by Larissa Ione
“Why didn’t you let him explain?”
Robyn set down her mug, wrapping her fingers around it for warmth. “Explain what? That I don’t turn him on? That I don’t fawn all over his Olympic medal enough?”
“From what you’ve said, I doubt any of those things are an issue.” Karen hid a smile in her cup. “Especially the turning-on part.”
Robyn knew that, knew she wasn’t being fair. There was no doubt in her mind that he’d been as turned on as she’d been. She’d felt the evidence in her hand and between her legs. And the Olympic medal thing definitely wasn’t a concern. He hadn’t brought up his sports career and fame once.
Then again, maybe he expected her to talk about it, and when she didn’t…
“Speak of the devil?”
Robyn’s head whipped around, and she searched the crowded pub for a tall hunk in a red jacket. “Where?”
“Outside.”
She turned to the window and saw him. There, standing by the quad lift in his ski patrol gear, ruffling the hair of a small red-headed boy. Sean’s sunglasses hid his eyes, but even from this distance, the dazzling smile on his face mesmerized her and made feathery wings flit around inside her belly. She couldn’t decide if she should be happy to see him smiling or upset that he wasn’t as miserable as she was.
Then the boy skied away, and Sean’s smile faded. He speared his hand through his streaky brown and blond hair and threw his head back to the sunny sky. So maybe he was as miserable as she had been since she’d stepped out of his truck and slammed the door. Somehow the knowledge didn’t make her feel any better.
Last night had been so perfect at first, the environment relaxed, the conversation never awkward. And when he’d kissed her on the stairs, she’d allowed all her personal insecurities and fears about his past and future to disappear so she could enjoy the moment. She hadn’t intended for things to go as far as they had—or would have. But once his hands were on her, she’d given in to the attraction she’d felt since she’d first seen him sitting on the bar stool in the Moosehead, looking like her high school fantasy come alive.
What a colossal mistake.
Outside, Sean tugged on his glove and headed toward another patroller who beckoned him from near a lift where a crowd had gathered around several camera crews. The resort had always been a popular hangout for the paparazzi and television reporters, but since she’d arrived it seemed she couldn’t turn around without running into some form of media. Fortunately, she’d been spared another run-in with Damon and his station team.
Sean seemed to take the photographers in stride, flashing them smiles and waves as he skied past. With a sigh she wasn’t sure signaled weariness or desire, she turned back to Karen, who eyed her with concern.
“You fell for him, didn’t you?”
“Of course not,” Robyn scoffed, reaching for a stuffed potato skin a server had delivered while she’d been pining for Sean. She was going to have to live on celery and carrot sticks for a month after this vacation. “I’ve known him, what? Two days?”
“Time isn’t an issue when it comes to love.”
Robyn snorted. Her friend was such a romantic. “Lust, not love. I’ll admit there’s a fair amount of the former involved, but the latter? Get real. I’m not making that mistake again.”
“What mistake? You were never in love with Damon.” Karen froze as she lifted her mug to her mouth. “Were you?”
Still holding the uneaten potato skin, Robyn flopped back in her seat. She thought she’d loved Damon at one time, but now she realized she’d been in love with the idea of love. But even though she hadn’t loved him, not really, he’d still hurt her. Over and over…and she’d let him, which made the pain even worse. The self-inflicted kind always hurt the most.
“I wasn’t in love with him. But I did care for him. So seeing him all over the place, on TV and on billboards…it just rubs salt in the wound. Can you imagine how magnified that pain would be if I fell for Sean and he ended up famous again?”
“But you said he’d given up on that.”
Robyn’s gaze drifted to the far wall, where a glossy poster of a much younger Sean standing on a medalist podium hung in a position of prominence. His expression, self-assured and ecstatic, made her gut do a slow, pleasant roll even now.
Lord, she had it bad.
She scooped a dab of sour cream off her potato skin and sucked it off her finger. “He has.”
