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wasn’t careful she was going to lose her advantage. In fact she might have already lost it. She wondered when the caffeine would kick in and stimulate her defense system. She was so relaxed she felt spineless. She watched him capture her white pawn and all she could do was snuggle deeper into her chair. He gave her a cocky grin and she smiled back.
    “Your casual attitude doesn’t fool me,” he warned. “Underneath it all there’s a killer instinct.” He stood. “When I come back in I’m going to show no more mercy.”
    She nodded and tried to focus on the board.
    Outside the snow was letting up but the winds were gusting up to eighty miles per hour and visibility was around fifty feet. With the new boots he was able to walk through snowdrifts without slipping while his feet stayed completely dry. Automatically he went through his routine but his mind was back in the building. What would she do next? Check his king? Capture his knight? Disturb his hard-won tranquility? She’d already done that. The cold air had a sobering effect on his daydreams.
    He knew he couldn’t have the job he wanted as a weatherman and a woman, too, so he’d chosen the job, or the job had chosen him. And his wife had chosen someone else. It was understandable. What surprised him was the way Miranda had walked into his life and filled a space he didn’t know was empty. He’d dealt with loneliness before, it was always there, waiting to gain a toehold, and he’d deal with it again. Tomorrow.
    He studied the sky. Tomorrow the fog would dissipate and she’d leave. But tonight there was no harm in sharing some food and wine and a game together, as long as they both knew that’s all it was. She certainly did. She could hardly wait to leave. He made some notations in his log and went back inside.
    Instead of making a brilliant move on the board, Miranda Morrison had fallen asleep in the deep armchair, her golden hair spread across the back of the chair like sunshine on a rainy day. He took his boots off and tiptoed across the room, his eyes never leaving her face. He took a wool blanket from the daybed and carefully draped it over her, tucking it around her feet. She stirred and he had an overwhelming desire to scoop her up into his arms. But he didn’t. He knew better. He let go of the blanket and went back to his chair, swiveling back and forth, watching her sleep and thinking thoughts he usually kept in his subconscious.
    The work he loved was on the front line, catching the weather where it started, just him and the elements. And that was the way he wanted it. Not for him an office downtown where they analyzed the data he sent. Down there you had people to talk to, regular hours but no excitement. No unexpected whiteouts or spectacular views of the white mountains with the moonlight on them. Up here you had to be more than a meteorologist. You had to be a welder, photographer and rescue worker. It was his kind of job and his kind of place. He didn’t know why he had to remind himself of this, but he did.
    When the fog disappeared at daybreak he woke her. She looked around as if she didn’t know where she was. “Mount Henry, 6,000 feet,” he reminded her. “You delivered a pair of boots.”
    She nodded and looked at the blanket he’d wrapped around her. Her gaze dropped to the chessboard on the table. “Who won?” she asked.
    “Let’s call it a draw.” He went to the window. “Come here.”
    She tossed the blanket to one side and padded over to join him. It was one of those unusual days when it was possible to see all the way to the ocean, where the rising sun was reflected in the silver of the Atlantic on the horizon. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “Do you see this every day?”
    He shook his head. “It’s rare.” Even rarer was sharing it with someone else. He was glad she liked it almost as much as he did.
    She turned and sat on the day bed to put on her boots. “I appreciate your arranging the weather so I