But half an hour later saw her sitting in the back of a taxi, heading toward Nick’s house.
“Hi, what kept you?” Nick asked as he opened the door. His greeting was warm, as was the kiss he pressed on her lips. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming. Here, let me take that,” he said, reaching for her suitcase.
“I almost didn’t come,” she told him, and he paused in the act of closing the door, to stare at her. She turned away, not wanting him to see her expression. “I’m really not looking forward to skiing.”
She felt his arms go around her waist as he pulled her back against him. His breath was warm against her neck, making her shiver slightly. “That’s not all we’ll be doing,” he told her in a low voice. The tip of his tongue lightly brushed against her ear. Shane closed her eyes for a moment, sinking against him. Why did it have to be this man? Why did she have to fall in love with a box-office god who decorated the walls of hundreds of thousands of teenage girls’ bedrooms? She had heard that his weekly fan mail count was astronomical.
“Take off your jacket,” he instructed, letting her go.
“Now?” she asked, thinking that he meant to make love to her. “I thought we had a plane to catch.”
“This won’t take long,” he promised her. Shane watched him disappear into the den, wondering what he was up to. He emerged in a moment with a large box, which he thrust at her. “Here, this is for you,” he said, taking the jacket out of her hands.
She tried to balance the box gracefully as she opened it. The lid fell off, soon followed by the bottom portion as Shane took out the ermine jacket that had been cradled within the sky-blue tissue paper. She stared, dumbfounded, her fingers pressing into the baby-soft fur.
“Do you like it?” Nick asked, watching her face.
“Like it?” she echoed. “It’s beautiful.” She stroked the white sleeve.
“Well, then, put it on,” Nick urged, his voice low as he began to slip the ermine gift on her arms.
“Nick, I can’t accept this,” she protested, letting him put it on her nonetheless.
“Why?” he asked, peering around to look at her face. “Are you a conservationist? I promise you, the ermines were already dead when I bought this jacket.” He came around to view his handiwork. “There,” he said, straightening the opening just a bit, “you look like a princess. My princess,” he added.
“Nick, I—“
“Shh,” he said, placing a finger to her lips. “It’s yours. I can’t take it back. I already threw out the tags.”
Shane shook her head, running her hand lovingly over the fur. “You’re making it awfully hard to resist you,” she murmured.
“Then, don’t try,” he told her, threading his hands beneath the jacket and about her waist. Her old jacket lay forgotten on top of her suitcase.
A loud cough kept them from kissing. They both turned to see Scottie standing on the landing of the stairway. “Um, Nick, if we don’t hurry—“
Nick nodded, taking Shane’s hand. “—we’ll miss the plane,” he said, ending the sentence for Scottie. “Okay, let’s go.” He grabbed Shane’s suitcase with his free hand.
On the plane, Shane and Nick were reunited with about twenty people from the set of The Lord High Protector, and the coming weekend promised to be a hectic one. Before the plane ended its short trip, Nick had promised to participate in the poker tournament planned for the weekend. Shane began to think that perhaps they wouldn’t have any time together, and the thought both relieved and saddened her. Never before had she felt so confused about her life. Never before had she wanted anything so fiercely that she’d known was wrong for her from the start. And even if Nick returned her feelings, what would the end results be? She saw nothing but frustration lying ahead of her.
But Shane did not have much time for soul searching or contemplation. Nick drew her into several conversations, and before she knew it, the plane was landing and she was being hustled into a waiting car. Nick had everything prearranged.
The lodge, nestled at the foot of a mountain, was beautiful. It looked like something straight out of a Swiss travelogue. Inside, a huge, two-sided white brick fireplace stood in the center of the lounge. A large, roaring fire licked at the dark mesh screen that enclosed it. Shane scanned the rustic, comfortable-looking room.
“Where’s the proverbial skiier with the broken leg?” she asked Nick suspiciously.
