‘Really they’re for people who want privacy or to spend time with nature. But this is as valid a reason as any. They’re about half a mile this way. Can you manage?’
Half a mile? Through the snow? But if it was a choice between that and skiing down then Flora guessed it wasn’t much choice at all. She nodded as convincingly as she could. ‘Let’s do it’
By the time they reached the first cabin the sun had disappeared completely and the twilight was moving rapidly from a hazy lilac grey to the thicker velvety purple that heralded night. Luckily both Flora and Alex had phones with torch apps on, which provided some illumination against the encroaching dark.
‘Here we go,’ Alex said with more than a hint of relief as they approached the pine grove. ‘Good to know my memory hasn’t forsaken me.’
The Alpine shelf was much narrower than the wide, buzzing nursery slopes and empty apart from the ski-lift way station. There wasn’t even a gasthaus to serve up beer, hot chocolate and snacks, which meant that once the ski lifts had stopped running the guests would have total privacy.
‘We built them in a pine grove, which means they have the advantage of shade in the much hotter summer months,’ Alex explained as he guided her along the path. ‘There are two in this grove and two even higher up. It makes them easier to service in pairs. But we’ve spaced them apart so guests should get the illusion of being all alone. In a fully catered, all-whims-pandered-to way.’
‘I like the idea of being pandered to,’ Flora said as Alex led her into the trees and down a little path. ‘Oh, it’s like a fairy tale cottage, hidden amongst the trees like that! A kind of sci-fi fairy tale anyway.’
It was a futuristic design, more of a pod than a traditional lodge with a low curving roof, built to blend into the landscape. ‘They’re so well insulated,’ Alex said as Flora stopped still, trying to take it in fully, ‘that they’re warm in winter and cool in summer—although there’s a stove in there to make it cosier.’
‘It’s gorgeous.’
It was, however, a little eerie arriving as darkness fell. Flora felt like a trespasser as they stamped their way through the snow to the door, discreetly situated at the side. ‘It’s as if we are the only two people in the world,’ Flora whispered, not waiting to break the absolute silence with the sound of her voice. ‘Like there’s been some kind of apocalypse and we’re all that’s standing between the world and the zombies. Or the aliens.’
Alex shone his torch onto the keypad and punched at the buttons. ‘Which would you rather?’
‘Which would I rather what?’
‘Zombies or aliens?’
This was so like their teen conversations that for one moment Flora forgot the cold, the ache in her ankle, the awkwardness of the last few days and was transported back to the roof of her house, accessed reasonably safely—although not with parental permission—from her attic window. She and Alex had spent many a summer night up there, staring up at the stars, discussing the Big Questions. Would you rather be eaten by a tiger or a shark? What would you do if you had twenty-four hours left to live? Were invisible? Could travel anywhere in time?
‘Depends on what the aliens want, I suppose,’ she said as she watched Alex swing the keypad open and extricate a key.
‘If everyone’s wiped out it can’t be anything good.’
‘No, but they might be allergic to something like salt water so we could do a mass extermination. With zombies you have to destroy their brains. That’s quite a long process. Unless there were other pockets of survivors around. You?’
‘Aliens would be cool. I always think zombies must reek.’ He pushed the door open. ‘Welcome, my lady.’
The door led into a spacious cloakroom with a flagstone floor. Hooks and shelves awaited, ready to dry out ski clothes or hiking jackets. Flora sank onto the nearest bench with a moan of bliss as she worked her boot off her sore ankle. It was a little swollen but not as bad as she’d feared and when she poked it nervously it didn’t hurt too badly. She put her bare foot on the floor and squeaked in surprise. ‘It’s warm!’
‘Underfloor heating. No expense spared here—and it means everything should dry out for tomorrow.’ Alex was stripping off without any sense of embarrassment, his padded trousers and jackets neatly hung up, his boots put onto the bench provided, his socks stretched out ready to dry.
