Snowbound with Dr Delectable

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Dear Reader

My family has enjoyed a snow-skiing holiday each year for over twenty years. It is a sport that we all love and something that we enjoy doing as a family. My youngest child began skiing when he was only four, and we are now taking our third generation of skiers to the slopes.

During our last trip to the mountains I began thinking about what a wonderful setting the ski resort would be for a romance. There is nothing more breathtaking than riding a ski-lift among treetops tipped in white, while big fat snowflakes drift down and silence surrounds you. This screamed romance to me.

Hence Baylie and Kyle’s story was born. They are two souls tortured by their fears. Everyone has fears—both rational and irrational—but Baylie and Kyle have let their fears define them and stop them from living life to the fullest. During their work together on the Courtesy Patrol, and through their love for each other, can they learn to live with their fears?

I’d like to thank Robin Visintin of the Courtesy Patrol at Snowshoe, West Virginia, for all her invaluable help. you and your group of volunteers make my family feel welcome every year.

I hope you enjoy reading Baylie and Kyle’s snowy Christmas romance on the slopes as much as I enjoyed writing it. I love to hear from my readers. You can find me at www.SusanCarlisle.com

Merry Christmas!

Susan

DEDICATION

To my daughter, Mary Beth.

Your mother loves you.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

DR. KYLE CAMPBELL stepped reluctantly into what at best could be called controlled chaos. The banging of skis against the floor and the clanking as they hit each other when propped against the wall was painfully familiar.

He stood in the doorway of the courtesy ski patrol building at the Snow Mountain Resort in West Virginia the weekend before Christmas. The early-morning wind buffeted his back and a blast of cold whirled by him. Why had he agreed to be here? Well, he hadn’t exactly agreed. He’d been pushed into a corner and had reluctantly grunted what had been interpreted as assent. Metcalf had played on his knowledge of Kyle’s past, his big heart and the reputation of the clinic in order to coerce his agreement.

As Kyle surveyed the small room full of people of all ages, wearing black ski pants and red jackets with large white crosses on their backs, he looked for the leader among them. The din of voices was high enough that he’d have to speak louder than normal to be heard.

“Hey, close the door, will ya?” someone yelled.

“Keep the noise down. You know how Baylie reacts when we’re being so loud,” another said.

The level of chatter dropped to a passable level.

As Kyle stepped inside, the swinging door closed behind him. A grandfather type pulled on a knit hat with the local college logo on it and grinned as he pushed past Kyle on his way out into the snowy air.

“Can you tell me where to find the head of the courtesy patrol?” Kyle asked a woman who looked to be around thirty.

“Yeah, you’d be looking for Baylie. She’s over by the assignment board.” She pointed across the long, narrow room.

“Thanks.” Snow and wind hit him in the back as the woman opened the door again and went outside. He joined the group standing in a corner. As he approached, a feminine, almost angelic voice issued orders with drill-sergeant effectiveness.

“Roger, Mark and Sue take Snow Dream Way. We’re supposed to be busy today so watch the kids closely.”

Kyle liked her efficiency. When those three people moved away it allowed him a glimpse of the person to whom the voice belonged. Her straight dark brown hair brushed the tops of her shoulders as she looked back at the board. She appeared more like a kid than someone responsible for the welfare of skiers at a major resort. Maybe she was just filling in, like he was.

She called out another set of instructions and a few more people moved away, allowing him a better sight. Dressed in the same shapeless black ski bibs as many of the others, he could tell she had a trim figure. Her white turtleneck hugged her arms, covering her delicate wrists and neck. The next time she turned, her gingerbread-colored gaze met his. An inquisitive look filled them before recognition dawned.

“You must be Dr. Metcalf from the sports-med clinic in Pittsburgh. I’m Baylie Walker. We appreciate your help.”

“I’m from the clinic, but I’m afraid Dr. Metcalf couldn’t make it. I’m his replacement for the weekend, Kyle Campbell.”

Her smile fell and she made a tut-tutting noise with her mouth. “Ooh, that’s not good.”

Kyle raised a brow and waited. Nothing about being at the ski resort was good as far as he was concerned. Being on the snow had once been his first love, the thing he’d lived for—but now he directed all that energy into excelling as a doctor.

Just driving here had made him break out in a sweat. The closer he’d come to the slopes as he’d driven up the mountain the harder it had been. Maybe she’d tell him that he wasn’t needed. He would gladly drive the two hours back to Pittsburgh.

“There’s an interview process here. You can’t just show up and expect to run the slopes as part of the patrol without some instruction. I need to know you’re qualified.”

Her questioning of his experience irritated him. At one time he’d bet he could’ve outskied anyone on this mountain and most of the others. The slip of a ski, a fence and a bungling EMT had ended that.

