Snowbound

by Larissa Ione

  Robyn sighed. Her mother thought everyone could use an extra ten pounds. “Where’s dad?”

  “He’ll be here any minute with your brothers. They’re all going to help with your reunion menu.”

  The reunion. Robyn’s stomach lurched. Sure, she had a date now, but the auction was still a lost cause if someone didn’t answer her plea for help soon. “I heard you donated a gift certificate to the auction.”

  “Several local businesses donated something for a door prize.”

  “Sis!”

  Twenty-three-year-old Joe, her youngest brother, dropped a box of supplies and sauntered toward her like a nearly grown puppy still not comfortable in its body. His long arms swallowed her in a bear hug and before he let go, her other brother and father joined in the group hug.

  “Guys,” she said with a laugh, “I can’t breathe.”

  They all pulled away and Greg playfully tugged on a lock of her hair. “If you can talk, you can breathe.”

  She punched him in the arm. “I should’ve remembered that, since you used to sit on me until I couldn’t do either.”

  “Hit Joe, too. He helped.”

  He’d had to. Her younger brothers had both grown taller than her by the time she reached fourteen, but she’d outweighed them until well after high school.

  “We’re glad you made it,” her dad said with so much enthusiasm no one would have guessed her family had been in Chicago for Christmas only weeks ago.

  Greg tore open a case of yeast. “We weren’t sure if you could get time off from work.”

  “Oh, no worries there.” She had more time off now than she knew what to do with.

  Taking a deep, soothing breath of the fragrant air, Robyn watched a young baker pull some dark, round loaves of bread out of the ancient German masonry oven her parents had shipped from Europe. The wood-fired heat baked the most delicious crusty artisan breads she’d ever tasted.

  “Well,” her mother said, “are you ready to get your hands dirty?”

  More than ready. Nothing relaxed her more than working with dough, so a couple of hours spent elbow deep in flour sounded like heaven.

  And it was heaven, until two hours later, after mixing several batches of various dough, preparing three linzer tortes and shaping loaves of nine-grain, ciabatta and Parmesan levain breads, she was ready to get away from her brothers’ good-natured ribbing and face dinner with Sean.

  She was not, however, prepared to face him now. Not while covered with flour and smelling like a prune tart. So it figured he’d walk into Hausfreunde as she was walking out.

  “Hi.” He held the door so she could step out onto the salted sidewalk that ran in front of several blocks of chic, upscale boutiques and gourmet bistros.

  People swarmed the streets, hands full of shopping bags and drinks in plastic cups. An all-year-long party atmosphere had always dominated the city, which, during the height of the tourist season, operated almost twenty-four-seven. Music blared from posh bars that catered to the rich and famous and attracted travelers from all over the world.

  Sean let the door swing shut, and there in the chilly afternoon air with said tourists skirting around them, he ran his finger along her cheekbone in a slow motion that did funny things to her insides. “This is a nice look on you.”

  Flour coated his fingertip and she winced. “It’s the new thing, you know. All-natural cosmetics.”

  He laughed that great laugh of his. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m heading back to the lodge so I can meet you.”

  “In that case,” he said, “let me walk you to your car.”

  She shook her head, wanting to escape as quickly as possible before he caught a whiff of her. “It’s okay. My rental is just across the street.”

  “Indulge me.”

  If only he knew how tempted she was to indulge in whatever he wanted. “So you want me to satisfy your Boy Scout fantasy?”

  “I want you to satisfy all my fantasies.”

  This time his words didn’t do funny little things to her insides; they did serious big things to her insides. With a smile that made her knees weak, he grasped her hand and walked with her across the freshly plowed street to her four-wheel-drive wagon. She dug her keys out of her purse, but he took them from her and opened the driver side door.

  She watched him through narrowed eyes. “Are you always such a gentleman, or is this an act?”

  He closed the gap between them, and his warm hand came up to cup her cheek. His touch scorched her, left her breathless. “What does your gut tell you?”

