There was something different about her stride as she walked across the plaza. She walked taller, maybe. Shoulders back and pointed chin held high in the air. “Karen doing okay?” he asked when she got close enough to hear him. “She went home this morning. I’m all alone in the condo.” Was that flirtation in her voice? Her goggles obscured her eyes so there weren’t any clues there to confirm. And it was entirely possible that he’d spent so much time last night thinking about the blue sports bra she’d been wearing under her cream-colored long-underwear top, and how round and touchable her breasts looked, that his mind was playing tricks on him. If she made another flirtatious comment like the one from the lift yesterday, he was going to flirt back. His no-flings policy wasn’t a no-flirtation policy. Though worrying about a little flirtation was like worrying about closing the barn door after the horses were out. He reached for his skis. Cassie was ready to clomp across the bridge back to the blue side of the mountain when Doug stopped her.
