The scenery blurred and the world went into slow motion. Blue skies and snow covered trees turned upside down and right side up. Powdered snow flew around her. She tumbled and couldn't stop. After what seemed to be forever, finally, she landed flat on her back.
For a minute, Cara kept her eyes closed. She felt dizzy. Bile rose from her throat. Breathing hard through her mouth, she tried to calm herself. She didn't know where she had landed and was afraid to find out. Crap! What a hell of a tumble. She blinked and opened her eyes. Through her partly covered goggles, she stared at the sky. Cara didn't move. She waited for the pain to come. Nothing. She could move her feet. Her left foot was a bit sore, but not broken. Her lower back throbbed from landing hard on the snow, which later tonight would probably give her hell for being stupid. But other than that, she was whole and alive.
Thank god. Imagine celebrating Christmas with a broken heart and limb. Rochelle would probably laugh at her and Lucas would look at her with pity in his eyes. Her goggles fogged up as warm tears quickly blurred her eyes. She should just go home or somewhere. Just get away from here. Running away wasn't always a sign of cowardice, but of maturity or being smart. Why punish herself by sticking around the man she loved who obviously had no feelings for her? Why didn't she just accept her parents’ offer to go with them in Italy?
Sadness overwhelmed her. Suddenly she felt so tired and achy. Her cell phone rang, but she ignored it. All she wanted to do was lay there and watch the clouds go by, feel the soft breeze touch her cheeks and let the lowering afternoon sun bake her cold miserable self.
And so she did.
* * * *
Why did Cara have to go up again, alone? Lucas asked himself. She wasn't an expert skier. The woman was as graceful as an elephant in her own glass store. It amazed him how she could make and sell hand blown glass vases when she broke more than two every day.
When he saw his sister come into the restaurant without Cara, he wasn't surprised to hear Cara decided to go home alone than ride with them. Cara had been ignoring him, giving him cold shoulders since he had arrived. The way she'd been acting it was as if he did something to upset her. It was she who pissed him off.
The same day he had left for Florida, he had started looking forward to seeing her again and planned what they would do together. But three weeks after he'd been gone, he had heard she started going out with a man, which meant she wasn't as affected as he was by what had happened between them. And that seriously stung his ego, his freaking heart. Hadn't she understood when he had said wait for him?
He wondered if she had woken up and realized she had made a mistake giving her virginity to him. Was he a lousy lover? He didn't think so. Cara had fallen apart in his arms when she climaxed. He knew it. She had matched him thrust for thrust, moaned lustily while her walls throbbed around him. She had screamed his name before sighing in exhaustion with passion, burning in her eyes and a smile of satisfaction written all over her face. That night had been magical and Cara had been the beautiful fairy floating in the bliss of pleasure. So what happened? Had she not wanted to be a virgin anymore and he just happened to be available to take it? That was so fucking bad. Because he had fallen for her—hard.
He'd met Cara when he went to her shop to pick up Amy's purchases—three multicolored, handmade, state-of-the-art vases designed with intricate patterns. He had to stare at them trying to figure out how they were made. Their meeting had been destined, he believed. He had been on his way to his office in Portland when Amy had called and asked him a favor. If he stopped by Cara's shop in Seattle, she promised that she'd paint the famous Cannon Beach Rock for him as a Christmas present.
The moment he had walked in Cara's store and spotted her behind the counter, he was glad he let his sister bribe him. Cara was busy examining a glass, wearing an old apron over a green shirt that had hugged her lush breasts like a tight skin. She had pinned up her hair, but strands had already escaped and curled around her face. He had watched her torture her lips for a while, enjoying the way she angled her head from left to the right with her light brown eyebrows slanted in a frown as she examined the vase she held. As soon as she looked up and their eyes met, he knew infatuation had struck him. And when she smiled his body had responded quickly the way he would when touched by a woman. Right that moment, he had wanted to run his hands on her smooth hair, to taste her wet lips with his own, and search her secret curves.
