Snowbound

by Larissa Ione

Worse, he’d bungled badly when he agreed to keep her busy in order to secure a permanent sports-announcing job. Even if she forgave him for the first lie, she’d never forgive the second betrayal. And he wouldn’t blame her. In his blind desperation to get his old life back—the life of fame, fortune and women—he’d not considered how his selfishness would impact others. Others like Robyn.

  He’d thought the deal with Damon would benefit her, but deep down, had he really been more concerned with helping himself? Probably. Idiot.

  “Sean? Can you do that? Get someone to work for you?”

  The hope in her words stabbed at his heart. He couldn’t help her with the auction, but he was going to make things right. This wasn’t the fling she kept insisting it was. This was real, and he was going to be honest with her about everything. But first he had someone to deal with.

  “I can’t,” he said as he threw on his coat. “But don’t make plans tonight. We need to talk, and there are some things you need to know. How about if I meet you in the Moosehead after work?”

  She nodded and he leaned over to kiss her. “I’ll see you later.”

  Trying to contain her disappointment, Robyn watched Sean walk out the door. Damn! She’d been so sure she’d solved her problem. What people from her high school class thought about her was no longer the main issue; this was about the charity and Sean would have brought in a lot of money.

  And what did he want with her tonight? He’d sounded serious, like whatever he wanted to say wouldn’t be all sunshine and flowers. Emotions warred with each other, some wanting the discussion to be about creating something more permanent between them, and others—weaker, traitorous ones—wanting the discussion to center on cooling things down.

  Oh, God, what if he did want to pull back? What if the new intimacy they’d found together last night had been too much for him? What if he’d given some thought to that picture of her in the yearbook and had decided that the risk of her letting herself go again was too much? What if he was right now rehearsing the “it’s not you, it’s me” speech?

  A panicky, fluttery sensation filled her chest as “what ifs” filled her mind. Then Karen’s lecture at BrewSki just days ago rang in her head. You get freaked out and start inventing worst-case scenarios before you get all the facts.

  She did do that. She was doing that now. Sean had given her absolutely no reason to think he’d dump her, and the fact that she worried about it opened her eyes. Why was she fighting what they had? His past was the past. He was a simple EMT and ski patroller now. He didn’t want any kind of sports comeback. He said he was done with groupies, and the fact that he was now fully functional but hadn’t ditched her for a hard-bodied bimbo in a tight snowsuit was proof of that. So what was her problem?

  She sipped her coffee and sat back in the chair to think. Well, the long-distance relationship thing could be an issue. She didn’t know where she’d be working—if she could even get a job—but she knew she couldn’t get anything closer than Denver, which was hours away.

  Then there was…nothing. So really, other than distance, nothing would prevent them from having a real relationship.

  Assuming, of course, that Sean wanted a relationship. Maybe she’d read him wrong. She’d never been the best judge of men. If so, she’d have seen through Damon a long time ago.

  Norbert rubbed against her foot, and she reached down to scratch behind his ears. “You’re daddy’s quite the guy, isn’t he?”

  Norbert blinked his luminous eyes at her, but she knew he’d agree if he could talk. Sean had saved his life, something a lot of men wouldn’t have done. That alone was worth giving him a chance at something more than a fling.

  A sense of relief and elation washed over her at the decision, and feeling giddy, she bounced up the stairs to shower. When she finished, she put on the jeans and sweatshirt she’d changed into after the dance. She’d followed Sean in her rental, which had given her the freedom this morning to go to the bakery while he worked.

  Once dressed, she headed downstairs to call Karen for a lunch date. The phone on the little table next to the staircase rang before she could dial, and the answering machine picked up.

  “Hey, Sean, it’s Samantha,” said the nasally female voice. “I have fabulous news. You ready? Sit down, because I booked you on Letterman next week! Can you believe it? I also contacted all the sports magazines and TV channels to let them know you’re back on the scene. Two already want interviews.”

  She paused, which gave Robyn a chance to breathe, something she’d stopped doing at the word “Letterman”.

