TWICE VICTORIOUS

by Judith B. Glad

  Stell heard his words in her ears and her memory. His voice had been familiar since the first time he'd come to her house, but she'd discounted it, knowing how one's mind played tricks after a concussion. "You were there! When I crashed."

  "I was there." He pulled her closer, cupping her cheek with his free hand. "My God, Stell, I've never been so scared in my life. You flew...and when you hit...the sound! And then you slid." She heard pain and fear, more than friendly concern.

  "You didn't even know me," she said, not understanding, but thrilled at his caring. She'd been alone for so long.

  "I'd been watching you." He lowered his face to hers, kissed her gently, the brush of his lips as light as a butterfly's wings. "I hardly took my eyes off you, from the time Rick first pointed you out." He touched the tip of her nose, still slightly tender, even though the scab had fallen off. "When I saw the blood, afterwards...." His shudder was eloquent. "And no one would tell me anything."

  "But you kept asking." She knew he had, for she'd heard his voice, over and over, seen his worry and fear for her in that out-of-time moment when her eyes had drifted to meet his. "You cared."

  Warmth flooded through her at his answering smile, tender and affectionate. She hugged him, grateful for his friendship. The next few months were going to be tough, and she needed all the friends she could get.

  He responded, holding her closely, protectively, in his arms. Gradually Stell became aware that his embrace was again becoming more than a simple hug.

  She pulled away. "This is not a good idea."

  "No," he admitted, reaching for her, pulling her close. "But it feels so good."

  "It does, doesn't it?" She slipped her arms up his shoulders, around his neck. "There's something between us, Adam. Something that scares me, even though I want to see where it goes." Chewing her lip, she said, "I...I'm not good at things like this."

  "Like what?" He stroked his fingertips along her spine, not forcing her closer, but needing to soothe.

  "Like this?" He kissed the tip of her nose.

  "Or this?" He tasted her lower lip.

  "How about this?" His hands cupped her bottom and he pulled her just close enough to feel the evidence of her effect on him.

  "Like dealing with the way I feel," she whispered, not resisting his hands, but not cooperating either. "I should ask you to go away, to not distract me while I put my life back together."

  Adam stiffened, as if afraid of what he might hear.

  And Stell cast caution and common sense to the winds. "Just this once, I don't feel like being sensible." The last words she breathed against his mouth.

  Adam tasted her sweetness, delighted in the warm velvet cavity into which his tongue plunged. He shared the hunger in her, shared the yearning as her hands touched and stroked and clung to his shoulders, his chest, his waist, even his buttocks.

  He was lost. The kisses he'd had before were pale imitations. This was the real thing. It lured. It demanded. It promised.

  And what it promised might be hazardous to his peace of mind.

  He forced his hands to quiet their frantic seeking, returned them gently to her shoulders. Her mouth clung and would not set his free. "Nnnnn." The impatient sound vibrated against his teeth, a demand for more.

  "Wait, Stell," he said. "Please."

  She stiffened in his arms. "Yes," she whispered. "Of course." Twisting her shoulders, she tried to slip free of his loose embrace.

  Although she wasn't looking at him, he sensed her distress. At him? Or at herself?

  She pushed against his chest. "Let me go."

  "Not yet. I want you to understand."

  "Understand? Oh, I understand. Perfectly." Her chin dropped and the steel in her melted. "I couldn't keep my hands off of you, could I? I'm surprised you didn't run for your life."

  "Run? My God, woman, it's been all I could do to stay away from you!" Adam pulled her hard against him. "Can't you tell how much I want you?"

  The glow in his eyes changed, even as she watched, from warm friendship to hot desire. "You're important to me, Stell." Tipping her chin up, he nibbled at her lips, willing her to share his aching need. "Maybe more important than you should be."

  Without waiting for an answer, he lowered his caressing hands to her bottom again, boldly pulling her up against the ridge of his arousal.

  Stell gasped with the power of her desire, as he took her mouth in a daring and greedy kiss. Resistance never occurred to her. The hunger she'd been denying for days filled her, making her want more than just a kiss, more than just the promise of his erection against her belly.

