Author's note: First off, I've just updated Chapter 9 as I posted the wrong draft last week (oops!), so although it's not wildly different, you might want to re-read before you come on to this chapter.

Secondly, thank you again for reading, reviewing, favouriting and following. I love you like Casey loves Reagan.

Characters still belong firmly to someone else, I'm just helping Casey with his R&R…

Chapter 10

"How can someone so fit be this uncoordinated?" Casey asked in disbelief as he hauled Nic up off of the snow yet again.

"I'm not!" She protested, brushing snow off her thankfully well-padded ski pants. "I've just got to find my rhythm!"

He snorted. "It's not a dance class, it's skiing!"

She swatted his arm and he went to catch her wrist but she was too quick for him.

"See? Great reflexes!"

"Yeah, until you have to coordinate your legs and arms!"

She made a face and pushed off again, managing to ski at least twenty metres before falling on her ass again.

He sniggered and skied over to pick her up.

Four hours later they arrived back at the cabin. Nic had managed to ski a whole beginner run without falling over, and Casey's arm was tired from pulling her out of the snow. They left their skis and boots in the outside cupboard and stepped indoors to shed their ski wear.

Casey was just hanging up his jacket when a foot caught him behind the knee and he was suddenly on his back on the floor. He leapt to his feet, spinning to see the attacker, and realised it was Nic, who was standing in what would have been a fighting stance if she hadn't been struggling not to bend over laughing.

"That's for calling me uncoordinated!"

He laughed in disbelief. "I can't believe you just did that!"

"Well, you know, I got moves." She kicked off her ski pants, and he took the opportunity to lunge forward and grab her waist, but his hands closed on empty air as she spun away and landed a deliberately light roundhouse kick to his side.

What the hell? "What, you wanna play?" He asked.

She was still grinning but her fighting stance was strong this time. She inclined her head.

"Probably not a good idea," He cautioned. "I don't want to hurt you by mistake."

"You won't hurt me." Her voice was confident.

He hesitated for a moment, but he knew how to pull his punches, and it seemed she knew at least a few decent moves. He suddenly remembered her flipping him with her legs that first morning in LA. You should have worked it out then, buddy.

"Bring it on." He smirked.

Seconds later he was on his back again, thanks to a hooked ankle and a straight arm throw that didn't belong together in any martial art he was aware of, but proved surprisingly effective.

She'd made the mistake of not moving away fast enough though, and he brought her down with a leg sweep, but she recovered as she fell and caught herself on one hand, using the other to deliver a jab to his ribs. He leapt to his feet and landed a kick to her thigh as she sprang upright and caught him in the ribs again.

They were both hitting lightly, sparring not fighting, but it was becoming clear that they were pretty well matched.

In the end, Casey was able to use his superior strength to overpower her, but he was pretty sure she let him. He was above her, her arms pinned over her head and her legs locked in his. He felt her weight shift as if to throw him off, but then she grinned, relaxed, and three tapped the back of his hand with her fingers. He bent his head and kissed her hard, letting her hands go, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed close to him.

"Mmm. That was fun." She breathed into his mouth. "But now I really need that hot tub."

Casey's mouth went dry when she emerged onto the deck in a tiny rust coloured bikini. Sure, he'd seen her in her underwear plenty of times, but there was something about a bikini, especially when you were in a hot tub in a James Bond style ski cabin, and the woman wearing it had accessorised with a giant pair of snow boots and a furry hat.

"Wow. Come here."

She stepped out of the snow boots, and lowered herself deliberately slowly into the hot tub, letting the warm water slide over her skin. She settled herself opposite him, dimples in full force.

"I could so get used to this!"

"So could I." He growled.

She leaned forward and kissed him, and he was damned tempted to pull her onto his lap and have some fun, but there was a question he wanted answering first.

"Where did you learn to fight?"

She shrugged. "Oh, you know, around."

