Harlequin E Contemporary Romance Box Set Volume 3: Falling from the SkyMaid to LoveWhen the Lights Go DownStart Me Up

by Sarina Bowen

  “Anytime, baby,” Hank said, hitching closer so he could hug her. “Anytime.”

  They sat there on the hillside, holding one another as the lift turned in the distance, chair after chair crossing the blue sky. “You know,” Hank said, his chin on Callie’s shoulder. “I think I’m going to do Bear’s film. There’s nothing on his itinerary in California. But if you end up there, maybe I could convince him to shoot the last part at Tahoe.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Callie replied. “If it’s okay with you, I think I’ll stay in Vermont for a while.”

  “I’m glad,” Hank said. “Callie, don’t kill me. But I realized this morning that I’m going to have to drop out of the study.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll call Dr. Fennigan to explain.”

  “Don’t drop out, Hank. That’s not the answer.”

  He shook his head. “I’m still going to do the therapy. But I can’t be a study participant if I’m traveling for eight weeks this winter. Bear’s itinerary is pretty fierce.”

  “Oh, crap. Your parents…”

  “They’ll be okay with it. The study will go on without me. I’ll still ride the Frankenbike, and let Tiny do his worst to me whenever I’m in town. And maybe this makes it easier for you to keep your promotion.”

  “Hank, even if they take that away, I’ll be okay with it. You’re worth it.”

  His throat tightened up then. So he pulled Callie into his lap and held on tight. The several layers of clothing between their bodies were immaterial. He could still feel the warmth and the weight of her in his arms, and her breath on his neck. They were alive and well, and sitting on a ski slope in the sunshine.

  A year ago he’d thought that everything had been taken from him on this hill. But that wasn’t true anymore. Because something even greater had been given back. He felt heat behind his eyes, which only proved that he was turning into the world’s biggest sap.

  “I still have to ski down to the bottom, don’t I?” Callie asked abruptly.

  Hank tipped his head back to look into her eyes. “Are you scared?”

  “A little. Turning is the hard part.”

  “I thought landing the jumps was the hard part.”

  She slapped his shoulder. “Show off.”

  “Easy, slugger.” He caught her hand and kissed the palm. “Can I give you a tip?”

  “Sure.”

  “The edges of your skis can’t dig in if you’re going really slow. It sounds counterintuitive, but you have to take a risk at faster speeds to make it work.”

  Callie turned to look downhill, thinking about it. “Isn’t that always the truth.”

  “Pretty much.”

  She picked herself up off his lap and grabbed her ski poles. “Okay. Let’s do this thing.”

  “I can’t wait,” Hank replied.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ONE YEAR LATER

  Callie walked into the little screening room in Park City, Utah, and did a quick scan. There were seats for about three-dozen people. Callie didn’t know what she had been expecting, but it wasn’t this—leather loungers that reclined in front of the big screen, and gourmet treat bags at every seat. It was fancy. Yet Bear and Hank’s Park City friends, and the snowboard crew, still wore their trademark scruffy tees and beanies.

  There was never a dull moment where Hank was concerned. You never knew exactly who or what would turn up. And Callie loved it all.

  A few heads turned in her direction, and several hands waved hello. “Caddie!” a little voice yelled, and she turned to see Willow’s toddler bouncing in her mother’s lap. Beside them, Dane held their five-month-old son, Max. Since they were seated just behind Hank, Callie circled the room, dropping down onto the big double lounger beside her boyfriend. She gave Hank’s hand a squeeze, then spun around to blow a kiss to Finley, whom she had just seen at brunch an hour ago.

  “Hey, Dane?” Callie asked. “If he wakes up, and you need someone to hold him during the film, I’ll walk around with him.” For now, the baby’s chubby hands were curled into fists as he slept, and it took plenty of willpower not to reach over to stroke his soft skin.

  “No, you won’t,” Hank insisted beside her, patting the leather seat. “I need you to watch this thing to the very end.”

  Callie sat down properly and turned to him. “I want to see your film,” Callie said. “I just assume I’ll be seeing quite a lot of it this year.” The movie was going on tour to film festivals in some fun locations, and Callie was looking forward to using her vacation time to travel to France and Lake Tahoe with Hank.

