Climbing High (14 page)

She tilted her head to search his eyes. Her teeth worried her lower lip. His body responded like Pavlov’s dog to the bell.

“We’re both leaving Vancouver tomorrow. I’m tied up for the next month, remember?”

“Just say you’ll see me. I’ll make it happen.” He tried to keep his cool. He refused to beg, but thought any minute he’d be whining like a pup.

“I have to think about it.” Her eyes held a little panic and a lot of pleading. “I need time.”

He dropped his hands to his side. She wanted time, the one thing he didn’t want to give her. If she left for Copenhagen without making a commitment to see him, she’d dig herself in deeper than before. He hated the helpless feeling in his gut. “Fair enough. Sam will take you home. Let me know when you’ve made up your mind.” He tucked his finger under her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “One way, or another, let me know.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and walked her over to Sam’s bike.

She picked up her helmet and buckled it, settled on the back of the bike. He turned to say goodbye to his friends. They compared notes on their climb for several minutes, teasing each other with true affection. He hugged each of them in turn, doing the back slapping thing men did when they wanted to show and hide their feelings at the same time.

“So Iztaccihuatl in January,” Sam called as he settled on the bike ahead of Siree.

“I’ll be there.” Josh kicked down on his starter, his bike roaring to life, and turned in a tight curve to head out of the canyon.

Jake walked to his bike as Sam made the same tight turn. With a small wave, Siree disappeared into the distance. He had the same gut-wrenching sense of loss as when his mother took her last breath and left him.

****

The throaty purr of the engine mocked Siree.
You might never see him again. You might never see him again. You might never see him again.

By insisting on anonymity, she’d tied Jake’s hands. He couldn’t just show up at her door like any normal man who wanted to see her. She’d hammered the rules home before she’d agreed to work for him. No emails, letters, phone calls. Easy to say when she knew she’d see him to report. She’d deluded herself.

Respecting her wishes, he’d walked away in France. What was different about this time? Nothing.
I might never see him again
. Another wave of panic threatened to swamp her control. Feeling dizzy, she clutched Sam’s jacket.

Jake had looked so alone, watching her ride away on the back of Sam’s bike, a man unable to even escort his date home. She had a gift for reading people, and from their first meeting in the restaurant, she recognized the protective instinct in Jake. Like a young Arthur, he’d built a kingdom and now worked harder than ever to protect his people from corporate takeovers and the impact of global depression. It would gall such a warrior to ask another man to watch over his woman. And yet, without protest, he’d protected her in the only way he could: by stepping aside.

He’d left it up to her. Knowing her aversion to the press, and to the lifestyle of notoriety his success and popularity had created, he would never pressure her to go against her vow to steer clear of both. And yet, today there had been no press and no security details. She’d had a taste of the cost of her adamancy, a taste of laughter and joy and Jake. Her tongue slid over her lips, seeking his unique flavor again.
I might never kiss him again.

As the bike entered the busy downtown area of Vancouver, she leaned over to speak in Sam’s ear, then withdrew her phone from her pocket and texted her mother.

****

Jake roared into the underground garage and spun his bike into its parking space with expertise. He killed the engine and silence surrounded him again. Until that moment he’d lost himself in the thrill of speed, balance, and control. He’d gone for a long ride through the country, attempting to outrun the emptiness he felt since Siree’s departure. He had only the tiniest hope that she’d agree to see him again. Today he’d created an atoll of privacy rising out of an ocean of notoriety. He’d made it happen; no Gribbs and his team, no media hounds. But he’d pulled it off through pure luck.

Irony singed the edge of his humor black. Many of the women he’d dated had chosen him out of the desire to be part of the show. He’d made himself available to them and the press to suit his own purposes. Publicity meant power. And now, the only woman he wanted eschewed it all. His mother’s warm contralto murmured in his head.

You reap what you sow
.

Dropping his helmet into the storage compartment at the back of the bike, he moved toward his private elevator.

“You’re in for the rest of the evening.” Gribbs stepped from the elevator at the garage level. It sounded more like a statement than a question. If he thought for a minute Gribbs knew how to smile, Jake might believe he’d attempted one. Gribbs looked like a linebacker, but slipped past him with the ease of a wide receiver, while holding the door so it couldn’t close.

