Stranded with a Stranger

by Frances Housden

  He didn’t know what kind of game she was playing, but he decided to join in. He studied her intently, letting his gaze travel from the top of her head to the soles of her shoes. “Then you’ve been sleeping with the wrong men.” Kurt hunkered down and dropped the plates into the pan of water Chelsea had used to heat their meal. As he stood again, he asked, “Fancy a drink of brandy to go with that chocolate? Somewhere in my pack I have a flask, and if you’re going to act the sinner you might as well sample them all.”

  “Well, I had thought of making tea….” She hesitated, but didn’t look away.

  There was something going on at the back of her eyes—more games? When he played he played to win, but maybe this was one time he should disqualify himself.

  “What kind of brandy is it?” She tossed the question into the gathering silence.

  “Good stuff. Bill gave it to me. Said it was medicinal.”

  “I’ll get the mugs.”

  She was holding them up in front of her when he turned around with the flask. He shoved into his pants pocket one of the packets he’d found beside the brandy.

  He looked down into the blue mug and began to pour. The sound of the liquor hitting the bottom took him straight back to the night she’d come sneaking into his room at the tavern. He straightened the flask, flipping the lid shut as his eyes left the mug and the contours behind it filled his mind. His vision grew fuzzy as he recalled the feel of her curves in his hand.

  “This one’s mine.” Blindly he reached for the mug and tossed back the contents. Then he dropped the flask, took her cup and threw both mugs down.

  Chelsea’s bottom lip dropped as the mugs hit the floor. He took the step that brought them thigh to thigh, heart to tripping heart, and finally mouth to mouth. He wrapped her in his arms and gave up the fight to ignore the attraction that had made him scratchy and frustrated. And horny as a goat since he’d realized the consequences of giving in to the allure of the stranger who’d come looking for his help. Let her keep her secrets. For now he’d be satisfied with her body.

  The moment his arms enfolded her, Chelsea knew this was what she had been angling for all along with her quips about sex and chocolate. She just hadn’t known he would be so fierce, so thrilling. His mouth tasted heady from the brandy. She supped it from his lips, his tongue, sucking until she was drunk on sensation and wild enough to throw caution to the wind.

  The kiss went on and on, never ending. She never wanted it to end. Her arms slid around Kurt’s back with breathless haste.

  She hugged him tighter, felt the urgency of his erection pressing her belly. So what if she’d known him only a few days? The rough kindness she had met from him reassured her that even at fever pitch Kurt would take care of a more delicate partner.

  Wanting, needing closer, she hooked one leg around his while her hands worked at pulling his shirt and undershirt out of the back of his pants. Just to touch. She had to touch.

  Her hands slid up the wide expanse of his back and found a spot that made him groan aloud—music to her ears. Chelsea sighed as the sound rippled through the palms of her hands. “I didn’t know skin could feel so good, so warm and sleek.”

  “I always thought your skin would feel creamy, and velvety, like magnolia petals.” Kurt’s hands dived under her shirt. “And it does.”

  His fingers slid around the bottom edge of her sports bra. “Front fastening?”

  “No fastening. It’s a pull-on.”

  “Then I guess it will have to pull up.”

  She almost fell as his hands covered her. His fingers plucked at her nipples, and her breasts responded.

  His mouth was on her neck, kissing her seductively until her sanity shivered with pleasure. They went into overload when he slipped one hand down the front of her pants and caressed her.

  “I’ll give you a hundred years to stop that,” she whispered achingly.

  “Not long enough.” Kurt gently bit down on her earlobe and felt her squirm with delight. He drew back. “You taste so damn good, Teddy bear.”

  He could tell she was ready for him, hot and wet, from the moment he’d touched her below. He slid a long finger inside her, rubbing her with the heel of his hand. She pressed closer and he held still a moment. Damn it, he was shaking. He needed her, and he needed her now. Slipping his other hand around her back to pull her closer, he tilted his head back and released the deep-throated rumble of possession that had been ripping his chest apart.