  When he sank onto the sofa, she gladly fell into his lap. As his hands explored her back and midriff, she writhed, wanting to feel their strength on her breasts. Her nipples tingled, ached, wanting to be nipped and suckled.

  She tore at his shirt buttons, knowing that his skin would burn under her hands. When her fingers found whorls of hair across his chest, they tangled themselves within, of their own accord. The hard pebble of his nipple stopped her frantic explorations, and she paused, to tease and tickle. His gasp told her how strong her effect was on him, but she had only a moment to enjoy it, for his fingers found the swell of her breast just then. He toyed with her nipple as she had with his, and her gasp was an echo.

  "Stell... Stell... Stell, so perfect. Not too big. Just enough to fill my palm." He laved her breast with a hot tongue.

  She lay back in his clasp as his seeking mouth found the other breast, as his hand explored along her midriff to her navel. She shuddered again when he shifted so that his mouth could follow the electric trail blazed by his adventurous fingers.

  "Ahhh, how I want you," he murmured against her abdomen as his mouth explored still lower, following the zipper as it slowly opened to his pull. "I want to touch you here...."

  She trembled as he found the hot center of her, gave herself up to sensation as his fingers stroked and rubbed. "Adam. Adam. Wait...."

  But it was too late. Even as she spoke, an irresistible force gathered within her, intensifying, building ever higher and stronger. He forced her to rise to it, guiding her with deft touches and sweet caresses, until she found herself storm-tossed and tumbling, out of control.

  And washed ashore, finally, in his arms.

  Chapter Four

  BLOCKING: getting in the way of riders behind to slow them down; often done for a teammate's advantage

  She clawed her way back to sanity, wishing it had never happened. Glad it had.

  She didn't have time in her life right now for what Adam Vanderhook made her feel.

  But oh! How she wished she did.

  "Adam we can't...."

  His fingers softly against her lips silenced her. "I know. I knew, but I didn't want to...couldn't stop." He buried his face against her neck. His arms held her loosely, but protectively. Without demand.

  "I feel so selfish," she murmured, enjoying the springiness of his hair under her stroking fingers. "It was all so...so one-sided." At first her hands had been as seeking and as demanding against his hard body as his had on hers, but when reality began to wobble, she'd forgotten everything but her own needs.

  She wanted to lead him to the same sweet release he'd given her. Slowly, her limbs still heavy, as if she were swimming in a river of molasses, she ran her hands up his chest to cup his face. He caught her fingers and brought them to his mouth, kissing one after another until all ten had felt the wet touch of his tongue.

  "Adam?"

  "Hush," he said again. "I'm fine."

  She knew he lied, for she could sense the subliminal vibration of his body as it reacted to the tension of unslaked desire. His breathing was quick and heavy, as if he'd just sprinted across a finish line.

  Slowly she felt the tension leaving him. Eventually he released her and raised his head. Deep lines around his mouth testified to the sacrifice he'd made in giving her pleasure--ecstasy--without demanding the same for himself.

  She felt relief. Her life was too comp
licated already, and he would be so easy to love. She felt shame, for her relief.

  "It's too soon," he said, leaning back and draping a casual arm across the back of the sofa. "I rushed you."

  "In case you hadn't noticed, I wasn't exactly struggling for my virtue," she answered, feeling her lips part in a rueful smile. "I practically climbed all over you." Even as she spoke, she became aware of something she'd never before experienced. If this had happened with any of the men she'd dated--even with Ethan, the one man she'd marginally considered marrying--she'd have been embarrassed talking about it. With Adam, it seemed natural to admit she wanted him, even though it wasn't the practical thing, the sensible thing, to do.

  "No, it's not sensible," he agreed, when she'd spoken her thoughts. "I guess I've seen too many people like you who don't have time for relationships. I want to stand in first place with my woman, not be squeezed in between competitions."

  Stell bit her lip. She wanted to take umbrage at his words, but she had to agree with them. Playing second fiddle to anything, be it cycling or the drive to succeed, wasn't any fun. Nor was it something she'd want to do if the situation were reversed.

