Susan Carlisle

Snowbound with Dr Delectable


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      Snowbound with

      Dr Delectable

      Susan Carlisle

      

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

       Dear Reader

      My family has enjoyed a snow-skiing holiday each year for over twenty years. It is a sport that we all love and something that we enjoy doing as a family. My youngest child began skiing when he was only four, and we are now taking our third generation of skiers to the slopes.

      During our last trip to the mountains I began thinking about what a wonderful setting the ski resort would be for a romance. There is nothing more breathtaking than riding a ski-lift among treetops tipped in white, while big fat snowflakes drift down and silence surrounds you. This screamed romance to me.

      Hence Baylie and Kyle’s story was born. They are two souls tortured by their fears. Everyone has fears—both rational and irrational—but Baylie and Kyle have let their fears define them and stop them from living life to the fullest. During their work together on the Courtesy Patrol, and through their love for each other, can they learn to live with their fears?

      I’d like to thank Robin Visintin of the Courtesy Patrol at Snowshoe, West Virginia, for all her invaluable help. you and your group of volunteers make my family feel welcome every year.

      I hope you enjoy reading Baylie and Kyle’s snowy Christmas romance on the slopes as much as I enjoyed writing it. I love to hear from my readers. You can find me at www.SusanCarlisle.com

      Merry Christmas!

       Susan

       DEDICATION

      To my daughter, Mary Beth.

      Your mother loves you.

      Table of Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

      Dedication

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Copyright

       CHAPTER ONE

      DR. KYLE CAMPBELL stepped reluctantly into what at best could be called controlled chaos. The banging of skis against the floor and the clanking as they hit each other when propped against the wall was painfully familiar.

      He stood in the doorway of the courtesy ski patrol building at the Snow Mountain Resort in West Virginia the weekend before Christmas. The early-morning wind buffeted his back and a blast of cold whirled by him. Why had he agreed to be here? Well, he hadn’t exactly agreed. He’d been pushed into a corner and had reluctantly grunted what had been interpreted as assent. Metcalf had played on his knowledge of Kyle’s past, his big heart and the reputation of the clinic in order to coerce his agreement.

      As Kyle surveyed the small room full of people of all ages, wearing black ski pants and red jackets with large white crosses on their backs, he looked for the leader among them. The din of voices was high enough that he’d have to speak louder than normal to be heard.

      “Hey, close the door, will ya?” someone yelled.

      “Keep the noise down. You know how Baylie reacts when we’re being so loud,” another said.

      The level of chatter dropped to a passable level.

      As Kyle stepped inside, the swinging door closed behind him. A grandfather type pulled on a knit hat with the local college logo on it and grinned as he pushed past Kyle on his way out into the snowy air.

      “Can you tell me where to find the head of the courtesy patrol?” Kyle asked a woman who looked to be around thirty.

      “Yeah, you’d be looking for Baylie. She’s over by the assignment board.” She pointed across the long, narrow room.

      “Thanks.” Snow and wind hit him in the back as the woman opened the door again and went outside. He joined the group standing in a corner. As he approached, a feminine, almost angelic voice issued orders with drill-sergeant effectiveness.

      “Roger, Mark and Sue take Snow Dream Way. We’re supposed to be busy today so watch the kids closely.”

      Kyle liked her efficiency. When those three people moved away it allowed him a glimpse of the person to whom the voice belonged. Her straight dark brown hair brushed the tops of her shoulders as she looked back at the board. She appeared more like a kid than someone responsible for the welfare of skiers at a major resort. Maybe she was just filling in, like he was.

      She called out another set of instructions and a few more people moved away, allowing him a better sight. Dressed in the same shapeless black ski bibs as many of the others, he could tell she had a trim figure. Her white turtleneck hugged her arms, covering her delicate wrists and neck. The next time she turned, her gingerbread-colored gaze met his. An inquisitive look filled them before recognition dawned.

      “You must be Dr. Metcalf from the sports-med clinic in Pittsburgh. I’m Baylie Walker. We appreciate your help.”

      “I’m from the clinic, but I’m afraid Dr. Metcalf couldn’t make it. I’m his replacement for the weekend, Kyle Campbell.”

      Her smile fell and she made a tut-tutting noise with her mouth. “Ooh, that’s not good.”

      Kyle raised a brow and waited. Nothing about being at the ski resort was good as far as he was concerned. Being on the snow had once been his first love, the thing he’d lived for—but now he directed all that energy into excelling as a doctor.

      Just driving here had made him break out in a sweat. The closer he’d come to the slopes as he’d driven up the mountain the harder it had been. Maybe she’d tell him that he wasn’t needed. He would gladly drive the two hours back to Pittsburgh.

      “There’s an interview process here. You can’t just show up and expect to run the slopes as part of the patrol without some instruction. I need to know you’re qualified.”

      Her questioning of his experience irritated him. At one time he’d bet he could’ve outskied anyone on this mountain and most of the others. The slip of a ski, a fence and a bungling EMT had ended that.

      “I didn’t ‘just show up’. I was told that you had been notified of the change. I understood that I would either be teaching ski school or patrolling the bunny slope. I can assure you that I’m more than qualified to do either of those,” he said in an authoritative voice.

      She blinked then squared her shoulders. “You may be, but I’ll need to see for myself. We have rules for a reason.”

      This issue could be his ticket out, but the fairy-sized woman had got his hackles up. Despite