  “This is a good thing, Sean. Trust me. This’ll lead somewhere big. Oh, and good luck with the announcing tomorrow. Just give the camera your signature smile, and the world will fall in love with you all over again.”

  The lady, who must have been his agent, hung up, leaving Robyn shaking with rage and barely able to suck a breath through her constricted windpipe.

  Sean lied.

  The pain of betrayal shredded her insides, and her eyes stung with tears he didn’t deserve. What a lying, cheating rat!

  She whirled away from the phone, determined not to dissolve into tears. Not here, where competition medals and trophies mocked her for falling for Sean’s lines. Hands shaking, she grabbed her purse and coat and flew out of the house. Bright sunlight glinted off deep snow, but she couldn’t take pleasure in the splendor of a winter morning. She needed to get away from him, away from his house. The most comforting place she knew was only a few miles down the mountain, and amidst the delicious aroma of baking bread and sweet pastries, she could drown herself in food.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The warble of an ambulance’s siren competed with the sound of Sean’s panting breaths in his ears. Sweat streamed down his spine beneath his patrol jacket, but his hands had nearly frozen in the cold air as he crunched a series of compressions into a heart attack victim’s chest. The man had collapsed in the lodge’s parking lot while loading his ski gear into his van, and Sean and Todd, who’d been on their way to the patrol office for a change of shift, had been closest to the scene.

  “Paramedics just turned into the lot,” Todd said from his position at the older man’s head.

  Sean nodded, counting out his thrusts. The grate of cracked ribs beneath the heel of his palm shivered up his arms with each downward stroke. The siren cut off as the rumble of an engine grew louder.

  He stopped after the last compression and waited for Todd to ventilate the patient with breaths through a mask over the man’s nose and mouth, and then his partner pressed two fingers to the man’s neck.

  “Got a pulse!” Todd removed the mask and bent close to the victim’s face and gave a relieved smile. “He’s breathing. Holy shit, he’s breathing.”

  “Thank God.” Heart attack victims rarely came back, and though the patient still had an uphill struggle ahead, at least he stood a better chance of recovering now than he had a few minutes ago when he was turning blue in the snow.

  The paramedics, employees at the same company for which Todd and Sean both worked, took over, and after they loaded up the patient and the crowd of bystanders dispersed, Sean and Todd started back to the office to fill out paperwork.

  “Man, that was awesome.” Todd grinned and held up his open palm.

  Sean slapped his friend’s hand and stuck his frozen one back in his pocket. “Definitely a high.”

  It had been a long time since he’d done more than patch up serious but non-life-threatening injuries, and he’d forgotten how good it felt to save a life. How it gave him a sense of purpose and accomplishment not even his championship medals had.

  The late afternoon sun cast long shadows as it sank behind the mountain, and skiers fresh off the runs swarmed inside the lodge for food breaks. Sean had to wade through the masses until he and Todd finally made it to the patrol office, where they finished up paperwork and changed into civilian clothing. Todd took off, late for his EMT shift.

  Sean prepared for batt
le.

  Allowing himself a grim smile, he mounted the lodge stairs to Damon Slade’s room. He’d waited all day for this, had anticipated the coming confrontation to the point of distraction—distraction that resulted in two idiotic falls even a beginning skier would have had to work at to achieve.

  Although, Damon hadn’t been the only distraction during a busy day on the slopes. The competition had him stressed to the limit. He hadn’t spoken publicly in years. What if he made a complete fool of himself?

  He mulled that over for a moment. Why hadn’t he cared about making a fool of himself back in his pro skiing days when he’d regularly said stupid things to reporters? Probably because he’d been immature and shallow as a mud puddle.

  He topped the landing on the second floor and cast a glance in the direction of Robyn’s room. Robyn, who had been his other distraction today. Robyn, who had kept him up until all hours of the night.

  His grim smile became genuine. Somehow he had to convince her that they were meant to be together in more than a sexual way. He loved being with her, loved talking to her. Loved her. No use in denying it.

