He didn’t say anything, though. There was too great a risk of spoiling the mood. Perhaps by tomorrow she’d raise the subject herself.
As they were finishing their second glasses, Heather abruptly sat upright. “I don’t believe it!”
“What?” Jason glanced around, trying to figure out what had stirred her response.
“The snow stopped.”
Through the window, he saw that she was right. “The roads can’t be cleared yet. Please don’t tell me you’re thinking of driving down the mountain tonight.”
“Not in a million years.” Heather stretched languorously, a movement that displayed her shapely body to advantage. “I’ve got the funniest idea.”
“What’s that?” Rising heat inside Jason tempted him to make a suggestion of his own. He squelched the idea.
“I always wanted to make a snow angel but I never got the chance,” she said. “Do you think we could?”
“Now?” It was after ten o’clock. On the other hand, a bit of a chill might dampen his ardor.
“You’re right. The whole notion is goofy.” Heather gave a little shake that made her hair bounce. “I should wait for tomorrow.”
“Maybe there is no tomorrow.”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s the wine speaking,” Jason admitted. “On the other hand, if there’s something you’ve always wanted to do and the opportunity presents itself, why wait?”
“It’s not as if a warm spell is going to set in while we sleep,” Heather pointed out, evidently still battling her impulse.
“It’s something you’ve always wanted to do,” he persisted.
“I was being childish,” she said. “It’s much too late at night to go running around in the snow.”
Jason told himself she was right. They were two distinguished physicians, for heaven’s sake. They ought to behave themselves with decorum. Or forget all about decorum and rip each other’s clothes off.
No, no, no. He was not going to think along those lines.
Snow angels. He hadn’t made one since he was—how old? Twelve, maybe. That was when his father had declared that it was beneath his son’s dignity to roll around in the snow like a little kid.
Longing welled for the days of childhood that had ended in seventh grade as, one by one, his parents declared him too old. Too old for his teddy bears. Too old to read his favorite children’s books. Too old for snow angels.
Jason pushed off from the arm of the sofa, arriving at an upright state despite the liquidity of his knees. “I’m going to do it,” he declared.
“Do what?”
“I haven’t been allowed to make a snow angel since I was in junior high school,” Jason said. “The time has come for a relapse.”
“Your parents wouldn’t let you play in the snow? I understand their reasoning for not allowing a dog, but surely they weren’t afraid you’d track snow through their picture-perfect house,” Heather said.
“My father said I’d become a young man and it was time I learned to control myself,” Jason recalled. “He made it sound as if I might disgrace the family.”
“By frolicking?” Heather asked in disbelief.
“My father frowned upon frolicking. He frowned upon almost any form of fun.” Jason knew he was exaggerating. His father was neither a Puritan nor a tyrant. But he had been overly strict.
“You need to get in touch with your inner child.” Heather grimaced. “I can’t believe I said that. What a cliché!”
Jason’s inner child, or whatever had risen from his subconscious, urged him not to let this moment pass. “My coat,” he said, and headed for the entryway.
“Wait for me!” Heather jumped up.
Jason zipped his jacket and pushed open the front door. Cold air stung his face and filled his lungs while, in the fragments of sky visible through the cloud cover, he glimpsed an infinity of stars.
A bemittened figure in a parka darted beneath his upraised arm and out onto the smooth white expanse. When Heather turned, starlight glinted on her teeth. “It’s perfect! How do I do this?”
She reminded him of a creature from a fairy tale as she twirled against the whiteness, radiating joy. There was something magical about this woman.
“If you don’t quit dancing around, you’ll destroy your work surface,” Jason instructed, although he doubted there was any sight on earth the angels would enjoy more than that of Heather cavorting in the moonlight.
“Sorry.” She halted.
“Stand in a clear patch, sit down carefully and lie on your back,” he instructed. “Wave your arms straight up and down and shift your legs.”
Heather obeyed. Despite a tug of embarrassment, Jason followed suit.