  “It tells me to run,” she whispered, trying to look away, but his broad shoulders blocked everything but him.

  His finger brushed along her jaw and down her throat to the top of her cowl-neck sweater, and her blood heated, pooled in all the places it mattered. “Why?”

  “Because it might not be an act.”

  He leaned fractionally closer, and she bumped up against the rear door. He followed, his body touching but not pressing. “And that’s a bad thing?”

  If he only knew. She could deal with come-ons and blatant attempts to get her into bed if she recognized the efforts for what they were. She could prepare her heart and mind for shallow relationships. And yes, Sean obviously wanted to get physical, but unlike many men of her past, he didn’t look at her like she was good for only one thing. Sean seemed genuinely interested in her, not just her body.

  And that was the danger. As a teen she’d been so desperate for acceptance that she’d fallen for every nice thing people said, only to be crushed later when the nice thing proved to be a joke. Growing up fat and homely had taught her some harsh lessons. Lessons reinforced by her work in the media world, where sincerity and depth were façades, and she had no defense against the real thing.

  “It can be a bad thing.” She sucked in an icy breath as he placed his hands on the roof of the car, one on each side of her, caging her in, bringing to mind thoughts of being beneath him like this. “When I’m trying to resist you.”

  “Why would you want to do that?” He nuzzled her ear and her mind turned to mush.

  Why? She suddenly had no idea. She couldn’t think when his lips were kissing a trail from her ear to her mouth. Then his mouth met hers and the battle was lost. Surrender had never felt so good.

  A needy moan escaped her as she welcomed the taste of him, welcomed the insatiable hunger that consumed her at the first flick of his tongue against hers. His kiss was hot and deep and wet, and so skillful that she couldn’t help but wonder about—and anticipate—his other talents.

  She slid her hands under his jacket, partly for warmth, partly so she could feel the muscles of his back leap under her palms. Sean shifted, his hard thigh parting her legs as he pressed closer, and oh, it felt nice to have him there between her legs again.

  His hands still on the roof of the car, he surrounded her with his taut body and his blistering warmth and his light, clean scent. She moved her palms up to his shoulder blades and pulled him closer so her belly encountered the heavy bulge at his groin. A ragged breath shuddered from his lungs.

  “You feel good,” he murmured against her lips, “and you taste incredible.”

  The rough edge to his voice fueled the fire she’d been fighting since she met him, and she dropped her hands to his firm, denim-covered rear, pulling him closer. A pleasant tightening sensation settled deep between her legs where his thigh pushed against her, and thank God they were standing outside in the cold on a busy street, or else she might have been tempted to pursue some of those fantasy ideas of his.

  Busy street…her parents’ shop…this had to stop. Now. “Sean. I-I have to go.”

  He brushed his lips over hers. “So soon?”

  “I’m freezing,” she lied, because she was burning up inside, but he didn’t need to know that. “And I’m getting wet.”

  One corner of his mouth curved into a bad boy smile. “A guy likes to hear that.”

  Puzzled, she frowned, and
then she got it. “Jerk,” she said, laughing. “You wish!” She pushed him away and patted the wet spots on the back of her jeans while pointedly looking at the car. “Water. Snow. My pants are wet.”

  Thankfully, he let it go, but the twinkle in his eyes told her he could have ridden that horse all day long. “I’ll see you tonight.” He gave her a peck on the cheek and then jogged across the street, his stride effortless and smooth, something she could watch for hours.

  With a sigh, she settled into the vehicle and started the engine. She just kept getting in deeper and deeper, and it was only a matter of time before she drowned.

  Chapter Five

  “Which one? The blue, or the green?”

  Karen looked up from the fashion magazine she was flipping through to study the sweaters Robyn held up for her opinion. “Green flatters you the most. But the blue is tighter. Makes your boobs look even bigger. Sean’ll like that.” She gave a small, secret smile. “Not that it matters, since I’m sure you won’t be wearing it for long.”

