Believe in Me

Getting a ping at four-thirty a.m., before the coffeemaker had finished hissing out its life-sustaining caffeine, should be illegal. Unfortunately for protective agent Garrett Young, it was an occupational hazard.

As he grabbed an oversize mug from the cupboard, he opened his secure texting service.

Shit. The message was from Hawkeye, the owner of the security firm where Garrett worked. Hearing from the boss himself was never good. And no doubt it meant Garrett wouldn’t be on his noon flight to Cozumel for a much-needed week of diving, sunshine, sand, and beer.

Got a job.

A second missive followed.

The diner. 0600.

Once he’d typed out his affirmative reply, Garrett lasered in on the routine he maintained to keep himself sharp and focused. After downing a cup of coffee, he headed to his in-home gym for some resistance training, followed by sweat-inducing cardio. After a ridiculously cold shower, he shaved, then dressed. Because it was November and he wasn’t on assignment yet, he opted for a casual look: long-sleeved T-shirt, black jeans, and boots.

As he exited his small serviceable apartment near Parker, Colorado, he grabbed a jacket, then cast a regretful glance at the luggage that was stacked and tagged, ready to go to the airport. Good thing he’d purchased travel insurance.

A fifteen-minute drive brought him to the Hungry Bear Diner, one of Hawkeye’s favorite hangouts. It was near headquarters, and massive, no-frills plates of food were served twenty-four hours a day. No matter when he walked in, Garrett could count on seeing some of his colleagues as well as local police officers.

Shirley Labelle had opened the place when she was first married, and the Colorado gem hadn’t changed a bit in the forty-something years since. Modern buildings had sprung up all around the place, yet the diner stood as a testimony to the arduous work of the woman who still showed up and donned an apron every single day.

An overhead bell danced when he walked in the door. Shirley looked in his direction and shouted out a cheery good morning as she continued to cut a piece of her Mile High Lemon Meringue Pie.

Garrett bypassed the counter with its iconic swivel stools and strode toward the back of the restaurant, only to find Hawkeye already there, steaming cup of coffee nearby, and one waiting for Garrett.

They shook hands; then Garrett slid into the booth.

Before they could begin their conversation, Laura, his favorite server, walked over. She had one hand pressed to the small of her back as if to counterbalance her very pregnant stomach. “The usual, Mr. Young?”

Hawkeye answered for both of them. “We won’t be staying.”

There went breakfast. Garrett shrugged.

Without missing a beat, Hawkeye continued. “And the bill.”

“Sure thing.” Before leaving, she smiled at Garrett. “I meant to tell you how much we appreciated the gift card. It paid for a really nice crib. I’m trying get the thank-you notes written, but—”

“Not necessary. Just remember to name the baby after me.”

“I keep telling you she’s a girl.” With a smile, she cradled her belly. “Rylie.”

“Rylie Garrett.” He picked up his coffee. “Sounds perfect together.”

With a good-natured roll of her eyes, Laura promised to be right back.

Hawkeye set his cup down in such a precise way that it never clattered against the saucer. Then he leaned forward.

So much for pleasantries.

“Got a thirty-day assignment with your name on it.”

“I was on my way to the airport when you messaged.”

“Can’t be helped.” With zero concern on his features or even a hint of an apology, Hawkeye shrugged. “Headquarters will reschedule it for you and add another week to compensate for your flexibility.”

Fair trade. “Where am I headed? Guessing it’s not Mexico.”

“Even better. Steamboat Springs.”

The small, if renowned, resort town in the Rockies was about three hours away when traffic was optimal. “Isn’t it a little early for skiing there?”

“The mountain opens tomorrow.”

That had potential. The place was recognized for its light, fluffy snow known as champagne powder. If he could get in a few runs, life would be good. “When do I start?”

“Tonight.”

He should have expected the answer.

“You’ll be attending a fundraiser with a black-and-white theme. A tuxedo will be in your condo when you arrive.”

Refusing the assignment had never been an option.

“The event is at a restaurant accessible only by gondola.”

“Fancy.” The enclosed type of ski lift was always Garrett’s preferred way to make it to the top of a mountain.

