Naked Edge by Pamela Clare

Author:Pamela Clare [Clare, Pamela]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Fiction, Romance, General, Contemporary
ISBN: 9781101185773
Google: 3Or0XpU4H4YC
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2010-03-02T13:00:00+00:00

Now he was keeping his end of the bargain. She watched through binoculars as he trekked, skis on his shoulder, up the side of the nearest mountain in search of what he called "sick terrain." He disappeared behind a large outcropping of rock and emerged a short time later some distance above it near the timberline. How he managed to move so quickly on such steep terrain and at this altitude with the weight of the skis on his back she couldn't say. Maybe it had something to do with all that muscle.

Soon he stood at the base of the cliff where she'd seen the eagles soaring. She watched through the binoculars as he stepped into his skis, tied the snowshoes onto his backpack, and drew a pair of goggles over his eyes. With a glance in her direction and a smile on his face, he turned his skis downhill--and was off.

At first she thought he was falling, snow spraying in all directions around him, obscuring her view, moving down the steep slope like a mini-avalanche. Then he turned, and she saw that he hadn't fallen at all. He was in complete control, a man at the center of a whirling cloud of powder.

It was like watching poetry. His body seemed almost still, and yet it wasn't, his legs shifting subtly, his weight leaning slightly from side to side as he made small turns, adapting to the terrain, his poles and the top of his head the most visible parts of him. Then he reached timberline, shooting through glades of pine and bare aspen with such speed that it left her breathless.

And then Kat saw.

He must have forgotten about the rocks. He must have forgotten about the rock outcropping, because he was headed straight toward it. He didn't seem to realize it was there, didn't seem to know that if he kept skiing in that direction, he'd have a drop of at least fifty feet to the snow below.

"Gabe!" Kat ran forward, screamed to warn him, but he couldn't hear her.

He skied right over the top of the rocks--and shot into the air.

Her legs gave out, and she sank to her knees in the snow, binoculars landing in her lap. Unable to breathe, her pulse tripping, she grabbed them and watched as he landed in a spray of powder and shot down the mountainside, a wide grin on his face.

Only then did she realize he'd done that deliberately.

FEELING MORE ALIVE than he had in years, Gabe skied up to the cabin and knew he was in deep shit the moment he saw Kat's face. She glared at him, a wool blanket wrapped around her shoulders, binoculars dangling from one hand.

"You should have warned me about those rocks." She didn't yell, but her voice shook with anger, her accent stronger than usual. "What would have happened if you'd broken your leg or died? How could I have helped you out here?"

"You were afraid for me?" He jammed his poles into the snow and stepped out of his skis, setting them upright against the cabin wall.

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