“Then you’re seeing trouble where there is none.”
“You don’t think him breaking things off in the middle of some pretty serious action isn’t trouble?”
“You didn’t give him a chance to explain.”
Robyn glared at her friend. “Whose side are you on?”
As irritated as Robyn was, she couldn’t come close to matching the look Karen seared her with. “Yours. But come on. I know you. You get freaked out and start inventing worst-case scenarios before you get all the facts.”
“So what do you think his excuse is?”
Shrugging, Karen took a sip of cocoa. “I dunno. Maybe he’s impotent.”
Robyn thought about how hard he’d been when she wrapped her hand around him. “No, definitely not impotent.”
“Do you think he’s got some sort of premature ejaculation thing going on?”
She eyed Karen skeptically. “Premature ejaculation?”
Strangled coughs exploded around her, and she cast a sheepish glance at the four guys at the next table. She turned back and lowered her voice. “No way.”
Absolutely not. She recalled how he’d held onto his control while she lost hers, and she had to force herself to ignore the dull ache of desire the memory sparked. But then, right afterward, she’d barely touched him and he jerked away…
She pursed her lips and slid Karen a hesitant glance. “Really? You think?”
“I have no idea,” Karen said, finally reaching for a potato skin. “Why don’t you just ask?”
“Oh. Sure. Guys love it when you come right out and ask if they sell the wine before its time.”
“Stop being difficult. I’m sure he has a logical excuse.” She jerked her thumb at the four guys from earlier, who were ogling a group of women who’d just walked through the door. “I mean, what guy would turn down a chance to have sex without a really good reason? Give the man a chance to explain.”
Robyn considered her friend’s words. She had, after all, cut him off when he tried to do just that. It was habit. Guys had shot her down years ago because of her weight, so she’d become accustomed to closing up before they could give her the “it’s not you, it’s me” pity speech. She’d responded out of instinct last night. Instinct and hurt and humiliation. Her face still burned when she thought about how easily her body had succumbed to a little pelvic grinding.
Still, something told her Sean hadn’t deserved what she’d done, that he was different from other guys despite the fact that he could have any woman he wanted and probably had had every woman he wanted. Yet this man who jumped out of helicopters into mountainside deathtraps had chosen to pursue her even though her idea of taking risks was to ski and chew gum at the same time.
So had that been the reason he’d broken things off so suddenly? She hadn’t proved exciting enough? Damon had said something similar once, that she was too “reserved”.
Well, no more. For once, she needed to let go. Throw caution to the wind. Sean had said he was finished with competitive skiing and groupies and with being in the spotlight. He said he wanted her. So for once in her life, she was going to trust that and take a risk. She was going to take care of her reunion and job troubles and have her fling.
For the first time ever, the view from the summit, the sight of the sun glistening off of hoar-frosted fir that rose out of unspoiled snow, failed to move Sean. And for the first time, as he made his way down the slope, he failed to get in touch with the Zen of carving.
He’d screwed up badly last night and embarrassment stung him with the ferocity of
an icy wind. Robyn probably thought he was either an idiot or that he wasn’t attracted to her, and while the jury was still out on the former, the latter couldn’t be further from the truth.
He was more attracted to her than he’d ever been to anyone, and it went beyond the surface, beyond beauty and physique. Something more, something deep inside her had taken hold of him, had touched him somewhere deep inside himself. Conflicting emotions and thoughts swirled through him, tugging at above-the-belt organs that weren’t accustomed to dealing with women. What the hell was happening to him?
Cursing, he straightened his skis and crouched, increasing his speed in a bid to outrun his confusion and irritation, and left Todd, to whom he’d barely spoken today, well behind. He skidded to a stop midway down the run to dress down two teenaged boys who were skiing recklessly, endangering more well-behaved guests. The mountain cop routine worked out a little of the tension that had him wound up tighter than his boot bindings, and by the time he hit the bottom of the run, he felt marginally better.
