Under His Spell (Holiday Hearts #4)

by Kristin Hardy

  “So maybe I come home more often. There are races over here. Shoot, you could even come to Europe. You’d like it.”

  “So, what, I can be this year’s girl?” This time she did move away, reaching for her robe.

  Something in his expression hardened. “You are never going to cut me any slack, are you?”

  “It’s not a question of slack. It’s a question of dealing with what is.”

  He rose and yanked on his jeans. “Maybe ‘what is’ has changed. You ever thought about that?”

  “J.J., for fifteen years, more than fifteen years, you’ve lived your life a certain way. You don’t change that overnight, even if you want to. I don’t see why you’re getting upset that I want to play it low key. Can you honestly say that you’re doing any of this for the long haul? Salem? Human Habitat? Us?” she challenged him.

  “How am I supposed to know?” he burst out in frustration. “It’s only been a week or two. What’s wrong with just seeing what happens? Dammit, Lainie, I care about this. I care about you.”

  “And I care about you,” she snapped back.

  “Isn’t that enough for now? Look, just come over for some of the races. You’ve always wanted to see Europe. Take a month off, a year. We can hit all the places you’ve wanted to go.”

  For a moment she could see it, wandering through Vienna, Salzburg, hand in hand. “I don’t have that kind of money,” she reminded herself as much as him.

  “So what? I do.”

  “I can’t let you keep me,” she said, shocked despite herself.

  “Why not? You let me take you out to dinner. You’d let me take you away for the weekend.”

  “Supporting me is something different.” And the idea of throwing everything away, to depend utterly on J.J. and what the next day held was terrifying. “J.J., I’ve got a life here, a career. I can’t throw that away on ‘let’s see what happens’ with you. I’ve seen what happens.”

  “Dammit, why won’t you believe in me?” he demanded.

  “J.J., I’ve had a lifetime of watching you,” she returned. “It’s easy to be someone else here. It’s a different place. Over there who knows what will happen?”

  He blinked, studying her for a moment. “You’re afraid,” he said slowly. “That’s what this is all about. You’re scared to take a chance.”

  She opened her mouth to deny it and stopped. “I’m just trying to get by,” she said instead. “I’m trying to be smart. Like you said, it’s only been a week or two.” She walked over to put her arms around his neck, resting her forehead against his. “Look, I don’t even know what we’re arguing about. It’s good right now, J.J., really good. All I’m saying is let’s not pretend it’s more than it is. It’s just…right now.” She raised her head to look at him. “Fair?”

  He didn’t look happy about it, but finally he nodded. “Fair. Then you’ll at least think about coming to Europe?”

  She sighed. “Let’s wait until Halloween’s out of the way. After that we’ll see.”

  In the end, they arrived at the nearly empty parking lot well before the eventual tide of friends and family. When they walked in together, only hotel employees were around to notice, Lainie saw with a little tingle of relief.

  The venerable old hotel looked more beautiful than ever, with its soaring ceilings, gold-leafed pillars and broad swaths of windows. Outside, the mountains rose all around. Inside was luxury, fantasy, a reminder of a gentler time.

  “What a place to get married,” Lainie murmured.

  “I bet they got a great deal on the rental.”

  For a few minutes they just wandered, strolling through the lobby, climbing the sweeping grand staircase to admire the view from the top, tiptoeing into the dining room with its salmon-colored walls and ornate chandeliers. Finally they stepped outside to stroll down the broad veranda that ran along the east wing of the hotel for what seemed like a mile before making the turn around the end and sweeping along the back side. Hanging baskets spilled over with the last of the year’s crimson and purple petunias. White wooden chaise lounges that would have looked appropriate on the deck of the Queen Mary back in the early 1900s lined the inner side.

  It was so open and deserted, out in the midday air, that she didn’t protest when J.J. took her hand and kissed it.

  “It’s all so gorgeous,” Lainie murmured, looking out over the woods with their bridle trails. A stream wound between the forest and the almost unnatural green of the golf course, spanned periodically by curving white footbridges. In the background, over it all rose Mount Jefferson.

