by Madelon Smid
“You’re going back east?” Jake’s total attention swung to her.
“Ty needs me to go to Copenhagen, but is giving me to the end of the week so I can have a little time with Mom.”
“Of course you’re welcome to travel with us.” Jake had his boardroom face on so she couldn’t read his thoughts at all. “So you’re going to be out of the country for…”
Ty answered for her. “It won’t take my financial whiz kid more than a week to set up a banking system that allows our client to open in three new countries simultaneously. What we learned from this experience with JDI will come in handy in making sure there are no blind overlaps, don’t you think?” Ty looked from Siree, who had gone silent, to Sharon for a clue as to the sudden tension at the table. He cleared his throat, arranging his chopsticks on his empty plate.
“After that I head for Curaçao,” Siree added. She turned to Sharon. “A hotel chain comprised of thirteen resorts on various islands in the Caribbean is going under because of the problem with government graft and embargoes and continually changing tariffs on their supplies. So many bureaucrats are taking bites out of them they’re bleeding to death. I will design a centralized system to handle their finances. It will minimize the number of governments involved. I expect it to take me a minimum of three weeks.”
“So you’re out of country for a month.” Jake’s thumb brushed his bottom lip.
“It appears that way.” She met the dark storm in the center of his eyes, not sure if she read passion or consternation in their heated depths.
“Did you think about the climb I suggested for Sunday? We’re going to scramble on Mt. Harvey. There’re some good multi-pitch routes we can access. I could arrange for one of my friends to pick you up and bring you back so you don’t have to worry about being seen with me.”
“Surely, that’s not necessary.” Sharon rested her hand on his arm.
Faced with yet another instance of Jake protecting her privacy over his own desire to spend time with her, Siree felt like a coward. Yet her chest tightened at the mere thought of exposing herself to the paparazzi that followed him around. She twisted her chopsticks, picked crumbs from the table, fighting her inner demons.
He laid his hand over hers. “Relax. There’s no pressure. Sam’s a great guy and lots of fun. He and Josh and I have been friends since college. Josh and Sam were part of my first technical team, but broke away to form their own companies once JDI got off the ground. We try to get together to climb several times a year, just like you with your friends in Paris. It will be a great day of climbing, and you don’t have to expose yourself to the press if he picks you up here and brings you back.”
“It sounds like something you’d really enjoy, darling,” Sharon encouraged. “Who knows when you’ll get another climb in with the schedule Ty has planned for you.”
Who knows when I’ll get another chance to be with Jake. Siree picked up on the thought her mother had left unspoken. She turned to Jake, letting him see her pleasure. “I’d like that, Jake. It’s a date.” Her choice of words was deliberate. “I hope your friends don’t mind that you’re including me in their time with you.”
“No, they’ve brought girlfriends before, so the precedent’s been set.” Gold flecks brightened Jake’s azure eyes to aquamarine.
Siree knew he’d chosen his words just as deliberately.
“I hope you don’t mind that I’m stealing her away from you for the day,” he said to Sharon.
“Nonsense. We have tomorrow and Saturday, and there is a rumor”—her eyes met Ty’s—“that she’ll be back in Vancouver at the end of the month.”
“Oh?” Siree’s brows rose. “What rumor?”
Ty cleared his throat, patted his mouth with his napkin and cleared his throat again. “Your mother persuaded me to give you a few days break.”
“It’s the price of getting me for a running partner when he comes out in June for business,” Sharon explained with a smug look.
“She’s a tough negotiator, your mother.” Ty waggled his bushy brows at Sharon. “Says she’s taking me in hand and whipping me into shape.” He hid his pleasure in a pseudo scowl.
Siree and Jake looked at each other in surprise, while Sharon took enormous interest in the last slice of water chestnut left on her plate.
“Well, I won’t say no to that.” Siree lifted her wine glass and tapped it to her mother’s. “Here’s to a tough negotiator.”
“Kanpai.” Sharon spoke the toast in soft guttural Japanese. She switched to English. “And thank you both for a lovely meal.” She put her hands together and bowed first toward Ty, then Siree.