The snow tickled his neck with a cold kiss. He felt awkward at first, scissoring his arms and legs, but Heather’s whoops of pleasure encouraged him. Tension vanished and he recovered the loose-limbed freedom of a child.
After making the angel, he lay flat on his back staring at the heavens. The clouds parted bit by bit, revealing more brilliant lights beyond. Jason made out the Big Dipper and Andromeda.
“It’s as if God is pulling back the curtains,” Heather said.
“You can see the constellations with remarkable clarity.” Jason’s father had spent many a summer night instructing him on how to chart the heavens through his telescope.
“Forget the constellations,” Heather said. “This is not a scientific expedition. Enjoy the beauty.”
Jason blinked. In place of constellations, he saw a wild swirling realm filled with mystery and the possibility of distant worlds.
When he was little, he’d longed to fly through space and time, to soar in the night and step into enchanted lands. At his parents’ insistence, he’d put all that fantasizing behind him.
Tonight, Heather’s enthusiasm restored his sense of wonder. An obscuring layer inside him separated like the clouds, allowing Jason to touch his own imagination.
In vino, veritas. The Latin phrase made sense to him as it never had before, that truth could be found with the aid of wine. And, he added silently, with the help of a special woman.
“You’re right,” he said. “It’s absolutely gorgeous out here.”
“It really is,” Heather said. A long moment passed while they studied the twinkling stars. Peace drifted into Jason’s heart. He never wanted to move again.
“I hate to admit it,” said his companion, “but I’m getting cold.”
“Of course you’re cold. You’re lying in the snow,” Jason pointed out. At the same time, he became aware that his gloved hands were growing numb and his nose smarted.
“I can’t get up,” Heather said.
“I’ll help.” He started to rise.
“No!” She waved a hand frantically. “I meant, I can’t get up without ruining the angel.”
“We can make more tomorrow,” Jason said.
“If we wreck them, what’s the point?” Heather asked gloomily. “We came out here for nothing.”
“The point is to exist in the moment,” he told her. “Once it’s over, we have to go on to the next thing and not look back.”
It was a philosophy he’d heard about but never been able to implement in his own life. Tonight, beneath the benevolent influence of the stars, he decided to turn over a new leaf.
He regretted hurting Eileen and he rued his mistake with Mary Alice. But it was time to let go of his guilt and move on.
At that moment, a burden seemed to lift from his shoulders. Ten years was long enough to berate himself for errors in judgment. Jason felt light enough to float.
“I like that idea.” Heather gave a contented sigh. “Think of how much anxiety we’d spare ourselves if we didn’t worry over the past.”
“Or the future. Except the immediate future, when we’re likely to freeze to death if we don’t move.” Rousing himself, he jumped to his feet. Heather followed suit. “Remember: Don’t look back and don’t look down.”
“I never
got to see my angel,” she said wistfully.
“You were the angel,” he said. “Isn’t that better?”
“I’m looking down, whether you like it or not.” She turned. “Oh, it’s splendid!”
Following her gaze, he saw that they hadn’t ruined the angels after all. “They’re lovely.”
“Yours is better than mine.” She pointed to it. “You have crisper edges.”
“I make a good angel.” He grinned.
“No one at work would believe it.” Heather shot him an impish grin. “Does this mean you’re going to be sweetness and light from now on?”
“Only when I’m intoxicated with wine and a celestial influence.”
“We’d better go in.” Heather sounded reluctant, although she was hugging herself against the chill. “We might not hear Ginger if she wakes up. Besides, my feet are turning into blocks of ice.” She started forward, then staggered.
Jason seized her elbow just as Heather’s leg buckled. If he hadn’t caught her, he was almost certain she would have fallen.
Also, if he hadn’t caught her, his nose wouldn’t have buried itself in the frizzy hair bursting around the fringes of her parka. His arms wouldn’t have scooped her close and electricity wouldn’t have sizzled through him as their bodies came together.
