Chapter Two

Harmony pulled on her new sweater and tugged a pair of snow-resistant bibbed pants over her fleece-lined leggings. Thank goodness for the clothing boutique downtown.

Most everything she’d brought with her from Miami was casual and lightweight, perfect for balmy Florida winters but no match for Vermont’s chilly temperatures. Why couldn’t she have packed something sexy when she raided the boxes in her storage unit? Then again, she hadn’t expected her ex-boyfriend to ask her out. Not that a dress was proper attire for skiing.

She double-checked the travel bag she’d stuffed in the closet. Nope, she hadn’t overlooked a slinky black outfit or platform heels. Damn. If only the boutique kept low-cut, make-your-man-stand-at-attention dresses and fuck-me pumps in stock, she would be set.

Harmony snorted. Birley was not her man, not anymore.

A flush of heat swelled from her chest to her face. Birley had been her first love, her best friend. How could she have let him go?

Tears pricked her eyes. She gripped the massive chest of drawers and breathed deeply. The large gilded mirror snagged her reflection.

Ugh. Had she aged ten years in the past minute? She smoothed the fine lines bracketing her eyes and mouth, then grabbed a knit beanie from a drawer and shoved it on her head. Her curly hair poofed out. Damn right. She patted the thick locks. Her straightening iron and a dozen haircare products could tame her lion’s mane, but she’d left them in Miami. Good riddance.

For too long, she’d let Claude dictate to her. His voice ran through her mind.

“Straighten your hair, Harmony. It’s beautiful smooth.”

“Happy birthday. Here’s a bottle of gel. I’ll treat you to a fancy restaurant so you can show off that silky hair.”

Barf. How had she fallen for him? Was it his sensual Italian accent, his olive-toned skin, or his brown eyes that flashed wicked fire when he pushed her against a wall and kissed her?

His good looks and prowess in bed had blinded her. By the time she ripped the wool from her eyes, she and Claude were married. They’d tried for children, hoping to save their relationship with a little one to love, but it wasn’t meant to be.

“Damn it. Claude is in the past.” She bit the inside of her cheek. He’d died young, tragically, but she was alive and free. “I’m only thirty-one years old. It’s time I moved on.”

She hurried to the bathroom and grabbed a tube of lip gloss from her makeup pouch. She rarely ventured into public without her face on, but whatever makeup she’d apply would wear off as she skied. Still, she dabbed on the gloss and rubbed her lips together, spreading the cherry-flavored goodness. Her taste buds tingled.

After she zipped up her boots and her insulated jacket, she grabbed her purse and scarf from the gleaming oak davenport in the corner. The small writing desk, along with the little chair scooted partially beneath it, had to be at least a century old. Or they were great replicas. She longed to open the French doors and step out on the balcony—anything to cool off the stifling room—but she would be freezing her ninnies off soon enough.

The digital numbers on her wristwatch flicked to 7:56, so she headed out the door. Coughing echoed from the sitting area. She veered the opposite way toward the main staircase.

A familiar voice rumbled from below.

Birley’s here. The blood in her veins heated.

The third to bottom step creaked under her weight. She paused, wincing. Air clogged her throat. One heartbeat. Two. Her breath rushed out. She leaned against the wall, out of sight from anyone in the first-level hallway.

“Harmony’s a local. Her dad is from this area, but her mom is from the West Coast.” Birley breezed over the facts. “We’ve been friends for more years than I care to count.”

“I recognized her last name yesterday when I registered her for a room. She said Stan was her uncle.” Jared Langford laughed, his tone pitching a little high.

She sighed, rolling her eyes. Her skin prickled. She couldn’t stomach people talking about her behind her back.

C’mon, H. Cool it. She looped the scarf around her neck and descended the last steps.

Birley leaned against the registration counter, his profile to her. His dark-blond locks fell over his head in sexy disarray. His ski coat and shiny waterproof pants sheathed his hard, strong body, adding layers to his bulk.

Jared shuffled a stack of papers, then tunneled his fingers through his light-brown hair. He glanced past Birley’s shoulder and grinned. “There she is. G’ morning.”

Birley flipped around and licked his lips. Heat sparked in his eyes.

Damn. If he was ready to eat her up while she was in winter gear, then her matching red lingerie would knock him flat on his back. If only she was wearing it. Perhaps she’d have the chance to later? She strode toward him with a sway in her step.

Birley’s chest rose and fell faster. “Hey. You look wonderful.” He wrapped his arm around her and kissed her cheek.

“Hi.” She hugged him, inhaling the scent of sandalwood. A groan crawled up her throat. Decadent. That aroma had to be from his soap. She patted her tingling cheek where his lips had touched.

He pulled back, but his hand lingered on her waist.

