Passion and Peril: Scenes of PassionScenes of Peril

by Suzanne Brockmann

  Hey Mom. Lost my phone. Everything ok?

  She responded a moment later:

  Fine honey. How’s the book?

  Done, he typed. Love you. Talk later.

  Love you too. :)

  He set the phone down, relieved to hear all was well with her. Although the mystery of his reckless driving still remained, he wasn’t ready for the weekend with Paige to end. She’d shared her body with him, and they’d had amazingly hot sex, but he wanted more. He needed to convince her that his feelings were real. He also had to tell her his author secret. They couldn’t take the next step until she knew who he was. He’d have to tread lightly, considering her rocky past with that douchebag boyfriend.

  From where he stood, their future looked uncertain. He’d like to be in a committed relationship with her. His deadlines weren’t so tight that he couldn’t visit her often. She might be open to coming out to L.A.—or she might not. His gut clenched at the thought of her shacking up with another snowboarder while he pined away.

  Troubled, he put on his boots and her brother’s parka to step outside. None of the trees surrounding the house appeared in danger of falling over. A snowplow was making its way down the road, clearing the street with brisk efficiency. He noticed the shovel leaning against the side of the house and picked it up, studying the long driveway.

  Having grown up in Colorado, he was familiar with shoveling snow. He’d taken over the chore for his mother when he was ten. Their driveway had been much shorter. Paige must spend hours shoveling every week during the winter.

  Shaking his head, he got started, clearing the sidewalk first. By the time he reached the garage, his muscles had warmed up but his hands were numb. The cold air reddened his nose and penetrated the thin work gloves.

  Paige came outside with a coffee mug. She was wearing a black wraparound sweater and sheepskin boots. Her legs were exposed from upper thigh to below the knee, and her hair was adorably mussed.

  She took a sip of her coffee, nodding at his work. “In a hurry to leave?”

  It hadn’t occurred to him that clearing the driveway would give her that impression. “No,” he said, chagrined. “I wanted to do you a favor. You must spend half the winter shoveling.”

  “I pay for snow service, actually. They’ll be here after the road opens.”

  He balanced his arm on the handle of the shovel, studying her amused face. She was glad he didn’t want to leave. His heart thudded in his chest, thumping like the tail of an eager dog. “I guess I’m wasting my time, then.”

  “Well, you look great.”

  “Maybe I should remove my shirt.”

  “I’ll get my camera.”

  He grinned at her and she grinned back, taking another sip of coffee. The moment was so sharp and bright it almost made him ache with happiness. If he wasn’t careful, he’d fall in love with her.

  “Why don’t you come inside where it’s warm?” she asked, tracing a fingertip along the plunging neckline of her sweater.

  He wondered what she was wearing under it.

  “I’ll just finish this section,” he said, dragging his gaze up to her face. He needed some time to reflect on his feelings without any distractions. Maybe he was under the influence of extreme lust.

  She loosened the soft knit tie at her waist. Her sweater fell open, revealing her nudity. Bare breasts. No panties. Jesus.

  Although she couldn’t be seen from the road, which wasn’t clear in any case, Colin glanced around the snow-covered woods to make sure they were alone. No one was walking their dog around the lake or lurking nearby.

  Even so, standing naked in the cold sunshine was a damned bold move. His body heartily approved; blood rushed to his groin. Something about the sight of her in boots and a fuzzy sweater, semicovered but fully exposed, made him rock hard. Knowing she was doing this to turn him on heightened his arousal.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” she said, going back inside.

  He let the shovel drop and followed her, shrugging out of the borrowed parka and using his teeth to tear off his gloves. She met him with a kiss, her arms curled around his neck. He kicked the door shut and slipped his hands inside her sweater. Groaning, he plunged his tongue into her mouth and cupped her bare ass, lifting her against his erection. His clothed form pressed into her naked one. Her skin was so warm, her mouth so hot and delicious.

  He couldn’t get enough of her.

  Panting, he slid his middle finger into her tempting heat, penetrating her from behind. She felt like molten honey.

  “Your hands are so cold,” she gasped, breaking the kiss.

  He withdrew at once. “Sorry.”

  “I guess I’ll have to do the honors.” She removed a condom from the pocket of her sweater and placed it on the kitchen table. Then she brought her palm to his stiff erection, squeezing him through the denim.

  He yanked his shirt over his head, eager to help.

  With deliberate slowness, she released the buttons on his fly and reached inside his shorts to stroke him, rubbing her thumb over the blunt tip. When he grunted with pleasure, she sat down in a chair in front of him. His cock jerked in her hand, straining to meet her parted lips. She glanced up, watching his face as her wet, hot mouth enveloped him.

  He’d been with other women this way, beautiful women, but it had never felt like this. The soft lap of her tongue undid him. She smoothed her hand down her belly, touching herself while she took him deep. He imagined her coming with her mouth stretched around him, her sweet cries muffled.