  Her godson, on the other hand, was a limited engagement in Callie’s life.

  Hank grabbed her hand again and kissed her knuckles. “Humor me,” he said. “Watch the whole thing.”

  “All right,” she said, catching a glimpse of his dark brown eyes. He really hadn’t said a whole lot to her at brunch today. And, weirdly, he’d been reserved yesterday, too. Picking her up from the airport, he’d enveloped her in a tight hug. But afterward, the evening had been noticeably lacking in Hank-like conversation and bravado.

  Callie felt a little chill, wondering why. “You’ve been awfully quiet this weekend. Is everything all right?” It wasn’t like Hank to be nervous about the screening. That just wasn’t his style.

  “I’m good,” he said, turning his attention to the screen, which had just flickered to life.

  The house lights began to dim; Bear took a position at the front of the room. “Friends,” he began. “Neighbors. Sick, irresponsible snowboarders…”

  There was a hoot from the audience and Callie grinned. They were a fun bunch, and she’d enjoyed getting to know some of them during the past year.

  “…welcome, and thank you for coming out today to see the director’s cut of the film. Hank and I had a blast making this movie with you. This version you’re going to see today is the finished film, with the soundtrack completed, plus a few extra shots here and there. You’ll know ‘em when you see ‘em.” Bear winked, and then he sat down.

  The screen lit slowly, showing a time lapse of the sun coming up over a mountain, as strains of music began to rise into the stillness. Callie watched, wide-eyed, as the first snowboarders swept onto the scene, flying off a clifflike jump and past the camera lens. To the pumping rhythm of a Red Hot Chili Peppers song, the trickery built, until the riders were throwing world-class aerials past the camera.

  It was beautiful, but it left Callie with an uncomfortable sting in her heart. Her single visit to a half-pipe competition still haunted her. She wondered if that ache would ever go away—not just for her, but for Hank. He’d been so brave during the past year, getting outside with his pals, spending some time on the sit-ski, and even more time holding a camera. He never complained. But there had to have been times when it was torture.

  Next, the film went on to document a big mountain foray. On screen, the snowboarders discussed whether it would be possible to ride down two previously uncharted Alaskan slopes.

  Watching the film was a little like reliving the previous year. At the beginning, the work of filmmaking had been all discussion and planning. At Hank’s dining table, he and Bear had hashed out their ideas. In the evenings after her hospital shifts, most nights she’d let herself in Hank’s front door with the key he’d made her. When she walked into the room, his eyes would lift to find hers, illuminating with a hungry warmth that lit her up no matter how long the day had been.

  Other nights, they went out together. Even though Callie had lived in Vermont for three years, Hank knew a lifetime’s worth of secret spots. He took her snowmobiling under the full moon on the first clear, snowy night. Another time they drove an hour to an excellent pizzeria he knew in Chester. On one of her days off, they toured the Ben & Jerry’s factory, where Callie looked down upon the machines that stirred cherries and chocolate into her favorite flavor. “I’ve arrived at the mother ship,” she’d joked.

  “Not that you’re going to have another
ice-cream crisis,” Hank teased her. “But now you know where the magic happens.” They took a selfie in front of a statue of a Holstein, and tasted a brand-new flavor.

  Dating Hank was more fun than Callie had had in years.

  On the big screen, the snowboarders had made it to Alaska, and into a helicopter. Even though she’d seen some of this footage before, Callie held her breath when the chopper lifted away, leaving three figures stranded on a rocky peak. And she gasped when the first one hopped his board right over the edge, seeming to stay vertical on the snowy cliff by force of will. The shots were both breathtaking in their beauty and danger. When the camera pulled back, each snowboarder looked to be ant-sized against the vast, stony mountain and the stormy gray skies.

  The hardest bit to watch was the scene in which an avalanche began chasing one of the riders down the hill. Her grip tightened on Hank’s wrist until he finally shook her off. “Callie,” he whispered. “You just spoke to her.”

