Nobody's Business (Nobody Romances) (17 page)

Once out of Jeff and Michael's visual range, she pulled the
cherry lip balm from her inside jacket pocket and rolled it
over her lips. Pretending to inspect her board, she watched the
skiers and boarders lining up near the triple chairlift for possible companion candidates. A few couples, several junior highaged boys, and a guy with a purple-and-green-striped jester hat
on his head. Pass.

With a calculating eye, she began her mental scrutiny of the
males loitering around the base area.

Loser, double loser, loser extraordinaire ...

Ah! There! Lone guy headed for the triple chairlift. Could be cute. Hard to tell with the helmet covering most of his head
and face. But he had more potential than anyone else so far.
He would definitely require closer inspection. She strode to
the lift, her snowboard tucked under her arm, then meandered
toward the line for singles only, right behind her target. Mr.
Potential didn't look in her direction, so she faked a kitty-cat
sneeze.

That got him to turn around, at least long enough to murmur gesundheit.

She flashed a perfect smile. "Thank you."

Shoot. He already faced front again. Before she could get a
good look at him, and he could get any real look at her.

Becky inched closer to the guy, so close that if he whipped
his head around, his lips would smack her forehead deadcenter. Time to open up a conversation.

"Ummm ... excuse me?"

He didn't move.

Cute but stupid? She could work with that if she had to. Not
her first choice, of course, but if he turned out to be a goodlooking zero, she'd take a bunch of pics this morning and then
ditch him by lunchtime. So long as he didn't have that faraway
look: the farther away, the better he looked.

Becky was just about to tap the guy on the shoulder when
she heard, "Hey, it's you."

Turning, she found herself face-to-face with Ace Riordan.
He stood outside the black strapped queue, goggles and helmet dangling from his left hand and his board held against his
right hip.

Heat rocketed up from her throat to her cheeks. Oh God, oh
God, oh God. Not him. Not again. Not after their last meeting
when she'd called him a perv. And made a total idiot of herself.

"Becky, right?" he said. "You're Lyn's niece."

Funny. He didn't seem angry or insulted. More like ...
interested. In her? Why?

She tried to speak, but croaked instead. Her mouth felt
more clogged than the lint filter in her dorm's dryer. Swallowing hard, she nodded.

"Are you headed up to the summit?"

"Uh-huh."

"You any good on that thing?" He jerked his head toward
her pink camo snowboard.

Another nod.

"Mind if I ride along with you?"

"Why?" The word escaped before she thought better of it.

He shrugged. "Why not?"

Because you're you, and I'm me. This time, though, she
managed to keep the comment behind tight lips.

"Come on." He ducked under the black barrier and popped
up beside her on the other side. "Slide over to the two-or-more
lane."

"Hey!" someone behind Becky interjected. "No cutting."

Ace smiled, his teeth whiter than the snow covering the
trails around them. "Sorry. We'll move to the back of the line,
okay?"

His words still hung in the air when the first squeal of recognition erupted. "Omigod, you're Ace Riordan!"

With a sidelong wink at Becky, he replied, "Guilty as
charged."

On sharp gasps and dull whispers, the crowd rushed forward in a frenzy. Cell phones and digital cameras popped up
at every angle. Elbows jabbed her back and ribs. Boots stepped
on her toes. The crush of people jerked her left, yanked her
right, and pushed her backward, all at the same time. Shouted
requests pierced the air.

"Ace, can I get a picture?"

"Why are you here, Ace?"

"Would you sign my jacket?"

A wooly mammoth of a man suddenly threw his weight
into Becky, and she stumbled. Oh God. She'd be trampled to
death under this mob. A swift hand shot out to grip her elbow,
keeping her upright. Ace.

Her snowboard slipped from her grasp, fell to the slushy
ground, and became lost in the sea of boots surging to reach
the world-famous Snowball.

"Easy guys," Ace shouted, to be heard over the roar of requests. "Cut my girl here a little slack. She's not used to this
kind of attention."

