“This resort has made a name for itself because of our trails. We’ve just redone them, and added new ones. We’re acquiring more land from the land trust. We’re constructing new lift operations. And because of all that, I can lure athletes from all over the world.”

His sureness staggered her. Not because it was false, but because she was beginning to realize he could back up everything he said. For all purposes, it was his mountain, his trails, his reputation that made the place.

She wanted a fraction of that belief in her own abilities.

“Now I can do even more,” he told her. “Because of the new trails we opened, we can offer certain events, televised events, that will bring recognition. And more revenue.”

It was exciting, thrilling, and she felt her sense of adventure soar. She imagined herself involved, handling television crews and famous celebrities. “What can I do?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“I’m general manager, remember?”

“You’re a walking catastrophe, is what you are.”

“I won’t get hurt.”

“I can bank on that since you’ll be right here in the office-”

“While you have all the fun? No way.”

He looked her over, starting at the hiking boots she was so proud of because they no longer gave her blisters, working his way upward past her walking shorts, past her blouse, though he lingered there long enough to have her nipples pressing against the material in response.

It was crazy, that just a look from him could do that to her.

A lazy, knowing smile curved his lips. “Are you looking for fun, Ally?”

His voice was soft, seductive, and his eyes half-closed and sleepy. Sex appeal oozed from his every pore and her body reacted. “On the mountain,” she said through her clenched jaw. “I’m looking for fun on the mountain.”

“You can’t handle the mountain.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake! You act like you’ve never done anything reckless in your life! I’ve seen pictures of you skiing, you know.”

His eyes glittered at that, and pushing away from her desk, he moved toward her, leaving her wavering between holding her ground and running. “You’ve never seen me in action,” he said softly.

No, she hadn’t, but she could imagine just how good his tall, rangy and oh-so-fit frame would look on the slopes, his long legs tearing up the snow as he worked his way effortlessly over the roughest terrain. “This isn’t about you,” she managed.

He stopped close enough to touch, but he didn’t. She looked up into his eyes. A mistake. They were dark, deep and full of heat. Oh man, he was something all charged up.

“No go.”

“No go?” she repeated, needing to press, needing to stir her anger so that she could keep her mind on track, instead of wanting to investigate such things as what his mouth might feel like on hers. “Why are you always so quick to dismiss me?”

He placed a finger against her lips. “This isn’t about the mountain.”

“It’s not?”

“It’s about you. And me. Don’t lie,” he said when she opened her mouth to do just that.

His gaze was intense. Sexual. And her breathing changed.

So did his. “No more games,” he whispered.

Undoubtedly, she could have ducked beneath his arm and lengthened the space between them. He wasn’t holding her, he wasn’t even touching her, though she could “feel” every single hot, powerful inch of him.

The silence stretched out. Neither of them moved, neither spoke, though Ally’s insides were screaming. He was so close, so warm, so big. The tension tightened within her, and it wasn’t an unpleasant tension, but something different, something undeniable.

“I’ve warned you about looking at me like that,” he said in a low voice.

“I know.” But she kept doing it.

“I won’t be your latest adventure, Ally.”

“Why not?”

He let out a rough laugh. “We’re too different.”

“That I noticed.” He wasn’t attracted to her. It was a sobering fact. She’d always wanted to feel the sexuality most women seemed to feel, and make a man feel it in return, but she hadn’t, not with Thomas, not with anyone. “I understand.” It wasn’t as if she’d had expectations-okay, maybe she had. But who wouldn’t? He was so beautiful, so uninhibited, so damn hot. “I don’t do it for you.”

“You don’t what?”

She looked up into his eyes. “You know, make you horny.”

“No?” Snagging her hips in his hands, he rocked them to his, hard, so that she couldn’t help but feel the long, heated bulge behind his zipper.

“Oh,” she whispered.

Their bodies brushed together again and every bit as affected by their nearness as she, he drew in a harsh breath.

Encouraged, she lifted a hand to stroke his jaw, because she’d been dying to do that all day.

Only he caught her fingers in his and stopped her. “Don’t.”

The word seemed torn from him. “Kiss me,” she whispered.

He stared at her. “This is a really bad idea, but for the life of me, I can’t remember why.”

