Just One Kiss Read online

  Just One Kiss

  Carole Dean

  Copyright 2011 Carole Dean

  Edna Sheedy writing as Carole Dean

  Original edition published in 1992

  By Meteor Publishing Corporation

  Published by Muse Creations Inc at Smashwords

  www.musecreations.com

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dedication

  Always, Tim.

  And Christine Hazenboom, my first reader.

  Chapter One

  Nikki buzzed with energy. She had to go up again. The snow was perfect. The runs were perfect. It just didn’t get any better than this, and it would be weeks before she could come back. One more run. What could it hurt? She glanced toward the ski lifts—no line up. She would be at the peak in minutes.

  “Nicole Johnson, don’t even think about it. Come back to the chalet with us. You’ve been skiing like a mad woman all day. Besides, it’s going to snow.” Amy looked warily at the deepening gray of the sky, then back to her friend. “Not to mention there’s probably not enough good light for another run.”

  “There’s enough light. If there weren’t, they wouldn’t be operating the lifts. And it’s for sure a little snow won’t hurt. You cream puffs go to the chalet. I’m going back up. Without you to hold me up, I’ll be down in no time,” Nikki teased. “Unless some hardy soul wants to join me.” She tossed one last dare at her three friends and co-workers.

  “I may be a cream puff, but you, Niks, are crazy.” Christy Coburn eyed the small group. “I’m for a hot drink. What about the rest of you?”

  “Sounds good to me. I’m beat.” John Zinnser pulled off his toque and shook it against his leg. As he stuffed it in his pocket, he glanced at Nikki. “Amy’s right, you know. You should call it a day. You didn’t even stop for lunch.”

  “You guys are worse than cream puffs. You’re wimps.” Nikki laughed. “We’ll be locked in meetings for the rest of the weekend. This is the only chance we’ll have to ski.”

  Amy pushed back her hat and loosened the zipper on her jacket. “If you must go, for heaven’s sake, don’t go all the way to the top. You’re hungry and overtired, Nikki. Don’t push yourself.”

  “Yes, Mother. Now run along and put my hot chocolate on. I won’t be long.” Nikki grinned and hurried to the lift.

  Once on the chair, she turned to wave, but John and Christy were on their way to the lodge with its welcoming fireplace and warm drinks, and Amy’s interest was elsewhere. She was talking to a tall, dark-haired man near the lift entrance.

  When Nikki saw him bend to kiss her friend, her curiosity was piqued. Maybe Amy was holding out on her, she thought with a smile, craning for a better look, but Blackcomb’s high speed lift, aptly named the Wizard, had already taken her too far out of range. Before she turned back to look up the mountain, she noticed the man run to catch a chair. She smiled. Another ski nut who can’t resist the mountain. Confident Amy would fill her in on the stranger during apres ski, Nikki settled in for the ride. She had a lot to think about.

  Tomorrow she was slated to make a presentation on behalf of her employer, Kingway Skin Care, to the executive of the company’s new owner, Prisma International—plus a couple of hundred distributors. Jayne Kingway had told her to impress the hell out of them and she intended to do exactly that.

  The takeover by Prisma last month had been a complete surprise. Even though Nikki agreed that the merger made good business sense—Prisma’s cosmetics were, after all, the perfect complement to Kingway skin care products—there would be changes, and that made her edgy. Just thinking about a new boss gave her cramps.

  Since her experience with her former employer in Colorado, she put a high value on a boss who judged her solely on job performance as Jayne did.

  Nikki couldn’t think of that miserable time without seething. She felt shame, too. Shame at being fired and raging anger at the injustice in it.

  Ancient history, she told herself, and let the memory fade. And as for Prisma she’d keep an open mind. Luckily Jayne would be around for the next six months to oversee the transition, making Nikki’s interaction unnecessary.

  Still her stomach lurched at the idea of speaking in front of so many people.

