Page 3 of Snow Drift

"The new cleaner." He slouches casually against the hunter green wallpaper, displaying his tall, muscular frame to perfection. "I remember the last time we were here Mrs. H. wasn't pleased with the cleaner. And yeah, I did see a few dust bunnies the size of tumbleweeds under the bed when I was down there to plug in my phone charger."

My hand flutters over my mouth, feigning shock. "Mystars, sir. There'll be none of that on my watch. If you so much as suspect the beginnings of a dust bunny, I will rush in like a one-woman assassination team."

His rich laugh fills me, sinking into my body. There's something about this man's presence that makes me tingle.

Moore's chin jerks up, and we both sniff the air. "Your coffee is being served," I say, trying to return to my usual quiet, professional tone. "I won't keep you from your breakfast."

He leans close to whisper in my ear. "If I didn't know it would get you in trouble with Mrs. H., I'd invite you to join us."

My lips part as I freeze. How do you respond to that?

"Catch you later, Kallie," he says casually. "Looking forward to getting to know you better."

He walks away down the hall and into the dining room, leaving me with my head spinning and my mouth hanging open.

First off, the way those jeans perfectly hug his ass and thighs…and the way the flannel shirt stretches across his broad back… There should be a warning sign, because I'm not sure my heart can take it.

Second, is it strange that he sounded genuinely interested in me? Logic kicks in immediately. No. He was just making conversation. There are only eight people here at the chalet this week, so we're kind of stuck together. Judging by the ice pellets hitting the windows, we might actually be iced or snowed in for a bit. Normally I'd be nervous at the thought of being trapped here with strange men, but he seems like such a solid, trustworthy guy that he didn't activate my usual fear response at all.

In fact, the jittery way he made me feel triggered a chain reaction of very different feelings. Namely, lust. I've never felt that for a man before.

Sure, there are actors that are quite nice to look at on a screen. A few characters in books that I might be interested in if I met them in person. Yet Moore is the first flesh and blood man who has made my lower belly flutter, my thighs press together, and my heart race.

He touched me casually, as if it were nothing.

But I still feel the echo of his hand on my elbow. I think his touch was the most important thing I've ever felt.

3

MOORE

We've been doing this getaway for so many years, it's become comfortably familiar. Until I met Kallie. Now everything has changed.

As we enjoy our spectacular lunch I try to take part in the guys' chatter, but I'm distracted.

I spent most of yesterday afternoon trying to catch another glimpse of her to no avail. At one point I heard the faint hum of a vacuum cleaner in the distance, but Baz had just launched into a story, and it would have been rude to run off.

Then I tried to run into her at the exact same time this morning as I did yesterday, but she wasn't around. I wonder: how much of a mess would I have to make before someone would call her? I'm kidding, of course.

I think.

After breakfast, Baz and Dylan head to the library, but I hang back. "Just going to walk around for a minute to shake that down," I say casually, patting my stomach. "Back in a few." The guys nod, already settling into their chairs.

I feel like a thief in the night, though it's early afternoon. Once I'm up in the hallway of the guest suites, I close my eyes and listen. Nothing but wind rattling the windows occasionally.

Suddenly I hear a door open down on the main floor. I head down the far stairs that lead toward the sunroom. Kallie is just coming out and closing the door behind her. She turns to me with such a glorious smile that my heart expands. "Not sure you want to go in there. It's not off limits, but it's seriously cold."

"Then why were you in there?"

"Um." Her long lashes drop a bit. "Maybe taking a one-minute break to stare at the snow?"

My face feels stretched from how widely she makes me smile. "You're not sick of the snow by now?" I take the basket from her so that she's not left holding it while we chat.

"I'm from the west coast," she says. "And I usually work in hotels farther south, so snow is a novelty to me. But this place was so nice last year I broke my own rule and came back." Her lips press together, as if she hadn't meant to say that, so I don't pry.

"Are you allowed to stop cleaning if a guest has important questions about the chalet?"

She places one hand on her hip, the other up in the air like a model at a car show. "If you'd like a tour of the glorious, freezing cold sunroom, I would be happy to give you a detailed history."

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