Cara and Amy, both artists in their own way, had became fast friends and he had been a friend and brother they teased. His infatuation with Cara had quickly turned into an obsession. He had dreamed about her, had thought about her constantly, and had come up with all kinds of excuses so he could see her. Something about her ability to compose herself as an intelligent, professional, and confident woman when around other people and be as playful as a girl with him and Amy had fascinated him. Cara was not perfect by any means. She could hold her glass with gentleness, but break one because she was clumsy. Her imperfections though were what made her more enchanting.
After their initial meeting, he would stop by at her store to browse or buy the vases he had seen the previous days although he was running out of room in his condo. Or he would invite her to go out for lunch or dinner, which she never said no to.
Those times, when he had made her laugh, when they had shared ice cream and had fought for the last slice of brownie, embedded in his heart. He never reveled on memories of other girlfriends the way he did with Cara. The woman had warmed his blood like fire on a wintry night.
It was their first kiss that had sealed his heart, trapping his emotions, the need to have Cara not just a friend but as lover. His fantasy of having her happened a month ago. He had opened his heart and made love with her for the first time. The need to stay beside her, watch her sleep, feel her heart beat against him and hold her had been overwhelming. But he had to leave that morning. With his body, heart and soul screaming that he stay, he had told her that they would talk when he returned.
With the hard case he'd been working on as an undercover agent, one that had forced him to stop thinking about Cara, he hadn't had a chance to call her. With his job, he didn't have any time to reminisce, to dream of her. But he had seen her face when death had come close to him during one of the raids. Cara had given him the strength to stay alive. It was she who had made him fire his gun to save his own life. The month he hadn't seen her made him realize what he felt for her was akin to love.
And this woman he loved had been ignoring him, had dated a different man and had decided to ski alone. He loved his job and not once had he regretted becoming a DEA agent. But Cara had tapped his cement-strong dedication, questioned that maybe he should have said no to going to Florida and stayed with her instead. They would have been having fun right now. Instead he worried something bad happened to her.
Good thing Amy was quick to realize why he had to find Cara and agreed to give Rochelle a ride back to the cabin. He could follow Cara and drag her beautiful butt back where she should be. He didn't give a reindeer's crap whether Rochelle complained or not about him leaving her alone. He would follow Cara to hell and back if he had to.
Whistler Mountain, like any other mountain, had treacherous, challenging slopes. Even the easy ones were hard on beginners like Cara.
Lucas lowered his goggles and positioned himself for the descent. Devil's jump was one of the three difficult runs in Whistler. He looked down at the steep slope. Why would Cara take this run? Damn that woman! When he found her he'd wring her lovely neck and shut her up with a kiss.
He dialed Cara's cell the second time. After the third ring, his call transferred to an automated machine—again. Where the heck was she? Taking her time going down the slope or was she stuck somewhere? He hoped it was the first. It had been forty-five minutes since the lift stopped taking skiers up the mountain. The usher in an elf suit told him Cara went down minutes before he closed the lift, which meant she must be somewhere on the slope.
He hoped Steve t
he elf would follow his direction. Wait ten minutes. If Cara's face didn't show up, then call for help.
Devil's Jump. What the hell was she thinking? This was her first time skiing. Why try the hardest route? Lucas planted his poles and pushed hard.
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Chapter Two
* * * *
The cold snow penetrated her ski suit. If she didn't get up soon, she'd probably greet the New Year with pneumonia. She didn't want that. She was here to celebrate Christmas and to have fun, not get beaten down by jealousy.
It took a moment to gather her strength to get up. When she did, her foot and back screamed don't move. She ignored the pain. Pain was for ninnies and she wasn't one. She dropped a vase on her foot one time and didn't cry, although her toenail died instantly. A bully in her sixth grade class named Norma Jean punched her on the forehead because she refused to give up her role as Rudolph in the school's Christmas show. She didn't cry, but punched Norma in the gut, which ended her reign as the school bully. She'd been a fighter. Why stop now? If Lucas wanted to flaunt his girlfriend in front of her, she could do that, too. She'd call Rick to join her here. How about that?