  It helped that Whistler was the meeting site, less than a two hour drive from her home in Vancouver, and to Nikki, who’d skied here often, familiar territory. She was very glad she didn’t have to make the presentation in New York or—worse yet—Prisma’s head office in Madrid.

  A wobble in the smooth ride of the ski lift rocked her chair, distracting her from her thoughts. It righted itself and then, with a sudden abrupt lurch, stopped. Complete silence replaced the metallic purr of the lift, and the chair swung aimlessly from the steel cable.

  “Damn.” Nikki spoke the word aloud.

  She wasn’t nervous, but the sky was getting darker, and she didn’t relish freezing her bones on a teetering ski chair as the light faded further. In February, the winds were cold. She could only hope her blue jumpsuit would do its job. She was glad, too, that she was wearing the warm toque Amy bought her as a joke in one of the local shops. She pulled it tighter around her ears and smiled.

  The hat was ridiculous. With three large pom-poms dangling from its crown, each a violent shade of neon, it was a fashion catastrophe. Its base color was scarlet, a frightful match for her bright russet hair. When Amy dared her to wear it, she’d laughingly complied, knowing it was her friend’s way of telling her to lighten up, stop being such a “serious Sarah” as she’d put it.

  “You okay?” A male voice came from behind her, faint but clear.

  “Fine. Thanks,” she turned and yelled back. She couldn’t see who asked the question. No matter. She didn’t intend to get into a high decibel conversation three thousand feet up a mountain. Best to sit quietly and wait it out. She’d use the time to review tomorrow’s presentation.

  “Better get off at midstation,” the voice rose up to her again. “It looks like we’re going to run out of light.”

  She acknowledged the advice with a wave of her hand but didn’t answer back. She’d make that decision for herself.

  A gust of wind caught her chair from behind and pitched it roughly forward. It stabilized, but for a moment even Nikki’s steely nerves weakened. Then, with a rough jolt, the ski lift started again.

  Nikki sighed in relief as it began its rapid ascent to midstation. She wasn’t wearing her watch, but she guessed about twenty minutes had passed. Most of the skiers ahead of her got off at the next station. Should she? She glanced up the mountain. Still enough light. She would go to the peak.

  Ignoring the lift attendant’s look of disapproval, she switched chairs to carry on. He glanced at the sky and shrugged.

  Alone at the top she savored the solitude, the extravagant beauty and grandeur of the mountain. Blackcomb’s vertical rise was 5,280 feet, one of the highest in North America. Magic Mountain, it was called. Up here, with her head touching the sky, Nikki felt that magic. The altitude gave a feeling of power, a psychological lift that said anything was possible.

  She could have stayed at the peak forever, but she was bold, not foolish, and neither the light nor the weather was in her favor. She pulled down her goggles, pushed a stray strand of hair haphazardly under the rim of her absurd hat, and tucked.

  In second
s she was flying down the mountain.

  In minutes she was piled up at the base of a tall hemlock.

  Chapter Two

  Michael Dorado knelt in the snow beside the girl’s prone figure and couldn’t decide whether to be concerned or annoyed. She was breathing, thank God. Her warm breath on the cold air made that obvious. Damn! Why hadn’t the little idiot got off at midstation when he’d told her to? The lift had been stalled over forty minutes, and it was getting colder and bleaker by the minute. Kids today! They never did what they were told. To top it off, she’d chosen to go through Cougar Chute, an experts-only run and one of the most difficult on the mountain. Good thing he’d followed her.

  He heard the softest of moans as the girl rolled to her back. Relieved, he watched her struggle to consciousness, rubbing a gloved hand across her cheek.

  She was a beauty! A few more years and the men would be taking a number.

  Her hair was a brilliant, vivid red, long and plaited into a braid that rested now across her shoulder. Wild strands of it struggled for release at every twist, as if trying to bristle their way out of confinement. Given the vivid color of her hair, he found himself wondering if her eyes would be blue or green.

