Trixie tossed restlessly, her mind and memory racing. When she first closed her eyes, the images were welcome. Memories of Jim flooded her senses as she recalled the intoxication of his attention, and the thrill of his touch. But against her will, she found other, more disturbing memories taking the place of the pleasant ones. Jim's face, bloodied by her fist, haunted her. The fact that Jim hadn't blamed her in the least only increased her guilt. As bad as the memory of his bloody nose was, she infinitely preferred it to dwelling on the event that had precipitated it. Each time she tried to focus on a happy memory, the cacophony of clamouring voices clawed at the edges, tainting the memories and turning them into something frightening.

Unable to still the unpleasant thoughts, she got out of bed, pushed her feet into Honey's slippers, and padded softly down the stairs. Halfway down, she spotted a faint glow in the second living area. She frowned and peered into the darkness, but couldn't see anything out of place. Although fairly certain of what she would find, Trixie was still relieved to discover the identity of the shadowy figure sitting on the couch.

“We really need to stop meeting like this,” she quipped.

Dan rolled his eyes and gestured for her to sit beside him so she could see the monitor of his laptop. “I thought you might find me,” he acknowledged, and studied her for a second. “Couldn't sleep?” he asked, knowing exactly why she wasn't in bed.

“Something like that.” Trixie's attention was focused on the monitor. “Have you found anything?”

“Not yet,” Dan admitted. “I just came down a few minutes ago, so... Oh! Here we go!” He focused on the information he had called up. “I started a search for all the cases listing Director Saunders.” His eyes flickered back to Trixie. “You're right. It's unusual that Saunders would be involved in so many of these operations involving Mordem.”

Trixie frowned. “What's even stranger is that half of these are cases that Bill wasn't involved with.”

“Then why...” Dan shook his head, unable to complete the sentence. “If Grayson hadn't called, I would think all of this,” he gestured to his laptop, “was nothing. But, now...”

“Nothing makes sense. What did Grayson mean when he talked about a cross to bear?” Trixie's right hand drifted to the gold cross around her neck and she worried it back and forth, unable to leave it alone.

“Let's try that angle again.” Within seconds, they were looking at the result of a new search.

“What are these?” Trixie asked, her hand on the cross still.

Dan shook his head. “They're certainly not case files. It's almost as if someone made several personnel files.”

“That's not out of the ordinary, is it? I mean, we have files on lots of people.”

“Not on American citizens, we don't.”

Trixie's eyes grew wide and she jockeyed for a closer position. “No way! Whoever made these files is in a whole lot of trouble. The CIA isn't allowed keep tabs on US citizens.”

Dan looked at her thoughtfully, and then closed one of the many open files. When he held the cursor over its name in the directory, he shook his head. “Whoever did this obviously didn't expect anyone to find it. He didn't bother to remove the option of listing the author.”

The name “Saunders” stared back at them.

“What is so important about these men?” Trixie wondered. “I see birth certificates, death certificates, a few marriage certificates...” Trixie mused. “Hello! Look at all those degrees!”

Dan nodded, reading the names of many of the world's most respected schools. “And not just undergraduate work, either. Most of these degrees are at the Masters and Ph.D. level.”

“So,” Trixie questioned, “Saunders was keeping tabs on university students?”

Dan shook his head. “Not university students. People with degrees in science.”

“Who wear crosses.”

Trixie's quiet voice caused Dan to look up sharply. “What?”

“Look at the list of their personal effects,” Trixie suggested. “When each of them died, they had in their possession a gold cross.” She stopped short, realizing what she had just said. “Dan. They're all dead.” She wiggled closer and drew the laptop closer so half of it rested on her legs. With trembling hands, she scrolled through the statistics on each person.

“Suicide. Death by misadventure. Death by causes unknown.” Dan read the list of causes of death, his voice bland. Without thinking, he put his free arm around Trixie and rubbed her upper arm.

