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  “Size eight?”

  “Seven and a half.”

  Campbell grinned. “Close enough. I hope you’re wearing thick socks.”

  “You were being serious?”

  “Not about the Kenneth Cole part, but yeah, these are your ski boots. Come on, I’ve got more stuff for you downstairs.” Then she disappeared.

  Parker froze. I’m so busted. This had been coming from the moment she lied to Emery Carson in her first interview. But she’d thought she had another week or two to figure out a winning strategy.

  So what if she had implied she could ski, maybe even suggested she enjoyed skiing on a regular basis? She had rationalized her deceit in several ways. She wasn’t totally lying—she didn’t hate to ski, or ski poorly. For all she knew she was a great skier. She simply hadn’t tried to find out, and she wasn’t that excited about doing so now.

  Slowly she stood and put on her coat. Pausing at the top of the stairs, she watched Campbell pull on a pair of Gore-Tex ski pants over her jeans and felt a flash of panic. This is really happening. She had worked hard over the past two months to establish her credibility as a knowledgeable marketing strategist and would lose it when it became obvious that she didn’t have a clue how to ski.

  If she were to trip and break her leg while going down the stairs, she would have an excuse not to have to ’fess up to her big secret. Oh, for God’s sake, Parker, are you seriously considering bodily harm to avoid being found out? She hurried down the stairs before she seriously considered the option.

  Campbell smiled. “Suit up. We’re about to make the first tracks of the season.”

  “Wow, that sounds like quite an honor.” Parker hoped the nervousness in her voice wasn’t too obvious. She pulled on the extra pair of pants Campbell had laid out for her, then tried to mimic Campbell’s moves as she stepped into a pair of the heavy black boots like those she had brought for Parker. But when she slipped her feet inside she realized that, unlike Campbell’s, which had a row of clips down the front, hers clasped in the back.

  Before she had a chance to make sense of the straps, Campbell bent down next to her and said, “Lean forward.” She did as told, and in one motion Campbell buckled her in. Then Campbell’s hands tightened around the top of the boot, where it met her calf muscle. “How does that feel?”

  “Uh, that’s good,” Parker replied softly, her mouth dry from the unexpected heat of their contact. She tried not to dwell on the fact that a woman knelt in front of her, but her body reacted on its own and her temperature rose rapidly. Focus, Parker, you’re about to be revealed as a fraud, and here you are thinking about Campbell’s face between your legs.

  “Good. Here are some gloves,” Campbell said, oblivious to the fact that her innocent touch had burned through both the ski pants and jeans and was still heating Parker’s skin. She pulled on the gloves without letting her eyes wander to any part of Campbell’s body. Perhaps Alexis was right and she had been sleeping alone for too long. She was about to be caught in a pretty big lie, and all she could think about was Campbell’s hand on her leg.

  “Hat and goggles,” Campbell instructed, and Parker silently put on the last few items of ski gear while she tried to regain her composure.

  They started toward the door but Parker stumbled slightly in her boots, which were heavy and caused her to pitch forward just enough to affect her balance. Campbell turned to her without judgment or mockery in her expression, merely a gentle grin. “They’re always a little awkward at first.”

  Campbell led her onto the deck and down the stairs before she turned to offer her a hand. Parker thought about resisting. Though she couldn’t ski, she wasn’t helpless, but the gesture was so natural, so unassuming, that she accepted it and let herself be steadied as she took each stair with one foot, then the other. She actually felt slightly disappointed when she reached the bottom and broke the contact between them. It had been a long time since she had felt the casual touch of a woman, and even a helping hand was better than the emptiness when the contact was withdrawn.

  Quietly she followed Campbell about forty yards to the base of the new snow that had been spread out just a few hours earlier. It was twilight on a Tuesday evening, and the mountain was quiet except for the distant rumble of the snowguns farther up the slopes. Only the rapid beating of her own heart—fear at being caught mixing with the excitement of sharing an intimate moment with Campbell—broke the serenity of the moment.