  Her lips were warm on his throat, her teeth sharp on the cord of his neck as she fought for his attention. “I can’t wait. I want you now.”

  He started to say he wasn’t prepared, then remembered the packets he’d found beside the brandy flask. As soon as one problem was solved another cropped up. “Damn, we’re both wearing boots. They’ll take forever to get off.”

  “Mine are unlaced. This is no time for niceties—just one will do.”

  With Chelsea’s “Hurry up” ringing in his ears Kurt reached behind him and pulled off the boot she dug into the back of his thigh.

  “Look in my pocket. Protection.”

  “My hero,” she whispered.

  The wait became more agonizing as her slim fingers searched his pocket. “I thought you were in a hurry?”

  Damn, he wanted to feel her breasts against him, to see the nipples that had tightened in his fingers. He didn’t have enough hands. “I want to feel you against me.”

  “Next time. Lean back so I can cover you.”

  Her hands were at the waist of his pants. Kurt’s breath locked and held as her hand wrapped around him. Eyes scrunched, he shut out everything but the sensation of warmth, her touch. He shook at the intensity of her touch. He’d wanted Chelsea from the first moment he’d held her, and reality far surpassed anything he could imagine.

  Taking Chelsea at her word that niceties had gone out the window, he grappled with pulling down her pants. Her skin was hot as his big hands cupped her bottom, hoisting her up against him as he twisted. Heading for the nearest wall, he crushed her back against it and thrust inside.

  Hot, wet, pulsing, his climax was racing toward him like hell on wheels. He needed to slow down to make it good for Chelsea, but the way her muscles squeezed he was fighting a losing battle.

  He covered Chelsea’s mouth with his, filling it with his tongue as he thrust once, twice. On the third stroke he swallowed her moans, and on the fourth they reached the top and crashed over the edge of reason.

  Even as he spilled inside her he recognized this hormonal-driven frenzy had been madness. Now that he knew how fantastic making love to Chelsea felt, would he ever be able to give it up?

  Chapter 8

  The second time, they made it to the pile of mattresses and sleeping bags Kurt had thrown onto the floor. Their clothes followed, tossed in an untidy heap, and they were both un-ashamedly naked.

  Chelsea assessed Kurt’s magnificent body with her eyes, touched the long ropy muscles with her hands, kissed his neck and the width of his shoulders, shivering in awe at what this fantastic man could do to her. How he could make her feel.

  Had she ever felt more like a woman?

  Of all the men she had ever met he was the strongest in both body and mind. And for tonight he was all hers.

  She laid her hands on the sides of his face, pulling it down to hers for his kiss. As their lips met, he asked, “What’s my name?”

  “Kurt.”

  “Remember it, Teddy bear. I want to hear you shout it when you come apart in my arms.”

  Just the thought almost made her climax again.

  He sank onto the sleeping bags with her, holding her as if he never wanted to let go. It made her feel so wanted. No one had wanted her like this before. Not ever.

  A juniper branch on the fire spat oil into the flames. Out of the corner of her eye she saw sparks fly up the chimney. Then their lips met and the flames were inside her. A burning passion she hoped would never die.

  He parted her legs. She let him in, reve
ling in the weight of his body on hers. He thrust, as if laying claim to her, Chelsea, the woman under him. Making sure she’d always remember him.

  Squashed tight against Kurt in his sleeping bag, Chelsea sighed as she awakened, remembering the comfort of her big soft old-fashioned bed with its squishy pillows and feather quilts in her Paris apartment. They could stay there for days. Kurt had such stamina.

  He didn’t seem able to get enough of her. It was as if he expected them to say goodbye when they left the shack. But that wouldn’t happen. He’d promised to take her up the Southwest Face, and she trusted him to keep his promise.

  He had treated her with a courtesy she hadn’t met in a long time. Certainly not from Jacques, who hadn’t cared if she found satisfaction from his lovemaking. Of course, she hadn’t known then he was only using her. They hadn’t even decided on a wedding date and Jacques had been planning how to compromise her. Planning to pay one of his friends to ensure he came out as the wronged husband, with his pockets stuffed with Tedman money.