Trixie shivered and clutched the cross. “What is this thing?” she demanded, her voice rising.

“I have no idea,” Dan admitted, then turned to catch the hand that pulled against the suddenly crushing weight of the chain. “It doesn't mean anything,” he said firmly, drawing her chin up so he could look her straight in the eye. “This,” he traced the line of the necklace, “is not a death sentence. We will figure it out.”

Trixie swallowed hard, stared into the dark, determined eyes, and refused to give in to the sudden wave of panic that made it difficult to breathe. With a resolute toss of golden curls, she turned back to the task at hand.

“Well, what do we do now?” she asked. “Should we put in a call to Grayson? Head back to Virginia?”

“I don't think so,” Dan said. “Grayson would have called us back on the twenty-fourth if he thought we should be at headquarters. Instead, he specifically told us to enjoy our holidays. And he didn't even hesitate when we asked him about an extra week of vacation. For some reason, he seems to want us to stay away.”

Ever optimistic, Trixie said, “We could do worse. At least we're not staking out another arms dealer.”

Relieved that Trixie seemed calmer, Dan leaned back against the soft couch and pulled her back with him, leaving his arm around her shoulders. She closed her eyes, relaxed, and tried to ignore the burning questions running through her ever-active mind.

“We should get some sleep,” Dan suggested, but she didn't move.

Pushing aside the worries foremost in her thoughts, Trixie kept her eyes closed as she pursued a new train of thought. “Do you ever find our jobs a little, well, strange?”

Dan opened one eye. “Trixie. We're spies.”

When she didn't respond, he questioned, “Are you thinking of something specific?”

“Not really.” Trixie sighed and shifted to a more comfortable position, resting her head on Dan's shoulder. “Do you think we've been tainted? I mean,” she pressed on before he could question her, “do you think we see things differently than others do? And I don't just mean that we can't enter an unfamiliar place without planning two different escape routes. Do we see people differently?”

At a complete loss, Dan admitted, “Trixie, I have no idea what you're asking. What's bothering you?” He had both eyes open, but Trixie's were still closed.

“Christmas day, when I saw Mr. Wheeler...”

“Yes?” Dan prompted, puzzled by her hesitation.

Trixie shook her head and opened her eyes. “Dan, I couldn't help thinking of him as a person we would have a file on, if he weren't an American. I could picture everything the file would say—business holdings, net worth, family, business associates, everything. And, Dan,” she began to blush, “if he were just a person in a file, I know exactly how I would deal with him. How I would dress, what I would talk about, and how much I would flirt.” Brutally honest, she said, “Dan, I would waltz in, flirt a little, stroke his ego, and waltz out again with whatever I wanted.”

Dan shook his head. “I don't think flirting would get you very far with Matthew Wheeler.”

Trixie nodded emphatically and sat up to face him. “That's what I'm saying! You and I know that Mr. Wheeler is totally committed to his family, and would never allow someone to manipulate him. But, the point is, if I didn't know him, if I were just seeing him on a piece of paper...”

“You would have no doubt that you could get whatever you needed.”

“What does that say about me, Dan? Surely there are other men out there who love their families as much as he does. Why have I never had a problem working them over? Do I just bring out the worst in them?”

Dan searched her wide blue eyes before responding. “I don't know, Trix. I do know that everyone has free will. A lot of those people chose to let themselves be distracted by you. And, if they didn't, you found other ways to get what you wanted.”

She nodded, but remained unconvinced.

“Face it, Trixie. Most of the people we deal with are scum. Some of them are rich scum, but they're still scum. They're facilitating and benefiting from illegal activity. I highly doubt any of them have the moral standards of Matthew Wheeler.”

Trixie considered his opinion. “Most of them were pretty slimy,” she agreed. Somewhat reassured, she sighed and lamented, “I suppose we should go to bed.” Instead of standing up, however, she leaned back against the back rest and Dan's chest. “Honey and Diana are sharing a bed. I think they're scared I'll beat them in my sleep.”