  God. He was already close.

  It wasn’t her technique or her beauty or her lack of inhibitions that floored him. It was his emotional reaction. She was incredibly sexy, and he loved this, but he longed for a whole-body connection. He wanted to claim every part of her, to make her his.

  She seemed surprised when he stopped her, lifting her up and drawing her into his arms. He kissed her parted lips, groaning with appreciation. Then he pushed her back onto the table and put on the condom.

  She braced her palms on the flat surface, waiting. His gaze raked over her quivering breasts, her sleek belly and passion-flushed sex.

  He entered her slowly, giving her time to adjust. She moaned and wrapped her legs around him, begging for more. When he was buried to the hilt, she crossed her booted heels behind his back. Keeping him there.

  He brushed his lips over the hollow of her throat, where a rapid pulse fluttered, and brought his hands to her breasts. They were still too cool against her warm flesh. Trapping her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, he applied gentle pressure. She squirmed beneath him, digging her fingernails into his shoulders. He squeezed tighter, making her breath catch and her spine arch. She felt slick and swollen, gripping him like a silky fist. He withdrew a few inches and then surged forward again, wrenching a gasp from her lips.

  He gritted his teeth as he watched himself slide back and forth, in and out. Giving her nipples another firm pinch, he lowered his hands to her hips, holding her in place for his thrusts. “Touch yourself.”

  Eyes half-lidded, she followed his instructions. With splayed fingers, she framed the place where their bodies were joined, feeling his shaft move within her. Then she brought those clever fingertips to her clit. Her mouth formed a sexy O as she strummed herself there.

  He thrust harder, mesmerized by the sight.

  She cried out, her hips bucking off the table. A coffee mug fell over the end and shattered, spilling hot liquid all over the ground.

&nbs
p; Colin tangled his hands in her hair and surrendered to his need to dominate. He pounded into her with rough strokes, his buttocks flexing. Her breasts jiggled from the impact and the table legs scraped across the tile floor. He came with a hoarse shout, driving as deep as he could get on the last thrust.

  When he drifted back down to earth, he raised his head, hoping she didn’t mind his loss of control at the end.

  She gave him a crooked smile, seeming unfazed. “Good morning.”

  “I broke your mug.”

  “Mmm.”

  He withdrew from her gently and went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. When he returned, she’d retied the sash on her sweater and was kneeling to pick up ceramic shards. “Let me,” he said, taking them from her.

  She left him to it, grabbing two fresh mugs from the rack. He swept the floor and mopped it with a wet dish towel. “You’re a handy guy to have around.”

  “Yes, I am,” he said, unable to wipe the silly grin off his face. It felt damned good to make her smile, to make her cry out, to make her come. He wanted a repeat session. Perhaps a permanent loop.

  But he took a cup of coffee instead, thanking her for it.

  “The internet is working now, if you want to check your email.”

  Just like that, his elation fell flat. He didn’t want to read his email or deal with the outside world. Tension vibrated through the back of his skull and settled in his gut, reminding him that he had a confession to make. “I should tell you something.”

  Caution flared in her eyes. “What?”

  “I’m Colin Reid,” he said, biting the bullet. “The author.”

  “The author,” she repeated in a flat voice.

  “I wrote the Paranormal PI series.”

  She set her mug on the countertop with enough force to make coffee slosh over the rim. Crossing the room, she yanked a hardback from the shelf. His first novel was there among the others. The second was on her reading device. Mouth thin, she flipped open the jacket and found his author photo.

  He winced in anticipation of the book sailing at his head.

  “You lied to me.”

  “No...”

  “You said you were Professor Reid.”

  “I am Professor Reid. Look at my bio.”

  She skimmed the short paragraph, finding the section that said he taught cultural anthropology at USC. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He cleared his throat, uneasy. “Since they started making the television show, it’s been kind of crazy. People treat me differently. You seemed to like me for me, and I loved that. I was enjoying the...anonymity.”

  “They’re making a show out of your series?”

  “Yes.”

  She slapped the cover shut and put the book back on the shelf. “Congratulations.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have said something sooner.”

  “What do you mean, people treat you differently?”

  “My last girlfriend asked me to introduce her to the producer,” he admitted, raking a hand through his hair. “She was an actress.”

  “Did you do it?”

  “No. I told her that I had no control over casting. Even if I did, I wouldn’t have felt comfortable using my influence that way. Things were awkward between us after that. We broke up a week later.”

  “And now you think everyone is on the take?”

  “Of course not.”

  She made a skeptical sound and crossed her arms over her chest. He walked toward her, searching for the right words and coming up empty. Being eloquent in the moment had never been easy for him. If he’d had an hour with a pen and a notebook, he’d be better prepared for this conversation.

