Nobody's Business (Nobody Romances) by Gina Ardito Page A

discomfort than in preparation to ski off
the chair. "Do you need help getting off the lift?"
    "Are you deliberately changing the subject?"
    From the corner of her eye, she gauged the distance to the
incline and the gear house. "My question needs an answer
right away. Yours can wait."
    "That's a matter of opinion."
    Her attention swerved back to him pronto. "What is? Whether
or not you need help getting off the lift? You may not believe
this, but I'm pretty familiar with the Ski-Hab program, so you
needn't feel embarr-"
    "Will you have dinner with me?"
    The ramp loomed closer. "Would you forget about that right
now? Do you need help getting off the lift? Yes or no?"
    "Answer my question first. Will you have dinner with me
tonight? Yes or no?"
    God, no. But she couldn't turn him down flat. Not after yesterday's fiasco. The last thing she wanted was to hurt the man's
feelings. Again. Her skis hit the front of the ramp with a thumpswish. "Can we talk about this later? Please?"
    He shrugged, leaning back, totally at odds with her readyto-spring-from-the-lift stance. "I can continue to sit here and
make the kid in the booth take me back down on the chair if
you don't say yes," he threatened.
    Well, wouldn't that tick off Ryan, the kid in the booth? And
Kevin, in the other booth, who was probably waiting at the
bottom end of the lift with one foot out the door? Kevin hadn't
exactly been thrilled that she'd chosen his particular lift to ride
after closing time. Apparently, the kid had some major video game competition at a friend's house tonight, and her request
was going to make him sit out the first round. Now, if he had to
wait for Mr. Sawyer to come back down to the base area? Annoyance pricked her nape. A ticked-off Kevin would complain
to everyone, and she'd become the mountain's resident pariah.

    The chair hovered near the end of the unloading zone. Her
skis flattened against the crest. They had breaths of time now
before the chair would swing around, and Ryan would either
have to stop the lift for them to jump off or take them back
down the other side, their last run of the day nothing more than
a missed opportunity and a thorn in Kevin's side.
    "Yes or no, Ms. Hill?" Mr. Sawyer pressed.
    Three...
    Ridiculous. Aside from guests at her bed-and-breakfast, she
didn't dine with strangers. And certainly not dinner, which denoted a certain romantic connotation.
    Two...
    Besides, she had to go home. Had things to do. April, Jeff,
and the kids might already be back from their day trip to Lake
Champlain-particularly if they left, oh, say, fifteen minutes
after they arrived there.
    One...
    Her arguments crumbled. "All right, all right! Yes. I'll go to
dinner with you. Now get off!" She lifted her bottom off the
seat, felt the chair push her down the opposite side of the ramp.
    As she made the turn around the massive steel tower of the
lift, the swish of his skis beside her broke the silence. Five seconds later, the hum of the chairlift ground to a halt. At least
Kevin would only miss the first round. And maybe he wouldn't
hold it against her forever.
    Mr. Sawyer zipped closer and flashed a smug grin. "There
now. Was that so hard?"
    "No." She clenched her teeth to bite back the rest of her
retort.
    "But ... ?" he prompted.
    So much for keeping her thoughts to herself. The man was
perceptive, she'd grant him that much. Somehow, he'd become
fully aware she had more to say. Okay, fine. He wanted to know? She'd let him have it with both barrels. "Look, Mr.
Sawyer-"

    "Doug," he corrected.
    "Doug," she said with a sigh. "The only reason you got me
to agree was because you used blackmail."
    "Blackmail?" His eyes rounded in mock innocence, sooty
lashes batting surprise clearer than Morse code's SOS. "I never
resort to blackmail. It was a dare."
    A shiver rippled her spine. A dare. Why did he have to dare
her?
    She stopped at the crest of the first hill and inhaled the
crisp, clean air for fortitude.