by Sun Chara
Stan heaved a breath, his lips still pressed to hers; Stella wriggled beneath him. He broke the kiss and traced her swollen lips with his thumb. Air buzzed with erotic energy, heat pulsed … he held her gaze for another heartbeat, then let her go.
“Coming, Troy,” he called, swiping hair off his brow. “Stella …” He reached for her but she shook her head, avoiding his eyes.
Sexual awareness sizzled.
He muttered an oath and strode from the room.
A whimper filled her ears. It came from her. Trembling, she shuffled off the sofa, zipped up her sweatshirt and patted her hair in place. She touched her lips with her fingertips. A flush flamed her face. Whatever had possessed her to behave in that way? She didn’t even like the man, did she?
After a pause, she plodded up the stairs and gripped the banister, lest her legs give out on her. When she drew close to Troy’s door, her step faltered. She took a deep breath and her training kicked in. A best defense was an offense. She licked her lips, his taste still upon her mouth … she moaned. Swallowing the emotion away, she stepped into the room.
Stan sat on the edge of the bed, watching Troy playing with toy cars, but the moment she walked in, he pinned her with his searching gaze.
Silence thickened, vibrating with unspoken innuendo.
Stella almost turned and ran. Almost. She’d never run from a challenge, and she’d not do it now. Even if this was different … treading unchartered waters … more dangerous. Fear and joy pulsed through her. Even if this challenge involved her heart.
“Come on, Troy,” she said, plundering the silence, yet not looking at Stan. “Time for your first lesson.”
While Troy dumped his toys in the box, Stan hauled himself up and stepped closer, sexual energy crackling between them. “You did very well for your first lesson, spitfire.” He hooked a stray curl behind her ear.
His provocative words became the gauntlet he laid down, yet his tender touch confused her. Until she got clearance of what he was about, she could do only one thing. She picked up the gauntlet.
Chapter 6
Stella spent the next hour and a half with Troy in the gym behind the lodge. It included a sauna, a pool, a Jacuzzi and weight-training apparatus. Stan’s regular work-outs explained how he kept in such good physical shape. As much as she resisted, her thoughts kept drifting back to the intimacies they shared in his office. His male scent seemed to have imbedded in her skin and his taste lingered upon her lips. The memory still had the power to make her go weak at the knees and catch her breath.
A nervous chuckle, and she shook her head at such utter foolishness.
“What’s funny?” Troy sat cross-legged on the floor mat opposite her and wiggled his toes.
“Nothing, child.” But was it? “Karate isn’t to be used at random to spawn fights,” she began, hoping to distance herself from her unsettling feelings. “But in defense of one’s life and loved ones. Use it wisely and it will serve you well.”
“Who started it?”
“The Chinese and Japanese people.”
“Why?”
“Self-defense,” she said. “But for a short time after World War II, some Martial Arts were outlawed in certain parts of Asia.”
“Why?”
“Some leaders of the time feared they’d become militant—”
“I know what that means,” he said. “Army stuff.”
She grinned and nodded. “So, the masters, teachers—”
“Senseis,” Troy said.
“That’s right.” Stella ruffled his hair. “Masters, skilled Martial Artists immigrated and brought Karate to North America and the world.
“What’s Karate mean?” He tugged at his white T-shirt tucked into his navy shorts, his face enraptured with expectancy.
“Karate means empty hand.” She pulled him to his feet and motioned for him to follow her lead. “It’s defense without a weapon. Your body is your weapon.”
“Oh, this is fun,” he exclaimed. “I like it.”
After a few combination moves … punches, kicks, strikes and blocks, Stella led him through deep breathing exercises to calm and relax him. Soon after, she wrapped up the lesson. Troy stood and faced her, returning her brief bow; a sign of respect between teacher and student.
“Thank you, Ms. Ryan,” he exclaimed, his hot face beaming.
“Sensei Ryan,” she gently corrected.
“Sensei Ryan,” he said and ran out, calling for his father.
