Coming In From the Cold(40)

And what was Callie part of, exactly?

"So, you never told me," Willow said, stomping the snow off her boots. "Did you have drinks with the cute radiologist?"

"I think he's seeing someone," Callie answered without meeting Willow's eyes.                       
       
           



       

"Well, did you ask him?" Willow pressed.

"I'm pretty sure."

Willow shook her head, and let out an exaggerated sigh. "You know what I don't get about you?"

"Nope. But you're going to tell me whether I want to know or not, right?"

"I don't understand," Willow continued undeterred, "how you have the  guts to literally restart someone's heart with a thousand volts of  electricity. But you can't risk yours even to ask a guy out for drinks."

"Actually, we don't need a thousand volts anymore. The new defibrillators come in around three hundred."

"You're hopeless."

That was probably true.

"Hey, I see Hazardous!" Willow said, raising a hand to wave at someone.

Callie followed her friend's gaze over to the roped-off area at the base  of the half-pipe. A very attractive man stood there, suited up for the  snow, his helmet under one arm. The pose reminded Callie of old Apollo  astronaut photos. When the guy spotted Willow, a lazy smile broke across  his broad mouth, and he raised a hand in greeting.

"Let's go say hello," Willow prompted, angling through the crowd in his direction.

"After you," Dane said to Callie. And so she followed her friend toward the low fence.

"You've got to meet Hank Lazarus," Willow said over her shoulder. "He  parties a lot harder than we can keep up with these days, but the guy is  seriously fun."

The closer they got, the more Callie stared. Willow's friend might be  seriously fun, but he was also seriously hot. His shaved head was a  military style that usually did nothing for Callie. But it was offset by  big brown eyes and full, sensual lips. He was broad in a way that said  "linebacker" more than "snowboarder," and his cut jaw and cleft chin  were speckled with two or three days' worth of dark whiskers.

As they drew up to him, his chocolaty gaze took them all in. He lifted  an eyebrow, and Callie saw that a barbell-shaped piercing bisected it.  "Hey there," he said in a voice that was low and smoky. "What are you  kids doing in Vermont?"

Sweet baby Jesus. Even his voice was hot.

Willow gave him a quick hug. "We're here to put my old farmhouse on the  market. And Hank, this is my best friend, Callie. She's local."

Hank stuck out a hand, and Callie took it. As his hand engulfed hers,  she felt her cheeks heat. His face was like the sun-too bright to look  at directly. Hank gave her a quick head-to-toe, not even bothering to be  subtle about it. And when he seemed to dismiss her out of hand, she  wasn't even surprised. He was the sort of guy who existed in an  alternate universe, far from beeping medical equipment and green  hospital scrubs.

She was almost relieved when he let go of her hand and looked back up at Dane. "Where are we drinking later?"

But Dane hesitated, glancing toward Willow. "I'm not sure what our plans are."

First, the snowboarder's grin grew tight. "Holy fuck, Danger," he  growled. "Seriously? You are so whipped that you can't agree to a beer  tonight? Let me ask again. Where are we drinking later?"

Dane chuckled, and shook his head. "Chill, asshole. We need to make sure  that the house we haven't seen in six months is still standing. Barring  total destruction, I think a stop at Rupert's could work out."

As if she wanted a vote on the matter, baby Finley let out a squawk  then. Dane bent his knees to bounce her gently, running one of his big  hands soothingly under the bulge in his jacket.

Hank Lazarus watched his friend do this with a bemused expression on his  face. "All right. Unless you get downvoted by the little family,  Rupert's it is."

"Sounds good," Willow said. "Baby's first trip to the bar."

The snowboarder glanced uphill, toward the top of the pipe. "I'd better  get a move on. Dane. Ladies." He gave them a sexy lift of his chin.  "I'll see you later."

The very idea gave Callie a thrill. But of course she probably wouldn't  be there. She was on call today, and that usually didn't end well. Even  if she wasn't summoned to the hospital, she couldn't even have a drink  like a grown-up.

