Skye stopped at the crest of the ski run and took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the Victorian Alps laid out before her. A breeze, full of the scent of eucalypts and the cool freshness of snow, blew a lock of red hair into her eyes. She swept it back under her ski hat and took a deep breath.
‘What a beautiful day.’ She’d skied in Austria and Canada, but even though the ski season was so much shorter in Australia and the snow not nearly as good, there was nothing like the stark beauty of the blue-tinged mountains of the Great Dividing Range. The other ski resorts were breathtaking too, but these mountains were home. They sang to her soul in a way the others couldn’t.
Taking another deep breath, she pushed off over the crest and, with a wild ‘Yahoo!’, flew down the slope, her knees moving like rubber pistons as she attacked the moguls.
She ignored the swish and slide of other skiers around her, enjoying this moment of freedom on her last day, before she had to go back and face the real world. She wished she had an extra few days to gird her loins—as her grandpa used to say—against the responsibilities awaiting her at home, but it wasn’t to be.
Instead, she was determined just to be happy with the now. It was a rare clear day at Mt Buller, and she was going to enjoy it to her fill.
She was just getting into a rhythm on the moguls when a strange chill crept down her spine—the kind of chill you got when someone was watching you surreptitiously. She’d been having that feeling off and on all day. She slowed, turning to see if she could catch them at it.
‘Whoa!’ she heard. Then something hard and heavy smashed into her. The sky tipped and an oof of breath exploded out of her as she hit the snow. A large body landed on top of her and then they were sliding, smashing over and through the moguls, until they finally slowed and came to a stop.
Head spinning, she lay with her arms flung out wide, crushed under the hot weight of a man. She moaned.
‘Are you okay?’ the man’s husky voice murmured in Skye’s ear.
‘Only if I don’t breathe,’ she managed, surprised she wasn’t winded. Snow inched into the collar of her parka. She shivered.
He shifted, pushing up onto his elbows to look down at her.
Despite the pain sparking through her body—damn, she was going to have some impressive bruises for show-and-tell on Monday—she became uncomfortably aware of the way their hips pressed together, legs tangled. She hadn’t been this close to a man in way too long. This wasn’t the way she’d imagined it happening again, though.
She tried to move. The action made his board—amazingly still attached to his feet—cut into her leg. She winced. ‘Well, this is a very charming way to meet and all, but can you get off, please? You’re crushing my legs.’
‘Sorry.’ He scrambled back.
‘Oh, fudgy-duck!’ She gasped as his board scraped over the bruise.
‘Are you hurt?’ He ran his hand over her leg, checking for injury.
Shivers chased across her skin that had nothing to do with the snow melting inside her jacket. Skye pulled away. ‘No. I’m fine. Just let me stretch it out.’
He shifted back. But instead of getting up and skiing off like most other people would, he stayed, kneeling beside her as she stretched out her leg.
‘I’m so sorry. I usually ski, but my brother talked me into trying out a snowboard this year.’
Her temper spiked at his words. Rubbing her aching leg, she snapped, ‘Are you kidding me? What the hell are you doing on Federation? It’s a black run—or didn’t you notice all the signs up the top, you irresponsible arse?’
His eyebrows rose above his sunglasses. ‘Wow. That thing about redheads and tempers is true.’
She bristled. ‘You could have killed yourself, or someone else. Namely me!’
He brushed snow from his hair. ‘For your information, I was doing okay until I hit that goddamned icy patch. I don’t know why I agreed to try a board,’ he grumbled.
He sounded so much like her twin, River, when he was pouting, that her flare of anger disappeared and she had to hide her grin. ‘So why did you go over to the dark side?’
‘My trickster of a brother said it would be a rush, but I think he just wanted to see me fall on my arse.’
Her lips twitched. ‘That would be okay, except for the fact that you fell on mine.’
‘It looked softer than mine.’
She choked on a laugh. ‘Are you saying I have a fat arse?’
Rather than trying to back-pedal, his mouth curled into a lopsided smile—such a lovely mouth. ‘No. In fact, I was thinking how nice it looked before I smacked into you.’
