Out of Character

by Diana Miller

  She met his eyes again as she chewed her bottom lip.

  “Call Kristen and tell her where you’ll be.” He stroked her cheek with his fingertips. “You can trust me, Jillian.”

  She hesitated then nodded. “But just for a little while.”

  * * * *

  As Jillian followed Mark’s car, snowflakes sparkled in her headlights, the streetlights, and the full moon, turning the world into a glittering snow globe. It was a beautiful night, too beautiful to be doing something so stupid.

  Why was she driving to a townhouse in the hills outside Keystone at night with a man she’d known for less than ten hours? So what if their conversations made her feel as if she’d known him for months. So what if he was the most attractive, interesting, intelligent, and considerate man she’d met since Andy. So what if she somehow sensed she could trust him, and he’d made her call Kristen, further evidence he wasn’t planning anything criminal.

  She didn’t do things like this. Once again, she’d let Mark convince her to act out of character. This was it, though. She’d have one drink and leave. If Mark tried anything, she’d use some of those self-defense moves that worked so well on ER drunks or maybe the mace she kept in the front pocket of her purse.

  Jillian drove up the driveway of a modern wood and stone townhouse and pulled into the attached double garage beside Mark’s car. He’d suggested she park inside so she wouldn’t have to clean the snow off her car when she left, and she’d agreed since that would help her make a quick get-away, if necessary. She grabbed her purse, mace and cell phone in the front pocket, and got out of the car. After Mark showed her the button to open the garage door, and she’d tested it, she followed him into the house.

  His warm, firm lips met hers. He’d promised they’d just talk. His mint espresso kiss felt so good Jillian ordered her brain to shut up, rested her hands on his shoulders, and kissed him back.

  Mark pulled her against him. His tongue probed her lips, eased them open, and explored her mouth. Heat swirled through her.

  He released her and flipped on the light. “I’ve wanted to do that all night.” He stroked her throbbing lips. “I think those could be addicting.”

  Heart pounding and breathing as unsteady as her knees, Jillian leaned against the wall.

  “Can I hang up your coat?” he asked.

  Jillian removed her ski jacket, grateful for something to occupy her while she tried to regain her composure. “Thanks, but I’ll keep it. I’m not staying long.” She hugged the jacket to her like a combination security blanket and chastity belt as she followed Mark to the living room, a large room with plank walls, cinnamon-colored carpet, and perfectly coordinated furniture.

  “Sit down and I’ll light the fire.” Mark dropped his sport coat onto an oatmeal tweed chair opposite the matching sofa and strode to the stone and mortar fireplace. Squatting, he touched a match to the logs in the grate. The wood smoked then caught. “I’ll get the wine.”

  Jillian crowded against one arm of the sofa, her ski jacket and purse beside her. Flames crackled in the otherwise dark room as Mark uncorked and poured in the background. She needed to relax. Then she needed to drink her wine and get out of here.

  Mark returned with two wineglasses and handed her one. He shoved her purse and jacket out of the way and sat beside her, his arm draped along the back of the sofa above her shoulders.

  Jillian resisted the urge to move to the chair, where she should have sat in the first place. She took a deep breath of wood smoke tinged air, followed by a sip of a chardonnay way out of her normal price range. “This is excellent.”

  “It’s one of my favorites.”

  As they sat silently enjoying the wine and fire, Mark fingered her loose hair. Liquid heat pooled in her pelvis. The room seemed much too warm, but that had to be the fire. Or maybe because it had been too long since she’d been this close to a man.

  All the more reason she should leave. Now. She drained her wineglass and set it on the coffee table. “I should go.”

  Mark kissed her. Jillian tensed, but couldn’t resist the allure of his wonderful lips as they caressed hers. Only a few minutes longer and she’d leave.

  Then Mark changed the rules—and the kiss. He pressed her back into the cushions, his mouth devouring hers. He fondled her breast through her sweater dress and thin lace bra. Jillian’s nipples tightened, her breath caught, her skin tingled. Pleasure shut down her brain—until his fingers touched her bare stomach under her dress.

