by Lisa Jackson
Groaning, he half pushed her up toward the loft. Melanie’s throat went dry, but a thrill of anticipation skittered up her spine and she stepped onto the ladder.
With each rung, she wondered if she were making a mistake she would never be able to undo, but she kept climbing, one step at a time, until she stood in the cold, darkened loft and Gavin was beside her, his breath stirring her hair as he slid the coat from her shoulders and tossed it onto the old straw. Then, holding her chin between both his palms, he molded a kiss against her lips that made her shiver from head to toe.
A tremor passed through Melanie, and she was sure he could feel it as his tongue pressed insistently against her teeth and into her mouth, searching, tasting, plundering.
His hands held her tight against him, his thighs pressing against hers, her breasts crushed to his chest.
“I never forgot you Melanie,” he admitted, his voice rough. “Never.” His hands slid lower, cupping her buttocks, pulling her against him. Through their clothes, she felt the hardness between his legs, the urgency in his touch.
“I tried. God, I tried. And there were other women—women I hoped would make me forget.”
“Shh,” she whispered, the breath torn from her lungs. She touched his lips with the tip of one finger. “I don’t want to hear about them.”
He drew her finger into his mouth and sucked, his tongue playing havoc with her nerve endings as it tickled and toyed.
Melanie’s abdomen tightened. Liquid heat scorched her veins, and she couldn’t stop the moan that slipped through her lips.
Kissing her again, he pulled her closer, forcing one of her legs to move upward and rest against his hip. Her head lolled backward, and her arms wrapped around his neck as they fell to the hay. Her old coat was a meager blanket against the cold air and the rough hay, but Melanie didn’t notice. She was on fire inside, and the scratch of the straw only heightened her already tingling senses.
Gavin’s mouth found hers again. Hot, anxious lips pressed hard against hers in a kiss that was as punishing as it was filled with promise.
“Gavin,” she cried wantonly. She arched upward, closer, closer. He stripped away her sweater and took both lace-covered breasts in his hands. Burying his head between the mounds, he kissed the skin over her breasts as he pulled her bra away. The stubble on his chin was rough, his lips and tongue wet and wild and wonderful as his hot breath whispered across her nipples and caused a fire to burn deep within.
He teased her. His tongue grazed a nipple, parrying and thrusting, wetting the tight bud until Melanie was wild with desire.
An ache stole through her, and she cradled his head to her breast. He suckled long and hard, and Melanie grasped his hair in her hands, her fingers tangling in his thick blond locks.
He began to move against her, and she felt his rhythm, still holding him close as he struggled out of his clothes and kicked his jeans away. Lord, she wanted him. She could barely think for the desire rippling deep within.
His eyes were gold and glowing with a passion matched only by her own as he discarded her clothes quickly. And then they were naked. Again in the barn, but this time the love between them was a savage, forceful desire that stripped them bare. “You make me crazy,” he muttered, as if trying to get a grip on his exploding passion.
Was he going to stop? Now? Oh, God, no! “Gavin . . . please . . .” Writhing, she lifted her hips, and he ran his hand along her inner thigh, touching the apex of her legs, and groaning in satisfaction at the evidence of her desire.
“Melanie . . .” he whispered, his breath fanning her skin, his tongue wetting a trail against her leg.
His hands once again found her buttocks, and she moved closer to him, trembling with desire as he found her, pleasuring her until she could stand the sensual teasing no longer.
“Gavin, oh, please . . .” She reached for him, drawing him up along her body, her hands forcing his head to hers, and she kissed him with all the desire flooding through her veins. Touching the flat nipples in his mat of golden hair, she sucked on his lower lip and he lost control.
“What do you want from me?” he rasped, his voice echoing off the old beams.
“Everything.”
Shifting, he lifted her legs in the air, leaning her smooth legs against his chest.
“Oh really?” she said, biting her bottom lip sensually as he moved his body against her in this new position.
