“Evening,” said Jacob with a curt nod at the man. He slid a bottle across the table to Ariel.
“You wouldn’t mind if I took this lovely lady for a spin on the dance floor, would you?” the man asked Jacob. “I mean, seeing as how you’re just friends?”
Jacob sat down next to Ariel and threw an arm around her shoulder. He held the man’s eye for a long moment. The tension between them crackled.
“As a matter of fact, I would mind,” said Jacob slowly. “My friend and I have just decided to take our relationship to the next phase. So if you’ll excuse us … ” And with that, Jacob pulled Ariel against him. And he kissed her.
His lips were warm. Demanding. His tongue parted her lips and Ariel felt flames lick up her spine. Her surprised resistance melted in an instant and she responded to his kiss. She forgot about everything around her. With her eyes closed and Jacob’s mouth claiming hers, she almost thought she was on the rooftop again, the stars close above her, a stranger’s strong body cradling her, holding her close. She forgot it was Jacob she was kissing. Forgot everything but the feeling. The desire. From a great distance, it seemed, she heard the man mutter, “I get the point.”
She broke away from Jacob and saw the man pushing his way toward the pool tables. She looked at Jacob. He’d leaned back against the booth. He was watching her closely. Waiting for her reaction. She flushed.
“What was that about?” she asked unsteadily.
“I could have told him to take the next dance,” said Jacob. His voice was frankly unapologetic. “I could have said we weren’t even friends. That you were a reporter and you’d be free as soon as we finished our business.”
“Or you could have let me handle it myself,” said Ariel. “Instead of acting out your machismo.”
“Machismo?” Jacob repeated. “Hmmmm … ” He folded his muscular arms across his chest. It looked like he was trying to fight back a smile. “Are you going to press with that?” he asked. “It’s not the most original line … ”
“What you just did was completely inappropriate,” she said in a prim tone. She tried to scoot away from him but he closed the distance between them. There was no more room between her and the wall. His stared at her, eyes lingering on her lips. She couldn’t fight the magnetic force that drew them together. But she tried.
“It was completely unprofessional,” she continued. He dropped his head so that his lips were beside her ear.
“You didn’t mind the other night,” he whispered. Ariel’s world spun. The whisper tickled her ear. Raised goose-bumps along her arms. “When I held you in my arms … in the light of the Milky Way … ”
Ariel drew a shuddering breath. Jacob took her hand and gently pressed something into her palm. She looked down. A golden charm.
“You lost this,” said Jacob gently. “It seems like it may be important to you.”
“It is,” Ariel whispered. “It’s very important to me.” She slipped the charm into her pocket. She hadn’t even noticed it was gone. The thought of losing it made her breath catch in her throat. How could she reconcile this moody man, the subject of her investigation, with the man on the rooftop who took her breath away? Who flooded her with passion? She’d almost had sex with him even though she’d only met him moments before. Even though she hadn’t known his name. But if she admitted to herself, she must have realized it was him.
Jacob Hunter.
She wanted to kill him. She wanted to kiss him. She let him to lead her back to the parking lot. She slid behind him onto the motorcycle in silence.
The wind felt cool and soothing, but it wasn’t enough. Her body was on fire everywhere it came into contact with Jacob’s. She was aching, burning with desire for him. When he pulled up outside the hotel, she jumped off the bike, breaking the physical contact between them as quickly as she could.
She had never felt so confused in her life. How could she reconcile her feelings for this man with the demands of her assignment? And if she couldn’t handle this assignment professionally, objectively, and ethically — meaning not sleeping with her subject — what did it say about her as a journalist? She’d already lost one career to a weakness of the body. She wasn’t losing a second.
She followed Jacob to the elevators without speaking, her thoughts in a whirl. They entered the same elevator and Jacob pushed the button for his floor.
“Ariel … ” began Jacob as the door slid closed. He pulled her against him for a deep kiss. A kiss that turned her legs to jelly. She felt his hands move down her back, cup her bottom. He held her tightly so that her belly nestled against his rock-hard thighs.