  She grabbed his hand, stilling it. “I can’t. I just met you.”

  “Do you want me to stop? Tell me to stop any time and I will. I promise.”

  She needed to say no. But his hand felt so good against her skin. “Don’t stop.”

  He kissed her again, his lips fanning a fire hotter than the one crackling in the fireplace. Her skin burned wherever he touched it. She helped him raise her sweater dress over her head and pull it off, her clothing too hot and confining.

  He unhooked and removed her bra then looked at her. “You’re so damn beautiful.” His lips closed over a nipple and sucked it deep into his mouth. Electricity shot from her breast down between her legs, and her sex throbbed. She arched into him.

  It still wasn’t enough. She needed to feel his skin against hers, needed his hands touching her everywhere, needed her hands on him. She started unbuttoning his shirt.

  He removed her hands and yanked the shirt, still buttoned, over his head, then sat up and moved her to straddle his lap.

  As he kissed her, she rubbed her bare breasts against his torso, his pronounced muscles and crisp chest hair impossibly erotic against her nipples. She rocked against him. Even through his jeans and her tights his erection felt like hot iron.

  “I want you so much.” He groaned the words, echoing how she felt.

  She was drowning in waves of heat and desire. Being with him like this felt so good, so right. Except it wasn’t. “I never do this so soon. Never.”

  “I know.” Mark raised his head, his features and voice tight. “Do you want to stop?”

  Certain he would stop if she asked, and that she’d never wanted to stop anything less, Jillian shook her head.

  His mouth captured hers again, and he half-carried her from the sofa onto the floor. He pulled off the rest of her clothes as she worked on his, frantic to touch all of him, to feel him inside her. She was struggling to remove his jeans, nearly crying with frustration at how her fingers fumbled, when he moved away. She reached to pull him back, but he wasn’t leaving, simply finishing the job himself.

  “Thank God I’ve got this.” He pulled a foil packet from the pocket of his jeans and ripped it open with his teeth. Then he was back on top of her. “I’m sorry, I can’t go slow. I need you too much.”

  She closed her hand around him, felt him shudder. He was huge, thick, and hot. Because of her.

  Her entire body was trembling with want and need, her heartbeat rioting out of control. “Not slow. Now.” She positioned him against her.

  He surged into her. “So good.” He thrust over and over.

  She met his urgent rhythm. Then the world exploded, engulfing her, shooting through every nerve with a force that left her limp.

  “Jillian.” Mark bucked hard then collapsed on top of her. He raised his head, his face only inches from hers, his eyes nearly black and impossibly warm. “So damn good.” He kissed her fiercely then collapsed again.

  * * * *

  Jillian lay underneath Mark, his heart and lungs keeping the same double-time rhythm as her own. So damn good. That’s how she felt. Spent, satisfied, and sensual.

  Mark swore softly. “I must be crushing you. I’m sorry.” He rolled off her.

  She forced her eyes open. “It’s okay.”

  “You’ve also had your back against that scratchy carpet. I didn’t even take you into the bedroom. And I had all the control of a teen boy.” He started to get up.

  Jillian circl
ed her arms around his neck. “I said it’s okay. Actually, it was a lot more than okay.”

  He searched her face, looking slightly anxious before his features relaxed. “It was, wasn’t it?” He tucked her securely against him. “I usually manage a little more finesse, but this time it overwhelmed me. You overwhelm me.” He kissed her again, gently. “Stay with me tonight? Please?” He stroked her arm and the outside of her breast, activating nerves that should have been comatose.

  “I shouldn’t.” Her words lacked even the slightest iota of conviction.

  “For a little while, then?” Mark rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him. “I can’t give you up yet.” He touched his lips to her neck, licked her jaw. She shivered.

  “Stay?” His hands skimmed over her body, making her simmer as his eyes coaxed her.

  She needed to be reasonable. She needed to say no. His lips touched hers again.

  She forgot all about being reasonable.