He wound an arm around Becky's waist, hauled her up against
his side. Annoyance took a temporary backseat to safety, and
she clung to him.

"My board," she whispered. "It's on the ground."

Ace gave her a surreptitious nod. "Okay, okay, everybody
do me a favor and take one giant step backward, please."

Like an army of robots, the clamoring fans retreated enough
for Becky to scoop up her now totally scuffed board. Once she
held it high enough to inspect thoroughly, her spirits sank to
new depths. A jagged crack ran between the bindings. Great.
She must have tutored jock-for-brains Isaac Morgan more than
a hundred hours to earn the money for this board. Now it was
garbage. Tears of frustration filled her eyes, but she sniffed to
hold them in check.

Bitterness burned her throat as she switched her focus from
the ruined snowboard to Ace's grinning face. Why had he
popped up here all of a sudden? She should have known he had
some ulterior motive for paying attention to her. Like the great
Ace Riordan would ever want to spend time with a nobody like
her.

The harder she tried to stifle her emotions, the more ragged
her breathing grew. "You know," she managed to say over her
tremors, "I'm really sorry I insulted you the other day. But at
least, when I did it, I had no idea who you were. And I thought
I was protecting my brother. But this?" She held up the cracked
board. "This was just plain mean."

One last shove against his shoulder, and she stalked by him,
headed against the flow of the throng-away from Ace Riordan. As far away as she could get.

Using her broken board to part the crowd, she zigged and
zagged past the eager fans until she finally broke out of the
queue. She should have gone to Cancun, should have told her
mother she needed to stay on campus, should have opted to
spend the week with Aunt Summer or Grandma rather than
come on this stupid trip.

"Hey!" Ace called over the melee. "Wait!"

Becky only increased her speed. Any minute now her anger
would surrender to her despair. And she'd die before she'd let
him see her cry.

"Becky! Wait up!"

She ignored him and kept going. After leaving the ruined
snowboard against a battered steel trash can, she thudded across
the outdoor deck. She nearly collided with a family exiting the
lodge when she yanked the handles of the double doors. With a
quick dodge and a mumbled "Excuse me," she fled inside.

The noise level indoors slammed her like a brick wall, along
with the odors of oily food, smoky wood from the fireplace, and
sweaty old socks. Naturally, there wasn't a chair or inch of table
space available to sit and sulk. Going downstairs would mean
walking past the ski shop with all that shiny, top-of-the-line
equipment displayed in the windows.

She had no interest in visiting the lame game room again,
and she wasn't old enough to go upstairs to the bar area. For
now, she meandered through the crowds, bypassing customers
holding disposable cups of hot chocolate, coffee, soup, or
chili, and avoiding tripping over boot bags and duffels lined
up on the outskirts of the aisles between tables. Everyone
seemed to be laughing or talking excitedly or just plain having a good time with friends and family. Everyone except
her.

And today was only day three! She'd never make it to the
weekend without her board or her headphones, which Michael
had ruined yesterday. Forget her cell phone. Mount Elsie was the
black hole of dead zones. She was stuck in solitary confinement
until Sunday night.

On a dramatic sigh, she thunked over to the cafeteria area.
Maybe she could drown her problems in a hot chocolate and a
soft pretzel. With some of that nacho cheese sauce for dipping.
Carb City, the perfect place to cure the blues. The line wended
from the tray and silverware area, past the information booth,
and almost to the back of the lodge. Oh well. It wasn't like she
was in a rush. She had hours to kill with nothing to do.

Reaching the line's end, she slid behind the last customer and proceeded to wait. The heat from the fireplace behind her
seared through her jacket, but with no place to stuff her gear,
she suffered in silence.

She'd barely moved up two spots before a voice murmured
in her ear. "Hey."

Whirling, she met Ace Riordan's heart-melting smile with
a growl. "What? You're not done ruining my day?"