“Give them time.” He laughed. “They only opened for the season two days ago.” Behind them, the other members of the crew and cast were signing in. The air was filled with excited conversation.
“That’s highly comforting. With my luck, it’ll be me,” she said uneasily.
“What do you mean, with your luck?” he teased. “How many people do you know have mortally lanced the heart of Nick Rutledge, international heartthrob?” he asked with a wink.
“Pretty talk,” Shane said dryly, hoping there was a modicum of truth in his words, yet afraid to find out one way or the other.
“But I’m not all talk,” he said, his voice husky with promise.
She found out what he meant when she went up to her room. It was also his room.
Nick closed the door quietly behind them, setting the suitcases down in the far corner. “The slopes will be crowded about now,” he told her. “I thought we’d get an early start in the morning.”
“Fine by me,” she murmured. It would even be finer, she thought, if he forgot all about skiing. The prospect of flying pell-mell down a hill did not exactly thrill her. She envisioned herself at the bottom of the same hill, a tangle of broken arms, legs, ski poles, and skis littering the ground.
Nick drew her into his arms, kissing the top of her head. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you. You’ll be as safe as if you were in my arms.”
“As I see it, that’s not exactly safe either,” she breathed. She could feel her heart beginning to beat harder as she pressed against his tall frame.
“Living dangerously can be fun,” he told her, his mouth progressing from her temple to her cheek. She could feel the fire starting, consuming all her strength and resistance.
She tried to extricate herself before it was too late. “Nick, please don’t,” she breathed, the words getting harder and harder to manage.
To her surprise, it worked. He stopped kissing her. But he did not release her from his embrace. “You’ve had something on your mind for the last couple of days. What is it?”
“The article,” she said evasively, trying to look away.
But he wouldn’t let it go that easily. “I know you’re dedicated,” he told her, sitting down on the edge of the bed and pulling her down onto his lap. “But I don’t think that’s it. Now, tell me,” he urged, his voice soft and tender.
Shane felt awkward. What if she was presuming too much? What if he just thought that this was a casual fling? He’d laugh at all these serious inner doubts she had.
As if reading her mind, Nick said, “I think I have a right to know what’s bothering you.”
“Why?” she asked defensively.
Nick began to play with the shell buttons on her blouse, separating them from their buttonholes one at a time. “Because, lady, if you don’t realize by now that you’re pretty special to me, you’re not as perceptive a writer as you’ve led me to believe.” The blouse fell away, hanging on either side of her full breasts like a parted curtain. Slowly, Nick’s searching fingers began to skim over the lacy outline of her bra, purposefully gliding over the peaked tips that strained to be free.
“How special?” she asked.
“Special enough to make me want to make you a part of my life,” he told her, uncinching her belt and guiding the zipper of her pants down with the tip of his forefinger.
“That’s just it,” she tried to tell him, struggling valiantly to keep her wits about her as her body burned. “I don’t want to be just a part—“
Nick raised his eyes to her face for a moment. “Does that mea
n you’re turning down my proposal?” he asked seriously.
“Proposal?” she gasped in astonishment.
“Well, I wasn’t talking about forming a production company. Have I been misunderstanding what’s been happening between us?” he asked, his hand frozen in mid-motion. “Don’t you love me?” he asked huskily.
Oh, God, yes, her mind echoed. But the tone she used in replying was hesitant. “Yes. ...”
“But?” he pressed.
She sighed. “I’m not one to tend the home fires,” she told him, wishing desperately that the words would form more clearly. Where was her wondrous ability to turn a phrase? Why was she so terribly tongue-tied now, of all times in her life?
“I wasn’t intending to leave you home,” he told her. “I thought I’d take you with me on location.” He began to tug at her slacks.
Without thinking, Shane stood up, allowing her slacks to fall to her ankles. Nick pulled her back on his lap and removed the remaining outer clothing with one motion.
