gun?”
She was so shocked that she almost smiled. She didn’t intend to smile with this man, or have this conversation. “No, he didn’t, but he didn’t want you on his land, and neither do I.”
The next question rocked her. “Is that why you hate me? Because I used the run when Jennings didn’t want me to?”
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
He actually came closer, his skis spreading right and left to go on the outside of hers. He got within two feet of her, and he towered over her. She forced herself not to retreat. If she moved, she’d fall into him, tangle with his skis, and this whole situation would be even more embarrassing.
He leaned toward her, erasing even more space between them. “You know, that look, as if I’m two rungs below the lowest rung on the ladder of humanity.”
“You’re crazy,” she said quickly, but didn’t sound very convincing even to her ears.
“Am I?” he asked, and she was certain she felt the suggestion of heat from his breath touch her face.
She shook her head. “Yes, you are.”
“And you don’t hate me?”
She couldn’t tell a lie of that magnitude. “What difference would it make if I did?”
He was very still for a long moment. Then, without warning, he leaned even closer, cupped her chin with his gloved hand. “A hell of a lot of difference,” he whispered roughly. Then he let her go before she could think of how to react, and expertly turned without hitting her skis. With a glance back at her, he moved to the edge of the run, dug in, and in the next instant he pushed off and was away. His voice echoed to her, “Yahoo!” over and over again.
She hurried to the edge, saw the path he cut in the snow and saw him take the jump at the outcropping with ease. She’d been ready to ski the run herself, and she wasn’t going to let him change her plans. She flipped up her goggles, then pushed off herself. Never glancing away from the bright red vest, she made the jump cleanly, and landed with knees bent at almost the exact spot he’d landed.
She kept going, her eyes on him ahead of her, and she saw his mistake an instant before he made it. She screamed, “Left, left,” but there was no time for him to adjust. He didn’t go left, kept going straight ahead, no doubt figuring that the even snow beyond was safe. But it wasn’t. She knew it wasn’t. There’d been a rock slide in the summer, and there was now a crater in the mountain where it hadn’t been before. The snow that hid it was soft, and the instant he hit the softness, he sank. His skis caught, and he went flying forward, skis over head. She slowed, swept left and back, then she skied sideways to a stop near where he was sprawled awkwardly in the snow. One ski had been released from its bindings, coming to rest near his head, and the other ski was on its side, twisted with his foot. She couldn’t see his poles anywhere.
She pushed with her poles, skied sideways, approaching the hole of snow, and carefully picked her way over to where he’d ended up, no more than three feet from a huge pine. He wasn’t moving, just lying facedown in the snow. She didn’t like him. She didn’t like his kind, but that didn’t stop her heart from rising in her throat. “Are you okay?” she yelled.
She bent down, unsnapped her bindings, then trudged over to him. She stooped by him, her knees sinking in the powdery snow. She reached for him, grabbing his vest, but was afraid to move him in case she did more harm to him than good. “Cain,” she breathed. “Can you hear me?”
He stirred then, and she pulled back. He pushed one hand into the snow, then slowly turned until he was on his back. His goggles were still in place and they reflected her image and caught the sunlight behind her. She couldn’t see any blood on him, but he moved very cautiously as he lifted a hand to take off his glasses. She was looking into eyes filled with the same laughter that was twitching at his lips. “Face-plant,” he muttered as he shoved himself up and realigned his single ski. “I haven’t done that since…” He shrugged as he swiped at the snow that clung to his face and hair and grinned at her. “Too long ago to remember.”
She sank back on her heels. “It’s not funny. You could have killed yourself.”
He swiped his glasses off, then slipped them back on. “I’m not dead. Just ended up with hurt pride,” he murmured. “But it does hurt.” He glanced past her up the hill. “What happened—rocks messed up or a sinkhole?”
“Rocks,” she said. “They had a slide in the summer and it left a good-sized pocket.”
“Well, live and learn,” he said, pushing himself up to his feet. He turned to her and held out a gloved hand.
She ignored it and got to her feet herself. She brushed at her pants, then managed to make herself look up at him. She motioned to the east. “Go down that way and you’re at the fence for the resort.”
He reached for his errant ski and put it back on. Then he scanned the area. “My poles,” he said, going past her. She watched him digging into the snow, then coming up with both poles. “Lucky they stuck together,” he said.
“It doesn’t bother you that you could have broken your neck?” She motioned to the huge pine that would have been his stopping place if the soft snow hadn’t slowed him.
He came back to where she stood, meshing his skis with hers the way he had at the top. “Oh, I’m not worried about my neck,” he said. “And what’s life without taking chances.” He grinned. “It’s a rush.”
“A face-plant is a rush?” she muttered.
He laughed. “I guess so.”
“Just stay off my land,” she said, and made her way to the run again. She paused, glanced over her shoulder and was taken aback to find him right behind her. “Go on to the fancy resort and use their runs.”
“Sensible,” he said. “But then again, I’ve never been accused of being sensible.” He moved past her, shot her a quick look, then pushed off, heading farther down the run.
She watched him go, and knew she wasn’t skiing anymore today. The time she’d wanted to spend alone, to sort out things, was gone. She undid her skis, put them and her poles over her shoulder and started back up. No lifts here, just good old-fashioned climbing. She heard a shout from below, but didn’t turn. If he face-planted again, he was on his own.
That thought made her smile and she caught herself. It wasn’t funny if he got hurt, yet she couldn’t help but hope he was in the soft snow again, face first, and this time he wouldn’t be able to find his poles.
CAIN MADE IT BACK to his cottage the long way around, skiing parallel to the resort until he got to the south end of the property and went in a service gate. By the time he’d walked to his cabin, he was ready for a hot shower and dry, clean clothes. But all the time he showered and cleaned up, his thoughts were on standing on the ridge at the top of the run.
