by Julie Cannon
“What are you going to do?”
“About what?” Caroline asked.
“About Shannon.”
“What about her?”
Fran sighed. “Did you hit your head on your last ride or something? Are you going to try to find out what’s gotten into her…so to speak?” She winked at Caroline.
“There’s nothing to do. She’s here to try to win the championship, just like I am.”
“Bullshit. You two have some unfinished business you need to iron out.”
Caroline was getting frustrated. “It was ten years ago. Let it go. I have.”
Fran laid her hand over Caroline’s. “It doesn’t matter how long it’s been. The circumstance around the way she walked away from you is a big deal.”
Caroline signaled for the bill and used the action to end the conversation and get her thoughts together. Was Fran right? Did they have unfinished business? Why did she never hear from Shannon? Why did she finally talk to her after all this time? And did she have the guts to get the answers to those questions?
Chapter Nine
“The Downhill is a high-speed descent down the Nevis Range course—a grueling, rock-strewn ribbon of bike-smashing dirt that drops five hundred twenty-five meters in two point seven kilometers. It’s rider against the clock. And the mountain,” Fran recited behind her.
“What are you talking about?”
Fran waved a piece of paper at her. “The information about the race. I printed it off the Web. It says right here that the current course record is four minutes and forty-three seconds held by none other than your Shannon Roberts.”
“She’s not my anything,” Caroline said but was ignored.
“And just how far is five hundred twenty-five meters and two point seven kilometers? When is the U.S. going to get in line with the rest of the world and start using metric?”
Caroline shook her head and smiled at her. “Which answer do you want first? The one that is ‘seventeen hundred feet in a mile and a half,’ or the phrase ‘not in our lifetime’?” They were getting ready to go out to dinner and Caroline was just getting out of the shower.
“How do you like being one of the people competing at the highest level? ‘Famous names, heroes from the magazines, Olympic and world champions will be here as they compete for important world championship points,’” Fran read as she turned the page.
“Pretty damn important, so that means you get to buy dinner. Now get out of here so I can get dressed.” Caroline stuck her tongue out at her and slammed the bathroom door.
An hour later they sat at a table enjoying a glass of wine. The restaurant was crowded, but they chose a table outside to enjoy the evening and watch the people walk by.
“When do you defend?” Fran asked about her dissertation. Fran had been her proofreader and knew almost every word of her thesis. Caroline knew she had no idea what she was reading but wanted to help just the same.
“Three weeks after I get back.” The critical date loomed over her and would until it was over.
“How do you do this and study at the same time?” Fran waved her hand at the other racers.
“If I don’t know it by now, I don’t deserve to get my Ph.D. Supernova-driven interstellar turbulence is not something you cram for in a few days.”
“True,” Fran said. “Here, you’ve got to taste this.” She stabbed a piece of pasta and extended her fork across the table. Caroline took the bite, but before she could comment on the spicy taste Fran said, “There she is.”
“Who?” Caroline knew the answer to the question but asked it anyway.
“Who, hell? Shannon Roberts and she is coming this way. No, don’t look…”
“I wasn’t going to. I know what she looks like and I don’t care where she is.” Then why is my heart racing and my throat all of a sudden very dry?
“Bullshit. Oh man, she is hotter in real life than in her pictures. She’s looking this way, she’s—”
Caroline set her drink on the table a little harder than she intended. The wine spilled over the edge of the glass. “I don’t want a play-by-play commentary of her evening, Fran.” By the look on Fran’s face, she was up to something. When she motioned to Shannon to come to the table, Caroline knew she wasn’t going to like it.
“Too bad; here she comes.” Caroline took a deep breath in anticipation of seeing those piercing blue eyes again.
“Caroline? I don’t want to interrupt, but I wanted to congratulate you again and wish you luck this week.”
Shannon was standing, and since Caroline was still seated she had to look up past a pair of memorable breasts to meet her eyes. The dryness in her throat rapidly progressed to her mouth.
“Thank you. The same to you,” she babbled. Fran nudged her under the table and she remembered her manners. “Shannon Roberts, Fran Loming,” she said by way of introduction.
“Pleased to meet you, Shannon. I’ve heard so much about you,” Fran said sweetly.
It was Caroline’s turn to kick her under the table. Shannon’s eyes narrowed as she gave Fran more than a cursory once-over. She didn’t look happy.
“Thank you, Fran was it?” Shannon asked.
“Yes. Even though I’m a very big Caroline Davis fan, good luck to you as well.”
Caroline could have sworn her very straight friend was flirting with Shannon but knew it had to be her imagination. Shannon focused her attention back on her.
“I won’t keep you, Caroline. Have a nice evening.”
“Wow.” Fran sighed to Shannon’s back as she walked away. “She is so hot she sizzles. My God, Caroline, was she always like that? She practically left burn marks in the floor. Every woman was looking at her and a few are going after her.”
Caroline had not yet begun to breathe normally again, and Fran’s chatter about Shannon’s sexual magnetism didn’t help her scattered nerves.
“If anyone could make me turn the corner, it would be her.”
