“Wow,” she breathed.
“Quite the view, isn’t it?” asked Brandon, stepping up beside her. He sucked in a lungful of brisk mountain air and let it out with a sound of utter contentment.
“It is that,” Isabelle murmured, looking up at him from the corner of her eye. What the hell am I doing here?
Brandon dragged the snow tube into position at the top of the slope and held it steady. “You want front or back?”
Isabelle hesitated. It was a long way to the bottom. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the idea of hurtling down the slope at high speeds. She’d thought the trail would be all straight and pretty and groomed. The ground under that snow wasn’t exactly forgiving if they crashed. At least with water you sank in. And there were trees off to the side. What if they ran into one? It wasn’t like you could steer an inner tube. She supposed you’d see it coming and could roll off. But was that safe? How fast could an inner tube go anyway?
“There’s no way back but down,” he pointed out.
“Not true. If you lose your skis and drag off to the side and look pathetic, the ski patrol will eventually come and get you.” Which was what had happened the one time Leah had gotten her anywhere but the bunny slopes. “There’s a reason I don’t ski.”
Brandon didn’t laugh. “Fair enough. But as we have established, this isn’t skiing. It’s perfectly safe. You held on just fine on the way up.”
“We were going slow on the way up,” she grumbled. And he’d distracted her with good conversation.
Brandon crouched to point out the handles again, then looked back at her and held out a hand. “Trust me, Isabelle.”
Isabelle thought foolishly of Aladdin and his magic carpet. He had that kind of open, friendly face, which was probably how he’d talked her into this in the first place. At least this is on the ground.
She placed her hand in his, feeling his gloved fingers curve firmly around hers. The connection simultaneously steadied her and made her nerves jump. He had big hands. They were careful as he helped settle her behind him on the snow tube, and she was almost sorry when he let go.
“Ready?” asked Brandon.
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Hold on!”
Isabelle thought fleetingly of holding on to him. He was big and solid and so damned appealing. And she barely knew him. Quickly, she curled her hands around the rear set of handles as he shoved off.
The wind fluttered her hair as they started their descent. This wasn’t so bad. Nice and easy. Pleasant, even.
Then they hit a steeper grade and began to pick up speed. Isabelle’s hair whipped back and her eyes began to sting. She didn’t feel entirely stable on the back end of the tube as they skittered over some bumps in the snow. Her hands fisted tighter around the handles even as Brandon whooped.
“Brace yourself! Got a little drop coming.”
They caught air. Isabelle didn’t know how, couldn’t see past Brandon’s bigger body, but she felt it in the sudden loss of friction beneath them. Then they landed with a jarring thud, and she was throwing her arms around his waist and hanging on for dear life. That shifted the balance, and the back end of the inner tube swung around so they were racing sideways down the slope.
Brandon’s arms clamped down tight over hers as they began to spin. Faster and faster. Isabelle saw a blur of trees and pressed her face against his back. He was shaking. No, he was…laughing. Great whoops of laugher.
“You’re crazy!” she shouted.
“Live a little!” he called back, but his laughter was interrupted by another huge jolt.
Isabelle felt her arms break free of his grip and she went flying.
~*~
They landed in a snowbank, a tangle of limbs. Brandon’s face was pressed half in the snow, half against her hair. It smelled like vanilla. Aware he was crushing her, he scrambled, trying to get enough purchase to get off her. He succeeded only in straddling her body, knees on either side of her hips. She was shaking. God, she’d been so anxious about the whole thing, and here they’d crashed. She was probably freaked out. Pushing up with both hands, he asked, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
Isabelle sucked in a good breath…and began to laugh.
Brandon stopped moving, too caught up in the delighted curve of her mouth and the humor sparking in those gorgeous brown eyes. The smile transformed her serious face into something that hit him low in the gut. I am in serious trouble, he thought.
Breath still hitching with helpless giggles, Isabelle said, “You look like the abominable snowman.” She reached up and proceeded to brush a substantial pile of snow from his head and the right side of his face.
It didn’t matter that she wore mittens. It might as well have been warm fingers against his cheek for all Brandon ceased to feel the the cold.
That mouth. God, he wanted to taste her. He dragged his gaze from her lips back to her eyes. Awareness swam into them, her pupils springing wide. She stopped laughing. Her hand slid from his cheek to his shoulder but didn’t push him away. Brandon held very still, enjoying the sense of expectation as the moment spun out, his heart starting to gallop. Eyes open and focused on hers, he started to lower. Isabelle gave a quick, involuntary hitch of breath, parting her lips.
Using the tension in his braced muscles, Brandon shoved up, managing to get one foot under him enough to rise. Better to keep her guessing, keep her off balance. He had a fleeting moment to see confusion flash across her face before he let himself topple like a tree into the snow behind him. Isabelle’s unsteady breath had him fighting a smile. Mission accomplished.
To give her a moment to settle and cool his own unexpected arousal, he moved his limbs in a wide arc.
“What on earth are you doing?” she asked.
“Making a snow angel.” When she said nothing, he lifted his head to find her half sitting up in the snow bank looking puzzled. “Haven’t you ever made a snow angel before?”