“Yes,” he clipped out. “Are you going home now?”

“I’ll relieve Tom on the monitors for a few hours. It’s all clear for the moment. I just sorted out an unexpected visitor.” His lip twisted up again in what could have been a snarl or a grin, his eyes always flat and watchful.

Jake guessed he’d just thrown some opportunistic photographer out on his ass. Gribbs did enjoy the physical part of his job.

“I told Sterling to take the night off. He won’t be back till morning. So if you need food, you’ll have to fend for yourself.”

“Right then, see you tomorrow.” Jake stepped into the elevator. Siree had taken his appetite with her. He grimaced. Even his thoughts sounded like cheap innuendo.
God, I’m pathetic. This is crazy. She’s just another woman. Believe it. Call Caroline or Vivian or Terry. They don’t interest me. I don’t feel like I’m bathing in sunshine when I’m with them, like my blood’s turned to champagne.

His fisted hand slammed into the stainless steel of the elevator wall. The elevator doors swished open and he stepped into his foyer, shaking the throb of pain from his fingers.
Now what did that prove, idiot?
Across the large living room the lights of the city gleamed. He barely registered them. His boots made muffled thuds on the customized runner that stretched in grey and tan swirls down the hallway to his bedroom. He’d have a shower and maybe make himself an omelet. The picture of Siree chopping mushrooms beside him flashed across his mind. He groaned aloud. She’d become an invisible part of his life. He could almost smell her. As he pushed open the double mahogany doors to his room, he imagined coming home to her warmth at the end of each day.

Then he saw her.

Standing across the room, her slender body almost lost in one of his white dress shirts, her hair flowing down past her knees. Like a doe caught against the forest green backdrop of his drapes, she froze in place, her eyes tracking him.

He moved into the room, half persuaded his imagination had conjured her. But, no, he would have pictured something realistic, like answering the doorbell and finding her standing there fully clothed. The pocket lights in the ceiling shone down on her hair, turning it to living gold. Gold coated the skin that rose from the deep V of his shirt, shone on the slender arms and hands that emerged from the rolled up sleeves. Her shapely thighs and calves hid in shadows, but he could see her dainty bare feet, watched, fascinated, as her toes curled into the carpet.

His gaze leapt back to her face. He realized he’d been staring, speechless for a lengthy period. She looked uncertain, her eyes falling from his, her arms suddenly crossing in front of her breasts.

“Well”—she cleared the huskiness away and tried again—“you said you wanted to see more of me.”

He took a few steps further into the room then stopped. He wanted to leap on her, crush her slender body against his large one, but he didn’t want to assume anything. Surely the way she had undressed, donned his shirt, signaled she wanted him. He fisted his fingers to stop himself from thrusting them into her silken spill of hair. The knowledge her naked beauty lay just beneath his shirt hummed like electricity threatening to blow the circuit breaker of his senses.

Siree’s eyes closed and she visibly shook. “I’m sorry, Jake. I shouldn’t have come. I’ve embarrassed us both.” Her voice quivered.

He cursed himself for leaving her to wonder about his response while he tried to guess hers. In three long strides, he closed the distance between them. “I’m not embarrassed. I’m stunned. I’ve wanted you here like I want air, and I still can’t believe what I’m seeing. You’re a beautiful fantasy come to life.” He reached to lift a heavy lock of her hair, wrapped it around his hand over and over, as he drifted closer. He carried it to his nose, breathed her in.

“I probably smell like you. I used your soap and shampoo.”

“I can promise you I’ve never smelled this good.” He remembered he’d been on his way to the shower, and stepped back. “And right now I probably smell like old goat. I was heading for the shower, then some food, when you so charmingly distracted me.”

“Why don’t you have your shower now? I’ll put together a light supper.”

Reluctantly, Jake unwound the hair from his hand and watched it fall back against her bare thigh. His eyes locked with hers. “You won’t leave?”

“Not if you want me to stay.” Siree lifted her hands to pull the hair behind her shoulders. Her breasts strained against the white shirt, rosy areolas clearly visible.

