Page 6 of Beastly Mountain Man

Bear apparently considered negotiations complete. He lumbered over and leaned his full weight against my legs.

I looked down at seventy-something pounds of golden fur pressed against my tailored charcoal trousers. “You have remarkable timing.”

Bear gazed up at me, entirely unrepentant. I scratched behind one soft ear anyway.

Lucky noticed. He was polite enough not to comment.

After retrieving the remains of my underwear with a tissue and apologizing once more, he clipped Bear’s leash securely to his collar.

“I’ll get him out of your way.”

“He’s charming when he isn’t committing crimes.”

“That’s how he maintains access to society.”

I smiled. “Goodnight, Lucky.”

His attention held mine for a quiet second before he answered.

“Goodnight, Caprice. Call if you need anything.”

I watched him walk down the porch steps with Bear beside him, then closed the door against the rush of cold air.

For several seconds, the cabin was completely quiet before my laptop chimed and reminded me that work was still waiting.

I returned to the dining table, opened the approval thread I’d been reviewing, and discovered that I was looking at the property contacts in the welcome folder instead.

The words Lucius Ramsey were right there in front of me, but all I could think was Lucky.

I moved the folder firmly to the other side of the table.

Attraction was not a crisis. It did not require a response plan, a contingency meeting, or an emergency revision to the schedule.

It did, however, have excellent shoulders.

I got back to work.

Room service arrived a little after seven.

By then I had changed into soft neutral cashmere layers, answered everything that actually required an answer, reviewed the next day’s working schedule, and resisted the urge to contact three people who had not requested my involvement.

The salmon Deb had recommended was excellent. So were the roasted vegetables and potatoes, although I ate most of the meal without giving any of it the attention it deserved because my laptop remained open beside the tray.

The chocolate dessert had not been part of my order.

I stared at it for a moment.

Then I ate that too.

By eight-thirty the windows had turned into black mirrors edged by the occasional reflected lamp from inside the cabin. Beyond them, the pines had disappeared into darkness, and frost shone white across the rear deck where the exterior light reached it.

The cabin itself was warm, the heated floors were warm, and my cashmere was warm, but the enormous stone fireplace across the great room had started to look increasingly persuasive.

I carried my dinner tray to the kitchen island, then crossed to the hearth.

The resort had supplied everything. A neat stack of split firewood occupied a recessed space beside the stone. Kindling sat in a separate container. Fireplace tools hung from a black metal stand, and the safety equipment was exactly where it should have been.

There was also a small safety card beside the fireplace controls. It identified the switch as a built-in gas starter and instructed guests unfamiliar with the fireplace to contact Property Management for first-use assistance.