  Her skin was clear—the color of pure cream. He removed a ski glove and ran curious knuckles lightly over her cheek. Chilled satin. Such skin would have the cosmetic industry out of business in no time. Noticing a scrape on her forehead, he touched it carefully; it didn’t look serious. He pulled the gloves back on his hands and gave her a slight shake.

  Her eyelashes fluttered. She swallowed and her tongue came out to moisten her lips. Michael watched the play of her tongue. His breath caught in his throat and he swallowed, quickly shifting his gaze to her dark lashes and the half-opened eyes beneath them. It didn’t help. Something about the girl was getting to him.

  What the hell was wrong with him? She was a teenager, for God’s sake. Eighteen tops. Too young for a thirty-seven year old man with a distinct taste for women of experience.

  “Wake up. Can you hear me? Wake up!” His voice was harsher than he intended.

  ***

  Nicole felt strong hands grip her shoulders, then shake her lightly. Forcing her eyes open, her only sensation was of cold, as if someone had tucked her in under an icy sheet. A man bent over her and the only warmth in her body was where his hands held her upper arms.

  She heard her own voice as if from far away. “What happened?” She closed her eyes tightly for a second, obliging them to clear. When her gaze focused, she looked into a pair of unfamiliar, very intense eyes.

  “You took a fall,” he said, “but I don’t think anything is broken. Do you feel any pain?”

  Nicole shifted her body slightly, moved both legs, and wiggled her toes. She sighed with relief. Some aches, yes, but no broken bones.

  “No, I think everything is all in one piece. If you’ll give me a hand up, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  His eyes looked troubled. “You’re sure? That was a pretty tough tumble. You might be suffering from shock.”

  “I’m okay ... really.” She reached out to him.

  His arms were powerful, but it was the gentleness Nicole was conscious of as he helped her carefully to her feet.

  Instantly dizzy, she fought for her balance. A sharp pain arced through her head, followed by a wave of nausea. She braced herself against his chest. Immediately his arms encircled her, held her to him, one steady hand firm against her back. She didn’t move—couldn’t move—afraid the nausea would return.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “Well, what?” Her voice was the barest murmur.

  “Are you going to be okay, or are you going to lean on me for the rest of the night?” She sensed he was smiling. “Not that I mind, you understand.” He patted her back, the motion awkward and uneven, as if she were a child and he a distant uncle.

  She was clinging to him, she realized, and quickly stepped back. Too quickly. The pain in her head thundered back. She grimaced but ignored it.

  “Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t hurt anywhere?” he asked again.

  She looked up to dark-green eyes, boring into hers as if on a truth-seeking mission. The pain in her head momentarily forgotten, Nikki was struck by their unusual shade. The color of cedar boughs with a glint of gold.

  “A bit of a headache. Nothing serious. I need a minute to catch my breath and I’ll be fine.” She tried a smile.

  Even through the pain in her head, she could see her rescuer was a ruinously attractive man. She made note of the even white teeth and solid jaw, the slight but sensuous fullness of his lower lip. His face was angular, framed by straight ebony hair that grazed the collar of his ski jacket. Nikki guessed the hair was unruly. He wore a headband. Amber goggles rested above it. There was something vaguely out of place about him, a certain male elegance uncommon on the West Coast. It was in the cut and style of his ski clothes. European maybe, definitely not local. There was a hint of an accent too. She couldn’t place it.

  Bending to pick up one of his ski poles, he seemed unaware of her scrutiny. Nikki figured with looks like his he was probably accustomed to being ogled. She followed his lead, bending—carefully—to pick up her poles. When she straightened up, he glared at her.

  “You know, you really should have got off at midstation as I told you. You don’t have the experience for this mountain—or this run. Cougar Chute is marked for experts only.”

  The condescension in his tone brought a crashing end to her flattering appraisal and instantly galled her. Long on looks, maybe, but short on charm. Being put down by a total stranger wasn’t high on her list of favorite pastimes. And she was an excellent skier, had even done some downhill racing in Colorado. Just who the hell did he think he was anyway? But he had been helpful, so she reined in her temper.