“We didn’t exactly have an abundance of white stuff in the panhandle.”
“That’s just tragic,” said Brandon sitting up. “Come on. You’re already covered in snow. Might as well correct that serious oversight in your childhood education.”
She shot him another of those mildly exasperated smiles. “You’re a funny guy, Brandon.”
“I do try. C’mon.”
Despite her Very Serious Grownup attitude, she flopped down a few feet away in the snow and proceeded to make her snow angel. He liked that about her. He found he liked a great many things about her and said a brief, silent prayer of thanks that Travis had bailed.
“Let’s get you up before your jeans soak through,” he said. Pulling her up was easy. Tucking her against his side to study her efforts was easier, and the arm she slipped around his waist was progress, payment for denying himself that kiss.
“A perfect first attempt,” he pronounced.
“Even a workaholic can learn new tricks.”
“You’re a good student.”
“Leah would argue with you on that. She says I work too hard, too much.”
Brandon released her and went to retrieve the snow tube. “I say that about Travis all the time.”
“But does he truly love what he does? Like truly, passionately love it?” Isabelle asked.
He considered the question. “I don’t know. I know I didn’t.”
“I do. I mean, seriously, I have the best job in the world. I get to read all the time. I get first look at all kinds of fabulous books and get to work with some of the most creative minds in the field. If I work all the time, it’s because I enjoy it.” Brandon could see the truth of it glinting in her eyes, in the animated gestures of her hands as she spoke.
“That is a great and powerful gift, something that most people never get. Most folks end up working something just for a paycheck, not because it’s their passion.”
“Is that why you’re an ex?” she asked.
“What?”
“Earlier, you said you were an ex-l
awyer.”
“Oh, well, that’s a story.”
“I’ve got time,” said Isabelle. She looked at the flat expanse of snow in front of them. “I don’t have a lot of experience at this, but I’m guessing we’ll have to walk a bit before we get to enough incline to get going again.”
Brandon tipped his head in acknowledgment and began to pick his way back toward the slope. “I figured I’d be a great lawyer,” he began. Because she was close and he wanted to keep her there, he grabbed her hand with his free one and swung it companionably between them. “I’ve got a competitive streak a mile wide—Travis will tell you. We’ve been one-upping each other since high school. And as you already know, I’m naturally persuasive.”
“Oh, obviously,” she said, smirking.
“Travis and I went through together, and I did great in school. School’s just another competition to get to the top. And I always wanted to be at the top. Then I got out.”
“Rude awakening?” She said it with the kind of rueful smile that suggested she’d had one of her own.
“You could say that.”
“Did you find out you were actually a little fish in a really big ocean?”
“No, though I guess there was some of that. I was…disillusioned. The law isn’t about truth or justice, and it’s not even about what’s right. Turns out I care a lot more about those things than winning. It’s a broken system, and certainly it’s better than nothing, but it isn’t what I wanted—what I needed it to be, and I didn’t like who it made me. So I got out. Travis went on to pursue partnership in a prestigious firm, and I struck out on my own in a totally new field.”
“Do you like graphic design?”
“I do,” he said. “I kind of fell into it. I’ve always been something of a tech geek. I love playing with new software. When I found myself at loose ends, a friend asked me to design some stuff for her new business. She loved the concepts I had and recommended me to someone else, and it kind of went down the chain until it just made sense to formalize it. I like the freedom and creativity of it, and the fact that apart from making the client happy, there’s no right or wrong, no value judgment.”
“Do you miss the competition?”
“Oh there’s still competition. Awards to be won, accounts to bid on… And there are plenty of other pluses.”
“Such as?”
“There’s no dress code and the schedule is pretty awesome.”
“Sounds like a win on all counts.”
“That awesome schedule meant I was here to hang out with you, so I’d say yes, definite win.”
“Even though you wanted to hang out with Travis?”
“I think Fate is a helluva lot smarter than I am,” he said.
Isabelle laughed. “You are a charmer.”
“I try,” he said, with faux modesty. They reached the incline again. “So, are you willing to brave the slopes again or are you done with snow tubing for the day?”
“I’m game to try again. But this time, I’m riding in front.”
~*~
“Sure you don’t want another run?” asked Brandon.
“Not without ski pants,” said Isabelle. “I stopped feeling my butt two runs back.”
He tipped his head to check out her behind. “Still there, still pretty damned perfect. But hot beverage station it is. And some food. I could eat a moose. Let me just turn this thing in.”
She waited while he walked to the equipment hut to return the snow tube. It had been an unexpectedly fabulous morning with a wholly unexpected guy. She kept thinking she had him pegged, then he’d say or do something to turn her assumptions on their ears.
Well, they do have that saying about assuming, she mused.
Being wrong had never been so appealing. Except for that almost kiss. She’d been certain he was going to do it, and she’d welcomed it. There was no question he was interested. But he’d pulled back. God, how she wished he hadn’t. But perhaps another opportunity would present itself before the day was through.
Brandon started to turn from the equipment window. A snowball smacked him in the back. “Hey!” He whirled around, a mock stern expression fixed on her.