“I didn’t ‘just show up’. I was told that you had been notified of the change. I understood that I would either be teaching ski school or patrolling the bunny slope. I can assure you that I’m more than qualified to do either of those,” he said in an authoritative voice.

She blinked then squared her shoulders. “You may be, but I’ll need to see for myself. We have rules for a reason.”

This issue could be his ticket out, but the fairy-sized woman had got his hackles up. Despite not having skied for years, he didn’t like the implication he might not be good enough. He’d made the choice to hang up his skis not because he couldn’t ski but because he wouldn’t.

“An orientation couldn’t possibly be necessary in order to ski on the bunny slope.” Kyle didn’t even make an effort to keep the cynicism out of his voice. This situation was beginning to grate on his already strained nerves.

It had all begun when the partners in the clinic, Kyle included, had decided they should be more involved in community service. Kyle had volunteered at a community clinic in downtown Pittsburgh, but he had never had any intention of signing up as a volunteer for the Snow Mountain courtesy patrol. He had only agreed to fill in for Metcalf because he wouldn’t have to ski anything more difficult than the beginner slope.

His world was good now. He was a successful doctor, he was dating, and he had a great place to live. He’d learned to deal with his loss. If it hadn’t been for Metcalf getting his weekends messed up and his wife having a trip to her parents’ planned for their Christmas celebration, Kyle would never have caved and agreed to take his place. Metcalf knew Kyle’s skiing history, and if he’d declined it would have been hard to explain why he didn’t want to work at the resort. Sharing his fear he wouldn’t do. Metcalf had told the resort he had a little experience so they had agreed to give him only the easiest of slopes. With that understanding, Kyle had felt like he could make it through two days.

“Are you familiar with the mountain?” she continued as she looked back at the board.

“No.”

“Great.” She didn’t look pleased. She turned to face him again. “I’ll get someone to outfit you with a uniform. When I’m done here I’ll show you the ropes.” A slight grin formed on her lips.

If he hadn’t been so uptight about clicking on his skis again for the first time in ten years he might have found some humor in her pun. Beginner slopes were notorious for having rope pulls to get skiers up the mountain. Few appreciated that a rope pull was only a step better than walking up. Both methods could turn a beginner skier into a non-skier.

“Tiffani,” Baylie called. A woman who looked like the quintessential snow bunny turned toward them. “Could you show…?”

“Kyle,” he supplied.

“Kyle where to get a patrol jacket?”

“Sure.” Tiffani gave him a smile that brought back memories. The snow groupies had used to give him the same “I’m interested” looks when he’d been on the skiing circuit. He had to admit that his ego had enjoyed them.

He returned the smile but without the same wattage of warmth, then gave his attention to Baylie again. Her lips had thinned. She’d noticed his and Tiffani’s interplay. He shrugged. It didn’t matter to him what she thought.

“Meet me here as soon as you’re done. You have your own boots and skis?”

“In my truck.” He’d dug them out of the closet. He didn’t know why he hadn’t gotten rid of them long ago. After this weekend they’d go to the second-time-around sports store. With a nod of understanding he turned and followed the willowy Tiffani into a back room.

Baylie regarded the new guy’s wide shoulders for a second longer than she should have as he walked away. Something about his attitude said he wasn’t happy about her giving him orders. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but maybe it was the way he stood back from the crowd that had drawn her attention. He’d have to get over that. She ran the show as far as the courtesy patrol was concerned.

The man’s looks and bearing said he was used to being the center of attention. If she hadn’t been short of volunteers she might have questioned him further, but a warm body that could stand up on skis would be better than nothing on the slopes. Today she’d have to deal with the situation and keep a close eye on him. She had the idea that he wasn’t going to be her most agreeable volunteer. She liked her helpers to follow directions and not question her decisions. This one was already crossing ski poles with her.

Kyle wasn’t gone long before he returned in a red coat that made his dark features more pronounced. He was wearing ski boots but the buckles remained unlatched, and he carried a pair of high-end skis that few could afford. Who was this guy?

Coming out from around the counter, Baylie lifted her jacket off a peg as she moved. Slipping an arm into one sleeve, she quickly looked behind her when the jacket lightened. Kyle was holding it up for her. She finished pulling it on, zipped it and mumbled, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

A gentleman. His deep voice made her think of a warm fire after a cold, rainy day. Soothing. She shook her head to clear that unexpected thought. She didn’t need to be thinking about any man in that vein. That was one place she wasn’t going to go again. Losing Ben the way she had had been too hard. She had plenty of issues to handle without adding a surly volunteer to the mix. No matter how appealing he was. She wasn’t interested in being with anyone. Baylie started toward the outside door. The clomp of his boots on the cement floor matched hers as he followed.