  “Oh, my God. That’s Stella?” Callie tightened her grip again, even as Hank chuckled. Even though Callie knew the outcome, it was hard to watch the avalanche overtake Hank’s sister, even if she did pop out of the snow a few seconds later, still on her board.

  What sort of crazy people did this stuff, anyway?

  Oh, right. All the people in this room.

  When Hank had begun traveling for the film, Callie had put in extra hours at work in his absence. But she managed to get away to Idaho in February when the crew was shooting there. During the day in Sun Valley, when Hank was busy, Callie took private ski lessons from a very understanding instructor. But in the evenings, Hank left the movie crew and their dodgy accommodations to stay with her in a resort hotel room that he’d booked for the two of them. Together they’d indulged in fireside dinners, fine bottles of wine and enthusiastic hotel room sex.

  If someone had told Callie the previous winter that in one year’s time she’d be headed for a posh ski vacation with her sexy, athlete-turned-filmmaker boyfriend, she’d have never believed it. It had been a great winter, and an excellent year. She hoped Hank thought so, too.

  But then why was he so quiet?

  Callie sneaked a look at him in the darkness. His eyes were on the screen, but he was chewing his lip in a way that was not very Hank-like. The film continued on, covering other exotic locales and sparkling athlete personalities. But Callie’s mind drifted, wondering what Hank was thinking.

  The summer they’d just shared together had been amazing, too. With the filming done, Hank was around more often. Hank and Bear spent long hours in the editing room, while Callie worked. But there was plenty of time for fun. They’d picked blueberries, and made another pie together. Hank took her to his parents’ house, where she had been treated like a queen by Mr. and Mrs. Lazarus.

  Hank took her fishing once, too. And although baiting hooks wasn’t Callie’s cup of tea, she enjoyed watching Hank reel one in. Hanging out with Hank was like living in an adventure movie, and she never wanted it to end. And it wasn’t going to, was it?

  Enough with being paranoid, Callie chided herself. The film was almost over, and she’d lost track of it, because she’d been too busy worrying to watch. Callie reached across the leather seat and took Hank’s hand.

  His fingers curled around hers reassuringly. “You’re going to love this next part.”

  He was not wrong. The screen dissolved into a purely white world. Into the silence rose the noise of an engine. And then a snowmobile drove into the frame, bearing a single rider. And on his back, a violin case.

  At Callie’s gasp of surprise, Hank chuckled beside her.

  On-screen Hank took out Willow’s violin, tucked it under his chin and began to play an Irish reel. The sound was pure and lively. And after a few bars of music, a hip-hop rhythm kicked in underneath it. That was a neat trick—she’d have to remember to ask him how they’d done it. But then the camera began to pan backward. And the view revealed snowboarders flying right over Hank’s head!

  The snowmobile was parked between two snow features: one a take-off ramp, and the other for landing. As Hank played on, a series of boarders launched overhead, whirling around, landing inventive feats on the opposite side.

  “Oh, my God,” Callie breathed. “That looks so dangerous.”

  Hank snorted beside her. “Nah.”

  The camera panned out again, revealing a heavy sky. Eventually, the parade of tricksters ceased. One by one they rode out of sight, leaving Hank all alone in the shot. He and his invisible accompanists played a rollicking finale to the song, with the rhythm section ending first. And then Hank finished the tune, allowing the final note to ring out into the wind. On screen, it had just begun to snow.

  Hank took the violin from his chin and stared up into the flakes. He packed the instrument in the case, and then slung it on his back. Then he cranked the snowmobile to life. With a tilt of his head, he circled the machine around in a wide arc. And before Callie could quite anticipate it, he gunned the engine. The snowmobile raced up the trick ramp. Callie stopped breathing as Hank launched the machine into the air. The film slowed down, drawing out the arc of his flight. The camera angle shifted to take in the sailing machinery from below.

  The landing was accompanied by a sickening bounce. But Hank drove on, oblivious, racing off into the distance. Here the camera sped up, showing the lengthy zigzag of his departure in double time.

  Callie was too startled to chime in as the people in the theater around her began to whistle and clap. She almost missed the fact that the film’s credits began to roll, because her heart was still in her mouth.