“There are two stories. Bar downstairs. Dinner will be served banquet style. Afterward there will be a silent auction and a casino night on the second level. Band on the first floor.”

A lot of space to cover. While it was still warm, Garrett took a drink of his coffee. “And my client?”

“Charlotte Connelly.”

He sat back. The daughter and only child of Malcolm Connelly, no doubt.

Garrett knew of the man. His family had been members of the Zetas, a secret society, for several generations. If he recalled the story correctly, the original Connellys had started in the 1800s in the textile business and had acquired other manufacturing companies after the first industry suffered because of World War I.

Malcolm Connelly was as brilliant as his ancestors, and now his interests ranged from agriculture to manufacturing, electric vehicles, pharmaceuticals, even wind generation. If rumors could be believed, he was also involved with plenty of illicit endeavors.

Connelly and Company was also one of Hawkeye’s biggest clients. Not only did they provide internet security, but they also protected the privately held corporation’s physical assets and provided Malcom with personal protection.

“Where do I come in?”

“About a month ago, Aubrey Lewis, the primary agent assigned to Ms. Connelly got married and asked for a transfer to admin. Ms. Connelly declined to have another operative assigned.”

His favorite kind of case. A protectee who didn’t want him around.

“While she’s in Denver, his protective agents watch her, so he doesn’t worry as much. But she’s headed to the family ranch for a month. She goes every year, represents the company at the event you’re attending, then works remotely. Tries to get in a few hikes. Spends some time in nature. Dines out. Goes to the gym. Becomes another tourist.”

And her father wouldn’t like her being up there alone and so exposed. Garrett didn’t blame the man. No doubt there were workers and caretakers, but still, for a woman who’d been a kidnap risk since she was born…?

Laura brought the check and a carafe of coffee that Hawkeye waved off but Garrett looked at longingly.

Hawkeye slid a fifty-dollar bill across the table. “Keep the change.”

Wide-eyed, she glanced at Garrett.

Garrett grinned. “It will help with diapers…or something.” Whatever babies needed.

Promising to see him again when she returned from parental leave, she thanked Hawkeye, then hurried off to help other customers.

“We’ve got two agents already on surveillance. And you’ll have an entire team at your disposal. Also giving you Torin Carter and Mira Araceli.”

“Heard they were a couple. Aren’t they at Aiken?” He was referring to Hawkeye’s Nevada training center.

“They will do rotations there. But we’ve found it advantageous to use them on assignment, posing as a married couple.”

Which they would be soon if rumor could be believed.

“Jacob Walker will be an ongoing resource.”

“Didn’t he retire?”

For the first time this morning, Hawkeye cracked a grin. “So he said.”

Garrett’s phone dinged, the familiar tone of a message from headquarters, no doubt an encrypted file with a dossier and all the information he’d need, along with the logistical arrangements, including his cover story and where he’d be living.

“You’re ops commander, and you have a two o’clock with your team at Walker’s ranch.”

“Aubrey Lewis available for a consult? I’d like to have her join the meeting remotely, if possible.”

“I’ll see what I can do. There’s a jet at your disposal, and I’ll have a driver at your place in”—Hawkeye checked his watch—“less than an hour.” After rapping his knuckles on the table, he stood. “One more thing.”

Isn’t there always?

“Ms. Connelly cannot know who you are.”

What the actual hell? “Jesus, Hawkeye. You want me to fucking lie to her?”

“Use whatever means you have to get close enough to her that you’re inside her house.”

~~**~~

Before seven-thirty a.m., Garrett was jogging up the stairs that led to the private jet. He’d only been on a Hawkeye plane twice before. Military service had left him accustomed to uncomfortable, bare-bones flights, so he soaked up the luxury. The fact that Hawkeye had made the resource available spoke to the urgency of the mission.

As he stepped into the plane, a flight attendant smiled and reached for his carry-on. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Young. French roast is brewed. Cream, no sugar?”

This job was looking better by the minute. “Thank you. Yes.”

“Garrett.”

