Suite Embrace

by Anita Bunkley

  Following in Mark’s footsteps, she had hiked to Brookman Mill and tromped around outside the rustic landmark with him while listening to the story of the original settlers, now thought to be a ghostly presence that watched over the mill. Taking shelter inside, they had found a cozy, sun-warmed spot beneath a huge paned window to sit and talk, learning more about each other.

  Mark had told her about his childhood, his early years as a competitive skier and how close he had been with his mother. Though he was glad to be managing his own life now, Skylar sensed that he was infused with guilt over the professional and personal break he’d created with his mom, and remained conflicted about their relationship. He spoke openly and honestly about past romantic entanglements, of which there had been many, though none, he swore, had been serious enough to consider making a trip to the altar.

  “When I look back,” he had admitted, “that time in my life blends into one long blur of too much liquor, too little commitment and very little conversation. I never took the time to get to know any of the women I dated, and they really weren’t interested in knowing me. Life was one big party.”

  “Then life at Scenic Ridge must be a bore,” Skylar had commented.

  “Not at all,” he’d said, leaning over to give her a soft kiss. He’d held on to her chin with two fingers as he’d watched for her reaction. “This is exactly where I want to be, and with no one else but you.”

  She had removed his hand from her chin, slid it around her waist and turned around to settle her back against his chest. Sitting in his arms, she told him about her family; her childhood and what growing up in a seaside city like Tampa had been like; and how she’d thought her sister had lost her mind when she left Florida to live in the Colorado mountains. She had told him nearly everything about herself, except the fact that she was a multi-millionaire and that she was, most likely, unable to have children. However, she did admit that her career as a paralegal had begun to grow predictable and stifling and that working as a concierge was much more exciting.

  “You said there had been a special man in your life back in Tampa,” he had prompted.

  “Yes, there was,” Skylar had confessed, now ready to go on and tell Mark all about Lewis. “And as I told you, our relationship ended abruptly when I found out he was cheating on me. It hurt to know that the man I’d trusted with my heart could be unfaithful.”

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Mark had replied, massaging her back. “Is that why you wanted to leave Tampa? To forget about him?”

  “One of the reasons,” Skylar had replied.

  “Do you still love him?”

  She had shrugged off answering and slipped out of Mark’s arms, then, standing as she told him, “I’d rather not talk about love. Who knows what it is, what it means? I just know that I never want to feel as disappointed in a man as I did about Lewis.”

  “Fine,” Mark agreed, rising. “And as far as I’m concerned, you never will again.” He’d kissed her on her neck and held her close, as if infusing his promise into her soul. “Do you believe me?” he’d asked.

  Turning to face him, she’d told him, “I think I do.”

  “Good,” Mark had replied, a touch of relief in his voice. “And now that that is settled, we’d really better start back.”

  “Yes, it’s snowing pretty hard,” Skylar agreed.

  The wind had picked up and the snow flurries had turned into blinding sheets of white by the time they arrived at the trail leading back. Mark convinced her to follow him on skis down a hill that brought them to the service road, and setting off, she had been terrified. But she kept her focus on Mark and stayed with him, proudly congratulating herself when she reached the bottom of the hill, still upright. From there, they had plodded through intense snow, freezing wind and stinging sleet to make their way back to the lodge on foot.

  Now, Skylar placed her fingertips to the side of her mouth where Mark had planted a quick kiss before hurrying off to see what needed to be done before the full impact of the snowstorm hit. She grinned, reveling in the sensation of pleasure that slid through her body like warm honey. All she wanted to do was lie on her back and relive every moment of her day with Mark, to taste his kisses again, feel his embraces, hear his voice whispering in her ear. And, as much as she hated to admit it, she was helplessly under his spell and hoped to stay there forever.

