by Zara Chase
“What happens at the landing point?” Chelsea asked.
“I shall touch down in the center of the road. You all need to duck your heads when you leave the ’copter, if you want them to remain attached to your shoulders, that is. Stan will unload your gear the moment we get there and set it up clear of the chopper so you don’t get blown away by the downwash. As soon as you’re clear, I’ll be off. Otherwise the rotor will set off a snowstorm which you won’t thank me for. You’ll follow Stan down lovely virginal powder until you eventually get to the lift network, and then you’re on your own. Darcy, our photographer, will be at the top of the highest lift to get video of you guys carving your way down. She’s pretty neat at what she does, so if you call into Hadleigh’s tonight you’ll be able to see yourselves on the big screen.”
“Sounds cool,” Chelsea said.
“I don’t want to be filmed,” Klaus said, scowling.
“Nor me,” his buddy echoed.
“It’s okay.” Jack held out a placating hand. “No one’s going to force you into buying a copy of the footage if you’d prefer not to. But it is the school’s policy to record all heliskiers, if only to encourage others to give it a go.”
The Dutchmen continued to scowl.
“Now, anyone need the facilities?” Jack pointed to the restroom in the corner of the office. Predictably, both men shook their heads but Chelsea took up the offer.
* * * *
Chelsea didn’t need the bathroom but she did need a moment to herself to think things through. So far everything had not gone according to plan. The Dutchmen had showed no interest in her and seemed annoyed that she’d tagged along. So much for my feminine wiles, she thought with a wry smile. The other difficulty she had was the pilot, Jack Gower. He had no business being quite such a hunk. At five eight, she was tall, but Jack had a good six inches on her. His body, what she could see of it beneath that sheepskin flying jacket, was all hard, unyielding muscle. He was a guy who took care of himself. Thick light brown hair spilled over his collar and wicked green eyes came alight with apparent appreciation whenever he looked at her. Ought to be a law against it, she thought moodily. How was a girl supposed to concentrate on the job in hand with that sort of distraction to…well, to distract her?
Jack was an inveterate flirt and probably didn’t have to work too hard to get into a girl’s panties. The dampness seeping into Chelsea’s own underwear was confirmation enough. It had been a while since any man had made such a thumping impact upon the bits of her over which she had no control. If only the more important evidence—the evidence she was here to collect—could be so easily amassed. Still, one thing she already knew. When it came to Jack, she needed to be on her guard and not get swept along by a handsome face and her own body’s reaction to it. Damn, she needed to get laid! But that wasn’t what she’d been sent to Nevella for.
Hold that thought.
The question she needed an answer to, she told her reflection as she tugged a brush through her hair, was whether or not Jack was involved with the Dutchmen. And if not, would he accept a bribe to help them out? The sort of bribe they’d be able to offer would be tough for most men to resist, given how little risk there would be for Jack. She didn’t know him well enough to be able to judge the degree of his moral fiber. Which, she decided, left only one avenue open to her.
She would just have to get to know him better.
Earn his trust, be invited into his personal space, and see what shook loose. She might be a sexual desert drawn to his oasis, but she was also a consummate professional and wouldn’t let anything get in the way of her assignment. She thought of the extortionate cost of the care her grandmother needed and the size of the bonus that would come her way if she was successful. That ought to keep her mind on the job in hand. Besides, it was a matter of pride with her never to fail at anything she set her mind to achieving.
“Okay, if there are no more questions, let’s do this,” Jack said when Chelsea emerged from the bathroom.
The skiers donned their outdoor gear, changed into ski boots, and clumped awkwardly across the helipad.
“I’ve got it,” Jack said, swinging Chelsea’s skis over his shoulder and leading the way to his helicopter. It was painted bright red and had blue-and-white vertical stripes running down its tail. Chelsea felt her guts rumble with anxiety. She was game for most things but that flimsy machine looked…well, awfully flimsy.
“Don’t worry,” Jack said, grinning. “So far I can boast an even number of takeoffs and landings.”
“So far,” she echoed, filled with a combination of doubt and anticipation.
Jack chuckled as he loaded her skis and poles into the exterior basket besides the chopper’s skids. Klaus and Yannick followed suit and then, without waiting to be told, climbed into the backseat of their transportation. Jack looked at Chelsea, shrugged, and opened the right-hand side front door for her.
“Grab the handhold at the side of the door and pull yourself up, darlin’,” he said. “Unless you need a push from behind, that is.”
“I’ve got it,” she replied, wondering what he would have done if she’d taken him up on his invitation.
She could hear a smile in his voice, like he’d interpreted the nature of her thoughts and found them amusing. Well, of course he had! A man who looked like he did would have wall-to-wall women more than ready to have their arses manhandled.
“Need to put your legs either side of my cyclic,” he said, grinning as he pointed to a long lever that was positioned right where she wanted to put her legs. “It vibrates once we get airborne,” he added so only she could hear him.