"Bullshit." His tone visibly startled her, just a fraction. Good. "I trained with my sensai for years, and I'm only fractionally better than you. Those weren't self defence class moves you pulled out in there."

She sighed. "Okay, you got me. It's kind of a long story though."

"I like those. Well, when you're telling them." He reached into the locker beside the tub and pulled out two glasses and a bottle of Irish whiskey. She accepted a glass and a generous shot, but declined his offer of a Cuban with a grin. He lit up and sat back. "Now tell me."

She knocked back her whiskey in one and held out her glass for a refill. "So I told you that my parents were pretty useless, right? They had one of those relationships that relies on conflict and passion and all of that, which was great for them I'm sure, but pretty terrible for a kid – not that they planned on ever having me, as my mother told me often enough." She rolled her eyes. "So when I was thirteen, they sent me to boarding school in London, basically to get me out of the way. But of course I was so used to taking care of myself that being in that kind of structured environment wasn't a great fit. You know that rebellious kid in school? The one who's never in class and spends all their time smoking behind buildings and getting into trouble?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I knew those kids."

"I bet you were a model student?" She smirked.

"I played football." He shrugged. "I guess I was always pretty disciplined. Focussed."

"Well I was the opposite of that." She took another gulp of whiskey. "So anyway, there was this pub we would go to in a sketchy area, that didn't care about ID, and one night when I'd just turned fifteen I was there on my own, had had a little too much to drink as usual, and some guy grabbed my arse. So I swore at him and smacked his hand away, and then he called me a little whore. Well I lost it, and I punched him out. I swear, one punch, he was down and out, jaw looked broken. First time I ever punched anyone, and I laid him out." She smirked just a little. "So I'm standing there, this guy at my feet, his gang of friends take a step towards me, the landlord starts roaring at them, it's all about to kick off, and suddenly this enormous mountain of a guy steps out from nowhere, throws me over his shoulder, and I'm kicking and screaming but his back was like solid rock, and he takes me out to the back yard and throws me on the ground, and I'm thinking I'm going to get a beating or something, but he's laughing. This huge guy with arms almost the size of my waist, just standing there laughing and laughing. And he says, 'My, my, kitten' in this thick accent. So I'm still really angry, you know, hiked up on adrenaline, so I take a swing at him, which of course was really stupid because he catches my hand, twists my arm up behind my back without any effort at all. And he's twisting pretty hard, and my shoulder's screaming with pain, but I wasn't going to show it, so I try kicking out at him instead, and he picks me up and throws me against the bins." She lifted her right leg out of the water and showed him the scar on her thigh again. "Misplaced nail, remember I told you?"

He nodded, absorbed in the story. He could just see her as a damaged, angry teenager, trying to take on someone three times her size.

"So I get up again, and I'm bleeding and a little dazed, and my shoulder is killing me, but there was no way in hell I'm going to lie down and take it, so I came at him again, limping, bleeding everywhere, trying to punch him with my left hand because I couldn't lift my right arm, and he stops laughing and looks at me really seriously, and he says 'Maybe not kitten. Maybe tiger cub.' And of course he dodges my punch, but then he ruffles my damn hair." She snorted with laughter. "And he says 'Come on cub, we go clean you up.' And that was how I met Yuri." She drained her whiskey and set the glass down on the side of the hot tub. She moved through the water to stand in front of him, and he slid his hands around her waist.

"Russian?" He growled. She rolled her eyes. "Mmm hmm, but as I'm younger than you..." She smirked, "The Cold War was over by then."

Casey grunted. "So who was he?"

"My sensai, I guess. Is that enough?"

He shook his head, and kissed her lightly, tasting whiskey and the unique taste that was just Nic, unable to resist briefly sliding his tongue into her mouth, caressing hers, but then pulling away before he gave in and hoisted her onto his lap.

"I want to hear it all." He sat back and puffed on his Cuban, and she refilled their glasses and settled herself back in her position opposite him.

