by Larissa Ione
He looked ecstatic, captivatingly alive in a way that transcended the stillness of the photo. Warm tingles whispered over her skin, and she had to drag her eyes away before she started fantasizing about things that could never be.
A platinum-haired bartender with a goatee slapped a napkin in front of her. “What can I get for you? This evening’s special is a Screaming Orgasm.”
Of course it was. She ordered one, figuring it would be the closest she’d get to the real thing tonight.
The bartender returned with her drink. She stirred the vodka, Kahlua and Irish cream blend as all around her people laughed and toasted their day on the slopes. In the corners, couples snuggled, secretive smiles on their faces. Depressing. Utterly depressing. One of those smiling women could have been her, and one of those men with his arm around his date’s shoulders could have been Sean.
Suppressing a sigh, she took a sip of her drink. Mmm, sweet and creamy and…
She nearly choked at the sight of Sean standing on the second level laughing with a woman who looked vaguely familiar. What was he still doing here? Not that she cared. But he didn’t waste time, did he? His bedpost was probably so notched it looked like chainsaw art.
She took another sip of her drink. A large sip. Then she tried not to stare at Sean’s smile as he propped one hip against the railing and spoke with the leggy woman, who kept touching him with not-so-subtle brushes and pats. A moment later she made her move with the most obvious of female signals announcing availability, the hair flip.
Nine-point-five for execution and presentation, a solid ten points for skankiness.
She had to give Sean credit, though. His body language, the way he drew away from the woman’s ever more intimate touches, indicated he wasn’t comfortable or interested. In fact, his gaze roamed the bar as though searching for something, and just as Robyn decided to move before he saw her, he did exactly that.
His eyes locked with hers, and a slow, one-sided smile tipped the corner of his made-for-sin mouth, stealing her breath and causing an unwelcome coil of carnal hunger to settle low in her belly. He straightened, his height and athletic build impressive in jeans and a black sweater. He spoke briefly with the woman and gestured to Robyn. Robyn stirred in her seat as the woman turned and gave her a weak smile. Why did she look so familiar?
Leaving the lady behind, Sean bounded down the stairs and crossed the floor, drawing every female eye in the establishment. The way he looked at Robyn, like she was the only woman on the planet, sent her pulse rate into orbit, and she had to put down her glass because her hand began to tremble.
God, she should not feel this way about a perfect stranger—especially not a perfect stranger who embodied everything she hated about ski culture and who had the potential to bask in a large spot of limelight.
“Hi,” he said in a low, intimate tone that brought to mind images of fireside snuggling and lazy morning lovemaking. Before she could utter a word, he bent and brushed his warm lips over her cheek. “Baby, where have you been?”
Confused, her skin tingling where his lips had caressed it, she glanced upstairs to where the woman watched with narrowed eyes. Ah. He needed help. And she did owe him for the martini…
What the heck.
Smiling wickedly, she slipped her hands under his sweater, caught two fingers in the belt loops on either side of his waist, and tugged him forward between her knees. His breath hitched in surprise and a brown eyebrow shot up, but he didn’t complain.
“Where have I been?” she purred. “Looking for you, of course.”
A second eyebrow joined the first. The man had very expressive eyebrows. “Seriously?”
“Um, no. Aren’t we playing ditch-the-stalker?”
His rumbling laughter vibrated his hips against her knees, and she had to stifle a gasp at the shock of desire that sizzled through her. “Any game that puts me between your legs is one I want to play.”
He moved closer until her thighs hugged his slim hips. Heat spread upward, through her pelvis, her chest, until even her breath scorched her throat. Then, before she could protest, his mouth came down on hers, softly, just barely, but enough to hint at the pleasure that mouth could give.
Disappointment and relief collided when he drew back and cast a furtive glance upstairs. The woman was gone. “Thanks. This is the third time I’ve had to dodge her talons.”
He made no move to extract himself from between her legs now that his stalker had been thwarted, and in fact, his hands rested intimately on her legs, his thumbs lightly stroking the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. Even through the barrier of her jeans, his touch made her pulse leap, her skin burn.
“I could get used to being in this position,” he murmured, and shifted his weight, creating a tantalizing pressure against the seam of her jeans with the fly of his.
Her throat went as dry as sawdust. She could get used to him being there, too.
No, she couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
With regret, she let go of him and cleared her parched throat. “What did you tell her?”
Her blatant change of subject seemed to amuse him, and he chuckled as he pulled up a bar stool. “That you’re my very jealous girlfriend.”
He had the jealous part right. She’d never been secure enough in any relationship to keep the green monster at bay. She did, however, have a sense of humor, so she smiled archly and reached for her glass. “And what would you have done if I hadn’t played along?” she teased.
“I have no idea. Gigi’s a man-seeking missile. She’d have reacquired her target in no time.”
“Gigi. Gigi Anderson?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Beats me what her current last name is. She’s a cougar. A divorcee looking for a man,” he added when she looked at him in confusion. “She’s been on the prowl for husband number three or four for a couple of months.”