She traced back the path to find her missing poles. She couldn't believe how far she'd tumbled. Luckily, she didn't land on the edge of the run where the soft part of the snow could bury her alive. How far was she from here to the bottom of the hill? What if I go back up? She looked at the lift. It had been shut off. The only way home was by skiing down Devil's Jump.
"I could walk down."
The air had turned colder and the horizon bright orange, painting the skyline with magnificent colors of yellow, purple, orange and gray. The mixture of colors gave the view a very somber look. She wondered if Lucas and Rochelle were looking at the setting sun, too.
Ah! Forget him. Despite the soreness in her lower back, she walked uphill carrying her skis. Her legs burned from too much exertion, but she forced herself to move. She wouldn't leave the slope until she found her poles. Lucas gave them to her. No, Lucas wasn't the reason why she wanted to find the poles, she told herself. Those poles were expensive.
Last summer, she, Amy and Lucas had come here, enjoyed the Alpine walks, rode All Terrain Vehicles, visited deep old growth coastal hemlock-cedar forests and active bear dens that had her gripping Lucas arm afraid a mama bear would pounce on them. It had been a hot summer. Whistler looked totally different then. Instead of skis, motorbikes and ATV's were everywhere. The whole village had been busy with tourists, mountain bikers, and locals. She remembered stopping at the ski shop and looking around. She had told Amy and Lucas that she didn't know how to ski and would love to try it. Lucas nodded, went inside the store and bought a pair of skis. On their way back to the cabin, he handed her the wrapped skis and had said “for you."
That night, while sitting on the floor and leaning against the couch, Lucas had laid his head on her lap and closed his eyes. He looked so relaxed with his ankles crossed and hands on his chest. Amy who had been sipping her cocoa complained that she was tired from their long walks and had to go to bed. She left her and Lucas in the candle lit living room
Cara had watched him. With his eyes closed, she was able to take her fill. He had looked so devilishly handsome with his long and layered dark brown hair, its tips curling and pointing in every direction. His nose had a slight bump on the bridge but nevertheless straight. She had known he possessed dark blue eyes with a darker rim on the outside. She'd looked at him more than enough to know that. And his lips...she would have given anything to kiss those wide full lips.
She had thought about touching him, but Lucas opened his eyes. For a moment, they had looked at each other before he lifted one hand to play with her shoulder length hair.
"You have beautiful hair. Straight and feels like silk."
"Pantene conditioner is my secret. Don't tell anyone."
Lucas had smiled, tickling her cheek and nose with the tips of her hair. “Glad you're here. Did you leave anyone in Oregon crying because you're spending a few weeks of summer with us?"
Cara had laughed softly. She played with his hair, combing it back with her fingers. “You know I don't have a boyfriend. If I do, I'll spend my waking hours with him and not here. And I wouldn't share lunch and dinner with you on a regular basis."
"You'd do that? Spend your waking hours with your boyfriend?"
"Of course. Wouldn't you?"
"Uhm, baby, I don't have a boyfriend."
"You know what I mean, silly. If you love someone, you'd want to have that someone within your reach."
"But wouldn't you tire of each other's company?"
"Not if I give my heart and soul to him. I would think. How about you? Left a trail of broken hearts?"
"Of course. A lot of them are crying right now so you're lucky to be here with me."
"Ha! I don't know if getting beat in card games and getting only half of a brownie because you and Amy gobbled it while it's still hot from the oven is considered lucky."
"You don't need brownies. Bad for you.” He had taken her hand, placed it on his chest and laced their fingers together. “Stick to the strawberries and green apples."
"You mean the apple peel and the green part of the strawberries. Last time I looked, the strainer was full of them.” She had shivered when Lucas laughed and bit the plump part of her palm.