  Still, she didn't appreciate being called "people like you" as if she were a type or something. Was she only a cycling competitor and an available female to Adam? Didn't he see all the other facets of her personality, her life?

  How could he? They'd met exactly three times, and all they'd done was react to each other sexually each time.

  At least she had. At their first meeting she had practically drooled all over him, and she hadn't improved with closer acquaintance.

  He had, though. Each time they were together, she saw more in him to like. And she still couldn't think of much beyond getting her hands on his body.

  Darn!

  "Adam, I think you'd better go. This isn't getting us anywhere, and I'm exhausted. I had P.T. again today, and..."

  He stroked her cheek, his fingers tracing along the bone and then down to her chin. His touch was warm and electrifying. "You look like you could sleep for a week. Are you sure you're not overdoing things?"

  Of course she was overdoing things! How else was she going to get back on her bicycle in time? "No. No I'm fine. I got up pretty early this morning, is all." She followed him along the hall, unable to help admiring the flex and bunch of his buttocks as he walked ahead of her. What a marvelous body! If she could only get him interested in cycling.

  Again his fingers drifted across her cheek. "Good night, Stell. Take care of yourself, okay?" Dipping his head, he kissed her lightly, fleetingly, before he stepped through the doorway. "And think about obsessions, will you?"

  He was gone before she found words. Hadn't he heard her? She was not obsessed with cycling. Riding in the Sawtooth Classic was a goal, like any other, and she would do what it took to attain it. That's all.

  * * * *

  Damn the woman! Why couldn't he get her out of his mind? Adam reached for the phone, wondering why someone who was all he disliked in women had such a hold on his attention and his emotions. He dialed quickly, tapped his fingers against the desktop as he counted the rings.

  He was about to give up when a breathless voice said, "Hello?"

  "Stell?"

  A deep, shuddering breath. "Yeah...yes, it's Stell. Just a minute, please." He heard the phone being laid down, listened to the rustling of cloth, more deep breaths, and a muffled, "Blast!" After a few minutes, she returned, her voice more normal and not breathless. "Hi. Is that you, Adam?"

  "What would you have done if it wasn't?" What in hell was she up to?

  "Gotten rid of you as quickly as possible. I'm soaked to the skin and it's cold in here."

  Adam shot a glance at his office window. May in Portland was one of two things, usually. Drizzly, or pouring. Today was a real gully-washer. "Don't catch pneumonia, then. Call me back when you're in dry clothes, okay?"

  "Yeah, sure. What's your number?"

  He knew she had it because he'd given her a business card the first time he'd called on her, right after her accident. Maybe she'd cared so little for him that she'd thrown it out. Patiently he recited his number, fighting and almost conquering the resentment that flared at the thought that she cared so little that she hadn't put his number on the bulletin board he'd seen on the wall by her phone.

  "Got it. Thanks." And he was listening to a dead line.

  A dozen times that day Adam wondered why he bothered. Each time his phone rang and he spoke to someone other than Stell, the resentment resurfaced. She didn't care enough to call him back. She wasn't even curious about why he'd called her.

  He was curious, too. Every practical, sensible bone in his body reminded him that he was asking for misery and heartbreak to keep pursuing Stell McCray. The pragmatic businessman, the realist who gave up a profitless will-o'-the-wisp to support his family, wondered why all common sense had suddenly flown out the window and been replaced by mindless lust for a skinny, muscle-bound, flat-chested, obsessive-compulsive woman who'd rather peddle a bicycle than make love with him.

  And then he'd remember the taste of her, the flavor of her kisses, the silkiness of her skin. And he'd know.

  The phone rang just as he was turning out the lights in his office, long after everyone else had gone home. He almost didn't answer it. Only a forlorn hope prompted him to reach across his desk and pick it up.

  "Adam? Adam, I'm sorry. I got involved with a new client and I...I forgot." She sounded truly remorseful. "Why did you call? Was there something you wanted?"