Robyn gulped down her drink and signaled the bartender for another. Gigi had been one of her cruelest tormenters in high school, and though Robyn had thought she was prepared to see people like Gigi again, her old fears and insecurities had just breached the wall she’d believed to be impenetrable. Her anxiety made no sense, not now that she had done so well for herself. But Gigi had been ultra-vicious, ultra-popular, and—oh, God, no, was walking toward them.
Old habits died hard, and Robyn instinctively sought an escape route. The bathroom was too far away. The main door was behind Gigi. The chimneys were full of fire.
She was trapped.
And if that wasn’t enough, she looked as frayed as she felt after a day of flying. She hated that Sean had to see her in this state, but truly, if there was one person for whom she’d wanted to look her best, it was Gigi.
And Heidi. And Felicia. And about two hundred and ninety-seven others from her graduating class of three hundred.
“I’m sorry to interrupt.” Gigi stopped next to Robyn. “But I know I’ve seen you before. Have we met?”
Robyn’s throat closed up. Gigi, wearing a form-fitting designer ski suit that was obviously for show only, given that her hair and makeup appeared too perfect for her to have been skiing, was as beautiful and glamorous as ever, and suddenly Robyn felt like the homely troll people laughed at when they’d tripped her in the halls. Abruptly, Sean’s strong hand settled over hers, and his energy trickled through her skin all the way to her spine, which stiffened. Somehow, she found her voice.
“We went to high school together. I’m Robyn Montgomery.”
Gigi scowled, her eyes going blank as she tried to remember. “You’re coordinating the auction, right?” Robyn nodded, and Gigi shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t seem to remember—”
She broke off, her face splotched with crimson. For a moment she just stared, her mouth working silently for words. Finally, a smile trembled over what had to be collagen-enhanced lips.
“Oh. Robyn. How nice to see you looking so…good. I’d say you haven’t changed a bit, but…”
And how did one respond to that? R
obyn had dreamed of this moment for years, had planned down to the word what she would say and how she’d say it. Now none of the spiteful words came. Instead, she managed a polite, “Nice to see you, too.”
Gigi dropped her gaze to Robyn and Sean’s joined hands. The other woman’s smile still trembled, and were her hands doing the same? Gigi was definitely flustered, something that should have brought Robyn more than a little satisfaction, but strangely, didn’t.
“I-I suppose I’d better go. Will I see you at the reunion get-together on Thursday?”
“Definitely.”
“Great.” Gigi waggled her fingers at Sean in a goodbye gesture. “Ta-ta! Tell Toddy hello.”
Sean smirked. “Will do. He’d love to see you again.”
Gigi perked up and sauntered off, and Robyn slumped in relief. As soon as Gigi was out of earshot, Sean laughed.
“Todd’ll be dodging her for weeks.” He squeezed Robyn’s hand. “What was that about? I could have skied on the tension between you two.”
“It was nothing.” She took a large sip of the drink the bartender had just left and then groaned as a thought popped into her head. “You told her I was your girlfriend!”
“Yeah, so?”
“So, I hope you’re up to performing some boyfriend duties.”
His honey-colored eyes darkened to a smooth, liquid caramel that made her want to dive in. “Like what?” he asked, his voice deep and smoky and seductive.
Unable to resist the draw of his voice, she angled her body closer to his, delighted that his breath came a little faster. “Like being my date at the party Gigi mentioned.”
She braced for a refusal. Reunions weren’t fun for anyone, especially someone else’s. But instead of a horrified look and a ready excuse, Sean only grinned.
“If it means I can convince women like Gigi that you’re the hottest thing around, then yeah, I’m up for it.”
An unexpected thrill coursed through her at the compliment. “What do you mean? She’s gorgeous!”
“Did you get a good look? She’s been ridden hard and put away wet.” His gaze slid down Robyn’s body and back up in a very blatant, very appreciative appraisal that made her blood simmer. “She’s got nothing on you.”
The guy was smooth, she’d give him that. “You need to get your vision checked, but I’m not going to argue. Thank you. For the compliment and for being my reunion date.”
He rubbed his thumb over the suddenly hypersensitive skin of her wrist. “Negotiations aren’t over yet.”
“No?”
“No.”
He signaled the bartender and ordered a local microbrew. When he finished, he brought her hand to his mouth and pressed a lingering kiss into her palm, creating fluttery sensations in her belly. She couldn’t help but wonder what a kiss to a more intimate part of her body would do to her.
“I’ll go to the reunion if you’ll have dinner with me tomorrow.”
How had this gone from a simple drink in the bar to dating a guy she’d already decided wasn’t acceptable even for a fling? She didn’t want to go to dinner. She didn’t want to take him to the reunion even though the reactions she’d get would be priceless. She wanted nothing to do with him. She didn’t need another Damon.
But she did need a date, and no doubt Gigi was right now phoning the old gang to report the fact that Robyn the Troll had caught a hottie. There was no way she could go to the reunion without Sean now.
“Fine. But this is for show only. Nothing is going to happen between us. Nothing. Got it?”
He smiled. “Sure.”
“You’re humoring me.”
The bartender brought his bottle of beer, and he took a swig. “Yep.”
“Why?”