  “Look, thanks for your help,” she said, her voice cool and as deliberately curt as she could make it. “I appreciate it, but I think I can manage from here.”

  She wasn’t sure she could manage at all. Her head pounded as though it were a hoop and a team of street kids were tossing basketballs at it, the nausea persisted, and it was a long way to base and the shelter of the chalet.

  She steadied her poles and attempted to step into her skis with as little show of discomfort as possible. But when she tugged her goggles down, she winced. She touched the sore spot gingerly.

  “Let me see that,” he demanded.

  He lifted her hand from her forehead, then removed his glove, moving closer to see in the fading light. He examined the damaged skin with a light touch, stroking her brow softly before moving cautious fingers upward to her hairline. His probing fingers found their target.

  “Ouch!”

  Quickly, he pulled his hand away. “You have the start of a mean goose egg, little lady, and that wipeout of yours has drawn blood. Fortunately, the cold is slowing its flow. You may even have a slight concussion, though by the looks of you, I doubt it. We should get moving. Do you think you can make it to the next station?”

  Even through the pain in her head, Nikki was annoyed. It had been a while since anyone referred to her as “little lady.” She was twenty-seven years old, for heaven’s sake, a sales manager for a now-international company. Maybe she looked young for her age, particularly in ski gear, but she didn’t look juvenile enough to be taken charge of by a man not more than thirty-five at the outside. She might be grateful for his help, but not grateful enough to play the helpless female for one more moment.

  “Look, Mr. ... whoever-you-are—”

  “Mic—” He started to introduce himself.

  She lifted a hand. “I’m not interested in knowing your name or anything else about you. I’m interested in your accepting my thanks for your help and leaving me to go on my way. I can make it on my own from here.” Nikki crunched her ski poles solidly into the frozen snow and looked around for her hat.

  “Not a chance. I’ll ski with you to get some help. I want to be sure that cu
t is looked at. As for your being capable of making it on your own, that’s open for debate. You haven’t done too well so far, I’ve noticed. I’m not about to ski off into the night only to wake tomorrow to news that a girl was found frozen four thousand feet up this mountain.”

  Nikki swung about to look at him. The hard set of his jaw told her arguing would be pointless. Great!

  “Fine. Suit yourself,” she said. She’d just have to out ski him. She had no intention of stopping for first aid. She had work to do.

  Nikki spotted her missing toque and bent to retrieve it. The act brought another surge of nausea. A quick shake and the hat was on her head, drawn down to fit closely over her chilled ears. She felt his eyes on her and looked up. His mouth twisted into a grin. He looked first at her and then to the top of her head.

  “Interesting hat,” he said.

  For a fraction of a second, she felt foolish. She’d forgotten how ludicrous the hat looked. Not that she was about to explain how she came by it.

  “I like it,” she replied, lifting her chin.

  She shoved off and rapidly gained speed. She glanced back to enjoy the surprise on his face. Caught off guard, he pushed himself to catch up. In seconds they were skiing side by side down the broad white mountain.

  As they approached the next station, Nikki’s head felt as if it were going to explode, but she was determined to stick to her plan and go for the base.

  To her chagrin he kept up with her. He was a superlative skier. It would be easier if he weren’t.

  Nicole drove herself to pass him and succeeded long enough to fly by the station. She’d make it yet. As if he’d read her mind, the man skiing at her side increased his own speed, swooped in front of her, and began skiing back and forth in her path, forcing her to a full stop.

  She was livid.

  “That’s better.” He spoke with irritating self-assurance. “You’re one stubborn little lady, aren’t you? You can’t seriously propose to ski all the way to base after a fall like that. Did it ever occur to you that the ski patrol has better things to do than go out in the dark merely to dig you out of a snow bank—a skier who’s obviously skied enough to know better?”