He felt her pulse pounding and her breathing quicken. The heat of their responses seared away the chill.
“I don’t know what happened,” Heather said breathlessly. “My feet must have fallen asleep.”
“Put your hands around my neck.” Hesitantly, she obeyed. Jason slid an arm beneath her and gathered her against his chest. “Hang on.”
“You’re not really going to carry me!”
“It sure looks that way, doesn’t it?” he replied, cherishing the weight and the softness of her.
“You’ll never make it.” Heather clung to him, either from tenderness or fear. He hoped it was the former.
“Fortunately, you’re half my size.” In Jason’s current heated state, he had no trouble blazing a path across the snow and into the house. If he’d checked back, he was sure he’d see a path of melted slush.
In the entryway, he lowered Heather to the floor but maintained a tight grip. For support, he told himself.
As a doctor, he knew he ought to wrap her in blankets and bring her a hot drink to restore her temperature. There was a better way to warm up, however. Quicker, too.
“What are you doing?” Heather whispered as he unzipped her parka and slipped his hands inside.
“Frostbite therapy.” Jason’s mouth found hers, steaming away the coolness and arousing the heat within.
For a heartbeat, Heather resisted. Then her hand found the back of his neck and stroked the sensitive strip below the hairline. Her fingers followed it to the edge of his jaw as her tongue met his in a moment of surrender.
The only question was, which one of them was surrendering? Jason wondered, and realized he no longer cared.
IN THAT INSTANT, Heather remembered everything about Jason. The soft tickle of his hair. The probing allure of his kiss. The heady blend of aftershave lotion and male fervor.
Even though she’d been tempted many times these past few weeks to give the man a slap, an undercurrent of desire had underscored every encounter. She’d fought it, trying to deny his powerful appeal. Yet everything about him drew her: his confidence, his brilliance, his magnetic green eyes.
Tonight, in addition, she’d discovered a new side of Jason. He sang to babies, even if he did have odd taste in music. He’d proved resourceful in the kitchen and playful in the snow. And he fit into her embrace as if he’d been born for it.
They stumbled up the stairs together, pausing at the halfway point for another kiss. Ruefully, Heather reflected that she was probably going to regret this. Oh, well. If she never did anything she regretted, wouldn’t life be boring?
Standing two steps above Jason brought her face-to-face with him. “I like being your height for a change,” she teased.
“I like it, too.” He unfastened the buttons on her blouse and blew softly, maddeningly into the cleavage above her bra. When he smoothed down the straps and tasted her nipples, heat raged through her like wildfire.
Heather ran her hands across Jason’s muscular shoulders and down to his waist, relishing the answering shudders that ran through him. Boldly, she slid off her blouse and her bra, and reached for him again.
He trailed kisses down her throat. When his hands claimed her breasts, she sank onto the stairs and had to grab a baluster to keep from sliding down.
“Maybe we should…” The words died in Heather’s throat as her slacks and panties disappeared into the void below. “I mean, the bed might be more…”
“Who needs a bed?” growled Jason.
Laughter bubbled inside her. If she’d known how much fun he could be, her disappointment on finding him asleep in Atlanta would have been even keener.
A moment later, his own clothes followed hers over the railing. Despite the discomfort of the stairs beneath her, Heather enjoyed a sense of daring.
Jason moved like a tiger, his body rubbing hers sensuously. Heather felt the teeth beneath his lips and the urgency of his hands gripping her bottom as he lifted her to him. The riser digging into her back provided only a faint counterpoint to the reactions rioting through the rest of her.
“We should…” Take precautions.
“…never stop,” he finished. Poising overhead, he filled her easily, completely, with himself. A gasp spun from Heather. When he pulled out, she missed him.
“Do that again.”
“My pleasure.” Holding her hips, he entered her once more. This time the sensation was gentler, yet, if anything, more intense. Heather moaned.