"Okay, so it turned out that he owned the boxing gym next to the pub. Well, I say boxing, but it was everything really – just guys who knew how to fight and wanted to train. He took me in there and cleaned up my leg – he actually stitched it, four stitches, which fucking hurt I can tell you. You ever been stitched without anaesthetic?"

He nodded. "Few times."

She made a face. "Of course you have. Well I gritted my teeth and there was no way I was going to cry, and while he was doing it Yuri started telling me about when he had to stitch his own leg up once-" She paused. "I bet you've done that too, haven't you?"

Casey smirked and nodded. She sighed.

"You tough men. Anyway, he didn't tell me a lot, but he did tell me that he'd been in the military, and then he was a cage fighter, and now he trained people. And after he'd fixed my leg and iced my shoulder, he asked me what I was doing drinking alone in a pub like that, like he was my dad or something." She sipped her whiskey, a half smile on her face. "I honestly think it was the first time anyone ever seemed to give a shit about my safety. So I fell in love with him, right there. Not like that, I mean, more like… Well, yeah, a dad I suppose. And then he couldn't get rid of me."

Casey reached over and poured more whiskey into her glass, willing her to continue.

"He took my under his wing, I guess. Taught me to fight, told the guys at the club about me punching that dickhead out, so they started to teach me stuff too, bits and pieces of everything – boxing, aikido, judo, kickboxing, and good old dirty street fighting – but I got pretty good. Yuri made me go to school though. He told me he wouldn't let me hang out at the club unless I brought him my reports to show I was passing. It was a good time, a really good time." She paused. "For the first time in my life, I felt like I had a family." Her voice cracked slightly.

He held out his arms and she came into them.

"That's what I found in the Corps." He said, surprising himself by volunteering something personal again. "It's the kind of family people like us need."

She nodded against his chest. He settled her next to him, her legs resting on his lap, and fed her a sip of whiskey from his mouth, which made her laugh and kiss him softly.

"What happened next?" He asked.

"I turned sixteen, passed my exams – well most of them – and then school was over. And my parents sent me a plane ticket back to the States. And I showed Yuri and he tore it up for me." She smiled. "He cleared out one of the upstairs rooms at the club and turned it into my bedroom. And that was that. Home. A boxing club filled with rough, sweaty men." She smirked. "And people wonder why I'm so comfortable around the military."

Casey couldn't help laughing. "So you lived with him for how long?"

"I never really stopped, though I suppose once I started travelling a lot I was never really there. I have no idea where I would be now if it wasn't for him."

"Where is he now?"

"He died. I was twenty five. Broke my heart." She knocked back the rest of her whiskey. "Only man I ever loved-" She paused. "Well, until now, I guess."

Their eyes met, and Casey reached out and touched her face. A tear ran down her cheek and he caught it with his thumb.

She half smiled. "You said to me – that morning after the beach – that you didn't know how to do this. Well I don't have a fucking clue either. And it scares me. Is that stupid?"

He shook his head, "I'm fucking terrified."

And then, somehow, they both started to laugh.

The days settled into a comfortable pattern. They'd ski in the mornings, grab lunch at one of the restaurants on the piste, then fit in a couple more hours skiing in the afternoon before a few drinks at their favourite bar. They cooked dinner together in the evenings, they had mind blowing sex at any time of day, and they talked. In fact, Casey had never talked so much in his life. Stories, opinions, theories… They'd spent a whole afternoon getting drunk and trading the most off colour jokes they knew, and the revelation that Nic had the filthiest mouth he'd ever heard on a woman only made him want her more.

On the morning of their last day, they skied for a couple of hours, but when Nic headed back towards the chair lift he shook his head.

"I've got an errand to run. And actually, so do you."

She raised her eyebrow questioningly.

"I'm taking you out for dinner tonight, and you need to find something suitably spectacular to wear, because it is five star, and I will want to tear your dress off afterwards."

"Oh really?" She smirked. "Who says I'll be wearing a dress? Maybe I'll get myself a lady tux."

