Free Her Secret Agent Man by Cindy Dees Page B

pulled out a pair of mirrored shades and slipped them on, neatly covering his gaze. He grinned, sharklike, and set off down the mountain. At first, it was smooth going, a wide expanse of snow over the gradual slope of a glacier. The occasional mogul and gully made it an intermediate-or-so slope.
    But then the trail split. He turned his skis sideways, skidding to a stop and throwing up a rooster tail of powder. “Do you like to live dangerously?” he asked her.
    Why the heck not. She was a dead woman walking, anyway. “Sure,” she retorted.
    He set off to the left, choosing one more isolated route after another. She followed him downward as the mountain got steadily steeper and trickier. Without warning, Dutch significantly picked up the speed. He let his skis race flat out over the snow. She crouched in a racer’s tuck to eke out every last bit of speed from her own skis to keep up with him. The slope leveled out, but with their accumulated speed, they managed to keep momentum over the wide, flat area. She’d just started to pole her way forward when Dutch looked over his shoulder.
    “How are you at jumps?” he called.
    “Not great, but I’ve done a few,” she shouted back.
    “Lean back and stay vertical!” he instructed.
    And then he disappeared over the edge of a cliff. Without any more warning than that, her skis dropped out from under her and she plunged over the edge of a nearly vertical drop. Had Dutch not said something, she’d no doubt have broken her neck.
    As it was, her adrenaline surged and she struggled to keep her weight back as the slope fell away from her in a dizzyingdescent. She mimicked Dutch, twisting her skis from side to side as she dropped from ledge to snowy ledge. She dodged a nasty rock outcropping and kept on going, doggedly following his red back down the impossible slope.
    When her legs were screaming in protest and her nerves at the breaking point, the near cliff gave way to a gentler slope and heavy woods. Dutch pulled up short and waited for her to join him. She schussed over the last couple of moguls and swiveled to a stop beside him.
    “Lady, you are one hell of a skier,” he panted.
    She nodded back, too out of breath from the exertion and the altitude to speak.
    “Well, that was fun. Took care of a whole lot of my pent-up energy,” Dutch huffed. “How ’bout you?”
    She spared a glance over her shoulder for the mountain they’d just traveled, and shuddered. It looked like a nearly vertical cliff, peppered with rock outcroppings and drops. Not the kind of hill approved for any human in their right mind to ski down.
    “I must have a death wish to have followed you down that monster,” she panted.
    “No doubt. You called me, didn’t you?” he retorted.
    Good point. She’d never considered herself much of a risk taker. The one time in her life, ten years ago, that she’d done something dangerous, it had turned into a total nightmare and a man had died. Ever since, she’d sworn off anything more exciting than transferring funds from bank to bank to hide their origin. Until the last few weeks that led her back to Dutch.
    “C’mon,” Dutch said behind her. “I’m hungry.”
    Dutch picked a medium-difficulty, scenic route through the woods. It felt like a walk in the park after that cliff of doom. The snow slid like velvet beneath her feet, soft and sleek asthey skied between towering stands of pine and aspen. Dutch stayed beside her, matching his speed to hers. He was smooth and powerful and flowed down the mountain as if he’d been born on it. For a little while, she put aside their dangerous dance of cross-purposes and lost herself in the freedom of gliding between the majestic rows of snowbound trees. They came out onto a prepared ski run. Although the snow wasn’t groomed, it was clear that this broad path through the trees was artificial.
    A few minutes later, Dutch surprised her by veering off onto a remote side trail. It was a narrow, winding course that