Out of Character. Diana Miller

meet him for dinner when she’d meant to refuse. It was as though he’d used his mesmerizing eyes to hypnotize her into doing things she’d never have considered otherwise.

      “I think the only thing making you nervous is that you haven’t been on a first date for more than two and a half years,” Kristen said. “You’ve got first date jitters. Suck it up and go out and have fun.”

      Chapter 2

      Mark scanned the dining area one last time. All clear. He dropped the hand he’d held close to the gun hidden under his sport coat then strode to the black lacquer podium the restaurant hostess was stationed behind.

      “Jillian isn’t here yet, but thanks for letting me check,” he said. “Either she’s even later than I was, or I’m being stood up.”

      “If she doesn’t show, let me know.” The hostess smoothed her wavy dark hair with both hands in a movement that accentuated her impressive bust. “My break’s in fifteen minutes, and I’d be happy to keep you company.” She smoothed her hair again.

      “I’ll remember that.” Although Mark had no doubt Jillian would be here, since she wasn’t late at all. He’d told her he’d make a reservation for seven-thirty then made it for seven. He’d arrived at ten after seven and told the hostess he wanted to check whether Jillian was waiting in the bar occupying one side of the restaurant. He’d actually surveyed the entire place, the bar, the dining area, even the men’s room.

      His friend wasn’t here.

      The hostess shifted her attention to a tanned, silver-haired couple who’d come in.

      Mark positioned himself against a wall in the shadow of the coat check, with a prime view of the double glass doors serving as the only public entrance.

      Funny how things worked out. When he’d gotten to the ski area, he’d realized that good as his disguise was, it would be better if he added a woman. Someone might have been bribed to pass on his current description, but that description would fit many men on the slopes. Being with a woman would prevent him from standing out as a conspicuous lone male. It might even be uncharacteristic enough to keep his friend from giving him a second glance. He had a reputation for liking women, but also for treating them considerately and certainly never endangering an innocent one. No one would expect him to be with a woman now, under these circumstances. As long as he just skied with her, the woman would be perfectly safe. Even if he were recognized, no one would risk shooting him on a busy ski slope.

      He rubbed the beard he’d finally gotten used to. When he’d bought his lift ticket, he’d spotted Jillian in the meeting area for group skiing lessons, talking to a woman he’d bet had been a Longhorns cheerleader thirty years and pounds ago. Jillian had confessed that despite dozens of lessons, she freaked out whenever she got near a chairlift, was only there because she’d promised her best friend she’d give skiing one last chance, and had been so agitated she’d spilled coffee on some poor man at a gas station on the drive to Keystone. Her nervous chatter had convinced him that she was exactly the kind of woman he needed, slightly timid, pretty but not hot enough to attract universal male attention. The kind of woman an accountant would like. So he’d signed up for Jillian’s class, taken the chairlift in front of her, and made sure she’d run into him. After that, it had been easy.

      The outside door opened, admitting two men and a woman. Mark slid his hand underneath his sport coat and grabbed his gun. He didn’t recognize any of the trio, and they went directly to the hostess without sparing him a glance.

      Jillian certainly hadn’t turned out to be the sweet, fragile type her appearance implied. She was an ER doctor at Denver County Hospital, for God’s sake, a place that treated the kind of guys who ended up in his business. He’d only offered to help her so she’d ski with him outside of class, which had given him freedom to look for his friend. Even though she wasn’t at all his type, he’d enjoyed talking to her much more than he’d anticipated. He’d figured he could safely take her to a crowded restaurant, have a few hours of intelligent conversation, and a decent meal, then send her on her way.

      The glass door opened again. He stuck his hand under his sport coat then relaxed when Jillian stepped inside. She’d left her blond hair loose tonight and with her small frame and wide, pale blue eyes, she looked more like a preschool teacher than an ER doctor. Then again, he knew firsthand how deceiving appearances could be.

      He smiled and stepped toward her.

      * * * *

      Jillian slipped from the frigid outside air into the restaurant’s aromatic warmth. Mark stood against the wall right inside the entrance, wearing a gray tweed sport coat over his black jeans and shirt. He smiled, and her relief—and increased temperature and heart rate—proved Kristen had been right about the first date jitters. Of course she was nervous. She hadn’t been close to a man without her stethoscope in more than six months.

      After she checked her ski jacket, the hostess appeared, one of those beautiful, sexy twenty-something women even more prevalent in ski areas than SUV’s. She led them through the restaurant’s dimly lit, sophisticated décor, past tables filled with diners dressed from casual to semi-formal. The hostess spent the entire walk flirting with Mark then left Jillian with a menu and him with a suggestive smile.

      To his credit, Mark didn’t watch her saunter away. He helped Jillian into a black and taupe chair then sat down on her right. They spent several minutes studying the menus and ordering.

      “Did you always want to be a doctor?” Mark asked.

      “When I was a kid I actually wanted to own a pet store,” Jillian admitted. “Mostly because I wanted a dog, and my mom refused to get one.”

      “Why did you give up on the pet store idea?”

      She wrinkled her nose. “I worked in one during high school. Although I still want a dog. I’m getting one as soon as I pay off enough school loans that I can afford to rent a place with a yard.”

      “What made you pick ER medicine?” Mark lips curved slightly. “I’d think an admitted control freak would choose something more predictable.”

      A familiar question. “I grew up in a Chicago neighborhood where nobody went to a doctor unless they had to. ER doctors were the only ones anyone ever saw. Besides, ER’s are usually a lot calmer than on TV, and we’re trained to keep control when things go wild.”

      Their waitress delivered a glass of cabernet to Jillian and a beer to Mark.

      Mark sipped his beer then set the glass on the table. “Chicago’s a great city. Is your family still there?”

      Jillian shook her head. “My parents are both dead, and my only brother’s in Philadelphia. What about your family?”

      “Everyone lives in Connecticut.” He grinned. “Which is close enough to New York for all of us, even though we get along. Have you ever been married?”

      “Never. What about you?”

      “I was. My wife died six years ago.”

      “I’m so sorry. How?”

      Pain flashed over his features. “A car accident. I’d rather not talk about it.”

      “I didn’t mean to pry.”

      “You weren’t.” Mark looked down at Jillian’s hands. “You said you broke a finger skiing. Which one?”

      “The little one on my left hand, so I didn’t get much sympathy.” She wiggled the offending finger. So what if she’d smashed it in a locker inside the lodge? Her agitation about skiing had caused her clumsiness, making it a skiing-related injury.

      “That must have hurt.” He took her hand, examining her finger as he stroked it with his thumb.

      Shivers shot up her arm, across her shoulders, down her spine. “Uh-huh.”

      “It looks a little crooked.” He stroked her palm, his thigh pressing against