Isabelle opened her hands to show innocence and looked in the direction the missile had come from. A quartet of kids, maybe nine or ten years old were running, shrieking, and lobbing more snowballs at each other. One of them, a boy in a bright yellow jacket and a black beanie was doing his best to pretend he wasn’t involved.
She crossed to Brandon, keeping an eye on Yellow Jacket. “I think we can take them.”
He send her a sideways glance. “Is your aim decent beyond six feet?”
“Ten years of summer league softball. What I lack in speed and force, I make up for with accuracy.”
“In that case, I like the way you think.” He bent and scooped up snow. “Hey kid!”
Yellow Jacket turned just in time for the snowball to splat against his shoulder. His stunned surprise gave way to a grin as he rallied his friends to the cause. Within moments Isabelle and Brandon were engaged in an all out war. They took cover behind a trash can, gathering ammo and launching it toward the enemy. Outnumbered, they took as many shots as they made, but they were laughing, cat calling as they did it.
When the barrage stopped, Isabelle hunkered down behind their makeshift bunker for a powwow. “Do you think it’s safe?”
Brandon dared a peek. “They’re gathered behind that drift over there. Pretty sure they’re stockpiling ammo.”
“What’s the plan?”
“This thing isn’t great cover. If we can sneak around to that other snowdrift, we could circle around behind them. They’d be sitting ducks.”
“There’s no cover for covert approach. You’ll have to run for it.”
“True enough.”
“You go first,” she said.
“Fine, fine. My plan. I’m the man and all that.” He darted in, brushed a lightning fast kiss across her cheek. “For luck.” Then he made a break for it.
The fresh volley of snowballs started immediately, pelting him from head to toe until he stumbled—entirely on purpose, she was certain—into the snowbank and adopted a posture of defeat. Unwilling to abandon her comrade in arms, Isabelle followed, enduring the bombardment against back, shoulders, and legs until she too collapsed into the snowbank. At least, that had been her intention.
Brandon snagged her on the way down so she fell on top of him instead. “Imagine meeting you here,” he said, hooking his arms around her waist.
“Hi,” she said softly. She imagined she felt the heat of his body through all their layers of clothes.
His gray eyes twinkled with amusement. Isabelle’s gaze zeroed in on his mouth, curved in amusement. Looked like that second opportunity was going to present itself after all.
Hallelujah.
“Isabelle!”
The voice filtered through, a dim, distant irritation. At first she thought she imagined it, but the call came again, distracting her from the lure of Brandon’s mouth. She lifted her head and caught sight of Leah.
Of course, she shows up now.
Swearing silently, Isabelle scrambled up. Away from Brandon’s warmth, she shivered almost immediately. Or maybe that was the intense, focused expression on his face as he took her hand and let her tug him to his feet. As soon as he was vertical, she started to pull away, but he tightened his grip on her hand.
A snowball hit him in the back and he shot a smile at the kids. “Cease fire, guys!”
Leah and Grant carved their way to a quick stop beside them in a tandem move that looked choreographed. “I just got your texts! I’m so sorry!”
I’m not, thought Isabelle.
“No, it’s fine, I…” Isabelle looked up at Brandon, feeling a faint frisson of panic when he refused to release her hand. “Um, this is Brandon. Brandon, Leah. And her date Grant.”
Brandon nodded hello as Leah’s gaze swept him from head to toe, lingering on their joined hands. Her mouth
quirked in amused speculation.
“And how did this,” Leah waved a hand to encompass their joined hands, “happen?”
“There was an incident with a snowball,” she explained.
Leah waited for further elaboration, but Isabelle offered none. She knew perfectly well she’d be grilled later and preferred that to happen in private.
“Well,” she said, “looks like you ended up taking something of a snow day after all.”
“It seemed a better alternative to freezing my butt off while waiting for you,” said Isabelle.
“She’ll do a lot if she’s bribed with hot beverages,” said Brandon.
Leah lifted a perfectly manicured brow.
“Snow tubing,” Isabelle hurried to say, blood rushing into her cheeks.
Her friend beamed at Brandon in approval. “Excellent. Maybe I should strand you at a ski resort more often.”
And just like that, all the deadlines and manuscripts and piles of work she’d blown off came crashing back into her mind. “Just so that you don’t continue to do so today…the keys?” asked Isabelle.
“Right.” Leah tugged off a glove, dug them out of her coat, and handed them over.
Isabelle looked from Leah to Grant and back again. “So you two are good?”
They exchanged delighted smiles. “We’re great,” said Leah. “Grant will drop me home later.”
Given the waves of chemistry pulsing off them, Isabelle suspected it would be much, much later. Good for you, girl.
“Okay, well, have fun. Thanks for bringing back the keys.”
“Sorry about the mix-up.” Leah shot a look at Brandon. “Or maybe not. See you later.” With a wave, she and Grant shoved off and headed back toward the lift.
Isabelle stared after them a lot longer than necessary to avoid looking at Brandon. The snowball fight had fallen apart, the kids wandering off to other pursuits. Whatever ease they’d found with each other over the last few hours had vanished. She half wished he’d tackle her into the snow bank or lob another snowball to startle her out of workaholic mode again, but he made no move to do either as she turned to him.