"You can get yourself anything you like." He kissed her. "But the less fabric the better as far as I'm concerned."

"Pervert."

"Takes one to know one." He ran a hand lightly over her ass, grabbing one more kiss as he did so.

It was the first time Nic had ever shut Casey out of the bedroom. She'd told him in no uncertain terms that he could change downstairs, because the bedroom was hers.

"If you want me to look five star appropriate, that's the price you pay."

It had been amusing at the time, but now that he was pacing about downstairs, his dinner suit feeling just a little more snug than the last time he'd worn it thanks to the muscle boosting effects of skiing and athletic sex, he was starting to feel nervous. He checked his pocket for the nth time, and was on the verge of pouring himself a large scotch when he heard movement on the mezzanine level above him, and Nic clearing her throat theatrically. He turned to see her at the top of the staircase and almost fell over at the sight.

She was wearing a knee-length midnight blue silk dress that clung lightly to every curve, completely simple and unadorned, her hair loose and her eyes enhanced with some kind of smoky shadow. On her feet were sky high silver heels, and she was holding a matching silver leather clutch.

"Will I do?" She was grinning down at him, enjoying his reaction. He swallowed hard, trying to recover his ability to speak.

"Stunning."

"Why thank you. You don't look too bad yourself." She descended the stairs carefully. ""Fucking heels." He heard her mutter under her breath and he snorted with laughter. Her eyes met his, full of mirth, and the spell was broken.

He kissed her, resting his hands on her waist. "Car's outside."

The restaurant, situated in the resort's highly exclusive five star hotel, was small and cosy, and their table was set in an alcove by a very well insulated window so that they could see out to the moonlit mountains.

"This is incredible." Nic acknowledged as she sipped a glass of ink dark red wine.

He nodded. "Of the two views on offer, I prefer you though."

She smiled and shook her head. "That was almost smooth there, John. I think the whole James Bond vibe is rubbing off on you."

"Must be the outfit." He sipped his own wine, gazing at her, his hand reaching towards his pocket. But the waiter appeared with a tray of amuse-bouches.

In fact, spectacular as the restaurant was, however delicious the food and wonderful the wine, it proved a miscalculation in terms of the opportunity for the conversation he wanted to have. Every time he opened his mouth to broach the subject, another damned waiter appeared for some reason or other. By the time they had finished dessert, he was on the verge of strangling the next smiling idiot who approached the table.

Nic laid down her fork and sighed with contentment. "That was amazing." She said with a smile, "But will it spoil your plans if I suggest we get out of here?"

"Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine. Great, actually, I just want to spend some time alone on our last night, and if I'm a hundred percent honest, I'd really like to take these heels off. You know, before you rip my dress off."

He reached for her hand across the table. "Sounds like a plan to me."

Nic kicked her heels off with obvious relief the minute they closed the cabin door behind them.

"Those things are instruments of torture. I know they're hot, but seriously. Even sitting down they were killing me!" She flopped onto the huge leather sofa and massaged her foot. Casey poured them both a scotch, and came and sat next to her, handing her a drink and pulling her feet into his lap.

"I can't believe this is our last night," She said softly. "In the morning we'll have to turn our phones back on and fly out of here, and it will be over."

"I know." He squeezed her feet. "I don't want it to end either."

"I'm not sure-" She stopped.

"What?" He asked.

"I don't know if I can go back to how things were before. Before this I mean, before us." She looked at him, her mouth trembling slightly. "I don't mean work, I love my work, I just mean, I feel like I might want a place to come home to now. Or, a person…" She trailed off, then quickly added. "You, I mean you, just in case that wasn't-"

He stopped her with a kiss.

"It's okay, I know." He felt in his pocket again, and this time he didn't hesitate. He knew what he wanted to say, and she'd already said most of it for him.