Brushing a kiss across her nose, Jason moved in and out. He threw his head back and, with lids lowered, lost himself in sheer bliss. The pleasure of watching him was almost as great for Heather as her own overwhelming hunger.
Forget caution. Forget how wise they were both supposed to be. Arching her back, she matched his movements with her own until the world disappeared and they entered into a steamy, private heaven.
Chapter Twelve
Fulfillment. Jason hadn’t truly known what it meant until this moment.
He hovered on the brink of it, fighting the compulsion to plunge over the edge. His entire being crackled with a single impulse, a single need. Yet every sense remained attuned to Heather. His sensitivity to her might have been alarming if it didn’t feel so absolutely right.
He was still trying to hold back when her fingers gripped his buttocks and she wriggled against him. A wall of pleasure sent him barreling off a cliff in freefall. Heather’s cries nearly drowned beneath his hoarse groans as they clung to each other, all the way to a deliriously soft landing.
They lay sprawled on the staircase, pulses thundering. The first word that scraped its way clear of Jason’s throat was “Unbelievable.”
He sensed rather than saw Heather’s smile. “We’re lucky Alexei and Lisa didn’t decide to drop by after all. This would be hard to explain.” Jason gathered her against him and wondered if there had ever been a funnier, sweeter, sexier woman in the history of the world.
THEY MADE IT to the bedroom at last. Lying with her head on Jason’s chest, Heather listened to the evenness of his breathing and waited for sleep to claim her.
They’d shared something tonight that ran deeper than a casual encounter. He’d felt it, too, she was certain.
She tried not to think about what might happen as a result. Perhaps, this time, there wouldn’t be any emotional fallout. Surely she hadn’t misjudged Jason’s capacity for intimacy.
A momentary uneasiness disturbed her tranquility. They’d forgotten to take precautions. What if something came of it?
Unlikely, she told herself. As an infertility doctor, she knew the odds were against her conceiving from a single act of lovemaking. But it also only took one time.
A longing j
olted through her, keen as a scalpel. A baby. Would she ever have one to keep? To nurture a child through the miraculous stages of growth would be a joy almost as great as finding the love of her life. Was it possible she might have both?
Heather snuggled closer to Jason. She yearned to hear him say he loved her. She ached to see the same light in his face tomorrow morning that had been there tonight, to know that he treasured her beyond reason.
Keeping that hope in mind, she relaxed and fell asleep.
JASON AWOKE to an early-morning glow filtering through the skylight. Despite a few twinges in his temples from the wine he’d drunk last night, he was bursting with energy.
During the night, Heather had rolled away from him. He smiled at the sight of her slender back and a couple of freckles visible on one shoulder. She was his snow angel and his sun sprite at the same time.
Remembering that they weren’t alone, he got up without disturbing her and went quietly downstairs. Outside, sun shimmered across the snow, turning its surface to diamonds. In the baby’s room, Ginger lay sleeping, a tiny copy of her mother.
Moisture blurred Jason’s gaze. What more could a man ask than this peaceful oneness with his family? And why had it taken him so long to realize it?
Upstairs again, he found Heather blinking herself awake. “Ginger’s still in slumberland.” Slipping into bed, he pulled the sheets and quilt over his legs.
“Thanks for checking.” She watched him uncertainly.
He mulled over whether to kiss any trace of unhappiness from her face, and reluctantly concluded that honest discussion was a wiser course. “Is something worrying you?”
“I was afraid you might snap at me,” she said. “Like last time.”
“I was an idiot last time.” That was putting it mildly, he thought. The man he’d been in Atlanta a mere fifteen months ago seemed like a complete stranger. “I can’t believe my brain blocked out the memory of making love to you. Last night was incredible, yet I’d have sworn it was our first time.”
“It was our first time.” A familiar pucker formed between Heather’s eyebrows. “I thought we’d gotten that straight.”
Prognosis: A Baby? Maybe Page 14
