“My ridiculous daughter.”
“Your daughter? She must be in her early twenties. You look too young to have a daughter that age.”
“Well,” Blackwell said as Cutter tried to unlock their boots. “Thank you. How unusually kind of you. Even though I’ve likely just broken several limbs, I do try to take care of myself—as hard as that might be for you to believe right now.”
“Look, Barbara,” he said. “Since you nearly just took my life, you now officially must let me buy you a drink, if only to make amends. Meet me at the lodge tonight. Don’t say no. It’s just for one drink.”
“Oh, look—the oldest line in the book! And what if I’m married? Have you considered that?”
“Are you?”
“Actually, I’m not.”
“Divorced?”
“I hardly share my personal life with strangers.”
“So, you’re divorced. Been through one myself. I didn’t like it when I caught my wife cheating on me.”
Which is exactly what Charles had done to Blackwell. When Marcus said that to her, I saw something shift in her expression. For an instant, she seemed to assess him with new eyes.
“Just one drink—I promise,” he said. “I’m here alone. My own children are with their mother, and it would be nice to spend some time with someone interesting for once.”
“How do you know if I’m interesting? What if I’m dull and disappointing? What if I’m this kind of horror show off the slopes?”
“Yeah, I kind of doubt that.”
“Well, at least you’re intuitive,” she said.
“I read people quickly.”
“Is that so?”
“Actually, it is. I wouldn’t have asked you for that drink if I thought it was going to be a waste of my time. Not in me.”
“Shit is totes getting real,” Daniella said beneath her breath.
“There,” Brock said as he released whatever parts of their boots were hooked together. “You’re free.”
Then, in one swift, fluid motion, Marcus swept one foot beneath him, pressed down on it, and lifted Blackwell off of his body as he stood. He placed her gently in front of him with the sort of ease that suggested to me that this man was nothing if not muscular and fit.
“He’s Iron Man,” Alexa said.
“No shit,” Daniella said. “Did you see that? I know Mom weighs next to nothing, but still. It was as if she was weightless. Good God.”
“Are you all right?” Marcus asked her as Cutter brought over their skis and Brock delivered their poles and goggles. “Nothing sprained or broken?”
“I’m as healthy as Chanel’s bottom line.”
“You do have a way with words,” he said.
“You have no idea how I wield my words, Mr. Koch.”
“Please, since you have, after all, been on top of me, at the very least call me by my first name. In case you’ve forgotten, it’s Marcus.”
“Fine, then—Marcus. Thank you for cushioning my fall.”
“Is that what you call it?” He held up a hand before she spoke. “I’m joking,” he said. “I’m just glad I was there to help stop you, because you really could have hurt yourself. It’s still a long way to the bottom of the mountain, so be careful, OK?”
“After that scene, I’ll walk down this damned mountain if I have to.”
“And yet why do I feel as if you’re about to put on those skis again, and give it another go? I don’t know you, Barbara, but I can already tell that you’re no quitter. So, see you at the bar in the lodge at eight?”
“I never agreed to that.”
“You’ll be there,” he said as he lowered his goggles over his eyes. “I know you will. You have to come. We both know it.”
“How utterly confident of you.”
“That’s the thing,” he said. “I am confident, but not arrogant. I just want to share a drink with you—and after that blunder, you owe me that. So, I’ll see you tonight.”
“You must know that I am not to be had for the mere price of a mountain collision!” she said.
But when she said that, Marcus Koch had already swept away from us. Watching him ski down the slope, it was clear to me that he was an expert skier and had only chosen this slope in hopes of finding another opportunity to interact with Blackwell. He couldn’t have known at the time how that was going to turn out, but their mountain mayhem was what it was—and being the romantic at heart that I was, I had to wonder if it had happened for a reason.
After we got down the mountain and back to the house, would Blackwell agree to going to the lodge’s bar for a drink?
With her, one never knew.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“AFTER TACKLING THE same slope three times, Blackwell eventually became nothing short of the queen of the bunny slopes,” I told Alex once we were alone in our bedroom, lying next to each other on our king-sized bed—exhausted after a day of skiing.
“I wish you could have seen it,” I added as I snuggled next to him and put my head on his chest. We’d just returned to the house and peeled off our ski suits and now were wearing nothing but our underwear. I was in my bra and panties, and Alex was in nothing more than his boxer shorts. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and held me close to him.
“After hearing that story, I kind of regret going off on my own,” he said. “But I wanted to challenge myself. I wanted to take on that mountain in ways that would lift the stress of the past year from me. I took the most difficult trail I could find, I scored, and I feel more relaxed because of it. We really needed to get away, Jen.”
“We did,” I said. “And I’m glad that you had fun. You needed to have that kind of release. This past year has been ridiculous.”
“To say the least, but all of that’s behind us now.” He turned and kissed me on the lips, which my body immediately responded to. “I did miss you, though.”
“I missed you, too. But now that Blackwell knows she can handle that slope on her own, you and I can ski together tomorrow—if there’s time. Today, it was all about supporting Blackwell—even if we did fail to keep her from falling head-over-skis into that man’s arms.”
