In From the Cold by Meg Adams

I was at loose ends with five hours to myself.
    I thought I’d check out the main lodge first, so crunched my way over. I was halfway there when I felt a rush of cold air and heard skis scrape on snow beside me.
    “Hey, gorgeous.”
    I turned smiling, thinking to see Drake, but this was a stranger—albeit a very tall, blond, handsome one. I looked around, bewildered, sure he must be talking to someone else.
    “No, I mean you.” He chuckled, his eyes a startling blue, a smug grin on his face. “Did you think I made a mistake?”
    A trick question. If I said yes, I’d sound insecure; if I said no, I’d sound vain. Either way, he made me feel left-footed, and I didn’t appreciate the feeling. I decided I really didn’t care either way and kept walking.
    “Come on. Don’t you know a pick-up line when you hear it?” He swished beside me as I lumbered along in my Sorels. “I thought I was pretty obvious—must be losing my touch.”
    “Oh, you were obvious all right.” I kept walking, my eyes straight ahead. “I thought I was too.”
    “Ouch. A hit, a palpable hit.” He slapped his hand to his chest. I rolled my eyes and kept walking.
    “Still, when one sees such beauty, it’s worth a try. Let me buy you a drink.”
    “No, thank you.”
    “A cocoa?”
    “No, thank you.”
    “A diamond?”
    “Oh, for pity’s sake.” I stopped and turned to him. “Go. Ski.” I pointed to the highest mountain run. “Preferably up there—on the other side.”
    He loomed over me, his grin splitting his face. He really was extraordinarily handsome, Jim’s kind of handsome, the kind that made me want to run for the hills. There was something about him that seemed too practiced, too calculating—frankly, too creepy.
    “I can ski any time. It’s not every day I meet a woman as lovely as you.”
    I had finally reached the door of the lodge—and my limit—and turned to my pursuer.
    “As far as I’m concerned, you haven’t met me.”
    I shut the door in his face. The idiot was probably still grinning on the other side.
    Did lines like that really work? I guessed if you were in the market for only good looks some might go for him, but I pitied the girl who fell for that slimeball.
    I looked around me and quickly forgot about him. The room was breathtaking. A huge vaulted ceiling soared above me, with beautiful wood and stone and floor-to-ceiling windows that made the outdoors part of the interior decoration. It felt like a cathedral dedicated to the mountains. There was a huge stone fireplace, big enough for five people to stand in comfortably, and a restaurant open to the commons area. Some boutiques ranged against another wall, and skiers of all kinds milled about. I walked over to the bar area and ordered a cocoa, thinking a seat by the fire would be a great place to people watch.
    “Hi,” a deep male voice whispered in my ear.
    “Oh for the love of—” I whipped around, ready to let Mr. Ski-Slime have it, but it was Drake. My face must have registered my surprise.
    “Oh. Hi.”
    “Expecting someone else?” He raised an eyebrow and looked over his shoulder, then back at me.
    I shook my head. “No, my mistake.” I glanced over at the crowd by the fireplace, all of them fashionable and sophisticated, oozing money and ease. “So, is this the party?”
    “Uh hunh. Would you like to join us?”
    I tried to gauge his expression. Did he really want me to or was he just being polite? Did I want to? I looked up and a man in the crowd winked at me, another slimeball on the make. I grimaced.
    “Honestly, no.”
    “Then may I join you?” His blue eyes sparkled against the frame of his black knit cap, and the slight stubble on his cheeks made my hands twitch to rub it. Somehow, I managed to keep my hands clasped around my mug.
    “Won’t you miss your chance to schmooze or whatever you business types call it?”
    “I’ve been schmoozing all week, and all this morning. I’d love a break, and they won’t miss