“And what are you scared of?” Dan asked.

“I'm scared I'll beat them in my sleep.” Trixie tried to grin, but failed. “Good grief, Dan. I gave Jim a bloody nose. A bloody nose, for Pete's sake! He handled it well, but you know it had to hurt like the dickens.” She paused before admitting, “I'm scared to go to sleep, Dan. I don't want to dream.”

Dan looked into her anguished eyes and wanted nothing more than to tell her he would stay with her and do whatever it took to keep the nightmares at bay. Instead, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “You're going to be fine,” he promised. “And, if you need anything, anything at all, knock on my door. I'm right beside you, just like the apartment.”

Trixie smiled, comforted by the reminder of her home. “Lead on, sensei.”

Trixie started up the dark staircase, praying that dreamless sleep would come easily. She rolled her eyes when Dan continued past his doorway, and walked the extra five feet to her door. “Walking me home, O Chivalrous Dan?”

“Yup.” He grinned, and stopped her before she could open the door. “I'm right next door,” he repeated. “I don't care how late it is. If you need me, let me know, grasshopper.”

Touched by his offer, and in need of human, physical contact, Trixie moved closer and slipped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest. “Thanks, Dan. I'm going to be fine.”

Dan rested his chin on her head and placed his own arms around her. “You are fine,” he agreed, his voice tender.

They were both surprised by the creaking of a door. A bleary-eyed Jim looked just as surprised to see Trixie in Dan's arms. With narrowed eyes, he asked, “What's going on here?”

Dan's arms dropped to his sides, and he turned to face Jim, his face carefully blank.

“We were just doing a little research.” Trixie smiled brightly. “We're both night owls, so...”

Jim nodded and looked from one to the other. “Find out anything helpful?” he asked.

Dan didn't need to think twice about his answer. “Nothing conclusive,” he stated firmly, closing the conversation before Trixie could dwell on the disheartening information they had uncovered. “I'll see you in the morning.” He caught Trixie's eyes before adding, “Sweet dreams,” which caused her to smile.

“Goodnight,” Trixie and Jim chorused. They stood in awkward silence after Dan's door shut with a click.

“How's your nose?” Trixie asked, when the silence became unbearable.

“What?” Jim stared blankly, blinking a few times. “Right. The nose. See? I completely forgot about it,” he said with a charming grin.

Even though she doubted the sincerity of his claim, Trixie couldn't resist smiling back into his friendly eyes. “Good,” she replied, faltering as she studied his nose. “Oh, Jim,” she sighed, and raised her hand to hesitantly graze it.

“I'm fine,” Jim murmured, and grasped her hand.

Trixie's breath caught. She stepped closer involuntarily as Jim rested his hand on her shoulder. But before he could act on the instantaneous urge created by being alone with Trixie in a dark space, they were interrupted by the creak of a second door.

Stumbling groggily, Mart groaned as Trixie and Jim moved away from each other. “Good grief. Am I going to have to give warning before I open doors from now on?”

Trixie's face flamed and she glared at her brother.

“I think a bell around his neck would do nicely, don't you, Trix?” Jim asked.

Her embarrassment forgotten, she pictured Mart as a pampered house cat with a collar and bell. Trixie giggled shortly and slipped between the men to open her door. “That would do nicely,” she agreed in a low voice. “See you in the morning,” she whispered, and closed the door behind her with a twinge of regret.

She was relieved to see that Honey and Diana slept soundly, although Diana seemed to have acquired the majority of the covers. Pleasantly drowsy, Trixie kicked off Honey's slippers and tumbled into bed, hoping to fall asleep easily.

When the Bob-Whites met for breakfast in the kitchen the following morning, Trixie wasn't surprised to see the extensive selection of food on the counters and table. She was, however, taken aback by the sight of her oldest brother rooting through the fridge.

