Out of Character. Diana Miller

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СКАЧАТЬ slopes with the enthusiasm of a five-year-old on his first trip to Disneyland.

      “You still haven’t gotten your fill of the mountains,” she said.

      He shifted his gaze to her and smiled ruefully. “I guess it’s obvious I’m a geeky tourist. Why are you scared of skiing?”

      “I could claim it’s because I’m an ER doctor and know how dangerous skiing is, but the Colorado Tourism Bureau would probably get me fired.” Jillian smiled faintly. “It’s also a lie, although I did break a finger the last time I skied. I think it’s one of those irrational fear things, since I’m usually not a wimp.” She pulled off her gloves and stuck them in her pockets, then reached back and tried to stuff several loose hairs back under her ponytail binder. “Kristen’s big on self-help books, and she’s convinced it’s because I’m a control freak. When I ski, I’m out of control, and I can’t handle it.”

      “Are you?”

      “Maybe a little bit of a control freak,” she admitted. “Definitely out of control when I ski. Even when things seem to be going okay, I know my skis are waiting for the first opportunity to dump me into the snow or ram me into a person or tree.”

      “If you go slower and make wider turns, they won’t be able to.”

      “Except then someone who’s out of control will have a better shot at me.” She gave up on her hair and shoved her chilly hands back into marginally warmer gloves. “We’d better go.” She turned toward their instructor. “I’m planning on ditching the class and heading for the lodge at the end of this run, so it’s been nice talking to you.”

      Mark grabbed her arm. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we both skip the class and do a few runs together? I’ll ski right above you and make sure you don’t get hurt.” He removed his sunglasses, revealing a pair of smoky gray eyes. “You’ve already got good technique.” He pulled a cloth from his jacket pocket and polished his glasses. “All you need is a little confidence, and I think skiing with me would help that. Unless you have a husband or boyfriend who might object?”

      Her cheeks heated. “Not at the moment. But you don’t know what you’re offering. You only saw me do one run.”

      “I’d like to ski with you. I won’t let you get hurt, Jillian.” His eyes had darkened to charcoal. “You can trust me.”

      Jillian found herself nodding.

      “Good.” Mark replaced his sunglasses. “I’ll tell our instructor we’re bailing out.”

      Watching him ski away, Jillian fanned her warm face with her gloved hand, as agitated as a high school freshman who’d talked to her secret crush. She’d been so worried about getting up and down the mountain she’d never thought Mark might consider her more than someone to talk to in class. But why else would he have invited her to ski with him, asked her marital status, looked at her like that?

      Get real. She dropped her flapping hand. He was bored with a class far too easy for him, didn’t want to risk a run-in with a jealous boyfriend or husband, and had looked so serious and intensely at her because he was a serious, intense kind of guy. Accountant-like. All he wanted to do was ski with her, and she had a feeling a couple runs would be enough for both of them.

      * * * *

      To Jillian’s surprise, she ended up skiing with Mark the entire afternoon. He was right. She kept her skis under control by making slow, wide turns, as innumerable instructors had also told her. This time, however, she didn’t have to worry about anyone smashing into her because Mark skied above her, encouraging her. Her confidence grew, until after a lengthy chairlift ride, she looked down on an incline in Mount Everest territory, at least according to the figure eights her stomach was doing. “No way.” She turned to find another route down.

      Mark had been admiring the scenery, but now he caught her arm and met her eyes. He’d replaced his sunglasses with metal-rimmed glasses. “You can do it, Jillian. Just keep doing what you’ve been doing. I’ll be right behind you.”

      Jillian took a deep breath, tightened her hands on her poles, and pushed herself off. She started slowly, her skis barely angled downhill, with Mark skiing above her. After a moment, though, she realized she had enough control to avoid any skiers in her way. She didn’t need his protection. She accelerated, her skis gliding across snow that glistened like platinum in the late afternoon sun, a cool breeze caressing her cheeks. By the time she reached the bottom she was laughing, her heart pounding with exhilaration and adrenaline as if she’d won Olympic gold rather than simply made it down an intermediate slope. She grabbed Mark’s arm the instant he skied up beside her. “That was wonderful. I felt like I was flying. Thank you.”

      “My pleasure.” His smile was warm, his eyes even warmer. Her body heated as she stood there, staring at him.

      He broke eye contact, pulled up his sleeve, and glanced at his watch. “It’s ten after four,” he said in the easy tone he’d used all afternoon. “How much longer do you want to ski?”

      Jillian forced herself to match his tone. “I’d better stop now. I was supposed to meet Kristen at the lodge at four, and if I’m any later, she’ll worry I broke something major. Thanks for your help.”

      “I enjoyed it.”

      “Maybe I’ll run into you again. Hopefully not literally.” She started for the lodge.

      “Would you have dinner with me tonight?”

      Jillian turned back toward Mark. She hadn’t seen that one coming. Of course, she wouldn’t accept, even though he’d told her he was single and unattached. Skiing together was one thing, but a date was an entirely different matter. She never dated any man she hadn’t checked out and certainly not one she’d met on the ski slopes who might be lying about his marital status, his name, even be a vacationing serial killer for all she knew. She opened her mouth to refuse.

      And met his dark velvet eyes. On the other hand, she’d drive herself, and how much trouble could she get into at a crowded restaurant? “I’d like that.”

      * * * *

      “You have a date tonight and didn’t tell me before now?” Kristen Bartlett plopped down on a brown leather sofa in the living room of her parents’ townhouse. Despite a day of skiing, her shoulder-length dark hair fell in a smooth, shining bob, and her makeup was as flawless as when they’d left the townhouse that morning. Then again, Kristen always looked perfect. Tall, naturally thin, and model beautiful, she was also one of those woman who never had a bad hair or fat jeans day, never got dark circles, zits, or chipped a nail. She even looked good when she cried.

      Jillian had decided long ago that if she hadn’t loved Kristen like a sister, she would definitely have hated her.

      “I waited until we got somewhere private because I knew you’d make it into a big deal, even though it isn’t,” Jillian said.

      “It’s a very big deal.” Kristen rested her stocking feet on the reclaimed wood coffee table. “You haven’t had a single date in over six months. I didn’t even take that long after my divorce.”

      “I’ve been busy.” Jillian walked to the kitchen. She really didn’t want to have this discussion again.

      “Bull. You’re a lot less busy than during your residency, and you found time to date then. СКАЧАТЬ