Pregnant.
His guts twisted as he made himself keep that little fact up-front and centre. But it had been so hard not to wake her with a kiss, even harder not to kiss her when she’d blinked, all soft and sleepy—and he’d thought he’d seen heat behind those pink lenses. So he was mad with her, with himself, with this mess.
He’d thought sorting out the house might help. But so far it wasn’t because the proximity to her made those weeks of fevered dreams in Canada seem like a saunter on warm sand in summer. To be with her now and not with her was nothing but torture. ‘I stay in hotels wherever I am.’ Hell, he should be in one now. In an ice-cold shower.
‘What about the lodge?’
‘Karearea?’
She nodded.
So she had done some research on him. What did she think she knew? ‘That’s a hotel, too.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t tend to stay there much and when I do I’m just in a guest room.’
‘But it’s your home, right?’
He shifted on his chair. He didn’t think of it like that. Home wasn’t a concept he really got. The most comfortable he felt was when he was on the move—on a snowboard, a skateboard, whatever. ‘I have a manager to run it. A manager to run the ski field. I’m there a lot in the season. But it’s…you know it’s just a business.’
He’d been moving from the moment he’d been born, travelling with his dad while he organized all those expeditions for everyone else. The thought of stopping any one place for too long gave him hives. He needed freedom. But he also needed fulfillment. That was some of the drive in his sport—physical achievement filled the sense of emptiness that sometimes swept over him. It gave him focus. But it was another kind of physical satisfaction he wanted now.
‘The lodge was my father’s plan,’ he explained, trying to keep his thoughts in check and not shove the plates to the floor and tumble her onto the table. ‘He died before it was finished. So I finished it and got someone to run it. It was an old club field and the club couldn’t afford the upkeep any more. It was too remote and they didn’t have the resources to put in something that could make it pay. But the mountain is beautiful. The old lift gets you to the top and there’s no easy way down.’ He managed to grin as he thought of the challenge of those slopes. ‘Just a lot of killer options. All advanced or expert level.’
‘It’s your playground.’
‘Sure.’ And it was. How he wished he could be there now—fully fit and able to burn some of this frustration off. Anything to tire him out and stop him wanting her so much. ‘We have some jumps and boxes and stuff. We put in a half pipe each season.’
‘And now it pays.’
‘With the lodge it does,’ he agreed. ‘We’re not competing with the big commercial ski fields. We don’t want thousands on the snow every day. The pleasure is being the first to shred it after a storm. That’s what our clients are paying for.’
The exclusive, high-end of the market who could helicopter in and out and afford the exorbitant rates of the super-luxe lodge. He liked limiting the numbers of people up there—it was too beautiful to be overrun. ‘A lot of the internationals like to come and train there because it’s private,’ he added. ‘It’s not all about who can afford it. It’s about having a place where you’ve got the space and opportunity to push the limits.’
The international athletes like him. Kelsi nodded, trying to get her head around his oh-so-exclusive world. So he dropped in during the season and then followed the best snow to the other side of the world when summer came here? What a life—chasing your passion like that. Jealousy prickled. So few people had that kind of freedom. She certainly didn’t.
But she had a great life, right? She liked the security of having her things around her—beautiful, interesting things and a calm, happy, peaceful life…
But that little twist was already there—worming its way in deeper. Had she missed out on excitement? She’d done nothing but study hard and aim for a good job. Playing it safe all the way. Delaying any plans for travel until she’d established her career. As her mother had encouraged.
It was the right thing to do—and Kelsi had always wanted to do the right thing for her mother. She couldn’t compete for her father’s attention with her looks, but her academic success had secured her mother’s. Kelsi had never wanted to risk losing that approval by sliding off the rails. So she’d never taken a risk at all.
Only now she’d gone off track completely—by accident. And it was too late for any of Jack’s globetrotting kind of adventure. In a few months, life was going to be nothing but nappies.
