by Tessa Radley
“But this is the way to my room,” she said as the doors opened to her floor. “What are you going to show me here?”
Avery followed him up a short flight of stairs, until he halted outside her room. “Open up.”
She dug in her toes. “What’s going on?”
“Get your swimsuit and a towel, we’re going on a picnic.”
“A picnic?”
He grinned, looking like he had no cares in the world. “Why not?”
“Haven’t you got work to do?”
“It’s Monday, the slowest day at the resort. The sun is shining, it’s eighty degrees. The perfect day to show you the best swimming hole in Colorado. And test your theory that food tastes better outdoors.”
“I suppose you’ve prepared the perfect picnic feast?”
“Uh…Louis did.”
“In that case perhaps I should go on a picnic with Louis.” Then she tensed at her stupidity and tried to think of an inane comment that would take the edge out her words.
But Guy didn’t react with the suspicion she’d half expected. “No go. I organized the food, no one is hijacking my picnic.”
Avery laughed and relaxed a little. If he was starting to trust her then they were making progress.
Better she accept that Guy was not going to cook for her. Not because he hadn’t had sufficient opportunity, but because for some reason he didn’t want to.
She wished she could read him better, understand what drove him.
Today he was back to the easy charm that had attracted her that first day she met him. But she’d learned that the easygoing attitude also hid a reluctance to commit his heart. Avery didn’t want the shallow charmer any longer; she wanted the complex, passionate man she’d glimpsed beneath.
Maybe a picnic would help unearth him.
Swiping her access card, she opened the room door. “Give me two minutes to drop off my laptop and change into a swimsuit.”
Guy parked the black SUV under the trees and led Avery down an overgrown path to where the river flowed lazily into a calm pool in the lea of a large rock.
“Best kept secret in Colorado,” he said.
“Gosh, the water is like a mirror.” The willows along the river bank and the wide cobalt sky overhead were reflected in the flat surface.
“Not on the southern side of the rock, there’s a waterfall there.” With the picnic basket in one hand, Guy reached for her fingers with his free hand. “Come.”
A bolt of pure happiness shot through Avery as his fingers threaded through hers. This was what she yearned for. This sense of companionship and contentment…with no hint of suspicion and distrust.
Near the edge of the river bank, in the green space under the largest willow, Guy set down the basket and let go of her hand. Then he tugged off his T-shirt and Avery caught her breath at the sight of his broad chest, his stomach tight with muscles that rippled in the sunlight.
Before he could see the effect his body had on her, she turned away and stripped off her jeans and tank top to reveal the lime-green bikini she wore. By the time she reached the river bank, Guy was already moving across the ledge below the large, flat rock. He took three running steps and leapt into the water.
Avery edged down the bank until she stood knee deep in the swimming hole.
“Brr.” She crossed her arms over her breasts to hide her puckering nipples. “It’s cold.”
“Of course it’s cold. What did you expect? A hot tub?”
That brought back memories she didn’t need revived right now, and a wash of heat replaced the water’s chill. But when the water crept up her midriff, Avery forgot about hot tubs and nipples and squealed out loud.
“You should’ve jumped in while you had the chance.”
Avery took one look at the wicked gleam in Guy’s eyes as he swam toward her and sank hurriedly under the water.
“You beast.” She came up stuttering at the shock of the river’s chill. “You’ll pay.”
She splashed a wide arc of water at him.
He retaliated and within minutes they were engaged in a water fight, the cold forgotten, until they ended up under the stream of bubbles from the waterfall.
“That was wonderful.” Finally worn out, Avery hauled herself out of the pool. Spreading her towel out on the grassy bank, she lay back in the sun, closing her eyes. Her stomach rumbled as hunger started to set in.
Peering through her eyelashes, she could see Guy sitting on his towel. Drops of water ran down his chest, causing her to follow their pathway over his chest, and belly…lower…to the waistband of his trunks. Those drops looked totally lickable.
She flushed, and jerked her gaze back to his face. “You always promised you’d cook for me one day.”
“Did I?” His expression was impenetrable.
“Don’t you remember?”
He shrugged. “I’m too busy to prepare food these days.”
“You told me that back in New York.” She braved his sarcasm. “You also said you missed it. That conjuring up dishes for your patrons didn’t bring the same satisfaction as feeding friends and family.”
Did he really not remember? Or was this another way of closing himself up to her?
“Sounds like I said entirely too much.”
“Don’t you recall the conversation?” Perhaps he had forgotten. Or never taken much notice to the promise he’d made. It only went to show how little their relationship had meant to him. It irked her that she was so forgettable he couldn’t even remember their conversations.
Every word he’d spoken to her was engraved on her soul.
Don’t call me again. Ever.
And she hadn’t. If it hadn’t been for Uncle Art falling sick, she’d very likely never have met Guy again. She’d sworn never to take an assignment in New York. Even among the millions of people the risk of encountering Guy was too great.
So maybe she was a ’fraidy cat.
Yet here she was trying to remind him he’d once promised to make her a meal. A fierce and stubborn determination crept in. “You said it the day that—”
“I vaguely remember.”
