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him to start up his plow. Soon the world would move again. But for now it was still and silent. Irresistible.
    A few feet of snow was one of the only things that kept her from her morning run on the beach. She tossed her gym bag over her shoulder, took one last whiff of whatever it was her sister-in-law was baking, and slipped out of the house.
    For now, for the length of her walk to the hotel and its health club, the island belonged only to her.
    Smoke pumped from chimneys. Lights gleamed behind kitchen windows. Oatmeal was being stirred, she imagined, bacon was sizzling. And inside those warm, snug houses, children were doing a dance of joy. No school.Today was for snow battles and snow forts, for sledding and mugs of hot chocolate at the kitchen table.
    Her life had been just that simple once.
    She trudged toward the village, leaving a trough in the snow. The sky was a soft, waiting white, as if it was considering shaking out a few more inches just for good measure. Either way, she thought, she would take her hour at the gym, then head back home to help Zack shovel out the cruiser and Nell’s car.
    As she crossed into the village, she looked down and frowned. The snow wasn’t pristine here, as she’d expected, as she’d wanted it to be. Someone else had been out and about early, too, and had left a narrow path.
    It irritated her. It was a tradition, almost a ritual, that she be the first to break the field of snow on this part of the island. Now someone had spoiled her routine and pricked her contentment bubble.
    She kicked at the snow and kept walking.
    The path led, as hers did, toward the Gothic stone hotel, the Magick Inn.
    Some mainlander, she decided, who’d come out of his hotel room early to see a genuine New England village in the snow. Hard to blame him, she admitted, but he might have waited another hour. She stomped up the short flight of steps, bumped the bulk of the snow off her boots, and went inside.
    She waved to the desk clerk, hitching up her gym bag, and jogged up the lobby steps to the second floor. She had a long-standing pay-as-you-go deal with the hotel for health club privileges. She preferred working out on her own, and during the summer she used the sea as her pool, so an official membership wasn’t worth her while.
    Turning left, she headed straight into the women’s locker room. As far as she could remember, only a handfulof guests were in residence this week. More than likely she would have the gym and the pool to herself.
    After dumping her outerwear in the locker that the hotel kept for her, she stripped down to her black sports bra and bike pants, tugged on her socks and cross-trainers.
    Her mood was up again at the prospect of a good sweaty bout with the resistance machines and free weights. Since she despised the treadmill she would save the aerobic portion of her workout for the hotel pool.
    She circled around the locker room for the door leading to the gym. She heard the clang of metal on metal before she saw anyone. Her mood wavered again. The TV was on, tuned to one of the early-morning shows full of chatter and cheer.
    She preferred blasting music when she worked out.
    But her glance toward the bench press turned her scowl into interesting speculation. She couldn’t see much of him, but what she could see was superior.
    Long legs, toned and muscled and already sheened with sweat. Long arms, sleek biceps rippling on the lift and set. She approved of his shoes, a good brand, basic style and far from new.
    He was bench-pressing 120 in smooth, steady reps. Better and better.
    This wasn’t a weekend warrior but a regular. And if the rest of him lived up to his limbs, he was hot.
    If she was going to have to share the equipment with someone, he might as well be hot, buff, and sweaty.
    Just the way I like ’em, she thought with delight. She was missing men—at least missing sex. She would just check out Mr. Fitness here and see if he lived up to the advertising.
    She snagged a