Smiling at his eagerness, she strolled to the pool. The water beckoned, and impulsively, she threw off her clothes bar her bikini briefs and bra and waded in, the liquid cooling her body. After swimming several laps, she floated on her back, feeling relaxed and at peace. She squinted up at the skylight, blinked, and her tranquility shattered.
“Snow,” she gasped, floundering. Quickly, she got her bearings and swam for the stairs to climb out.
“What’s your hurry?” Stan leaned against one of the pillars that held up the roof, his legs crossed at the ankles.
Stella slid back into the water, an embarrassed flush fusing her body.
“How long have you been standing there?” She wiped chlorinated water from her eyelashes and trod water.
“Long enough.” He allowed his eyes to roam over her, a grin playing on his mouth.
She sputtered and scooping up a handful of water, threw it at him.
Laughing, he wiped the droplets off his trimmed beard. “You’re in quite a predicament, my lady.” He feigned a bow and bridging the gap, extended his hand.
“Get away.” She threatened with a second handful of water. “How dare you spy on me.”
“I wasn’t spying.” His hot gaze brushed her rounded curves and his grin broadened into a wide smile. “How was I to know I’d find a mermaid in my pool.”
“What’re you doing here?”
“Getting ready to go swimming with my son. Quite a lesson you gave him, Sensei.” He winked. “Couldn’t stop talking about it.”
She treaded water like mad. “I want to get out.”
“By all means.” Stan waved his hand but made no move to leave, amusement twitching his lips.
“Are you going to stand there all day?”
“I find the view stimulating.”
A hot flush invaded her body, seemingly impossible in the cool water … she blinked at him. “Go away.”
“Say, please turn around, Mr. Rogers.”
She punched the water with her fist. “No.”
Chuckling, he side-stepped the spray.
Oh, blast the man. Goosebumps lifted on her flesh and her teeth chattered. “All right.” She sighed in exasperation. “Turn around … please,” she mimicked.
He arched a brow and stood his ground.
“You’ll get yours one of these days, Rogers.”
“Oh, I hope so.” His eyes shadowed, and her heart thrummed a dangerous tune.
Silence sizzled.
He leaned around the pillar, snatched a large white towel and held it open for her. “Come on out, princess, before you catch a cold.”
“Turn your head.”
He did.
Stella stepped out of the pool. “Tha-ank you.”
Stan wrapped the towel around her body and held her in his arms a fraction longer than necessary. “Go get dressed,” he said, voice gruff. He gave her a gentle nudge towards the changing room and followed her fluid movements with his shuttered gaze.
Her skin felt branded from his touch, and she quickly stepped under the shower in the hope of diminishing the effect. It didn’t work, so she forced her mind to think about her return home. For sure, she’d throw out this smelly old jogging suit and buy herself a couple of new, jazzy outfits.
Home.
How sweet that sounded … and safe. And at the moment, so far away. She wrapped the towel around her head turban style and hoped the snow would melt by tomorrow.
She stepped from the changing room and heard laughter echoing from the pool. She pe
eked. Troy was climbing over his father’s broad back and he flipped him into the water. Spluttering, Troy surfaced and came at him. This time, Stan’s strong arms held him at bay. Troy giggled and attempted to climb over them but slid off, splashing into the water.
An unbidden smile brushed her lips, then vanished.
Danger.
The man she determined to keep at bay was all too human, and much too attractive. Her heart skittered. She dashed from the room and yanked the outside door open. Snow flurries smacked her in the face and she slammed the door shut. Tasting ice crystals on her lips, she marched back to the swimming pool, her ire flaring.
While Troy played in the shallow end, Stan swam to her and hauled himself from the water, his muscles contracting. He stood with legs apart and gazed down at her, droplets glistening upon his bronze skin, pale curls plastered to his chest.
Impulsively, Stella reached behind the pillar, grabbed a huge white towel and tossed it to him. “Cover yourself.”
He laughed and the sound ricocheted off the walls.
“It’s snowing outside.”
He blotted moisture off his face and slung the towel around his neck. “So it is.”