“This one gives me such a nice view,” Gavin responded, smiling slyly.
Slowly, she could feel him enter her and they both reveled in the sensation. First with shallow thrusts, and as things heated, Gavin took control. He plunged deep and she arched upward, meeting the fervor of his thrusts anxiously, closing around him again and again, their bodies fusing in savage fury.
Her senses were on fire as he massaged her breasts while he entered and withdrew, pushing her to the edge of rapture. Her fingers dug into the supple flesh of his arms and at the sound of his primal cry, she shuddered, dropping her legs and convulsing against him, a thousand sparks igniting and sizzling.
With a dry gasp, he collapsed atop her, crushing her breasts and pressing her hard against the rough coat. Perspiration fused their bodies, and his curling chest hair tickled her sensitive bare skin.
“Melanie,” he whispered, his voice raw and hoarse. “What am I going to do with you?”
And what am I going to do with you? Wrapping her arms around him, she closed her eyes and tried to slow the still-rapid beating of her heart. She wasn’t going to fall apart now, to weep for what might have been. But she held him tightly, as if afraid he might disappear.
When he slowly rolled to his side, she reluctantly released him.
“This is insane,” he said. “Just plain crazy.” He plucked a piece of straw from her hair and sighed loudly.
“So what’re we going to do about it?”
“I wish I knew,” he muttered.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“I think it would be best if we went low profile,” Gavin stated, finishing his second helping of slightly burned chicken potpie. As if the passion that had exploded between them less than an hour before had been forgotten.
“Low profile?” Melanie repeated, unable to touch her food.
“If Michaels is really serious about making us the lead story in his next issue, we should diffuse it.”
“By not being together?” Why did it hurt so much?
As if noticing her pain, he reached across the table and wrapped warm fingers around her palm. His thumb slowly rubbed the back of her hand. “I just don’t want the focus of attention shifted from the lodge to us.” He offered her a patient smile. “It’s only for a little while, ’til the lodge gets on its feet. And believe me,” he added with a devilish twinkle in his eyes, “it’ll be as hard on me as it is on you.”
“You think so?”
“I know it.” With a sigh, he scraped his chair back and reached for his coat. “I’ve got to get back, but I’ll see you at the resort, right. Rich says you’ve got some pictures on consignment in the ski shop?”
“That’s right.”
“And you’ll be there for the grand opening?”
She nodded, though her throat was tight as she walked with him to the back door. “You bet.”
“Bring your ski gear. Maybe we could take a few runs together.”
“You’ll be too busy.”
“Then come up sometime before.” He reached for the handle of the door.
“I thought we were going low profile,” she teased, though she didn’t feel much like joking.
“We will. I doubt if Michaels will catch us on Devil’s Ridge or West Canyon.” He smiled as he mentioned two of the toughest runs on the mountain.
“It’s a date,” she said as he drew her outside and swept her into his arms. His lips caressed hers in a kiss that was full of promise and pain.
When he lifted his head again, he groaned. “We’ve got to do something about this,” he whispered, his voic
e rough as he rested his chin against her crown and held her close. Wrapped in the smell and feel of him, she hated to let go.
When at last he released her, she stood on the porch and watched as he ran across the yard and climbed into his truck. With a roar the engine caught, and as the pickup backed out of the drive, the beams of his headlights flashed against the old barn and the trunks of the trees in the backyard. As the light receded, she noticed the huge ponderosa with the gash in its bark, the ugly cut her father had made when he’d first learned she was pregnant all those years ago.
She closed her eyes for a second and wondered where she and Gavin would go from here. Would the future be bright and filled with happiness, or black with the loss of a love that was never meant to be?
“Don’t even think about it,” she told herself as she walked back into the house.
* * *
“I’ve got good news,” Dr. Hodges said as he switched on the light and illuminated an X-ray of Gavin’s leg.