Flora’s mouth dried. He was still decent—just—in his tight-fitting, thermal trousers and a T-shirt. But they fitted him so well it was almost more indecent than if he had been half naked, highlighting every muscle. Alex was so tall, so rangy he seemed deceptively slight when in a suit but the form-fitting material made it clear he was in perfect shape.
The last thing she wanted to do was parade around in leggings and her T-shirt, the wide straps of her sports bra visible beneath the neckline. But neither could she stay bundled up in her padded clothes any more. The pod was beautifully warm.
She reluctantly pulled down the zip and shrugged off her jacket. Alex had already taken her boots and socks and when he turned back she handed him the jacket as if it were fine, as if she were as comfortable as he seemed to be. But she couldn’t help noticing how his eyes fastened onto the generous curve of her chest, made far more prominent by the light, tight material, or how they lingered there.
‘I don’t suppose there’s anything I can change into?’
He looked away, a faint colour on the high cheekbones. ‘As a matter of fact I think they are keeping some spare clothes here for guests. I’ll...er...go and see.’ He backed towards the door that led into the rest of the pod, opened it and backed out, looking anywhere but at her.
* * *
What had he been doing? Staring at Flora’s chest like, well, as any red-blooded male would. She might and did bemoan her curves but they were pretty magnificent—and, showcased by the tight black stretchy material, had been even more magnificent than usual.
Or was it just that he was more aware of her than he usually was, than he allowed himself to be? Of the way her hair waved around her face, of the sweetness in her eyes, the humour in her mouth?
‘Did you find anything yet? Oh, my goodness. Alex, this is sensational!’ Flora appeared at the door and looked around the room, her mouth open in admiration. The main room was sensational. It was also pretty intimate. He had designed the pod for romance. To allow the guests complete privacy, to make them feel as if they were the only people in the world. The skylights were the only windows, allowing the occupants to look up and see the night sky as they slept, although summer guests could slide open the back wall and enjoy the outside from the wooden terrace attached to the back of the pod if they wished.
A small kitchen area curved around the front wall; just a hob, a microwave, and a sink, the large, well-stocked fridge was back in the drying room. On the opposite side a second door led into the bathroom and a wood-burning stove was cosily tucked into the corner, a love seat, rugs and cushions heaped before it. But the main focus of the pod was the huge bed. It dominated the room; covered in throws and fake furs, it was big enough to fit several people. Flora’s eyes settled on the bed and she swallowed. ‘Very discreet.’
‘Let me just look for some clothes and I’ll let the hotel know where we are. They’ll need to organise a cleaning crew to come up tomorrow. I know that Camilla is making sure every couple gets a night up here. She’s hoping these pods will be a big hit with honeymooners.’
‘Yes.’ Flora’s gaze was still fixed on the bed. ‘I’m sure they will be.’
Alex ducked out of the room and into the quiet of the bathroom. Not that it was much better, the huge oval bath, designed for two, taking up most of the central space and the walk-in shower dominating the wall opposite. What had he been thinking? If they had set off down the mountain straight away they could have got back okay. Now here they were. Together. In a place designed for seduction. It m
ade their hotel suite seem positively chaste.
Normally they would have laughed about it—and goodness knew that bed was big enough for them both to sleep completely sprawled out and never touch.
But these weren’t normal times.
The cupboards, built in around the sinks, held fluffy towels and, he was glad to see, a selection of warm clothes. He pulled out one of the hotel-branded tracksuits for himself and looked for something for Flora. There was another tracksuit, an extra-large that would swamp her, or a couple of white silky robes. Grabbing one of the robes, he handed it to her as he walked back into the main room. ‘Why don’t you...? There’s a bath or a shower. I’ll just get the stove lit and see what’s in the fridge.’
She took the robe with a self-conscious smile of thanks and walked into the bathroom. Alex tried, he really did try, but he couldn’t help watch her walk out of the room. The sway of her hips, her deliciously curved backside perfectly displayed in the tight leggings.