“Stop it,” Caroline snapped. Fran looked shocked at her outburst.
Caroline softened her voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bark at you. It’s just that this race is…the series…”
“Bullshit,” Fran said again. She had such a way with the English language. “There is something going on between you two, and the sooner you admit it and do something about it the better off you’ll be. Jesus, the way she looked at me, I thought she was going to knock me out of my chair and wipe the floor with me.”
“Fran, please.” She didn’t want to get into it again with her today. Fran was relentless, and she was just not up to it.
Shannon had walked out on her once and she had said nothing more than polite conversation until a week ago. She thought they had something special going on, but obviously it was just a high school fling. They had to jump through all kinds of hoops to finally talk to each other after her father caught them, but it had never been the same. Their conversations were forced and as much as she willed it, their connection was lost.
“Okay, CD,” Fran said. “I’ll leave it alone. At least for now. You’ve got to concentrate or you’ll fall down the two point seven meter mountain and break your freakin’ neck. Then I’d really have to spoon feed you.”
Caroline forced a laugh and couldn’t wait until the check came.
*
Shannon paced her room, oblivious to the food on the room service tray getting cold. She had gone to Ms. Farren’s for a quick bite to eat prior to venturing out to enjoy the sights, sounds, and beauties of the Scottish countryside.
She’d been keyed up lately, snapping at everyone and drinking way too much. Other times when she got like this she simply needed to blow off some steam in the arms of a woman on the dance floor and the bedroom floor. Or the living room floor, or the foyer floor, or any number of other hard surfaces that were handy.
Seeing Caroline and her date enjoying a romantic, chummy dinner was not what she needed tonight. She should have turned and walked right back out the door but inst
ead found herself standing beside their table. Caroline and Fran. The name gave her a sour taste in her mouth. They were obviously close. Body language said volumes more than words, and they definitely had spent more than superficial time together.
It felt like a fist hit her stomach as she imagined Fran touching Caroline, kissing her, stroking her to orgasm. She had no right to feel possessive about a woman she didn’t really know anymore. She had no right to her. Hell, she gave up that right ten years ago when she threw her under the bus that just so happened to have her father at the wheel and Dean Phillips in the co-pilot seat.
She had no idea why she still felt something for Caroline. Sure, she was drop-dead gorgeous, but so were the dozens of women she had slept with, and she barely remembered some of them. Maybe it was because of the way they had ended things. For years, she had dreams about Caroline. They were set in the places where they used to go together—the movies, the local diner, the back corner of the library. But mixed in were current places and people she knew. Caroline was happy, sad, furious, and teasing all in the same dream. Shannon felt like she was sneaking to or away from something and she had just gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She didn’t need Freud to tell her what that meant. More often than not, her dreams didn’t make any sense and she woke feeling tired and disjointed because she had spent the entire night trying to figure out what in the hell was going on.
Shannon grabbed her jacket, her wallet, and room key and closed the door firmly behind her. She needed to get out and do something. Anything to get her mind off Caroline. Caroline was a sexy, sensuous woman and there was no doubt in her mind what she and Fran were probably doing now.
“Fran, what kind of stupid nineteen forties name is that?” she asked the empty hall. “Francis? Francine? Francesca?” She tried the names out while waiting for the elevator.
Losing patience, she strode to the door marked Stairs and bounded them two at a time to the first floor. She had no specific destination in mind, but after exiting the revolving door she turned right and headed toward the bright lights of the expo area of the race. Workers were still setting up booths, tents, and vendor displays, so the place was lit up like midday. Shannon wandered around the grounds tripping twice and almost falling on some stray cable and electrical cords. She’d better be careful, she told herself. With her luck, tonight she’d trip, fall, and break her arm over some stupid orange cord no bigger around than a thick pencil.
“Shannon?” A vaguely familiar voice came from her left. “Shannon, I thought that was you. I knew you were going to be here this week. I was hoping we’d run into each other again.”
As the woman rambled Shannon finally recognized her. Gail. She couldn’t think of her last name, if she even knew it in the first place, but she did remember the night she had spent with the tall blonde.
“Gail, how have you been?” Shannon asked hoping she’d gotten the name right.
“Fine, but I’m much better now that you’re here.” She stepped closer, and Shannon saw Gail’s eyes drift over her body. The simmer reflecting back at her told Shannon that Gail knew what lay beneath her shorts and TKS emblazoned T-shirt.
Shannon’s body remembered Gail. Her pulse began to beat a little faster and that familiar tingle in her groin told her she was more than ready for some fun. It had been several weeks since the last time she had been with someone and that was about the maximum she could go without feeling edgy and cranky.
Maybe that was her problem with Caroline. The memories of her and Caroline together were igniting an already smoldering itch. Her body was craving attention and slamming into her past was like throwing fuel on a fire.
This had to stop. She had to quit thinking about Caroline, what they had and what it was like. It was over, done, history. This was the here and now. Caroline was after her trophy. Her spot atop the mountain.