"I'm sorry about your board."

"Yeah, I'll bet."

"No, really." He took her hand. "Come on."

She pulled out of his grasp with a jerk that almost made her
tumble, but she managed to steady herself by slamming her
knee against the edge of a bench. Fabulous. All this and bruises
too. Who could ask for anything more? With one hand rubbing her abused leg, she ordered, "Go away."

"Will you just come with me? Please?"

"Why? You have fans lurking in a dark corner to grab me
and shave my head?"

He had the nerve to laugh. "God, you sure get your back up
easy."

"No one's making you stay here," she retorted. "So go away
and leave me alone. Then we'll both be happy."

"Sorry. No can do. I'm not leaving until you agree to come
with me."

Frustration escaped in a long hiss of expelled breath.
"Where?"

"Just follow me."

"Fine," she exclaimed. "Make it fast."

He took her hand and squeezed when she tried to pull away
again. "Be a good girl and play along, Becs. Can I call you
Becs?"

"No." Because when he called her Becs in that husky way,
butterflies flitted in her stomach and her toes curled in her
boots.

"Too bad."

Never releasing her hand, he pulled her downstairs, past the
rest rooms, the locker rooms, and straight for the ski shop. As
they neared the entrance, she hung back. Now what?

Maybe he really did have a bunch of fans waiting to attack
her for what she'd said to him the other day.

"Come on!" Ace pulled harder, and she stumbled, landing
clumsily against his chest.

Their awkward entrance drew the attention of two people
behind the counter. "Hey, Ace," a tall, gawky young man with
a tremendous overbite exclaimed. "What's up?"

"Dennis," Ace replied, "meet Becs. Becs, this is Dennis. And
he's going to outfit you with all brand-new equipment. At my
expense. Pick whatever you like. Then you and I will hit the
summit and tear this place up."

In mid-pedicure, Summer Raine Jackson whipped her ringing cell phone from her Coach bag. She glanced at the caller
ID and smiled at her friend Laurel in the chair beside her.

"It's Lyn," she said as she hit the connect button. Without a
hello, she spoke into the mouthpiece. "Don't tell me April's
driving you crazy already!"

"Hey, thanks, Sum." April's sarcastic edge could have sliced
Summer's ear in half.

Whoops.

Embarrassment lowered her voice to a hush. "April?"

At Summer's question, Laurel winced and sucked in a
breath.

Ignoring her friend's reaction, Summer moved straight into
crow-eating mode. "I'm sorry. I just ..." What? What could
she possibly say that wouldn't sound petty or mean? She just
knew how Lyn valued her peace, and April, complete with entourage, left a trail of chaos wherever she went? Yeah, that'd go
over well.

"Relax," April said with a giggle. "I'm busting your chops.
No offense taken. In fact, you're probably right, to some small
degree."

Summer did a double take for Laurel's benefit. Cupping the
speaker, she whispered, "Forgot. This is the new and improved
April."

"Ah, yes," Laurel replied in the same low tone. "April in
lurrrrrve, living in her pretty pink world of hearts and flowers."

Summer still had trouble believing her older sister now had poise, self-confidence, and a man who adored her. All the
wonderful things Summer, herself, used to have.

She hastily shut the door on those thoughts, as she had every
day for over a year. "So how goes the vacation?"

"Great. Lyn's got a boyfriend."

"What?" Lyn? Now even the eternal grieving widow had a
more exciting love life than she did? "Are you serious?"

In the background, Lyn squawked, but April spoke over
whatever argument Lyn wanted to make. "He's a Ski-Hab student. Big guy. Great eyes. And those eyes get all googly over
our baby sister."

"Pay no attention to her, Sum!" Lyn's voice carried from the
background. "She's delusional."

"Saw it with my own eyes and so did Jeff," April rejoined.
"Came back to the inn last night to find them cozied up together with dinner for two and a fire in the hearth. Very traditional first date kinda stuff."