Free CA 35 Christmas Past by Debra Webb

eyes. “You’d better make sure you know what you’re
asking.”
                His gaze was steady on
hers, real and open. “I know exactly what I’m asking.”
                “Then the answer is
yes.” She shoved a chunk of enchilada into her mouth. Her eyes closed and she
moaned with delight.
                They ate. They laughed.
She wasn’t ready to go but the restaurant was closing.
                Even the cold air felt
somehow warm when they walked to the car. She hadn’t felt like this, ever. Not
over a guy. Maybe over a career accomplishment, but never
over a guy.
                This one was nice. Truly nice. Smart. And he loved all the outdoor activities
she loved.
                Was there nothing they
didn’t have in common?
                The answer was yes.
They didn’t have the whole truth in common.
                He’d been totally
honest with her the last twenty-four hours.
                And she was still lying
about why she was here and where she worked.
                When he’d parked in the
garage at the lodge, she sat still for a few moments, her eyes closed. She
wanted to hold on to this feeling a little longer. It wouldn’t be long until it
would be over…He would have to know the truth.
                And those warm, fuzzy
feelings he had for her would be gone for good.
                He opened her door and
she turned to look at him. “I could sleep right here, I think. I’m beat.”
                “Come on.” He offered
his hand to help her out. “We’ll unpack all this gear tomorrow. We have
champagne waiting.”
                That was something else
she loved. She wasn’t much of a beer drinker. Or cocktails,
either, for that matter. A nice wine, bubbly and sweet, that was her
weakness. He had, without knowing it, touched on another of her favorites.
                As usual the lobby and
bar area were brimming with activity. Skiers and hikers
sharing their adventures of the day. The occasional leg or arm cast
could be spotted where someone had taken a nasty spill.
                “Jason Fewell !”
                A chill rushed up
Molly’s spine.
                “Keep walking,” Jason
whispered.
                They’d almost made it
to the elevators when three camera-wagging dirtbags and a reporter caught up with them. Molly recognized the one as a reporter
since he was the one shouting questions.
                “Any comment on today’s
headlines?”
                Jason stabbed the call
button, and didn’t respond.
                “I see you’re getting
along with your babysitter.”
                Dread detonated inside
Molly.
                The elevator doors slid
open and Molly tugged at his arm. “Let’s go.”
                But he didn’t budge. He
turned back to the reporter. “What the hell are you talking about?”
                And that was the
beginning of the end.
               
                CHAPTER EIGHT
     
                Christmas
Eve, 9:00 a.m.
     
                YOU LIED TO ME.
                The words kept echoing
in Molly’s head.
                She stared at the
champagne now floating in a pool of water in the ice bucket.
                Jason had left the
lodge last night and he hadn’t come back. The concierge’s staff had packed his
belongings and taken them away.
                Molly had tried to
explain that, yes, she had misled him. That his team owner had hired her to
come here and see that he didn’t get hurt.
                But that was before.
                Before
she’d known the man behind the name.
                Before she’d let her
heart get involved.
                He hadn’t