Baby It's Cold Outside by Addison Fox

her body. A name that matched a woman who fired his interest and drew his attention like a magnet.
    Setting a determined path, Walker made his way across the room.
     
    “You’re really writing an article?”
    Sloan had decided to take the bull by the horns and had inserted herself into Grier’s conversation with the mayor. It hadn’t taken her long to weave in a small mention of her profession and after that, she could have scripted the discussion, it moved so smoothly to her benefit. “Well, I still have to pitch it, but I think this is exactly what the editor is looking for.” Sloan watched the rapturous expression spread across Sophie Montgomery’s face and mentally tallied a point in the outsiders’ column. It might not be as hard to charm the town of Indigo as Grier had feared.
    “What do you mean ‘pitch it,’ dear?”
    “I’m a freelance journalist, Mrs. Montgomery. Although all writers have to pitch their stories, my process is a bit more complex.”
    “I’m sure it will sell, dear.” Sophie patted her arm. “People are awfully interested in what happens up here. I was this close”—the woman squeezed two fingers together, leaving minimal space between them—“to getting one of the morning programs to cover our competition. There’s interest. Mark my words.”
    Sloan certainly hoped so. With an ear to the conversations around her, she allowed the article to take shape in her mind. The people she’d met, even after only three hours, had defied her expectations and she was already excited to do the piece. “That’s what I’m planning on, Mrs. Montgomery.”
    Although the idea for the drink invitation had been pure impulse, Sloan had quickly realized the benefits of the plan.
    And it wasn’t a bribe, damn it.
    Not in the least.
    Clearly, she needed to get on the good side of the town if she had any intention of writing a story about them. And it was the perfect excuse to introduce both herself and Grier to everyone, helping to drum up some sympathy on the part of her friend.
    While she admired the town’s insistence in taking care of one of their own, Grier was one of theirs, too. Jonas Winston had seen to that when he decided to live here. Too bad if Kate had gotten here first. She might have home-court advantage, but Grier was entitled to a shot at the game.
    Pasting on a broad smile, Sloan turned her attention to the two women who had moved up next to Sophie to join in the conversation.
    The first woman extended a withered hand. Despite her age, the handshake was firm. Solid. And a clear indication that the women who chose to live in Alaska had a hearty bent to them. “I’m Mary O’Shaughnessy. It’s lovely to meet you.”
    “You as well.”
    Sloan was then introduced to the third member of their triumvirate, Julia Forsyth. “I met your daughter-in-law earlier when I checked in. I understand your grandson’s a hockey player.”
    “Yes, that’s my Roman.”
    “I did an article on the team a few years back. He was having quite the season.” Sloan elected not to mention that Roman Forsyth was one of the hockey world’s hottest commodities that season, sought after by women from New York to Los Angeles.
    “That was you.” Julia’s eyes lit up. “I thought I recognized your name. And thank you for bringing to light the disgusting habits of those rink bunnies. Goodness, you’d think young women would know how to be more subtle than all that.”
    Sloan nearly choked on her mouthful of wine. Did the woman honestly think the rink bunnies were the only ones to blame? While she’d never had a problem acknowledging the healthy appetites of red-blooded American males, what was with these women? Were they truly so besotted with the image of great-grandbabies that they couldn’t honestly assess the somewhat improper behavior of the men they loved so well?
    “So the three of you are behind the annual competition?”
    Three nodding heads and broad smiles greeted her inquiry.
    “When did