Vaguely? That was even more insulting. Before she could object to his choice of words Guy had moved away to unpack the hamper.
“There’s a selection of cheeses, a baguette, some pickles made at the resort, grapes and a nut terrine that is irresistible.” Guy spread them out on a checked blue-and-white rug. Then he dug back into the hamper. “As well as a bottle of Pinot Noir from the Sonoma Coast. No champagne today—I don’t want to make you sneeze.”
At least he’d remembered that! While it might not be exactly the same as having Guy prepare food for her, the spread looked heavenly. Avery’s mouth started to water.
“I suppose I could settle for that.”
Reaching forward, he tore off a piece of bread and scooped a little terrine on to it. “Try this.” He offered it to her.
She took it daintily, closed her eyes, and chewed.
“Good.”
Her eyes opened, and caught him watching her. “What are you staring at?”
“You’re a pleasure to feed,” he said simply.
“So feed me.”
Guy’s pulse leaped. But he took her at her word. Within minutes they’d demolished the contents of the basket.
“Just as well there wasn’t more.” Avery grinned at him and desire clawed at his gut in a way that was only too familiar. “A full stomach and warm sunshine would guarantee that I wouldn’t move for a week.”
He forgot about work. He forgot about the menu that Louis was waiting for him to finalize for the black-tie fundraiser for the coming Saturday night. His whole world consisted of Avery’s sparkling blue eyes, and her wicked smiling mouth.
“There’s still dessert,” he murmured.
“Oh, I couldn’t eat another thing.”
“I think you’ll find space for ripe black cherries.” Guy shifted closer to her. The blue of her eyes deepened as she realized his intent.
“I love cherries.”
They’d talked about cherries one evening at Baratin. She’d said she’d match the sweetness with a sauce of bitter chocolate. He’d argued that honey drizzled over would match better—he’d been teasing, his gleaming laughter-filled eyes had told her that much.
“There’s a bottle of honey to complement it.”
Her heart sank a little. No, he didn’t remember. Or if he did, he didn’t care enough to take her suggestions to heart. Avery felt unaccountably crushed.
“That will be nice,” she said, subdued.
He took a glass bottle out the basket.
“But that’s—” Her startled gaze shot to his.
“Chocolate. Bitter and dark.” There was humor in his eyes. “I must have selected the wrong bottle.” His brow wrinkled. “Silly me.”
He hadn’t forgotten!
That he’d remembered, taken the trouble to arrange something she’d said she liked was suddenly, overwhelmingly significant.
Avery helped herself to a cherry. “Definitely tastes better out here under blue skies. Sweet and juicy, all it needs is the chocolate.”
His eyes darkened. “Very tasty.”
“You haven’t even tasted it yet.”
“I don’t even need the chocolate.” He leaned forward and placed his lips against hers. His tongue swept across her lip. Slowly. Sensuously. Tasting the sweet juice of the cherry she’d eaten.
Her heart jolted, and began to race.
“Now I have,” he whispered against her lips.
Avery pulled back. She had a feeling she was going to regret this later. For heaven’s sake, he didn’t even trust her. “Guy, where is this going?”
“All the way.” His eyes were intense.
That wasn’t what she’d meant. But she let it pass as he drew picked up the rug and drew her into the shadowy hollow under the willow. The rasp of his breath as she arched her back was enough for now, Avery told herself. When he was ready he would tell her why he shied away from intimacy.
It was up to her to convince him there was nothing to fear.
She put her arms around him and pulled him close. “Make love to me, Guy.” Love not sex. Out here, feeling so close to Guy, she needed to make herself believe it was more than only sex. Even if she was deluding herself.
He didn’t protest.
Instead he dropped his head and swirled his tongue through the valley between her breasts. Avery moaned. Her head tipped back, and the next moment she felt the stroke of his tongue against the arch of her throat. She shuddered.
“Let’s get this wet suit off.” His voice was hoarse.
That gave her pause. “What if someone comes?”
“Oh, someone will come, all right,” he growled.
Avery gave a shuddering laugh. “Don’t joke.”
“No joke.” The eyes that burned into hers were scorching hot. “I promise.”
For a moment her natural caution reared its head. Then passion took over. Under the canopy of the willow they were out of sight. Avery pushed all worries about interruptions, about tomorrow…next week, out of her head. Guy filled her vision, her world.
Lifting her hands she rested them on his shoulders. His skin was sleek and smooth under her touch, his muscles firm. She gloried in the warm hardness of him. He felt so vital, so alive.
“I’ll hold you to that promise,” she murmured as her hands traveled down and stopped at the barrier formed by the waistband of his board shorts. Languorously she tugged the laces undone. Slipping her hands inside the waistband she pushed them over his hips and down his legs.
By the time the wet bathing suit landed on the ground, he was hard and quivering. Avery sank down onto her knees, and heard him gasp as her mouth closed on him.
Seconds later he was tumbling her onto the rug, spreading her thighs. Touching her…stroking her with hands that shook. Until her body started to sing. Just when she feared she could take no more he slipped between her thighs and sank into her, filling her until she could think of nothing. Except Guy.