  After a short rest, Skylar pushed herself off the bed and made it into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, she emerged from the shower, feeling refreshed and renewed. After drying off, she pulled on her bright yellow terrycloth robe, put on her fluffy Big Bird slippers. She went to her closet and took out a pair of red wool slacks, a black sweater and her black flats, preparing to go downstairs to dinner. Being snowbound was really not so bad. With everyone crowded into the dining rooms and the lounges, it would be like one big family party.

  Just as she was about to plug in her hair dryer, a clap of thunder split the air and everything went dark.

  “Damn!” she blurted out, shocked at having been plunged into sudden darkness so quickly. “This sucks,” she muttered, knotting the belt to her robe a bit tighter. In pitch-black darkness, Skylar groped her way from the bathroom into the kitchenette where she kept a flashlight next to the microwave oven. She flipped it on. Nothing happened.

  “Dead batteries,” she muttered, reaching into the cabinet over the stove to pull out the candles and matches she kept inside for just such an emergency. She quickly lit several candles. Moving through her suite she placed them in the bathroom, the bedroom and the sitting area, bathing the rooms in soft yellow light.

  “So much for drying my hair,” she remarked as she removed the towel and began to hand-dry her locks. With a touch of gel and a finger comb, she knew she could pull herself together enough to be presentable. She had to get dressed and downstairs right away, to be available for the guests, who were probably panicking about being in the dark. Deena was going to need all of her staff to be alert and on the job in order to deal with this situation.

  Just as Skylar was about to tackle her hair, there was a tapping sound at her door. Taking a candle with her she went to look through the peephole.

  “Mark!” she said aloud, blinking at the distorted image in the small round hole. He was holding several flashlights and still wearing his red parka.

  “Yes, it’s me,” he called back. “Thought I’d bring up an extra light, if you need it.”

  “Oh, right,” Skylar blew the words out on the edge of a sigh. Damn. She was a mess. Her hair was tangled and wet, her face was scrubbed bare of makeup and she was naked underneath her robe. “Just a minute,” she yelled back, adjusting her robe. No time to put on anything else. Cracking the door, she leaned into the narrow opening. “You didn’t have to bother,” she began.

  “No problem,” Mark replied, staring at her, taken by her natural beauty. She looked young, fresh and warm and he knew she was probably wearing very little under that robe. Their day together was still fresh in his mind, her kisses still lingering on his lips. Clamping down with his jaw, and determined not to show his reaction in a way that might prove embarrassing, he jammed his hands into the pockets of his parka and took a deep breath. “Paul said to check the window in your bathroom. He said the glass is loose and I need to tape it up. We’re expecting some pretty fierce winds tonight.”

  “Uh, fine,” Skylar said, pulling the door open wider. She touched her wet hair, suddenly embarrassed to be caught looking like a total wreck. “It has been rattling like crazy and I was getting worried about it cracking or falling out.”

  “Don’t want that to happen,” Mark assured her as he entered the room. He looked around. “Cozy, with the candles and all.”

  “It’s light,” Skylar replied matter of factly, watching as Mark unzipped his parka and hung it on the back of a chair. He had changed out of his wet ski clothing and was wearing faded jeans and a soft blue turtleneck. He reached down and removed a roll of duct tape from the inside poc
ket of his jacket. “This ought to do the job. No sense in taking a chance.”

  “Right,” Skylar agreed, beginning to feel a coil of heat gather between her thighs. In the shadowy dimness he resembled a dark silhouette that was both powerful and tender. She liked the way he moved, in the easy manner of a professional athlete who had total control of his body. A sudden fantasy spun into her mind: he was a mountain man, come to rescue her from a devastating snowstorm, and not sent by Paul to fix a rattling window. Here she was in a secluded mountain resort with a handsome international Olympic skier, who according to Deena was one of the most eligible bachelors in the world. Suddenly, Skylar wasn’t nearly as worried about Mark as she was about herself and the fact that she was wearing only a robe over her naked body.

  “Go ahead and check it out,” she told him, breaking out of her fantasy. “If the window might blow out, please fix it.”

