Warm Winter Love Read Free Page B

of bread and rolls to her. “It’s not half bad at all. I didn’t expect to find skiing this good here.”
    She buttered a flatbread. “You’ve never skied around here before?”
    “No.” He shook his head. “Out West and in New England, but here in Pennsylvania, no. Maybe I should have come before now.”
    The waiter put bowls of soup in front of them.
    “Would you like wine?”
    “No, I’ll have a glass later. I’m going back out on the slopes after dinner and I want to keep a clear head.” She squinted her eyes. “Night skiing always disorients me a little until I get used to it.”
    He handed the wine list back to the waiter. “What do you do, Katie Jarvis? When you’re not skiing, I mean?”
    “I teach. English.”
    “Chaucer and…?”
    “And all the way through F. Scott Fitzgerald. I do the whole gamut.”
    “I used to be pretty good in that subject. But that was years ago. What’s that poem—the one that sort of reminds me of this place?”
    “Has to be Robert Frost’s ‘Stopping by Woods—”
    “—On A Snowy Evening,’ ” he completed the title. “Yep, that’s it.”
    “It’s still one of the favorite poems I teach. The kids love it. They connect with it somehow.” She sipped her soup, watching as he broke off a piece of bread and buttered it. She was surprised at how relaxed she felt talking to him—usually she avoided the other skiers except for a ‘hello’ or a few words about the weather. Skiers were normally a friendly bunch but as for talking to them away from the trails or for having dinner with them—well, she never felt quite comfortable doing that.
    But if Irene could see her now! Irene always told her that she should make more friends, be more outgoing. “You’re friendly and you’re interesting, Katie. For Heaven’s sake, you’re not going to run off with them. A simple few sentences doesn’t make you a wanton lady, Katie.” Irene laughed at her own joke. “Live a little, Girl, live a little.”
    And Jason! What would Jason say? She looked again at Sam. Yes, what would Jason say? What would he say if she told him that she had had dinner with a rather attractive man? And that she enjoyed it? She dipped her spoon into the soup and laughed. Jason would probably ask her what she ate.
    “You’re thinking of something funny.” Sam tapped the table. “The food? Do you know something I don’t?”
    “No.” She shook her head. “I was just thinking what someone…” She laughed again. “Forget it, Sam. I was just going snow-crazy for a few minutes. First days away from the classroom do that to me.”
    He shrugged. “During vacation time you’re allowed to go a little crazy.”
    “I really am, aren’t I? Okay, you know that I’m a teacher, but I don’t know what you do.”
    He looked at her quickly. “Guess.”
    “Twenty questions? This could be fun.”
    “I’ll give you five. After that it gets boring.”
    “Doesn’t it? Okay, you’re the president of a bank?”
    “I was never good at loan applications. One down, four to go.” He moved the salt shaker to the side of the table, and she narrowed her eyes at him, trying to envision him in clothes other than the cream-colored sweater and gray slacks he was now wearing.
    “You’re an artist.”
    “No. I sketch a little in my spare time, but nothing serious. Three more.” He held up three fingers and then moved the pepper mill next to the salt shaker.
    “Computers. You work in computers?”
    He raised an eyebrow. “I’m impressed. Close. Partly. Go on—what do I do in computers?” His hand toyed with the bud vase.
    “I don’t know what to say.” She gritted her teeth. “You think up new programs?”
    He moved the flowers to the side. “Two more to go. But I’ll give you half-credit for computers.”
    She cocked her head to one side. “You sell them.”
    He returned everything to the middle of the table. “Okay, that’s close enough. Remind me I owe you a glass of wine.”
    “You