She turned to see Jack putting the dishes into the mini-dishwasher. Wiping down the bench and scooping up a bag of rubbish to get rid of—the picture of masculine domesticity. Except he was doing it with a kind of vicious efficiency—as if he couldn’t wait to get out of there. Her limbs ached as she watched him—tall, lean, horribly handsome. Out of her league handsome. If she hadn’t run him over, their paths would never have crossed. Now he’d made sure she’d eaten, he didn’t want to stay any longer. It was all uneasy concern—making sure she was OK because he felt obligated.
He was just making the friend effort—thinking it was going to make this mess easier. But he wasn’t going to try for anything more between them either. No looks, no touches, no kisses. She was stupid to be so disappointed. It wasn’t as if it were a surprise. She wasn’t anything like those women who hung out on the slopes. She wasn’t beautiful or bubbly or super athletic as they were—she didn’t tick even one of those boxes, let alone all three.
Men in general didn’t find her pretty, so a sex god like him most definitely wouldn’t. The afternoon they’d shared had just been a time-filler for him. And that kiss last night? Tactics. Pure and simple. He hadn’t liked her trying to shut him out. Thank goodness she’d pushed him away and saved herself the humiliation of having him know how desperate she was for him.
‘Thanks for letting me use the kitchen,’ he said roughly.
She nodded and stared hard at her orange juice. She didn’t want to look at him any more—not with those long legs or the tee that skimmed those abs or the relaxed attitude that tormented her. And with the adventurous streak that all of a sudden she was jealous of.
‘Get some sleep.’ He all but sprinted to the door.
Her hand tightened on the glass. Great. Nothing but paternal concern—when she was so wired with want she was about to burst.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A WHOLE ton of people arrived way too early in the morning making chainsaw-next-door noise—literally. Less than thrilled, Kelsi staggered out of bed. Despite her early evening exhaustion she’d only fallen asleep just as the bird’s dawn chorus had begun. She put in blood-red contacts—to reflect her murderous mood—and stomped down the stairs, slamming the door after her. She’d get to work and lose herself in the creation of something very, very cool and esoteric and new and totally not sport billy.
When she got home from work she saw the old wooden fence had been pulled down and six-foot construction-site fencing was up in its place. Hanging on the temporary entrance gate was a huge chain with an even more massive padlock. Jack was now talking with a man from a permanent fencing company, and a security systems man who had toolbelt on and screwdriver in hand.
She glanced at the house. Yeah, there was a little box with a flashing light near the front door. An alarm system had just been installed. Unbelievable. Had she really thought Jack was laid-back? He seemed to have developed overprotective tendencies overnight.
He strolled over to where she stood glaring at all the upheaval. He still walked as if he hadn’t a care in the world, his lithe muscles giving him a look of ease—but she just knew he could leap faster than a tiger, despite the knee. She was not going to let her bones keep wishing he would.
‘Am I going to need to memorise some twenty-digit pin number and provide a blood sample just to get in the gate?’ She jerked a thumb towards the towering fence.
‘Retina scan ac
tually. You’re going to have to ditch the contacts.’
She turned her glare on him as he laughed.
‘Oh, no!’ He mock-horror screeched. ‘Couldn’t let anyone see what goes on in your head, could you?’
Kelsi pressed her lips firmly together. She was not going to see the funny side.
He walked up the path with her. ‘You want to know what I’ve got planned so far?’
‘Not particularly.’
Jack’s muscles twitched, keen to haul her close and call her on it. No, Kelsi wasn’t going to show a shred of interest in the whole process. He’d never met a woman who wasn’t curious about anything and everything. And he’d thought of a way to tease it out of her. One that tickled him.
‘I wanted you to meet Alice,’ he said as he let her go through the front door ahead of him. ‘She’s over to talk through some ideas. She’s an interior designer.’