  Chapter 3

  Lumbering through the colorful crowd in front of the lodge as fast as possible in clunky ski boots, Jillian glanced at her watch. 12:24. She was usually neurotically prompt, but today she was more than twenty minutes late.

  Kristen was waiting inside the glass front door. “So?”

  “So why am I late? I’m sorry, but—”

  “So how was it? How was he? Are you seeing him again?”

  Jillian walked over to the window to buy a lift ticket. “Dinner was excellent. You should try Zenith.” For some reason it didn’t feel right to give details about last night, not even to Kristen. She took the ticket from the cashier and stuffed her Visa card and receipt into her jacket pocket.

  “Tell me more. About Mark, not the restaurant.”

  Jillian zipped her pocket shut and attached her lift ticket. “He’s a nice guy, and I had a nice time.”

  “Nice.”

  “Yes, nice. We’re having dinner tonight, but I’ll be home early.” Jillian put on her sunglasses then walked out of the lodge to the rack where she’d stashed her skis. Although the temperature was in the twenties, the bright sunlight warmed her face and melted puddles on the concrete. She grabbed the skis between the end pegs. “Now I’d like to go skiing.” She set her skis on the snow.

  “I can’t believe you used the words ‘like’ and ‘skiing’ in the same sentence,” Kristen said. “At least one that doesn’t also include ‘don’t’. I was shocked when you told me last night that you wanted to ski with me today.”

  Jillian positioned her right boot on her binding. “Stranger things have happened.”

  “Yeah, like you spending the night with a man you just met. I’ll get my skis.”

  * * * *

  “It’s amazing how much better you are,” Kristen said as they traversed the packed snow toward the lift to repeat the run they’d finished. “What happened?”

  After doing two green runs, they’d tried a blue one, which Jillian had not only handled, but enjoyed so much she’d suggested repeating it. “I took wide, slow turns until I got over being scared.”

  “That’s never worked before. Why this time?”

  “Because Mark skied right above me so I didn’t have to worry about being hit by another skier and could concentrate on skiing.”

  Kristen rested a hand on Jillian’s jacket sleeve. “I thought you took a class with Mark.”

  “He only took my class because he hadn’t skied since he broke his leg,” Jillian said. “He realized he didn’t need a class, so we skipped out early. It was no big deal.”

  “This man not only convinced you to spend the night with him but also got you over your fear of skiing? It’s a very big deal.”

  “It isn’t.” Jillian slipped into the lift line, wishing she’d lied and given credit to a super instructor. “For some reason, skiing clicked this time. I did the other because I’m on vacation. I’d appreciate you not announcing it to the world.”

  “Baloney,” Kristen said, but at least she’d lowered her voice. “You know how they say being drunk won’t make you do anything you don’t secretly want to do? Same thing with vacations. You’re so damn conservative about men that even deep down you don’t want a vacation fling. Which means you must think there’s a possible relationship there.”

  “I’ve only known him for one day.”

  “You still could have fallen for him.” Kristen punctuated her statement with her turquoise ski pole. “That you did it so fast means this could be major.”

  Jillian skied up beside a teenage snowboarder standing directly ahead of them in lift line. “Can I ride up with you?”

  The boy shrugged. “Whatever.”

  Jillian got onto the next double chair with him. Much as she loved Kristen, she could be a real pain sometimes.

  Because no matter what she thought, last night had been no big deal.

  * * * *

  Although Jillian repeated that mantra to herself all afternoon, she couldn’t help looking for Mark in case he’d changed his mind and decided to ski that afternoon. When they got back to their townhouse, she called him the instant Kristen left the living room to shower.

  “How was skiing?” he asked.

  “Terrific, and Kristen thinks you should be canonized.” Jillian sat on the leather sofa. “What did you do?”

  “Ran a couple errands, then came back and slept. I needed to recharge my energy for tonight.”

  His words made her body simmer. “Why don’t we ski before dinner? I’d like to try night skiing.” That was true, but Jillian’s primary motivation for suggesting it was her brain telling her she needed to slow things down.