“I could use some.” Gavin eyed the X-ray but couldn’t make head nor tail of it. He hadn’t seen Melanie in days, and was irritable. The lodge was opening the day after tomorrow, and he was up to his eyeballs in preparations. But he really didn’t give a damn. He just wanted to be with her.
“The fracture’s healed.” Hodges studied the X-ray again, narrowing his eyes, looking for some sign of the flaw that had sidelined Gavin.
Gavin felt a slow smile spread across his face as he thought about the season ahead. “I can race again.”
“Well,” Hodges said, his lips protruding thoughtfully, “there’s no physical reason why you can’t, at least not in your ankle. But if I were you, I’d give it a year before I raced competitively again.”
“So you’re releasing me?”
Hodges smiled a boyish grin. “For the time being. But if you have any pain—any at all—I want you back here, pronto.”
“You got it.” Gavin stood and shook Hodges’s hand. He felt as if a ton of bricks had been lifted from his shoulders and he wanted to celebrate. With Melanie. This afternoon . . .
* * *
Melanie was miserable. The past few days without Gavin she’d been cranky and upset and her stomach had been queasy. “All because of one man,” she chided herself stepped out of her studio and walked into the kitchen.
“About time you finished in there.”
Melanie nearly Jumped out of her skin. Gavin was there, half-kneeling, scratching Sassafras behind his ears.
“How’d you get in?” she asked, drinking in the sight of him. Dressed in gray slacks and a pullover sweater, his skin tanned and his hair unruly, he was as handsome as ever. He glanced up at her and her heart turned over.
“Breach in security. The front door was unlocked. I heard you in there and I didn’t want to bother you.” He straightened and his eyes sparkled. “Come on, get your gear.”
“My gear?” she repeated as his arms surrounded her.
“We’re going skiing.”
“Now? But I have work—”
“Who has time for that? We’re celebrating!” Wrapping strong arms around her waist, he spun her off the floor.
“Wait. Your leg!” she cried, though it was her stomach that lurched.
“That’s what we’re celebrating,” he said, dropping her back to her feet and planting a kiss against her forehead. “I’m invincible again.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
He winked. “The doctor’s released me. Given me the okay to race again!”
She felt her face drain of color. “This season?”
“As soon as I can pull it off. I’m rusty, of course, and older than most of the guys on the circuit. It’ll take some intense training, but I can work out at the lodge. And once Ridge Lodge is up and running, Rich and the manager can handle the rest.”
So he was leaving, again. All her private hopes disintegrated. Her father was right. Gavin’s first love was and would always be the thrill of downhill racing.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his eyes suddenly serious.
“I’m fine,” she lied, forcing a smile that felt as fake as a three-dollar bill. “Just let me get my things.” Wriggling out of his embrace, she ran out of the kitchen and upstairs. Her head was pounding, and when she looked in the mirror she noticed that her face had turned ashen. “Great, Melanie—you’re a real trooper,” she chided, changing into a black turtleneck and her new jumpsuit, a purple and sea-green one-piece that she’d found in a local shop before she’d quit working for the Tribune.
She found her skis, poles and boots and packed a small bag for her goggles, gloves, sunglasses and an extra set of clothes. Then, before she went back downstairs, she splashed water on her face and fought a sudden attack of nausea.
“Hang in there,” she said angrily, furious with herself for overreacting to the news that he was leaving. A little blush and lipstick helped, and when she hurried downstairs, she’d pushed all thoughts of life without Gavin from her mind. They still had a little time together, and she was determined to make the best of it.
They drove to the lodge, and while Gavin changed, Melanie waited for him outside. The sky was blue and clear, and other skiers tackled the runs, gliding gracefully down the slopes or, in the case of the less experienced skiers, grappled with their balance as they snowplowed on the gradual hills.
Melanie smiled as she heard the crunch of boots behind her. Turning, she expected to find Gavin but was disappointed. Jim Doel was walking toward her, and his face was firm and set.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” he said.
