CA 35 Christmas Past (4 page)

           
Until
now.

           
CHAPTER FOUR

           
Three Days
Until
Christmas

           
INCREDIBLY, THE NIGHT
had passed without any trouble to speak of. Molly had gone out to dinner and
hadn’t returned until Jason was already in bed. He’d watched her slip through
the dark sitting room on her way to the bedroom. She’d closed the door and run
a bath.

           
He’d tried to go back
to sleep, but sleep had proven impossible. He’d kept imagining her naked.
Hadn’t been that difficult since she’d been wearing nothing but a
towel when they met.
Flashes of those long, toned legs and all that
curly dark hair cascading over her shoulders had kept him tossing and turning
for hours. He had imagined her stepping from that tub with the water slipping
down her skin.
Her soft fingers smoothing the towel along
that same path.

           
The only good thing
about it was the fact that he hadn’t been slammed in the gut with a panic
attack. Not to mention he hadn’t felt that kind of attraction in three years.
Maybe it was a sign that coming here had been the right step toward recovery.

           
That was what his
shrink called it.
Recovery.
Recovering himself and his
ability to face each day with whatever trials it brought.

           
“Yeah
right.”
Just because some parts still worked didn’t mean he was anywhere
near
recovered.

           
There was something
else he wasn’t supposed to do—expect failure.

           
Where the hell had his
confidence gone? The only place he felt like himself was on the track. Would
the time come when he lost that, too?

           
Opening the door as
soundlessly as possible, he stepped out of the bathroom. He was dressed and
ready to go. All he needed was his gear—

           
“Good morning.” Molly
had one hand on the door, obviously on her way out. “You were so quiet I
thought you were gone already.”

           
He couldn’t speak for a
moment. He could only stare at her.
Dressed all in
black—sweater, cold-weather slacks that fit her toned legs like a second skin,
mountain boots and heavy-duty parka.
The necessary gloves stuck out of
her pockets. That mass of wild curls was tucked into a ski hat. A bag of gear
hung from her left hand.

           
She was ready for an
expedition, as well.

           
Just like Cynthia had
been that final morning…the day before Christmas.

           
“You had breakfast?”

           
He mentally scrambled
to regain his bearings in the present. “No. I…” He what? Planned to go out
without fueling up? Not a smart move. Saying it out loud would be even dumber.

           
“Great. We can have
breakfast together.” She smiled. “Management feels so bad about what happened
,
they’ll probably spring for our meals, too.”

           
He walked across the
room and pulled on his parka, then stuffed the gloves into the pockets. “I’ll
get something later.” He grabbed his gear.

           
“Okay.” She smiled.
“Have fun.”

           
She had a nice smile.
And the cutest little freckles sprinkled across her nose.

           
What the hell was he
doing? Last night he’d been frustrated and travel weary. He hadn’t been
thinking straight. He should never have agreed to this arrangement. The action
was wholly out of character for him…even since he’d started losing his mind.

           
This was about the most
ridiculous situation he’d ever gotten himself into.

           
He didn’t try to catch
up with her as they moved down the corridor outside the room. She stopped at
the elevators and pushed the call button. He kept going, heading for the
stairwell. The longer he was with her the more questions she would ask. They’d
already shared enough personal information.

           
More than he’d shared
with a stranger in…three years.

           
Funny—he reached for
the stairwell door—it seemed that most everything about his life had either
ended or ground to a near stop three years ago.

           
Right here in Aspen.

           
Maybe that was the
problem. He was disoriented to some degree…making decisions he wouldn’t usually
even entertain.

           
He slung the backpack
over his shoulder and took his time descending the stairs. Maybe by the time
he’d reached the lobby, she would already be out the main entrance or in the
restaurant.

           
There were far too many
mountain trails around here for them to end up attempting the same one. But he
didn’t want to risk running into her again in the lobby. He’d been wrong when
he arrived yesterday. He wasn’t the only person here alone. Molly was alone, as
well. Unlike him, she didn’t appear to want to stay that way. If he encountered
her in the lobby, she would no doubt suggest they go climbing together.

           
That was something he
had to do alone.

           
Assuming he could do
it.

           
That was the crazy
thing. He could push his car around the track one hundred and eighty miles per
hour, but he couldn’t put one foot in front of the other to do one damned thing
else considered even remotely dangerous without breaking out in a cold sweat.

           
He paused as he reached
the lobby.
Strange.
He hadn’t had the usual nightmares
last night.
Hadn’t awakened in a cold sweat with his heart
beating out of his chest.
Once he’d gone to sleep, he’d slept straight
through until the alarm went off on his cell phone at five this morning.

           
Must’ve been crazy
tired.

           
Being tired certainly
hadn’t helped before, but maybe he was finally turning that corner toward
acceptance and recovery.

           
However minimal, it was
progress.

