The Best Of The Year - Medical Romance. Carol Marinelli
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No, you don’t, Perry. Don’t you dare look.
Too late. His eyes had already skated over her hips and mentally guessed what lay beneath all those layers of clothing. And it was good.
Wow. If she knew what you were thinking, she’d dump your gear in the snow and march her oh-so-cold tushie right back down the hill.
Damn. Time to renew his gentleman card. Paula would have given him a single raised eyebrow if she could hear him now.
But she couldn’t. Thanks to him. And the coach. And the team.
No. That was no one’s fault but his.
Suddenly the last thing he wanted was to be alone. Even if it meant spending a half-hour with a woman who’d probably made the rounds more than he had during his entire internship. “Hot chocolate sounds good. Thanks.”
She gave him a quick grin and handed him his equipment. “Don’t hurry, unless you enjoy sliding down the hill. I’ll meet you at the bottom.”
With that, she turned around and pushed off, her skis flashing as she leaned forward and took the slope like an expert.
Sighing, Jack juggled his poles and his skis and took his first shaky step.
* * *
Did forcing someone to drink hot chocolate count as date number five? Mira scrunched her nose as she waited for her next victim to finish trudging his way down the hill. She wouldn’t have pushed so hard if it hadn’t been for that Florence Nightingale crack Robert had made as he’d sailed past her.
Yes, it was spiteful to head for the bar with another man when she knew her ex was there on his break, but she wanted to make it as plain as the icicles hanging from the man’s heart that she was done. No amount of sweet-talking would get her to take him back. Seducing your female students was not part of a ski instructor’s job description, no matter what most people thought.
Ellory was right. She needed to move on. Not getting emotionally attached was something that came hard for her, but if she kept choosing men who were not her type, it should be a breeze.
Jack Perry was definitely on the “not” side of the equation. Her newly written “not” side, anyway.
With his chiseled, clean-shaven jaw and refusal to let her help him up, he was evidently a man’s man, something she was now avoiding like the plague as far as relationships went. She’d been there, done that—three times, in fact—and had the heartbreak to prove it. The next guy she got serious with was going to be a poet. Or an artist. Someone who was in touch with his feminine side.
There was nothing feminine about the man she’d met on the slopes. She’d bet he was an athlete—from the easy way his wiry muscles had pushed him up off the ground. Yeah, he might have crashed and burned on that slope, but that was from lack of experience, not lack of strength. Those glutes had some power behind them.
Something she was better off not thinking about.
Hot chocolate. Nothing else. She might have joked with Ellory about bedding a man or two during the next year, but she wasn’t planning on actually doing that. Too dangerous. For her, anyway. The words sex and casual? An oxymoron. It always became personal.
So far she’d racked up three losers. Three men who couldn’t resist the thrill of the chase, even when that chase involved someone other than their fiancée.
No more bad boys for her.
Surely after a year of empty dates she’d be able to tell the difference between a player and a guy who was capable of monogamy. Until then, she had to stick to the plan.
But, man, oh, man, as Jack sidled the last twenty feet, making short work of each step in those heavy boots, he was making her little heart go pitter-patter.
Reaching down to undo her skis when she realized she’d been watching him instead of attending to her own business, she stepped out of them and hefted them upright. “Ready?” she asked, when he reached her.
“Yes.” His voice was a little tighter than it had been up the hill, although she didn’t see how that could be, since he hadn’t been jumping for joy at the thought of spending some time with her. She’d had the opposite problem with man number three. He hadn’t exactly been happy when she’d closed the door to her room with him on the wrong side of it.
Well, from Jack’s guarded expression, getting rid of him should be a snap.
They turned in their skis and poles at the equipment center next to the ski lodge and then Mira led the way into the foyer of the main building. The familiar honeyed tones of wood-covered floors and walls welcomed her like a snug, warm cocoon, especially when compared to the vast snow-covered surfaces outside its doors. The crackle of the fire in the huge stone fireplace in the middle of the room only added to that sense of welcome.
Moving over to the long hallway lined with pegs and cubbies, she shimmied out of her jacket and hung it up along with her hat. As she ran her fingers through her hair to fluff it up a bit, she was far too aware of the man next to her shuffling out of his own coat and snow pants. She smiled at the snug black jeans he had on beneath his clothes. And, man, she was so right about those glutes.
Damn!
He swung back around, catching her in the act. One brow lifted, and his lips tightened just a touch. So he didn’t like her looking. Well, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t checked her out on the slope. She’d seen those dark eyes skim over her in quick appraisal. Right after her ex had zoomed past, like the jerk he was.
Forget about Robert. He was not on her current shopping list. Jack was.
She refreshed her memory about the goals of this particular encounter: have a quick cup of cocoa and then she was free to move on.
To man number six.
JACK’S SKI INSTRUCTOR was currently staring at his rescuer. And not a subtle kind of stare, either. This was a full-on, you-will-look-at-me kind of unwavering attention.
And yet as Miranda set their drinks down, she was chatting away as if she had no idea.
He gave himself a mental palm to the head. Of course. She had to be a ski instructor as well. No wonder she’d helped him up and made sure he got down the hill. It also explained why the other guy had told her to clear him off the slope.
What it didn’t explain was why the man was now staring at them.
Best to settle this right here and now, in case this was a pity drink. Surely he didn’t look that badly off. He’d have to work on his cheerful see-ya-later grin. “You don’t have to sit with me. I’m fine, really.”
She frowned. “Never thought you weren’t. I’m sitting here because I’m cold and tired and wanted some hot chocolate.”
“I didn’t see you up at the top when I was having my lesson.”
“That’s because I wasn’t there. I was skiing one of the harder slopes. I decided to finish up on the bunny. As a cool down.”
Cool down. No wonder she was in such great shape. And she was. He might deny it until he was blue in the face, but he’d glanced at her a time or two. Enough to know that her slender legs were strong. So were her arms. If he’d met her anywhere else, he might think she was a distance runner. But she wasn’t. She was a skier.
“I bet you have to rescue lots of guys like me.” The second the words were out of his mouth he wished he could retract them. He hadn’t needed rescuing. Not on the slopes, and certainly not anywhere else, despite what his coach might think.
He could have handled things himself, given a little more time.
Yeah? Like he’d handled those dreams? Popping sleeping pills like they were candy was not the best prescription—as he’d soon discovered.