Chapter 2

Rinsing off his razor, Remington tapped it on the side of the sink then laid it on the counter to dry. Running a hand over cheeks and chin, he gave the quick shave his approval and dried his face with the nearby towel. A couple of pats of aftershave later and he left the bathroom, retrieving his turtleneck from where it lay on the bed in wait of him. Tugging it over his head and tucking in, he sat down on the edge of the bed to put on his ski boots, his mind wandering, as it had much of the prior evening before he called it an early night.

He'd baited Laura into a trip to Aspen, that was true enough. It seemed the fates were determined they would never spend some true, quality time alone together, where business or the outside world, in general, couldn't interrupt… or be use as a buffer between them. Over the years she'd dismissed, out of hand, his numerous invitations for a vacation to one exotic locale or another. The one trip she'd accepted, a brief visit to Catalina, had, of course, been foiled by business in the form of Mildred's nephew, Bernard, and his hooker friend, Clarissa. Then had come the disastrous European tour with her Glee Club alumni association, his own actions demolishing any chance at finally consummating this relationship of theirs, while leaving their personal relationship in ruins.

By the time the thaw began, he'd grown almost desperate to have her, at length, wholly to himself, going so far as to devise a fake case in San Francisco. Thwarted again, when that fake case became a real one. A suggestion of a Hawaiian vacation had been shockingly accepted, only for yet another case… then the damnable weather… to interfere.

He'd finally come to the conclusion, the only way he'd steal her away was by forcing her own hand. For there were two things Laura Holt had absolutely no ability to resist: A case and a dare.

God knew, the woman certainly could resist him.

He'd truly begun to believe his little gambit had worked. She'd officially closed the office for a week – a full, glorious week! – had purchased round trip, open return tickets, lift tickets, ski's, ski wear.

Then once more providence had enjoyed a good laugh at his expense with her fall down the stairs. A gimpy ankle, his nemesis this time.

Thus, here he was… alone.

Again.

Well, if one didn't consider Mildred, who was currently ensconced in Laura's room, a floor below his own. As much as he adored his motherly figure, the simple fact of the matter was: She wasn't Laura.

By the time he and Mildred had arrived last evening, he'd mulled himself into a solid sulk – a sulk only worsened at check-in when the clerk announced their room assignments. So, a trip it was to be, but with no plans to further this relationship, those reservations had fairly screamed.

His mood had spiraled further downwards.

Until he recalled her words to him at the Devil's Playground.

"Do you know how romantic, how exciting, how much fun it would have been sneaking into one another's rooms?"

His mood had perked up at that memory. Oh, he'd had an enjoyable time, for a spell, indulging the fantasies that memory had inspired. Laura, knocking softly at his door, wrapped in one of those dowdy robes she seemed to favor; slowly untying the sash, once the door closed behind her, then allowing the garment to slowly fall to the floor, revealing a silk and lace gown that clung to the curves of her luscious little body.

He, charming a desk clerk out of the key to her room, sneaking in, and waking her in the most tantalizing of ways.

Mmmm, yes, he'd had a wonderful time for a bit indulging himself in those fantasies…

Until his body had reminded him what a useless… and frustrating… endeavor it was. And a perpetually frustrated libido, such as his own, could only take so much.

So, he'd retired to the open gathering area just past the lobby. With a good brandy in hand, he sat before the fire, pondering his plans for the following day. True enough, he'd attracted his share of attention from women whom would have once whetted his appetite: the tall, willowy brunette; the voluptuous blonde; the well-endowed, tiny wasted raven haired beauty, amongst others. He'd offered not a one of them encouragement, for he'd long ago discovered the only woman that could possibly sate the gnawing need in his gut was a petite brunette, with expressive brown eyes, enticing freckles and captivating temper.

So, rather than participate in further polite but disinterested conversation, he'd taken himself off to bed.

With a sigh, and a sweep of splayed hand over his face, he stood and shrugged the suspenders of his ski pants over his shoulders, then grabbed the matching jacket off the chair by the door. He looked around the room a final time then departed. The hour was earlier than he normally preferred, but he liked to hit the slopes while the powder was fresh. After a few hours of schussing the slopes, he'd indulge in a good lunch someplace warm. And from there? He'd allow the day to decide how it played out on its own.

But first, a strong cup of tea and good breakfast.

He spied Mildred across the dining room when he entered. Even if he hadn't, her call to him and wave would certainly have caught his attention.

"Boss! Over here!"

Crossing the room, he leaned down and bussed her on the cheek.

"Good morning, darling," he greeted. "Up and about early, are you?"

"First ski class at eight," she smiled, as she took a bite of her nearly finished breakfast. "I warned those characters at the desk I better not find myself stuck in a class full of children, too." She pointed her fork at him for emphasis, then paused when the waitress arrived and he gave his order. "Turns out," she picked right back off, as though they'd never been interrupted, "They have a class for sen-… adults, which all but guarantees I'll be on the easier slopes by tomorrow afternoon." She took another bite of her food, then lay her fork on the plate and shoved it away. "What about you, Boss? What's on your calendar for the day?"

"Thought I'd take a few runs down the green slopes of Ajax this morning," he replied, using the local lingo for Aspen Mountain. "Once I get my legs under me, I'll try my hand at some of the blue." He shrugged a careless shoulder. "After that, we'll just see how the day plays out." Mildred stood and dropped her napkin on the table, then picked up her tab.

"Maybe we'll catch up to one another tonight, then." A wicked grin spread across her face. "Unless I meet someone." She gave him a waggled of her brows that left him chuckling as she departed.

He wolfed down his food when it arrived, anxious not only to get on the slopes but to put an end to the waves, smiles and coy glances from both women he'd met the evening prior and ones he'd not seen before.

And, when not politely dismissing those trying to garner his attention, his thoughts were on a certain young woman back in LA, wondering what she might be doing right now and how very different things would be if she were there with him.