“Where are the honey garlic chicken balls?” he called. “I know we didn't eat them all. And where did the left-over hot and sour soup go?”

“Oops.” Eyes rolled as Mart spoke. “I think Jim and I might have taken care of those last night.”

“You really ate more last night?” Honey asked.

“I couldn't go back to sleep after Dan came back in last night, so...”

“So you decided to put the left-overs out of their misery. I understand. But you, too, Jim?” Honey's ears pricked at the mention of Dan's late night, and she studied Trixie's face out of the corner of her eye even as she addressed her brother.

Jim shrugged and reached for the orange juice. “Friends don't let friends snack alone,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Well, at least they're not eating it for breakfast,” Diana pointed out. “Unlike Dan.”

Dan looked up and carefully swallowed a mouthful of stir-fried vegetables. “What? Vegetables are good for you!”

“Better add some protein to that dish,” Trixie advised as she spread peanut butter on a slice of toast. “I have a feeling you're going to need plenty of stamina today.” She grinned wickedly. “You know, for fighting off all the women who will be throwing themselves at you.”

Dan gave her a blank stare.

“Because of the stylish sweater you'll be modelling,” Trixie finished, and laughed as four people groaned in unison. “You didn't forget, did you?”

Mart laughed. “I'm sure they were hoping we did.”

“Not a chance!” Trixie's eyes danced as she surveyed the glum expressions of her friends. “Eat up,” she encouraged, promising, “I have the sweaters all ready to go.”

“I'm sure you do,” Jim muttered under his breath, then tried to charm her. “You really know your Star Wars trivia, and I know we lost the bet fair and square, but you're not really going to make us wear the sweaters, are you?” He looked to her with a hopeful smile. “I'm sure we'd all have a better time skiing in our normal clothes. Right, guys?”

Honey and Di nodded emphatically while Dan continued to concentrate on his breakfast.

Trixie shook her head. “Nice try. Come on! Let's get going!”

A short time later, the Bob Whites stood, staring at the four sweaters on the coffee table. Di shrugged philosophically and picked up the lavender sweater. “We may as well get this over with,” she sighed, and slipped the sweater over her head. After carefully freeing her hair from the collar, she did a quick spin. “Well? How do I look?” she questioned.

“You look darling, as always,” Honey assured her, nodding her approval at the overall effect Diana had created with the over-sized sweater and trim navy pants. A jaunty beret completed the ensemble, and added a touch of style. Encouraged by her friends' success, Honey donned the even larger yellow sweater and rolled the sleeves to free her hands.

Brian nudged his brother. “I'm developing a whole new appreciation for those sweaters,” he said out of the corner of his mouth, taking in the vision of his girlfriend in yellow and white.

“You and me both,” Mart muttered, trying not to be obvious as he admired Diana.

Dan snorted. “You'd better enjoy them. Those sweaters will never look the same again.”

“What? Why?” Brian questioned.

“Let's just say that by the end of the day, those sweaters will have taken on the more,” he coughed, “feminine curves of their wearers, if you know what I mean.” Dan waggled his eyebrows suggestively while Trixie elbowed him. The rest of the Bob-Whites looked confused.

“Just because a girl wears the sweater doesn't mean she'll leave boobie marks in it!” Trixie said in exasperation. “I keep telling you, it's all in your imagination.”

Five pairs of eyes grew wide. “Oh!” Mart exclaimed, and flushed.

After his initial surprise, Brian shrugged. “Well, it's not like I plan to wear it often.” He moved closer to Honey to whisper in her ear. “Besides, you're welcome to leave boobie marks in any of my clothes, any time.”

Jim sighed. “I'm going to try really hard to pretend I didn't hear that,” he said, exchanging a wry look with Brian. “Right now, I really just want to get this over with. How about it, Trix? Have you decided what Dan and I are wearing, or do we get to choose?”

Dan shook his head. “And I thought I was optimistic.”

