"Oh, yeah." She buckled herself into her binding. "Prepare to lose."

He laughed, a low, sexy sound she could grow extremely attached to. "We'll see about that-"

She didn't wait for him to finish his sentence before she pushed off. Cheating? Only slightly. Besides, she'd seen him ski now, and truthfully, she wasn't all that positive she actually could beat him, unless she caught him by surprise in some way.

As the wind whistled past her, the thrill of the run settled in and her heart started pumping in a staccato beat. He caught up, and for a while they were neck and neck in the falling snow, the only sound being the swoosh, swoosh of their equipment pushing at the powder snow.

Evenly matched, she thought with a rush. They were shockingly evenly matched.

Would they be so evenly matched in bed?

Just as the errant thought entered her head, a lone skier suddenly vaulted into action ahead of them, not looking, moving too quickly and recklessly on the trail as it narrowed to a width that allowed for only one person safely at a time. Lily edged ahead of Logan and slowed them both down as she realized the other skier was completely, totally, out of control going into the turn. Even as she thought it, he skidded and began to slide toward the sharp drop-off. "Hey!" she called. "Slow down!"

The skier jerked at her voice and, clearly realizing he wasn't going to make the turn, went down in a tumble on his skis rather than fall over the cliff.

Lily began to board around him, planning on getting below him to stop and check that he was okay. But he struggled to get up, all scrambled arms and legs, managing to hook her with his pole as she went into her stop, tripping her into a dive.

She felt herself heading, airborne, directly toward the edge and the falling that waited past it, but then she was landing hard, in a tangle of limbs that weren't her own.

Logan. He sat up, quickly reaching for her. "You okay?"

No, she was not. She'd fallen. Fallen. She never fell, damn it. She spit out a mouthful of snow and looked around, realizing he'd taken her down purposely, catching her inches from the cliff. Her stomach wobbled at the damage the rocks might have done to her body if he hadn't been so quick-thinking on his skis. Before she could stand, he wrapped his fingers around her arm and held her still. "That was a helluva dive. Make sure you're okay first."

The only thing hurting was her pride, and she pulled free. "I'm fine." She looked over her shoulder in time to catch the out-of-control skier bolt down the mountain, without so much as a backward look.

"Nice," Logan said drily.

"Most are." She stood and looked down at her left boot, no longer buckled onto her board. Great. "I broke the binding." Snapped it right off, actually, which was nothing her screwdriver could fix. The prospect of having to walk down the damn mountain only added insult to injury.

"Hang on." Logan shrugged out of his backpack and opened it, burrowing through the contents.

"A roll of duct tape?" she asked incredulously when he held it up.

"Watch." Then he proceeded to pull a total MacGyver, using the tape to rig the board's binding to hold her boot. "No more hotshot stuff," he warned, stepping back so that she could buckle herself in. "Don't want to push it."

She stood there brushing herself off, torn between annoyance and a telling pain in her left knee. It was an old injury, and surgery, twice, had repaired it, but damn if it didn't suddenly ache like a son of a bitch.

"Let's take a minute," he said, watching her closely.

Hating the weakness, she forced a smile. "Why, are you tired?"

"Lily-"

The walkie-talkie at her hip went off, and anything the two of them might have said or done was put on hold as Sara's voice filled the air. She was the middle sister, two years younger than Gwyneth. Instead of cold, cynical and bossy, she was mothering, nosy and bossy. "Lily Rose, I'm at your desk, and you're not here."

"Amazing powers of deduction," Lily muttered.

"Lily Rose? Can you hear me?"

She might be a badass to the rest of the world, but to Sara and Gwyneth, she was the eternal baby sister. "What's up?"

"You need a maid. My God, your desk is a disaster."

"Thanks. I'll be down in a few," she said into the walkie-talkie.

Less than five seconds later, her cell phone rang. She didn't have to look to see it was Sara. "What now?" she said when she'd hit speakerphone rather than take off her helmet so that she could hear.

"I just wanted to tell you something." Sara spoke with slow care, a sure sign she was miffed. "Two things. Aunt Debbie showed up earlier. She skied a while and now wants a suite."

"Well, you're guest services. Check with your reservations desk, but I'm sure both our suites are taken this week."

"They are. She's making a stink, saying she told you to clear one for her."