She took a deep breath. Stepped back from him. She pushed the button for her own floor, below Jacob’s.
“Jacob,” she said in a tight, high voice, “why don’t you tell me about the bar fight you had in Minturn last week?”
Jacob stared at her, emotions playing across his face. Surprise. Anger. Even — hurt? Ariel was suddenly overcome with despair.
“Why are you asking me that?” he said softly.
“Because I’m here to write a story about you,” said Ariel, miserably. “Remember? I’m not here for … this.”
Jacob’s handsome face grew hard. “There is no this,” he said. They stared at each other for a long moment in silence.
The door opened at Ariel’s floor. She bolted from the elevator, hot tears spilling onto her cheeks. The sound of Jacob’s voice followed her down the hall.
“If you have trouble sleeping, try to stay out of the pool. That’s where the sharks hang out.”
Ariel flung herself on her bed. She’d have no problem staying away from the pool tonight. No problem at all.
Chapter Seven
The sun rose over the crest of Red Peak, sending exploratory rays through the cracks in Ariel’s curtains. Ariel woke at the first touch of the sun’s light on her face. For a moment, she lay comfortably in the warm, soft nest of the hotel bed, enjoying the silky feel of the high thread count sheets and the plump down pillows.
Her comfort was short-lived. As soon as her sleep-fogged mind cleared enough to bring the events of the previous night into focus, she sat bolt upright, her heart pounding. What had she done? Jeopardized — no, ruined — her chances at writing a serious story on Jacob Hunter. She’d broken all the rules of journalistic ethics, gotten too involved — far, far too involved — with her subject … with Jacob. The man she was supposed to be investigating.
She had failed miserably. She didn’t even know if she could face Jacob again.
She sprang out of bed, the wild idea of packing and getting on the first plane back to New York half-formed in her mind. Still in her pajamas, she dragged her suitcase from the closet and began gathering her clothing from the dresser where she’d neatly placed it just a few days before.
Just as she’d finished collecting her underthings into a tidy bundle, there was a knock on the door. Confused — the maids didn’t start cleaning rooms this early — Ariel yelled, “Just a minute!”
Grabbing a terry cotton robe from a hook in the bathroom, she opened the door to find a young man in the white shirt and black vest of the hotel restaurant staff. He was pushing a cart covered in immaculate white linen, set with silver dishes and pitchers, graced with a bouquet of beautiful blue flowers in a crystal vase. As if reading her mind, the young man nodded toward the flowers as he wheeled the cart to a spot near the window. “Colorado Rocky Mountain Columbine. Special request. The florists don’t have them. Wonder who had to scamper all over the mountains for those?” He grinned at Ariel.
Since when are teenagers so cheerful at seven in the morning? Ariel wondered. Removing the lids from the dishes to reveal baskets of croissants and muffins as well as a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and hash browns, he said, “Guy who ordered it said you’d be needing a good breakfast. Said to give you this.�
�� He handed her a shopping bag from one of the town’s nicer boutiques, concealed on the lower rack of the cart.
“Café au lait?” he asked brightly, unfazed by Ariel’s startled expression. He took her silence for assent, and poured her a cup of coffee, mixing it half and half with hot milk till it turned a creamy, light brown.
It smelled delicious — Ariel was suddenly dying for a cup of that perfectly roasted coffee. Her teenage waiter turned to go. Ariel fumbled for her purse. “Don’t worry ,” he said with another cocky grin, “he already took care of the tip.”
Ariel could guess who “he” might be. She sighed and sat down to breakfast.
By the time, she’d finished her food — as much of it as she could eat — and drunk nearly the whole pot of coffee, Ariel was thinking more clearly. It would be crazy, she told herself, to run away at a time like this, just when things were getting interesting.
Remembering the mysterious bag, she sat down on the bed and opened it to find not, as she’d expected, some tourist gew-gaw, but what looked like a complete set of cycling gear. Exactly what Jacob wore. Shorts, jersey, gloves, socks, shoes. All in sizes far smaller than Jacob would have fit into.
