He was saying her name, too, as their bodies rose and fell, missed a beat, struggled and came together in harder, faster plunges. He lifted his head and watched her, his eyes shockingly blue, his lips drawn back from his teeth, the skin stretched taut over angular cheekbones.
When she fell over the edge of the world, she couldn’t have stopped the keening cry if she’d tried. His eyes closed, as if in bliss, and she felt him throbbing inside her as he thrust deep and held himself there.
Then his head dropped, his forehead touching hers, his weight on his elbows. With a groan, he flipped them both, so she was on top of that long, strong body, her head on his shoulder.
Amy lay there, loving the sound of his heartbeat, the way his broad chest lifted with each breath, not sure she could move. Dazed, she thought, What was that?
“And you thought I’d be disappointed,” he whispered.
This was the first time ever she hadn’t been disappointed, either. And—wow—she discovered that scared her, too.
A memory flitted through her mind, about that time he’d compared her to a wild creature he had been lucky enough to encounter. He’d talked about being awed, but it was the rest of what he said that she felt like a chill on her overheated skin.
You were a little sad, too, he’d said, because you might never have a chance like that again.
What if this—what she’d felt tonight—was her one chance. Something she’d spend the rest of her life dreaming about?
Because, no matter what he said, she couldn’t believe she could possibly be enough for Jakob. This might, in some kinky way, have been a fulfillment of his forbidden teenage fantasy. And if so...well, he’d get restless soon, wouldn’t he?
* * *
“I’D LIKE YOU to meet more of my friends,” Jakob said simply. He couldn’t figure out why Amy was resisting his invitation.
“I’m not really good at parties.” She twirled the straw in her chocolate milk shake and refused to look at him.
They’d had a fantastic day—at least, he thought they had. Snow in the mountains was scant so far this year; November was usually too late for most hiking, but he and Amy had been able to enjoy a short trail along the Salmon River in Mt. Hood National Forest. This time, he had insisted on outfitting her with good quality hiking boots, which he thought were cute on her small feet. Once again, he’d had the impression she loved the silence, the deep forest and glimpses of icy river. The air was crisp and cold enough to turn her nose and cheeks red—hell, probably his, too. The chipmunks made her laugh, and she was dazzled by a distant glimpse of a black bear that hadn’t yet hibernated. He’d have loved to spot a marten, whose clever, triangular faces reminded him of Amy’s, but those were rare in the middle of the day, as the member of the weasel family was mostly nocturnal.
Amy had been chattering happily during their stop halfway back to Portland for burgers and fries until he’d mentioned the afternoon party a couple of his friends were holding tomorrow.
“They’re actually barbecuing,” he’d told her. “They have a covered patio with one of those ridiculous grills that looks like it should belong to NASA. Big house, though. If it’s cold or raining, we don’t have to step outside. Doug’s the one who loves that damn grill. He can freeze out there by himself.”
The first words out of her mouth had been “Oh, I won’t know anyone.”
To which he’d said, “You’ll like them.”
The problem, he was coming to believe, was that she didn’t think they’d like her. He couldn’t figure it out. She wasn’t shy—she sure as hell hadn’t been when he introduced her to Bryan that night at Nostrana. She was constantly interviewing complete strangers and apparently winning their confidence to an extraordinary degree.
“Wait,” he said, something that felt like anger but wasn’t quite rising in his gorge. “Is this like you not wanting to tell Dad and your mom that we’re involved?”
She lifted her chin at last and her eyes flashed defiance. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re embarrassed to be with me.”
The color stung into her skin by the cold deepened as he watched.
“I just don’t want to be flung into the deep end, okay? I can deal with one person at a time. But a whole group staring and wondering...” She stopped so suddenly, he could see the skid marks.
“Wondering what you see in me.”
She snorted.
Goddamn it. “Wondering what I see in you,” he said slowly. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Oh, that convinced him. “Why can’t you get past this?”
The defiance deserted her, leaving her looking pinched and forlorn. “I’m trying,” she said, softly enough he had to tilt his head toward her to hear.
“Damn it, Amy.” His throat felt clogged. As usual, she messed him up—one minute he was pissed, the next sad, then happier than he’d ever been in his life. Sometimes, like now, it all got mixed together. He wasn’t sure if he was more patient with her lack of self-esteem because of the share of guilt he carried, or less.
He almost grunted, as if he’d taken a blow. What a self-centered bastard he was being. If she’d only blossom into a sunny state of complete self-confidence in their relationship, he wouldn’t have to feel guilty anymore, right?
“Okay.” The word came out gruff and small. “I’ll come.”
He reached across the table for her hand, which for once didn’t return his clasp. “No. I don’t know why I made an issue out of this. If it doesn’t sound fun, we won’t go.”
“You could go, anyway.”
He shook his head and retrieved his hand, not liking the cold, unresponsive feel of hers under it. “Everything we’ve been doing is to please me. The first time you balk, I sulk.”
“No, that’s not true. Everything we’ve done together has been fun. I always thought of hiking as sweat and hard work to see a view you could admire from your car, but it’s not. I loved today. I’ve never been in a corn maze, or gotten a pumpkin at a farm instead of the bin at the grocery store. You’re sharing your world, and I love that.”