“Friends, huh? You guys are more than that.” Jared waggled his eyebrows at Birley, then smiled at Harmony. “I’ve only been living here a few years. When did you move away?”

“About ten years ago, for work.” She pointedly stared at both men before focusing on Jared. “Mom and Dad are running my grandparents’ bed-and-breakfast in California. Did Birley mention that when you two were gossiping like old hens?”

“Busted.” Jared nodded, chuckling, and popped Birley’s arm with a light tap.

Birley stiffened, dropping his arm to his side. “Sorry about that, Harmony.”

She shrugged. Starting the day off with an attitude problem was not in her plans. The scent of pine drifted from the ceramic bowl on the counter. She squeezed a prickly cone, letting the sting in her palm settle her nerves, and dropped the cone gently back with the others.

“Have you had breakfast?” Birley scratched his clean-shaven jaw.

“Yeah. Cold toaster pastries and energy bars.” She’d overslept, so a hot meal at the Red Clover Café—the restaurant at the rear of the inn—was out. Besides, she’d bought a lot of non-perishable items at the grocery store. Might as well eat them. “I have some granola bars in case we need a nibble later. Don’t wanna tumble down the slopes in exhaustion, right?” She tapped her jacket’s bulging left-side pocket.

“That wouldn’t be good.” Birley smirked, shaking his head. “See you later, Jared.”

“Have fun.” The other man turned to the computer.

Harmony headed down the hallway and out the front door. A chill hung in the air, and the breeze nipped her skin. Ooh, nice. Sunlight warmed her face as she descended the steps of the wraparound porch to the snow-covered yard. Birds twittered in the trees, music to her ears.

Birley lightly gripped her elbow, pulling her to a stop. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been talking with Jared about you, but he was only curious.”

“It’s all right. If I’d truly taken offense, I would’ve snapped at both of you.”

“That, I believe. You gave me hell when we were fifteen because I bragged to some guys about how well you kissed.”

She grinned. “And I refused to kiss you for a whole month after that.”

“The worst punishment ever.” His cheeks flamed red.

That month had been the longest of her life. At least until she became an adult and life started slapping her upside the head.

Birley linked his fingers with hers. “You mind if we take my SUV? I’ve already strapped my skis and poles to the roof.”

“No problem. I already figured we would, so I didn’t bother to nab Stan’s car last night. It doesn’t have a rack, anyway.” She followed him down a shoveled walkway to the parking lot. He released her hand, and she curled her fingers in a vain attempt to hold onto his warmth. As he tightened the bungee cords strapping the ski equipment to the metal rack, she squinted from the sun’s glare and stared up at the inn.

What a difference. The former innkeepers had neglected the Federal-style house during Harmony’s younger years, but Nathan Harte had done wonders with the repairs. Kudos to his construction team! The inn boasted slick, straight lines and double shutters bracketing each window, including the dormers on the roof—a far contrast to the ramshackle mess of twenty years past.

“Harmony?” He snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Hello?”

She drew back and bumped against the side of his silver SUV. “Sorry. Lost in thought.”

He swished his hand toward the open passenger door.

“Always the gentleman.” She settled into the leather seat.

He drove down a few streets and across the old covered bridge at the edge of town. Snowcapped pine and fir trees in the Green Mountain National Forest rose high as they traversed the winding road to the Sugarbush Ski Area, which was only a few miles west of town. After they passed through the open gate, he parked in the main lot and stuffed his keys in his coat pocket.

“I haven’t gone skiing since the last time I was in town.” Harmony bit her lip, tasting cherries, and rubbed her palms along her pants. “I’ll probably break my arm.”

“Not going to happen. You fall; I catch you.”

“What if I’m skiing out of control?” Laughter bubbled from her mouth. “If you give chase, we’ll crash together in a tangle of arms and legs, or both of us will hit smack-dab into a tree. I hope I haven’t jinxed us.”

His lips curved in the devastating grin that always weakened her knees. Thank God she was sitting.

“If that happens, we’ll be bunk-buddies in the hospital and have matching casts for our friends and family to sign.” He grasped her hand and lifted it, bumping the ceiling with a soft thud. “We’re in this together.”

She tsked, fighting a smile. The man was something else.

“It’s like riding a bike. Once you learn, you never forget.” He climbed out and darted around the vehicle for her door, but she popped it open first. His lips twisted into a scowl.

Same ole Birley. She donned her gloves, stuffed her wallet and cell in her pocket, and left her purse behind.

A blanket of white encompassed the main lodge and a smattering of outbuildings. Plumes of gray smoke pumped from the chimneys, and the woodsy scent tickled her nostrils. She’d missed the country. Logs in a hearth. The winter chill. She filled her lungs with the crisp air, then released her breath in a slow exhale.

