Dying To Play. Debra Webb

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СКАЧАТЬ way they have been. After this weekend, Bob won’t take me for granted anymore.”

      Jill squinted up at the gray sky. “It looks like it might storm. I don’t like the idea of leaving you up here all alone.”

      “I won’t be alone. Bob’s here. Somewhere.” She turned to study the log chalet at the base of the ski slopes. Good thing Aspen Creek was a small resort, with only this one building of condos. She’d never have found Bob at some big place like Vail or Copper Mountain.

      “I still say what kind of guy goes to a ski resort to spend the weekend working?”

      Cassie hugged her arms around herself and stamped her feet as a blast of icy wind gusted across the road. “Bob’s been really wrapped up in his job lately. This weekend will be a good chance for us to talk about our relationship.”

      “From the looks of that pack, you don’t intend to spend much time talking.”

      Cassie’s cheeks burned. So maybe talk wasn’t all she had in mind. Was there anything wrong with a woman surprising her longtime boyfriend with a little seduction? Somebody had to do something before whatever they’d once had between them died of neglect. “This was your idea, remember? And I thought it would be good to try something different.”

      “This is different, all right. It’s not like you at all.”

      Cassie knew what that meant. It wasn’t like quiet, dependable, conventional Cassie to take off for a wild weekend fling. “Maybe this is like me,” she said. “The real me.”

      Jill didn’t look any less worried. “Just be careful.” She gave Cassie a quick hug. “Call me if you need anything.”

      Cassie nodded. “I will. And thanks.”

      “Call me Monday, anyway.” Jill opened the driver’s-side car door. “I want a full report.”

      Cassie laughed and started up the road toward the lodge. At the top of the hill, she turned to wave at Jill, then took a deep breath and headed off for what was going to be either the greatest thrill of her life, or the biggest embarrassment.

      Skiers crowded into the lodge office, some fresh from the slopes, clomping across the carpet in snow-dusted ski boots, others gathered around a massive stone fireplace, enjoying hot toddies or cold beers. A picture window behind the registration desk showed fresh snow falling on the groomed slopes, a line of skiers at the lift waiting for another run down the mountain.

      Cassie stood in line at the front desk behind an older couple in matching sweatshirts that bore the legend, We’re Spending Our Children’s Inheritance. Would she and Bob ever be like that, so close after years together that they were practically twins? She frowned. Somehow, she couldn’t picture it.

      She shifted, trying to surreptitiously adjust the teddy she wore beneath her sweater and leggings. The black silk lingerie, cut up to here and down to there was a far cry from her usual plain-Jane underwear. She felt supersexy wearing it.

      “Are you telling me there’s not one single room available in the entire resort?” The voice of the older man in front of her rose over the murmur of conversation in the lobby.

      “I’m sorry, Mr. Kates, but we’re booked solid. We don’t have any rooms available until next Wednesday.”

      “Come along, dear. I’m sure we can find a room in Winter Park.” The woman tugged at her husband’s arm. “Next time we’ll call ahead.”

      “I guess we’d better,” the husband grumbled, turning away from the desk. “I want to get settled for the night before that storm blows in.”

      “Yes, Miss, can I help you?”

      Cassie stepped up to the desk. “I believe Bob Hamilton is registered here?” She put on her best “trust me, I’m an honest person” smile and proceeded to lie. “He’s expecting me.”

      The clerk punched the keys of a computer. “Oh, yes, Ms. Patterson. He mentioned you would be arriving today.”

      The smile remained frozen on Cassie’s face, mainly because she was too stunned to move. “Ms. P-Patterson?”

      “Yes.” The clerk looked up from the computer. “You are Mary Ann Patterson, aren’t you?”

      “Yes. Of course.” What was another lie when she was in this so deep already?

      “Suite 418.” The clerk handed her a key and slid a computer printout toward her. “If you’ll sign here.”

      She scrawled something she hoped was unintelligible and picked up the key. Maybe there’d been some mistake. Maybe they’d gotten the name wrong. Maybe there were two Bob Hamiltons here this weekend.

      Right. And maybe she’d win the lottery next week and wake up four inches taller and five pounds lighter.

      She took the stairs up to the fourth floor two at a time, heart pounding from more than exertion. If she was going to chicken out, now was the time to do it. She could find a phone, call Jill to come pick her up and Bob would never know.

      Nothing would be any different between them and she’d either go on being “good old Cassie” or she’d go berserk one day and strangle him with his own dry cleaning.

      No. She straightened and settled the pack more firmly on her shoulders. She wasn’t going to quit this time.

      Suite 418 was at the end of a carpeted hallway. She slowed her steps, trying to remember what she’d planned to say, but all she could come up with was who the hell is Mary Ann Patterson?

      A petite brunette emerged from the elevator in front of her. She wore high-heeled black leather boots and brown suede leggings that clung to her thighs like a second skin. Her fisherman’s sweater looked expensive and her perfectly styled hair could only have come from a high-class salon. She was the kind of woman who had never in her life been in danger of being invisible.

      Cassie hung back, wanting this stranger to be safely in her room before she confronted Bob. The woman strode down the hall, a tapestry flight bag wheeling behind her. The farther down the hall she walked, the tighter the knot in Cassie’s stomach grew. By the time the woman knocked on the door of 418, Cassie wasn’t even surprised.

      “Sweetie, so glad you made it ahead of the storm!” Bob’s voice echoed down the hallway as the door opened. Cassie ducked behind a potted palm, peeking through the fronds to watch Bob envelop Puss in Boots in a hug. She didn’t even bother trying to convince herself that the woman might, after all, be a business associate, since one of Bob’s hands was firmly caressing the woman’s suede-clad behind.

      She wasn’t sure if the lump in her throat was a stifled scream or incipient nausea. Rather than let loose with either in the hallway, she bolted back along the corridor and down the stairs. What a mess she was in now—stranded with a snowstorm on its way, a bottle of champagne rapidly warming in her backpack, a French lace teddy creeping up her butt and no room at the inn.

      GUY WALTERS unlocked the door to the family condo and dumped his bags in the entryway. He’d spent so many weekends here over the years that the rooms were as familiar to him as his own apartment. His dad had taught him to ski here at Aspen Creek. His mother had taken him ice skating on the resort’s pond. A weekend here always meant sleigh rides, marshmallow СКАЧАТЬ