           
The lobby was crowded
with skiers prepared for adventure.
All ages and all sizes.
Some clearly total amateurs, others obviously seasoned pros.

           
He pulled his
sunglasses from his pack and pushed them into place. If he was really lucky, no
one would notice him. But Aspen was one of those places that drew celebrities.
The Hollywood types loved coming here, especially during the holidays, and
wherever celebrities gathered, so did the paparazzi.

           
All he had to do was
get across the lobby without running into one of their spotters.

           
MOLLY LINGERED NEAR the
massive fireplace and scanned the crowd milling about in the lobby.
Still no sign of
Fewell
.

           
Wait.

           
There he was.

           
He’d ventured across
the lobby but hadn’t made it out the main entrance. Instead, he had stopped at
an ATM machine.

           
Had he noticed the two
spotters chatting in the center of the room? A large gathering place with comfy
sofas and chairs all grouped into conversation areas was designed to give
guests a place to meet and make plans. But the two men filtering back and forth
through the crowd were not guests. She didn’t know either of them, but she
recognized the tactics. One would chat while the other, seemingly involved in
the conversation, scouted for prey. Their body language, more than anything
else, gave them away.
The false smiles and disingenuous
laughter.
They were pros, too. The little game they played didn’t miss a
beat.

           
The hands-free cell
phone accessories each wore didn’t set them apart from any of a number of other
guests sporting the same technology. But Molly watched the two. Even as they
seemingly spoke to each other, their body language warned that another
conversation was going on with a third party. They were keeping someone
informed of the goings-on in the lobby while they received the latest
information on airport arrivals.

           
One of the guys had
noticed
Fewell
, was watching his movements at the
ATM. If
Fewell
didn’t get moving soon, he was going
to give himself away. How long did it take to make a transaction?

           
Fewell
had been a public figure plenty long enough to be better at this.

           
One of the spotters
moved through the crowd, weaving his way in the direction of the ATM station.

           
Molly bolted into
action. She skirted around the throng of guests, making it to
Fewell’s
position with scarcely a second to spare.

           
“Baby!”
She threw her arms around him when he turned to her in surprise. “I thought you
were never coming down. You ready to go?” She guided him away from the ATM,
keeping an arm curled around his shoulders.

           
He didn’t resist as she
ushered him out the main entrance into the bitter cold.

           
“What the blazes was
that all about?” he asked as they cleared those gathered at the valet parking
stand.

           
“A spotter almost made
you.”

           
He stared at her. Molly
wished she could see his eyes behind those dark
glasses,
determine if he was annoyed, relieved or suspicious.

           
His jaw tightened. “How
would you know about spotters?”

           
Well, that answered her
question. “I run checks on people,” she reminded him as she glanced beyond his
broad shoulders. “We should get out of here if you don’t want to draw
attention.”

           
“My SUV’s in valet
parking.”

           
“You hang around here
and you’ll be made for sure.” She tugged him away from the line gathered at the
valet desk. Before he could decide whether he was going to believe her or not,
she leaned in close and said, “Come on. I’m parked in the garage. I can get us
out of here.”

           
He hesitated.

           
She didn’t give up,
tugging a little more firmly. “Besides, I know a great place off the beaten
path that serves a terrific breakfast.”

           
He relented.

           
Molly hadn’t used the
valet parking for precisely this reason. She had to be prepared to go on a
moment’s notice and waiting in a line for her car to be delivered to her was
not conducive to that kind of exodus. Using the valet parking would be routine
for guys like
Fewell
. He could learn a few things
from her.

           
When they’d settled
into the SUV and she’d started the engine, he broke his silence. “What does
running security checks on people have to do with picking a spotter out of a
crowd?”

           
He was still
suspicious. “Okay, the truth is—” she backed out of the parking slot and headed
for the exit “—I don’t just work from an office. I interview neighbors. Lots of
legwork, following up on the answers people provide on their résumés and
applications. Body language is a key element in determining
what’s
fact
and what’s fiction. You know what I mean?”

           
“Maybe.”
He didn’t completely buy her story.

           
She braked for the
garage exit. “Duck down until we’re out of here.”

           
He didn’t argue, since
another clutch of skiers poured out of the lodge’s main front entrance. He
wasn’t about to risk being spotted by the
celeb
stalkers.

           
She let off the brake
and eased down on the accelerator. “You won’t be sorry,” she said, hoping to
make him feel better about having followed her instructions. “Mama Jo’s has the
best coffee for a hundred miles.”

           
When they were far
enough away from the lodge entrance, she gave him the all clear. “It’s safe for
you to get up now.” It was still dark, but the village lights made the ice and
snow sparkle.
A winter wonderland.
That was Aspen.
God, she’d missed this part of the country. It snowed in Chicago, but the
landscape was nothing like this. The only mountains seen from her apartment
view were skyscrapers.