Skye dragged her eyes from his mouth. ‘Is that why you took me for a toboggan ride, with me as the toboggan? To meet me and my nice arse?’
‘That, and the fact you stopped so suddenly.’
She snorted. ‘I thought you said there was an icy patch.’
‘Yeah.’ He laughed. ‘I did. Didn’t I?’ He pushed his sunglasses off his face to look down at her.
She gaped.
He had the most startling eyes. They were deeply blue on the edge, almost black, but lightened to an icy blue at their centre. Lightning-bolt striations crazed through the iris, making it seem as if his eyes glowed. They reminded her of a picture of a wolf River had put on his bedroom wall when they were young. She’d asked him to take it down. He’d thought it was because she was frightened of big dogs, but it hadn’t just been that. The wolf’s eyes had haunted her in a way that confused her ten-year-old soul.
This man’s eyes were even more dangerous to her equilibrium. They pulled her in. Her chest ached like she’d been winded.
He broke eye contact and pushed to his feet, allowing her to catch her breath. ‘Here, let me help you up.’ He put out his hand.
Don’t touch him!
Skye hesitated as her inner voice barked at her; it was part of a spell her grandpa had woven to stop her from using her magic and to warn of any other magic users around. It usually sounded like her grandpa, calm and kind and supportive, but now her grandpa’s voice held a tone like that of her grandmother, Morrigan Cantrae, at her commanding best.
Her first instinct was to do the opposite of anything Morrigan commanded. But she was no longer a child and instead of fighting it, she hesitated as she thought it through.
Her inner voice, changed or not, was only supposed to react so forcefully if she tried to use her magic—something that could never be allowed—or if an equally powerful witch or warlock was around or she was in danger.
Well, she hadn’t used her magic and there was nothing about this man that suggested
he was a warlock; no tingling under her skin that warned her a true magic user stood before her. No sense of impending disaster.
And the chance of him being an axe murderer was pretty well zip.
So, if he wasn’t a warlock or an axe murderer, there was no reason not to accept his offer of help.
She put her hand in his.
His fingers were strong as they wrapped around hers, and so warm the heat of him soaked into her, even through her gloves.
‘Thanks,’ she choked out as that warmth slid through her, doing something entirely untoward to her nerves. Overwhelmed, she pulled her hand from his grip.
He stepped back.
Perversely, now that he’d moved away, she wanted to get closer, beg him to touch her again. What the hell?
‘Are you sure I can’t do anything for you?’
Looking up into his face and those remarkable eyes, his voice a melting tenor in her ears, she forgot all about the pain in her leg and ankle. ‘I’m pretty certain there are many and various things you could do for me.’ Oh God! Had she said that out loud? She slapped her hand over her mouth, eyes wide. The look on his face told her she had. ‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered through her fingers. ‘I don’t know why I said that.’
He moved closer. ‘I don’t mind that you did.’
She swallowed hard, forced herself to answer. ‘But I do. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’
His brow furrowed again. ‘Maybe you knocked your head.’
‘I don’t think so.’ She tried to look away but couldn’t. It was those eyes. And his voice. That was why she was behaving like such a weirdo. There was one room in the house where eyes and a voice like that really came into their own—and it wasn’t the kitchen.
He was so gorgeous, with sinfully long dark lashes, the chiselled features of a male model and a dimple in his left cheek. The only thing that marred his perfect good looks was the scar that ran through his top lip—but that just made him look rugged and tough rather than pretty.
She sighed, wanting to touch his dimple, run her fingers across the stubborn jut of his jaw and linger on that scar. She wanted to flirt and have some fun. This was her holiday, after all. But she was vastly out of practice with flirting. She hadn’t been on a date for years. What was the point when she could never get serious with anyone? Instead, she’d concentrated on building her business and spending time with River. Not that she minded: it was her fault her twin was housebound. She owed it to him to always be there.
The man stepped closer bringing her attention snapping back to him. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’
The more he spoke, the more she thought of a good bottle of red, low seductive music and a plush fur rug before a fire. It was difficult not to reach for him, push her fingers through his silky brown hair and bring her lips to his.
