She almost smiled. “You’ve seen what he’s like. He says what he thinks and does what he wants. It worked great as long as he had superiors who were willing to give him free rein. But then a new regime came in, and they had a different style. More controlling. Dad isn’t easy to control.”
“And maybe his daughter takes after him.”
“I try to stick to regulations more than Dad ever did, but it’s hard when people won’t listen to your ideas. There are people in the Bureau who would rather women stuck to making coffee and filling out reports. You would think we’d be long past that now, but all it takes is one Neanderthal at the top, and it’s easier for others to fall in line.”
“I’m sorry you have to deal with that. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re wrong about more going on with this protest group than just a bunch of fireworks.”
“Thanks.” She covered his hand with her own. “You’re easy to talk to.”
He turned her hand over so that they were palm to palm. The awareness of him that had lingered since those moments on the dance floor returned. “I don’t think we’re going to find out anything more here tonight,” she said. Not about the protests or the stolen fireworks. Though it felt as if she was juggling something even more explosive.
“Do you want to go home?” he asked.
“Yes.”
She reached for her coat, but he surprised her by coming around and holding it for her. He rested her hands on his shoulder, the weight of him making her feel heavy and languid. She wanted to turn into him, to feel his arms around her, his lips on hers.
Instead, she moved away, toward the door. But when they were in his truck, she said. “Don’t take me back to the condo. Let’s go back to your place.”
He slid his hands along the steering wheel. His face was turned to her, but she couldn’t read his expression in the darkness. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he said.
“Okay.” She choked out the word. She would have thought she was too old to be this crushed by embarrassment. Now she didn’t know where to look.
“It’s not that I’m not attracted to you, it’s just—”
“It’s okay. Forget I said anything.” What was she doing? She was supposed to be a professional. “Just take me to the condo.”
She could feel his gaze still on her, though she refused to turn toward him. After a long moment, he started the truck and drove.
As soon as they were in the parking lot, she had the door of the truck open. “Thanks for your help,” she said. She didn’t run away, but she didn’t dawdle, the soles of her boots slapping on the pavement. She had her key out and in the door lock while thetruck was still idling behind her. She was inside the condo, safe in the darkness, before he could say a word.
Chapter Ten
Connor looked for Stacy all Tuesday morning at the resort. The last thing he had wanted last night was to upset her. If he could only make her understand…
Understand what? He didn’t understand himself. This was why he was so bad at relationships. Instead of trying to placate a woman who already thought the worst of him, he would be much better off focusing on work and his dog. He never had to second-guess his words or his feelings with those two parts of his life.
What had started as heavy fog turned into real snow by the time the lifts started running at nine. Big, fat flakes transformed the resort into a movie scene, covering the corduroy laid down by the overnight groomers with several inches of fresh snow before noon. Fair-weather skiers deserted the slopes in favor of shopping or staying warm by the fire, but the die-hards reveled in the great conditions, whooping with delight as they plowed through the powder.
Ski patrol answered call after call that morning, from skiers injured maneuvering in heavy powder to a young woman overcome with vertigo near the top of the mountain. By noon the patrollers were cold and ravenous, grateful to take a break in a side room of the base area grill.
They pulled sandwiches from packs and pockets. Connor bit into his ham and cheese, then took a swig of water. Across from him, Chase unwrapped his lunch. A strong, vaguely familiar, meaty odor filled the air.
“What are you eating?” Anders asked. “A roadkill sandwich?”
“It’s roast beef,” Chase said. He eyed the sandwich skeptically. “I didn’t think it had been in the refrigerator that long.” He sniffed. “It doesn’t smell bad. Just a little strong.”
“Smells okay to me.” Brian crunched a potato chip. “It’s familiar somehow.”
Chase took a bite. The others watched as he chewed, his expression puzzled, then horrified. He dropped the sandwich and stood, wiping at his mouth. “Cerise!” he shouted.
All heads turned. “Cerise isn’t here,” someone called.
Chase gulped water. “When I find that woman…”
“Why are you blaming Cerise?” Lily asked.
“She told me she was going to get back at me for filling her chair in the lift shack with snow. This is how she did it. She made me a dog-food sandwich.” He removed the top slice of bread from his sandwich, and the others leaned in for a look.
