Page 1

C learview Ski Resort - March

Charlotte

“So how about that drink?”

The man I just met and who practically saved my life on the ski slope winks and motions toward the lobby of the ski resort. “I know a better place than that one.” He offers me a large hand expectantly.

With a furtive glance around the quiet lodge area, I cautiously accept it, feeling the warmth of his palm immediately spread through the length of my arm. Then I wonder if it’s wise to trust a man I just met.

However, he did just save me. That counts for something, right? Had it not been for his quick actions, the ski patrol would’ve been peeling my mangled limbs from that tree I nearly crashed into earlier.

One minute I’m on my feet and the next, I’m being tugged into his side, held steady and upright against his body. This man has some amazing strength and reaction time. With a palm to the curve of my lower back, he guides me past the posh lobby bar and outside the front doors of the lodge.

“Where are we going?” There’s a slight rise at the end of my question and I wonder if I should say yes.

“You’ll see. It’s just down the back.”

The snow crunches underneath our snow boots as we walk along a stone path toward the back of the lodge, where the smell of an outdoor fire rises through the crisp air. He leads me toward a small shack that looks like something out of a Hobbit movie, with a thatched roof covered in snow. I breathe out a slight sigh of relief that he didn’t drag me into the woods like my imagination suggested. As we enter, I get a glimpse of the low-lit room, with its all-alpine woods and dark corners and a giant stone hearth that has a warm fire burning in it.

It makes for a cozy and romantic hideaway, and I instantly feel the effects as he locates us two seats at a small table near the back of the bar.

He pulls out the chair for me and I take a seat, covering the back of it with my ski jacket. He raises a finger to grab the attention of the bartender, a beast of a man who could easily pass for a lumberjack. Jake, his name tag says, rounds the corner of the bar and he steps up to our table.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Hendy,” Jake says, giving a bro handshake to the man I’m with. “What can I get you two?”

“What would you like?” my potential bad decision asks as he turns toward me with a smile that could melt glaciers.

My thoughts are still wrapped around the idea that this man— Hendy, as I’ve now learned —is a known entity to the bartender, which eases my worries exponentially. At the very least, if I suddenly disappear, Jake could tell the authorities I was last seen with Hendy.

“A chardonnay,” I croak dryly, tacking on a small smile of my own. While a shot of some whiskey would do better in calming my nerves, hard liquor would also make my bad decisions increase tenfold.

I think back to what my best friend Poppy suggested earlier this afternoon during our phone call.

“ Have some fun. Maybe you could even meet a handsome cowboy or hot ski instructor on the slopes .”

My gaze refocuses on Hendy, as the heat of his eyes on me has me radiating from the inside out.

“Good choice. I’ll have a Clase Azul Reposado on the rocks,” he says. The bartender nods and lumbers off to make our drinks. It gives me a chance to ask a follow up question to what I’ve learned so far.

“Sounds like you’re a regular here… Hendy ? Is that your name?”

He chuckles, leaning casually back in his seat with the tilt of his head. “Yep. That’s what they call me.”

“I’m Lottie,” I state matter-of-factly, choosing to use my childhood nickname for some reason. It feels less restrictive than my full name. And since I’m stepping way out of my normal comfort zone tonight, why not try it on for size?

Hendy hand reaches across the table looking for mine. I place my hand in his and he leans over and kisses my knuckles. A shiver runs up my arm and down my spine.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, lovely Lottie.”

“Such a gentleman,” I tease with a playful laugh, trying to remember any of the rules of flirting. It’s been so long.

His eyebrows shoot up toward the fringe of his dark, messy hair. “Hmm…I can be when I want to.”

Jake returns with the drinks and sets them down in front of us, departing with a very visible wink at Hendy.

“To a memorable evening with a beautiful woman.” He hoists his glass off the table and I do the same.

I blush—because when was the last time someone called me beautiful?—then shake my head and we tap our glasses together. Sipping our drinks, we stare at each other over the rims of our glasses, and a million questions pop in my head.

“Well, why don’t you tell me something about yourself, Hendy?” I say in an effort to sound casual. “All I know at this point is you save reckless skiers out on the slopes and know the bartender. Which tells me you come here a lot.”