“I've put a lot of serious thought into the matter,” Trixie dead-panned.

“No, you didn't! You told me this morning you had no idea who would wear which sweater,” Honey protested.

Trixie glared at her playfully. “Like I said, I've put a lot of serious thought into the matter. In fact, as we were getting ready this morning, I asked Di if she could do their colours.”

“That's right. She did,” Di confirmed with a brisk nod.

“Do their colours? What does that mean?” Mart asked.

“It's a method to figure out what colours a person looks good in,” Honey supplied helpfully.

“And you had heard of it?” Mart asked his sister in astonishment.

“Well, no, but I knew Di would be able to help.”

“I wasn't much help, though,” Diana disagreed. “I was working from memory, and, frankly, I don't think either Jim or Dan is suited for pastels.”

Trixie nodded. “I was back to square one. Step two was to visualize what you would look like in each sweater.” She grinned cheekily. “But, then I couldn't stop laughing.”

Jim and Dan glared at her. “Laugh it up, fuzz ball,” Dan threatened.

“Dan? No offence, but I'm pretty sure you and Jim are going to be the fuzz balls,” Mart pointed out.

Thoroughly enjoying Jim's and Dan's discomfort, Trixie assumed a speculative expression and moved to stand between them. With eyes twinkling, she tested each of their biceps and measured the breadth of their shoulders.

“This is step three, I take it?” Jim asked.

“Nope. I just felt like doing that. No,” she plunged forward even as Honey and Diana burst into laughter and the guys turned red. “No, I believe Dan himself made the decision with one of his earlier comments.” Without further ado, she retrieved both sweaters and returned to Dan's side. “Just for you, darling,” she said sweetly as she handed him the pink sweater, then stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear, “Boobie marks included, especially for you.”

A wry “Thanks,” was his only response as he gingerly accepted the sweater Trixie had worn the previous evening.

Trixie turned her attention to Jim, whose eyes were fixed on the sweater in her arms.

“Peach,” he stated.

“Peach,” Trixie agreed, offering it to him. After a moment's hesitation, he accepted it with heavy hands. Trixie grinned and slipped an arm around his shoulder. “Bobby would have wanted it this way,” she assured him.

Jim grimaced. “I'm sure he would.”

“Well?” Mart prompted. “Are we skiing today or not?”

Dan and Jim shared a moment of silent commiseration before donning the sweaters. Jim tugged his on easily. Because it had been made for a Belden male, Aunt Alicia had incorporated “plenty of room for growing boys”, as she put it.

Dan, however, was less fortunate. Struggling vainly, his mouth muffled by the wool, he protested, “Trix! I'm pretty sure it's going to rip. Are you sure--”

“Nice try, Dan.” Trixie interrupted her none-too-subtle perusal of Jim and eased the sweater over Dan's head, tugging carefully to avoid damage. Smoothing the buckled material that refused to lie flat on his ribs, she admitted, “It is a little snug.”

“A little snug?” Dan raised his arms to demonstrate the constricting capabilities of the sweater. “Good grief, Trix! Was she knitting for some sort of waif?”

Trixie sniffed. “No. She was knitting for me. And I didn't hear any comments about it last night.”

As uncomfortable as he was, Dan still smiled as he remembered the way she had looked the previous evening. The colour hadn't suited her, but everything else had. In an effort to help Trixie appear more feminine, Aunt Alicia had chosen a pattern to accentuate her curves, and had succeeded. “You do know this sweater will never look the same, right?” Dan gestured to the sleeves pulled tight over his muscles.

“I like my clothes roomy,” Trixie said with a careless shrug. “And, who knows? Maybe you'll like it so well I'll donate it to your wardrobe.”

Dan cringed. “Don't do me any favours.”

Jim nudged him. “Just be glad Aunt Alicia didn't decide to sew pants this year.”