"I don't want to go back to the way things were before either. I want to be your home, for us to be each other's home, wherever we might be in the world. You were right what you said when Ellie called you my girlfriend – that isn't a definition that really applies to us. I don't know how we do define ourselves, but I want to give you this."

He drew the small leather box out of his pocket, opening the lid to show the ring inside. "It's not a question, it's just a gift."

She leant forward, her eyes wide, and lifted the ring from the box. It was a gold signet ring with an intricate design of an anchor, a globe and an eagle etched on it.

"My mom gave it to me when I joined the Marines. It's the symbol for the Corps." She nodded in recognition as he continued. "It's pretty much the only thing I kept when I joined special ops. It's sat in one uniform pocket or another for years."

She looked up at him, her eyes swimming with tears.

"I took it to the jewellers today, had them resize it. It should fit." He gently took the ring from her and slid it onto the ring finger of her left hand. The tears spilled over and she buried her face in her hands. He suddenly felt worried. What if he'd misjudged it? But she wiped her eyes and smiled at him, caressing the ring with her fingers.

"Are you sure? I mean, this must be precious to you."

"You're precious to me. That's why I want you to have it. I want us to be together." He shrugged. "That's it."

She launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. He held her tightly.

"I love you." Her voice was muffled against his shirt.

He kissed the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her. She shifted slightly in his lap, trying to straddle him, but her dress was too tight. She raised her head and looked him in the eye, her mouth quirking into a smile.

"Will you unzip this damned dress please?"

He kissed her as he slid the zipper down with one hand, caressing the exposed skin of her back with the other. Her arms were still around his neck, and he tasted the remnants of her tears on her lips. He undid her bra and slid his hand inside to caress her breast, gently tugging her nipple, making her moan softly.

She slid one hand down to his chest, undoing the buttons of his shirt. He had already loosened his tie, and she threw it over her shoulder, pushing his shirt open, bending to kiss his chest. As she tried to pull his shirt off, however, she was prevented by his cufflinks. At the same time, he was struggling with the logistics of removing dress and bra when the two seemed to be somehow interlinked. He felt a laugh building in his chest, and tried desperately to suppress it. Surely this wasn't the moment. But then he caught her eye and saw her lips pressed tightly together, and they both burst out laughing.

He wasn't sure if it was the release of tension, happiness, or just them, but he was howling with laughter and so was she. His shirt was caught around his wrists, her dress and bra were hanging awkwardly from one shoulder, and they were both laughing so hard they were doubled over.

"Oh god," She gasped. "We are so not five star people!" She stood up and managed to wriggle the dress down, dropping it on the floor along with her bra and panties.

Casey had managed to get his cufflinks undone and shirt off, and he followed suit and shed the rest of his clothes as well. Still hiccupping slightly with laughter, she pushed him back onto the couch and straddled him.

"Finally!"

She caught his face between her hands and kissed him deeply, quelling their laughter. He caressed her breasts, her ass, enjoying the feeling of her gently rocking against him as he hardened between her legs and felt her growing wetness coating him.

He lifted her gently and tilted her hips, slowly sliding into her as she moaned against his mouth. She moved slowly on him, opening up around him, pressing her breasts against his chest as they continued to kiss. In unspoken agreement they took it slowly, drawing it out, holding each other close, lips locked together. Casey had a strange sense of time being suspended, the world reduced to the space occupied by their joined bodies. He could feel the cool metal band of his ring on her finger pressed against his cheek.

He felt her start to tremble, and could tell she was trying to hold off, trying to prolong it further. He slid a hand between their bodies and brushed her sweet spot with his thumb.

"It's okay," He murmured raggedly against her mouth. "It's okay."

She threw her head back, letting go, coming hard around him, and he followed her over the edge, gasping with the release. He kissed her throat, her collarbones, letting the tremors subside, feeling the world rushing back in.

He looked into her velvety eyes and said the very two words he had absolutely planned not to.

"Marry me."

COMING UP in Chapter 11:

"This place is too full of ghosts…"