“Good.”

“Remind me.”

“No way.” Then because he was holding her hand, and her other was wrapped around his neck, she tugged until she could slide her cheek along his. “Kiss me, Chance, come on, just one kiss.”

Another rough laugh rumbled in his chest, and he slid his fingers into her hair, lifting her face, looking into her gaze for a long moment before lowering his mouth to just the corner of hers. He dabbled there, then nibbled his way to the other corner, making a deep sound of pleasure at the taste of her. “Tell me no.”

“Yes.”

“Ally.”

Her insides melted at the sound of her name on his lips, then dissolved completely when he tilted her head to match up their mouths.

It should have been just one simple little kiss. Only there was nothing simple or little about it. Her senses revved, her legs weakened. Her heart soared, and she murmured his name, wanting more, so much more.

He complied, drawing one hand down her spine to her bottom, squeezing, pressing her even closer. His other cupped the bare skin of her neck, his thumb stroking her jaw as his mouth teased and coaxed hers.

When he pulled back, she gripped his shirt in her fists and held on because the connection had become far more important than breathing.

“You said one kiss,” he reminded her, his eyes dark, his voice raspy and rough.

“I lied.”

A low moan escaped him, then he kissed her again, long and slow, wet and deep, taking his sweet time. This time when the kiss ended, they were both panting, and he rested his forehead against her brow. “You’re not what I planned on.”

“What did you plan on?”

“Not feeling as though you’ve blown into my life like a fist to the gut, that’s for damn sure.” His mouth was still wet from hers, and he looked hot and bothered.

That made two of them.

Only his brow was furrowed with intensity, his eyes filled with mysteries and secrets he had no intentions of sharing with her. And looking deep into his gaze, she knew the truth. She was going to be leaving here all too soon, and she’d done what she’d sworn not to do.

She’d gotten her poor heart involved.


TWO DAYS LATER Chance found himself filling in on mountain bike patrol. It was hard, hot work, and though he’d never had a problem with that, by the end of the afternoon, after warning oblivious first-timers of the danger of leaving the trail, after chasing not so oblivious bikers who should have known better against the same thing, he longed to rip down the steep terrain, tearing up the dirt, wind flying in his face.

Longed to break all his own rules.

How he’d ended up with so many rules to begin with was beyond him. When he’d left home at age seventeen, his parents had welcomed his restlessness with pride, sending him off with smiles as he’d backpacked across the globe, getting into one scrape after another and loving every moment of it.

Until Tina.

After her death, he’d somehow landed in Wyoming, with twenty bucks and a tired spirit. The remoteness, the sheer vastness, the very wildness of the land called to him as nowhere else ever had.

Luckily for him, Lucy had taken one look, and had hired him on the spot. He’d been given a tremendous amount of freedom, coupled with all the thrill and adventure he could make for himself.

And he’d made plenty. He needed some now.

The minute the mountain closed to paying customers, the second he ripped off the vest that qualified him as an authority figure, he put his bike over his shoulder onto his back and climbed the mountain so he could go down his way-mind-blowingly fast. No responsibility. No Brian dogging him. No Ally blinking her big eyes at him.

Nothing but his own company.

Halfway up, the radio on his hip crackled. Damn, he should have turned it off.

“Hey, boss,” came Jo’s voice. “Lucy on line two. She wants to tell you not to break a leg.”

Chance smiled and kept going, his muscles straining, his breath coming in even pants, breaking a sweat for the first time all day.

“She also wants to know if you’ve been kissing Ally.”

He stopped short, nearly tripped over his own two feet.

“Don’t worry,” Jo said, laughing at his silence over the airwaves. “I told her City Girl wasn’t exactly your type.”

Which was absolutely true. He didn’t want her, certainly didn’t need her, no matter what she seemed to think. Just the idea she considered him needy at all really got to him.

She was the needy one, dammit.

He hiked on, refusing to waste precious biking time thinking about it, or her. Or the kiss he could still feel on his mouth even now.

But one hundred yards later, he stopped at the unmistakable signs that he was being followed. Soon enough, Brian appeared, wearing a defiant look and carrying a bike that had seen better days.