  They followed the veranda as it curved around the glassed-in semicircle of the conservatory. Inside lay a fantasy of flowers and greenery and white wicker, of Grecian pillars draped with plaster garlands. At the front of the room stood a temporary arch wound with flowers.

  And before it, Gabe.

  Lainie pulled her hand hastily from J.J.’s.

  “I guess we’ve found the wedding,” J.J. said and opened the door that led inside.

  Gabe looked as if he’d been born wearing a tux. With his dark, polished good looks, he could have made a successful career as a model. With his air of command, though, Lainie could never have imagined him in such a passive job. He needed to be running empires—or a resort the size of a small city, like this one.

  As they approached, he gave J.J. a narrow-eyed look. “You two are here early.”

  “We thought you might need help.” Hastily Lainie took her garment bag from J.J. “I mean, I did. Who knows what Speed, here, thought.”

  “People seldom do,” Gabe said, with an edge to his voice.

  “Where’s Hadley?” Lainie asked.

  “Upstairs in the Presidential Suite with her mother and sisters. Fifth floor. They said for you to come on up when you got here.”

  “I should go, then.” She’d half turned toward J.J. for a kiss before she caught herself. When she turned back to the lobby, she found Gabe’s eyes on her. “Well.” She cleared her throat. “I’m off. See you both later.”

  “Am I going to have to kick your butt?”

  Gabe and J.J. stood out on the veranda outside the conservatory, leaning on the rail, watching the smoke from the cog railway train as it made its way up the mountain.

  “One, you couldn’t,” J.J. said. “Two, you’d mess up your tux. Three, what for?”

  “Lainie.”

  J.J. looked at him. “I don’t think so.”

  “And that’s because you’re not going to treat her like one of your groupies, right?”

  J.J. stifled the little surge of irritation. “Look, despite what everyone seems to think around here, I am not in the habit of lying to people or pretending to be one thing when I’m something else. I’m an adult. Lainie’s an adult. Together, we’re going to act like adults, which—believe it or not—I’m perfectly capable of doing.”

  Gabe raised his eyebrows. “Well, certainly that would be a welcome change of pace. Because if you do end up dumping Lainie for Miss Lillehammer 2003, there’s going to be a whole line of people back in Vermont looking for a piece of your worthless hide. Starting with me.” The smile left Gabe’s face. “You’d better take this one seriously.”

  “I do,” J.J. blurted before he even knew he was going to say it. Interesting. Where, exactly, that had come from, he hadn’t a clue. Even more interesting, the more he thought about it, the more it felt right. “I’m not just doing this to keep busy. I care about her.”

  More than cared, he realized suddenly. A lot more. Shock rolled over him.

  Gabe gave him a sharp stare and then he began shaking his head, a reluctant grin spreading over his face. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  “What?”

  “Mr. Saturday Night finally got caught.”

  “I’m not caught. I’m…I don’t know what I am,” J.J. muttered bad temperedly.

  “Neither does anyone else, which is why we’re all worried.” They stared out at the grounds for a while, watching a couple play
tennis on the clay courts.

  “Look, you’re right, you’re both adults,” Gabe said finally. “But she’s like a kid sister to me. I just don’t want to see her hurt.”

  J.J. sighed. “I know. Look, I don’t know what’s going to happen—that’s up to her as much as it is to me—but I guarantee, I’m going to do my damnedest to take care of her.”

  “Gee, mister, you’re such an inspiration.”

  “That’s why I’m your best man.” J.J. looked at him and hefted his garment bag. “Which, I guess means it’s time to get into this monkey suit and marry you off.”

  “I can’t believe I’m this nervous.” Looking distinctly queasy, Hadley Stone pressed a hand to her stomach. She was ravishing in an utterly simple, beautifully cut white silk sheath that probably cost the Earth, her pale hair adorned with flowers.