“But you’d rather we stick to it just being the two of us when we go out.”
She shook her head, determined. “No, I mean it. I’d like to go. I was being twelve years old again. ‘Dad’s making Jakob take me and he’ll ditch me the minute we get there.’ Stupid.”
After a minute he nodded. What else could he do? Refuse to take her? “I think you’ll like everyone.”
“I’m sure I will. Maybe Bryan will be there.”
“Not if he knows what’s good for him.”
She grinned at him, and he hoped the confidence that let her taunt him was real.
* * *
AMY WAS “ON” from the minute he picked her up Sunday. She’d worn another of those sassy little skirts over tights and the knee-high boots. The belted knit shirt was more like sweatshirt thickness than what she usually wore; Portland weather had taken a turn for winter at last. They’d been lucky yesterday. Today was gray, dark and cold enough he knew snow was falling at only slightly higher elevations. She added a wool peacoat and gloves before they went out the door.
During the drive, when he asked if she skied, she made a face.
“Alpine. And that was a lo-o-ong time ago. Do you know how expensive it is? It was fun, though, except for the frost-bitten-toes part.”
He laughed. “See, the thing about cross-country skiing is that you’re working hard enough to keep you warm.”
“Oh, sure. I’ve watched the Olympic games. I remember this guy crossing the finish line with a beard frosted white so he looked like Santa Claus.”
He nipped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “By the hair of your chinny, chin, chin. We’ll put you in a fleece mask. Promise
.”
“Oh, God. You’re trying to turn me into an outdoors girl.”
She said it gaily, as she’d said everything so far, but he gave her a sidelong look, trying to read how serious she was.
“Say no anytime.” He made sure she could tell he meant it. “We don’t have to share all our hobbies.”
He’d braked for a red light and was able to turn his head to meet her eyes.
“If you ask me to go mountain biking, I’ll say no. I’d say no to the Portland to Seattle bike ride, too. Or is it the other way around? This other stuff, I’m willing to try. I’m not an outdoors girl because I never had the chance. Can you see Mom hefting a pack? Even Dad likes luxury when he isn’t tromping around in the baking sun on a job site. I never actually understood how you got hooked.”
“Boy Scout leader. Most of the jamborees—you know, mass camping—those I didn’t like. But I was lucky and had a leader who took our troop hiking, backpacking, birding, some minor rock scrambles. He was a good guy.”
“Was?” Amy asked.
His fingers flexed on the steering wheel. “He had a brain tumor. A couple of surgeries, but it got him. His son and I are still friends.”
“I’m sorry.” She laid a hand on his thigh, squeezed and then let go. His flesh preened at her every touch. To him, her hand felt red-hot, branding him through the heavy denim. His dick stirred.
Not now, he told it. Later.
Doug and Cheryl Leveck lived in a minimansion on a sloping lot above Lake Oswego. Cheryl was management at Intel, Doug an orthopedic surgeon. They were loaded.
Amy made some admiring sounds as they circled the lake, which was beautiful even on a bleak day. The town proper reflected the income of residents—most of the shops were trendy and expensive, with hardly a chain store to be seen.
“Ugly house,” he commented as he pulled to the curb in front of it. Half a dozen other vehicles had gotten here before them and clogged the long, curving driveway.
Amy studied it. “Not ugly. Ostentatious.”
“Yeah. I like Doug especially, though. I think the house may be more Cheryl’s taste.”
“Maybe not,” Amy pointed out, “considering that Doug’s the one who revels in his monster barbecue grill. Would you want one?”
“Hell, no!” He grinned at her. “You might be right. And those are words I don’t often say.”
He locked up. Driven by freezing rain, she scampered down the driveway fast enough he had to take long strides to be close enough to catch her if she slipped in those boots and went down. They were shaking rain—or was it sleet?—from their hair when Cheryl let them in, enveloping Jakob in a big hug. Other voices rose in greeting. Amy kept smiling.
Not a shy bone in her body, he tried to believe, but failed. Good at faking was more like it.
It occurred to him belatedly that almost everyone here was financially successful. That’s not why they were his friends—mostly these were people who loved the mountains the way he did. But maybe that wasn’t enough; maybe he looked for friends who also shared the drive that made him ambitious. Or was it a passion for something, that made them successful?
He introduced Amy around. Almost immediately, a face lit. Erica and Tom Riehl were winemakers who in only ten years were building a major reputation. “You’re a writer!” Erica exclaimed. “That piece you did for 1859 on the old fisherman was amazing.”
He had his hand on Amy’s back, casual but proprietary. He would swear he felt a subtle relaxation.
“Thanks. I’ve sold a couple of things to them. Even though they’re heavy on promoting Oregon and tourism, they’re open to interesting microcosms. I write all kinds of articles, including the five ways to make your wardrobe sexier ones, but my favorites are the in-depth portraits of people who have lived extraordinary lives.”