  Funny how she had managed to fall for two such dissimilar men. Chelsea found no humor in the thought that she might have married Jacques, and therefore, never met Kurt.

  “You okay, Teddy?” Kurt’s voice was relaxed and sleepy.

  “Mmm I’m nice and warm and pleasantly surprised that your sleeping bag could hold both of us.”

  His mouth breathed next to her ear. She had enjoyed the soft shooshing noise he made as he slept. Now he whispered, “Listen.”

  “I don’t hear anything.”

  “The wind has died down. Looks like we’re good to go.”

  “It’s arrived far too fast.”

  “Yeah, but at least we had last night.”

  She hated the finality in his tone. It frightened her. She shivered, but before she could say anything he had rolled over so she lay alongside him.

  “God, Chelsea,” he began. When he didn’t use his nickname for her she knew it was going to be bad.

  “You know it’s never going to work. Us. The way we met is against it. There would always be someone willing to point the finger. Money can bring more problems than it’s worth. Trust me, Chelsea. Even people who have known me for years were looking at me sideways when those rumors started spreading. I have no witness, no proof of how the accident happened. Only my word.”

  Air locked in her burning lungs at the thought of Kurt giving her up. Was she being used again?

  “Your word is good enough for me.” The declaration was as close as she dared come to saying she thought she was falling for him. Kurt had enough on his plate without discovering he might be breaking her heart.

  One thing for sure—Jacques hadn’t managed to break it. He’d only made her spitting mad.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Teddy. I don’t know what I did to earn your trust, but I sure as hell won’t break it in a hurry.”

  Chelsea fizzed with frustration. Her words hadn’t changed the stubborn set of his mouth.

  It had taken all her energy to prove she was fit for this climb, knowing that if she had failed even one of his tests, he would have turned her down.

  Then where would she be? Stuck at the foot of Everest, with the key she needed to save Tedman Foods fastened to a chain around Atlanta’s neck halfway up the mountain. That’s where her priorities should lie. Not in wondering where the next kiss was coming from.

  Well, at least she had discovered right away that nothing to do with Kurt was going to be easy. Forget sex, absolutely fantabulous sex, the best she’d had in her life.

  From Kurt’s comments it was obvious there was something he didn’t want to tell her, some reason for him to be almost paranoid about the damage rumors could do. Yeah, Kurt did have a secret—one he didn’t trust her enough to share.

  And that hurt.

  Then it made her wonder if he was in the least concerned about the secrets she was keeping from him.

  Kurt glanced across the room at Chelsea. She was shrugging into her pack. Their backpacks were much heavier than the ones they’d shouldered back from the glacier, and even though he’d taken the bulk of extra weight, it still bothered him that he had to ask her to carry more.

  “Can you manage?” He should have helped her into the pack, but the memories of last night were too fresh. Too hot. How could he touch her without pulling her into his arms?

  She patted the belt across her middle into place. “Teddy’s ready to go.” She grinned, using his pet name for her. Why had he even thought that was funny? It was the sort of thing that could give the extent of their relationship away to other people.

  Kurt was finding it hard to meet her eyes this morning. Not that he felt guilty over what they’d shared. Asking her to deny what they’d shared stuck in his craw.

  But how to make her understand without letting all his dirty family secrets hang out? Though he supposed if necessity drove him to it, he’d have to tell her about his father. That would make her think twice or maybe three times about wanting more from him than his services as a guide.

  Hell, he remembered the first time some TV documentary on bent cops had brought it all up again. The story about Milo Jellic had barely resurfaced when his brother’s fiancée’s father had done his damnedest to break the engagement off. It didn’t help that the guy had been Drago’s boss, as well. In the end her father had gone to the length of contaminating fifty thousand gallons of wine and blaming it on Drago. He’d blackened his eldest brother’s name in the wine-making industry. By rights, Drago should have been making his own wine, not writing articles and books about other people’s.