  Lainie frowned in concern. Across the room, Hadley’s frighteningly thin mother twittered about the hairdresser and makeup artist who were working on Hadley’s twin sisters, whom Lainie had entirely given up keeping straight. They looked so much like Hadley, the same wheat-colored hair, the same fragile-looking bone structure they’d all inherited from their mother. But there the similarities ended. They were spoiled, self-absorbed and unerringly skillful at sucking up all of their mother’s attention.

  And on this day of all days, the focus should have been on Hadley.

  “You could try some ginger ale,” Lainie suggested. “That’s what my mom always gave me when I was sick.”

  “Ginger ale sounds good.”

  “No ginger ale,” Irene Stone called from across the room. “If you spill it, you’ll stain your gown. Club soda only.”

  “Motherrrr, this hairstyle makes me look twelve,” one of the twins whined.

  Lainie glanced questioningly at Hadley. “Club soda?”

  Looking distracted, she nodded.

  Lainie crossed to the minibar and got the sparkling water and a glass for Hadley, who sank down on the dressing chair.

  “Hadley, you stand up or you’ll wrinkle that gown,” Irene ordered.

  Hadley stood. Her hands, Lainie saw, were trembling.

  “If it helps at all, Nick’s wife, Sloane, was a nervous wreck before their wedding,” Lainie said casually.

  “Really?”

  “Big-time. She couldn’t stop crying. Every time we got her makeup on, we had to start all over.”

  Hadley frowned. “Second thoughts?”

  “Not even. She was just, I don’t know, overwhelmed that it was really happening, I guess.”

  “But she’s so strong. She looked completely together at the ceremony.”

  “Yep.” Lainie waggled her eyebrows. “Amazing what a shot or two of good Kentucky bourbon will do.”

  Hadley stared at her. “You’re kidding.”

  “Do I look like I’m kidding?” Lainie winked and showed her the bottle of vodka she’d palmed from the minibar. “Sometimes a woman’s got to do what’s necessary. It won’t stain your clothes, either,” she added in a whisper as she poured it into the glass.

  Hadley grinned and sat down.

  “Hadley Stone,” Irene began.

  “Mother, it’s my wedding day and I’ll sit if I want,” Hadley interrupted calmly and took the glass from Lainie and raised it. “Here’s to good times,” she said and drank.

  “What a handsome group of boys you all are.” Molly Trask stood back, camera in hand, and beamed.

  “Ma, please.”

  “Hush, Jacob. I see the three of you together little enough, especially dressed up. And J.J., too. Now stand together and smile. Ready?” She started to take the shot and then stopped, blinking a little. “Oh, you all look so grown-up.”

  “We are grown-up,” Jacob growled, yanking at his collar. “Will you take the picture so that I can get out of this damned jacket?”

  “Now you’ve gotten your tie all messed up. Celie, can you do anything about him?” Molly asked over her shoulder.

  A sloe-eyed beauty with a dark, Louise Brooks bob stepped forward to straighten his tie. “Listen to your mother, Jacob,” she advised. “I’m betting she can take you down in two, if you’re not careful.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the lips.

  J.J. grinned. He’d never figured on Jacob Trask for getting married, let alone to a little pixie who came up to his chin. Of course, this particular pixie looked as if she could take him in two also. Although, judging by the totally enamored look Jacob gave her as she walked away, she probably wouldn’t ever have to.

  And then he realized that Jacob was looking back at him from a distance of approximately five inches. Or not looking, precisely. Glowering. “What are you grinning at?”

  J.J. smiled even wider. “It doesn’t work anymore, Jacob. Once you lost the beard, you stopped being scary.”

  “Yeah,” said Jacob’s brother Nick from the other side. “Now you’re just another pretty boy. It’s about as frightening as being glared at by Justin Timberlake or something.”

  “It’s been a while since I pounded you, hasn’t it?” Jacob said pleasantly.

  “Jacob, behave yourself,” Molly scolded. “Nicholas, stop teasing your brother. Honestly, the three of you act like you’re ten sometimes.”

  “What’d I do?” Gabe protested. “I’m just an innocent bystander.”

  “You were biding your time,” she said severely.