“To stand around and watch you work?” Shane asked, trying to ignore the throbbing ache that was licking at every part of her.
“No,” Nick said, stroking her leg, making concentric circles higher and higher on her white flesh. “To make love with me until I’m ready to die of exhaustion—and then one more time after that for good luck.” He began to kiss the point of her shoulder, his tongue teasingly outlining the strap of her bra.
“But . . . I . . . like . . . my career. ...” she protested. One strap dropped from her shoulder, soon to be joined by the other. The total descent of the cups was hindered by the hardened tips of her breasts. Nick kissed them ardently through the thin material, making it damp.
“Fine,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “You can go on with it, if that’s what makes you happy,” he told her, his breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps. “I don’t want anything to make you unhappy.”
He unhooked her bra, fondling first one heavy breast and then the other as Shane all but pressed them into his hand.
“But that’ll separate us,” she protested. At that moment the idea of even a short separation was agony.
“Right now the only thing separating us is a little material,” he told her, shifting around and laying her on the bed. As Shane sank down against the fur comforter, Nick made short work of her panties, tantalizing her as he slid them languidly from her hips, first one side and then the other. Her hands ached to draw him near, to touch him as he was touching her.
For a moment, he sat, drinking in the sight of her body as it offered itself to him. His shirt was stripped away in seconds, followed by his boots, then his jeans. His briefs he left for Shane to manage.
“Go ahead,” he coaxed, stretching out next to her on the bed.
Shane was hard pressed to say who was more excited as she felt her heart quicken and a moan escape his lips when she drew away the material from his taut stomach and trim hips. Her cool fingers kneaded his flesh, working their way to his buttocks. She felt all control fleeing from her as the ache within her grew and grew, her body aching against his demandingly.
“Things’ll work out,” he promised her, whispering the words against her ear before he bathed it in short, flaming kisses. “Besides, think of the exclusive story you’ll have: Nick Rutledge loses his heart to efficient journalist with fantastic body.”
Anything Shane might have said in the way of a reply was lost as his mouth covered hers, almost blistering it in its demands. He was drawing away her very soul, pulling it into himself, as passion took over every fiber of her body.
His weight shifted onto hers as she prepared to receive him, all other thoughts scattering in the face of this pending throbbing ecstasy.
“I love you, Shane,” he murmured over and over again, his words heavy with desire.
Rhythmically, the ultimate crescendo building with increasing force, their bodies moved against each other, each leading the other to the promised paradise ahead. The final burst of power left them both breathless, sweetly tired and wrapped in each other’s arms.
“Got to admit,” Nick murmured against her breast as his head comfortably pillowed itself there, “this is definitely better than skiing.” He raised his head to look at her, smoothing back the waves of hair from her face. The very action was loving. “Maybe I’ll just forget about the snow and have my winter carnival right here.”
“Your friends would miss you,” she said, tracing the outline of his mouth with her fingers. She loved his mouth, so quick to smile. She loved everything about him. Was she being a fool to have the doubts she did?
“They’d miss my money at the poker games more.” He laughed, sitting up. Shane watched the muscles ripple in his back as he stood up. Her eyes darted to every part of his physique, looking at the clearly defined ribbons of stomach muscles that accented his taut waist. No one had a right to be so perfectly lovely, she thought. And he wanted to be all hers.
“You’d better get some clothes on before I stop listening to my stomach plead for nourishment and go back for second helpings of you instead,” he said mischievously.
Quickly she rose from the bed, gathering up her scattered clothing, which she donned in less time than it had taken to remove, then opened her suitcase, looking for a hairbrush. She purposely avoided Nick’s eyes as she went about her small tasks.
“I won’t pressure you, Shane,” he said quietly. “But the proposal wasn’t said in the heat of the moment. I really do love you, and something can be worked out.”
“What?” she asked, turning to face him.
“I don’t have all the answers yet,” he told her, giving her a quick kiss as he went on re-buttoning his shirt.
