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

When he halted beside her, she
studied him cryptically. Something about Doug Sawyer put
her on edge. Not in a bad way. More like the adrenaline rush
she used to experience immediately before the buzzer sounded
at the start of a competition. An addictive high she'd kicked
years ago. Or at least, she'd thought she kicked it.
    "Wanna race to the bottom?"
    His question must have become mangled in her gray matter. He couldn't possibly have asked ...
    She blinked. Didn't he have any idea who he challenged?
    No, of course not. Why would he?
    Despite the electricity tingling in her veins at the thought of
a race, she shook her head. "I don't think so."
    "Afraid I'll beat you, huh? Well, that's understandable. I'm
a big threat. A one-armed recent graduate of the bunny slope
who's got at least eighty pounds and about fourteen inches on
you. Yes, sir. Which anyone who took basic physics courses
can tell ya translates into a real speed demon on a downhill."
    "That's precisely why I won't race you," she replied. "When
I win, you'll be crushed."
    "When you win?" He mimed an arrow piercing his chest,
complete with the slight stagger backward and the exaggerated
expression of pain. "Aw, now you've gone and wounded my
male pride. Again."
    "Again?"
    He tilted his head toward hers. Dear God, his eyes would peer
into her soul if she let them. To prevent such an occurrence, she veered her gaze to the trail below them. Not quite as smooth
as she would have liked. Some icy patches, one or two sparse
areas where brown grass peeked up through the veneer.

    "You do recall when you planted me in the snow yesterday,
right?" he said dryly.
    Her focus snapped back to him, face filling with heat. "I
told you I was sorry about that-" His laughter stopped her in
mid-excuse. "You're teasing me?"
    "No, I'm challenging you." He shoved the point of his pole
into the snow. "For fun. And to challenge myself. I was a fairly
decent skier before my accident. You've given me my first opportunity to really find out what I can do with this." He flapped
his empty sleeve again. "Let's open 'er up and see what happens.
What do you think?"
    What did she think? A challenge. The air crackled, as if
she'd pulled a woolen cap from her hair. She smiled. "What if
I win?"
    "If you win, I slink back to the bunny hill, honorably defeated. What's more, I release you from our dinner date."
    Date? The smile evaporated, and she gulped the anxiety
rising in her throat. A ... date? He really was asking her on a
date?
    "And you can go back to"-he paused-"whatever it is you
planned to do tonight."
    Yeah, right. What she'd planned was basically what she always did on Tuesday nights. Dinner alone, followed by watching Mrs. Bascomb's stellar imitation of Madame Defarge for
an hour or two. In bed by ten with the evening news and lights
out before the weatherman predicted the next snowfall. Oh,
sure. Rip-roarin' times at Snowed Inn Bed-and-Breakfast.
    "But if I win," he continued, "we keep our date."
    "Not a date. An engagement," she corrected, then practically
bit her tongue in half. Good God, that sounded even worse
than date.
    And of course, his grin let her know he had no intention of
allowing her to wriggle out of her own trap.
    "Engagement?" He batted his eyes, cupped his left hand
near his chin like a schoolgirl. "Gee, this is so sudden. Is it okay if I take some time to think about it? I mean, I like you
and all, but-"

    "Okay! Okay! You're on!" Anything to stop his inanity. Besides, the rush of icy wind from a good downhill sprint just
might cool the burn in her cheeks before she spontaneously
combusted. "Winner is the one who reaches the base lodge
first."
    He wagged a gloved index finger near her nose. "I want you
to give it your all," he said. "No letting me win because you feel
sorry for me."
    "Sorry for you?" She laughed, completely at ease with this
easygoing, wacky man. "Trust me, Mr. Sawyer, the last thing
I feel for you is