The voice, and the accent were as familiar as they were welcome and shocking. It couldn’t be. He swung his head toward the cockpit. “Svetlana?”

“Good to see you.”

He took in the former Russian spy, who was now Julien Bond’s personal pilot. As always, she was crisp and professional in a tailored uniform, and a jaunty hat was perched atop her head. But none of that took away from the calculated gleam in her dark eyes. She could kill a man a hundred different ways, and torture him in a thousand more. And that was only part of her charm. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“I’m taking the Tornado home, so dropping you off is no hardship.”

He glanced around. “So this is it?” The tricked-out, ultra-luxurious flying machine built by and for Bonds.

“As you said…” She tipped her head to the side as she studied him. Then she slowly gave one of her famous half-smiles. “You got lucky.”

“How’s married life treating you?” He glanced at her left hand. The diamond she’d been sporting the last time he’d seen her was missing.

“He’s no longer…around.”

What the hell did that mean?

“Make yourself comfortable, sir.” The flight attendant jolted him back to reality. “We’ll have you on the ground at the Yampa Valley Airport in about forty minutes.”

“More or less.” Svetlana tipped her hat before returning to the cockpit.

His stomach took a nosedive. She’d flown fighter jets and was reputed to love exploring her current aircraft’s capabilities.

He sat next to a window in a massive seat covered in butter-soft leather. The area around him was tricked out with wireless chargers and electronic gadgets. If he were braver, he’d look at the screen in front of him, showing the plane’s telemetry. Instead he selected a channel that was showcasing a couple shopping for their own private island.

The flight attendant brought him a cup of coffee and handed him his duffel bag, and another attendant closed the cabin door.

He took a long sip of the strong brew, then quickly put the drink down as Svetlana began to taxi. Good God. It already felt as if she’d reached Mach one.

Since there was nothing else to do, he opened the file that headquarters had sent over.

Operation Snowfall.

Appropriate, especially given the upcoming weather forecast.

Because she refused protection and everything was secretive, the plan was more convoluted than normal, and it demanded a ridiculous amount of manpower. But Malcolm Connelly was willing to pay the price.

Two agents who’d been nearby arrived at the ranch less than thirty minutes after Charlotte had stepped foot on the property. In short order, they’d set up surveillance and deployed a drone. They had eyes on her. But not much more could be done until they had more resources on the ground.

He’d be staying at a two-bedroom ski-in, ski-out condominium. His cover was that of a cryptocurrency broker. And he was old army buddies with Jacob Walker.

His soon-to-be bride, Elissa, had donated a print to the evening’s fundraiser, giving her and Jacob a reason to be there. He’d be going to show support for his friends. Torin and Mira would also be in attendance. They supposedly had several properties around the country and spent time wherever the weather was best. They were planning to buy near Steamboat and wanted to meet new people.

Though plans would be finalized later in the day at the Walker ranch, the recommended tactic was for them to watch the platform where the gondola loaded. When Connelly approached, they’d signal him to move, and he’d follow her into the car.

Which brought him back to his protectee.

The plane leveled out and headed over the freshly dusted peaks of the Rockies, and he entered the passcode to open the dossier. The more he knew about her, the better.

Pretty straightforward. Graduated top of her college class, currently single, one broken engagement, never married, and no known current romantic entanglement. In addition to running her father’s holding company, she served as president of its philanthropic endeavors.

She was an only child whose mother died in a tragic ski accident when Charlotte was eleven. Since Malcolm had never remarried, she was the heir apparent to a corporation valued in the billions of dollars.

The file had all the basic information, but it told nothing of the person she was. Spoiled or down to earth? Not that it mattered. Her personality had nothing to do with his job. He didn’t have to like someone to save their ass. If that were a requirement, he would have stepped over the dead body of more than one protectee.

At the end of the information was a set of pictures, most of them recent and probably captured from the company’s website. The largest showed her wearing a blazer, arms crossed. Had the uninspired business pose been her choice or the photographer’s?

Her hair was pulled back from her face. She wore little makeup—a hint of nude lipstick, maybe a single swipe of mascara, nothing more.

But he noted her vitals. Blue eyes. Blonde hair. Slender build.