“And by the way, that’s a story for the ages,” Alex said. “I wish I could have been there to see it. Did either of the girls catch it on their SlimPhones?”
“No way—all of us were way too transfixed. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion. You wouldn’t have believed it, Alex. It was as surreal as it was hilarious.”
“Do you think she’ll agree to go to the lodge tonight, knowing that he’ll be there?”
“No idea. But if she resists, I plan on pressuring her into going. Because there’s no question that sparks flew between them. When Blackwell was lying on top of him—utterly unable to extricate herself from him—he was flirting with her in ways that she tried to deflect, but he outsmarted her at every turn.”
“I have a hard time imagining someone outsmarting her...”
“Well, imagine it. This Marcus guy was so on point, he totally took on Blackwell and won. As ridiculous as she was being, he just took it all in stride, and allowed her to be herself. She tried to throw him off his game, but every time she did so, he not only one-upped her, but it was clear to all of us that he was getting a kick out of doing so.”
“It’s going to take a special man to match Blackwell,” Alex said.
“I think we might have found him.”
“And I wonder how she feels about that? It’s just been two years since she divorced Charles. And that divorce was ugly. Is two years enough for her to begin to trust another man again—if that’s even what she wants? Because I’m not sure that she ever wants to be in a relationship again. She loved Charles. I think that what he did to her scarred her in ways that none of us will ever know.” And then he shrugged. “But what do I know? I could be wrong—in fact, I hope that I am. Because I’d love to see Blackwell find a new man capable of maintaining a solid relationship. I don’t want to see her go throug
h the end of her life alone.”
“Here’s what I haven’t told you. Since Blackwell had no choice but to talk to him when she was on top of him and attached to him, he brought up his own divorce. Apparently, he left his wife because she cheated on him. And when I heard him say that, I swear that I saw Blackwell’s face soften, even if it was only for an instant, because that’s what Charles did to her.”
“In fact, it was the very reason she divorced his ass.”
“Exactly. And Marcus divorced his wife for the same reason. Blackwell must be processing that now. Is he a man of principle? It certainly looks as if he is, and that alone could sway her to at least meet him for a drink.”
“Look, anyone who knows Blackwell knows that if anything is going to come of this, she’s going to wade into it very slowly. Her heart is so guarded right now that, if he does want to pursue her, it’s going to take more than a few days to win her over. In fact, knowing her the way that I do, I’d say that it will take several months—if not a good year. Anyone who thinks otherwise is fooling themselves.”
I swung my body around and straddled him. With my hands against his lightly hairy pecs, I looked down at him. “Enough of that for now. Where do you want to eat tonight? At the lodge? Or at one of the restaurants in town?”
“Why not check out the lodge? If we arrived at six, we could have dinner, and then maybe go to the bar, where Blackwell could meet up with Marcus. If she wants to.”
“I plan on convincing her to.”
“You know,” he said as he gripped my ass. “Six o’clock is four hours away...”
“So, it is,” I said, reaching behind me so I could grasp his cock, which was rock hard and throbbing beneath his underwear.
“Want to fool around, Mrs. Wenn?” he asked.
“Is that even a question, Mr. Wenn? Why don’t you have your way with me? Right here, right now. Then, we can go into the shower, and you can take me there as well. That is, of course, if you have that kind of stamina left within you after your time on the slopes...”
The moment I said that, Alex lifted me straight off him, swept me around so that I was lying on my back, and slid down the length of my body. Then, he removed my panties, tossed them aside, and buried his face between my legs. His tongue probed so deeply within me, that I let out a moan of ecstasy and arched my back as his stubble brushed against my clit.
Wanting more, I extended my legs and hooked them around the back of his head, thus driving his mouth firmly against my sex, which I ground against him.
“You want to fuck me, don’t you?” I said.
He looked up at me with a gleam in his eyes. “We’re talking dirty now?”
“Looking at you right now? I want to get filthy.”
“Careful what you wish for,” he said.
“Says the man who hasn’t even entered me yet...”
But when he did, Alex thrust into me so hard that my breath caught in my throat. I reached out and grasped the bedspread as he started to pound into me in ways that were just aggressive enough for me to enjoy. He swept my hair away from my face and leaned down to kiss me, and when he did, I could taste myself on his tongue. With his eyes never leaving mine, he removed my bra, dipped his head to one of my nipples, and bit down on it, sending a river of chills throughout my body—which I made every effort not to show to him. This was now a game between us—it was something we did often—and for me, it was so game on.
“Is that all you’ve got?” I asked.
“I think you know better.”
“Then fuck me like you mean it.”
“Like this?”
He pulsed even harder into me, but through it all—and as close as I came to coming on several occasions—I nevertheless challenged myself not to come while also taunting him.
“You really must be tired,” I said as he whipped me onto my side, and came up behind me. Then, he lifted my right leg high into the air and entered me. “I can almost feel your fatigue.”
“Is that so?”
I tried to keep a straight face when I said that, but it was nearly impossible. “In fact it is. Perhaps you need a nap.”