The men lifted their glasses in turn. “If I don’t want to be the odd man out, I better come up with a reason to be in Vancouver early in June, too.” Jake spoke lightly, but the intent in his eyes sizzled through Siree’s body like water through an espresso machine.
****
Sunday dawned clear and golden. Siree dressed for the climb, prepared for just about anything, except for the great purring beast of a motorcycle Jake’s friend pulled up to the front entrance.
When she walked out the door to meet him, Sam Prazynski pulled off his helmet and gave her a saucy grin. “I can see why Jake insisted you come along,” he flirted. “I hope you don’t mind the Beast.”
With his golden good looks, Sam went through women like wind through a tunnel, she guessed, but with no harm in him.
She let her gaze run over the gleaming machine to his leather-clad figure and gave him a saucy smile of her own. “Oh, I think I can handle the Beast.”
Sam acknowledged the hit, and handed her a helmet with a bow. “A worthy opponent indeed.”
In minutes they were off, weaving through the Sunday morning traffic. Sam handled the bike with skill and no need to show off, so Siree soon settled into the rhythm of curves and speed.
Clear of the city, Sam opened the throttle and they went for several miles, climbing steadily up a secondary highway, before turning off on a dirt road. He slowed to a stop and put his foot down to brace the bike. “You okay, Siree?”
“Just fine.” She had been enjoying the feel of being one with the wind, the throaty purr of the bike and the sense of timelessness that had taken hold.
“It’s going to get a lot rougher from now on,” he explained. “This is the reason we rent the bikes, so we can get in closer to the climbs we want, avoid some of the more popular areas. Josh and I came in Friday night to get some time with Jake. They left just ahead of me and should be waiting at the trailhead we’ve chosen. Hang on.”
In the next ten minutes she gained experience in becoming one with the Beast. It leapt and twisted, turned on a dime, fishtailed and jostled around the rock-strewn base of Mt. Harvey to the east slope. When they rounded a curve and she spotted Jake leaning against a black motorcycle, she drew a breath that sucked her heart up into her throat. He straightened at the sight of the bike, threw his leather jacket across the saddlebag and set his helmet on the seat. He strode toward them, his eyes radiating welcome enough to flatter any woman. And I’m not so easy to flatter. Oh, God, I’m a goner. This man has me acting like a giddy teenager.
Before she could dismount, or Sam could reach to help her, Jake set his hands on either side of her waist and lifted her high enough to pull her foot across the bike. In slow motion he let her slide down his body to the ground. Hokey, yes, a move right out of a bad boy’s play book, and it turned her bones to jelly. She clung to his biceps while she regained her balance, feeling his warmth radiating along the parts of them that still touched. Hips, thighs, even the side of her breast wanted to stay glued to his muscled chest. She trailed her fingers across the hard curve of his pectoral muscle and went into sensory overload when his warm skin beckoned. She felt him harden against her pelvis and whimpered under her breath.
“You two need a moment?” Sam’s dry tone doused the building inferno.
“What makes you think that?” Jake’s bland look made Sam laugh. “Jus
t helping Siree with her helmet.”
She stepped away and raised her hands to the fastening, only to have Jake brush them aside and undo it himself. “Here”—he thrust the helmet into Sam’s gut—“make yourself useful.”
“And I thought I just did.” Sam grinned wickedly at a third man Siree hadn’t even registered to this point.
“Josh, look what our Jacob has brought to the party.” He winked at Siree, who knew it wasn’t her, but Jake’s hard on he mocked.
“Get a life, Pradzyski.” A light blush mounted Jake’s high cheekbones. “I hope you’re not going to be a smart ass, too.” He turned to Josh. “Siree, Joshua Chandler. Josh works out of DC.”
“Siree Lorain McConnell,” she found herself adding, some part of her insisting she have an honest relationship with the two friends that mattered most to Jake. She shook hands with Josh, a taller more slender version of Jake, his body honed, his eyes radiating intelligence.
“Sam. Samuel, I’d wager.” She turned to lay a sweet smile on Sam. “Three biblical wise men. Is that what brought you together in university?”