Absently he closed the file, then did an internet search. The first hit brought up an article on Scandalicious, an online gossip magazine. The first article made him raise an eyebrow: “Broken-Hearted Heiress.” The accompanying picture was grainy, showing her getting into a sedan. If he was correct, the Hawkeye agent had been shielding her from the camera.

The article didn’t have many details, but a representative for Connelly and Company confirmed that Charlotte’s engagement had ended and requested privacy on her behalf.

A broken engagement was always shitty. When the news was fodder for paparazzi, it had to be worse.

Nothing could have prepared him for the next article.

It focused on her charitable works, and instead of the stuffy shot he expected, this was a candid, snapped on top of an unnamed mountain.

She was wearing tight-fitting, curve-loving black leggings and a puffy parka. Her blue eyes sparkled. A headband protected her ears, and her hair shimmered in the sunlight.

Her smile captivated him. It radiated freedom and pure, unadulterated joy.

“You’re not what I expected, Ms. Connolly.” He closed the file and tipped back his head. “Not what I expected at all.”

Along with Torin and Mira, Garrett exited the SUV and headed toward Walker’s house.

As he climbed the stairs, a roar echoed off to Garrett’s left, and instinctively he reached for his sidearm.

“Stand down.” Torin cautioned.

With a pounce, an enormous animal appeared on the porch in front of them. Then, hissing and spitting, it raised onto its haunches, standing between them and the entryway.

Mira laughed. “That’s the welcoming committee.”

In case it went for his jugular, he refused to take his eyes off the thing. “What the hell is it? A lynx?”

Mira’s tone was light. “It’s a Waffle.”

“A what?”

“Walker’s pet.”

He lowered his hand. “Who the fuck guards their house with a mountain lion?” At least it offered lethal protection.

The front door opened, and a woman with dark wavy hair met them with a smile, a smile that faded when she looked at Garrett and the way he glared mistrustingly at the creature in front of him.

“Sorry.” The woman hurried across the porch and sighed as she bent to pick up the wiggling, teeth-baring thing.

“Respect to you.” She was braver than he was.

Tone somewhere between soothing and exasperated, she crooned in its ear. “We’ve talked about this a dozen times, Waffle.”

As if a switch had been flipped, the hissing became a purr.

The change was so abrupt Garrett shook his head to clear it.

“I’m Elissa.” The woman extended her hand. “You must be—”

“Terrified,” he interrupted.

She grinned. “She has that effect on people.”

“Garrett Young.” Warily he accepted Elissa’s hand.

“Waffle is a Maine Coon. She’s a stray who thinks she owns the place. According to her vet, this kind of cat vocalizes more than others.”

Vocalizes. Interesting choice of words.

Now that he was out of the line of fire, he appreciated her markings, along with the dollop of white on the end of her nose.

“Anyway, let’s get you out of the cold before you freeze to death.” Elissa entered the house, and he followed at a respectful distance.

When everyone was inside with the cold sealed out, he offered a better greeting. “Nice to meet the future wife of my old buddy.”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure how we’re going to pull off this mission of yours.”

A few seconds later, Jacob joined the small entourage. “Welcome to Starlight Mountain Ranch.”

“The views are spectacular.” He’d enjoyed them more from the ground than he had from the airplane because Svetlana’s airport approach had his stomach in knots.

“You should see it in summer.”

Garrett shook hands with the operative he hadn’t seen in years. He knew the man’s reputation, heard of his heroics in Peru. Stuff of legends. “The peace doesn’t drive you crazy?”

“It’s helps keep me sane.” He glanced at Elissa, and his expression softened.

Damn. Had he ever had that kind of reaction to a woman before? He tumbled through the inventory of his relationships and came up blank. Sure, he’d heard of love. But if that’s what it looked like, he’d sure as hell never experienced it.

“We’re setting up in the dining room. Three of our agents are already here. Waiting on Morrison. Two others are out on surveillance.” Jacob pointed toward the rear of the house, and Garrett, Torin, and Mira headed that way.

When they arrived, the others in attendance stood to meet Garrett and said how much they were looking forward to working together.

