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opposite hallway. He peered out the door they’d entered and stared at her green Jeep, which was already half-covered with snow that stubbornly continued falling. He closed the door quickly, willing the cold to go away, and continued at his sandwich as he searched for her.
    A partially closed door had a sign on it that said: EMPLOYEES ONLY. Marc heard London talking beyond the door and paused, knowing he shouldn’t eavesdrop but taking a moment to listen before making his presence known. If it was a private conversation, he would give her privacy and move on to wait for her.
    “I haven’t made it home yet.c No, I didn’t get stuck.” London paced into view but didn’t look his way as she spoke to someone on her phone. “One of the guests got stuck in the snow. I picked him up and brought him back here.”
    London’s hair fell to her waist. She walked away from him, running her fingers through it. Marc watched in awe as it streamed down her back like raw silk. It glowed under the light and appeared not to have a tangle in it. What he wouldn’t do to run his fingers through it, learn its texture and how hard he could tug before she moaned with pleasure.
    “Marc King,” she said, pulling him out of his fantasy. “Yeah, I know.” Her laughter was melodic.
    Marc ached to know what the person had said on the other end of the line that London agreed with. He sensed they were talking about him and whatever it was made London laugh.
    “I can’t imagine what it would be.” London stopped walking, standing with her back to him. “Yeah, go ahead and take it. I really appreciate it. It’s a thick package?” London shook her head. “No. Trust me, I don’t have any family who would send me anything.” She laughed again, although the ring of happiness wasn’t in it this time. “Sounds good. I appreciate it, Meryl. See you tomorrow.”
    Marc took a few steps backward and walked up to the door, this time pushing it open. “There you are,” he said, and held up the plate. “Thank you for supper.”
    “You’re welcome.” She stared at her phone in her hand, looking distracted.
    “Something wrong?” Marc swore there was something haunted in her gaze when she looked up at him. It disappeared quickly. “You weren’t hiding from me, were you?” he asked, not wanting her to know he’d lingered outside the door and listened to her conversation.
    “No.” The pleasant smile she planted on her face looked like the one she had used when she stood behind the counter, professional and without emotion. “Not at all,” she assured him. “It’s justc” She paused; then making a face, she waved her hand in the air. “It’s nothing. My friend found a package at my door and I can’t imagine who would send me anything.”
    “Family maybe?”
    “No. It wouldn’t be from family.”
    She either didn’t have family or didn’t get along with them. Marc doubted she’d tell him if he pressed. He reminded himself he wasn’t after lasting friendship with London. If she offered anything about herself, great. If not, no worries.
    “I guess you have a surprise waiting for you then.”
    “Surprises are seldom pleasant,” she murmured.
    “True,” he admitted, watching her.
    She shifted her attention to his partially eaten sandwich, then edged past him. “Shall we find a place for you to sit and eat your sandwich?”
    There were more layers to London than Marc had initially guessed. They sat in an alcove on the third floor of the lodge. It was at the end of the hallway and to the side of the elevators, just out of sight. A love seat and coffee table were surrounded by windows, which made it a bit chilly. He imagined in the daytime there was probably one hell of a view. Right now though, the black glass was cold and lowered the temperature easily ten degrees colder than the hallway.
    “How long have you worked here?” Marc munched on half of the second sandwich while London nibbled on the other half. It was all the food