Shannon had never really been all that competitive; her skill on the bike came naturally. If she put her mind to it, she would win and win big, but if not, she was okay with a second or an occasional third place finish. She had money of her own thanks to her lucrative endorsements. She owned her home in Denver and her cabin in Big Bear free and clear. She had several cars in her garage and the world at her fingertips.
She had no burning need to win the championship; it was just what she did—win races. She didn’t need to prove something to herself or anyone else. She knew how good she was and so did the rest of the mountain biking world.
Her fan base followed her around the globe. Where they got their money to hang out with a bunch of gear heads she had no idea, and frankly, didn’t care. They talked bikes, gear ratios, and with very little encouragement she could get them to talk dirty in her ear in the middle of the night.
“Shannon?”
The sound of her name brought her back to her present surroundings. Gail was standing right in front of her, and while Shannon took a stroll down memory lane, Gail had moved closer.
“Sorry, what did you say?”
Gail winked at her and leaned in. “I asked if you wanted to hook up again. I remember having a mind-bending good time.”
Gail was so close her breath tickled Shannon’s ear. She didn’t have to whisper; there was no one within twenty yards of them. An involuntary shudder ran down Shannon’s spine when Caroline’s face popped into her brain.
“Sure, why not? Let’s go.” Shannon grabbed Gail’s hand and pulled her toward the nearest dark corner. She had had it with Caroline Davis messing with her mind. She was rich, famous, and young. There was plenty of life to live and she’d be goddamned if she would continue to have her panties in a bunch over one woman. There were dozens, if not three times that many, for her to choose from. If any woman didn’t want her, then she didn’t want her. With Gail giggling loudly, Shannon stepped behind a delivery truck.
Chapter Ten
The next three days were a blur of photo ops, sponsor commitments, and practice runs. By the end of each day, Caroline was exhausted. The added stress of actually trying to win the race almost seemed secondary, but the reality was overwhelming.
Caroline had competed at this level for several years and one race was basically the same as the next. What made this race so special was the one before and the nine after. It wasn’t just one race that made the difference, even though one race could be the difference between standing on the top box of the winner’s stand and standing on the second or third box.
The world championship was the one thing Caroline wanted. What she had worked for. Sure, she had gone to school for what seemed like forever and all she had left was to spend three hours defending her thesis and she’d be able to put Ph.D. behind her name. But this was hers. No one could help her with this. Not her parents, who had packed up their travel trailer and cheered her on at every race in the country and most outside as well. Fran was her best friend, but all she could do was offer words of encouragement and change her bandages when she was injured. Her sponsors provided her the tools to win, but only she could do it.
The night before the first qualifying heats, Caroline was restless, too restless to sit in her room. Fran had tried to interest her in a game of cards or a movie on the hotel pay-per-view movie channel, even going so far as to suggest they watch a porn movie and have a private moment with themselves under the sheets.
“Are you nuts!” was Caroline’s response to that one. “I have to sit on a saddle as wide as pencil lead, barrel down a mountain at thirty miles an hour with nothing between me and Mother Earth, and you want me to fuck myself?”
“I just thought it would relax you. You’ve been so uptight the last few days.”
“I’ve been uptight because I have a race to win. A very big race.” Caroline emphasized the last few words. “I can’t race with my legs feeling like over-cooked spaghetti noodles and my clit so sensitive I can’t even walk. What are you thinking? Are you intentionally trying to sabotage me?”
Fran held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. So maybe
this isn’t a good time for a little one-on-one. I’ve never seen you so nervous. Yes, I know this is a very big race,” Fran repeated Caroline’s description, “but you never let these things get to you.”
Fran was right. Caroline was rarely nervous about much of anything. She always came fully prepared no matter if it were a mid-term, a job interview, or a race. If she hadn’t mastered it by now, there was nothing left to do.
Caroline knew what it was. Shannon was getting to her. Hell, Shannon had gotten to her the minute their eyes finally met after all these years. She was her nemesis on the mountain, her competitor for the championship, and the first girl she had freely given her heart to.
She had been able to maintain distance, both physically and emotionally, from Shannon for years. The only time she really thought about her was at these races. They crossed paths and occasionally stood beside each other on the winner’s stand, but had never said anything more than a casual hello. So why now?
“Let’s go for a walk,” Caroline said.
Fran glanced at the clock. “Now it’s your turn to be nuts. It’s after ten.”
“Come on; who cares? You’re my best friend, and as such, in charge of my emotional well-being. Since you think I need a distraction it’s your responsibility to come with me.” To Caroline it was as simple as that.
Fran grumbled something Caroline couldn’t decipher and was still squawking when they stepped out of the elevator. The lobby was busy with several people at the front desk, another three or four sitting on the couches by the unlit fireplace. Loud voices drifted from the bar area. Not everyone was tucked tightly into bed at this hour.
Caroline saw Shannon first. She frowned at the disheveled look she had acquired. Her hair looked like her hands had been in it all evening. Her clothes were askew and was that road rash on her knee? She frowned but changed her expression and disposition, and as Shannon walked toward them, she felt the heat rise in her chest. There, right there on her neck, just above her collar, was a hickey. An honest to God, high school hickey.