“That and a leftover keg at a frat party.” Sam’s teeth flashed as his eyes and mouth widened in appreciation at her accuracy. “I live in Seattle.”
“Well, we came to climb.” She picked up on Josh’s restless pacing, although she guessed he always appeared like his skin felt a little too tight. “If you give me my gear, Sam, I’ll be ready to go.”
Siree’s fun-o-metre hit a new high. Climbing with three more experienced climbers pushed her limits to the max, but she did it. Soon, Sam and Josh moved further away. She guessed they had weighed her ability and felt confident in leaving her on her own. Jake stayed near. She wondered if the same magnetic pull that influenced her dragged at him.
The three men raced each other up the rock faces, swung from abutment to overhang, from chimney to ledge. The sound of voices ringing with challenge and laughter, victory, and the mock groans of defeat echoed and reechoed.
Scrambling with Jake and his friends became her favorite form of climbing. She swung herself across a deep fissure in the rock to a wide ledge on the other side and turned to look down to the valley floor. Nothing moved below. It could be a million years earlier. She felt the timeless energy of the rock pulsing through her, beating a primitive rhythm that enticed her to dance with life. Intoxicated by the view, the adrenaline rushing through her blood, the sight of Jake leaping from an outcrop to the edge of her ledge, she saturated herself in the moment.
“The guys want to go over the saddle and get that chimney on the next peak. I thought we’d stop here for lunch and meet them at the bottom.” His hot breaths, still rough from excursion, wafted across her forehead. “You can’t beat the view.”
It was almost 1:30p.m. Her stomach gurgled at the thought of food. She moved to a shaded spot at the back of the ledge and crouched down to pick shards of fallen rock from a small space. She cleared a patch wide enough for both of them. He came up behind her and lifted her pack. She pressed her damp back to the cool rock and watched him shrug off his pack. His narrow hips twisted and the soft bulge in the front of his khaki shorts drew her eye.
The width of the ledge allowed them to stretch their legs straight with several feet left to the sharp drop-off. His thigh brushed hers as he settled beside her, though there was plenty of room to spread out. Tucked into their private pocket away from the world, Siree couldn’t remember ever being so happy. She wiggled her legs to loosen the muscles and relished the feel of her tense body relaxing. Peaks, like a jagged picket fence, surrounded them, yet she could see down narrow canyons and up to the bluest sky, great mountain vistas of incredible beauty.
Motion far to her left drew her attention. Sam and Josh came around a rocky outcrop and started across the face of another incline.
“They look like a couple of spider monkeys.” Jake started to laugh. “Watch out!” They both sat like statues as Sam missed a grip and slid four feet down the mountain before catching another handhold. They could see Josh’s mouth moving and across the chasm echoed, “Climb like a drunken orangutan!”
Sam looked up at his climbing buddy, his own mouth going a mile a minute, while he thrust his middle finger toward Josh. “Screw you, buddy!”
“So much for a profanity free zone.” Jake’s lips clamped tight, the corner quivering. “They sound like a couple of apes, too.”
She stifled a giggle. “Or an old married couple.” She bit the inside of her cheek, met his eyes and they both lost it. Laughter gushed out of her, boomed out of him, and caught the attention of his friends, who froze in place, staring over at them. For some reason this seemed even funnier and sent them off into new whoops.
She wrapped her arms around her abused stomach muscles, panting for breath. “Your friends are great. They’re really like two kids fighting over the monkey bars.” She gasped and went off in another peal of laughter at the image. When she looked up, he had stopped laughing. He stared at her with a warm appreciation that teased heat over her cheekbones. She pressed her lips together. His attention moved to her mouth and stayed there. She pressed shaky fingers over her lips. “Don’t.”
His eyebrow quirked up. “Don’t what?”
Don’t make me feel love sick. Unsure. Out of control. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“I can’t help it. You’re enchanting, laughter bathed in sunlight. I’m happy when I’m with you, and that’s a hard thing to find in my life these days. But I’m sorry if I make you uncomfortable.” He linked his fingers loosely in front of his raised knees and directed his attention at his friends, until they were out of sight.