  “I can’t believe you kept this from me,” she said. “I opened up to you about my parents, and Derrick. I trusted you.” When he tried to touch her upper arm, she jerked away. “This is why I don’t jump into relationships.”

  “Paige, please.”

  “Please what?”

  “Give me a chance to explain.”

  “What more is there to say? This is a deal breaker. I’d never get involved with a liar or a Hollywood big shot.”

  “I’m neither of those things.”

  “Why aren’t you teaching right now?”

  “I had to leave early because of a stalking incident,” he said, grimacing at the sudden jolt of pain in his temple.

  “Stalking incident?”

  “A female fan broke into my apartment. She also trashed my office at the university.”

  “You told me your students don’t hit on you.”

  “She wasn’t a student.”

  Her blue eyes narrowed with suspicion, as if she was remembering her ex-boyfriend. He’d probably been full of lies and excuses. Colin hated the idea of her comparing him to that cheating bastard. “I think you should go.”

  His gut clenched with regret. He didn’t want it to end like this. He wished he could confess his feelings to her and convince her that he cared, but she wasn’t in the frame of mind to listen. By withholding information, he’d broken her trust. Even if she heard him out, she wouldn’t believe him.

  Colin didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t refuse to leave. This was her house and he had to respect her request.

  “I’ll take you to your cabin as soon as the road is clear,” she said.

  He nodded his acceptance, throat tight.

  Chapter Eight

  FOR THE NEXT two hours, they hardly spoke.

  Paige just wanted to be alone. When she retreated to her room to clean up the debris from the roof, Colin followed. He helped in an unobtrusive manner, carrying the heavy pieces of lumber outside for her. She put some of the wet blankets to wash. As soon as she had phone service, she’d call a roofer.

  Studying the boarded-over hole in the ceiling, she acknowledged once again that she was lucky he’d been there. She’d woken up screaming, attacked by a killer tree. Disoriented, she’d flashed back to the accident. For a second she’d thought she was trapped under the branch in the middle of the road.

  She pushed aside that chilling memory and swept the floor, ignoring Colin’s attempts to make eye contact. Just because he’d swerved to avoid her, saved her from being crushed and given her a couple of explosive orgasms didn’t mean she was willing to overlook his deception. He’d pretended to be someone else.

  If she’d known he was that Colin Reid, she never would have slept with him. He already reminded her of Derrick. The fact that he had crazy stalkers and Hollywood-actress girlfriends made her even more wary of him. He represented everything she hated about L.A. All of the drama, all of the hurt.

  When the roads were open and her driveway was clear, they got ready to go. Paige grabbed her purse and put on her coat. She warmed up her Volvo in the dark garage, flexing her fingers around the steering wheel.

  “Which cabin were you in?”

  He checked his keys to make sure. “Seven.”

  “You still don’t remember what happened before the accident?”

  “I remember finishing my manuscript.”

  “When?”

  “Friday afternoon.”

  The accident had occurred in the early evening, so he hadn’t lost much time. A few hours at the most. She pulled out of the driveway and headed uphill toward the lodge. Before he skipped town, he’d have to talk to his insurance company and arrange for alternate transportation.

  He didn’t say anything until they were halfway there. “Can I call you?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “I’d li
ke to see you again.”

  She blinked the moisture from her eyes, furious with him for putting her in this position. He’d tricked her into letting her guard down, and now she had feelings for him. Messy, painful, heartache-inducing feelings.

  “This was the best weekend of my life,” he said, glancing across the cab. “Not just because of the sex, although it was damned good. I liked the way you challenged me into that photo shoot. I liked making candles with you and watching movies. I love your creativity and the way you speak your mind.”

  The cabins near the lodge came into view. She slowed down for the turn, struggling to stay unmoved.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he repeated. “I screwed up.”

  Paige frowned as she stopped in front of cabin seven. There was a red Mini Cooper in the covered parking area. “You said you were alone.”

  “I was.”

  “Whose car is that?”

  His face went pale. “I don’t know.”

  An ugly suspicion gripped her and refused to let go. That was a young woman’s car. “Maybe you went out and celebrated after finishing your book. There are plenty of ski bunnies at the lodge.”

  He touched his temple, not denying the possibility.

  “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “No,” he said, appearing flummoxed. “I would have told you that.”

  “Like you told me everything else?”

  “That’s not fair, Paige.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “I’m not him,” he ground out. “I’m not your ex.”

  She stared stonily ahead, her throat raw with emotion. Damn him anyway. And damn her for falling for him.

  “I’ll return the jacket.”

  “Don’t bother.”

  He got out and slammed the door, cursing under his breath. She shifted into Reverse and sped away before he could see her tears. Although she wanted to drive fast and reckless to match the awful tumult inside, she kept a steady pace. Her shoulders shook from the effort to control her feelings. A sob escaped her lips as she parked in the garage and hurried into the house, throwing herself on the couch.