got downstairs to find the kitchen empty, with a note on the counter propped up against the salt shaker.
She had popped down to the town to get some stuff.
It had been snowing sporadically for the past twenty-four hours but the snow had gathered pace overnight. Optimum skiing conditions were bright-blue skies and good accumulation of snow. Too much falling snow could end up being inconvenient and, in some cases, downright dangerous to safe skiing.
He looked outside at what appeared to be a gathering snow storm. The lifts would be running at half-empty, if that. The line between safe and treacherous was slim. But she was a damned good skier. The best skiing companion he had ever had—courageous without taking unnecessary chances. He would wait for her to return and give himself a chance to catch up on work.
But there was no internet connection. Nor, when he tried his mobile phone, could he get a signal.
He waited a further twenty minutes and then realised that he had no choice but to hunt her down.
Chances were she was fine and on her way back but there was the very slender possibility that the sudden heavy snowfall had disorientated her, as it was wont to do with skiers unaccustomed to these slopes.
A disorientated skier very quickly became a skier at high risk. There had also been three avalanches in the past eighteen months. No casualties, but it only took one...
One disorientated skier, unfamiliar with the terrain, reacting without thinking, panicking...
When that happened, experience on a pair of sticks counted for nothing.
He dropped everything: the coffee he had just made; the historic files he had been about to review on his computer; the report waiting to be concluded.
He hit the slopes at a run, strapped himself into his skis and took off.
This was more than just a bit of fun for a couple of days. This was a serious case of wanting a woman and he was sick of playing mind games with himself. Hell, when he thought of her disappearing without him having bedded her...
He killed every single scruple that had been holding him back, because he was a man who was accustomed to taking what he wanted, and why bother trying to break the habits of a lifetime?
THE GOING WAS slower than it would normally have been. Lucas was familiar with the slope down to the town centre but the thickly falling snow meant that he had to take it more carefully, which went against the grain when it came to skiing.
What the hell had she been thinking, venturing out when she must have known that there was the possibility of getting lost? She had never been here before and so far had only seen the slopes in his speeding wake.
He did his utmost to cover as much ground as possible, cross-skiing, eyes peeled for anything that might be a figure in distress. Or even a figure moving at a snail’s pace, trying to get her bearings.
Nothing.
The slopes were virtually empty. The height of the tourist season was over and the falling snow would have kept most of the skiers indoors. Good food, good wine, expensive lodges—some, like his, with saunas and gyms. Being cooped up indoors would hardly be a hardship.
After twenty minutes, he saw the town approaching in the distance, a clutch of shops and restaurants, bars and cafés.
He hadn’t planned to make this trip. He had planned to stay put in the lodge, testing the less obvious ski slopes, maintaining his privacy. It was a small town and he was its wealthiest occasional visitor.
Cursing fluently under his breath, because he had no idea what ‘stuff’ she could possibly have needed to buy when the house was stocked with enough food for them to survive a sudden nuclear war, he resigned himself to a door-to-door search for her.
He hadn’t signed up for this.
He was recognised within minutes of entering the first shop. He was stopped as he tried to progress through the town. His dark, striking looks halted people in their tracks, even those who didn’t know who he was.
Somewhere, there would be someone with a camera. The place was a magnet for the paparazzi.
Hell! It made no difference to him whether some sleazeball with a camera snapped a photo of him but he would rather have avoided it. He valued his privacy, little of it as there was.
He found her in the very last café, huddled in front of a mug of hot chocolate, watching the snow storm. He had just spent the past hour trudging to find her and here she was, cool as a cucumber, sipping her drink without a care in the world!
He burst into the smart café and was, of course, immediately recognised by the owner. He might not have been a regular visitor but he was so extraordinarily high-profile that people went out of their way to garner his attention.
Even when, as now, he patently didn’t want it. Especially not when she had spotted him and was frowning as she absorbed the café owner’s deference.
The man was practically bowing as he retreated. Lucas ignored him, choosing instead to hold her gaze as he strode towards her.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
‘Enjoying a cup of hot chocolate.’
‘Are you a complete idiot?’ He remained standing, his face dark with anger. ‘Have you noticed what’s happening with the weather outside? Or are you in a world of your own? Come on. Let’s go. Now!’
‘Don’t you dare order me around!’
Lucas leaned down, hands flat on the table, crowding her so that she automatically flinched back.
The café was half-empty but the few people there were whispering, looking covertly in their direction.
How dare he stride into this café and order her around like a schoolteacher telling a misbehaving kid what to do? How dare he? And where was the laid-guy who had listened to her rattle on about her life? The guy who had offered sparse but good advice, who had actually succeeded in helping her put her nightmare broken engagement into some kind of healthy perspective? Where had he gone? In his place, this was a dark, avenging stranger bossing her about, embarrassing her in front of other people.
Thanks to her lying, cheating ex-fiancé, she had spent the last two weeks smiling and putting on a brave face to mask her total humiliation. She wasn’t about to let any stranger drag her back to that place!
‘I am not ordering you around. I am very politely but very firmly telling you to drain the remnants of that hot chocolate and follow me out of here. Unless you want to find yourself spending the night in whatever hotel can fit you in!’
‘I didn’t ask you to come flying down here to rescue me!’ Milly snapped, digging her heels in as a matter of principle, even though he was right. She had barely noticed the worsening weather. She should have. She knew all about worsening weather from growing up in Scotland—but she had been lost in her thoughts. ‘And, for your information, it wasn’t like this when I came out this morning.’
Lucas didn’t answer. He pushed himself away from the table with the unswerving assumption that she would follow him, which she did.
‘I haven’t paid!’ she gasped, catching up with his furious stride.
‘There’s no need to pay...’ This from behind her.
Milly looked round, startled. ‘Wh-what do you mean?’ she stammered.
‘Mr Romero is a very special visitor.’ Like nearly every person working in the shops and cafés, the owner of this café was deferential to the wealthy and politely but condescendingly accommodating to everyone else. Money talked.
‘A very special visitor...?’ Milly’s mouth wobbled on the brink of laughter because she wondered what a simple