She felt like the sun had ducked behind a cloud when his eyes left her. She lifted her pack onto her lap and started to lay out her lunch. “I brought chicken and lettuce on whole-wheat. Do you want one?”
He looked down at her, recognizing her peace offering. “I brought my own, thanks. He pulled a Styrofoam container out of his pack, opening it.
She breathed in the smell of pastrami and mustard, sauerkraut and fresh bread and her mouth watered.
“I’ll share.”
She looked up from the sandwich to find his laughing eyes back on her, where it seemed she’d wanted them all along.
She wrinkled her nose at him. “I couldn’t get my mouth around that thing to take a bite.”
“Oh, I think you could manage if you wanted it badly enough.” His eyes teased with their wicked glint, yet some deeper meaning hid behind the sober lines of his face.
“Here, try my kosher pickle first.” He lifted out a gigantic pickle and offered it.
Tantalized by the smell of vinegar and dill, she leaned forward to take a bite. Her lips closed around it, sucked the salty brine that flooded her mouth. “Mmmm.” She watched Jake’s pupils dilate, and bit down hard, pleased with the audible crunch.
“Ouch.” He flinched, and stared at the missing end of his pickle.
“Delicious.” She stroked her lips with her tongue in a slow circle.
He tracked the motion like a panther locked on his prey. “Siree,” he croaked.
“Siree isn’t here. I’m her wicked twin, Desiree,” she whispered in her best vamp voice.
His eyes glinted. “I could get into a wicked Desiree.”
Siree stifled a giggle. “No, I don’t think so.” She measured his chagrin.
“You just keep getting better and better.”
“Glad you approve.” She gave him a mock bow from the waist. “Now give me back the pickle,” she growled.
****
An eagle soared above. Its wild cry called to something primal in Siree. She roused from her torpor to follow its progress across a narrow wedge of sky. She must have dozed off. Her head rested in the hollow of Jake’s shoulder, his arm holding her in place. A quick peek told her his eyes were closed. His chest moved beneath her in a steady rise and fall. She listened to the strike of his heart against her ear. Her fingers crept upward to feel the hair peeking ab
ove the low curve of his tank top. Silky, just as I thought.
“No pulling,” he said in a sleep-drugged voice. His hand came up to hold hers in place. “Touch me, Siree. I’ve waited for weeks for you to touch me.” He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss in the palm before setting it back on his chest.
Licensed to bring one of her fantasies to life, she turned more fully into him, her thighs curling up to rest on his. She dropped her free hand to his waist and found the edge of the tank. Inserting her hand under it, she took ship on a voyage of discovery, travelling from the hard muscles that braided his rib cage like bands of steel, over the slope of well-developed pectoral muscles and into the shallow valley between. The patch of silken hair required her to dally, before she sailed on to the hollow above his collarbone, the pulse throbbing at the base of his throat, the strong column of his neck. The tank climbed with her arm, leaving his hard body bare and brown for her delight. She pressed a kiss over his heart, felt, more than heard, his deep groan. Her tongue flicked out to taste him, salt and soap and Jake. His fingers tangled in her braid and eased her head back, exposing her face. His eyes spoke his intent to kiss her.
She quaked at the thought. I’ve waited and wondered so long. Jake’s kiss. Frightening. Momentous. It’s just a kiss. No, it’s something that can change my life. Maybe. Then find out. It’s time to know. She pulled her hand from under his tank to trace his jawline. The tense muscles twitched beneath her finger. His lips smooth, velvet, moistened her finger as she pressed it inside. He sucked it in further, his tongue stroking its length, as he tasted her in turn. She moaned. Her eyes closed. She lifted her mouth. He released her finger and touched his lips to hers in a whisper of a kiss.
“Our first kiss,” he breathed so close to her lips. If she puckered, she would feel his mouth. She mewled like a blind kitten seeking a touch. Again, his lips brushed hers, returned, changed the angle, pressed a little firmer, advanced, and pulled back. He teased, until, with a hungry cry, she held his head still and pressed her mouth to his. Ardent, hungering, she soared with him into a cloud of passion, where they both flew blind.