After Birley grabbed his equipment, they waited in line at the ticket booth.

Her stomach roiled. Children laughed and bounced around her. Their smiling faces pierced her heart. Easy, now. She blinked back tears. She cleared another few feet to the booth and grimaced at the large sign hanging behind the female clerk. Damn, the prices had gone up.

“What’s wrong?” Birley settled his gloved hand on her back. “Would you like me to cover your ticket? The price is pretty high, especially since you have to rent the gear.”

“No, thanks. I got it.” The snap in her voice warmed her cheeks. She forced a smile. What happened to her poker face? Please, let him think her tears were because of the price.

He cocked his head, his brows furrowing.

She stiffened. Tingles shot down her spine. He raised his hand as though to caress her face. The air in her lungs stilled. Would his touch break her? Free the dam of pain in her heart?

He sighed, turning away, and pulled his hat from his pocket. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

Whew. She’d evaded the hangman’s noose for now. How long would her reprieve last?

They bought their tickets and headed to the rental stand. After they donned their ski boots and handed their regular shoes to an attendant for storage, they veered through the crowd en route to one of the chairlifts.

As Birley dropped his skis and snapped his feet into the bindings, she did the same with her red-and-black pair. Her heart pounded fast as they hopped on a lift. The cold metal guardrail burned her skin through her gloves, or maybe the nerves in her fingers were tingling. Goose bumps marred her arms. The wind slashed her face. She huddled into her faux-fur-lined jacket.

Towering pine trees scented the air and bordered the wide piste beneath the chairlift. Skiers zoomed by on the trail, no more than dots from her vantage point, and a few daredevils whipped dangerously close around the large, thick posts that rose from the ground to support the lifts. The low hum of grinding machinery drowned out the ruckus below, then the cranking noise faded.

“What a view.” Birley tucked the flapping ends of his long woolen scarf into the front of his coat. “I’m always amazed by how beautiful it is.”

Snowcapped peaks and miles of forestland stole her breath. Layers of white glistened like diamonds in the sunlight, nearly blinding her. The harder trails and connecting chairlifts behind her cut through the mountain to the top. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, letting the sun warm her face. How had she stayed away for so long?

“Miami, the beach, the sun—it’s great. The mountains, though, are magic. It’s home.” She grinned at Birley. “I hope you aren’t jonesing for a trip down the blue square or black diamond runs. I’m rustier than an old pickup at a scrapyard.”

He laughed and patted her leg. “Don’t worry. Let’s practice on this green-circle run for a while, and then we can try the intermediate levels, if you’re up for it.”

The lift slowed, and they slid off. A dozen or more strangers already occupied the relatively flat launching area, so she and Birley skied to one side.

Harmony extended her arms above her head, twisted from side to side, and bent over to touch her toes. Her hamstrings pulled, and she groaned. A sharp whistle resounded. She popped up and arched her eyebrow at Birley from over her shoulder. His hooded gaze burned right through her.

“Nice. Those pants were made for your ass.”

She snorted. “The fabric is bunchy. The leggings I’m wearing beneath it are shaping my booty like a second skin. Want to see?” Her nipples tingled. What was with the flirting?

“Hell, yes.” Desire flashed in his dark eyes.

Her chest, neck, and face flushed hotter than burning coals. She had more junk in her trunk than she liked, but the added bounce was a perk. Who was she to fight genetics?

“If you’re lucky, hot stuff.” Her pride soared as he moaned, his eyelids shuttering. She inched closer to the edge of the slope, eased the rented goggles over her eyes, and tightened the beanie on her head. A long, slow drag of fresh air soothed the lust building in her core.

“You’re such a tease.” Birley stabbed the poles in the compacted snow and stretched his arms. A low grunt escaped his lips. Then he strapped on his goggles. “Race you to the bottom.” He grabbed the poles and zoomed off, spraying snow across her skis and boots.

She bent her knees at an easy angle and flew down the piste. The brisk wind pushed against her as she sliced through it. A patch of ice gleamed a few yards ahead. She dug her poles into the snow and glided to the right. Her blood pumped faster. The beat of her pulse leapt to her throat, ricocheting in her ears.

Birley waited at the bottom of the trail, off to the side and out of the way of the other skiers. Sunlight reflected off the round piece of shiny green plastic nailed on the wooden trailhead post beside him.

The slope leveled out, so she leaned toward one side, gliding to a stop in front of Birley. Her skis kicked snow across his. “Again. No cheating this time. We push off together.”

“We’ll see.”

Mischief twinkled in his eyes behind the goggles. Her heart flip-flopped.

What was it about him? From the moment they’d met in elementary school, she was smitten. The boy he once was had adored her, the teenager desired her, and the man… What did he want from her? Sex, a stroll down memory lane, a second chance? God only knew.