The teacher who’d looked at him as though he were an insect was Holly, and Holly was the kid. The red-haired kid. The screamer. The little hellion who’d threatened him and his friends. He laughed as he soaped up in the shower. She’d grown up to be just as much a hellion. Teacher or not. She had a temper and she owned the land. Added to that, she was starting to bring out more than a bit of lust in him. He never thought he went for redheads or for tiny women. Certainly never a teacher. Everything Holly was. He laughed again softly as he stepped out of the shower.
He dried off and got dressed in black slacks, a black turtleneck and boots. He put on his leather jacket and went out again, choosing to walk to the main building. It was snowing lightly, and before he’d gone more than twenty feet, one of the electric carts used at the resort drove up to him. A bundled-up attendant was driving it.
“Sir? Where may I take you?”
Cain climbed in and said, “The lodge, to see Mr. Prescott.”
“Yes, sir,” the attendant said, and he took off quickly. He stopped at the side entrance, and smiled at Cain. “Dial star 9 and ask for James when you need a ride back.”
“You bet, James,” he said, then stepped out and headed to the door. Once inside, he went to the private elevator, punched in the code, and the doors opened. But this time the car was empty. No Holly. He hit the up button, and moments later he was stepping out of the elevator into Jack’s outer room. He started for the inner door, but hesitated when he heard Jack speaking to someone.
“I’ve tried to understand this, but I can’t. All I can come up with is you’re going after more money, and if that’s the case…” His words trailed off, and Cain waited by the door for someone to respond. When no one did, he assumed Jack was on the phone, and pushed the door back to step into Jack’s suite.
He’d barely taken two steps, when he halted in his tracks. Jack wasn’t on the phone at all. He was talking to Holly. She was sitting on one of the two sofas by the fireplace, and Jack was standing over her. His whole attitude was subtly intimidating, and in that moment, Cain didn’t like it. He spoke up, getting their attention. “Well, look who’s here,” he drawled as he went closer to the two of them.
Both turned at the sound of his voice. Jack looked taken aback, but pleased. The man was in all black—another intimidation thing. Holly glanced at Cain, and he could see color dotting her cheeks; her mouth was set in a straight line. But this time the expression in her eyes wasn’t for Cain. She was furious, and he realized it had to be with Jack. “You made it down?” he asked her.
She stood quickly, forcing Jack to back up or make contact. He chose to back up. She was on her feet, appearing very vulnerable, skin pale next to her flaming hair, and wearing old jeans and a loose sweatshirt with the UNLV logo on it. “I went up, but you made it, obviously,” she said with a glance at him, before she looked back at Jack. “That’s about all I have to say,” she said, and moved away from Jack, toward Cain where she stopped and tilted her head to look up at him.
There was no anger in those amber eyes this time, just a subtle sense of—what? Desperation? Frustration? God, he wished he could read her expressions. She seemed so tiny in regular clothes, and he could see the rapid, shallow breaths lifting her high breasts under the old fleece of the sweatshirt.
For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what this woman was thinking at any given time. She wasn’t playing games; he was sure of that. There was no subtle baiting and flirting. Too bad, actually, that his lust, for lack of a better word, was so one-sided. “Can you move?” she asked in a low voice.
“I could,” he murmured, and saw the color come back into her cheeks. Her eyes were getting brighter. Tears? That shocked him. He glanced at Jack, who was watching both of them, and he heard himself saying something he hadn’t known he was going to say. “She’s the kid. The one who chased us off Old Man Jennings’ run years ago.” He looked back at Holly, but kept speaking to Jack. “Remember her yelling at us to get off her mountain?”
Jack laughed softly at that. “Yeah, I remember.”
Holly turned to Jack. “It still holds. Stay off my mountain,” she said, then spun to face Cain. “And that includes you.”
Cain held up one hand. “Whoa. I don’t have a clue what’s going on but all I did was ski one run.”
He could see her gather herself, and when she spoke, her voice was level, though tight. “All he wants to take is the whole mountain.”
“Get back to me later,” Jack said. “Think on it. Consider the offer.”
She slipped past Cain, and when she got to the door, she had her hand on the handle. “I don’t have to think on it or consider the offer. There’s no deal. It’s not for sale.” With that she left, closing the door quietly behind her.
“What in the hell was that all about?” he asked Jack.
“I want her property, and she’s playing hard to get,” he said as he crossed to the built-in bar. “Drink?”
“No, nothing,” Cain said. “What do you want it for?”
“To expand, give the guests a tougher run. And to…” He turned with a drink in his hand. He shrugged. “It’s right behind us, and I want it.”
“Like the old adage about climbing a mountain because it’s there?” he asked.
Jack crossed to the couch again. “I guess so. It’s great land, a fantastic run that can be developed for the guests to enjoy, and it’s totally private. Perfect,” he said, and sank onto the leather couch. He glanced up at Cain. “You know how great it is. You were up there this morning. I would have joined you if I’d had the time.”
Cain took a seat on the opposite couch, where Holly had been sitting. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Why didn’t you?”
“Business. About some land I own in town.” He motioned toward the door with a nod. “So, she was there?”
“Yeah. She was there, at the top, mad as hell I was on her land, and wanted me to hitchhike back here.”
Jack laughed at that. “You’re kidding me.”
“No, she was adamant about it.”
“And you…?”
“I headed down the run.”
Jack laughed again. “No surprise there.”
“Yeah, well, I face-planted in a soft spot.”
Jack guffawed, and Cain found himself joining in the laughter as Jack said, “I wish I’d seen that.”
