Page 1 of Frostbite

Chapter One

January 21

Bethany Phillips awoke with a sense of displacement. Shadows and shapes of the unfamiliar surrounded her. The haze of sleep still thick, she struggled to bring her mental calendar to the forefront of her mind.

Where was she? Memphis? No, that was last week. Chicago? Uh-uh, two days ago. New York? They’d checked out that morning.

This was Colorado. Her mouth pulled down in a grimace. The retreat.

Gut-wrenching memories of their SUV’s ice-slicked ascent up the blustery mountainside turned her stomach once again and renewed her frustration over the absurdity of the Interpersonal Skills retreat. Such a waste of time and resources.

She sat upright, smoothed the hair from her face, and blinked the sleep from her eyes. The wool slacks she wore itched and she scowled at her failure to retrieve her bag before the driver raced off to pick up the retreat coach and the rest of their team.

The digital clock next to the bed read 1 a.m. The car should have been back with everyone by now, and the chances she slept through the team’s arrival were slim. Which meant she’d either been drugged into a coma or she was about to be sorely disappointed. There was only one way to find out.

A lone beam of light shone past her door from the front of the cabin. She walked through the softly lit hall, the smell of cinnamon and cloves mixed with evergreen in the air. Motivational posters promoting teamwork, persistence, and pride, decorated the rough log walls. The message seemed to say, Relax, but not too much. In the main lounge, Ryan Chase, her sales partner, and the only other person within the walls of the log-cabin-fashioned corporate retreat, stood in front of a wide, picture window, staring out at the falling snow.

Her steps stalled, and her mouth went dry at the sight of him. She’d seen Ryan in thousand dollar suits, seen him groomed to a T in tailored tuxedos, seen him emerge victorious from thirteen-hour negations with his collar open and silk tie askew. But never had she seen him as enticing as this, dressed simply in a pair of black track pants and white T-shirt that left little of his athletic build to the imagination.

Knowing what he slept in sent a shock of thrill through her. Dangerous thinking for a woman whose plan didn’t include romance. Especially when it was about a man she didn’t trust.

To her utter consternation, Jared Fikes, her boss and the president of Tracestone Corp, had gotten it into his head that Bethany and Ryan were a perfect team. That their opposing styles complemented each other. That together, they brought the whole package. Thus, she’d been shackled to him for the past six months.

But, along with being her partner, Ryan was her main competition in the scramble for the next rung on the ladder to the top. He was slick and smooth, her opposite in every way except success. She was a numbers girl, plain and simple. She used data; he used intuition. She was all business; he was always bringing pleasure into the game. Ryan talked about feelings and senses, which translated to risks and gambles in her book. As successful as he’d been, the way she saw it, he lived on luck, and luck didn’t last forever.

But then, neither would working with Ryan.

He was a man with a propensity to hop jobs, and he’d already been with the company eighteen months. As far as she was concerned, his next jump was only a matter of time. And that was fine. It meant she wouldn’t have to compete with him much longer. Wouldn’t have his incredible eye-candy appeal to distract her. Wouldn’t have to worry about what kind of coup he might be planning in all those closed-door sessions with Jared. The sooner he was gone, the better.

So what was she doing with her gaze tracking over his powerful frame…ogling him?

She forced her mind away from the cotton stretched across the broad expanse of his well-muscled back and the hug of his pants over his butt, and tried to sound casual, flippant. Sound like she hadn’t just stood there and devoured the sight of him.

“Jesus,” she groaned, worrying the silk knot of her cuff button. “Whose idea was this? A retreat? Who does that? We’re not marketing granola, for crissakes.”

He rubbed the top of his head with rough strokes. It was one of those signature Ryan moves that at times made him seem very boyish, though she knew he was thirty-six. And the result, disheveled spikes of dark hair that stood on end, only added to his appeal.

“Lighten up, Beth.” He turned his gray-blue eyes to meet hers, a patient smile set across his stubbled face.

She blinked and peered up to the exposed beams of the vaulted ceiling. “Sorry.”

With a shrug, he let it pass as he always did. “I thought you might sleep through. Looks like the others didn’t beat the storm, though, so I’d guess we’re on our own for tonight at least.”

On their own? Suddenly, the spacious lodge seemed cramped and stuffy. “Fantastic.” She spent nearly every day with this man. So what was the problem with one more night?

The problem was that it was just the two of them. Ryan was the last man she wanted to be alone with. Really alone with. Their work required extensive travel together. They took cabs, planes, and elevators together, but there were always other people around. She liked it that way. It was easier to maintain her professionalism. At this stage in her life, her job was the most important priority. The problem with being totally, completely alone with him was that her mind wandered to places it shouldn’t go. Places that didn’t revolve around career.

Ryan rolled his eyes at her less-than-enthusiastic response. “You don’t have to make it sound like such torture.”

The blood drained from her face, and she squeezed her eyes shut. God, why did she always sound like such a bitch when she talked to him?

“Come on, Beth. It’s not like I’m going to break out a guitar or cue up the family’s Grand Canyon slide show.”

Thank God for that. She let out a hideous little snort, which made her cheeks flame in embarrassment.

There it was again! He always made her laugh, said exactly the right thing. How infuriating to spend nearly every waking moment with a man so at ease and confident in every situation. He was an operator, and she didn’t trust him.

Which was precisely the reason to keep her mind out of his pants, and why working with him bothered her so much.

A guy that smooth could hide behind his charm. Her eyes narrowed. He could be plotting anything.

Reaching over, he ran his thumb under her elbow. “Sorry about your bag. If I’d known the driver would head out so fast, I’d have grabbed it.”

Plotting? God, she was an idiot. He was obviously trying to be nice. But when she looked down to where his hand met her arm, the breach of her personal space disconcerted her more than the idea of being snowed by a hustler or trapped for a year without her toothbrush.

The warmth of his touch on her arm set off a chain reaction of lust, anxiety, and frustration that roiled through her system and left her stomach wound in knots like macramé.

“D

on’t worry about it, Ryan. I should have gotten them. Besides, it’s one night. I’ll live without my nightgown.” Damn, that touch sent her mind straight to sleeping nude. And not alone either.

It was asinine to think of him in any regard other than professional. He was too slick even without his physical appeal added in the mix, but right now she didn’t want to think about all the reasons he got under her skin at work. Right now, he wasn’t smooth-talking, selling, or charming the pants off anyone. He was watching their small world swirl beyond the glass, and she liked watching him do it.

The silence hung thick between them as heavy flakes streaked by, obscuring the view beyond the trees a few yards from the cabin.

Ryan should have known better than to touch her. She’d stiffened up the second his hand grazed her arm. When she’d come down the hall, all rumpled and sexy, fresh out of bed, and he’d caught the reflection of her watching him, he’d lost the perspective to stay professional. Forgotten what he’d hoped to accomplish on this retreat. It was the first time he’d sensed even an iota of potential interest from her, and his mind reeled.

Getting her alone was a stroke of luck, but now that he’d seen the way she’d looked at him, all he could think of was seeing it again.

No, he needed to talk to her about his plans, feel her out about the possibility of change. He needed her to relax. To trust him.

He cocked his head toward the glass and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Her smile eased into that gorgeous, soft curve she so reluctantly offered. The one he was eternally trying to earn.

“Beautiful? Yes, it is. How long’s it been coming down like this?”

He stared at the falling snow so he wouldn’t stare at her, and considered. “Maybe five hours now? I would have checked the weather station, but it seems this retreat isn’t about TV. We’re a little out of touch right now.”

She rolled her eyes. “God, whose idea was this?”

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