The 48 Hour Hookup (Chase Brothers) by Sarah Ballance

skis re-attached where they’d come loose.
    “I’m sorry. Claire, I didn’t mean—”
    He scrambled to his feet, not quite making it there before he lost his balance and tipped sideways into the snow. He didn’t have any more luck getting to vertical than she did. Good. She jerked her ski out of the drift and managed to snap her foot into it. Maybe. It seemed secure enough. “I thought you, of all people, would understand I don’t want that here. We agreed we weren’t doing that here.”
    “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, sounding bewildered. “I just meant that you look pretty damned amazing like this, minus the part where you look like you want me dead.”
    She leaned to get her poles, managing to fall over again. He wisely didn’t say another word. Just sat there in the drift they’d all but flattened. “Watch for ravines,” she muttered, more or less competently getting up and taking off toward the lodge. The tracks made it easy, though she hated he was probably watching her ass as she left. Not that she could blame him. That was pretty much all she’d done on that trail.
    Why did he have to kiss her like that and then ruin it by mentioning what she’d gone there to escape?
    And why did she have to care that the connection was ruined? She should be grateful. She didn’t know who she was madder at. Him for tearing through her defenses and reminding her of who she really was.
    Or herself for wanting him in spite of it.

Chapter Nine
    Liam watched Claire storm back down the trail. Her ass was phenomenal. Her anger was…justified. He got it. He couldn’t believe he’d opened his big mouth and reminded her of why she was running, but it had been a fucking compliment. Or maybe not. You’re gorgeous when you don’t look like your TV self probably wouldn’t have gone over well, had he succeeded in putting that all out there.
    Irritated with himself, he managed to get his feet underneath him. Through a small clearing, the snow-covered view sprawled endlessly. He’d wanted to tell her that was what he loved about getting on a mountain. The views. The air. The isolation.
    Instead, he’d kissed her.
    He hadn’t meant to. She was just too…irresistible, all flushed and aggravated and plowing him down like they’d been on a forty-five-degree slope instead of relatively flat ground. The skis hadn’t been waxed in ages. Cutting the trail hadn’t been easy, but out there, he was in his element. Or so he’d thought. He’d found a new element. One with pretty blue eyes and a soft mouth. One probably spewing profanity in his honor.
    Hell, he could do the same.
    He’d barely slept with her lying against him. Instead, he’d spent the night with his mind filled with all kinds of dirty thoughts, every drop of blood he had in his body congregated south. He was still kind of blown away by the way they’d lain there, tangled and talking, spilling life stories like they were old friends around a campfire. He still felt the arch of her foot resting against the top of his and the curve of her hip teasing his fingertips. He still heard those soft sighs she uttered in sleep and felt the way she’d snuggled a bit closer with each one. He wondered a time or two who she thought she was cuddling with, but he quickly pushed each of those thoughts away.
    Didn’t matter.
    Especially not that morning, when she opened her eyes and let him drown. He never meant to touch her, not so intimately, but he’d lost all control of control. Granted, he hadn’t mauled her, but he hadn’t been able to resist when she’d let him in.
    And now he’d blown it.
    He covered the trail half-heartedly. He didn’t have to cut it, which made the going faster, but he didn’t figure Claire wanted to see him right then. Their attempt to find anything to build a fire with had failed, but he noticed a low bough that blocked a dead branch and stopped to break off as many of the smaller branches as he could. The wood wasn’t dry like