Out of Character. Diana Miller

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      Although Jillian repeated that mantra to herself all afternoon, she couldn’t help looking for Mark in case he’d changed his mind and decided to ski that afternoon. When they got back to their townhouse, she called him the instant Kristen left the living room to shower.

      “How was skiing?” he asked.

      “Terrific, and Kristen thinks you should be canonized.” Jillian sat on the leather sofa. “What did you do?”

      “Ran a couple errands, then came back and slept. I needed to recharge my energy for tonight.”

      His words made her body simmer. “Why don’t we ski before dinner? I’d like to try night skiing.” That was true, but Jillian’s primary motivation for suggesting it was her brain telling her she needed to slow things down.

      “Aren’t you exhausted?” Mark asked. “You got as little sleep as I did.”

      “I’m an ER doctor. I’m used to weird sleep schedules. Although I’ll need more tonight,” her brain made her add.

      “How about if I promise to let you sleep three hours?”

      “Three?” Her brain screamed that she needed to sleep all night, alone.

      “Four, then.”

      She closed her eyes. “You’ve got a deal.” Brains had no business dictating vacation conduct. “If you agree to go night skiing first.” She could still slow things down a little.

      “Okay. Afterwards we can use the hot tub at my place.”

      “That’s a good idea. You should be careful of your knee. That scar is nasty.” Mark had a scar on his abdomen and a couple on his legs, including an especially vicious one above his kneecap. Souvenirs from a car accident a few years ago that had resulted in his broken leg, he’d said, and presumably the death of his wife.

      “I appreciate your concern, but that wasn’t why I suggested the hot tub,” he said dryly. “Can you meet me in an hour?”

      “I thought I could cook something for dinner, and that won’t give me enough time to shop.”

      “How about we get takeout tonight?” His voice lowered and roughened. “Because I’m not sure I can stand waiting even an hour to see you again.”

      Right. A line, and an old one at that, but it still turned Jillian’s body to melting JELL-O. “An hour will be perfect. I’ll meet you in front of the lodge.”

      “If it’s no big deal, why are you blushing like that?” Kristen stood in the doorway, still dressed in ski clothes.

      Jillian stood up. “I need to get ready.”

      “I’d say if you were any more ready, you’d spontaneously combust.”

      Jillian glared at Kristen, then headed for her bedroom, her stride and bearing pure Katharine Hepburn.

      Except no one would have dared laugh so hysterically at one of Katharine’s exits.

      * * * *

      Mark hung up the phone then stood to one side of the picture window, out of bullet range. The sun had nearly set, the mountains jagged, imposing silhouettes against the orange-tinged gray sky. He’d always loved mountains and not only because their myriad of escape routes and hideouts had saved his ass more than once. Their enormity and quiet power made him feel an emotion he couldn’t name and rarely experienced. He’d say they touched his soul, if he were at all certain he had one.

      He closed the aluminum blinds, returned to the sofa, and sat down, his gun resting on his thigh. Who could have guessed a woman with frosty hair and icy eyes would have all that fire inside of her? Just hearing her voice had made him hard. Who would blame him if he wasn’t willing to give that up yet?

      His blasted conscience would, and contrary to popular belief, he did have one. Right now his conscience was lecturing that even though he was certain he wasn’t endangering Jillian, he should still feel guilty about convincing her to spend last night and tonight with him. He’d even stooped to telling dog stories, for God’s sake.

      Not that he’d forced her. But Jillian didn’t have a clue what he really was, would never have skied with him if she had. Even he wasn’t persuasive enough to convince an ER doctor dedicated to saving lives to be with a man who’d ended so many of them.

      Although Jillian wasn’t doing anything with him. She was doing it with Mark Jefferson, a New York City accountant, slightly dull but from a nice family, considerate, friendly, eminently respectable. An all-around good guy.

      He got up and strode to the kitchen then opened the refrigerator and dug around inside. So he was prepared to ignore his conscience and bring Jillian back here again tonight, despite knowing she’d be appalled at what he was and hurt when he disappeared without explanation. He pulled a bottle of mineral water from behind the chardonnay they’d never finished and slammed the refrigerator door. All so he could have a little more hot sex.

      He smiled grimly at his reflection in the stainless steel door. He truly was as big a bastard as people thought.

      * * * *

      The moon and stars sparkled in the crystal cold, illuminating shadowy peaks, onyx sky, and an occasional fat snowflake. In the lamplight below their chairlift, two silhouettes traversed glowing Styrofoam snow. Jillian half-expected to see an ice palace and snow queen. “Admit it, it’s beautiful.”

      “Beautiful.” Mark kissed her, his lips warm despite the chilly air.

      “Be careful. You might fall out.”

      “Then I could find out how good a doctor you are.”

      “I’m damn good.”

      He kissed her again, longer this time. “Can’t argue with that.”

      “I was referring to my medical skills.”

      Skiing down the hill proved even more magical than riding the chairlift, their schussing skis the only sound in the cathedral-like silence. Mark stayed beside Jillian for a while then accelerated, moving nearly straight down the hill.

      Jillian kept to her more leisurely pace, warmth filling her chest. Much as she tried to deny it, Kristen was right. She had fallen for Mark. Even though their relationship might end when vacation did. Even though she never did anything as impulsive as falling for a man this fast. Even though he could be married with seven kids or make his living conning old ladies out of their inheritances.

      Except she trusted him. She skied to him and kissed his cheek.

      “What’s that for?”

      “Because I’m having so much fun. I can’t believe more people aren’t out on such a gorgeous night. We have the hill to ourselves.”

      “Not exactly to ourselves,” Mark said as another couple skied toward them. “But it’s a big hill.” He wrapped an arm around Jillian’s shoulders, and they skied together to the chairlift and got on.

      “I want this scene on my Christmas cards next year,” Jillian СКАЧАТЬ