But the way he looked at her indicated he didn’t have the same inclination, regardless of his comments about her nice arse. He looked more confused than interested.
Disappointed when she knew she shouldn’t be, she said, ‘I’m fine, really.’ She put weight on her sore foot and took a few hobbling steps. ‘Almost as good as new.’
He looked unconvinced. ‘Perhaps you should call it a day. You’re limping.’
She shook her head. ‘Are you kidding? It’s not often you get days like this at Buller.’
She gestured at the blue sky, the snow-laden trees lining the run, the mountains of the Victorian Alps marching into the distance, covered in the blue haze of thousands of eucalypts. ‘You would have to chop my leg off with your snowboard to stop me from skiing on such a beautiful day.’ She cocked her head to the side, considering. ‘Nah. Maybe not even then.’
He laughed, the sound washing over her like warm water lapping at her skin. ‘Let me see you down to the bottom at least, make sure you get to the lift.’
Skye’s gaze raked over his face, her vision blurring. The way he looked at her reminded her of something … someone.
‘Hello!’ He waved his hand in front of her face. ‘Don’t tell me I gave you a concussion.’
She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. ‘No. I’m fine. Just a bit of snow blindness.’ Pathetic excuse, but with him standing so close, she couldn’t seem to do better. Opening her eyes, she squinted. ‘It’s a bit bright with the sun. I should have worn my goggles.’
‘Are you sure?’
His voice was hypnotic. She couldn’t stop herself leaning forward, breathing in his scent. The need to give in to the temptation to touch, to kiss, to lick, was overwhelming. It was like she’d been bewitched.
She snapped upright. Panic clawed at her throat. Could she be? Bewitched?
No. Bron had said she had stronger shields than anyone she’d ever met, thanks to her grandpa’s spell, and there was no reason not to trust her best friend in this matter. She was Wiccan after all. Not a true magic user like her family had been, but she did know about this stuff.
So what was happening to her?
Lust.
Yes. That was it. Mr Too-Gorgeous-For-Sanity was a fantasy come to life. She had to ignore the sensations shooting through her body. Force herself to be sensible. He was just being friendly because he’d knocked her over. And she’d made enough of a fool of herself for one day.
Biting her lip, trying to shelve her disappointment, she nodded. ‘I’m sure. Go and kill your brother for making you snowboard and then enjoy the day.’
He chuckled. ‘I might just do that. Adam needs a good killing.’
‘Excellent. So, off you go. I’ll be fine by myself.’ Before he could say anything else, she hobbled down the hill to her skis. She clicked into the bindings, swallowing a gasp as pain sliced up from her ankle. Clenching her jaw, she endeavoured to ignore it. After all, she’d put up with worse.
There was the slide of board on snow behind her and she looked up to see the Adonis making his way down the slope towards her.
‘How about I shout you a hot chocolate at Koflers just to make sure you’re fine?’
Surprisingly pleased by his perseverance, Skye opened her mouth to say yes.
Don’t say it! her inner voice snapped.
Taken aback, she blinked. Why?
He may not stink of magic, but there’s something about him that’s affecting you. Think about River. Think about what your magic did to him.
Even though the voice still didn’t sound like it usually did, Skye knew it was right. This man might not have the magic to bewitch her, but he was making her behave strangely, almost to the point of acting without thinking—which she never did. She could never afford to lose control—her magic had only ever brought pain. She swallowed hard, knowing that despite the fact this was a holiday and she should be able to flirt and have fun, she couldn’t do it with this man.
Taking herself in hand, she said, ‘Thanks, but no thanks. I still want to get a few runs in before I call it a day.’
‘What about a drink after? I feel I need to say sorry in some way.’
The wish to say yes was almost a pain inside her; but that in itself was reason to say no. ‘I can’t. I’ve got a prior engagement with friends.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ He flashed a grin so charming it made her breath catch. ‘I’ll just have to hope we’ll meet another time and your answer will be different.’ He leaned forward, his astonishing warmth radiating towards her, and took a deep breath as if trying to breathe her in.
It was weird and yet … unbelievably sexy.