On her way Baylie picked up a handheld radio off the dock station and gave it to him. “Here, you’ll need this.”

When his long fingers brushed hers, she let go, almost dropping the radio. But he grabbed it just in time. She drew in a breath of nervous relief. At the ski rack she lifted her skis from where they hung on the pegs. “So are you an intermediate or experienced skier?”

“I’m more than capable of skiing the bunny slope, if that’s what you want to know.”

Why the attitude? Was there some reason he wouldn’t give a straight answer about his abilities? Overly self-assured men weren’t her favorites. The guys in Iraq acted the same way every time they were sent on a mission. Especially Ben. It was as if he’d thought he was invincible. But he hadn’t been. “A direct answer to my question would be nice.”

“Then, yes, I’m experienced.”

“Good. the beginner slope is this way.” She put emphasis on “beginner”. “We do not call it the bunny slope.”

She didn’t miss the slight upturn of his mouth.

Baylie put her skis across her shoulder and started hiking up the low, snow-covered rise.

“By the way, why is it called ‘courtesy patrol’ instead of ‘ski patrol’?”

“Because we don’t want to be perceived as the policemen of the slopes. We are here to encourage courtesy and safety. Courtesy implies a kinder, gentler way of letting people enjoy the freedom of their vacation and holidays, with a reminder to be careful.”

“That makes sense. Nice idea. Unusual, but nice.”

Ahead of them at the top of the grade lay the ski school.

“So there isn’t a rope pull?” His voice held surprise.

Baylie smiled as she glanced at the short and slow ski lift off to their left. “No, we’re more advanced than that. We don’t believe in a ‘glove destroyer’, as we call it. Kids should learn to ride the lift. It’s just as important as learning to stand on skis.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” he mumbled as his strong strides took him farther along the slope.

When they had walked far enough Baylie stopped and placed her skis on the snow. “We’ll ski down and ride up.”

“Don’t you mean ride up and ski down?”

“No. This is a reverse mountain. Here we stay on the top of the mountain and ski down. I know, at all the other resorts you stay at the bottom of the mountain and ride the lift up.” Shoving the toe of one boot into the binding, she pressed down on her heel until the click indicated her boot was secure. Hearing no movement from the man beside her, she looked in his direction.

His skis were butted into the snow, making them stand straight up beside him. A large hand, red from being exposed to the weather and white at the knuckles, held them upright. He’d made no move to put them on. He looked off over the landscape as if in a trance.

“Is there a problem?” Baylie followed his look, seeing nothing more than the beautiful countryside covered in white. She loved this place.

“No,” he said, almost too sharply. “I was just admiring the view.” He placed one ski on the ground carefully followed by the other then clamped his boot buckles closed.

With a quick slip and push she had her other ski snapped into place. Done, Baylie glanced at him again. She didn’t miss the small hesitation before he clicked his binding. In a smooth movement that showed his experience, his second ski went into place.

“Lead on,” he said.

She pushed off.

Every nerve in Kyle’s being went as taut as a tightrope. If he didn’t get it together, he’d be the clown in the circus. With relief, he felt his muscles contract and release as he moved downhill. It was coming back. For him skiing again was like the old saying about it being like riding a bike.

He followed the snow pixie ahead of him with the slightest unsteady movement before he felt control returning to his body. Making a maneuver with confidence he didn’t entirely feel, he slid up beside her in the lift line.

“Got your ski legs, I see. You’ll need them. The beginner slope may be our easiest slope but it’s also our busiest.”

Had she noticed his reluctance? He couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—let that happen. Something about her made him believe that she didn’t tolerate weakness in others, or in herself. He had no intention of letting his show. There could be no reason for questions. He looked her straight in the eyes.

“I’m aware of the type of skiers on the beginner slope. I can handle my assignment.”

“It’s my job to see that the resort visitors have a good time and are safe while doing it. I take it seriously, and you should too.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said in a placatory tone that indicated he had no plan to yield to her position.

They slid into place to wait on their lift seat then took a chair when it came around.

Despite their difference in size, Baylie’s leg brushed his, from hip to knee. A zip of awareness ran along his thigh. Even through the thickness of their ski gear he was conscious of her feminine curves pressed against him. Her personality might be prickly, but there was nothing uncomfortable about her softness.

Baylie shifted as if trying to put space between them but the limited seating area brought her leg back against his. For that brief moment when she’d pulled away, coolness had filled the gap and was replaced by heat when her leg met his again.

She inhaled deeply and released the breath slowly. “You’ll be expected to patrol this area and help anyone who needs it. Please pay special attention to the adults. The kids seem to get how to ride a lift right off but the adults can take out a group of skiers waiting in line faster than an avalanche.”