Spreading her legs and pointing her ski tips together in a V, she walked up a small slope to the lift. How funny. She was waddling like a walrus.

After a few more sprints down the green circle piste—she’d whipped his butt only once—they followed a trailhead to a blue square run. She veered right, skimming the top edge of a three-feet-wide mogul. Glee jolted through her for bypassing the lump of snow. She mentally fist-pumped the air.

Birley skied ahead of her, several yards away. He swooped to the side, a mogul altering his course.

His laughter echoed as she zipped past him. She glided right, left, and slowed as the ground leveled out. Yes. Victory! The rush quickened her already racing heart.

Birley skidded to a stop beside her. “Congrats. You have amazing balance. Are you sure you haven’t gone skiing lately?” He raised his goggles to the top of his head.

“Thanks. I’ve learned to surf.” She flashed a grin as his eyes widened. “There’s not a big difference between skiing and surfing. All it takes is practice, balance, and coordination.” She plunged the sharp ends of the poles in the snow and stretched from side to side. The muscles in her arms and legs ached, but the burn sharpened her senses.

“How about some granola bars?” Birley bent his arm behind his head, stretching his muscles until an audible pop cracked the air.

She handed him two bars and ripped open a third one. The flavor of raisins and nuts burst on her tongue. Yum. Her stomach gurgled.

Birley devoured the first bar, then attacked the second.

“Wow. You are hungry.” She chuckled as he popped the last bite in his mouth. “I’d kill for some hot chocolate. Let’s do lunch.”

“Sounds good.” He plucked the wrapper from her hand and stuffed the trash into his pants pocket.

They skied to the lodge and left their blades and poles in a storage area. After Birley disposed of their trash in a bin, he leapt a few feet in front of her and opened the door.

She smiled, stuffing her gloves and goggles in her pocket. Warmth surrounded her as she entered the spacious building. Oh yes. She loosened the fuzzy scarf around her neck. Chatter echoed from the dining area. The rich aromas of chocolate, evergreen, and burning logs in the huge stone fireplace doubled the saliva in her mouth.

“Harmony? Is that you?” A blonde woman decked in winter gear paused a few feet away, likely on her way out.

“Yes, I…” Recognition clicked. “Hope Kildaire. Hey, how are you?” She hugged the friend who’d been two years behind her in school.

“I’m great. It’s Coleman now.” Hope pulled back and lifted her hand, flashing a set of rings.

“Congratulations. Who’s the lucky guy? Do I know him?”

“No, I don’t think so. Tyler moved here from New York about two years ago to take over Hobson Drucker’s law practice, and to marry me, of course.”

“Of course.” They shared a chuckle. “I didn’t realize Uncle Stan’s lawyer had retired.”

The old town lawyer had saved Stan’s business more than once. Why fights between drunken patrons led to them suing Stan was beyond her.

Hope turned to Birley. “It’s good you’re here getting some fresh air. I bet you’re pretty busy at the academy since your parents are retiring.”

“Yup, but I’ve got to make more time to hit the slopes. I’m getting out of shape.” He flattened his hand on his abs.

Harmony scoffed and shot Hope a knowing smirk. The crazy man was as fit as a fiddle, but a woman could never be too sure. Before she headed back to Miami, she would cop a feel and lay the question to rest.

Hope laughed, pink infusing her cheeks. “Anyway, I’m no longer an instructor here, but I come to ski as often as I can. You’re back in town for the holidays, right? Is your husband here?”

That cooled the lust coursing hot through Harmony’s veins. “Claude—um—he passed away a while back. We were in the middle of a divorce.”

“Oh my God.” She slapped her hands on her mouth, then pulled Harmony into a hug. “I’m sorry. If you need to talk, I’m here. I know what it’s like to lose a loved one.”

Hope had lost her father in a terrible accident, which crippled her mother. Her offer to talk wasn’t a face-saving deal. The woman was as genuine as they came.

Harmony squeezed Hope, blinking back tears, and let her go. If only she could’ve been around to help her old friend through her bad times. “Thanks. I’m doing all right. But I’d love to get together for lunch, if you’re available.”

“Of course I am.” She whipped her cell phone from her pocket.

Harmony grabbed hers, and they plugged in each other’s numbers.

“Awesome. I’ll call you in a few days. I better go. I’m meeting Tyler for a few runs, so he’ll be looking for me soon.”

They hugged goodbye. After Hope patted Birley on the back in a one-arm hug, she strode from the lodge.

“I want your phone number too.” Birley nodded at her phone.

She bet he did, but she shoved it back in her pocket. “First, food. I’m starving.” She clutched his arm and dragged him to the deli counter.