  He knew as soon as he spoke she was going to flash him one of those looks that said he was being a pain in the ass, but he couldn’t stop himself. “You okay about leaving everything that happened last night behind us once we close the door of the shack? From then on, all we have is a business relationship.”

  As he’d expected, her mouth tightened. He hoped once they began mingling with the other climbers at Base Camp she’d be more adept at hiding her emotions.

  “You don’t have to tell me again, Kurt. I get what you are saying. I don’t understand it, not unless you get some sort of sadistic pleasure from depriving us of a little harmless sex.”

  Hell, he would never understand women, but this one had a way of getting under his skin and making him squirm with anger as well as lust. “Let me reiterate as succinctly as possible. Bill and Atlanta were rich. You stand to gain by their deaths. I was there when they fell and died, but I had the misfortune to survive. All it needs is for us to start cozying up for someone to start whispering collusion. Now do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. Let’s hit the trail. Close the door behind you on the way out.”

  “Sure thing. We wouldn’t want the mice to get back in.”

  He let her get the last word. It was the least he could do, and since she was behind him she couldn’t see his wry smile. If anything, her remark highlighted the differences in the lives they’d led and the homes they’d lived in. Chelsea had no idea that mice didn’t need an open door to get into a house, even one built of stone.

  In just the same way he’d tried to harden his heart against Chelsea, yet she’d managed to squeeze in under his defenses.

  They got to Base Camp on the second day. The high winds had brought a lot of climbers back to the tent city. Steam and smoke curled up from myriad cooking fires surrounded by porters and Sherpas making the most of the downtime to sit around and talk.

  Almost all the tents were the same dingy yellow color, broken up here and there by a national flag—Japanese, American, German, Swiss—indicating which team had claimed a piece of the rocky landscape. Kurt couldn’t remember if he still had a New Zealand flag amongst his equipment.

  Passing the piles of cans and rubbish on either side of the track awaiting transportation back down the mountain, Kurt walked into the camp feeling edgy with frustration and cursing under his breath. “Where in all hell has Rei
parked our gear?”

  Chelsea tugged on his elbow. “Something wrong?”

  Was she never going to learn not to touch him? He shrugged her hand off by pretending to resettle his pack. “Every man and his dog is in camp today. If I can’t catch a glimpse of Rei we’ll have to wander around this lot searching for him.”

  He hoped he’d prepared Chelsea for the snickers and sly comments, and that she’d maintain a professional distance. Getting to the top shouldn’t be a competition, but there were those who couldn’t stand knowing that a good reputation for summitting meant more than money. Clients were willing to pay for the best. Well, they’d be laughing up their sleeves that his reputation was in tatters, cut to pieces by innuendo.

  “Let’s try this way first. Chances are Rei looked for the space he helped clear when we were here with Bill and Atlanta.” Damn, gruffness clogged his throat with choppy emotions he wanted to escape. He glanced down at Chelsea. She’d walked for a day and a half after a night of strenuous lovemaking.

  No good blaming his mistake on the fire and the warmth. Temptation in the shape of her womanly curves had come calling and he’d sunk into its snare without a backward glance.

  All he’d wanted was one night with Chelsea, and he’d had his wish. Now he felt as if he’d spend the rest of his life paying for it. He couldn’t see himself finding another like her. Every other woman would be fool’s gold compared to twenty-four karat.

  Heads turned as they found a route between the tents, and an occasional Sherpa or porter waved a hand in recognition. Unlike some of the guides who’d turned a cold shoulder his way as if his reputation might rub off on them, the indigenous population didn’t lay blame. If someone was hurt or died, had some misfortune that prevented them reaching the top, it was the goddess’s doing. Man proposes and the goddess disposes.

  Kurt caught sight of a South African flag tangled with a twist of juniper smoke from a dying fire ringed by stones. They wended past the site, carefully avoiding sharp rocks that had been removed to create a flat surface under the floors of the tents. Any one of them could cause a twisted ankle.