Prologue

PROLOGUE

ALLIE

S now sprays up behind me as I slice fresh tracks into the trail. I pass so close through the trees that my ski pole clips one of the pines, sending a shower of fresh powder falling off its branches. The man behind me gives a shout as it rains down on him. I turn my head and laugh in his direction, the sound muffled by the thick snow around us.

“I’ll get you for that,” Hans teases, and I hear the swish of his skis as he speeds up behind me.

I dig my poles into the ground and push myself forward, squealing as he chases me through the snow.

Luckily the trail we’re on is narrow, winding through tall pine trees, and it’s not until we come to a flat area that he’s able to get alongside me.

I turn to him, giggling, but at that moment he falls back, leaving me to wonder what he’s doing. A moment later, something cold hits the back of my head.

“Hey!”

I cut sideways, bringing my skis to a halt and kicking up snow. Hans already has another snowball in his hand, and I duck down as it flies over my head.

“You missed.”

My heart’s racing from the trail and I’m breathing hard, but the sight of the ski instructor has my breath catching. Blond hair peeks out from under his beanie, and large orange-tinted ski goggles can’t hide the mischievous grin on his wide, stubble-brushed face.

I gather snow in my gloved hands and roll it into a ball. It gets him in the shoulder, and he lunges forward. I squeal and take off on my skis. But we’re both laughing as his hand closes over my leg, and I tumble to the snow.

Hans throws a snowball at close range, and it smashes against my chest. I’m laughing so hard that some of it flies into my mouth and straight down my throat.

The laughs turn to coughs, and Hans’s expression turns serious, which makes me laugh even more. Now I’m laughing and coughing at the same time, which makes for an unattractive splutter.

“Are you okay?”

There’s a Swedish lilt to his accent. Hans has been in the States for a long time, but I’m glad he hasn’t lost his sexy accent entirely.

We’ve both got our skis on, but somehow he manages to pull me to a sitting position until my coughing fit is over.

“I swallowed some snow,” I rasp out when I can talk again.

His expression is unreadable under the goggles, and I long to take them off to see his bright blue eyes.

“Come.” He gets to his feet and offers a hand to pull me up. “This is what I wanted to show you.”

The ground is a gentle slope here and then flattens out to a plateau. I follow him, using my poles to get traction on the flat surface.

We’re really off-piste now, and Hans stops a few yards from the edge of a sheer drop. Which is why this trail is untouched. If you weren’t paying attention, you could ski right over the edge. The only barrier is a cluster of boulders, and that’s where we head to.

Hans unclips his skis and steps out of them, and I do the same. He climbs onto the boulders and holds out his hand to help me up.

Even through the thick snow gloves, his touch makes my blood heat. Everything about this man makes my blood heat.

Mother insisted I get a daily ski lesson even though we’ve been coming to the Emerald Heart Resort every year since before I could walk.

“It’s not enough just to get down the mountain, Allie,” she said, “You need to ski with elegance.” Which is typical of my mother. It’s not enough just to enjoy something. You’ve got to be graceful while doing it.

She looked me up and down, her brow knitted with disappointment. “Especially for a girl your size. You need a certain deportment on the ski field. You never know who’s watching.”

I tried to give her a bright smile, ignoring the dig at my size. It’s a constant disappointment to my mother that she produced a daughter who doesn’t conform to her idea of what a woman should look like. I take after my father, a six foot something giant who passed his big frame on to his daughter, and I love the cake our housekeeper makes too much. But Mom blames it all on my dad. Just another point to argue over with him every time they’re forced to see each other.

Although if Mom hadn’t insisted I have ski lessons every morning, then I wouldn’t have met Hans, the easygoing ski instructor who’s spent the week teaching me to go faster and do jumps.

Mom was furious when she came to watch a lesson this morning. I’m not sure if it was because I was having too much fun, or because being able to ride a half pipe isn’t going to attract the right kind of man, which is what she’s always on about now that I’ve turned eighteen.

It’s like I’m stuck in a Jane Austin novel, and my mother is determined to make a match with the season’s most eligible bachelor. Too bad Mom judges eligibility by the size of their bank accounts. If it was up to me, I think I’ve found the most eligible man right here.

When things got to be too much with Mom this morning, Hans waited till she wasn’t looking then told me to follow him.

We weaved between pine trees, going off-piste until we left the ski fields and my mother far behind. She’ll be furious when I get back, and I’ll probably be grounded for the rest of the year, but it’s been worth it.

Hans loves skiing as much as I do, and there’s nothing like the freedom of the wind whipping behind you and the gentle sound of skis slicing through fresh powder.

“It’s beautiful.”