  “Nothing is going to happen.” Nothing more than what had already happened, anyway. Not until she was sure she could keep emotions out of their relationship.

  Karen snorted and rolled her eyes, so certain of her prediction that she apparently didn’t feel the need to respond.

  Robyn laughed and stuck out her tongue. “You’re just jealous.”

  “That you’re having dinner with the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen, even if he isn’t my type? Nah.” She nodded in approval when Robyn returned the green sweater to the closet. “Does your bra and underwear match?”

  “What did I just say? Nothing. Is. Going. To. Happen.”

  “So that’s a yes?”

  With a huff, Robyn tugged off the sweater she’d been wearing when she ran into Sean earlier. “Yes.”

  Karen tossed the magazine aside and stretched out on her bed, propping her head in one hand. “So tell me again how ‘nothing happened’ outside your parents’ bakery.”

  “Sean ambushed me. I was caught off guard.” Knowing that excuse sounded as lame to her friend as it did to her own ears, Robyn grinned. “And it was nice.”

  “Nice? It was nice?”

  “Okay, it was beyond nice.” Her thoughts turned inward as she replayed the kiss they’d shared against the car. Even now, her breasts tightened and her skin tingled. “Karen, I turned into a hot puddle of goo.”

  Karen’s eyes got a dreamy look in them. “I’ll bet that man is as talented in the bedroom as he is on the slopes.”

  A strange tremor of both feverish desire and icy distress ran through Robyn as she pulled the navy angora sweater over her head. No doubt Sean could steam up a bedroom, but the reason he could—the hordes of women who had no doubt given him the practice—left her cold when it should have made her happy.

  It was exactly the kind of flaw she was looking for.

  She couldn’t be with Sean because of who he was, and she’d best get used to that.

  Desperately needing to change the subject, she dug her hairbrush out of her makeup bag and plopped down on the bed next to Karen. “Are you seeing Freak tonight?”

  “Yep. He’ll be here in a few minutes to pick me up. We’re doing a little night-skiing. He’s going to teach me to snowboard.” Karen waggled her eyebrows playfully. “And me? I’ll readily admit to wearing a matching bra and panties.”

  “Which translates to no bra and panties?”

  “You know me way too well.”

  Robyn dragged the brush through her hair. Her friend had a great thing going with Freak, and Robyn had to confess to a twinge of jealousy. She’d come to the resort hoping to find an average, non-celebrity guy she could enjoy without worry, a fun fling she’d remember fondly and without regret ten years later.

  Instead, she was more worried than ever, and sure regret was only a matter of time.

  She checked her makeup in the bathroom mirror before grabbing her jacket off the back of the chair near the door. “I’m out of here. I need to go before the crowds get too big outside.” She shoved her room key in her jeans’ pocket and opened the door. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Have a good time,” Karen called out as Robyn stepped into the hall. “I won’t expect you back until tomorrow.”

  “I told you—”

  “Yeah, yeah. Nothing is going to happen.” Karen shooed her away. “Get out of here. Go!”

  Robyn shut the door and stood there for a moment, leaning against it. She felt a little overwhelmed, a little wide-eyed with a sensation similar to terror…but not quite. Her body hummed with nervous energy, and with something else that wasn’t welcome—arousal. Just thinking about Sean got her hot and bothered. She had no idea what that meant.

  And she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  Robyn shouldered her way through the night-skiers in the lobby, repeating to herself that this was nothing more than dinner and fun. She wouldn’t get attached or have too much fun.

  When she stepped outside the lodge where it should have been dark, bright lights nearly blinded her. Blinking, she peered through the glittering curtain of fat snowflakes at a television camera crew, a reporter and six members of the Italian, Norwegian and US ski teams who’d arrived for Saturday’s competition.

  The athletes stood in the trampled snow, laughing, joking, checking out the women in the crowd, their smug grins and self-assuredness guaranteeing they wouldn’t sleep alone tonight. She could so easily picture Sean doing the same not long ago, and her stomach churned.