  Just you, he thought. Just you.

  "I wondered if you're going to the Small Business Seminar this weekend, out at Jantzen Beach." He'd meant to ask her that night at her place, then they'd become distracted.

  "Oh, Adam, I can't. I promised I'd work at the velodrome. It's the first race of the season."

  Cycling again. Hell, what should he expect? "How about the banquet then? I've got two tickets." He hadn't planned to attend the banquet, but if that was the only way he'd be able to see Stell, he'd do it.

  "Is it dressy?"

  "Not particularly. Office clothes, I'd imagine."

  "I suppose...wait a minute. What time does it start?"

  Adam flipped through the papers in his folder, sure he'd put the banquet tickets in there with the draft of the talk he was giving at the seminar. "Here it is. 'No-host cocktail hour from 6:30 to 7:30. Dinner at 7:30.' I could pick you up about 6:15."

  "No, that won't work. I won't be home by then." She was silent for a moment, until he wondered if she'd gone to sleep. "Look, why don't I meet you there? I promise I can be there before they serve dinner." Her voice was hesitant, as if she were futilely seeking an excuse to turn him down.

  He carefully reassembled the contents of the file folder, using the small activity to hold on to his patience. "I'd like to pick you up, Stell. It's no trouble."

  "Uh, that's not it, Adam. I may not be finished with the race until about six. They often run later than that, but I could probably get away by then. I'll just take my clothes with me and change in the restroom."

  Heat suffused Adam's head and neck. "Look, if you don't want to go with me, just say so. Don't give me all sorts of excuses." He knew five women who'd jump at the chance to be his date Saturday night. Beautiful women. Charming women.

  "I am not making excuses. I simply have other commitments."

  "Well, then maybe you'd better satisfy them, and forget about the banquet." Shoving the file folder back to the corner of his desk, he switched off the lamp and prepared to hang up.

  "Wait just a darn minute! I said I'd go with you and I'm going with you. If your little ego demands you pick me up at my door, I'll be there. Six-fifteen, you said?"

  "That's what I said," he snapped. Who was she to talk about egos? Anyone who competed like she did had to believe she was the best.

  "I'll be ready. Just don't be late." The click in his ear was so abrupt that he was sure she'd slammed the receiver into its cradle
.

  Interesting. She didn't have time for him in her life, so she said. Then he'd pushed, just a little, and she'd reacted.

  Adam had always prided himself on being able to take advantage of his opponent's vulnerability. Had he just identified Stell's? Maybe she was as fascinated by him, as confused by her feelings about him, as unable to stay away from him.

  The thought made him smile.

  * * * *

  Stell was so tired by the time she reached home that she thought about calling off the evening. Would have, if she'd had any idea how to reach Adam. Instead she drank the last Coke she had in the fridge, hoping it had enough caffeine in it to keep her awake this evening.

  She showered quickly. Her knee hurt, so she wrapped it in an elastic bandage, not wanting to wear the brace over the pleated navy gabardine slacks she'd decided to wear. With a loose silk shirt patterned richly in swirls of fuchsia, turquoise and persimmon, and a heavy gold chain looped at her neck, she looked good enough for a business dinner. Even better, with the slacks, she could wear her Birkenstocks and be comfortable.

  When Adam rang her doorbell, she found herself looking forward to the evening.

  "How was your day?" he said as he steered the car down the winding street from her house.

  "I've never sat out a whole day of races before. By four o'clock, I was so frustrated, wanting to be out there riding, that I almost went home."

  "Why didn't you?" He sounded more curious than anything.

  "I'd never do that. My team was depending on me to be there."

  "Umm," was all he said.

  Tired as she was, Stell was content to sit quietly, her forehead against the window. She hadn't been out much since her accident. Now, seeing how advanced spring was, she realized she'd missed most of the spectacular floral show Portland put on each year. When she was out riding every day, she was aware of each new flowering, starting with the hazels in February and progressing through all the different native and cultivated plants that made this such a beautiful place to live. This year she'd caught the daffodils, and nothing much thereafter.