  Skylar followed Mark into the bathroom, aware that every toiletry she owned was scattered across the counter and she hated for him to see her most private space in such a state, but there was nothing she could do.

  He went to the window, flashed his light over it and then tapped the glass. “It’s loose all right. Can’t leave it like this.” He turned around. “Uh…can you hold the flashlight on this while I tape it up?” Mark asked, extending the light to her. “I’m gonna need both hands.”

  “Sure, no problem. Give it to me.” She stepped closer, took the light and aimed it over his shoulder, toward the foggy window.

  “Good, this won’t take long,” Mark said, focusing on the job. He deftly unrolled one length of tape after another and secured them in a crisscross pattern over the glass, making sure he filled in all the gaps along the edges. “All finished,” he declared, suddenly turning around at the same time that Skylar stepped forward to examine his handiwork.

  Their bodies swung together.

  With a gasp, Skylar stiffened, but stood very still. Not too long ago, she’d told Mark that he would never make love to her, that he ought to find some other woman to fulfill his fantasy. She’d told Deena that she was not in the market for a man. And she’d told herself that she needed time to get over Lewis, to heal her heart and her badly bruised ego before getting caught up in any kind of romance. But now here she stood with her eyes locked to Mark’s, both confused and clear about what she wanted.

  Unable to help himself, Mark lowered his gaze and fastened his eyes on the swell of Skylar’s breasts, which were pressing prominently against the front of her robe. He wanted to reach out and trace a finger along the open edge of her collar, move his hand so close to her skin that he could feel the heat radiating from her body. But of course, he didn’t dare. He was not going to press his luck and risk offending her, even though he sensed that she would not deny him if he tried.

  All day, he had gone to great lengths to avoid pushing too hard, too fast. They had kissed, embraced and talked, but he had not let his hands stray to parts of her body that had not been exposed. He’d made that mistake when she’d come to his cabin and he wasn’t about to ask for more trouble.

  A delicate scent of apples came from her dark, damp hair, sending a jolt of desire straight to his groin and making him hard. He wanted to grab her, bury his face between her soft brown breasts, press his lips to nipples that he knew would be hard, firm and sweet. The fire she was igniting inside him was one that Mark knew could only be extinguished by claiming Skylar completely. Would he ever be able to do that? he wondered, closely watching her for any sign that he had a chance.

  From their very first encounter, she had let him know that she was a woman in total control of herself, and one not easily impressed. While other women had thrown themselves at him and made his conquests easy, this was a woman he would have to approach very carefully if he expected to earn her trust. He hadn’t had much practice with this kind of a pursuit, and the restraint it required was driving him mad, as well as initiating a blaze of anticipation that burned hotly in his belly.

  Skylar felt as if every nerve in her body had been lit with a match. Holding her breath, she let Mark run his gaze over her breasts, up to her lips, across her eyes and back down, without moving a muscle. She could easily pull back to avoid an encounter, but she didn’t. Shifting to one side, she silently dared him to make a move, and when he shifted in tandem with her, she sank back against the marble countertop and rested on the edge, parting her legs as she raised her face toward him.

  Mark didn’t hesitate to accept her dare, embracing her with an urgency that made Skylar go weak. Quickly, he positioned his hips between her legs, his lips against her neck. He sagged against her, giving up a deep moan of pleasure, inhaling her scent while steadying himself.

  Skylar wrapped both arms around Mark’s shoulders, pulled him more deeply into the split of her robe, and locked her bare thighs around his legs. Raising her hips, she pressed the pulsing heat between her thighs to the rough fabric of his jeans, pressing harder and harder, holding her breath while firming her grip on his shoulders.