He stood there and inhaled. Get a grip, Fitzgerald, he told himself.
* * *
Ten minutes later the hotel had been contacted, the stove lit and Alex had raided the fridge for supplies. It wasn’t hugely promising—unless he was bent on seduction. The fridge held several bottles of champagne, some grapes and cheeses. The freezer was stocked full of hotel-prepared meals ready to pop into the microwave: creamy risottos, rich beef casseroles, chicken in white wine sauce. All of it light and fragrant. He’d have given much for a decent curry or a couple of bloody steaks. Substantial, mates’ food, full of carbs and chilli, beer and laughter.
‘I’m all done if you want the bathroom...’ Flora stood by the bathroom door, her eyes lowered self-consciously. She had washed her hair and it was still damp, already beginning to curl around her face. The robe was a little too big and she had tucked it securely around her and belted it tightly. But no matter how she swathed herself in it, no matter how she tied it, she couldn’t hide how the silky material clung to her curves, how the ivory set off the dark of her hair, the cream of her skin, the deep red of her mouth. She looked like a bride on her wedding night. Purity and decadence wrapped in one enticing package.
‘If I want...’ he echoed. His pulse was racing, the beat so loud it echoed through the room. Twice in the last twenty-four hours he had walked away. Twice he had done the right thing.
He didn’t think he could manage it a third time because when it came down to it he was only a man, only flesh and blood, and she was goddess incarnate.
He couldn’t move. All he could do was stand and stare. She took a faltering step and then stopped, raising her eyes to meet his. ‘Alex?’
‘I want you.’ There it was said. Words he had first thought at sixteen. Words he had never allowed himself to say, words he had made himself bury and forget. ‘I want you, Flora.’
Her mouth parted and he couldn’t take his eyes off it. Couldn’t stop thinking about how it had felt under his, how she had tasted, how they fitted so perfectly he could have kissed her for ever.
‘If I say yes...’ Her voice was low, a slight tremble in it betraying her nerves. ‘If I agree will you back out again? Because I’m not sure I can take another rejection, Alex.’
‘I can’t make you any promises beyond tonight,’ he warned her. Warned himself.
She raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m not asking for an eternity ring.’
‘This will change everything.’
She nodded slowly. ‘I think everything has already changed. We opened Pandora’s box and now it’s out there.’
He held her gaze. ‘What is?’
‘Knowledge.’
That was it. That was it exactly. Because now he knew. Knew how she felt, how she tasted, how she kissed, how her hands felt when they slid with intent. He knew the beginning; he had no idea how it ended. And oh, how he wanted to know.
And now that they had started they couldn’t just pretend. Maybe this was what they needed, one night. One night to really know each other in every way possible. What was it Flora had said just two nights ago? That they should have done this in their teenage years?
He begged to disagree. He knew a lot more now than he did then. No less eager, a lot more patient.
She still hadn’t moved although her hands were twisting nervously and her eyelashes fluttered shut under the intensity of his gaze, shielding her expressive eyes as he watched her. ‘You’re so beautiful, Flora.’
Her eyes opened again, wide with surprise. ‘Me? No, I’m too...’ She gestured wildly. ‘I’m too everything.’
‘No, you’re perfect.’ He took a step nearer, his eyes trained on her, the small room narrowing until he could see nothing else, just damp, dark curls, ivory silk and long lashes over velvet dark eyes. Another step and another until he was standing right there. Within touching distance. ‘Like a snow princess, hair as black as night...’ He twisted a silky curl around his finger and heard her gasp. Just a little. ‘Skin as white as snow.’ He brushed her cheek lightly. ‘Lips as red as rubies.’ His finger trailed down her cheek and along the wide curve of her mouth.
She stared at him for one second more, her breath coming quick, fast and shallow, and he could hold back no longer. He held her gaze deliberately as his hands moved caressingly down her shoulders, her arms until he reached her waist. He held them there for one moment, the heat of her flesh burning through the cool silk and then, in one quick gesture, he pulled at the knot holding her robe together. The belt fell away and as it did so the delicate ivory silk slithered back off first one white shoulder and then the other.