The entire Wild Heart Valley is laid out below us. There was a fresh snow dump last night, and the trees are covered in a layer of pure white. Below us Emerald Heart Lake is frozen solid, and tiny ice skaters can be seen gliding across its surface.

“It is,” Hans agrees. But his voice is close, and when I turn my head, he’s looking straight at me. My heart jumps in my chest. He’s pulled his ski goggles up, and his bright blue eyes are all the more vivid from being hidden behind them. There are lines on his face where the goggles pressed into his skin, and his cheeks are rosy red from the cool air.

I slide my goggles onto the top of my head, and we stare at each other as if seeing one another for the first time.

My heart’s beating so fast I’m sure he must hear it. I’ve been crushing on the tall ski instructor since my first lesson, but I had no idea he felt the same. But the way he’s looking at me like he wants to kiss me has my insides doing flips.

My mouth goes dry and I lick my lips, and his gaze darts to them. There’s hunger in his look, and that makes my pulse quicken. I’m suddenly overheated in my long underwear and ski suit.

Hans shrugs his glove off and reaches for my hair, curling a strand in his fingers.

“I wondered what color your hair was under there,” he murmurs.

“It’s mousy brown.”

I repeat the words Mom uses to describe my disappointing hair. Again I take after my dad and have missed out on the luscious blond curls that are my mother’s pride and joy and the reason she spends so many hours at the hair salon.

Hans runs the strand through his fingers.

“It looks like Swiss chocolate to me.”

His hands slide under my beanie. “May I?”

I swallow hard because his touch is doing all sorts of weird thing to my body. I’m overheated and trembling, and there’s a new sensation between my legs. A tug, a longing that I’ve never felt around anyone before.

I nod, keeping my eyes on his as he slides my beanie and goggles off my head.

He lays them on the boulder and then his hands are in my hair as he pulls it out from where I’ve kept it tucked into my coat. It fans over my shoulders in thick waves, and Hans runs his hand through it.

“It’s beautiful, like caramel swirl chocolate.” With the lilt of his accent, the compliment has my heart pounding.

I want his hands to touch more than my hair. I want to feel him on me. As if reading my mind, his gaze comes back to mine.

“You’re beautiful, Allie. So beautiful.”

My breath hitches, because the only person who’s ever called me beautiful is my dad, and that’s compulsory for a dad, right? I’m stunned that this gorgeous man thinks I’m beautiful.

His hands slide to my cheeks, and I gasp at the heat from his fingers.

“I want to kiss you.”

The words make my tummy flip, and I part my lips as he leans toward me.

As soon as our lips touch, heat skitters through my veins and warmth floods my body. His lips are soft, but the kiss is firm. Tender and hungry all at once.

I’ve been kissed before but it’s never felt like this, like my body’s floating in a warm bubble.

When we break away, we’re both breathing hard.

His eyes search mine, and there’s so much conveyed in that look. We’ve spent the week together and I thought I was imagining the connection we had, but it’s obvious from his look that he’s felt it too.

Hans smiles at me softly, and I want him to kiss me again and never stop.

“Allie, I…” He goes to speak, but he’s cut off by a voice I know all too well.

“That’s where you are.”

Hans drops his hold of me, and I snap around to see my mother approaching across the snow. She’s got one of the ski patrols with her, and neither of them look happy.

“We’ve been looking all over for you, Allie; you can’t just go off-piste without telling me.”

I drop my gaze, because there’s no point arguing with my mother. It only ever gets me in trouble, and she never listens anyway.

Mom doesn’t even look at Hans, and I wonder if she saw us kissing. Part of me hopes she did. It might make her stop trying to set me up with an appropriate man from a proper family.

“We were just looking at the view.”

“We need to get back to the cabin. We’ve got dinner with the Boltons tonight. I want you in the blue dress with your hair brushed. Their son arrived today, and he’s going to take you up the slopes tomorrow.”

My heart sinks because she’s at it again, setting me up with some boring guy.

“How about my lesson?”

“Lessons are cancelled,” Mom says crisply.

I turn to Hans, but he’s already gotten down off the boulder. I try to catch his eye but his goggles are already pulled down over his face, making his expression unreadable.

I scramble off the boulder. “Thank you for showing me this,” I say to Hans, trying to get back the connection we shared a few moments ago.

“Of course,” he says, but there’s something chilly in his voice that I don’t like.

He steps into his skis and goes on ahead of us.

As I watch him go, Mom leans forward and says in a voice that’s supposed to be conspiratorial but is still loud enough to carry across the entire valley, “Don’t fool around with the help, Allie. He’ll never be good enough for someone like you.”

My breath does a sharp intake at her words. Hans is moving away from us using his poles to pull him through the snow. I see his back stiffen, and he pauses as the words hit him.

“Hans…” I call.

But he puts his poles in the ground and keeps moving without looking back.