Avery arched her back and gave a breathy moan of pleasure.
He lifted his head. “Okay?”
She nodded. “Oh, yes.”
His lips curved. “I’m glad—for me, too.”
She wanted to say that it could be even better. If he could only relax his guard, let her into his heart, and learn to trust her.
But she knew that if she voiced the intense thoughts his smile would vanish, he’d withdraw. Because the reality was that Guy didn’t want a lasting relationship. Now was all that mattered to him. She was a fool to want more with a man who didn’t even trust her.
So she bit her lip instead, closed her eyes, and focused on the connection they had.
Then he started to move and she forgot everything. Except the pure blinding silver pleasure of the moment.
Afterward they sat out on the sunny river bank and ate dessert.
The cherries and rich chocolate dipping sauce might as well have been stale bread and cold broth for all Guy cared. It tasted bland. Prosaic. It was Avery that he hungered for, her skin, her lips that he craved. Not food.
He couldn’t take his eyes of her. She’d pulled a tank top on with the lime bikini bottoms. She looked so breathtakingly colorful, so alive. And she’d been so passionate, so giving…everything a man could ever desire.
Yet one part of him still hung back, knowing that she would never be what she promised.
There’d be other men. And in the end she would leave again. He had to steel himself. He couldn’t afford not to keep a part of himself carefully in reserve.
“Guy—” she hesitated “—we need to talk.”
“Let’s enjoy the sunshine.”
She fell silent. Then, “There’s something I need to tell you.”
No.
Whatever it was he didn’t want to hear. “I don’t need confessions.” It came out more harshly than he’d intended.
He felt her grow stiff in his arms and he suppressed a sigh. Why couldn’t she just be satisfied with what they had? With the joy of the moment? Why did women always have to complicate everything?
But he sensed this was important to her. That she needed to get whatever it was she wanted to talk about off her chest. Guy told himself he could take whatever it was. Hell, he’d already gotten over her fling with Jeff, hadn’t he? He could get over whatever else she was about to reveal, too.
It wasn’t as if he were emotionally invested in her.
They were lovers, not soul mates—he’d always scorned the very idea of those.
“Tell me,” he said with a touch of weariness.
“Maybe now isn’t a good time.”
Typical. Guy stifled a burst of impatience. “Don’t go all feminine on me. You can’t start something then pull back.”
“You’re not making this easy.”
He suppressed the urge to groan. They made fantastic love. All he wanted was to spend the afternoon lazing in the sunshine with Avery beside him. She had to go wreck the mood with her urge to make a confession he had no desire to hear. And she said he wasn’t making it easy?
She drew a deep breath. “It’s about that night with Jeff.”
Heaven help him…this he most definitely did not want to hear about.
She must’ve read the reluctance on his face, because she said hurriedly, “That night, you need to know—”
“No. I don’t need to know anything about that night,” he interrupted. “It’s over. Forgotten.”
If he told himself that often enough he might start to believe it.
“It’s not over,” she said stubbornly. “It hangs between us all the time.”
“Nothing hangs between us, as you put it.”
Guy wanted to end this discussion. He hated the thought of her with Jeff, responding to his friend with the same glorious abandon she’d just responded to him with. He didn’t even want to think about it, much less do a postmortem on the distasteful topic. Nothin
g would take away the pain of Jeff telling him what a wildcat she’d been in bed.
“Of course it does. I implied I’d slept with Jeff, when I hadn’t.”
He went still. She wanted him to believe she’d lied? “Why would you do such a thing?”
How the hell was he supposed to believe this when she’d just admitted to lying to him once already?
She glanced away. “Surely that’s obvious?”
“Nothing is obvious.” He rolled away from her and, propping his arms behind his head, gazed up through the bent branches of the willow to the fragmented pieces of bright blue sky beyond. He refused to feel relief…or hope. Jeff had told him she’d seduced him, and Avery had confirmed that. Now she was changing her story. The chances that Jeff had lied, too, were too remote to even consider. “Why don’t you spell it out?”
“I was angry with you.”
“With me?” Guy turned his head and stared at her incredulously. “What did I do?”
“You put your business ahead of me—just like you always do.”
“Hold on a minute. Do you know how I worried about you? Waiting for you at Baratin—and you never arrived.”
For a moment Avery caught a glimpse into the depths of hell. Her fury evaporated. That night in the spa he’d told her that he’d asked Jeff to arrange a cab for her and to let her know. Instead Jeff had decided to collect her himself. And she’d run. So why had Guy worried? “But Jeff told you I seduced him. Why should you worry about me?”
“He told me over two hours later. I came back to my apartment to see if by any chance you were there—even though you weren’t answering your cell phone or the apartment phone—only to find a devastated Jeff.”
“I left my cell phone behind on the sideboard in my hurry to escape.”
“It wasn’t in the apartment.”
Avery searched for a logical explanation. “Then Jeff must’ve taken it.”
“Every explanation you offer comes back to blaming Jeff.”
Avery let the accusation go. “When did he tell you about the supposed seduction?”