Aunt Debbie was their mother's younger sister, their grandma's "surprise," a late-in-life baby, and was only a few years older than Gwyneth. A born diva, she lived in New York, but always came out to ski once a year or so, wearing the finest designer gear, bearing embarrassingly expensive gifts and smothering hugs. She'd spend the time hanging around the lodge looking rich and beautiful, always choosing some particular spectacular ski stud to hook up with for the week.

Certainly if Aunt Debbie had told Lily she'd planned on coming to ski this week, Lily would have remembered to take an Advil in advance. "Well, she didn't. Just give her the best room you can come up with."

"I will, but, sweetie, you really need to remember these things or ask for help if you need it."

Lily banged the phone on her forehead. Talking to her sisters was like talking to two particularly impenetrable brick walls.

"Oh, and Gwyneth says an old friend is coming in tonight for a week's stay with his brand-new Jeep." There was laughter in Sara's voice now. "And that you're not to steal it, as is your habit with Jeeps."

Instead of banging her head again, Lily tipped her head back and looked at the sky, into the snow falling out of it like angel drops. It'd been ten years since she'd been arrested for stealing a Jeep. "Didn't you get the bulletin? I don't steal new Jeeps. Only old ones."

Sara chortled. "Sorry. I couldn't resist."

Lily disconnected. "Aren't you funny."

"Older sister?"

Lily tentatively flexed and bounced on her knee, testing. Not good. "Yeah. She hasn't grasped the fact that I'm no longer a wild child and that stealing Dad's precious Jeep Laredo to go smoke weed on Mole Hill just doesn't hold the same appeal."

Logan laughed and once again pulled off his backpack, unzipping it. "Ah, the fond memories of our stupid youths."

Impressed that he didn't ask her a million questions about her past, she watched him kneel in the snow and shift through his pack. "Granted," she admitted. "I had more stupid moments than most."

"Because you got caught?" He pulled out an elastic bandage.

"It wasn't difficult that time. I forgot to set the emergency brake, and when I got out to sit on the cliffs to smoke and watch the moon, the truck rolled down the mountain."

"Ouch."

"Yeah." She sighed. "And now I'm that stupid kid forever, no matter how many years I put between me and my…indiscretions."

"I take it you're the baby of the family?"

"Unfortunately." She eyed him as he came close once again, tossing the bandage up and down in his hand. "And you?"

"The oldest."

"Ah." She smiled. "So are you an impossible, cold, hard know-it-all?"

"Undoubtedly."

Slowly she shook her head. "You might be impossible, and the know-it-all part remains to be seen, but I don't buy the cold."

He ignored that and nodded to her leg. "What's with the knee?"

"See? Cold wouldn't have even noticed." She came clean when he didn't give up an ounce of the intensity. "Ancient injury."

Crouching before her in the snow, he pulled her Gore-Tex pants up to her thigh while she silently thanked herself for shaving that morning. Then he bent his dark head. His breath danced over her skin. With his index finger, he traced the six-inch scar that rounded her kneecap in a half circle. His finger was warm and callused.

"It's old," she said.

"Not that old. Want the wrap?"

What she wanted wrapped was his body around hers, but she wasn't too stubborn to admit the bandage would give her the support she needed to get down the hill. "Please."

Tipping his face up, he smiled at her in a way that suggested he knew accepting help from anyone went against the grain. Still holding her gaze, he tugged his gloves off with his teeth, an oddly erotic thing all in itself. Then he peeled her ski sock down.

She hissed.

He went still. "Hurt?"

"Your hands are cold."

He flashed a grin. "Suck it up." With efficiency, he wrapped her knee, then pulled her sock back up and her pant leg down over her boot. "You should soak it when we get back. Do employees get to use the hot rub?"

"Actually…" She stared down at him, into those amazing eyes. It was unusual, and it made no sense, but she wanted him to know the truth. She wanted him to know her. "I'm not quite an employee."

He straightened, standing a good head taller than her. "No?"

"No. I, um…" She smiled wryly. "I own the resort. Inherited it, actually."

He didn't even blink. "So I'm taking it you get access to the hot tub."

She stared at him, then laughed. Still no ridiculously invasive questions, not a single joke, none of the usual stuff that always so completely and totally irritated her when she revealed that she, a twenty-five-year-old punk, owned a ski resort.