His lips quirk up to the side and the brights of his eyes shine with mystique. He raises a hand, bringing the glass to his lips, and his shirt’s fabric clings tight to his bicep. Damn, this man has incredible definition. I felt it earlier when his arms were tightened around my body as he held me upright, saving me from danger. My eyes automatically scan over his face and down his chest where the skin-tight shirt pulls over the grooves of his abdominals.

He cocks his head to one side and regards me quietly. “I come up as often as I can. And, if you must know, I once won a chess competition.”

My eyes widen. “Really? You play chess?”

He nods. “As a kid, my dad taught me. It wasn’t that hard to learn,” he admits with a sheepish grin. “What about you? You’re obviously not from around here. Where are you from?”

I set my wine down and let my mind flip through my childhood memories but answer his first question. “I’m here on holiday from the East Coast.”

Hendy narrows his eyes at me, disbelieving my statement. I chuckle. “Fine, I’ve been living on the East Coast. I’m originally from the UK. And when I was around six or seven, I found a missing dog and received a monetary reward for his return.”

“Wow. It seems I’m in the presence of a real Sherlock Holmes,” he teases, a slow grin parting at his mouth.

That smile of his is deadly.

He casually sets down his drink and his index finger brushes against mine. The touch—albeit quick—makes my breath hitch. As if waiting to see how I respond, he does it again, this time purposefully rubbing his finger along mine.

An electric current runs through my body, surging over my skin, racing in my bloodstream as desire explodes between my legs. Underneath my sweater, my nipples harden, and I stare at his face. His grin turns into a wicked smile that etches across his lips.

It’s that smile that is my undoing. He’s going to be my one-night stand.

Tonight. Now.

I reach for my drink and drain it, suddenly needing a little liquid courage. He mirrors me and sets down his empty glass.

We both speak at the same time.

“Would you like another?”

“Let’s get out of here,” I state boldly, not even recognizing my own voice. “Unless…I’m being presumptuous.”

Oh shit. Now I feel like a fool. What if he’s married? Has a girlfriend? Isn’t interested?

I want to backpedal and erase what I just said.

But from the heated look in his eyes, he’s all in.

He pulls out some money from his pocket, tosses it on the table and then stands. Holding out his hand to me, I take it, along with the acceptance of my decision that this is going to happen.

“Your place or mine?” he asks, standing behind me as he helps me into my coat. His voice is deep and low, and the warmth of his breath fans over my neck. It startles me how powerful it is.

He must take this as anxiety, because he whispers in my ear.

“I’m not a serial killer, if that’s what you’re worried about. In fact, you can leave your name and number with Jake if it makes you feel better. I’ve also never been arrested,” he says with a smirk.

He’s one cocky bastard, but secretly it thrills me. He’s working to establish trust and make me feel more confident with him.

“Just because you haven’t been arrested could just mean you haven’t been caught yet,” I point out, feeling sassy and buoyant with excitement now.

A deep laugh reverberates from his chest and his hand grasps my hand in his as we leave the bar. I suck in a breath. This man is doing things to me with just the barest of touches and the sound of his voice has my core clenching deliciously in ways it hasn’t in years.

“Touché.”

I contemplate his question about where we should go. If I’m going to make a bad decision tonight, at least I should have the home-court advantage.

“Let’s go to mine. You can follow me. I’m just a mile up the road.” I say as he leads us out to the parking lot, his hand returning to the small of my back.

The minute we get to the house and we’ve removed our outerwear, the electricity crackles and vibrates around us. I secretly want to pat myself on the back for being brave enough to pick up this hot as hell man. He’s young, gorgeous, and has biceps that look like I could hang from them.

Fuck me .

“I plan to,” he whispers in a sexy, throaty voice as he steps into my body, running his nose along my neck, and then plants his lips there.

Oh shit. I said that out loud.

I let out a sharp gasp when he picks me up to carry me down the hallway, and I wrap my legs around his waist.

“Just show me the way.”

I point him toward the bedroom and as he sets me down on the edge of the bed, I raise my palm to his chest.

“Just to be clear, this is only for one night. Not the weekend,” I state, my body weeping with need as he stands before me and whips his shirt off his torso.

His hair is messy and his glacier-blue eyes have turned into a dark winter storm.

“I can work with that.”

It’s a good thing I laid down that rule because he’s just the type of man I could fall for too easily.

I have too much ahead of me to want anything more than a one fun and sex-filled night with Hendy.