At the bottom of the bag, there was an envelope. Ariel extracted a notecard — heavy stock embossed with the hotel’s name and crest. In angular, masculine handwriting, the note read, I’m sorry for what happened last night. I’d like to spend the day with you. You said your readers wanted to know Jacob Hunter, the man, that they already know Jacob Hunter, the athlete. But to know the man, you have to know the sport. Get ready for your ride.
Ariel sat down on the bed, completely taken aback. She was surprised that Jacob had apologized for what had happened between them. Hadn’t she been the one to upset him, bringing up the fight in the bar? Then to run away from the intensity of their openly expressed physical attraction? She had a hard time imagining that Jacob was perceptive enough to understand that it was exactly that intensity that had led to her outburst, her conflicted feelings for him causing her to lash out just when they’d acknowledged that they wanted each other … badly. But, since the moment they’d met, Jacob had done nothing but surprise her.
She flushed, remembering the feeling of his rock-hard body supporting her own, of pressing herself against him shamelessly, of melting into his kiss. Feeling the sudden ache of desire deep in her belly, she wondered again how she would face him this morning.
It was clear, however, that running away was no longer an option. She had to finish what she’d started. She could let this story derail her career, cost her her future — or she could continue to delve into the mystery of Jacob’s behavior, and publish whatever she discovered. A real breakthrough on this story could make her very, very successful.
As soon as she had the thought, Ariel was awash with guilt. She couldn’t understand why, though. At least not intellectually. Wasn’t Jacob a hotshot athlete cheating to win? A macho egomaniac? But then he did such surprisingly kind things. Like send her breakfast. With flowers.
Ariel had to face facts. Her fascination with Jacob was more than professional. She was consumed with the desire to understand his contradictory signals, to learn his secrets. It was clear he had secrets. Maybe it was just the coffee talking, but she was for the first time completely confident in her ability to learn them all. But what, she wondered, would she do once she had?
Jumping up from the bed, Ariel showered and then set herself to the task of dressing herself in the unfamiliar clothing Jacob had sent her. It wasn’t complicated. But when she finished, she wondered if she’d have the nerve to leave her room in anything so revealing.
Ariel wasn’t unduly modest. But as she examined herself nervously in the full-length mirror, she had a hard time imagining that her outfit could be considered decent, by anyone. Excepting her time in dance studios and onstage, she’d never worn anything so … tight.
Both the shorts and the jersey were in Jacob’s team colors — black, striped up the sides with burgundy and white, the sponsors name’s printed in white on the chest, back, and shoulders. Craning her head over her shoulder, Ariel noted that the spandex was completely molded to her body, revealing every swell and contour of her waist, her legs — and her derriere. She sighed. Theo had no idea what he’d gotten her into. She was going to kill him. Just as soon as she made it back to New York.
She looked around the room, wondering if she needed anything else. She’d have to assume that Jacob had it covered. Marshaling her courage, she left the room and let the lock click behind her — wondering, in the meantime, where she was supposed to put her key-card.
In the elevator, she patted herself down for pockets, discovering one at the small of her back. She slipped the card into it and waited for the elevator to ding at Jacob’s floor. As the door slid open, she threw her shoulders back and shook her damp hair out behind her. If she’d learned anything in her time as a dancer, it was that perfect posture was often an adequate substitute for real confidence.
Marching down the hall to Jacob’s door, she forced herself to knock immediately and loudly. Revealing her underlying timidity wasn’t going to get her anywhere. Jacob answered the door more quickly than Ariel would have liked. He was dressed in identical spandex, and as soon as he saw her a raffish grin lit up his handsome face.
“You look great,” he told her, raking her up and down with hungry eyes. Did he find her attractive in her bizarre get-up? Ariel was incredulous. But there was no mistaking the gleam in his eyes. Or the sudden tumescence in his shorts.