  He took the next flight of stairs two at a time. On the third floor, he found Slade’s door, and knocked. Through the thick wood, he heard muffled giggles, a curse, and then approaching footsteps. Damon opened the door wearing only sweat shorts.

  “Mr. Trenton. What can I do for you?”

  Behind the other man, a nude blonde dashed to the bathroom. Sean basked in smug contentment. Robyn was his, and Damon was stuck with a woman who couldn’t possibly compare.

  “I need to talk to you.” Sean shot a meaningful glance over Damon’s shoulder. “Alone.”

  Damon’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded. “Let me throw on a shirt.” He retreated into the room, and returned wearing a radio station sweatshirt. Stepping outside, he pulled the door closed behind him. “What’s this about?”

  Anxious to wipe the patronizing smile off the other man’s face, Sean let him have it. “Deal’s off. I won’t keep Robyn busy for you anymore. I’m done.”

  He’d keep Robyn busy, but not for anyone but himself. The whole arrangement hung over him like a dark cloud, and he wanted that cloud gone. She deserved better.

  A tic pulsed in Damon’s jaw. “What happened? What did she tell you?”

  “She hasn’t said anything about you.” Nothing Damon needed to hear, anyway.

  “Then what’s the problem?” His face paled. “You didn’t tell her about our arrangement, did you?”

  Interesting that Damon seemed so worried. Why was it so important that Robyn didn’t know about their deal? What was at stake? All questions Sean hadn’t thought of when Damon had first approached him to keep Robyn away from him. It hadn’t mattered.

  Now it did.

  “I’m curious,” Sean said. “Why do you care if I told her?”

  “Mr. Trenton, I don’t owe you any answers. All I owe you is a shot at building a career. And right now that shot is a little shaky.”

  Right on cue. After what Damon had done to Robyn, Sean had expected this.

  “About that. Here’s the thing.” He shifted slightly closer to Damon, wanting to enjoy every trace of emotion that played over the other man’s face. “Thanks to the contract we both signed, I’m announcing the ski competition tomorrow no matter what. If I’m good, you’ll hire me even without my having to entertain your ex-girlfriend. If you don’t hire me, someone else will. It’s that simple.”

  “I see.” Damon patted the breast of his shirt as if searching for something. Cigarettes, probably. He smelled like a dirty ashtray.

  “And what about Robyn?” Damon’s eyes darkened, sharpened into shark-like beads. “What about her job?”

  “She’ll figure something out.” And he’d help her as best as he could, whether or not she liked it.

  “Are you sure about that?”

  Damon’s softly uttered question struck a warning chord inside Sean, and when the other man glanced over Sean’s shoulder, his stomach took a deep dive. He knew before he looked that Robyn stood behind him. Damn. And damn again. How much had she heard? Judging by Damon’s cool smirk, she’d heard enough.

  The pounding of his heart threatened to crack his ribs. Feeling sick, he turned. Robyn stood at the top of the stairs, her face ashen, her eyes burning green fire.

  “Karen said she saw you come up here,” she croaked. “I needed to talk to you, so I followed, and…and…bastards!” She spun around and fled down the stairs.

  “Robyn!”

  She didn’t stop, or even slow down. Cursing, Sean followed. A swarm of skiers in the lobby swallowed her, and his insides clenched on a panicky sensation. Where’d she go? He stood on the bottom step and scanned the crowd. She was nowhere.

  Shouldering his way through the throng, he crossed to the Moose to see if she’d ducked inside, but again, she was nowhere. She must have gone outside. He burst through the lodge doors, and there, fleeing toward the parking lot, was a fox-red head of hair illuminated by light from the Victorian-style sidewalk lamps and the strings of bright white party lights in the village.

  He ran as fast as his snow boots would allow, and as he closed the distance between them, he wondered if the emotional distance would be so easily bridged.

  Robyn’s breath scorched her throat, and even the icy air she sucked in great gulps did nothing to ease the burn. She’d been angry enough after listening to Sean’s agent and learning the truth about his bogus I’m-done-being-famous crap. But to discover that he’d been scheming with Damon in order to land a job…what an asshole.

