The Right Mr. Wrong. Cindi Myers

Hagan after he had shut the office door.

      Hagan shook his head. “She will be cutting her vacation short to take care of her injury,” he said. He dropped into one of two chairs in front of Ben’s desk. “Have you met Maddie? She is our newest patroller.”

      “Pleased to meet you, Maddie.” Ben offered his hand. “Ben Romney.”

      “It’s good to meet you, Dr. Romney.”

      “Ben, please. What brings you to ski patrol?”

      “I thought it was time to try something different,” she said. “Ski patrol sounded interesting.”

      The explanation struck Hagan as incomplete. Why would a world-class athlete retreat to a somewhat remote Colorado resort when she might have scored a lucrative gig as a rep for an equipment manufacturer, an outdoor clothing model or even the resident pro on a resort’s marketing payroll? Why put up with the hard work, injured tourists and low pay of ski patrol?

      “She was a ski racer,” he said. “World Cup. Headed for the Olympics.” Apparently she had left the team after a bad accident, but he did not know the details.

      Ben leaned forward, definitely more interested now. “What’s your last name?”

      She sent Hagan a pained look. Hey, why was she ticked at him? It wasn’t as if her past was a big secret. “Alexander. Maddie Alexander.”

      “Awesome Alexander!” Ben grinned. “I remember reading about you in Sports Illustrated.”

      “Yeah.” Her gloomy expression was more worthy of a write-up in Mortician’s Monthly.

      “You were written up in some of the medical journals, too,” Ben said. “The titanium repair on your tibia? And the artificial joint in your hip?”

      She nodded, her face pale. Hagan stood and pushed a chair toward her. She looked as if she might faint. “Sit down,” he ordered, and she did so. He glared at Ben.

      Ben had the grace to flush. “Sorry. I forget not everyone’s as interested in catastrophic medicine as I am. Heather has to remind me not to discuss surgery at dinner.”

      “She is a wise woman,” Hagan said. Mostly because Heather had finally gotten over the silly crush she had had on him last summer and had focused on a man who really cared for her—the way Hagan never could have.

      There was a knock and the nurse stuck her head in the door. “Your patient is ready to go,” she said.

      “We had better get back to work, too,” Hagan said as Maddie popped to her feet.

      “It was nice meeting you, Maddie.” Ben offered his hand. “Welcome to Crested Butte.”

      “Thanks.” She shook his hand and flashed a warm smile. Hagan felt a pinch of jealousy that such a look had not been directed at him.

      Which only proved his ego was as big as the next guy’s. He was not interested in dating Maddie, but there was no reason they could not be friends.

      They followed Ben into the clinic’s reception room, and found Julie balancing on a pair of crutches. “Oh, Hagan? Could you help me out to my friend’s car?” She fluttered her eyelashes and smiled at him.

      “Of course.” He took one crutch and let her lean on him instead as they made their way to an SUV idling out front. He deposited her in the passenger seat and she pressed a slip of paper into his hand. “Call me,” she whispered, then kissed his cheek.

      He pocketed the paper and stepped back, making no commitment as the SUV pulled away.

      “I’ll go fill out the report,” Maddie said, pushing past him. “You can add your part later.”

      She grabbed her skis from the rack and headed around the side of the building. Ben came to stand alongside Hagan. “What did you do to her?” he asked.

      “Nothing,” he said.

      Ben looked as if he did not believe this. “You didn’t hit on her, did you?” he asked.

      Hagan scowled at him. “No, you know I stay away from the locals.”

      “Yeah.” Ben looked again in the direction Maddie had vanished. “Maybe she’s jealous of you and Julie baby.”

      “Not likely.” He would know if she were interested in him—she showed none of the usual signs.

      “Maybe you should consider breaking your own rule,” Ben said. “She’s good-looking and you two have skiing and patrol in common.”

      “Not my type.” Yes, Maddie was good-looking and independent and she had an interesting background, but she was too prickly for his tastes. Not to mention that being around her made him feel too edgy and uncomfortable. “I will stick with the tourists.” His policy of avoiding emotional entanglements with women had served him well for the past ten years. He saw no need to abandon it now.

      Ben shook his head. “If you think that’s going to keep you from getting caught one day, you’ve got another think coming. Just ask Max.”

      Hagan’s best friend Max Overbridge and newcomer Casey Jernigan were engaged to be married in the summer, as soon as the snow melted enough off the Mountain Garden to hold the wedding there. Hagan was slated to serve as best man. “The difference between me and Max,” Hagan said, “is that Max wanted to be caught, no matter what he says different. Me, I know better.”

      Marriage was a velvet-lined pit, a lure that made a man believe he could find eternal happiness. But there were sharpened sticks waiting at the bottom of the pit. He had been there before and never intended to experience that pain again. Better to indulge in the occasional casual fling with a woman who would soon leave town than to get involved with a woman like Maddie who could truly turn his world upside down.

      Chapter Two

      Maddie finished up the accident report then left it in Hagan’s box for him to sign off on. If he had any questions, he could radio her, but she wouldn’t wait around for him. She didn’t need him thinking she was an adoring fan begging for his attention. Everyone said he was an excellent patroller—and from what she’d seen so far, she’d have to agree—but his Don Juan act was simply too much. When her life was more in order and she was ready to settle into a relationship again, it would be with a man she could respect and count on—not a player like Hagan.

      For now, she’d try to keep her distance from him and not risk saying something that might jeopardize her job.

      She was on her way out of the patrol shack when her roommate, fellow patroller Andrea Dawson, hailed her. Andrea was the only woman on patrol who was almost as short as Maddie’s own five feet. Her straight black hair and almond eyes revealed her Asian heritage. Originally from China, she’d been adopted as an infant by a local couple and had practically grown up on skis. “You busy?” she asked Maddie.

      Maddie shook her head. “No. What’s up?”

      “We just got a report of a couple of snowboarders ducking ropes over by Spellbound and Phoenix. The area’s still closed for avalanche control. I need to go check it out. I could use some backup.”

      “Sure.” Yellow ropes were used to mark the ski area boundaries and to close off areas considered too unstable or dangerous for skiing or riding. But there were always people who thought the rules didn’t apply to them, who risked ducking under the ropes.

      “I hate this part of the job,” Andrea said as she and Maddie rode the Silver Queen lift up the mountain. “These guys always want to give me lip and it’s such a hassle. If it weren’t for the fact they could trigger an avalanche or get hurt I’d tell them to go ahead and kill themselves.”

      Maddie laughed. “Nobody likes ragging on other people, but if anybody gets mouthy with me, I let them have it. It’s a great way to vent my frustrations—if they deserve it.”

      “Guess I’ll watch