Her life was pure glamour.

Not.

At least her pager hadn't gone off yet. The headliner event-the elite  exhibition-was about to start. The music kicked up a decibel or two, and  the champion snowboarders began to line up at the top of the pipe.  Pictures of the elite athletes began to slide across the big screen  overhead, shifting every few seconds in time with the music. The shots  showed each man in street clothes, complete with stats and nicknames.  Compared to the clean-cut skiers that Callie had met through Dane, these  were the bad boys of winter sports. There were more goatees, ponytails,  tattoos and piercings than a biker bar would boast. Not that Callie had  spent much time around bikers, except when they landed in the hospital.                       
       
           



       

When Hank "Hazardous" Lazarus's picture popped up, Callie could only  stare. In the photo, he was shirtless, and entirely droolworthy. He was  all muscle, covered with ink. "Olympic Silver Medalist," the screen  read.

"They say he's going to bring home the gold this time," Willow mused beside her.

But Callie wasn't interested in his stats. She was still admiring the  man. He was sex on a snowboard, and so far out of her league it wasn't  even funny. Even if she did show up for drinks tonight, if he tried to  talk to her she'd probably swallow her tongue.

The screen flipped back to show the first man in the lineup, and then  the crowd roared. Callie watched one of Hank's teammates take the pipe.  And … wow. The aerial feats were on a completely different level than the  competitors she'd seen before. The rotations were faster, and the tricks  more complicated. And as soon as he finished, another boarder dropped  into the pipe. Since there was no need to pause the action for judging,  the exhibition was continuous. Callie's gaze became trancelike as the  colorful bodies soared and twisted before her eyes.

And then Hank Lazarus's photo reappeared, and Hank came into view on the  lip of the pipe, wearing his silver helmet and goggles. Callie stood up  a little straighter as he dropped into position, his body in a loose,  confident stance. At the opposite peak, he popped higher off the lip  than seemed possible. With that big body tucked tight, he flipped  backward with such casual finesse that Callie gasped. He landed the  trick neatly, his shoulders bobbing with a cocky shrug.

"So that's what it's supposed to look like," Dane muttered. And it was  true. The comparison between Hazardous and the others was stark.

He shot through the pipe again, and his next trick went so high, and  with such whirling ease, that time seemed to stop as he hovered in the  air. The rules of physics appeared not to apply to him. The crowd  whooped when he landed, gliding at top speed through the gully.

Callie held her breath, wondering what miracle he'd pull off next. He  launched again, grabbing the board in one hand and rotating through the  air-once, twice and then a third time. The scenery seemed to change  then, and it took Callie a split second to realize that the sun had gone  behind a cloud. And just as she registered the phenomenon, something  else happened. The snowboard smacked the lip of the pipe, instead of the  snow on the slope below it. Since he'd achieved so much lift, the force  of impact flexed the board, ricocheting the rider back into the air.  Callie watched, helpless, as momentum yanked the man's body through  space, propelling him headfirst and at high speed toward the curving ice  below.

And then his helmet hit the surface first. Hard.

Callie heard herself gasp. After a sickening bounce, his body slid down the ice into the center of the gully.

"Jesus Christ," Dane whispered.

People rushed onto the snow, a dozen of them quickly surrounding him.

Dane took a step forward, as if he wanted to run through the crowd to  help. But Willow put a hand on his arm. "There are a lot of people down  there," she said gently.

He just shook his head. "Get up, man."

But Hazardous lay crumpled and still.

Callie couldn't look away. In her head she heard the drumbeat of  emergency procedure. Checking the vital signs, supporting his neck and  back. But this time, it wasn't her job. At least three of the people  down at the scene wore medical jackets. And even now she could hear the  approach of ambulance sirens. On busy winter weekends, there was always a  bus parked at the bottom of the ski-mountain access road.