‘Okay,’ she squeaked. Unable to stand his closeness for another moment and not give in to his invitation, she pushed off with her good leg and took off down the slope. Pain stabbed up her leg from her wounded ankle. A little whimper escaped from her lips.
What are you? A lion or a mouse?
A lion.
So ignore it. You have to get away from him.
She took in a shuddering breath—duck-it, she could still smell the warm male scent of him; earthy and yet clear and fresh, like the mountain air, yet so very different in how it affected her. Mountain air was cooling, refreshing; this was … hot and made need simmer under her skin. She took in another breath as she created more distance between them; but the scent stayed with her as if it was imprinted on her senses.
A tingle started down her spine. Was he watching her? Were his eyes caressing her arse the way he said they had been before he crashed into her? She almost groaned at the memory of the way they’d come to a stop, his body spread on top of hers, chest to chest, legs tangled. Skye bit her lip as muscles well below her abdomen clenched and quivered.
It was a sensation she’d not felt for a long time—too long. Hell, she’d almost become a nun with the length of time she’d been celibate, and she’d been content with that. But coming face to face with that Adonis would make even a nun change her habits. It wasn’t so unusual that he’d had such an impact on her.
Or was it?
She stopped herself from glancing back over her shoulder. It didn’t matter what she felt. All that mattered was it couldn’t be. Her life was like this by necessity. There was no choice. She’d come to terms with that a long time ago.
Lifting her face to the sun, she decided to luxuriate in the rare spring day and not worry about could-have-beens.
The sapphire blue sky was glorious.
And reminded her of his eyes.
She stared at the choppy snow in front of her. Yes, that was better. Nothing about the snow reminded her of him. It did remind her that she needed to thank Shelley and Bron once again for agreeing to change their plans for a Noosa holiday and had come with her to Mt Buller instead for the last of the season. Good snow in spring was a rarity, so she hadn’t been able to pass up the opportunity when a few days before they were due to leave for Noosa, a huge dump was reported. Fresh powder, the blue skies of spring and the freedom she only felt in the mountains was a siren call she couldn’t ignore. Thankfully her friends agreed, even though they weren’t as keen to get on the slopes as she was and stay there all day. They were more into staying at the lodge or enjoying a cocktail or two at one of the bars that was still open at this time of the year.
Which was where she’d left them to come out and get in a few more runs before the lifts closed for the day.
They had planned to go out again tonight for their last night here and she’d been looking forward to it, but the pain in her ankle was beginning to make her doubt if she’d be able to. By the feel of it, she might have done some serious damage. Duck-it! Bron was bound to fuss and Shelley to lecture.
Her spine tingled again. Was Mr Too-Gorgeous-For-Sanity still watching her? She turned her head to sneak a peek and lost her rhythm. Her ski slid down the side of a mogul and pain jagged up her leg. She groaned.
‘Are you okay?’ he yelled, his voice winding around her like a feather stroke even at this distance.
She didn’t look back again, only waved, hiding her red face, not wanting him to ski after her.
A moment later, she pulled up at the end of the queue of skiers and boarders waiting to get on the lift. She chanced a glance back up the slope. He stood right where she’d left him and something about the way he stood made her certain he was still looking right at her. She shivered, the sensation far too pleasurable for her own—or anyone’s—good.
She shuffled forward, glad the queue was fast moving, but still she couldn’t help breathing out a sigh of relief as she hopped on a chair and it climbed into the air through shielding trees.
Adonis might not be a warlock, but his combination of good looks, charm and velvety voice was just as dangerous. He’d not only made her want to change her nun-like habits, he made her feel like a horny teenager. He’d even made her consider, for a split second, turning her back on her obligations and the promises she’d made to her grandpa and to River.
She could never do that. Ever.
Those promises kept them all safe.
As the lift rose over the crest of the slope, she shivered. This time it wasn’t the feeling of being watched that made that strange tingle race up and down her spine; thoughts of what happened all those years ago always did this. Her magic pushed at her, fighting to get out. She swore, pushing it back down. That man’s presence had addled her brain, made her shields weak. Closing her eyes, she repeated the mantra she’d been taught.
Her magic was dangerous. To protect River and everyone she loved, it was something she could never set free.