"I'm sorry, babe. Are we starving you here? Don't worry we'll go shopping tomorrow."
"I'll hide the fruits in my room."
"I don't think that would be a good idea. I love fruits, Cara.” He had kissed her fingers before rolling on his side with his face buried on her belly.
The position had shocked Cara. She'd never been that intimate with a man before. She could not move. When Lucas had wrapped an arm around her lower back, she closed her eyes and hoped it would last.
It didn't. Lucas sat up quickly and had looked at her as if his eyes were kissing her. He had brushed his lips across her forehead. “You're a temptation. An angel on earth meant to torture men.” He cupped her chin and moved his mouth over hers.
The kiss had been gentle, sweet, and as light as autumn breeze. And yet it had sent heat spiraling down the pit of her stomach. He had tantalized her with persuasion to return his kisses. She may have been inexperienced in bed, but not in kissing. When his tongue had sought entry, she opened for him. His mouth was hot and turned demanding. Together their tongues danced and mated. Cara's blood pounded in her brain, pumped her heart, and had made her woozy. Many times, she had floated in her dream with Lucas kissing her. It was good, but not like this. This time, Lucas had taken her to the bed of heaven. When his hand had touched her shoulder, her heart beat wildly. It had been the only audible sound around her.
Lucas's hands had roamed around her body, seeking her breasts, caressing the mound and teasing her nipples. “Cara, Cara, if we don't stop now, I'll take you here on the floor. I don't care if Mom and Dad come down and see us. But I don't think you'll like that."
She had thought about telling him she didn't care. But what would that admission make her? “No, I won't like that."
"Look at me, Cara."
"Next time we do this, I won't stop."
A month ago, he had proved his word. Cara shook her head. She couldn't believe the things she'd done that night. Sitting on him and moving against his body wantonly. Now, look what happened. She'd been suffering emotionally since then.
Cara sighed with resignation. Who was she kidding? She wanted her poles because of Lucas. She was on the damn devil slope because of him. She was miserable because of him. God, she loved Lucas with all of her freezing heart.
The sound of Christmas music drifted in the air making her feel more pathetic than ever.
A black handle sticking out from the ice took her attention away from the pain in her chest. It was her pole. Where could the other one be?
She looked up the hill, hoping to spot the other one. That was when she saw a skier. So she wasn't alone
then. Good. Maybe the skier could join her. The skier kicked the powdered snow. Maybe not.
A pro, she thought. Judging the way he moved, the skier was a man. And whoever he was, he was in a mighty hurry. Powdered snow sprayed where his skis touched. When he took the jump and landed gracefully on his feet, Cara knew he didn't pick this run on a whim. His skill matched the Devil's level of difficulty. He was an expert skier. Unlike her. She should have stayed on the bunny hill.
Cara frowned. The closer the skier got, the faster her heart beat. Finally Cara's heart made a flip. Holy Santa. It was him. The very person that drove her to take the stupid slope.
Lucas.
But what the heck is he doing here?
As soon as he stopped in front of her, Lucas removed his goggles and threw them on the snow. He removed his skis in a matter of seconds and walked toward her as if he walked on pavement even when his boots disappeared beneath the snow. He stood in front of her, his eyes devoid of mischief, laughter or admiration. His jaw muscles twitched and he breathed through his clenched teeth. Cara had never seen him look at her that way. He looked so angry she would have taken a step back if her foot wasn't sore. And then she noticed something. Something that flickered in his eyes she couldn't discern.
"Are you okay?” he ground out the word between his teeth as he looked at her head down to her buried boots.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Cara, don't sass me. Why are you carrying your skis going back up hill?"
"Because I don't want to leave them."
"Leave them where you landed?"
Cara didn't answer. He didn't have to know exactly what happened. “I lost my poles. I found this one, but I'm still looking for the other one. Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be—the lifts been shut off. Can ski anytime you want?"
Wicked Night before Christmas Page 3