“Now there's a sight I'd pay to see. Dan in Trixie's pants.” Realizing what she had said, Diana clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, wait. That didn't come out right.”

“No, it didn't,” Mart agreed, and steered the blushing beauty to the door.

“It's definitely time to hit the slopes,” Brian agreed, taking Honey's arm.

Pumped for a day of skiing, Trixie threw a smile over her shoulder as she followed her friends into the crisp morning. Dan and Jim eyed the door warily, loathe to leave the protection of the chalet.

Jim sighed. “I can't believe we're doing this. How did this happen, anyway?”

Dan snorted. “Trixie challenged us. Would it help if I told you she always wins?”

Jim stared at him in consternation. “And you agreed to this? Why didn't you warn us?”

With a shrug, Dan admitted, “I get a kick out of watching her. Even when she deliberately loses, she's something else.”

Jim eyed him suspiciously. “Why would she want to lose? Oh, you mean for work,” he said, when Dan was silent. “Still, I can't believe you let her suck us into this!”

“It's a weakness. Get over it.”

“Just tell me you didn't throw the game,” Jim insisted, as a new thought occurred to him.

“Throw the game? No. She would have known, and then it would have been much uglier.”

Jim stared at the skin tight pink sweater Dan wore. “Uglier how?”

“It's best not to think about it. We're just lucky she didn't start flirting. Believe me, it could have been much worse.”

Jim's stomach clenched. “Flirting? She does a lot of that?”

Dan backtracked quickly. “Only when it's necessary.” He paused. “Or when she feels like playing with someone's mind.” He started to smile. “Or when she's in a really good mood. Or--”

“Please stop,” Jim muttered.

Dan laughed.

“Oh, don't be such a stick in the mud. It's part of her charm.”

“Talking about me, are you?”

Both men whipped around to see Trixie in the doorway. Eyes dancing, she grasped each of them by the arm and forced them outside. “You can't hide forever, you know.”

“We can try,” Jim muttered.

“Come on! The others are waiting at the ski lift.”

Skis in tow, the three met their friends and joined the short line of skiers waiting. Dan resolutely ignored the curious glances of the people around him, but Jim's face flushed red as a middle-aged man stared. “Lost a bet,” he muttered, and stared at the man until he turned away. Brian and Mart watched with amusement, enjoying the embarrassment of their friends.

“It's not so bad, guys,” Diana said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Honey and I haven't had any problems yet, have we, Hon?”

“No, we haven't,” Honey agreed. “Everyone has been very polite to us.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Of course they're nice to you. You're girls. Pretty girls. In girl colours.” He gestured to his sweater and Dan's. “We're guys. Normal guys. In girl colours.”

Diana nodded sympathetically and moved to stand by Jim. She linked her arm through his and looked up at him, batting her eyelashes. “Would a little flirting help?”

Stealing a smug look at the Beldens, Jim nodded. “Yes. Yes, it would.”

Hiding her own smile, Honey moved to stand by Dan. “I could use a ski partner on the first run. Interested in helping a fellow fashion victim?”

Ever a gentleman, Dan gallantly offered her his arm even as he held her poles. “But, of course.”

Trixie, Brian, and Mart stared as the four boarded the ski lift, leaving them behind.

“Huh. Well, that didn't work out quite right, did it?” Mart reflected.

Brian narrowed his eyes as Honey laughed at something Dan said, and touched his arm. “Not exactly,” he agreed.

Squashing her own uncomfortable prickles of jealousy, Trixie shook her head. “That's a lot of sweater for one lift to carry. I just hope they make it to the top okay.”

Brian and Mart stared at her before chuckling. “I can see the headlines now,' Mart kidded. “'Four Injured in Misguided Attempt to Form Rainbow'.”

“Better them than us,” Trixie said.

“Hey!” someone behind them called. “Are you going to stand in line all day, or join your flashy friends?” The Beldens scrambled onto the waiting lift, glaring at the man who had stared at Jim. When they arrived at the top, they were relieved to see that their friends had waited for them.