Flora reached out automatically to pull it back and he put out a hand to stop her.
‘No, let it go.’
Her face flushed a fierce rose but she stood still in response to his words and allowed the robe to fall away, allowed herself to be unveiled to the heat of his gaze. She stood like the goddess she was named for, fresh as the spring.
Alex sucked in a breath, his stomach, his chest tightening as he saw her, really saw her. She was all softness and curves, all hidden dips and valleys, ready for an explorer’s touch. He reached out reverently, to follow the curve of one breast. ‘Let me worship you, Flora.’
She nodded. Just the once but it was all he needed as he took her hand and led her over to the bed. They had all night. He hoped it would be enough.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘I AM ABSOLUTELY STARVING.’ Flora sat up, wrapping the sheet around her breasts as she did so. How could Alex parade around stark naked so unconsciously? It must be that public-school upbringing.
Not that she was complaining. Her eyes travelled across his finely sculpted shoulders, down the firm chest, the flat stomach and, as he turned, dwelled appreciatively on a pair of buttocks Michelangelo would have been proud to carve. No, she wasn’t complaining at all.
‘It’s all that exercise,’ he said as he disappeared through the cloakroom door, reappearing with a bottle of champagne, so chilled she could see the frost beginning to melt on the bottle.
‘Mmm, the skiing was hard work,’ she replied as demurely as she could and laughed at the affronted look he gave her.
‘Minx,’ he muttered. ‘It’ll serve you right if I let you go hungry.’
‘Did I say skiing? Slip of the tongue. Oh, thank you...’ She took the glass handed her and sipped it appreciatively. ‘This is delicious.’
Don’t be too happy, she warned herself. Don’t be too comfortable. This isn’t real. But it was hard not to be. It just felt so...so right. She should be embarrassed. This was Alex. Her oldest and bestest friend. They had just done things that definitely went against any friendship code but it wasn’t awkward. It was horribly perfect.
He touched her as if he knew her intimately, as if he knew instinctively just what she wanted, what she needed, and she had wanted to touch every inch of hi
m, nibble her way across every square inch of skin. No inhibitions—just want and need and giving and taking and gasping and moaning until she hadn’t known where he stopped and she started.
Flora took another hurried sip of the champagne as her body tingled with remembered pleasure.
And now she could sit there, her hair tumbling down, her lips swollen and tender, muscles aching in ways that she was pretty sure had nothing to do with her earlier exertions on the slopes, clad only in a sheet and, although she might not feel confident enough to wander around in the buff, she was comfortable. Usually she jumped straight back into her clothes after lovemaking but with Alex she didn’t feel too tall or too curvy. He’d made her feel fragile, desirable.
‘Look how tiny your waist is,’ he’d breathed as his hands had roamed knowledgeably across her body. ‘Perfect,’ he’d whispered as he’d kissed his way down her stomach. And that was how she’d felt. Perfect.
He sat down on the edge of the bed with that lithe casual grace she envied so much. ‘I could heat up one of the frozen meals or, if you don’t want to wait, there’s cheese, biscuits and grapes?’
‘Oh, cheese, please. That sounds perfect. Are you sure you don’t want me to help?’
His eyes flashed with wicked intent. ‘Nope, I don’t want you to get out of that bed. Ever.’
‘Sounds good to me.’ How she wished this could be for ever, this perfect moment. The fire blazing in the stove, the stars bright in the skylights, she blissfully sated, lying in bed sipping champagne watching her man prepare dinner.
But he wasn’t her man. And she needed to remember that.
* * *
‘Alex, are you awake?’ They had dozed off some time after midnight, blissed out after an evening of champagne and lovemaking. Flora had no idea what time it was now; the cabin was completely dark except for a faint reddish-gold glow from the stove.
Proposal At The Winter Ball (Harlequin Romance) Page 8
