Page 1 of Brooding Mountain Man

1

GEORGIA

Aman was sleeping on the couch in the lobby of the Seduction Summit Ski Lodge. I came to a stop just inside the door and stared, not sure what to make of what I was seeing.

Nothing should surprise me at this point. This ski lodge, where I’d worked since graduating high school five years ago, had become a construction zone sometime around August. It was now early January, and every guest room was booked. My guess was this guy came in last night and the clerk told him there were no rooms, so he’d camped out here.

I cleared my throat, but the guy didn’t stir. I couldn’t see his face, just the back of his head. He had dark hair and wore a buffalo plaid flannel shirt with a pair of jeans. He was sleeping with his face toward the back of the sofa next to the fireplace, which hadn’t been turned on yet.

When clearing my throat didn’t work, I considered going back behind the desk and making noise. But if this guy was a heavy sleeper, that wouldn’t work. No, I had to walk over to him and wake him up.

I pulled my phone out of my coat pocket and unlocked it. I could call my boss, Alex, but he’d been working his butt off lately. I hated to interrupt him this early. He counted on me to take care of things when he wasn’t around. I should handle this myself.

Sighing, I slid the phone back into my pocket and continued walking, stopping just a few feet away from the sleeper. He was huge. That much was clear. It looked like he was all muscle. I was hardly some hundred-pound waif-like supermodel, but someone that muscular could lift me with one arm and little effort.

I cleared my throat again, hoping being closer might pull him out of his slumber. He still didn’t budge.

With another sigh, I looked around, crossing my arms over my chest protectively. The lobby was completely empty—not a sign anyone had even been here recently. It was just me and this sleeping, hulking stranger.

“Excuse me,” I said, loud enough for someone all the way at the elevators to hear.

Still no movement. Crap. Was I going to have to actually touch the guy? The thought should terrify me—or, at the very least, give me a case of the icks—but oddly, it excited me. I wanted to see what that solid wall of back and arm felt like.

I looked back over my shoulder, again confirming we were still alone, before turning back toward him. Instead of reaching out with my hand, I lifted one sneaker-covered foot and gently tapped his lower back with my toe.

That was when things went from zero to a hundred. He not only flipped over, but he was on his feet in seconds, hands fisted at his side. He looked everywhere but at me as I stared at him.

Holy cow. This guy was hot. He was like something out of a movie—or off a billboard. Chiseled jaw, steely blue eyes, a strong nose, and full, utterly kissable lips. I couldn’t stop staring.

His disoriented gaze settled on me, and he narrowed his eyes, then scanned the length of me, taking me in like guys usually did. My curves strained the fabric of the khakis we were forced to wear as part of the Seduction Summit Lodge uniform. He was no doubt noting my double-F chest and the hips my mom always said meant I was born for childbirth. She said it was a good thing, and men were biologically programmed to look for that.

If that was the case, why did it seem like my super-skinny friends had no trouble landing guys, while all men seemed to want from me was sex? When they found out I was a virgin, that was usually the end of the road.

“You’re sleeping in the lobby of a ski lodge,” I pointed out, just in case he wasn’t sure what was going on.

His eyes returned to my face, but they were still narrowed. That was when it became clear his confusion wasn’t sleep disorientation. He truly had no idea what was going on.

“The Seduction Summit Lodge,” I said. “It’s ski season. Well, technically, the slopes don’t really get busy for a few days, but skiiers are flooding into town, anyway. We did have some guests during Christmas, but this is when the big part of it starts.”

Why was I babbling? The more he stared at me, the more nervous it made me. I’d never in all my life seen anyone this gorgeous, even on TV, but as handsome as he was, he also exuded masculinity. I’d bet my paycheck he didn’t even think about how he looked.

“You work here?” he asked.

His gaze lowered to my chest. It took me a second to piece together that he was eyeing the logo on my shirt, not my breasts.

“I’m the day clerk,” I said, pointing toward the front desk. “I guess the night clerk was fine with you sleeping here?”

He looked in that direction, his brow furrowing. “Night clerk?”

“The guy who was behind the desk when you got here.”

He was shaking his head before I reached the end of that sentence. Suddenly, I had a sinking feeling. Christopher had finally done it. He’d walked out on the job—if he’d shown up at all.

“There was nobody here when I came in last night.” He glanced toward the desk before returning his attention to me. “Granted, I got in pretty late. It was after midnight. Guy who owns this place told me there’d be a room for me, but I didn’t get his phone number?—”

“So you slept on the couch,” I finished for him.

He shrugged. “No other choice.”

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