“We weren't sure which run to pick, so we waited,” Di explained, watching Dan curiously as he moved a few steps away from her and began stretching his upper body.

“Dude! What are you doing?” Mart asked as Dan crossed one arm over his chest, straining the yarn so that the black t shirt he wore underneath it was clearly visible through the separating wool.

“I'm trying,” he switched arms, and nodded at a group of giggling girls who were checking him out, “I'm trying to give myself some room in this sweater. If I don't stretch it a little, I won't make it down in one piece. And I'm in the mood to tackle a black diamond run before the day is over. Sorry, Trix.”

She shrugged. “For what? If you wreck it, that just means I never have to wear it again. In fact, you'd be doing me a favour.” She cocked her head. “Hmm. Maybe we should start with the black diamond. Get the day off to a good start.” She looked expectantly at the others.

“No way! We'll have to work up to that,” Honey insisted. “I haven't forgotten a certain toboggan run.” She looked pointedly at Trixie. “'How hard can it be?', you said!”

Trixie had the grace to look abashed, at least until she caught the twinkle in Honey's eyes. “Okay. We'll start with an easier run,” she agreed, and pointed to a sign marker. “And there it is! Let's go!” She was off, with Jim close behind her.

Mart nudged Diana. “Looks like your partner has deserted you.”

Diana shrugged. “I'm not surprised. It's pretty obvious who he wants to spend time with.”

Mart watched Jim catch up to his sister, and noticed for the first time how attractive Trixie looked in her layers of white, powder blue, and navy. His eyes narrowed as they stopped to wait for the others, and Jim slipped an arm around her waist.

“Oh, poor baby,” Di teased. “Would a little flirting help?”

Mart met her gaze without a trace of a smile. “Not unless I'm the only one you're flirting with.”

Her cavalier attitude fell away, and she faltered uncertainly. Realizing he had let a little too much emotion show, Mart backtracked. “Right now, I'd settle for the pleasure of your company. You can save the flirting for later,” he suggested with a wink.

Di swallowed hard, but stayed by his side as they met the others. After agreeing to keep in sight of their partners, they were off, with Dan following Honey and Brian.

Three hours later, the Bob-Whites met at the bottom of the mountain. They had skied without resting, switching partners numerous times throughout the course of the morning. Tired, but happy, they contemplated breaking for lunch.

“I know I'm ready for a break,” Brian said. “We can ski all afternoon if we like, but let's have lunch now.”

Mart snorted. “You're just too embarrassed to be seen on skis again,” he said, gesturing to the spots of wetness on his brother's clothing.

Brian flinched. “It's been a while since I skied,” he admitted. “I, however, am not the one who managed to use my pole to accidentally pole-vault myself into a tree.”

“I didn't think you saw that,” Mart muttered.

“Um, Mart, I think everybody saw that. You flew ten feet!” Dan reminded him.

“Maybe we should just go eat,” Mart agreed quickly.

Laughing, the group entered the dining area of the main lodge. There was a large open area filled with attractive oak tables and chairs. A stone fireplace in the centre of the room provided the focal point. The Bob-Whites waited patiently while the waiters pushed tables together so they could crowd into the back corner seating. It didn't take them long to choose from the simple menu, and they were soon enjoying the delicious food. By the time they were halfway through their meal, though, even the non-sweatered Bob Whites had noticed a disturbing trend. Even when they weren't drawing attention to themselves with excessive laughter or loud conversations, people all over the restaurant stared curiously. Some stared openly, and others were more subtle, but at any given time, at least three people were focusing their attention on them. It wasn't long before Jim had had enough.

“I'm going to the bar,” he announced. “Would anybody like anything?” His friends looked up in surprise. All but Dan shook their heads.