Better, that was, until Todd caught up with him.
“You out of your funk yet?”
“I’m not in a funk.”
“You’re so deep in funk you reek.” Todd looked out at the ocean of skiers milling about and waved at someone he knew. “Your little radio honey didn’t give it up last night, did she?”
Sean squinted in the bright sunlight at his partner. “Do you ever think of anything else?”
“When did you stop thinking of anything else?”
Good question. And one to which Sean had no answer. Well, not entirely true. Drinking and partying and one-night stands had taken a backseat to surgery and physical rehabilitation and healing two years ago, and he’d never really brought the elements he’d considered so important to the front seat again.
Reintroducing those elements into his life once more was what he’d hoped to accomplish with the commentator job and getting laid.
Funny, but getting laid didn’t seem so important now. Oh, he wanted to spend a couple of hot, sweaty hours in bed with a woman, but he wanted that woman to be Robyn. Only Robyn. And he wanted more than a meaningless fuck.
Maybe that was the problem. His goal had been simply to get her into bed, just as it had been with Jenny. But Jenny had been a port in a storm who wanted nothing more than a mutually satisfying good time, and when he’d freaked out at the last minute, she’d reacted…badly.
Robyn was more than that, definitely not the fling type, and yet he’d been treating her like one. No, not exactly. Sure, everything he’d said and done had been carefully designed to get her into bed, but he’d also taken her home instead of to a hotel. He’d cooked dinner instead of taking her out to a fancy restaurant. He’d rented movies instead of going to one.
So obviously Robyn was more to him than a fling, but he’d failed to see that. Maybe he needed to develop a real relationship with her. Maybe he needed to ease into a place where he felt comfortable making love to her instead of merely screwing.
Maybe he was turning into a big fucking sap.
“Earth to Sean.”
Sean blinked at the gloved hand waving in front of his eyes. “What?”
“Let’s grab a cup of coffee and work out a new plan.”
Sean jammed his poles into the snow to push off. “Coffee, yes. Plan, no. I’ve already got one.”
He was going to do things differently for once. A unique plan for a unique woman and a unique situation. He was going to go slow. And he’d start by telling her the truth about the sports announcer job. For once in his life, he was going to have a relationship. Not a fling.
Robyn had barely finished squeezing the filling into a strawberry tartlet when her cell phone’s muffled ring made her stomach lurch with a combination of anticipation and dread. She’d gotten a job lead after lunch, she’d made a follow-up call to another potential employer and she’d left a message on Sean’s home answering machine. Oh, please, please, let it be good news.
Quickly, she grabbed a towel and wiped her hands as she ran to the bakery’s tiny office to dig through her purse. She snagged the cell phone on the fourth ring and her heart pounded crazily when she looked at the name flashing on the phone’s screen.
George Walker, alias GeeWiz, returning the desperate call she’d made to him last night in the hotel room after leaving Sean. At the time, he’d had no job leads for her, but he’d promised to do his best to help her out with the auction, and hopefully his help involved him flying to Colorado to emcee.
Hand shaking, she put the phone to her ear.
“Hey, babe,” George purred in the deep voice that had propelled him to fame.
“George. Please tell me you have good news.”
A long pause stretched out over the airwaves and her spark of hope fizzled. “Yes and no. I’m sorry, but I can’t make it there to emcee. My agent booked me for an awards dinner I can’t back out of.”
Disappointment sucked the strength from her bones and she sank heavily into the office chair. “That’s all right,” she managed, even though it wasn’t. “It was a long shot.”
“Yeah, total bummer. If I’d known sooner…but it isn’t all bad.” His voice took an upbeat swing. “I got you a bunch of stuff for the auction. Some signed CDs and DVDs by top artists, some prereleases, promotional T-shirts, gift certificates for our online shop and a karaoke machine. I’ll have everything overnighted. Does that help?”
