Page 20 of Cold and Bitter Snow

She looked over at Conor as he leaned down to loosen his boot, admiring his butt. Of course she was physically attracted to him—who wouldn’t be attracted to a man who looked like he did.

What she hadn’t expected was to realize she also liked him as a person. She’d soaked up everything he told her about himself, about growing up in Colorado, his favorite foods, his favorite sports. Yet there was one episode of his life he wasn’t talking about—she still knew nothing about his life in the Army or why he’d left. Something had happened to him, and she had the feeling it had a lot to do with the shadows she sometimes saw in his expression.

They rode the gondola back to town in companionable silence. She changed into her trainers again, enjoying the feeling of being able to wriggle her toes after being inside those hard boots for so long. He insisted on picking up her skis, easily balancing both sets over his right shoulder and handed her his poles to carry instead.

“I don’t want this day to end,” she admitted as they reached her hotel.

Again that shadow flew over his face. He opened his mouth as if to say something. She waited, instinctively knowing that what he was going to share was something she needed to hear. Then he closed his mouth. Before she could ask him about it she heard a ringing in the distance. She looked back to see the hotel receptionist running towards her, waving a phone in her direction.

“Miss Blake, Miss Blake,” he said in a heavily accented voice. “Monsieur Lagarde left this for you. It’s been ringing all afternoon.”

She picked up the phone gingerly. “Merci.”

“I guess I should call him back,” she said.

Conor nodded tightly. “I’ll leave you to it.”

He was still physically there but seemed to have taken a step back emotionally already. She didn’t want him to leave.

“I … we could meet for dinner? My treat, this time,” she ended, feeling lame.

Did you really just offer him a free meal?

The word no played on his lips but he surprised her once again.

“I’d like that.” He looked down at his watch. “I’m not working tonight. I’ll pick you up at eight?”

Feeling a spring in her step, Siena headed to her room. She took off her ski suit and sat on the bed still dressed in her long thermal underwear.

She called Laurent to thank him for the phone then spent half an hour on the phone with Markus Montgomery, trying to convince him the document requests she’d put through a couple days earlier were reasonable.

“You are creating hours of work for my assistant, Miss Blake.”

“I’ll make sure to note that down in my report, Monsieur Montgomery, as with the right processes in place it shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

She pulled the phone from her ear as Montgomery huffed and puffed. He was so predictable, she was almost sorry, but she wasn’t going to stand down.

She went back to her notes and spent some time going through them. It was her job to provide recommendations on new ways of doing everything, from keeping track of guests, staff, equipment… but her key focus was always security. She wanted to help make Le Miroir the safest ski resort in the world.

She created a virtual post-it to remind herself of the role drones could play in slope security, when used properly.

The next time she looked up from her notes it was getting dark. She looked at the bottom left part of the screen and realized it was already quarter to eight.

Shit.

She showered hastily and put on her favorite blue jeans, forgoing the thermal underwear this time. She pulled on a soft pale blue turtleneck that emphasized the curve of her breasts and her waist. She didn’t have time to do anything with her hair so she just pulled it back from her face in a simple bun. Two minutes left. Just enough time to apply her favorite copper eyeshadow, mascara, and lip gloss. Pulling on a pair of gray UGG boots she stopped to look at herself in the mirror.

Not bad.

Her heart beat hard against her chest—she hadn’t been this excited to meet up with someone in years and yet the feeling was strangely familiar.

She bounded down the stairs, slowing down as she reached the lobby. Conor was already waiting for her outside. His short hair was once again damp from the shower. He’d changed into a black sweater and windbreaker. She compared that to her own puffy winter coat. She felt cold just looking at him but had to admit she enjoyed the way the sweater highlighted his strong, hard body.

“Hi,” she breathed out, still out of breath.

“You look beautiful,” he said in a quiet voice.

“Where are we going?” she asked.