“Want some company?” Dan didn't wait for a reply, but joined Jim in striding purposefully across the room. At the bar, they waited while the bartender chatted with another customer. His patience wearing thin, Jim cleared his throat. The bartender looked up, and Jim sighed, expecting the usual amusement at his expense. Instead, the bartender's gaze slid right off Jim, and focused on Dan. And the spectacularly snug pink sweater. The three men stood in a strange silence while the bartender made a slow, deliberate appraisal of the man in pink.

“What will it be?” he asked, never breaking eye contact.

“Two beers,” Dan answered, narrowing his eyes.

Placing the beers on the bar, the bartender leaned in, only inches from Dan's face. “There you go, handsome.”

Dan closed his eyes and fervently wished he hadn't talked Trixie into watching the Star Wars movies so many times. His eyes flew open when Jim casually slung his arm around his shoulders.

“I got this, Danny,” Jim winked and laid some bills beside the drinks.

The bartender shrugged and gave Dan one last, wishful look. “Can't blame a guy for trying.”

Picking up the bottles, Jim and Dan started back across the crowded restaurant, both slightly in shock.

“Did you just...” Dan asked.

“I think I did,” Jim replied, as if uncertain of what had just transpired.

They stared long and hard at each other, then began to chuckle, softly at first, but growing louder as they considered the absurdity of the situation.

“If you say one word about defending my honour, I swear I will beat the crap out of you,” Dan threatened, even as his eyes teared from laughing so hard.

“Oh, no. We have to promise never to tell anyone about this...” Jim coughed, “incident.”

Dan nodded briskly, and they shook hands. As they walked back to the table, Jim continued to shake his head. “I am so going to fire Bobby Belden for packing his sweater in Trixie's bag.”

Dan snorted. “Fire him? I know someone who can put a flag on his driver's licence. Pull him over at embarrassing times. Gotta hit him where it hurts,” he reminded Jim.

Jim nodded. “I like the way you think, Mangan.”

They were almost to the table when Dan said, “Well, thanks for defending my honour.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “I'd say, 'any time', but I sincerely hope I never have to do that again.”

Dan smiled. “Oh, and Jim?”

The red-head turned to him expectantly.

“Call me Danny again, and I'll have to hurt you.”

“Fair enough,” Jim agreed, still laughing.

They approached the table with relatively straight faces and took their seats. Glancing around the room, Dan saw something that caused him to forget about the flirtatious bartender. He set down his drink and made a show of checking his watch. “Does anyone have the time? My watch is saying Friday, two o'clock, and I know that's not right.”

As Honey responded, “That's actually pretty close, Dan. I mean, it's not Friday, but it is almost one thirty.”

Trixie cautiously looked in the direction of two o'clock. A slight flicker in her eye was the only sign that she had noticed anything, but it was enough for Dan. Knowing that his newly re-forged friendship with Jim was about to suffer a serious set-back, Dan addressed the group.

“I don't know about the rest of you, but I've had enough skiing for one day. At least enough skiing in this sweater,” he admitted. “I was thinking I'd head back to the chalet for a bit. I can take stock of the groceries and start supper while the rest of you ski for a few more hours.”

“But, Dan! We haven't done the black diamond yet!” Honey protested.

Dan shrugged, and risked a look at Jim. “Believe me, I've had enough excitement for one day,” he assured her.

“If you're making what I think you're making, you're going to need help,” Trixie interjected. “I'll come with you. You know you never remember how much spice to put in.”

And before the others could protest further, Trixie and Dan left the restaurant. Outside, they walked for a minute before speaking.

“Do you think he saw us?” Trixie asked in a low voice.

“I have no idea. Though, somehow, I think he would have approached us if he had.”

Trixie shuddered. “Approached me, you mean.”

Dan took her hand and hurried her along the street. “Let's just get back to the chalet so we can do some digging.”

Trixie nodded, and they walked as quickly as they could without attracting attention, each of them sickened by the thought of what their discovery could mean.