His throat became so dry he had to swallow several times to prime his vocal chords. “I definitely want you to stay.” He bent his knee, trying to shift his engorged penis to a more comfortable position. “I don’t expect you to cook for me, though. I’ll order something up from the restaurant downstairs.” He raised his hand to point toward the kitchen and found himself reaching for her hair again. He dropped it, forced himself to move away from her. “You know where to find the wine. Open whatever takes your fancy.”

She closed the distance he’d struggled so hard to gain, ran her fingers up his chest, and captured the pull on the zipper of his leather jacket. “I will then.” The teeth rasped hungrily down the metal, biting into the silence between them.

“Siree, you don’t play fair. I want you so badly I’m one gigantic ache, but I’m filthy from the climb and the stink of gasoline. That’s not what I want for your first time with me.” He feathered his thumb across her lips. “Let me clean up, okay?”

When he came out of the shower, a grey towel slung low around his hips, he found her not in the kitchen but back in the center of his room. She lifted a glass of red wine to her lips and sipped. He stepped close enough to take the glass from her hand and sipped in turn. “No dinner then? I can’t tell you how relieved I am.”

Her face lit with laughter. “I thought we should take care of one appetite at a time.”

“Top grades for getting your priorities straight.” He moved in closer, lifted the goblet to her mouth. She drank. He bent to lick a ruby drop from the plush cushion of her bottom lip then leaned over and set the goblet on a table centered between two armchairs. He cupped her face between his hands. “You can’t know how much this means to me.” He pressed a whisper soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Not just making love to you, though that tops my bucket list by miles, but that you’ve chosen to give me a chance. I’ll do everything I can to protect you.”

“I don’t expect that to be your responsibility.” She lifted her hands in turn and stroked the crease from between his brows. “I can look after myself.”

The tenderness in her touch, the warmth in her eyes, nearly unmanned him. He swallowed the ache in his throat. She’d come to him, offered herself to him. He wanted to make this the most perfect experience of her life. The importance of showing her she hadn’t made the wrong choice pounded out a rhythm in time with his heartbeat.

“Our first time,” he whispered against her cheek. “I want to stretch it out to infinity.” He laughed shakily. “And you make me so wild I don’t know if I can last beyond this minute.” He kissed the pink tip of her earlobe, then along her jawline to the tiny cleft in her chin. Reaching his arms around her, he enfolded her and brought her to rest against his tall frame. Laying his cheek against the top of her head, he curved over her, his hands stroking up and down her slim back. He felt the heat of her through the crisp cotton of the shirt, quivered at the pressure of her small hands resting over his heart.

Siree stood quietly, either letting him have his moment or enjoying it with him. Once before he’d held her, on the summit of La Verte, and felt the same sense of completion with her in his arms. Something shifted in his perceptions, slid sideways, and locked into a new place. Peace like nothing he had felt before enfolded him. For months he’d struggled against his nature, refusing to single-mindedly go after what he wanted. He’d fought himself to let her have the life she wanted, yet he’d never stopped seeking a solution. He’d done the right thing, the hardest thing he’d done in his life to date: sacrificed for her. And here was the reward he’d never expected to reap. Siree standing by her own choice in his arms, offering him her trust, offering up herself.

With a shaky breath, he lifted his head and cupped her face in his hands. Her eyes were bright with anticipation. Her quick little breaths patted his lips, encouraging him.

He brushed her mouth with his own, raised his head to watch her response and leaned down to brush it again. Each time he increased the pressure of his lips against hers and tested the results with his eyes. Her lips grew pliant, red, moist. Pink flushed her cheekbones, and her eyes glazed. When she lifted on her toes, seeking his next kiss, he felt the fullness of her breasts press into him. Her stiffened nipples nudged him to a new level. His towel slipped. Unable to contain his tumescence, it slid from his hips. He brought his hands to the buttons on Siree’s shirt, easing them free, and kissing each new piece of skin exposed. He tasted the valley between her breasts, the tender skin between her ribs, the velvet smoothness of her belly. The diamond-studded ring in her navel invited his tongue to play. He slid the shirt from her shoulders and lifted her into his arms.