Kyle couldn’t help but chuckle at that turn of phrase. He’d seen it happen. They grinned at each other. For once that serious look had left her face. Where she’d been noticeably wholesome looking before, with a smile she became strikingly attractive.

Their skis touched snow again. After one unsure wobble, he skied off beside her. Success. Baylie seemed quite deft on her skis, making him all the more conscious of his lack of confidence.

“You have your radio. If you need anything, call in and someone with be here to help.”

With those final words Kyle watched as she skied off down the gentle slope in the direction from which they’d come and proceeded without a pause over the side of the mountain. She seemed very confident both on the snow and in her job. At one time he had been about the latter, but not now. Taking a deep breath, he marshaled his determination to get along with the patrol leader and get through the next two days, before putting his skis up forever.

Baylie wasn’t certain about the new guy.

He’d looked unsure for a moment when they’d been putting on their skis but that expression had disappeared quickly as they’d skied to the lift. If his confident attitude meant anything then he thought he could do anything well. It was one thing to be independent, another to be reckless. That she knew firsthand, and wasn’t impressed by it. She’d make a point of checking on him regularly during the day. It was important for the courtesy-patrol volunteers to display self-assurance on the slopes, not superiority.

Around midday Baylie skied off the lift that stopped at the top of the mountain. She’d made her rounds a number of times and had once found the new guy helping a girl up and later stopping an experienced skier to instruct him not to ski so fast through the learner area.

This visit Baylie skied up beside him. “You seem to be catching on pretty quick.”

“Most of it is just common sense,” he said with a smile.

It was a nice smile that was bracketed by half-moon lines on each side of his mouth. She couldn’t see if it reached his eyes because of his sunglasses but she hoped it did.

“Is the entire patrol made up of volunteers?”

“Yes. Most of them just enjoy having a free day of skiing in exchange for their help. They are snow junkies glad to be on skis.”

“You are the only paid staff member?”

“I am. The management feels it makes for a friendlier resort for families to have the patrol staffed by volunteers. If the patrol consisted of all paid personnel they might think they were in authority over the skiers. The management sees us as a partner in fun. It is a subtle difference but a significant one.”

He grinned. “Interesting way to think of things. I can certainly see the marketing value.”

Anyway, this was more like it. She was glad to see that he seemed at ease. His smile alone was one that the resort patrons would like—especially the women.

“Enjoying yourself?” she asked.

“It hasn’t been bad. I’ve been plenty busy.”

“I told you so.” She grinned at him. “Someone will be along to relieve you so you can have lunch. Do you know where to go to find some?”

“No, but I brought mine with me, anyway.”

Had he made his own lunch, or did he have a significant other at home? For years her mother had packed her father’s lunchbox before he’d left for the mine. It didn’t matter. That information wasn’t her business.

“Okay, I’ll see you later.” She shifted her weight and started downhill.

“You know, I don’t need anyone checking up on me.”

With a swift shift of her hips she pulled up on the edge of her skis, stopping. “It’s my job to see how my volunteers are doing.”

“Is it your job to do so every hour on the hour?”

“It’s my job to do it as often as I deem necessary.”

“I thought you might just like watching me.”

Why, the egotistical man!

His grin said he knew exactly what she’d been thinking. She wasn’t used to anyone joking with her. More than one person, especially here lately, had told her that she was far too serious.

Before she could respond, the bang from a gun being fired in the distance made her jump. She shifted precariously, ski poles searching for ground to steady herself. It had been almost a year since the blast, and she still didn’t have control over her emotions when she heard a loud noise. Falling apart in front of her volunteers—and particularly this one—wasn’t something she wanted to do. Kyle gave her the impression he didn’t miss many details. She had to learn to handle her fear.

Before she recovered, a large hand wrapped around her upper arm and held her steady. The strength of the fingers was evident even through her bulky jacket.

“You okay?” Kyle’s voice held concern.

She had the feeling that from behind his dark glasses he was watching her closely. “Yeah.” She pulled her arm out of his grasp. “I’m fine.” Heat filled her face, in spite of the weather. “I was just caught off guard.”

“You’re sure?”

Controlling the shaking of her hands, Baylie poked her ski pole firmly in the snow and pushed away. “Yes, I’m sure.” But the words were caught in the wind. She reached the entrance to the intermediate slope, stopped and looked back at him. Even from a distance she could tell his brow was raised in confusion.

Hours later the radio clipped to Baylie’s waist squawked, “Child down on the beginner slope.” It wasn’t the voice of the new guy. For some reason, his she would’ve recognized.

She brought the radio to her mouth. “ETA five.”

Skiing fast, she made her way to the nearest lift and broke through the line. Riding up, she radioed instructions to the patrolman who had given her the report. There was a pause then the man said, “The new guy took her to the clinic.”