Jacob had done an excellent job of transforming his home into a working environment, including enormous whiteboards and bulletin boards—complete with pictures of Charlotte and her home, even some aerial views. Blueprints were also tacked up alongside a map of Steamboat Springs. A large monitor was attached to the wall so that their protectee’s former agent could join the meeting.

But that’s where the resemblance to headquarters ended. Here there was an endless view of the meadow and a mountain beyond. And a sideboard held platters of cold cuts, breads, chips, even cookies.

The doorbell rang, and Waffle darted through the house. Garrett shook his head.

Less than three minutes later, everyone was onsite.

“The food is compliments of our new housekeeper,” Elissa said. “Soft drinks and bottled water are in the refrigerator. Help yourselves.”

“Coffee?” Torin asked.

“There’s a fresh pot in a carafe.”

Things fell into a natural order. After grabbing food, Jacob took the chair at the head of the table with Elissa to his right and everyone else filling in.

As mission commander, Garrett stood. “Thanks for allowing us the use of your ranch, Walker.”

“It was Hawkeye. Did I have a choice?”

People nodded or chuckled in sympathy.

Then Garrett addressed the operatives who would be providing surveillance. They’d received the same packets of intel he had. “As you know, we’ll be covering the ranch twenty-four hours a day.” This would be a hell of a lot easier if she were amenable to being protected. They could set up inside her house, and it wouldn’t require this kind of manpower. Not that Hawkeye didn’t know that. And Charlotte’s dad was willing to foot the bill. “We’ll use three teams of two people, eight-hour shifts. We’ll rotate in new resources in one week unless you’d like to volunteer to stay on.”

He waited for the team to nod. “You can either choose your partner or I can do it for you. Any volunteers for shifts? Or do we want to do it the old-fashioned way and flip a coin?”

Morrison spoke up. “I’m good for overnights.”

“Same.” A female agent nodded.

Quickly assignments were accepted, which left the team already on surveillance with day shift. “Good of you to leave the primo spot for the agents already in the field.”

The two other agents would be on call to tail her and to fill in if necessary.

Headquarters had already provided descriptions of the vehicles being used by Hawkeye employees. “Anything suspicious should be communicated. Anytime she leaves her property, we need to know. As usual, show up for your shift fifteen minutes early for a smooth handoff.”

Morrison spoke up. “Got it.”

“Tonight’s event starts at seven. So we anticipate our target”—He paused to think. On radio communications, she wouldn’t be referred to by name—“call sign Snow Queen, will be enroute up to an hour before that.”

A member of the second shift acknowledged the order as did the agents who were going to follow her. “Copy.”

“Torin, Mira, you’ll be onsite with me.”

“Outside in the cold.” Mira affected a shiver.

If he were in Cozumel, he’d be drinking a rum punch right about now. His phone chimed, and he checked the message, then glanced at Jacob. “Agent Lewis is ready.”

Within minutes, her image appeared on the screen. She was no-nonsense with short hair and a button-down blouse.

Garrett stood in front of the camera. “Thanks for joining us.”

“This isn’t going to be an easy job.”

He waited.

“You already know she refused protection. And she’s good at looking after herself. She can shoot competently and kick your ass if she’s inclined.”

He liked Ms. Connelly more and more.

“Charlotte’s accustomed to looking over her shoulder, she’s smart, and she doesn’t trust easily. It takes time to build it.”

Something they didn’t have an abundance of. “What can you tell us about her habits?”

“She works out at the fitness center at the Chateau Sterling.”

Right at the ski resort.

“Most often she’ll get a coffee afterward at Java Nice Day. Sometimes she browses the shops and galleries downtown and has her coffee there.”

Discomfort snaked up Garrett’s spine, and he exchanged glances with Torin.

“Almost always she’ll stop at the market before going home. And I’ll tell you this. I’ve never seen anyone who works as hard as she does or sleeps so restlessly. She’s awake half the night. Sometimes she bakes.”

Interesting.

“In summer she’ll hike. In winter she enjoys snowshoeing.”

Covering that could be a nightmare.