“Because,” he said in a low, husky voice, “I want to kiss you again. And I think you want it, too.” He reached out and touched the backs of his fingers to her cheek, and it took all she had not to close her eyes and lean into his light caress. “And if that leads to something else, then, well, we’ll see.”
She had no idea what to say because God help her, she wanted to kiss him and more just like he said, so she closed her shaky hands around her glass and drained it.
And here, she’d thought things couldn’t possibly get worse.
Sean watched Robyn stir the contents of her third Screaming Orgasm and wondered why she’d shut down like an overloaded chair lift. She’d agreed to move to a more comfortable seat, and now she just sat there, her expression contemplative and distant.
They were sitting in an intimate upstairs corner near a snow-flocked window, in a curved booth softly lit by flickering candles on the table and crystal sconces on the walls. He lounged back, one leg propped up, his knee touching hers. She, on the other hand, sat stiffly, legs together, spine straight, much like she had when Gigi approached earlier.
And what was that all about? Had they been rivals for boys in high school? His sisters had had similar rivalries, so the theory made sense. What didn’t make sense was why she was still so on edge.
“Is everything okay?”
She raised her gaze from her drink and let out a weary sigh. “I know who you are.”
“As in…?” His fingers itched to play with the glossy fox-red strands of hair that brushed her shoulders as she shook her head, but he settled for peeling the label off his beer bottle.
“As in, was it a bronze or silver medal?”
“Ah, that.” Disappointed that she was aware of his identity, his gaze drifted to the far wall, where an enlarged photo of him accepting his Olympic medal hung in a place of prominence. The photo was one of many the resort owners had scattered about after they’d hired him as a patroller.
You don’t mind if we use the fact that we have an Olympian in our employ for promotion, right? the owners had asked—two weeks after they’d hung the pictures.
“Silver. Missed gold by two-hundredths of a second.” Baffled by her almost imperceptible nod and devastated expression, he shifted a little closer to her. “I don’t get it. Why doesn’t that make you want to jump my bones?”
A burst of laughter brightened her eyes and chased away his concern. “How did they get the medal over your swollen head?”
He smiled and shook his head. “No, I mean, it’s just—” He took a deep breath and tried to figure out how to dig himself and his swollen head out of this. “Usually that’s the only reason women want me.” And in the past, he’d played the sports-hero card freely and often.
Her gaze roved unhurriedly over him, and when her eyes met his, the heat in them made his breath hitch. “Oh, I doubt that.”
Her four softly spoken words sent his heart rate into overdrive. “Is the athlete thing a problem for you?”
The heat in her eyes chilled. “Only if I want to like you.”
“I’m not following.” But he had to admit, it was an interesting twist. Here was a woman who didn’t want him because of who he was. His opinion of her ramped up several notches.
Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the windows. Robyn studied the snow slapping against the glass, and just as he began to wonder if she would speak, she turned to him.
“I’ve been in and out of a relationship that was all about appearances and public life. I hated it. Hated being the nameless girl on the arm of the star. I don’t want to do that again.” She drew little circles on the table with a French manicured nail as she spoke. “I know I’ll only be here a couple of weeks, but that just makes things worse. I don’t want to go home and then hear about you on the news or see you in commercials.”
That he understood. Three years ago he’d dated a supermodel, and after a nasty breakup, her digitally enhanced face had mocked him from magazines, television, billboards…she’d been everywhere.
“Then I have good news,” he said. “I don’t ski competitively anymore, and no one has asked me to push a product in more than a year.”
He saw no point in telling her about the sports-announcer gig since it might be a one-time
thing. He’d met with his new boss this evening at the network affiliate’s local TV studio, and although the guy seemed sure Sean would be hired on a permanent basis, he got a sleazy vibe from the man and didn’t trust a word.
Either she was amazingly intuitive, or his tone had betrayed his lingering bitterness, because her voice softened. “Why don’t you ski competitively anymore?”
He tipped his beer bottle to his lips, more to give himself a moment than because he was thirsty. After several swallows, his throat didn’t feel so tight. “Took a bad fall. Broke my leg and a couple of ribs.”
“During practice?”
“Yeah.” No, but only his family and Todd knew the truth. He took her hand in his and caressed her silky smooth palm with his fingers. “My turn. You know all about me, but I don’t know anything but your name.”
She shrugged and looked down at his hand as though trying to decide whether or not to allow his touch. “Not much to tell. I grew up here, went to college in New York, and until an hour ago I was the music director at a Chicago radio station.”
“An hour ago? What happened?”
“I got into it with my boss.” She slipped him a sideways glance. “What are you doing here, anyway? You couldn’t have been trapped by Gigi for that long.”
He gave a theatrical shudder that wasn’t entirely feigned. “God, no. I had a meeting in town earlier. I came back to drop off some supplies for the patrol office. When I tried to leave, I got mobbed by Gigi and a bunch of her minions who wanted autographs—”
He broke off and gave himself a mental kick in the ass for mentioning the autograph thing. Nothing like reminding her of the very reason she didn’t want to jump his bones.
Robyn rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, and he pulled a ragged breath into his lungs. He wanted those lips on his so badly he could do nothing but stare at her mouth until she finally heaved a deep sigh.