She shot him a lifted eyebrow look but had no choice but to do as he asked. Once she was settled, he helped her to buckle up, his fingers loitering a little longer than was necessary on the buckle that spanned her middle. With another of his annoyingly knowing smiles, he turned away and cast a cursory eye over the guys in the back to make sure they’d fastened themselves in. He then walked around to his side of the bird, climbed aboard, and donned headphones with a microphone attached, through which he could communicate with his passengers. Chelsea put hers on as well but the Dutch didn’t bother. Jack shrugged, implying it was their choice.
“Earth to Chelsea,” Jack said, grinning as he flipped switches and went through his pre-takeoff routine. “You okay there?”
“Fine.” It was no hardship to smile at him, even though she was only doing so for professional reasons. Why else would she? “I’m looking forward to this.”
“You done it before?”
“I’ve done a lot of off-piste stuff but never from a helicopter. In fact, it’s my first time up in one.”
“A virgin, huh?” That damned sexy smile again. The limitations she’d placed on the relationship she planned to have with him were, she could already tell, going to be challenging to stick to. “Ask me nicely and I might give you a private aerial tour of the country.”
“Now why would you want to do that?”
Jack winked at her from behind his Ray-Bans. “I can’t think of a single reason,” he said as he lifted the ’copter smoothly from its pad. But don’t worry, something will occur to me.”
Chelsea bit her lip to stop herself laughing at his corny lines. No point being too much of a pushover. She gasped as the helicopter dipped forward as it took to the air, sending her stomach lurching and making her regret the pastry she’d just wolfed down.
“This is amazing,” she said when she opened her eyes again and looked down at the village spread below them like a snow-covered patchwork quilt.
“Glad you like it.”
Chelsea didn’t like it. She loved everything about it. There was just something about being in this noisy tin machine and placing her life in Jack’s capable hands that fulfilled an unidentified need within her. She loved taking risks. In her line of work, that was a given. She loved the rush she got from driving race cars, competing at martial arts and, of course, off-piste skiing. But this was in ano
ther league. If she could afford it, she’d qualify as a chopper pilot herself. It was the ultimate rush.
Remembering what she was supposed to be doing, she glanced over her shoulder at the guys in the backseat, more convinced than ever that she was right about them. They were annoyed to have her tagging along, at having to have a guide, and at the prospect of being videoed. She could see them now, arguing with one another in some sort of silent shorthand. They couldn’t talk over the noise of the rotors but there was a lot of hand gesturing going on.
Chelsea turned back to enjoy the view of the scenery below them, to say nothing of the pilot’s rugged profile. All too soon, Jack brought the chopper down to a smooth landing on what seemed like the top of the world.
“There we go,” he said to her, leaning across to unfasten her harness. She allowed it, even though she was perfectly capable of releasing it herself. Playing the part of the helpless, passive female had never sat well with Chelsea but, needs must. “Go and have a great time. Take care and don’t forget to call into Hadleigh’s tonight. I’ll have a glass of wine with your name on it waiting for you.”
The Dutchmen were already out of the machine, not even bothering to thank Jack for the ride, and were locking into their skis.
“Thanks, Jack,” she said, treating him to her most devastating smile. “That was awesome, as they say on your side of the pond.”
“My pleasure. Have fun.”
The moment Chelsea had cleared the spinning rotor, Jack lifted the bird smoothly from the road and was soon just a red spec on the horizon.
“Time to go back to work,” she muttered as Stan introduced himself and helped her to lock into her own skis. She followed the others to the top of a pristine mountain covered in virginal snow and launched herself over the edge.
Chapter Two
The six American residents at Hadleigh’s always used to have a drink together every night before the doors opened and the place was mobbed with the thirty après-ski throng out for a good time. But since Ward had hooked up with Tanya, Ross with Darcy and now Rick had found Sabine it was rare when all six guys kept that date.
Tanya, Darcy, and Sabine now lived at Hadleigh’s, too, and played with their guys in the private dungeon—access by invitation only. None of the revelers in the bar were aware of its existence and that was just the way Leo wanted it to stay.
Leo, Tyrell, and Jack were still happily single, but Jack found himself increasingly envious of his three buddies. Jack was a determinedly no-strings-attached cynic, adamantly opposed to monogamy because trust was a two-way street and no one close to him had ever given him any reason to trust. Perhaps that was why he’d lost interest so quickly in his latest sub. They had amicably agreed to a parting of the ways some weeks previously and Jack had yet to find a replacement. Last night’s drinking extravaganza with Leo, despite what Judy seemed to think, had been an exception to the rule. Nowadays he was more likely to be tucked up in bed early with a good book—morose, restless—wondering if this was as good as it got. Aware something was missing from his life and no idea where to look for it.
He’d had a good sleep that afternoon and had just emerged from the shower. He pulled on a worn pair of jeans—no underwear necessary—and a white shirt, open at the throat, sleeves rolled back. He ran a brush through his hair, pushed his feet into his favorite boots, and made his way downstairs, curious to see if Chelsea would put in an appearance. It didn’t usually matter to him if his customers showed or not. They almost always did, if only to see themselves on the big screen or, in the case of the women, to hit on him, Tyrell, or their favorite target, Leo.
“Ain’t gonna happen, Leo buddy,” he muttered as he ran down the stairs. “This one’s all mine.”