Kelsi’s features sharpened and Jack swallowed back the smile. Yes, darling, a designer—challenging Kelsi’s role head-on. If she was that into personalising her space, then it was time for her to get interested in the rebuilding project—and take hold of the damn olive branch.
Alice walked from where she’d been frowning through the open doorway of one of the downstairs flats. She was one of those glossy-magazine-type designers: all minimalist, neutral colours and nothing but the best in fittings and coverings—awfully nice. A bit boring, if Jack was honest, but in person at least she exemplified the absolute opposite of Kelsi’s crazy, maximalist, frankly weird, style. She’d hate this yes-woman. Yeah, he watched as they nodded coolly at each other, doing that quick sum-up-in-a-second look that only women could do. Jack had the irresistible urge to tease them both.
‘I was thinking about having a fireman’s pole put in so we can get from the top floor to the bottom super quick. I thought it would be a good temporary fix while the stairs are rebuilt but maybe we might keep it,’ Jack said, gesturing vaguely up to the top floor. ‘You know we’re gutting the interior completely so this would be useful, don’t you think?’
Both women turned to stare at him, mouths ajar.
Alice shut hers and opened it again, as if she were going to speak—but nothing came out.
‘Fireman’s pole?’ Kelsi’s voice was a little high, but her scarlet-tinted eyes sliced through him—and suddenly narrowed. ‘Great, you’ll be able to invite some of your dancing girls over.’
Nice hit. ‘Yeah, and I was thinking of red in the library,’ he said, loving the bloody look.
‘There’s going to be a library?’ Kelsi sounded amazed.
‘Why not? You seem to like books.’ He did, too. He might not keep them once he’d read them, but that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy or remember them. Whereas it seemed important to her to keep all her things near.
Her eyes widened but she shut her mouth. He heard her teeth snap together.
‘A library would be fantastic,’ Alice gushed, showing both her clear preference for that over the fireman’s pole, and her eagerness to agree on something with him. ‘Very now.’
Jack grinned as Kelsi stiffened—Kelsi who was so damn determined not to agree on anything with him. ‘I thought so, too.’
‘Will you excuse me, please?’ Kelsi mumbled. ‘Nice to meet you, Alice.’
Jack excused himself, too, leaving Alice to continue on her mission of absorbing the ‘bones’ of the house. He followed Kelsi up the stairs, trying not to trip on the eighteenth-century-length skirt she had on—complete with underskirt and overskirt. The assortment of clothes she wore to cover up her body was amazing. At least five layers, maybe eight if he counted the long, lace, fingerless glove things—and he dreamed about peeling every item, oh, so slowly from her. ‘I think she’ll have some great ideas.’ He tried to steer his mind back on course.
‘Oh, I’m sure she will.’ She viciously flicked through the stuff in the flimsy handbag that hung off her wrist, clearly trying to find her keys.
‘Maybe you should show her your place.’
Her handbag and teeth snapped simultaneously. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘You’re worried your styles might clash?’ As if he hadn’t planned it that way. ‘Maybe you’d better do downstairs yourself.’
Her chin lifted and she held the key as if it was a dagger, turning to stab it into the lock. ‘She’ll do a great job.’
Damn, she was on to him. Too obvious.
He leaned on the doorjamb and watched as she fought with the stiff ancient lock. Too obviously close but he couldn’t resist. Yeah, he still had the weakness—the unbearable ache to touch.
But now he could see her pulse thudding and her cheeks had gone as scarlet as her eyes. And now, despite the fact the door had just clicked open, she hadn’t moved through. What was she waiting for?
Him?
Pure masculine satisfaction heated him as the electricity arced. He could feel her awareness—yeah, the spark was not one-sided. He’d known it, but it was nice to see some more evidence. And how he had the urge to take advantage of it and torment her, because he was sick of being the one on the rack, of wanting, hearing, seeing—but not having her. If she felt even a quarter of the raw ache he felt for her, then he was going to rub some salt in it and make her suffer something of the way he was.