  She noticed two pairs of skis on the ground, one pair drastically shorter than the other, and wondered why Campbell was the one she would have to confess to. She should have told Emery the truth. It would have been hard to admit she’d lied to her boss, but embarrassing herself in front of Campbell seemed worse. Gorgeous, strong, opinionated Campbell, and just when they were starting to make some progress. This lie could cost them the guarded respect they had established and undercut any potential friendship.

  Campbell stepped into a small wooden hut a few feet ahead of her, and some lights above them flickered to life. A second later the conveyor belt in front of the hut creaked and whirred as it began to turn slowly. She had to say something soon, but she couldn’t find the right words, so when Campbell exited the hut she just blurted, “I can’t ski.”

  Campbell smiled broadly. “I know.”

  “I don’t see how that will impair my judgment as a marketing strategist, and it certainly doesn’t make me less dedicated to doing my job and—what?”

  Campbell laughed. “I know you can’t ski. That’s why I plan to teach you.”

  “How did you know?”

  “I could tell last weekend when we were talking about the types of slopes and snow.”

  “Was I that obvious?” Parker asked. Maybe everyone had seen right through her.

  “Not at all.” Campbell smiled again. “You put up a very good front, and I don’t see why anyone else needs to know,” she answered matter-of-factly. “By the time the resort opens, you’ll ski well enough that no one will suspect you haven’t been doing it for years.”

  Parker stared into her eyes. Campbell was throwing her a lifeline without a hint of self-satisfaction. She was apparently completely oblivious to the power dynamic of the situation, which made Parker feel inexplicably safe in her presence. That was extremely exciting. She hadn’t felt safe enough to be herself around anyone for months, and now that Campbell had given her the space to open up, she was inundated with emotions, most of them stemming from the knee-weakening smile Campbell was flashing her.

  *

  Campbell picked up her ski poles, adjusting them so that her gloved hands fit directly into the grooves of the rubber grips. She then handed a slightly shorter pair to Parker and said, “Just do what I do, okay?”

  Parker nodded and gripped the poles with her usual determined expression, but underneath it Campbell detected something more, something fragile. Learning to ski didn’t have as much to do with ego as it did with self-respect, which was much more appealing than the self-centeredness Campbell had assumed as the motivation for Parker’s lies. She would have to handle this lesson very carefully so Parker could gain ability without losing any dignity.

  “Use one of the poles to help you balance as you lift your foot.” Campbell demonstrated. “Go ahead and use the other pole to tap the side of your boot. This snow is pretty thick, and if it sticks to the bottom of your boot, you’ll have trouble locking into your skis.”

  Parker did as she was told, appearing to use every ounce of her energy to concentrate.

  Campbell watched her closely, not only studying her movements but also her facial expressions and body language. It was a beautiful body, lean and lithe, but she tried to stay focused on the technical aspects of Parker’s actions. “Good. Now place your boot on the ski binding so your toe and heel fall between those metal pieces. Listen carefully as you push your foot down.” For emphasis she stepped firmly onto her ski, causing it to snap into the binding with an audible click. “Just like that.”

&n
bsp; Parker mimicked her move perfectly, and her mouth twitched slightly upward in the hint of a smile when the boot clicked into position. Campbell was once again struck by her beauty. Parker’s deep brown eyes were intense with focus, and Campbell wondered once more what it would be like to have that type of attention directed at her. “This may sound silly now, but soon you’ll think that’s the sweetest sound in the world.”

  Doubt was written plainly across Parker’s face, but she didn’t say anything, so Campbell continued. She quickly snapped into her other ski and moved over to help steady Parker while she did the same. “This one is just the same, but you’ll be less balanced with your other boot already in the ski.”

  “I got it,” Parker said when the other boot clicked into place, the relief evident in her voice. Then a flicker of fear returned to her beautiful eyes. “So what now?”

  “First of all, just relax.” Campbell smiled gently. “This isn’t a job. Skiing is fun.”

  Parker rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the pep talk, but what do I need to do?”