To his surprise, when he reached the bar, everyone else was on parade, women in tow. Leo handed Jack an open bottle of beer and he raised it in salute to his friends before taking a good pull of its contents.
“What’s the occasion?” he asked.
“Does there have to be one?” Darcy replied.
“We don’t do this enough,” Rick added.
“Don’t look at us,” Jack said, indicating himself, Leo, and Tyrell. “We don’t have live-in distractions like you lucky bastards.”
“Getting broody, Jack?” Sabine asked, grinning at him.
Ty scratched his head. “Can men get broody? I thought that was a feminine domain.”
“Beats the hell out of me.” Jack shrugged and pointed his bottle towards Ward. “But you, my friend, are in deep shit.”
“Me?” Ward feigned innocence. “What did I do?”
“It’s more a case of what you didn’t do.” Jack realized when it was too late to back down that he’d raised the subject that had gotten them all on parade. He’d been set up.
“Oh, Chelsea, you mean?” Ward grinned. So did everyone else, confirming Jack’s suspicions. “What, and spoil the surprise?”
“Bastards!” Jack muttered.
“I’m looking forward to meeting this one,” Ty remarked. “She sounds like quite a babe.”
Jack glowered at him. “Get in line.”
“You owe me ten bucks,” Leo told Ross.
“You guys have been running a book?” Jack pretended to be offended. “Geez!”
“We’re worried about you,” Tanya said, squeezing Jack’s free hand. “You haven’t been yourself recently. All withdrawn and…well, moody.”
“I am not moody,” Jack protested. “Women are moody. Real men have pensive periods.”
“We stand corrected,” Tanya said with faux repentance.
Leo nodded to the barman to open the doors. A healthy queue had already formed outside. “Game time,” he said. “Let’s see if your Chelsea graces us with her presence.”
“She’s a good skier,” Darcy remarked. “The two guys she skied with weren’t cutting her any slack. In fact, they looked like they were trying to lose her, but she stayed with them the entire time. I think they got pissed off by her tenacity.”
“Yeah, I thought that, too,” Ward said. “I had a class up on the black run when they joined it from off-piste. Anyone who does the run they’d just completed without breaking bones is usually euphoric. Chelsea sure was but those two Dutch guys seemed indifferent. Colder than the conditions, they were. Can’t say I took to them.”
“Chelsea hung around in the ski school afterwards,” Ross added. “But I didn’t see hide nor hair of the other two. Hadn’t thought much about it before now, but you’re right, Ward, there’s something not quite right about those two.”
“Yeah,” Jack said, kicking the foot rail that surrounded the bar. “They’re jerks.”
The bar was already four-deep and Leo’s barmen were struggling to keep up with demand. The DJ had started up the music, which was too loud to allow for much conversation. The usual surge of people descended upon their group. Leo fended off the predatory women who flocked around him with his customary charm, but Jack was surprised when, having seen the evening safely under way, he didn’t seek shelter in the private area of Hadleigh’s.
Then Jack saw a statuesque woman with a waterfall of strawberry blonde hair walk through the door like she owned the place and lost interest in everything else.
“Shit, Jack,” Leo said, looking in the same direction. “If that’s her, I can see why she’s got you all steamed up.”
“Who said anything about being steamed up?”
“Lucky guess.” Leo chuckled. “You think she’s a player?”
Jack shrugged as he raised a hand to attract Chelsea’s attention. “Doubt it, but a guy can live in hope.”
* * * *
Chelsea got a real rush from the heliskiing, so much so that she almost forgot why she was doing it. Almost. The determination of Klaus and Yannick to ignore her to the point of rudeness firmed up her suspicions about them. She was definitely on the right trail. Ha! So much for Rob thinking he was sending her on a wild-goose chase. She’d show the arrogant sod just how good she actu
ally was at her job and snatch that bonus from under his nose.
Still on a high following the off-piste adventure, Chelsea went back to her hotel, tired but too hyped up to rest. She was now convinced that the Dutchmen were up to their grubby little necks in bad deeds. But conviction wasn’t enough. She needed hard evidence. And the question still remained, was Jack Gower their willing accomplice? Chelsea was surprised by how disappointed she would be if that turned out to be the case. He was an outrageous flirt, but there was something about him that appealed to her over and above his physical perfection. In her line of work, it was necessary for Chelsea to be a good judge of character and she’d never permitted her heart to rule her head before.
She didn’t intend to start now.
Chelsea fired up her laptop and looked for any background information she could find on Jack Gower. There was nothing at all about his life before his arrival in Nevella a couple of years previously, which she found odd. Upon fetching up in sleepy Nevella, he started up the helicopter service in Medina Village in association with Leo Hadleigh and with the backing of the powerful Padron family who owned the valley. He did heliskiing in the winter and the aerial tours he’d told her about in the summer. There was a picture of his smiling face, posing alongside the same helicopter he’d taken her up in that day.
“Handsome brute,” she muttered, wondering why she couldn’t find out anything about his background. It seemed as though he’d flown below the radar, to borrow a phrase from his profession, before coming to Europe. That made her suspicious. Criminals invented new backgrounds for themselves. Criminals, people running from something, or those with something to hide.