“Occasionally she skis. Maybe once a week she’ll have dinner with friends.”

Every bit of intelligence was valuable. “Anything else?”

“She’s a thoughtful person. She bought my wedding dress. Went all the way up the line at headquarters for approval since we’re not allowed to accept gifts—kept asking until she got the answer she wanted. I’ll tell you this: if she finds out what you’re doing, there will be holy hell to pay.” Agent Lewis walked a pen through her fingers. “Good luck. You’ll need it.” Then she ended the video call.

That was encouraging. “Questions?”

When there were none, Jacob distributed the electronics that had been sent to his house.

After everyone else left, he sat back down with Jacob and Elissa.

“Agent Aubrey is right. Charlotte is smart. I hate being part of something that tricks her.”

“I agree that the situation is not ideal.” He just hoped the whole thing didn’t blow up in their faces.

~~**~~

It was damn, fucking cold and already dark as Garrett lurked in the shadows near the gondola building. Movies never showed how an agent’s fingers turned blue and his toes froze in ridiculously thin socks stuffed inside a pair of dress shoes.

For the dozenth time, he slipped his finger beneath the bowtie at his throat. Since he could never remember how to knot the damn things, and Hawkeye hadn’t provided one that clipped or just hooked together, he’d spent way too much time watching videos. He just hoped the results made him passable.

“Snow Queen acquired.” Torin Carter’s calm, measured voice slid through Garrett’s earpiece.

About damn time. He’d been in the mountains less than half a day, and he was already tired of playing the abominable snowman. “Copy that.” At a crisp pace, he headed inside the gondola terminal.

Mira spoke next. “I’m in place at the restaurant.”

“Heading onto the platform.”

“Roger.” As he removed his earpiece and slid it into his jacket pocket, Garrett moved in behind Charlotte.

Her gown was full-length, and it hugged her rear as if she’d been poured into it. What part of this op had he thought would be easy?

There was no way she could possibly be warm with her bare arms, yet if she were uncomfortable, she didn’t show it.

The lift operator greeted her, and she presented her invitation.

“Have a good evening, ma’am.”

This lift was state-of-the-art, and she didn’t have to step up to get inside. But still, there was a transition that he could use to his advantage.

He held out his own invite so there’d be no delay in boarding.

Snow Queen lifted the front of her dress. Holy fuckballs. The gown was slit to midthigh, and she was wearing stiletto pumps that whispered dirty things to his baser instincts.

Jesus. This was a job. Wanting to be close to her would never be an issue for him. Lying to her—about every single thing—might be. “Allow me.”

She looked at him over her shoulder.

Her eyes radiated distrust. He wanted to sweep that away, slay her dragons. “I’d hate for your heel to get stuck.” It wasn’t a likelihood that it would wedge between the door and the platform, but it was a possibility in some alternate universe. “And another car is coming.” Well, he’d read the specs. They had at least another thirty seconds, so he flashed a smile filled with charm as he offered his arm.

She glanced around before sliding her hand against his. It was warm and so much smaller than his, igniting his need to protect. Even if she weren’t his assignment, he would have treated her the same way. “Always a pleasure to help. My mother would slap me into next week if I didn’t treat a lady with respect.”

Instead of reacting, Snow Queen moved to the far side and took a seat against the window, putting as much distance between them as possible. He winced. She was the first woman that line hadn’t worked on.

He sat opposite her, allowing her the space she needed.

Seconds later, the door closed, and the cabin headed up Mt. Werner.

They effortlessly lifted into the air, traveling over hotels and homes, the lights beneath them like something out of painting.

Tonight’s sky was inky, and the plump clouds moved slowly. For the ambiance he wanted to create, he’d prefer a more magical evening with twinkling stars and the moon peeping at them. Skiers and the resort itself would disagree with him completely.

Playing cool, he pulled out his phone and began taking pictures, then took a goofy selfie. Then, pretending to hesitate, he cleared his throat. “Do you mind? I’m terrible at this.” He offered his phone to her.

