Valenstared at me with surprise in his eyes while he kept my hand in his for far longer than usual.Hethen rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb before he let go. “Cassandra,” he repeated.
Myname never sounded as wonderful as it did coming from his rich voice.
Ihad to stop myself from gaping soIsputtered, “You’reallowed to drink on your shifts?”Jeez.WhatwasI—the ski lodge narc?
Hegrunted. “Itwould take a lot of alcohol to affect me.”
Hishigh tolerance confirmed my inkling that he was a shifter.Ibent closer.Damn, he smelled good. “Wolf?”Iwhispered.
Hestudied me with an intense look before nodding.Thenhe leaned close and said, “Witch?” in a low rumble that vibrated against my ear.Hiswarm breath fanned my skin in an oddly titillating way.
Whenhe pulled away,Ialmost moved with him.Iturned to him. “Yes.”
Weexchanged a look, as if confirming we’d keep each other’s secret. “Whatbrings you to theWhiteMountains,Cassandra?”
Iarched a brow. “Whatmakes you thinkI’mnot a local?”Assoon asIasked him in that tone,Isensed it might sound flirtatious.Wasit?Ididn’t know.Iwas so out of practice.
Valengazed at me with amusement. “I’dknow if you lived around here.”
“Oh, really?”Icountered. “Doyou know everyone in the region?”
“No, butI’drecognize someone as beautiful as you.”
Heatrose in my cheeks, andIturned to focus on my drink.Imight be rusty with men, but it didn’t take too many brain cells to notice that there was something going on here.Thebigger question was—didIwant it?
Aftertaking a sip of my delicious hot beverage,Iput it down and then said, “Nowthat’s a line ifIever heard one.”
“Nota line.”Heshook his head. “Afact.”
BeforeIcould think of a suitable reply, he asked, “Areyou here with anyone?”
“No.I’mvisiting for the weekend while my daughter is visiting my parents.They’renot far over the border from here inMaine.”
“Areyou fromMaine?”
“No,Salem.”
“NewHampshire?”
“Massachusetts,”Iclarified.
“Ah, theWitchCity.”
“Ifthe pointy shoe fits,”Ijoked. “Nowmy turn to ask about you.Whereare you from?”
“Here.Well, not originally.Igrew up in a pack inMaine.”
“Whatbrought you here?”
Hemotioned to the mountain before us, visible in the picture window. “Thescenery.Youcan’t beat it.”Witha sly grin, he added. “Andthe skiing isn’t bad.”
“Ifyou manage to stay in your skis,”Iadded.
Hechuckled. “Areyou going back out after a break?”
Ishook my head. “IthinkI’vehad enough of a beating today.Mountain1,Cassandra0.”
“You’redone?”Hiseyes widened. “Youcame all this way.Youcan’t let a little tumble keep you from skiing.”
