Free Snowbound Heart by Jennifer Blake Page A

the way, they would be able to dress for dinner in comfort, and then, after dinner, Logan would not have to drive back out to his house over roads in uncertain condition. In addition, Clare would not have to ask Beverly and John to undertake the same trouble and risk.
    The trouble could not be minimized. By the time Logan had zipped his clothing into a travel bag and carried it with Clare’s suitcase out to the car, clouds had closed down over the tops of the mountains once more. Before they reached the main road toward Aspen, snow mixed with icy rain had begun to fall.
    The town of Aspen was founded in 1879 by a group of men prospecting in the hills for silver. Originally called Ute City, it was renamed a few months later by B. Clark Wheeler, a promoter who helped to turn the collection of tents and log cabins into a boom town. Millions in silver were taken from the hillsides in the following decade; then, in 1893, silver was demonetized. The mines closed, but the Victorian town remained at eight thousand feet, high in the mountains, a perfect setting for a ski resort. The possibilities of the fine slopes and deep powder snow had not been lost on the miners. The first skis had been unloaded in Aspen in 1880. The sport only began to receive serious attention, however, just before World War II. It was not until long after the war, however, in 1957, that Aspen really began to come into its own.
    This much of the background of the area Clare had been able to glean from the guidebook she had studied before she left home. Now, as she and Logan entered Aspen itself, she looked about her was interest. It was not a large town, but it was a pleasant one. The streets were wide and well-marked, the buildings a blend of nineteenth-century carpenter’s Gothic, Swiss Alpine complete with Christmas motifs, and sharp-angled modern. Since all three styles favored the use of wood rather than masonry, they coexisted comfortably. Summer and winter visitors were the mainstay of the economy. Because of this it was not unnatural that most businesses were oriented toward their wants and needs. Specialty shops of all types abounded, from jewelry and glassware to ski rentals. In the center of town there was a shopping mall cobbled with brick and featuring small elegant shops with charming Victorian facades.
    It was an experience walking into a hotel with Logan Longcross, something Clare intended to remember for a long time. Logan stepped out of the car and held the door for her. Glancing at the doorman, he smiled his slow smile. Immediately, heads turned, people appeared to take their bags, to park the car, to swing the heavy glass doors of the hotel open. A growing murmur of voices followed them to the desk in the lobby. The clerk behind the counter looked up, his frown a signal of the unlikelihood of their receiving a room without a reservation at that season. Looking again, he changed his mind. He even discovered, after a hurried consultation with the manager, that two rooms were available, one for Mr. Longcross, one across the hall for his fiancee.
    As they were closed into the elevator with a bemused bellhop clutching the handle of a luggage carrier, a pair of gray-haired matrons with wide eyes leaned with the closing door to catch the last possible glimpse of the actor, Clare glanced at Logan as they moved soundlessly upward, one brow lifted expressively. He grinned at her with a flash of white teeth and gave a slow shake of his head. “Sometimes it has its uses,” he said.
    In her room, Clare took off her coat, threw it with her tote bag into a chair, and moved to the telephone. She had no trouble getting through to Beverly. Her friend’s rapturous greeting was quickly followed by a demand to know where she was and what had happened. Clare, leaning back against the headboard of the bed on which she was seated, told her.
    “What did you say?”
    Clare had to smile at the blank incomprehension in Beverly’s voice. It was all she could do