Tears of both gratitude and frustration welled in her eyes. George couldn’t make it like she’d hoped, but the items he’d procured would help the money-raising effort. “Oh, George, I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Just be a success, babe. You deserve it. Damon isn’t fit to breathe the same air as you, so don’t let him get to you.”
She thanked George again—as well as she could through the sobs that clogged her throat, and hung up. Now what? George had been her last, best hope.
She slumped forward and banged her head on the desk. How was she going to break the news to the reunion committee? She’d volunteered to organize the auction, and because of her contacts with radio celebs, they’d asked her to arrange an emcee. Of course she’d jumped right up and agreed so she could show off her success and finally impress the people who had made her teenage years absolute hell.
Now she was going to hand them the hammer to pound in the last nail in her coffin. To save the auction, she might be forced to do what she’d said so casually to Damon—emcee herself. The thought made her want to curl into a quivering ball on the floor. Not only was she near-phobic about crowds and being in front of them, but she wouldn’t draw the number of people they’d need to bring in a lot of money. The auction was going to go down on her high school’s list of most gargantuan failures.
Because of her.
“Robyn?”
She lifted her head and looked at her mom through blurry eyes. “Yes?”
Her mother bustled into the office. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
Sitting up, Robyn grabbed a tissue from the box on the desk. “Nothing. I’ve just got some job issues.”
She felt bad about lying—well, she did have job issues, but they weren’t her major concern at the moment. Her mom simply would not understand the reunion thing. Because Robyn’s academic record had been flawless in high school, her mother had not been sympathetic to her social troubles. She figured that since Robyn got good grades, nothing else should bother her.
“What kind of job issues?”
Robyn hesitated. Her family would be so disappointed if they knew the truth. She’d bragged about her success, about how happy she was as a big city girl and with the money she made. And now she was paying for her boastful ways.
“Piles and piles of work.”
“Then this vacation must be good for you.”
Yeah, right. Robyn smiled and hoped she didn’t look sick.
“Sweetie,” her mom began, pulling up a seat, “we need to talk.”
By “talk”, her mo
ther meant “the end of the world is at hand”. She braced herself for whatever bomb her mom was about to drop.
“I’ve told you your father hasn’t been helping much with the bakery anymore, yes?”
Robyn nodded.
“He bought a hunting cabin. You remember Mr. Delaney’s place?”
How could she forget the cozy four-room cabin near the lodge where her family used to ride in on horseback and stay for hunting and fishing weekends? Mr. Delaney had been a family friend until he died last year, and he’d allowed the Montgomerys use the cabin anytime they wished. The memories of time spent at the cabin were as precious to her as those she had of helping her parents at the bakery.
“Why would he buy a cabin?” An acid glob sank to the pit of her belly, and she grasped the edge of the desk as though she might fall over. “You aren’t…you wouldn’t get a divorce?”
Her mom laughed and laid a hand on her knee. “Oh, heavens no. Your dad bought it so he can start a business as a hunting guide.”
Relief flooded her, but she remained tense. “Why?”
“We’re ready to retire. The hunting guide thing is a little something to keep your father busy. You know how he is.” Her mother’s German accent thickened—a telltale sign of stress. “So we’re selling Hausfreunde.”
“What? No!” She shook her head. She couldn’t have heard that right. But one look at her mother’s dour expression said otherwise. “No. You can’t do that!”
“It’s time. We don’t want to be making lebküchen in our wheelchairs.”
“You aren’t that old,” Robyn protested.
“No, but we want to enjoy ourselves before we are that old.”
“Couldn’t Joe or Greg—”
Her mother clucked her tongue and sighed. “Greg is too busy with the airline to care about the bakery. And Joe…well, he’s Joe.”
Robyn nodded in understanding. Neither brother had a clean track record when it came to reliability, but at least Greg was making a good life as a pilot for a private charter company. Joe had no idea what he wanted out of life except to have a good time, and being saddled with a responsibility like Hausfreunde was more horse than he could handle.