  “Aren’t you exhausted?” Mark asked. “You got as little sleep as I did.”

  “I’m an ER doctor. I’m used to weird sleep schedules. Although I’ll need more tonight,” her brain made her add.

  “How about if I promise to let you sleep three hours?”

  “Three?” Her brain screamed that she needed to sleep all night, alone.

  “Four, then.”

  She closed her eyes. “You’ve got a deal.” Brains had no business dictating vacation conduct. “If you agree to go night skiing first.” She could still slow things down a little.

  “Okay. Afterwards we can use the hot tub at my place.”

  “That’s a good idea. You should be careful of your knee. That scar is nasty.” Mark had a scar on his abdomen and a couple on his legs, including an especially vicious one above his kneecap. Souvenirs from a car accident a few years ago that had resulted in his broken leg, he’d said, and presumably the death of his wife.

  “I appreciate your concern, but that wasn’t why I suggested the hot tub,” he said dryly. “Can you meet me in an hour?”

  “I thought I could cook something for dinner, and that won’t give me enough time to shop.”

  “How about we get takeout tonight?” His voice lowered and roughened. “Because I’m not sure I can stand waiting even an hour to see you again.”

  Right. A line, and an old one at that, but it still turned Jillian’s body to melting JELL-O. “An hour will be perfect. I’ll meet you in front of the lodge.”

  “If it’s no big deal, why are you blushing like that?” Kristen stood in the doorway, still dressed in ski clothes.

  Jillian stood up. “I need to get ready.”

  “I’d say if you were any more ready, you’d spontaneously combust.”

  Jillian glared at Kristen, then headed for her bedroom, her stride and bearing pure Katharine Hepburn.

  Except no one would have dared laugh so hysterically at one of Katharine’s exits.

  * * * *

  Mark hung up the phone then stood to one side of the picture window, out of bullet range. The sun had nearly set, the mountains jagged, imposing silhouettes against the orange-tinged gray sky. He’d always loved mountains and not only because their myriad of escape routes and hideouts had saved his ass more than once. Their enormity and qu
iet power made him feel an emotion he couldn’t name and rarely experienced. He’d say they touched his soul, if he were at all certain he had one.

  He closed the aluminum blinds, returned to the sofa, and sat down, his gun resting on his thigh. Who could have guessed a woman with frosty hair and icy eyes would have all that fire inside of her? Just hearing her voice had made him hard. Who would blame him if he wasn’t willing to give that up yet?

  His blasted conscience would, and contrary to popular belief, he did have one. Right now his conscience was lecturing that even though he was certain he wasn’t endangering Jillian, he should still feel guilty about convincing her to spend last night and tonight with him. He’d even stooped to telling dog stories, for God’s sake.

  Not that he’d forced her. But Jillian didn’t have a clue what he really was, would never have skied with him if she had. Even he wasn’t persuasive enough to convince an ER doctor dedicated to saving lives to be with a man who’d ended so many of them.

  Although Jillian wasn’t doing anything with him. She was doing it with Mark Jefferson, a New York City accountant, slightly dull but from a nice family, considerate, friendly, eminently respectable. An all-around good guy.

  He got up and strode to the kitchen then opened the refrigerator and dug around inside. So he was prepared to ignore his conscience and bring Jillian back here again tonight, despite knowing she’d be appalled at what he was and hurt when he disappeared without explanation. He pulled a bottle of mineral water from behind the chardonnay they’d never finished and slammed the refrigerator door. All so he could have a little more hot sex.

  He smiled grimly at his reflection in the stainless steel door. He truly was as big a bastard as people thought.

  * * * *

  The moon and stars sparkled in the crystal cold, illuminating shadowy peaks, onyx sky, and an occasional fat snowflake. In the lamplight below their chairlift, two silhouettes traversed glowing Styrofoam snow. Jillian half-expected to see an ice palace and snow queen. “Admit it, it’s beautiful.”

  “Beautiful.” Mark kissed her, his lips warm despite the chilly air.