“I’m actually taking the bus.” She pointed down the street at the plastic shelter with the sign sporting the bus route number.
“A bus in this weather?” He eyed the slippery streets.
A shrug lifted her shoulders. “Don’t really have a choice.” Her car was in the shop and would be until a part arrived.
“Allow me to arrange a ride for you.” He pulled a phone from his pocket, and she arched a brow.
“While I appreciate the gesture, I have to decline.” He might be handsome, but as a woman, she knew the unspoken rules to keep herself safe.
“You can pay me back if it’s about money.”
“Actually, it’s more about me giving you my address, which is a no-no with strangers,” she sang, almost wagging her finger. “Not to mention, I don’t ride alone in cars with people I don’t know. It’s safer for a lady that way.” She winked.
“Are you always this paranoid?” he asked, slipping the phone back into his coat.
“It’s called being cautious.”
“Must make dating difficult.”
“What makes you think I’m single?” The assumption pursed her lips.
He eyed her hand.
“A lack of a ring doesn’t mean I’m not in a relationship.”
“No ring indicates whatever your status, it’s not fully committed.” His turn to grin, and it was as bright as the gaudy tree set up in the lobby of her apartment building.
“Does that apply to you too?” she asked, eyeing his hand, seeing no tan line that would indicate he’d recently removed one.
“I’m single. You?”
She should have said, “None of your business.” Instead her mouth had other ideas. “I’m not currently dating, nor interested.” This close to the holidays would only be awkward. Should she get him a gift? What if she did and he had nothing for her in return?
“How about eating? You do still eat, don’t you?” he asked, more persistent than expected.
“That is the oldest and lamest pickup line in the book,” she declared.
“Because it is tried and true. By having dinner, we can meet in a public place of your choosing so you’re comfortable.”
“Sounds good except for one thing.”
“What?”
“It involves eating with you. I’m not interested in casual dating, and you’ve already said you’re only here for a few days, meaning you’re looking for a fling, and I don’t do flings. At all.” Although he was handsome enough she almost wanted to forget that personal edict.
“I was just looking for some companionship at dinner. Nothing more.”
“Said every pushy guy ever.” She rolled her shoulders. “Still not interested, which is why I’m going to say goodbye now.”
“I’m sorry to have offended you. Have a good evening.” He inclined his head.
“Merry Christmas,” she called out as she headed for her stop, hoping in her haste to catch the approaching bus that she didn’t fall and land on her face or butt.
She made it onto the mass transit vehicle without mishap. A peek through the window as she found a seat meant she saw him staring at her then saluting her with a half-wave and a smile.
Maybe she should have said yes to dinner. And dragged him home for dessert.
Chapter Three
Winters the Iceman is a murderer they say. He was made to fight and takes great delight in sending you on your way.
Soundly rejected. If Mathias was the kind to give a shit, it might have been ego shattering, but he honestly didn’t give a fuck. He’d not come to this skiers’ delight of a town for pleasure but business.
After she left, on a bus of all things—disgusting mode of transportation that he only took in the direst circumstance—he glanced at the building she’d emerged from. It was several stories high, with a security guard manning reception inside. Side-by-side elevators plus opposing sets of stairs for entry to the upper levels. Only one staircase remained unlocked at all times for everyone’s use. The other one was supposedly under repair. Had been for months, according to the intel he’d gathered.
Rather than go inside, he kept walking. His hotel wasn’t far away, the downtown core full of the things he needed, like a liquor store, restaurant with some excellent Brazilian food, and a hardware store to buy the items he couldn’t bring on the plane. Rope. Carabiners. A screwdriver and a rechargeable drill, which he needed for the battery. No need to pay a fortune for fancy toys that might get spotted by TSA security when the basics did the trick.
Supplies acquired, and initial scouting mission accomplished, he headed up to his room, the penthouse of course, giving him the best view. As he stripped, he dropped his clothes onto a chair and paced his room, trying to keep his thoughts on the job. He didn’t quite manage it because he found himself strangely distracted by the woman with the wide smile and sassy attitude.
Pity she’d not said yes to dinner. She’d had nice lips, full and inviting. Her figure, hidden under her coat, hinted at curves. A woman with meat on her bones, just the way he liked it. And while he’d sensed her interest in him as a man, she’d not wavered in her decision to brush him off.
Perhaps she’d lied and had a significant other. An idea that didn’t sit well at all. Why did it matter? Why the interest in her?
Sure, it had been awhile since he’d had any interest in the opposite sex. Too long, which might be why the memory of this stranger aroused. He was horny. Plain and simple.
Since he had time to kill, he sat in a chair, legs partially spread, head tilted back. Hand on his hardening dick. It thickened in his grip, especially as he recalled the woman’s pert replies. If she’d only known she was talking to a killer, her expression would have been much different and probably not as sexy.
But he wasn’t the type to get off on fear. He preferred a woman unafraid to smile. Someone who could joke about her almost-mishap with a bright tone and sparkling eyes.
Would she have that same sassy grin during sex? Or would she be the type to moan as he played with her breasts? Which led to him wondering what kind she hid. Large nipples? Small? Pink? Dark? He liked them all. Especially when pushed together that he might slide his cock between them and poke it at a pair of lips.
He could picture her sucking him, taking his tip. He slid his hand up and down his cock at the thought. When he imagined her licking the pearl glistening at the tip, he pumped even faster.
Did she have a full ass, the kind to cushion a man if he took her from behind?
Or he could have her lying down, legs spread and welcoming, breasts peeking, lips parted, expression sultry, watching him as he slid his prick into her pink pussy. Pushing into her as she gasped, moaned. Called his name as she came.
Mathias.
He came, catching the juice with the tissues he’d thought to grab, but it was only as he flushed that he inwardly grumbled about how his fantasy ended.
Why would a woman, a stranger, calling out his real name be so sexy? So desirable?
Could he finally have gotten tired of living in the shadows? Mathias Winters, aka Iceman, who cared about nothing but the balance in his bank accounts.
Nah.