Nervously, she replied, “Gavin and I decided to ski together before the crowd hits this weekend.”
Jim frowned. “Look, I don’t see any reason to beat around the bush.”
Melanie braced herself.
“A lot of things have happened between your family and mine, and Lord knows if I could change things I would. I’m the reason you grew up without a mother and I’ve lived with that for eighteen years. I’ve also lived with the fact that I wasn’t much of a father to Gavin, but he made it on his own. Became one of the best skiers in the whole damned country.”
“You should be proud,” Melanie said icily.
“Of some things. All I’m saying is that I’m sorry for the accident. If I could’ve traded places with your ma, I would’ve.”
“If you’re expecting me to forgive you—”
“Nope. What I expect is for you to leave Gavin alone. You’ve messed with his mind enough.” He raised faded eyes to hers. “He’s got a second chance, you know. Most people don’t get another one. And he loves racing.”
“I know.”
“So let him go.”
She inched her chin up a fraction. “Why would I take away something he loves so much? I’m not going to stop him from racing.”
He didn’t look as if he believed her, but she didn’t care. She had something else she had to get off her chest. And, though a part of her longed to blame him for the tragedy, she knew it was unfair. He’d paid for it with every day of his life. “As for my mother’s death, it was a long time ago,” she said, offering a slight smile. “I hope you can put it in the past where it belongs. I have.”
His jaw worked.
“And, though I doubt you and I will ever be close, regardless of how we feel about Gavin, I’d like for us to try to be fair with each other.”
His lips compressed. “All I want from you is a promise that you won’t interfere in his life.”
“How Gavin lives his life is Gavin’s business.”
“Glad you see things my way.”
“But I do care about him very much.”
“Then do what’s best for him.” With that, he strode toward the machine shed, and Melanie let out her breath slowly. She watched as Jim disappeared inside the shed, then she headed toward the lift. She wondered if she and Jim Doel could ever be comfortable around each other. Probably not.
Frowning, she adjusted her bi
ndings and practiced skiing on the flat area behind the lodge.
“Hey! Let’s go!” Gavin, already on skis, was making his way to the Daredevil lift. Wearing a royal blue jacket and black ski pants, he planted his poles and she followed. Her heart soared at the sight of him, and she shoved his father from her thoughts. Today she was going to enjoy being with the man she loved.
The lift carried them over snow-covered runs, thick stands of pine and a frozen creek. Gavin rested one arm over the back of the chair, and they laughed and talked as they were swept up the mountainside.
Cool air brushed her cheeks and caught in her hair. Gavin touched her cheek and she smiled, happy to be alone with him. At the top of the lift, they slid down the ramp.
“Follow me,” Gavin urged, his voice excited, and Melanie only hoped she could keep up with him.
Melanie’s ski legs were better than she remembered, and she flew down the mountainside, snow spraying, hair whipping in the wind. Gavin, far ahead of her now, skied effortlessly. His movements were sure and strong, and as he glided from one plateau to the next, he waited for her.
At one plateau, she didn’t stop to catch her breath but flew past him, her laughter trailing in her wake. Gavin gave chase and breezed past her along a narrow trail that sliced through the trees.
Exhilaration pushed her onward, and the wind rushed against her face, stinging her eyes and tangling her hair. She rounded a bend and found Gavin stopped dead in his tracks, flagging her down.
“Giving up?” she quipped as she dug in her skis and stopped near him. She was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
“No, I just thought you could use a rest.” To her amazement, he pressed hard on his bindings, releasing his skis from his boots.
“Me?” she mocked, still gulping breaths of fresh air. “I could do this for hours! You’re just wimping out on me.”
“Psh. Don’t kid yourself.” He glanced up, and his smile slashed his tanned skin. “Well,” he drawled, “I did have an ulterior motive.”
“And what’s that?”
“I wanted to get you alone up here.”