  Campbell bit her tongue. She was learning that Parker’s abruptness was only a buffer to hide her apprehension. “Just wiggle around a little. Slide your skis back and forth to get used to the way they feel.” Parker, bracing herself with her poles, made a few tentative moves with her feet and seemed slightly comforted when the skis didn’t immediately fly out from under her. “See, they don’t have minds of their own, even though it may seem like it at times.”

  “I’d like to reserve judgment on that.” Parker smiled weakly. “When do I start hurtling down the mountain?”

  Campbell gave a light laugh. “Let’s learn the basics before we even think about the mountain.”

  “And what are the basics?”

  “Well, they’re very complicated,” Campbell stated gravely, “very serious positions that will determine the amount of speed and control you have at any given point.”

  “Wonderful,” Parker mumbled sarcastically, “what are they?”

  Still refusing to crack a smile, Campbell said, “They’re called ‘pizza’ and ‘French fries.’”

  Parker cocked her head to one side. “‘Pizza’ and ‘French fries?’”

  “Hey.” Campbell finally allowed herself to grin. “I told you this isn’t rocket science. Try to have fun.”

  “Fine,” Parker sighed, “how do I do a French fry?”

  “What about that?” Campbell pretended to be amazed. “You’re already doing French fry.”

  Parker regarded her skis, which were exactly parallel and slightly less than shoulder width apart. “This is it?”

  “That’s it. You just point your skis ahead of you, down the hill, close enough to keep control of them, but with enough room that they don’t get crossed up. See, they’re like two French fries, side by side.”

  “And what does French fry do?”

  “It makes you go really fast down the mountain.” Campbell chuckled, knowing that wasn’t the position Parker wanted to start off with.

  “What?” Parker gasped. “That’s not what I want to do.”

  “Then you’d better learn to pizza,” Campbell teased.

  Parker glared at her, but Campbell could tell she was fighting a smile. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  “Of course I am. Why? Aren’t you?”

  Parker’s cheeks were rosy from the cold, and she was still gripping her ski poles in a hypervigilant attempt to stay balanced, but her eyes danced with amusement and a slow smile played at the corners of her delicate mouth. “Surprisingly, I am.”

  “Good,” Campbell said, hoping the extent of her relief wasn’t too evident in her tone. “Then you’ll love pizza, which we sometimes call snowplowing. All you have to do is point your skis so they angle in toward each other in the front.” She demonstrated the move as Parker watched. “This position makes your skis form a triangle like a slice of pizza.”

  “Like this?” Parker turned her skis slightly inward but made small adjustments with her body.

  “Just spread your legs wider.” The words were out of Campbell’s mouth before she thought about the suggestiveness of the command. Immediately her face flamed as she wondered if Parker could tell her mind had slipped into the gutter.

  Thankfully she was too busy trying to mimic Campbell’s stance. “Like this?”

  “You got it. Be careful that the tips of your skis don’t get crossed, or, as we tell the kids, don’t let your skis kiss. No kissing on the slopes.” That joke always went over well with the children in her ski group, but once again it took on a completely different meaning with Parker, or at least it did to Campbell as she envisioned what that would entail, and it had nothing to do with skis.

  Campbell kept talking, hoping she didn’t appear as frazzled as she felt. “You can keep an inch or two between them to avoid getting tangled up. If you dig in with your instep and put a little pressure into the stance, you should slow down to a nice gentle stop.”

  “Nice gentle stop,” Parker repeated softly, as if for her own benefit.

  “Now let’s go for a magic carpet ride,” Campbell said, nodding toward the conveyor belt to her left.

  “Pizza, French fries, and magic carpets. Why does all this sound like a children’s fantasy world?”

  “Because it is.” Campbell laughed. “And the sooner you learn to see it for what it is, the more you’ll enjoy it.”

  “I’m not very in touch with my inner child,” Parker confessed.