  Heavy, snow-crunching footsteps sounded behind her. “Robyn. Stop. Please.”

  She increased her pace.

  “Let me explain.”

  She halted so suddenly that her foot slipped on the hard-packed snow and she nearly went down, which made her even angrier, and she whirled around with a snarl.

  “Explain? Explain what? That you used me? That you lied to me to get me into bed? That you conspired with a man you knew I detested so you could get a job?”

  He had the grace to blush. “Yes. That would be what I need to explain.”

  “Why? So I’ll sleep with you again? Fat chance, sport. Go feed someone else your lies. I guarantee it’ll take a lot less work to get another woman into bed than it will be to get me there. Because it won’t happen. Ever.”

  Clenching her fists so she wouldn’t be tempted to strangle him, she spun around and stalked toward the parking lot. His raw curse followed her, echoing crisply in the mountain air until the too-merry pub music from a bar in the village ate it up.

  “Robyn, I don’t want to get you into bed.”

  Stung, she stopped, faced him once more. “Why? Because you only slept with me to keep me busy for Damon? Was having sex with me that much of a sacrifice?”

  He studied his boots, perhaps unable to look her in the eye, and her stomach rolled at the possibility that her remark had been on target.

  “You were a sacrifice,” he admitted in a tight voice, “but not in the way you think.”

  “Really.”

  A group of people carrying skis over their shoulders walked past and Sean stepped forward, taking her hand before she could stop him.

  “Let’s talk somewhere quiet.”

  He started to lead her back to the lodge, but she tore away from him and jammed both hands in her jacket pockets. “Tell me now how I was a sacrificial lamb.”

  “Let’s go inside—”

  “Now!”

  She could practically smell his frustration. He wasn’t used to not being in charge. Good.

  “I thought”—he took a deep breath—“I thought I needed to get laid. I told you why.”

  “Because your self-esteem had been ravaged.” She snorted. “Probably another lie.”

  Pain flashed in his eyes. “No. That was the truth.”

  “Then that’s the only thing you were truthful about,” she said softly, regretting the hurt she’d cau
sed him, and then furious that she cared. Mouth twisted in anger, she spat, “You still used me.”

  Thrusting his fingers through his hair, he chuckled bitterly. “Isn’t that a little hypocritical to say?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You used me, too.” An edge of impatience sharpened his voice. “You used my reputation as a playboy to make it okay to have a purely sexual relationship. You used my fame to parade me in front of your classmates to show them you’re worth something. You know, glass houses and all that.”

  Fury—and guilt—slashed at her like a million fiery little whips. “At least I was honest about it. You’ve lied about just about everything. About knowing Damon. About announcing the competition. About the interviews and late-night talk shows.”

  He frowned, the shadows from the lights overhead creating hollows that deepened his scowl. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You are unbelievable. Do you ever stop lying?” She glared at him, trying to ignore her breaking heart. “Go to hell. And leave me alone.”

  He said something, but she shut him out, turned him off like a song she hated on the radio. She started to resume her course for the parking lot, but it occurred to her that she was allowing him to chase her away. No more. Her heart had broken, but not her spirit. Never again would any man walk all over her spirit.

  Raising her chin stubbornly, she brushed past him and headed for her room. And maybe if she was lucky, she’d see Damon. She had a fist that was itching to connect with his nose.

  Sean let her go. She was too angry to listen and he’d only make things worse if he pushed. It was bad enough that he’d allowed his own temper to flare, especially given that she had every right to be upset with him, and not the other way around.

  As he drove to his cabin, he tried to think of ways to make it up to her, to make her understand what had happened. He couldn’t come up with anything. Especially since he had no idea where the interviews-and-talk-show thing had come from.

  The drive took forever, but when he finally arrived, the dark emptiness almost made him wish he’d taken even longer to drive. Being alone in his home had never bothered him before, but Robyn had changed all that. He couldn’t look at his couch without seeing her there. He couldn’t walk into the kitchen without picturing her smiling at him from the table. And he dreaded going upstairs to his bedroom.