  Hank turned to her with a grin. “What did you think?”

  She hesitated. Careful, an inner voice advised her. But…careful is precisely what Hank was not. “Did you have to jump that thing?” she blurted.

  He threw his head back and laughed. Then he nudged her arm. “Keep watching.”

  Callie looked up at the screen again. The credits had ceased, and she saw an empty room. Hank rolled into view, stopping to turn his chair to face the camera. He held up one hand to an ear. “What’s that, Callie? Did you just ask me why I had to jump the snowmobile?”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Callie said aloud. And then everyone around her laughed.

  On-screen Hank wasn’t done. “Well, I’ll tell you why. Because I love risk. Almost as much as I love you.”

  Callie’s jaw fell open with surprise. And all around her, the audience said an exaggerated “Awwww!”

  “…Which is why I can do this,” on-screen Hank said. And then he reached his right hand into the air and began to write with one finger. “M A…” A bright blue line began to follow his finger, drawing in the letters where he’d put them in the air. “…R R Y M E…”

  Callie’s heart tripped over itself. Was he really…?

  “C A L L I E” finished on-screen Hank.

  “Oh, my GOD!” Willow yelled from the seat behind her.

  On-screen Hank finished his writing, and crossed his arms over his chest. Callie turned, wide-eyed, to look at Real Hank, who wore a crooked little grin. And in his palm sat a little velvet box in robin’s-egg blue. And in that box rested a gorgeous diamond solitaire.

  For several beats of her heart, Callie could only stare at it. “Oh, Hank,” she said finally. Gingerly, as if it might turn out not to be real, Callie took the box from his hand. “Is that for me?”

  He grabbed her, pulling her into his lap. “Who else would it be for, you dope?” He kissed her hair. “Marry me, Callie.”

  Still silent, she blinked back happy tears. Wow. Words were clearly failing her. So she cupped Hank’s masculine jaw in her hand and kissed him. Hard.

  She felt his chuckle against her lips. “Are you going to answer the question, lady?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, you’re going to answer the question? Or…”

  “Yes, Hank. Just… yes.” She kissed him again. There was a roar of approval from the other two-dozen people in t
he room.

  He met her lips eagerly, stoking the flame of her kisses into a blaze. But then he cupped her face in both his hands and softened the kiss. The tenderness she found there was just as breathtaking. He stilled his lips against her own, nuzzling her face with his. “I took you by surprise?”

  She nodded against him. “Totally.”

  “Good. Do you like the ring? If it’s not to your taste, you can choose something different.”

  The little box was still tucked into her hand. She gave it a tilt, and the low light reflected back to her from many facets of a square-cut diamond in a shapely, platinum band. “It’s beautiful, Hank.” With shaking fingers, she lifted it out of the little box and slid it onto the third finger of her left hand. When she held out her hand to look, it winked back at her, a dazzling bit of light that she wasn’t sure she’d ever see on her otherwise-unadorned hand. “I don’t…I haven’t ever sat around thinking about how engagement rings ought to look. You chose it for me, so it’s perfect.”

  He gave a little growl into her ear and kissed her neck. “So are you.” His arms closed around her waist. “I found the very best girl, and now I’ve tricked her into saying yes.”

  Callie smiled down at her ring. “I didn’t know you wanted to get married. You never brought it up.” Even after the beautiful year they’d just shared, her heart whispered doubts to her sometimes. She hoped the proposal wasn’t an impulse he’d regret later.

  “I like to shoot first and ask questions later, Callie. If you said no, or said you weren’t sure, I figured we’d talk about it then. I could try to change your mind.”

  “Risky,” Callie teased, nuzzling him. His unusual silence made sense now. “You were nervous. And here I thought you were fearless.”

  “Naw,” Hank chuckled. “Everybody gets nervous. It’s just that I don’t let it stop me.”

  “Pssst!” Willow cleared her throat. “Can I see that ring, yet? I’m dying, here.” Callie reached back to put her hand over the back of the seat. “Oooh! It’s so you, Callie. Classy.”

  “Okay, she’s invited to the wedding,” Hank said.