For a moment, he thought she might refuse. But taking pictures of strangers wasn’t an unusual request. Her not following social convention would be. “My sister doesn’t believe I’m actually going to a fundraiser.” He scoffed. Then he grinned. “Truth is, I wouldn’t be if my friend’s wife hadn’t donated a picture tonight. He’s an army buddy. Said it would mean a lot to them if I came.” He extended his arm a little more. “You just have to touch that circle at the bottom of the screen.”

Eventually she placed her tiny clutch next to her and accepted the device.

He spread his arm wide and made a ridiculous face.

Shaking her head, she brought the screen in front of her. As she moved, the wrap slid from her shoulders.

Her creamy, dreamy shoulders.

“There.”

Exactly as he expected, her voice was firm and no-nonsense, just like the rest of her. Well, the damn dress was a surprise, and so were her shapely calves and legs that went on for days. And those fuck-me shoes…? There was more to the Snow Queen than anyone realized.

“I took two. Just in case.”

Meaning he couldn’t pretend the first one hadn’t worked. Clever.

He pretended an interest in the pictures she’d taken, and outside snowflakes drifted past them.

The cabin slid to a stop and the doors opened. This time, the lift operator offered his assistance. Couldn’t win them all.

Garrett slid his earpiece back into place and touched his mic. “Snow Queen’s on the move.”

Mira responded. “I’m in the bar.”

“Carter?”

“In the car behind you.”

Keeping a respectful distance, Garrett followed Snow Queen to the restaurant. None of his attempts at small talk had worked. He just hoped he’d cracked the ice enough that when they bumped into each other, she was a little more trusting.

While Charlotte mingled with a few friends, he headed to the bar. After securing a scotch, he stood with his back to a window, giving him a view of the foyer and coat check.

Because the upstairs was cordoned off for the time being, keeping track of her wasn’t too difficult.

At the front of the room, the president of the organization announced that dinner was about to be served.

Charlotte joined the woman at table number one, and Garrett was sitting with Jacob and Elissa.

Champagne flowed, and that always helped to loosen wallets at a charity function.

After the plates had been cleared and dessert finished, the president thanked all the attendees and mentioned the donors by name. When Elissa’s name was called, she stood and waved. Which meant Charlotte saw him next to her. Since the two were acquainted, he could hope it helped her trust him, just a little.

Then the president introduced Charlotte as the evening’s major sponsor, including a twenty-five thousand dollar check to help young children explore their creative sides through outreach programs.

“Charlotte, do you mind saying a few words?”

With a regal bearing she walked the short distance to join the president and accepted the microphone.

“This is always one of my favorite events of the year, and it gives me a chance to get away to this beautiful place. Even the weather is cooperating to bring us a spectacular opening day tomorrow.”

Over the past hour, the intensity of the snow had picked up, and it was blowing around.

“The arts have a special place in my heart. I’ve surrounded myself with pieces many of you have created. Sculptures, paintings, drawings, glass works. They all speak to me in a different way. Some bring peace or joy. Others are useful. And many are provocative, appealing to us on a soul level.”

Interesting. Those were words he hadn’t expected to hear.

“I’m sure you’re anxious to open your wallets to bid on all the amazing things that have been donated.”

Laughter rippled through the room.

“There’s something for you specially, I promise. How about a vacation? Mexico? To wine country? We also have a few spa days available. Trips to the hot springs. Dinners at local restaurants. Or coffee for a year.”

After each item, people cheered.

“We have something spectacular for you this evening. We’ve created a gallery-like experience onsite. At the back of the upstairs room you’ll find a partitioned area. A curator has hung each piece and added lighting that will give you an idea of how the artwork will look in your home or office.”

Interesting idea.

“We have art that will wow your senses. Imagine the thrill of owning a spectacular piece that’s very likely one of a kind. Every bid you place helps support this community that we all love so much.”

She paused, looking around. “We’ll have plenty of entertainment tonight. A fantastic band. Upstairs, in addition to the silent auction items, there will be casino gambling. Craps, poker, roulette, and card tables. And with that…” Then her radiant smile lit the room. “Let the games begin!”

Yes, indeed. Let the games begin, Ms. Connelly.