“When’re Minni and the guys coming back?”
“Not tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s snowing.”
“I know it’s snowing,” Stella said, enunciating each word to hide the tremor in her voice.
“They telephoned about half an hour ago. Roads are a mess. Traffic jams all over the city.”
“They are coming back?” she asked. “I want to go home.”
“Couldn’t say for sure. Depends on the length of the snowstorm and when the roads clear.” He studied her. “Could be a few days or a few months.”
“You know I wanted to leave.”
“Yes.”
“We’re trapped here.”
“Appears that way,” he said but quickly reassured. “There’s enough food and fuel to last us for awhile.” He cupped her chin with his hand and gazed into her eyes. “What’re you afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid of anything.” She jerked her head away. “You planned all this.”
“Whoa, there girl.” He chuckled. “Could I help it if snow was in God’s plan at this time.” Thoughtfully, he scratched his fuzzy chin and glanced heavenward. “It fit my plans and I’m thankful.”
“Ooo, you’re the most infuriating man…”
“You’ve said that before.”
Stella took a step nearer and pushed him back toward the pool.
“No, you don’t, kitten, you’re coming in with me.” Stan grabbed her arms and pulled her with him, crashing into the water.
Stella shrieked, thrashing out at him, and Troy’s giggles blended in from behind.
“All’s fair…” Stan dunked her head in the water.
She spluttered up and splashed him in the face, “…in love and war,” she finished his sentence to herself. But with them it seemed to be a continuous battle rather than anything else … and she was glad as it acted as a buffer to what lay beneath their skirmishes. Something she resisted, and had to shut out.
Chuckling, Stan grabbed her, and she tried to swim away but her waterlogged suit weighed her down. She reached out and gripped the ledge to stop herself from going under.
“Sta-ay away from me,” she gasped.
With a wicked glint in his eye and a crooked grin on his lips, he stalked her and pounced. She squealed and slapped the water, bombarding him with spray.
He ignored her onslaught and pushed through, lifting her into his arms. “You asked for it, champ.”
For a moment, time stood still. He focused on her laughing mouth. A breath, a heartbeat, and he lowered his head taking her lips in a kiss that caused a tsunami inside her. He must have felt the jolt too, for he broke the kiss and abruptly set her on the cement floor.
Stella muttered a blue streak beneath her breath to cover the vulnerable moment. He dove into the pool, camouflaging his own reaction, and swam to his son playing with a toy boat at the opposite end.
Exasperated, Stella picked herself up and lifting her pant legs, trudged from the gym, puddles of water streaming behind her.
Upstairs in her room, she giggled at her reflection in the mirror. A drowned rat could look better. Then, she sobered. She was stuck in the middle of nowhere with a child and a man who was virtually a stranger. A man who rocked her world. A man who made her feel … more.
Suddenly feeling drained, she collapsed on the edge of the bed. Stan stirred emotions in her that she didn’t want to dwell upon. It was the way he looked at her, caressed her with his eyes in such an intimate way. When he’d held her in his arms during those brief moments in his study, it had been a revelation … and now by the pool, a confirmation. This golden giant had touched her heart and she doubted she’d recover from this interlude even after she was off his mountain.
A damp spot began spreading on the bedspread. Sighing, she stood and peeled off her wet clothes. She froze. Something he’d said flitted through her mind, haunting. ‘It fit in with my plans…’ She racked her brains … what else did he want with her? Shivers tore through her, and her teeth chattered. The sooner she left, putting this place and its occupants behind her, the better.
She picked up her clothes, stepped to the closet and stopped, a wry twist to her mouth. Except for the red gui she’d worn during her workout that morning and the soaked suit in her hands, she had nothing else to wear.
Deep in thought, she strolled to the bathroom, squeezed the excess water from her suit into the sink and hung it up to dry near the heat vent. An idea hit, and she hurried back to the bedroom. Pulling a sheet off the bed, she wrapped it around her body, sarong-style and secured it with a knot between her breasts. She felt vulnerable with her shoulders bare and her pink-tipped toes peeking beneath the folds, but she had no other alternative. Shrugging, she swept her hair high on top of her head and fastened it in a Grecian knot.