  “Well, just scoot your skis up here.” Campbell pushed forward with her poles until the conveyor belt caught her skis and started rolling her up the hill. “Maybe a few trips down the bunny slope will remind you what it feels like to be a kid.”

  Parker appeared skeptical, but she did as instructed and a wave of relief showed on her face when she successfully made it onto the carpet lift.

  “Childlike lesson number one. Go with the flow,” Campbell called. “At the top, the lift will slide you onto the snow. You’ll pick up a little speed for a second, but if you ride it out, you’ll be fine. If you fight it, you’ll fall. It’s that simple.” Then she slid onto the snow and glided to a stop a couple of feet from where Parker approached the end of the lift.

  “Okay, just relax. I’ll be right here to help you get off.” Campbell almost choked on the phrase as it left her mouth. Oh, my God, I just offered to get her off, she screamed internally. What was suddenly making everything sound so sexual? She had to get a grip. The last thing Parker needed right now was a teacher more focused on checking her out than helping her out.

  Campbell struggled to turn her attention back to the lesson as Parker hit the edge of the tightly packed snow. The instant her skis began to move faster, Parker attempted to dig in with her poles and grind her feet into her skis, and she immediately toppled over. Campbell shook her head. Parker’s need for constant control would make these lessons a lot harder than they had to be.

  “I guess now would be a good time to show you how to take one of your skis off. It’s a lot easier to get back up that way.”

  “Yeah, that would be helpful,” Parker said through gritted teeth, and Campbell’s customary frustration around her threatened to return.

  “Take one of the poles and use it to reach back behind your bottom ski boot and push down on the release. When your boot’s free, use that foot to help you stand back up.”

  Parker quickly did as she was told and hopped back onto her feet. Without waiting for further instructions, she lifted the foot she had just freed, tapped it with her pole, and pushed it into its ski again. She then defiantly faced Campbell. “Let’s go.”

  Campbell shrugged and faced downhill. She wouldn’t do Parker any favors by trying to restrain her obvious determination. That level of resolve came from years of self-reliance and self-preservation. To deny it or attempt to temper it would come across as condescending.

  “All right, now, we’re going to pizza all the way to the bottom, just so you can get a
feel for it.”

  Parker nodded, her eyes focused somewhere toward the bottom of the hill. With a deep breath she pushed off, Campbell following a few yards behind. She watched Parker wobble and weave down the first part of the small slope. She performed the technical aspects exactly as she’d been instructed, but her balance was visibly shaky. When she approached the halfway point, her skis were edging too close together and she was picking up speed, so Campbell called out, “Pizza, Parker, pizza!”

  Parker’s skis turned slightly inward so that the tips were almost touching and her speed started to decrease, just as it should. Campbell kept going at her initial pace so she could pull in front of Parker and see her expression, but just as she paused beside her, Parker’s skis crossed. Oh no, she’s going down. Campbell’s heart began to pound.

  Parker started to slide sideways as she struggled to lift the top ski off the bottom one. Campbell helplessly watched her slip farther down the hill, her earlier expression of determination penetrated by fear, her face contorted with frustration. Finally, Parker lost her fight for balance as she dropped into the snow. Campbell winced and dug her skis to an almost instantaneous stop, but to her amazement Parker popped right back up, as if she had bounced off the snow. Her eyes wide with surprise, she had the presence of mind to turn her skis back into the pizza position, and with her momentum already slowed by her earlier struggles, she was able to glide to a stop only a foot or two from the bottom of the carpet lift.

  Campbell pointed her skis in that direction and stopped right next to Parker, throwing an arm around her shoulder and pausing only to register the intoxicating feel of her lithe frame and sinewy limbs against her body while she tried to figure out how Parker had managed to stay upright. The tension of the previous moments dissipated and they burst out laughing. “How did you do that?”

  “I didn’t want to fall again,” Parker said through a mix of deep breaths and heavy laughter.

  Campbell pulled her closer into the crook of her arm. “I’ve skied my whole life, and I’ve never seen anyone stay upright through sheer force of will. I thought you were a goner.”