Doug brought them glasses of wine. Pretty soon, she was ensconced on the sofa holding court. As the only new face, she was under heavy scrutiny. He was relieved to have Alicia Cuddy grab the seat next to her. She was one of the few here who didn’t make big money. The director of a wildlife sanctuary, she was more into the outdoors than her significant other, Ray, whom he didn’t see here today.
Even when he left Amy for a few minutes at a time, he could hear her laugh, mostly the giggle. The guffaw required letting go, and no matter how relaxed she appeared he knew she wasn’t doing that. He wanted to think she was having a good time, but couldn’t be sure.
“Stepsister, huh?” Doug said, having asked Jakob to carry some of the steaks and burgers out to the patio.
“Damn it’s cold.” Jakob hunched his shoulders. “My friend, you’re supposed to have barbecues in July.”
Doug, who’d begun to bald, gave the grin that made him look like an aging cherub. “I fire the thing up at least once a week year-round.”
Jakob just shook his head.
Doug nodded toward the living room. “What’s the story?”
He gave the edited version.
“She’s hot,” his friend observed, “but not your usual fare.”
Jakob felt his facial muscles tighten. He didn’t even like the word fare. “Didn’t know I had a usual.”
“Blonde goddesses.”
“Bullshit!” Thank God Amy wasn’t hearing this.
Doug had paused with a platter of steaks in his hand. His gaze was sharp. “Susan. Jenna. Emily. I know there were a couple of others.”
“I was trying to punish Susan.” In dismay, he thought, Is that what I was doing?
“You’re in love.”
He let out a long breath. “Yeah. I guess I am.” How long he’d been in love with Amy was something he didn’t like to think about.
“She know?”
“We haven’t used that word yet.”
Expression softening, Doug slapped him on the back. “She’s cute.”
He almost reacted in outrage. Cute? She was a hell of a lot more than that. But then he smiled wryly. He liked Cheryl, but she was a rack of bones coupled with one of those overly pillowy mouths that gave him the creeps. To each his own.
He and Amy stayed until the end. She hugged Cheryl, and then Alicia, who left at the same time they did, staying animated until they were well up the driveway. Then she went silent. Jakob discovered he wasn’t in as good a mood as he’d thought he was.
“No Bryan,” he said, touching the button to unlock his SUV.
“Sad to say.” She hunched inside her coat. “Brrr.”
It was already dark. There was currently no precipitation, but he had a feeling the mercury was descending into freezing tonight. Wet roads might be treacherous in the morning.
Not until they had their seat belts on and he had cranked the heat up did he ask if she’d had a good time.
“Sure,” she said, sounding surprised. “You’re right. They were all nice.” Pause. “Mostly.”
In the act of releasing the emergency brake, he looked at her. “Mostly?”
“Oh, one guy hit on me.” He couldn’t see her face well in the dark, but heard distaste in her voice.
“Who?” he asked.
“Not saying. They’re your friends.”
“Everyone came as part of a couple except Alicia.”
She shrugged.
“That the worst that happened?”
“One of the women...uh, Sydney, I think. Or Cindy?”
“Sydney,” he said tersely.
“She expressed surprise at me and you. Thought maybe we were just friends.”
“Because?” He was trying to see her face even though he couldn’t. His foot remained on the brake, one hand gripping the steering wheel so hard it creaked.
“You and I both know I’m not your type.”
Man, he hated her shrugs, careless and self-deprecating.
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“Bullshit,” he said for the second time today.
“They all seem to know you pretty well.”
“What did they say about me?”
“Nice things.” At last, Amy turned her face toward him and he was able to make out her features in the light from the dashboard. Her mouth had a curve that might have been a smile, but her eyes were deeply shadowed. “They’re your friends, Jakob.”
“Apparently not the asshole who hit on you.”
“Well, maybe not him so much. I kind of had the feeling it wasn’t me so much as getting in a jab at you.”
“Spence,” he said softly.
Her surprise wasn’t hidden quite fast enough. “Why the enmity?” she asked, after a significant pause.
“We’re in the same business, more or less. He’s vice president of a company that makes paddleboards, skateboards, that kind of thing. We carry a limited number. He keeps pressing for a bigger commitment using the friend card, I’m not that happy about how his products do for us. We’ve had some fiberglass separation, that kind of thing. The bigger problem is that his wife and I are good friends. Have been since college. He sees that as a threat.”
Amy was quiet for a minute. In the interval he finally put the Outback in gear and pulled away from the curb. The headlights picked out shiny pavement in a very dark night.
“How good?” she asked.
“Not sexual, if that’s what you want to know.”
“Does he know that?”
“He would if he’d ever asked Fay.”
“Asking and believing are too different things.”
His neck felt stiff. In a futile effort to loosen it, he rotated his shoulders. Right this minute, he thought it might take a chiropractor.
“You must run into people all the time who’ve read your writing.”
“More often lately.” She paused. “I thought maybe you’d primed...who was it? Erica? Sarah?”
“Erica. I wouldn’t do that to you, Amy.”
She had to hear that she’d offended him. She lifted a hand as though she was going to touch him, but her fingers curled into her palm and she tucked it against her stomach.
From This Day On Page 22
