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nails as they’d reached yet another pinnacle.
Yes. He wanted that. Wanted more of those scratches. More of those kisses.
It was okay. The dream had been nothing more than the stupid workings of his mind and that avalanche.
He undid the towel and let it drop to the floor, his body already anticipating what he wanted to do to her next.
Sweetheart, I hope you’re ready.
He turned out the bathroom light so it wouldn’t disturb her, then carefully opened the door. He was halfway across the room when he realized the bed seemed a little flatter than it had been. He frowned, moving closer. It looked different because it was different.
Mira was no longer there under the covers. His eyes skated around the room, going through the door to the living area and seeing just a silent hotel room.
No sound. No flash of movement.
He glanced at the floor next to the bed. No clothes. Although his were now folded and placed neatly on the seat of a chair on the other side of the room.
She was gone.
She’d done exactly what he would have done had he woken up in her room that morning. She’d crept out of bed and thrown on her clothes while he’d been in the bathroom. And then she’d turned tail and raced as fast as she could out of the door and out of his life.
* * *
Sleep with him, she’d said. It’ll do you both good, she’d said.
Mira slammed her hairbrush down on the small vanity in her room and berated herself for running away like a coward. It would have been better to just lie there and pretend to be asleep, and then when Jack came back into the room give a big stretch as if she’d just woken up. She could have nonchalantly said she had to get dressed for work and say, “Thanks for everything.”
Yeah, like propping her up on the bar and making her see stars.
In reality, she hadn’t slept a wink once they’d made love a second time—in his bed this time. She’d lain awake for hours, totally blown away by what had happened between them. Rather than kick the attraction in the teeth and send it skidding down the road, it was now crouched in the left-hand corner of her mirror, grinning at her with that all-knowing smile. No matter how many times she blinked, it was still there.
Maybe because the smile belonged to the stuffed Cheshire cat Ellory had sent her for her birthday last year.
“Yeah. Keep grinning and it’s under the bed for you.”
When the smile remained where it was, she found the corners of her own mouth lifting. “Oh, Ellory. What have I done?”
But, of course, her friend wasn’t there to tell her what she should do the morning after.
She wanted to see him again. Something she hadn’t expected.
Gulping, she scrubbed her hand over her stomach. She was going to go and get all attached to him, she just knew it.
“Idiot.”
She laid her head down on the dressing table and thought through all the options.
Option one: she could remain in her room for the next two weeks...or however long he was scheduled to be here.
Option two: she could wear a Gaga-ish mask and pretend she was musical royalty.
Option three: she could forget about this whole bet-slash-resolution thing.
But she knew Ellory would worry about her if she really did go and jump into a new relationship. Hell, she would be worried about herself, if it came to that. She had three failed relationships under her belt. Serious relationships. To jump into a new one almost on the heels of breaking her engagement to Robert...
Stupid.
Which brought her back to thinking up more options.
She yawned. Option four: she could fall asleep and hope she didn’t wake up for a couple of weeks.
Or she could just be a grown-up and go up to him and say, “Hey. Thanks for last night. I had a lot of fun. See ya around.”
Quick. To the Point. Truthful.
She liked it.
She dragged herself up off the chair and headed to the bed, crinkling her nose at Chessie, who was still grinning madly at her. She knocked him sideways.
There. Just grin into the pillow for a while.
She decided to jump in the shower and try to pull herself together. As soon as she stepped under the spray she knew it was the right thing to do. The warm water helped soothe her nerves. Maybe she really would take a nap. Everything looked worse when you were tired. Scrubbing herself down with a soapy loofah, she tried to put what had happened last night out of her mind.
If she could just get his scent off her body and out of her head...
From a distance she heard her cell ring.
Please, don’t be Jack. Not right now.
Despite her thoughts, by the second ring she’d sluiced off the rest of the soap and stepped out of the shower, feet slipping for a second on the bare tile floor in her hurry to get to the phone.
Damn, damn, damn.
She picked up the thing and glanced at the readout, adding a fourth “damn” for good measure. Robert. Not Jack.
“Hello?”
“Mira, are you free?”
Oh, Lord. Now what? If he thought they were getting back together he was mistaken. “Why?”
“Number Five is up here with me, and he might need some help.”
“Jack? What happened?” Her heart started crashing around in her chest, making her vision swim for a second or two. Here she was agonizing over what they’d done last night, and he was already up on the slopes first thing this morning.
“He’s fine. But someone fell off the ski lift and...uh...Dr. Perry says she has multiple broken bones. Can you get up here? EMS has already been called, but it’ll be a little while, there’s evidently a lot of ice after the freeze we had yesterday, and they’re having to deal with some accidents on the roads. Your guy wants to stabilize the guest and then get her someplace warmer.”
“On my way. Which slope?” She probably already knew. Jack wouldn’t risk his life on one of the bigger ones.
“Grade two.” There was a pause. “Mira, we think she was a jumper. There were a couple of witnesses who saw her go over.”
Her heart stuttered.
A jumper. Oh, God. Every couple of years someone decided life was too painful to bear and threw themselves off the lifts and onto the slopes in a suicide attempt. Normally it was onto one of the more advanced slopes, though, as the lifts servicing those areas went higher.
Her throat was so tight she wasn’t sure she’d be able to respond. But when she opened her mouth, somehow the words were there. “Give me a few minutes. I’ll keep my cell with me, so call if there’s any change.”
Throwing the phone onto the bed, she rushed around yanking her clothes on and then her snow pants and parka. Her coat still had a ripped spot on the sleeve—just like the shredded portion of her heart.
Please, let her be okay.
She searched around for her gloves for a minute or two, and then frowned at the unfamiliar pair she found in her pocket.
Jack’s gloves. He’d given them to her after the avalanche yesterday.
Her throat tightened further.
Had that just been yesterday? It seemed like it had happened weeks ago.
In