The Cavern
“Are all Aussies crazy or are you the exception?”
Darci grinned at her helicopter pilot, adjusting the
polarized goggles on her face. “Nah, we’re all mad as cut snakes.”
The pilot gave her an incredulous look—either because he
didn’t have a clue what she’d just said or he thought she really was crazy.
Maybe both.
“So tell me again why a pretty little thing like you wants
to jump seven thousand feet from a ’copter onto Mount Saint Elias with nuthin’
but a pair of skis on your feet and two poles to keep you upright?”
Darci’s grin stretched wider and she checked her boots. “A
bet.”
“A bet?” The pilot raised his eyebrows. “With who?”
Darci tugged the zipper of her jacket closer to her neck.
“Crystal Jamieson.”
“The Olympic silver-medalist skier? From Colorado?”
“The very same.”
The pilot cocked his head and realization flared in his
eyes. “Now I know why you’re familiar!” he said. “You’re Darci Watson. The
Olympic—”
“ Gold medalist,” Darci finished for him, sliding open
the helicopter’s rear door. “From Sydney.” She looped her poles onto her
wrists, gave her gloves one last tug and the pilot a parting smile. “And I hate
losing a bet.”
With that, she flung herself from the ’copter and free-fell
through the air, heading straight for the pristine, untouched snow of Mount
Saint Elias below.
* * * * *
The run was perfect. Powdery-soft, lightly compacted snow,
sky so blue it almost hurt to look at, air so crisp it could cut glass. Darci
was in heaven. Her thighs, calves and butt burned like hell and her breath felt
like shaved ice in her lungs—just the way she loved it.
Whizzing down the slope, trees and craggy outcrops mere
smudges of blurring color in her peripheral vision, she couldn’t help but
laugh, already picturing Crystal’s face. The American would spit chips when
Darci swooshed into—
The slope opened below her, completely and abruptly, and
swallowed Darci whole.
“Shit!”
The word had barely left her lips when she smacked
butt-first against something that felt like frozen concrete.
Pain lashed through her body, making her cry out. “Fuck!”
Eyes squeezed shut, she lay still a minute or twelve before planting her hands
on the ground and slowly, hesitantly pushing herself into an upright position,
waiting to be assaulted by fresh agony.
None came. “Oh, thank God!”
Her gushed exclamation bounced around a space that sounded
huge, and Darci opened her eyes.
An ice cavern. She’d dropped into an ice cavern. Damn it.
Releasing her skis, now just two shattered strips of glass
fiber, bamboo and titanium, she rose gingerly to her feet, taking in her
predicament. A thick fog of dread rolled over her. The ice cavern was large,
yet claustrophobia crept through Darci. Frowning, she looked up. The small hole
she’d fallen through was far too high to reach. Her frown deepened. “How the
hell am I going to get out?” she muttered.
“That didn’t look like fun.”
Starting, Darci whipped her head around.
A tall man stood behind her, several feet away, his long
white hair falling around a face of cold beauty, blue eyes so brilliant she
felt her skin tingle. His intense stare locked on her.
It took a few moments before Darci realized he was naked.
In an ice cavern.
He stalked toward her, his towering muscular frame
dominating the space. “Who are you?”
Pulling off her goggles, she stared at him, speechless.
Christ, he was gorgeous! Sculpted muscles coiled and flexed with each slow step
closer. Muscles so big and sublime her breath caught in her throat.
Convinced he was a figment of her imagination, the result of
one minute swooshing down the cliff face and the next tumbling into an icy
abyss, she let her gaze roam. Hell, if she was going to have a psychotic
episode, she may as well enjoy it.
His exposed torso was the stuff of fantasies. It looked rock-hard,
as if carved from granite. On the whole,
“Are all Aussies crazy or are you the exception?”
Darci grinned at her helicopter pilot, adjusting the
polarized goggles on her face. “Nah, we’re all mad as cut snakes.”
The pilot gave her an incredulous look—either because he
didn’t have a clue what she’d just said or he thought she really was crazy.
Maybe both.
“So tell me again why a pretty little thing like you wants
to jump seven thousand feet from a ’copter onto Mount Saint Elias with nuthin’
but a pair of skis on your feet and two poles to keep you upright?”
Darci’s grin stretched wider and she checked her boots. “A
bet.”
“A bet?” The pilot raised his eyebrows. “With who?”
Darci tugged the zipper of her jacket closer to her neck.
“Crystal Jamieson.”
“The Olympic silver-medalist skier? From Colorado?”
“The very same.”
The pilot cocked his head and realization flared in his
eyes. “Now I know why you’re familiar!” he said. “You’re Darci Watson. The
Olympic—”
“ Gold medalist,” Darci finished for him, sliding open
the helicopter’s rear door. “From Sydney.” She looped her poles onto her
wrists, gave her gloves one last tug and the pilot a parting smile. “And I hate
losing a bet.”
With that, she flung herself from the ’copter and free-fell
through the air, heading straight for the pristine, untouched snow of Mount
Saint Elias below.
* * * * *
The run was perfect. Powdery-soft, lightly compacted snow,
sky so blue it almost hurt to look at, air so crisp it could cut glass. Darci
was in heaven. Her thighs, calves and butt burned like hell and her breath felt
like shaved ice in her lungs—just the way she loved it.
Whizzing down the slope, trees and craggy outcrops mere
smudges of blurring color in her peripheral vision, she couldn’t help but
laugh, already picturing Crystal’s face. The American would spit chips when
Darci swooshed into—
The slope opened below her, completely and abruptly, and
swallowed Darci whole.
“Shit!”
The word had barely left her lips when she smacked
butt-first against something that felt like frozen concrete.
Pain lashed through her body, making her cry out. “Fuck!”
Eyes squeezed shut, she lay still a minute or twelve before planting her hands
on the ground and slowly, hesitantly pushing herself into an upright position,
waiting to be assaulted by fresh agony.
None came. “Oh, thank God!”
Her gushed exclamation bounced around a space that sounded
huge, and Darci opened her eyes.
An ice cavern. She’d dropped into an ice cavern. Damn it.
Releasing her skis, now just two shattered strips of glass
fiber, bamboo and titanium, she rose gingerly to her feet, taking in her
predicament. A thick fog of dread rolled over her. The ice cavern was large,
yet claustrophobia crept through Darci. Frowning, she looked up. The small hole
she’d fallen through was far too high to reach. Her frown deepened. “How the
hell am I going to get out?” she muttered.
“That didn’t look like fun.”
Starting, Darci whipped her head around.
A tall man stood behind her, several feet away, his long
white hair falling around a face of cold beauty, blue eyes so brilliant she
felt her skin tingle. His intense stare locked on her.
It took a few moments before Darci realized he was naked.
In an ice cavern.
He stalked toward her, his towering muscular frame
dominating the space. “Who are you?”
Pulling off her goggles, she stared at him, speechless.
Christ, he was gorgeous! Sculpted muscles coiled and flexed with each slow step
closer. Muscles so big and sublime her breath caught in her throat.
Convinced he was a figment of her imagination, the result of
one minute swooshing down the cliff face and the next tumbling into an icy
abyss, she let her gaze roam. Hell, if she was going to have a psychotic
episode, she may as well enjoy it.
His exposed torso was the stuff of fantasies. It looked rock-hard,
as if carved from granite. On the whole,
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