Quickly, before she changed her mind, she leaned over and fed the letter, unopened, to the shredder.

Then she sat back with a sigh of relief, feeling as if she’d narrowly avoided a collision with a Mack truck.

Oddly enough, it was the same feeling she’d had when she’d made the decision to come here to Crested Butte. Everyone else thought she was crazy, but right now this was better than any sanity she’d previously known.

WHEN SHE AND MAX MET UP later that afternoon, Casey was surprised to learn they were taking the bus up to Crested Butte Mountain resort. “I’d have to dig out my Jeep to use it,” Max said, carrying a box full of miscellaneous snowboard parts to the bus stop in front of the chamber building. “Besides, the bus is free—the tourist tax dollars at work.”

Casey wasn’t about to admit she’d never taken public transportation before, much less something like this funky painted bus full of tourists. As the aide to the mayor, her father supported public transportation, though he didn’t feel that required him or his family to use it. Casey had traveled by private car, taxi or even limousine service.

“The bus is a great idea,” she said, as she followed him into the vehicle. This one was decorated with a scene of the mountains in summer, covered in wildflowers. She settled onto the seat beside Max and looked around at their fellow passengers: a mom and dad and their three children bundled up in ski jackets and knit caps, a group of teenagers similarly dressed, a young couple holding hands and an older man dressed in a chef’s uniform, obviously on his way to work at one of the resort hotels.

The bus pulled away from the stop and Casey turned her attention to Max. “Where are you taking the box?”

“George Taylor’s, right at the base of the lifts. I didn’t need this stuff and they did, so rather than me send it back and them ordering more, we’re doing a trade.”

“So you have a good relationship with your competition.”

He gave her a duh look. “Pretty much all the business owners up here get along. No reason not to. There’s room for all of us.”

In fifteen minutes the bus dropped them off in front of a soaring wood-and-steel building. “New condos,” Max said. “They sell out as fast as they can build them, so they keep building more.”

Casey turned to take in the tall buildings that rose on all sides. “It certainly looks different here than it does in town,” she said. Rough-hewn stone, oversize timbers and artful use of rusted metal gave the buildings the feel of a Bavarian village—a very tall, very modern Bavarian village. Groups of smiling people, some carrying skis or snowboards, all bundled in colorful parkas, made their way along the walkways between the buildings and the rows of shops that sold ski equipment, clothing and souvenirs.

“The resort is really growing,” Max said as they started up the sidewalk. “The condos have changed the look of the mountain, but that’s progress. The tourists pay the bills and at least we’ve kept it confined to the mountain.”

They came to an icy stretch of pavement and Max took her arm. The chivalrous gesture—or maybe it was the masculine strength of the hand supporting her—sent a pleasant warmth through her. “Thanks,” she said.

“Sure.” She half hoped he’d keep hold of her, but as soon as they were clear of the ice, he released her.

Past the condos, they could see the slopes, the ski lift silent, empty chairs swinging in the cold wind. “Do you ski or snowboard?” Max asked.

“I’ve skied some, on vacations with my parents or friends.” But those trips had really been more about wearing the right fashions and making the right connections than the actual skiing.

“Now that you’re living here, you’ll have the chance to get really good if you want,” he said.

She glanced at him. “Are you really good?”

“I do all right. I have to test out the equipment to sell it, you know.”

They entered the snowboard shop. After the night chill, the interior of the shop felt almost too warm. A young woman in a pink baby-doll T-shirt layered over a white thermal underwear top waved at them. “Hey, Max. George is in the back.”

A bearded young man in a leather apron hailed them from the back of the shop. “Hey, Max.” He took the box from him. “Thanks for bringing these in. Sue’s got a check for you.”

“No problem. This is Casey. She’s new in town—works at the chamber.”

“Welcome to town.” George shook hands with her, then turned back to Max. “Have you seen those new mono-skis I just got in?”

“No. Let me check them out.”

While the men talked equipment, Casey wandered to a rack of clothing and began thumbing through the jackets, pants and knit tops. She’d definitely need to add to her wardrobe of casual clothes. Most of the suits and dresses she’d brought with her were too formal even to wear to work. Even business was a more casual affair in C.B. than it had been in Chicago.

Max collected his check and Casey, then they emerged once more into the cold. A few snowflakes swirled around them. “Let’s grab a bite to eat,” Max said. “The Avalanche has good food.” He nodded to a restaurant across the way.

Casey started to ask if including dinner now made this a date, but refrained. And once they were seated in the restaurant, she had to admit this was like no date she’d ever been on. Max seemed to know everyone and it took fifteen minutes to order their meal because they were constantly interrupted by people. Everyone who stopped by learned that Casey was the new employee of the chamber of commerce. “I’m showing her around, helping her get familiar with the area,” Max said.

“Cool,” his friends said. Or “Welcome to C.B.” No knowing looks or winks were exchanged. Nothing to suggest this was anything more than two friends enjoying a meal.

But it wasn’t exactly like a meal with one of her girlfriends, either. Max ordered what she and her friends had always called “man pizzas”—pies piled with meat and every other topping available. “Is that okay with you?” he asked belatedly.

She shrugged and unfolded her napkin across her lap. “Sure.” When in Rome and all that.

Their pizza arrived and the traffic around their table died down. “Do you know how many snowboarders it takes to change a lightbulb?” Max asked between bites of pizza.

“No, how many?”

“Three. One to change the bulb, one to videotape it and one to say ‘Awesome, dude!’”

She hadn’t expected this and struggled to keep Diet Coke from coming out her nose as she laughed.

“How many ski instructors does it take to change a lightbulb?” Max continued.

She shook her head, laughing.

“Six. One to change the bulb and five others to say ‘Nice turn.’ ‘Nice turn.’ ‘Nice turn.’”

She groaned. “That’s bad.”

“One more and I promise I’ll stop.” He helped himself to another slice. “What are a snowboarder’s last words?”

She shook her head. “I can’t even guess.”

“Dude! Watch this!”

She dissolved into giggles again. It wasn’t that the jokes were so funny, but that he looked so delighted to be sharing them with her. Their eyes met and she felt the definite sizzle of attraction.

She looked away and fussed with the napkin in her lap. Now this definitely didn’t feel like any date she’d had before. None of the men she went out with acted silly or went out of their way to amuse her. And she’d never experienced this sudden shift from laughter to lust. Was it the altitude, the novelty of her surroundings or something else entirely?

They finished eating, Max consuming the lion’s share, then walked back to the bus stop. It had stopped snowing again, but the wind had picked up. The icy chill seemed to slice right through Casey’s coat. She wrapped her arms across her chest and shivered. “I can’t believe it’s this cold in April,” she said.

“Nights can be cold here into the summer,” Max said. He put his arm around her and pulled her close in a hug. “Let me warm you up.”