  Lifting his face from her neck, Mark hooked his thumbs into the collar of her robe and slid it off her shoulders. The fabric settled in a soft pile at her back. Looking into the mirror behind Skylar he let his eyes travel the length of her spine, to the curve of her waist, down to the flare of her hips. Leaning back, he took in the full round shape of her breasts, standing erect with their dark brown nipples pointed lusciously at him. With a moan, he sought her lips and this time his kiss was solid and insistent, as if pushing her to admit that she wanted all that he could give.

  With a slight push, Skylar moved upward to sit fully on the cool black granite countertop, her legs clamping even tighter around Mark’s thighs.

  Mark moved his hand low, swept it softly across her stomach, and then between the open folds of her robe to find the silky skin of her inner thighs. Ever so gently, he massaged one leg, then the other, inching closer and closer to the mound of curly hair that lay between his touch and her fulfillment. Its dampness caught him off guard, causing a catch in his throat that made him cry out, and he wondered briefly if he had been the cause of her wetness or if she was still moist from her shower. Either way, her rocking motion was driving him wild, pushing him deeper and deeper into his mission to satisfy her. He wasn’t concerned about himself, though he could feel a rush of need vibrating deep in his stomach. Making Skylar happy was all that mattered now.

  When she sucked in a breath and opened wider to him, he slipped a finger into her core and stroked her wetness with a feathery touch, rocking back and forth, his lips still sheltered hers, his soul aflame with the joy of bringing her to fulfillment. When she cried out and shuddered convulsively against him, he finally broke off their kiss and eased his hand to rest against her thigh, feeling as if he had been to heaven and back and hoping she felt the same.

  I don’t want this to ever end, Skylar silently admitted, clinging to Mark, wishing he did not possess such a mesmerizing, hypnotizing effect on her. Breathing hard, she pressed her face into his soft sweater, knowing their encounter had to end at this point. She could not give him more. Not now.

  When he pulled back, she let him go with a kiss on his forehead and a sheepish, but grateful smile. He wasn’t going to ask for more than what she’d offered and she knew he would not push her.

  Chapter 16

  On Sunday morning, when Count Wilhelm Willard’s private airplane touched down at Aspen/Pitkin County airport, Virina settled her slim hips more firmly into the soft beige padding of the Italian leather seat and turned her profile to the window. Huge piles of snow lined the perimeter of the airport, rising high enough to create a frozen wall of packed ice between the busy landing strip and the area where small planes, like the one she was in, filled a parking lot.

  She studied the lines of mini jets which, in her opinion, resembled colorful birds that had been temporarily grounded and were poised to take off once more. The sky was vividly blue, free of clouds and sunlight bathed the snow-covered mount
ains in the distance. The setting was picture-postcard perfect, with its quaint buildings and tall Aspen trees rising majestically as a backdrop—just as she remembered.

  It had been five years since Virina had been to Aspen, and she was glad to be back, though she knew that the exclusive ski town was becoming alarmingly popular and much more accessible, luring all kinds of regular folk to the rustic enclave of the rich and famous. Hopefully, the better hotels, restaurants, shops and clubs were holding firmly to their rigid standards.

  “So, you said this is your first time in Aspen?” she asked Richard, who was sitting across from her, finishing his third Bloody Mary and looking out the window.

  “That’s right,” he confirmed, leaning forward in his seat. “And as I said, I’m really looking forward to enjoying myself even though I’ve got a lot of work to do. I’ve covered ski club reunions many times, and I know that things can get kind of crazy. The crowds, the social scene, the competitions. There’ll be a bunch of parties and celebrities all over the place, so I hope to get some great candid shots and impromptu interviews for Sports Challenge.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Virina concurred. “When celebrities come up here, they’re so much more relaxed and willing to talk to the media. As long as you don’t crowd them or make a pest of yourself, you’ll probably get much more from them than you think.” She reached for her heavy designer tote, slipped the copy of the magazine that she had been reading into the side pocket and then handed her empty champagne glass to Henri, the flight attendant. “Now, you told me that you ski,” Virina reminded Richard. “Are you good?”