She deserved it—after all she was the one with the off-base judgement. And while he was bursting out of his skin to kiss her and strip her and do a zillion other things, he couldn’t.
Unless she caved. Unless she wanted. Unless she asked.
He seized on the idea. Oh, yes, he longed to hear her ask. But if she did, he’d have to be gentle. So slow and gentle and careful. In a single moment he saw it all in his head—how he’d hold her, how he’d touch her, how he’d stroke…
His body was so hard and tight he could barely speak for the pain. He burned to do it now.
But no. He clamped down. No complications—physical or emotional—remember? This was bigger than base needs now. This was a mess that needed sorting as soon as possible—he shouldn’t even be here. He had sponsors depending on him, other athletes relying on him and his own ambitions to realise. And he’d already ignored three calls from his coach, who no doubt was desperate to know what the hell he was doing.
He had to get himself under control.
He curled his fingers into fists, trying to direct the tension away from his groin. ‘You know I’m going to have to borrow your kitchen again tonight. They couldn’t fix my oven yet,’ he said gruffly.
‘No?’ she over-the-top exclaimed as bad as he’d screeched before. ‘You didn’t get that done first thing?’
‘Not a priority,’ he parried. ‘That kitchen is only getting ripped out anyway.’
She finally walked through her door, hesitating a half-second to look back at him before shutting it. ‘OK, but make enough for me again.’
He walked back downstairs, smiling grimly. At least he’d got an immediate result in tempting one type of appetite. And he’d make sure she stayed healthy—even if it killed him in the process
Kelsi kicked off her shoes and hit the sofa—end-of-day exhausted again and needing to redraw some strength to handle another hour of Jack.
Playing the happy couple building their dream home together was so not happening. Kelsi knew what he was doing—trying to trick her into giving an opinion, trying to tease her interest. But she was determined. She was not falling for his practised charm. Nor was she going to get used to him being around. Because he wasn’t going to be there for long and they both knew it. His knee would get better, he’d be off to some event. She’d be left holding the baby—literally.
And there was no getting past the fact that he wouldn’t be here at all if she weren’t pregnant. Not good for her ego.
She heard him saying goodbye to Alice out in the yard. Kelsi was sure she was lovely and all, but there was no way they’d agree on anything when it came to decorating this old beauty. Alice would want to put in all the mod things when really w
hat the building needed was to have its original features unearthed and highlighted. Kelsi didn’t want to witness what little character was left of the old house being neutralised. Still, she was sure she could rely on Alice to put the kybosh on the fireman’s pole idea.
She closed her mind on the X-rated images that popped in thanks to the ‘pole’, trying really hard to get over the lust thing. Jack obviously had. He hadn’t made even a hint of a move since the night they found out about the baby. Not touched her, not looked at her once the way he had that day in the sun. He’d been entertaining himself that day—that was fine. But once had obviously been enough for him.
Shame it hadn’t for her. Shame she was burning up.
For some reason she’d thought pregnancy killed a woman’s sex drive. Showed how little she knew. It only made hers rampant. Every other thought involved Jack naked and on the beach.
He knocked on her door only twenty minutes later—not nearly long enough for her to put the fantasies in the deep freeze. She opened the door and stood back; even so, he was too close and walked past. His gaze skittered over her, seeming to linger on the little skin she’d bared—her neck, her arms, her hands.
But he strode straight to the kitchen and started prepping–with loud, quick knife skills. His fierce concentration on his Master Chef mission was enthralling.
‘Are you always like this?’ She pulled a light cardigan around her body to hide but couldn’t resist sitting on a nearby stool to watch him.
‘Like what?’ He didn’t look up.
‘Like, so focused on whatever it is, making up your mind just like that and going for it full steam ahead, no diversions. No taking it easy.’
‘Sure. If a job needs doing you get it done, move on.’
Move on. And she was just another job, wasn’t she? Fabulous.
Walk on the Wild Side Page 9
