Given that her rescuer was indeed an actual, bona fide rescuer, Roxanne had assumed that Mark would have had an official park vehicle waiting somewhere just out of sight, or some other vehicle of salvation. A snowmobile, or even a sleigh. Unfortunately, she discovered, this was not the case.

“So, do you, like, have a patrol truck or something,” she asked, craning her head around him as if one might magically appear behind him in the darkness beyond the blinking taillights of her useless car. Thankfully she had great insurance, although having the car towed to any shop certified to work on her BMW was going to be great fun—and most likely completely impossible—in a place like this. That was a problem for another day, though. Currently Roxanne was much more focused on getting out of this snowstorm. It was coming down in a solid sheet of white now, and she had to use her own arm like a makeshift windshield wiper.

“No ma’am,” Mark replied apologetically with a sheepish sort of smile. Snowflakes decorated his eyebrows, and the bits of beard that peeked out above his gaiter sparkled like glitter in the dark. “I was out for a hike when I came across you here. Wasn’t really expecting to find anyone out in these conditions.”

The ranger’s excuse for being out in this weather sounded even crazier than Roxanne’s holiday bound blizzard commute. “A hike?” she echoed incredulously, then gestured around as much as she could with stiff, frozen arms. “You mean you were willingly out walking around in this?”

He smiled, and the sight of it was almost warm enough to make Roxanne sweat despite the cold. “Some of us like the snow,” he said, “besides, my place is just up there”—he pointed in a direction that meant nothing to Roxanne—“less than a quarter of a mile. If I hadn’t stumbled across you, I would have been home before it got too bad out. Doesn’t matter now. I know the path like the back of my hand. We can make it easily, then take Snowcat back down to get your things and have you up to your family’s cabin in an hour, maybe two if visibility gets any worse. Landlines are probably down, but we can use the radio to let your folks know you’re all right. I’m sure Robert has it on.”

Roxanne wasn’t sure what a Snowcat was, but she was familiar with the cabin’s radio. It was basically a piece of furniture. She remembered playing on it with her grandfather when she was a girl. Her father was a fan of broadcast; he’d definitely have the radio on, especially if it was the only source of incoming news. She nodded in agreement and didn’t ask what the Snowcat might be, figuring she’d figure it out when she saw it.

The snow was coming down even heavier now, if such a thing was possible, and even though it was nighttime the moonlight reflecting off the snow was so bright it was almost blinding. Roxanne had heard of, but never seen, white out conditions, but assumed this was it. Mark stepped in closer to her, otherwise the snow was so dense he might have been eclipsed from her view from only a few feet away.

“How are we going to get to the cabin? I can barely even see anything out here.” Roxanne had to raise her voice to make sure it was heard above a sudden gust of icy wind. She hugged her arms around herself, making her hands into fists and rubbing them furiously on her arms for friction. The fleece-lined jacket was useless in this kind of cold, and the frosty wind bit at her through the fabric, nipping and stinging her arms despite her best efforts to cultivate some body heat. The Burberry beanie was, likewise, inefficient as the frozen air slid easily through the knitting, and she had nothing on her hands—or pockets to stuff them in. She could feel the hair under the cap becoming wet and rigid with cold, and her fingers ached. Roxanne felt like the little girl, Karen, in Frosty the Snowman, at the moment she nearly froze to death on her quest to return the snowman home to the North Pole. Santa himself had saved them both, and she hoped Mark the Ranger, in his thick winter wear, would be equally as capable. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this cold in my life.”

Mark had returned the neck gaiter up over his mouth, but Roxanne could still see the way he was looking at her—like she’d just said something very silly but he was too polite to remark on it. “Is that the warmest coat you have?” he asked as his eyebrows knit together in concern. She shivered and he followed up with, “What other gear to you have? We need to get you warmed up before the cold gets in your bones.”

“I have another coat in the trunk,” she said, and the ranger motioned immediately to the car as Roxanne hit the little button on the door of the BMW that would pop it open. As Mark rummaged in the trunk, Roxanne slid into the driver’s seat and killed the engine, then grabbed her purse and stepped out of the car, shutting the door behind her. She hit the automatic lock button on her key fob and tucked it into her purse, just as Mark was lifting her winter coat out of the trunk.

“Is this it?” he asked, but there was implication in his question. He was holding up her green winter parka by its removable faux fur hood, and he didn’t seem impressed.

“Yes,” she confirmed, reaching for it. Mark gave the parka a considering look, then tossed it back into the trunk without handing it over. He lifted out her suitcase and shut the lid—leaving the coat locked in the car.

“You forgot to give me the coat,” Roxanne snapped, angling her stiff frozen fingers back into her purse to fish out her fob and pop the trunk.

“That coat is as useless as the one you’re wearing,” he said simply.

“What are you talking about?” Roxanne snapped. “It’s Eddie Bauer, from his Yukon Classic collection. It was a best-selling style for over thirty years.” She recited the line the clerk at the department store had given her when she’d bought it as a last minute decision, more impressed by the slim fit and tapered waistline than its winter qualifications. It wasn’t fashionable enough to be her first choice, or her third, but then again she hadn’t expected to spend more time in the snow than the walk from her car to the cabin so it hadn’t really mattered.

“Well, that may be so,” he shrugged. “But it still won’t do much for you in this kind of cold. You’ll be warmer in the fleece.”

Mark moved toward her, his boots crunching in the snow as he walked. Roxanne was still hunting for her keys, cursing the ranger under her breath, but her hands were so cold that her fingers didn’t seem to be working correctly and she could barely feel the items in her purse. So what if the coat wasn’t up to his standards; she was freezing and anything had to be better than the Sherpa-lined disappointment she was wearing. The cold was making her grumpy. Her head was also pounding, and the snowflakes were all beginning to blur together into one wispy white smear. She was having a hard time keeping track of how close Mark was to her—he seemed close, then farther away, then closer than before. The sound of bells was in her ears again, and she felt like she was about to faint. The bright moonlight on the snow was fading to grey and she didn’t even feel that cold anymore, but her body was still shivering anyway.

Before Roxanne realized it was happening, she was falling, but no sooner had she discovered this than she was also aware that Mark’s arms were around her, holding her upright and against the hardness of his chest. He was warm, and simultaneously hard and soft, the firmness of his body solid beneath the puffy thickness of his coat. Roxanne stared upward into his brilliant green eyes, and felt the earth move beneath her feet. He looked down at her and said something reassuring about getting her in from the cold, and then Roxanne closed her eyes and let her body go limp in the ranger’s arms.