And when I said that, both of us started to laugh.
“Oh, how I love you!” I said.
“You’re a filthy minx,” he said.
“I’m an alley cat!”
“You’re a horny one, that’s for sure.”
“Finish me off, already!” I screamed.
“You’re so going to get it now,” he said. “Especially after that little performance of yours.”
“Just keep knocking those jingle bells right against me, stud.”
“You did not just say that...”
“Yes, I did. It’s nearly Christmas. And this girl wants her presents to come early. So, bang me, Santa!”
And Alex did just that. For the next thirty minutes, we tossed ourselves around the bed in a whole host of positions—both old and new. There were points in our lovemaking when I wanted to ask, “And where did you learn that from?” But he was being so relentless with me—and I was too breathless to talk because of it. And when he finally brought me to climax, which was so earth-shatteringly loud, I hoped to God that no one in this mammoth mother of a house heard me.
Or him, for that matter. Because when Alex came?
He was just as loud as me.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LATER THAT NIGHT, FOR dinner, we decided to go to the Shipyard Brewhaus restaurant, which was located inside the lodge. It was a bit rustic for Blackwell’s taste, but it actually turned out to be surprisingly good—the service was terrific, the drinks were on point, and in the end, everyone was happy.
But what came after dinner was questionable at best.
When all of us moved into the Widowmaker Lounge, which was packed with a mixed group of people, it quickly became clear to me and to all of the women in our group that we were completely overdressed.
As I looked around the space, I saw that most people were wearing jeans and casual sweaters—both men and women. Some of the older women had made an effort to step it up a notch, but only a few of them. So, if it didn’t look as if we had hailed straight from the city before, it certainly did now.
“Why are there garish neon signs on the walls hawking something called ‘Bud Light’?” Blackwell said. “And why do they call this place the ‘Widowmaker Lounge,’ of all things? Are husbands about to die in front of me, leaving stricken widows in their wake? Where are we? Who am I? How did I get here? What in the hell kind of a bar is this?”
“Just relax,” I said. “I’m sure they’ll pour you a perfect martini. This might not be what you’re used to in New York, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t let down your bob and have some fun for one night. So, buck up, Babs—because we are going to have some fun.”
“Don’t ever call me ‘Babs’ again.”
“How about if I get the first round?” Cutter asked. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Why are you so nice?” Daniella asked. “Why do you continue to drop your lure in front of me in ways that make me want to take a bite?”
This time, without flinching, Cutter just looked at her. “Let me see if I’ve got this right?” he said. “Martini? No olives, but with a twist?”
“You see? You even know my drink.”
“It’s not as if I don’t pay attention to you, Daniella,” he said to her with a smile. Then, he took everyone else’s order, and turned away from us and went to the bar.
“And what am I to make of that?!” Daniella said.
“Zip,” Blackwell said. “Trust me. He’s off-limits.”
“And trust me when I say that somebody has just spotted you,” I said in a low voice to Blackwell.
“Oh, Christ. Hell has apparently come to roost in Christmastown. I’m assuming you mean Marcus? That is the reason all of you dragged me here. Where is he?”
“At the other end of the room, coming our way. And, oh my—does he ever look good. You couldn’t really
see his physique in his ski suit, but you can pretty much see all of him now. And holy shit. He’s got to be a total fitness freak. Look at that body of his. And how well he’s dressed. You’ve got to give it to him, Barbara—that has to impress even you.”
“Fine,” she said as she looked over at him. “He is handsome. As for what he’s wearing, I approve—especially for this joint. Prada jeans. A fitted, black Dior Homme cashmere turtleneck sweater. And black boots—also by Prada. And then there’s his watch, which I have to say is the real standout. I recognize it immediately. Impressive.”
“You can see his watch from here?”
“I can see everything from here.”
“What is it?”
“A Jaeger-LeCoultre Master Control Grand Tourbillon surrounded by sapphires and twenty carats of beveled diamonds, which might sound feminine—but not when you see it in person. It’s absolutely masculine. And just so you know, it costs five hundred grand. The fund he hedges must be successful.”
“Well, that should perk up your nips,” Daniella said. “Or moisten your panties. Either way, if you don’t want him, I’ll totally take him. He’s totes working that hot daddy look. Just look at that strong jawline of his, not to mention his thick head of dark hair, which is just starting to gray at the temples. If you don’t want to get into the sack with that piece of man meat, Mom, I sure as hell will.”
“Like hell you will—he’s practically your father’s age.”
“Your point? That just means that he’s likely been through enough women to have mad skills in the bedroom. Think about that for a moment, Mommie Dearest—and what it could mean for you...”
“Quiet—he’s almost upon us.”
“Hello,” Marcus said as he approached us. He was holding in his left hand what looked like a glass of Scotch on the rocks, and he looked directly at Blackwell when he said, “I’m glad that you decided to come.”
“Well,” she said. “It’s not as if I had a choice. I was practically abducted.”
“No other reason?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Doesn’t matter. You look beautiful, Barbara. You’ve brought Manhattan to Maine.”
Holiday: Annihilate Him, #4 Page 9