She wanted to believe him, believe in the happy, fairy-tale endings he seemed to specialize in. But even she knew that Hollywood marriages usually didn’t work, and that was without the burden of having a wife who worked on the East Coast. It all seemed doomed before it even came into existence.
“Success doesn’t mean all that much to you, does it?” Shane asked as they came into the dining room, waving to some people they recognized. Nick guided her to a cozy table for two just as an eager waiter approached with their menus.
“No, not really. It helps me go on doing what I like doing, of course. Helps me play good Samaritan when I want to, but if I fell from the top-ten list tomorrow, I wouldn’t grieve over it. I’ve got enough put aside now to insure my way of life for a lot of years to come,” he assured her. “How’s the roast beef special?” he asked the waiter.
“Terrific,” the gangly youth assured him.
“Fine, we’ll take two. Is that all right?” he asked Shane, who nodded.
“But don’t get me wrong,” Nick told her after the waiter had left. “I love my work. It’s a lot of fun for me.”
“And I love mine,” she told him. “I love the excitement of putting together a good story, making it come alive out of bits and pieces of information.”
“I see,” Nick said thoughtfully as the waiter arrived with the tossed green salads that came with the dinner. Any further words on the subject were tabled as Bowman weaved his way toward them through the maze of tables.
“Eat fast, Rutledge. I’ve got a game starting up in twenty minutes,” he told him.
Nick looked at Shane. “Do you mind?”
“Mind? I was just going to ask to sit in,” Shane said brightly.
“Sit in?” Bowman repeated incredulously. He scratched the white fringe about his head. “You play poker?” he asked.
“Like a pro,” she replied.
“Knew there was something about this girl I liked. Bring her along, Rutledge,” he commanded, then went on to speak to someone else.
Nick grinned his approval. “Shane, you sound better and better by the minute.”
Shane went on eating, loving the way he looked at her.
Chapter Nine
Shane stayed in the game as long as she could but cashed her chips in at eleven. The me
n at her table grumbled good-naturedly about her quitting while she was ahead, but she begged off, saying that any second she was going to fall asleep in her seat. When Nick made a move to follow suit, she shook her head.
“No need for you to quit too,” she told him.
She had fully intended to wait up for him, but once her head hit the pillow, her eyes closed, and she remembered nothing further.
“Up and at ‘em, woman!”
Shane’s eyes flew open, then tried to bring the world into focus. The first thing that materialized was Nick, standing next to the bed, fully dressed and holding skis.
“Up and at who?” she asked, turning over on her side, away from him. Maybe if she shut her eyes really tight, he’d go away. She had absolutely no desire to attempt to learn to ski. High heels were the toughest thing she wanted to master as far as footwear went.
But Nick wouldn’t be put off. He came around the bed to face her once more. “At the slopes,” he said, answering her question. “Now’s the best time to hit them.”
“In the middle of the night?” She groaned.
“The sun’s up.”
“Good, go ski with the sun. I’ll join you later,” she muttered, burying her head under her pillow.
“You’ll join me now,” he insisted, unceremoniously pulling the covers down to her feet in one fluid motion.
Shane shivered as she sat up, a flimsy aqua nightgown wrapped haphazardly around her. One breast threatened to come out at any second.
“Of course,” Nick offered, sitting down on the bed, “the slopes right here are even more tempting than the ones out there. ...” His voice trailed off wickedly.
Shane ran her hands through her wayward hair. “No, I’ll be up in a minute.”
“So will I,” he told her.
Shane took a deep breath, feeling it safer to be out in the open with him. She couldn’t think straight when she was alone with him, and there was so much to be sorted out in the light of day, she told herself. She swung her long legs down onto the cold floor, completely missing the deep-pile scatter rug and hitting the icy floor. The sensation helped bring her to. She walked over to the closet to get something to wear and realized that she hadn’t even unpacked anything yet.
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