Hours dragged by. She couldn’t stay hidden in her room, and by six o’clock, gnawing in her stomach had her shuffling downstairs to the kitchen. She lifted the hem of her mock-up gown and gingerly stepped through the swinging doors. Mouth-watering aromas assailed her, and she smiled at the domestic scene before her eyes.
“That’s a neat costume, Ms … I mean Sensei.” Troy giggled. “Except, it’s not Halloween.”
“Costume nothin’, kid. Necessary threads, these.” She twirled around and modeled it. “But look who’s talking.” Minni’s aprons hung loosely around their waists and on Troy, it reached to his ankles.
“Also of necessity, ma’am.” Stan stepped to the stove and stirred a pot of soup. “Now, if you want to eat, grab a knife and start chopping.”
“Smells good.” She moved beside Troy and began dicing a celery stick.
“We too, are self-sufficient.” With a glint in his eye, Stan paced back and positioned himself beside her, the cutting board between them. “Like the lady who won’t let me forget how independent she is.” He raised the knife and sliced a juicy tomato. “But is it always enough?”
Stella scooped a handful of celery pieces and dumped them in the wooden bowl. “For me, it is.”
“We’ll see,” he whispered in her ear, slashing the knife through the French bread.
Stella tossed her head back and sidestepped him to the other side of Troy.
Stan chuckled. “By the way, if you want some clothes …” He inclined his head to the bed sheet wrapped so intimately around her body, his gaze riveted on her shoulders. Smooth as satin. He could almost feel their silkiness beneath his fingertips, their taste… He swallowed and averted his gaze only to stumble across her breasts straining against the material. Breath stalled in his throat, and he sucked more air into his lungs. In one swift movement, he could flick the sheet off her, scoop her up in his arms and bury his head in her bosom. Heat infused every muscle of his body—he was going hard. Abruptly, he slammed the knife
on the table and turned to the refrigerator.
“We have enough carrots, Dad,” Troy piped in, seeing the bunch in his father’s hand.
“Oh, yeah.”
Stella peeked at him from beneath her lashes. “You were saying,” she prompted, “something about clothes.”
Or the lack of … his eyes locked with hers but he didn’t voice the provocative innuendo. He tightened his jaw. He was not that far gone, no way. He’d have to get her off his mountain, pronto, before he did something he would later regret. Frigid air from the refrigerator slapped him in the face, and he came to. He shut the door and stepped back to the table.
“Check Minni’s room. She won’t mind if you borrow something.” Almost indifferent now, he brushed his eyes over her slender figure. “The fit and style might be a problem, but you can improvise. You’re a pro at that.”
“Of nec—”
“I know.”
She lifted the blade and brought it down on crisp lettuce leaves.
“On the other hand, if Minni’s clothes pose a problem” –he angled his head and raised an eyebrow— “you can wear one of my shirts and improvise with that.”
Stella held the knife in mid-air, then lowered it, chopping all the faster. “That won’t be necessary.” Her skin burned beneath his intense gaze. The intimacy of wearing his shirts, enveloping her in his scent would send her … no, absolutely, definitely not. What she needed to do was maintain her distance from him and keep a cool head. Yes, that would be wiser. She wanted to leave his fortress heart whole.
Huh! Fat chance. She paid the warning no heed.
“As you like,” he said.
After Troy set the kitchen table, they sat down and savored hearty vegetable soup, chunks of buttered French bread, salad, cheese and fruit for dessert. It was a silent meal except for Troy’s frequent outbursts regarding his lesson with Stella. He had them laughing and by the end of the last course, there was a cozy, party atmosphere, conversation flowing easily.
“Thank you, fellas.” Stella cradled the mug of hot chocolate between her palms. “I can’t believe I ate all that.”
“A good appetite is a sign of good health.” Stan reclined in his chair. “Apple?”