  “At least this evening,” Nick whispered in Gabe’s ear, then smiled for the photo.

  It was magical, as weddings should be, all lily of the valley and white lace, perfume of flowers and liquid sound of the harp. Overhead, trompe l’oeil vines encircled the parabolic cutout in the conservatory ceiling. Underfoot, the carpet was spring green. A little buzz went through the room as the twins and Lainie started up the aisle in their gauzy tea-length dresses.

  Gabe stood up at the front by the arch of flowers, looking nervous, just as a bridegroom should. Next to him was J.J., relaxed and easy. Of course, J.J. would be relaxed in front of a firing squad, Lainie thought. She’d never seen him any other way than easy, even before the one race she’d seen him in, a qualifier for the Junior Olympics. Smiling, he leaned over to Gabe and muttered something too low to catch, earning a laugh.

  She wondered if it was different for him these days, now that the stakes were higher. Somehow, she doubted it. When it came to how he thought he should live life, J.J. wasn’t one to compromise. If he wasn’t enjoying things, he wouldn’t do it. Although, even for him, there were exceptions.

  After all, he was standing there in a tux.

  With his hair only slightly less disordered than usual, he looked completely delicious and utterly uncomfortable. The things we do for love, she thought. Then his eyes locked on hers and the breath backed up in her lungs. There was some special intensity to his gaze and he watched her as she moved to her place. And every male Trask in the bridal party turned to stare at him.

  All but one.

  Because, suddenly the music of the harpist changed. Suddenly the air was charged with breathless anticipation, and Hadley appeared under the archway that led out to the lobby, on the arm of her father. She was radiant, suffused with joy to the point that she glowed.

  Lainie glanced over at Gabe, who stared at his bride like a man poleaxed. It was amazing, Lainie thought, watching Hadley walk up the aisle. A year before, Gabe hadn’t even known she existed. Now she was his world. How things could turn on a dime, irrevocably.

  And without intending to, Lainie looked beyond to lock gazes with J.J. Reaction slammed through her system, as surely as though he’d touched her. How your life could just change in one day.

  Irrevocably.

  Chapter Twelve

  J.J. stood in the start house, waiting for the pips that would tell him when to go, the familiar prerace tension tightening his gut. Frigid air, glacier pure, knifed into his lungs. The sun shone down out of a perfectly clear sky, revealing every ridge on the icy snow of the course. He shifted restlessly.

 
; He was ready for this one, God knew he was ready after all the hours, the days, the months of training. All he wanted to do was get out on the course and feel the speed.

  And win.

  “You will.” The soft voice made him jump and he looked over in shock to see Lainie standing beside him, her eyes alive with promise.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “Go fast,” she whispered, and leaned in to kiss him.

  And took him to that place where all that mattered was the contact, the heat. Her mouth was soft and mobile against his, making everything else recede until all he was aware of was her, all he wanted was her.

  The pips interrupted them then, almost unnaturally loud in the cold. And then they got louder and louder, never stopping, never quieting until they were shrilling in his ears.

  The shrilling turned into ringing as J.J. came fighting up out of sleep. He groped on his bedside table for the cold metal of his cell phone and flipped it open. “’Lo?” he mumbled groggily.

  “What are you doing out there, sleeping half the day away?” demanded a male voice.

  “What?”

  “Jesus, listen to you. Wake up.”

  J.J. looked toward the still-darkened windows of his hotel room. “Why? The damned sun isn’t even up yet,” he growled.

  “Sure it is. It’s lunchtime already.”

  “Not where I am. Why are you calling me this early?” he demanded grumpily.

  “Do you always talk to people you don’t know like this?” the voice asked.

  “Madsen, only you would be this much of a pain in the ass,” J.J. shot back. Kurt Madsen, J.J.’s teammate from the U.S. Ski Team and Olympic medalist in the combined downhill and slalom. “It may be lunchtime where you are, but that’s because you’re in Innsbruck. I’m in Aspen.”

  “So?”

  “So it’s not even four-thirty in the morning.”