Page 2 of Knife to the Heart

“I told you, my name is Rosalie.” She wasn’t a nickname kind of girl, more of a title type. She still got a thrill when she heard special agent before her name.

“Rosalie. Got it.” He tugged his gloves off. “I’m Cannon.”

“Cannon.” She let the unusual name roll around her tongue as they released their bindings. “Sounds strong.”

“My parents thought so. It was my mother’s family name.” He stood. Grabbing their boards, he secured them on a nearby rack.

“That’s sweet. I’m named after my father’s favorite flower.” She bit her lower lip.Why did I share that?She rarely talked about her dad.

She scanned the crowd. The snowboarders and skiers sliding and shuffling by didn’t seem to pose any threats, but vigilance should never take a vacation.

“I like roses too.” Cannon stood and offered his hand. A look that could melt snow said he liked more than her name. “Guess I owe you a coffee for barely beating me.”

“I’ll give you the barely part.” She placed her hand in his warm palm and rose to her feet. “It’s too nice to sit indoors. I’ll snag a table on the deck.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he studied her. “So you like the cold, had the confidence to challenge me to a race, and beat me on my turf? I think you might be my perfect woman, Snow Angel.”

A warm shiver zinged through her body. “I’m flattered, but I don’t have time to be anybody’s perfect anything. I’m only here for a couple of days.” After her cousin’s engagement party tomorrow, she’d head back to Denver.

“Well, that works out well because it’s my last responsibility-free day for a long time.”

His smile didn’t hide the catch in his voice.

Seemed she wasn’t the only one seeking a short-lived peace on the mountain. She waved her hand toward the glittering slopes. “Let’s not waste sunshine and fresh powder. How about we get that coffee and then I’ll give you a chance to try and beat me?”

“Hot chocolate for me.” He backed up, a cocky grin on his face. “I don’t need a shot of caffeine to beat you.”

She watched him weave his way to the snack bar and considered trailing him on their next run. Losing would be worth the spectacular view. Tearing down a mountain and flirting with an attractive man really warmed things up on a February morning. Just how hot would the day get if Cannon really did have a cabin tucked away in the forest?

Her father had always said good agents followed orders and trusted their guts. Well, she had orders from her boss to have fun and forget about her quest to catch a killer. Her gut told her that Cannon was a good guy. Other parts of her body told her he’d be a thrill—on and off the slopes.

TWO

Cannon caught the snowball in midair and gaped at the stunning daredevil. “We agreed the grand champion for the day was best out of five runs. Wipe that pout off your face and congratulate the winner.”

Rosalie leaned her board against the fence on the side of the lodge. “I don’t like to lose.”

“I don’t doubt that for a minute.” She’d tackled each run, from the long, relaxing trails to the death-defying double blacks, with steely focus. He, on the other hand, had nearly tumbled when she’d zoomed past him and shot a wave over her shoulder. Her confident smirk had been sexy as hell, and so had her pout when he’d taken the lead again.

Finally, they were alone. Now that the sun had fallen, the families had gone to their rentals. The younger crowd was hitting the lodge’s bar. Rosalie looked like she should be partying with the latter category. Her flawless olive complexion and chestnut-brown hair, pulled back in a ponytail that fell in a straight, thick mass past her shoulders, made her look like a college girl. She’d said she was thirty, twelve years his junior and had teased him about being a dirty old man when she’d caught him staring at her ass.

She toyed with the zipper on his pullover. “Congratulations on your win.”

“Thanks.” He glanced down at her long, slender fingers. Like him, she too had snuck casual touches during the day: A steadying grip when a kamikaze kid had skidded into her, a brush of pine needles out of his hair. This touch, however, seemed anything but casual.

She edged his zipper up, tooth by tooth. “It’s not every day I meet someone who can keep up with me. Not bad for an old guy.”

He checked a groan. Gracious and confident—and snarky—had never looked so appealing.

Gold flecks in her amber-colored eyes that seemed to hold wisdom beyond her years danced in the moonlight. The way she periodically examined the surrounding area, as if expecting someone to jump out and scare her, intrigued him. She’d said she worked in law enforcement and didn’t want to talk about her job, but that hadn’t stopped him from thinking about her in a police uniform… in a tight skirt questioning a suspect… or in a black suit and red lipstick like a sultry undercover agent.

He’d let her cuff him in a heartbeat.

Right now, he wanted to ask questions. Lots. As an ER doctor and the CEO of Red Snow Hospital, he’d been trained to recognize problems and treat them. He didn’t pry, though. Asking questions meant talking about his work. Why ruin a beautiful day with an exciting woman discussing his burdens—no, life-or-death responsibilities that sometimes felt like the weight of the world?

He knew that whatever was troubling her wasn’t relenting. He also knew that sometimes you needed to hide from those troubles, if only for a few hours.

“Now, about our wager.” He placed his palm over her fingers.

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