• • •
Stepping back from the door, Jacob intentionally held it open so that she passed in front of him into the room, hungrily appreciating the swelling curves of her ass cupped in black spandex. It was just as spectacular as he’d expected. Truth be told, he’d been looking forward to this moment all morning. And with the day he’d planned ahead of them, he’d be enjoying the sight of it for hours longer.
He was amazed by the intensity of his sudden desire to press his groin against the succulent roundness of her backside, to feel his hard manhood cradled by the cleft of her buttocks, to slip himself into the sweet, slick heaven between her legs.
Easy, boy, he told himself, you don’t want to spend the whole day with a hard-on for all the world to see. Think of baseball.
Turning to face him, Ariel said, “So we’re going on a ride? Don’t you have to train today? I might slow you up.”
“Today’s an easy day. I’m resting this week. Today I’m scheduled to do seventy miles. Easy pace. It’ll be no problem for an athlete like yourself,” he said challengingly.
But all she said was, “Sounds great. I’d love to see more of the countryside. The mountains are so beautiful. Where will we be riding?”
“We’ll have the van drop us on a loop road, up in one of the ski bowls. Pretty flat — relatively speaking. I’ve got everything we need in the van. Including a bike for you.”
He ushered her out the door — feasting his eyes on her ravishing figure all the way down the hall.
• • •
They rode for several miles in companionable silence. Ariel was stunned by the beauty of the majestic mountains, the alpine meadows sprinkled with wildflowers, the rushing brooks. After a few hours, however, her legs began to burn, and her breath caught in her throat during the frequent climbs.
Just like spin class, she told herself. Power through it. She couldn’t help wondering, with trepidation, how many miles they’d come — and how many more they had to go.
She was also certain that she was slowing Jacob’s progress dramatically. His “easy” pace felt like a sprint to her. She could keep up with him on the flat stretches — barely — but she couldn’t help falling behind as they made their way up long, gradual hills.
Ariel wasn’t in top dancing form, but still, she walked everywhere in the city, went to the gym, a
nd went to yoga and pilates when she could fit the classes into her week. She was in pretty good shape. But the altitude wore on her more than she expected. They were at least nine thousand feet above sea level. The air was clear, clean — and thin. Ariel gasped and panted. She was annoyed that she wasn’t making the tough, strong impression she’d wanted to make on Jacob. After a few more miles, however, she was too wiped out to focus on feeling annoyed. Or to focus on anything else besides the pavement slipping away under her wheels.
He’d told her to ride slightly behind and to the side of him, drafting in his wake. She was grateful for his easy silence and his obvious concessions to her inexperience. After they’d ridden for what felt like hours — Jacob pausing only for Ariel to catch up at the tops of the increasingly painful hills, and to sip water from her sports bottle — Ariel heard a sudden sharp crack, followed by a loud rattling. She felt a jolt and then a sudden slackness in her peddling. She coasted to an involuntary stop, looking down to see what the problem was. It seemed her chain had broken. It hung sadly from the teeth of her chain ring.
Jacob stopped beside her, frowning with displeasure. “Goddamn Ben,” he swore, an angry look on his face. “I told him to have the mechanics look that bike over this morning. It should be in perfect condition.” He looked up at her, and for a moment, Ariel thought she saw a speculative expression flit across his features. Then he simply looked annoyed. She felt too tired to try to analyze his reaction, simply grateful for the rest this technical problem was providing.
“Can you fix it?” she asked. She was annoyed to hear the fatigue in her voice. Man up, Ariel, she told herself. Isn’t this the moment when you show this guy how tough you are?
“No,” Jacob shook his head emphatically. “I don’t have the tools.” He turned to scan the landscape around them. They’d come to a stop in a little ravine, with rises on each side crested by fir trees. Ariel thought she heard the chattering of a brook nearby. “We’ll have to hang out for a little bit. We can eat some energy bars and rest up. When we don’t show up on time, the van will come looking for us. Shouldn’t be too long.” He gestured up the hill to the trees. “We’ll leave the bikes up there so they see us. I think there’s a creek on the other side. Nice and shady. Come on up.”
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