  Pushing her way through the throng, she moved away from the suffocating activity—and ran into Damon.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” he said, cheery and amiable, as if he hadn’t threatened to crush her less than twenty-four hours ago.

  “Don’t call me that,” she gritted out, and then, unable to resist baiting him, she nodded toward the cameras. “Hoping to get in front of them?”

  “Supervising.”

  Puzzled, she glanced at the network symbols on the cameras. Several weeks ago, Damon had mentioned he’d taken a large role in the production of the Mogul Media’s winter sports interests. His being here now made sense, and it hit her; he’d known he’d be here months ago when she asked him to emcee the auction. He’d acted as though he’d be going out of his way to help her out, but he had planned to be here for the ski competition all along. That bastard. She wanted to punch him, but instead, she smiled. Maybe she could twist the situation to her advantage.

  “You know, this could be a great opportunity for you.” She gestured to the camera crew. “You could emcee the charity auction and get footage of you doing it.”

  And what a huge boost for Ski-Do to have their cause featured on TV.

  “Sorry, sweets. I have an important party to attend after the ski competition.”

  She stared in disbelief, though this was, after all, Damon, so nothing should come as a surprise. “So your schmoozing parties are more important than keeping your promise to raise money for underprivileged kids.”

  “Maybe I can arrange for someone else to give you a hand.” He looked down at her with a wolfish smile she used to think was cute. “If you help me out.”

  Unbelievable. “If I give Brad Hardy a call for that interview, you mean.” She shook her head. “I’d rather emcee the auction myself.” Besides, she didn’t trust him not to go back on his word the moment she made the arrangements.

  His laughter stabbed at her like a knife. “You? You couldn’t speak in front of a crowd if all you had to do is lip synch.” He crowded close and lowered his voice. “Let me help you. I really do feel bad about last night.”

  Of all the crazy things, she actually believed he did feel bad. But she also knew he was ruthless when he wanted something. Damon was a businessman to the core. “If you want to make it up to me, you’ll emcee the auction, and then I’ll contact Brad. You know my word is good.”

  “No deal.” He shouted a command at one of his crew and turned a cold eye on her. “Why are
you harassing me, anyway? Don’t you have someplace you need to be?”

  Oh, God. Sean! She glanced at her watch. Ten minutes late. She took off without another word and trekked across packed snow through the brightly lit ski village adjacent to the lodge. Most of the glass-front shops were still open, and she had to step around crowds of window shoppers and bar-hoppers as she hurried to Après Ski, a split-level log and stone pub done up like an earthy, miniature mountain ski lodge.

  Sean waited on the porch, his shoulder propped casually against the wooden railing, arms crossed, sharp eyes scanning the hordes of pedestrians. He smiled when he saw her and she should have known he wouldn’t be angry. Did anything rattle the guy?

  “Hi,” he shouted over the music that blasted from inside the bar when someone opened the door to enter.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said as she climbed the steps to meet him. “I ran into my ex-boss and got stuck dealing with him and his stupid camera crew.” She stomped snow off her boots. “Have I mentioned how much I detest the media circus? How much I detest him?”

  Something flashed in Sean’s eyes, gone too quickly for her to tell what it was. “But your career is in radio, right?”

  “Yes, but I mostly work behind the scenes.”

  “Do you like your job?”

  An interesting question, and one she wasn’t sure how to answer. She used to love what she did, but now…not so much. “My job has its plusses. But that doesn’t mean I have to like the people in TV and radio.”

  “True.” He slung his arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the staff parking lot at the end of the village. “You hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  He bent his head and dragged his lips over her ear that was still ringing with the echoes of music from the bar. “So am I.”

  Her breath caught and words left her, which was just as well since he pulled away to dig keys from his pocket. He stopped beneath a bright streetlamp on the passenger side of a huge, beat-up old Land Rover. A light dusting of snow coated the green paint, but not enough to hide the dents and deep scratches. She had to admit that she was more than a little surprised that he wasn’t driving something new and expensive.