Come Fly with Me (15 page)

Mark had made her want to explore previously hidden facets of her personality, to seek out thrilling, new adventures. The man had even made skiing tolerable, for heaven's sakes! He must have a magic touch if he could make snow and icy arctic blasts of wind seem appealing. Well, she corrected, maybe not appealing exactly, but bearable.

But oddly, as certain as she was now of her own feelings, she wasn't at all sure he was in love with her. Not in the all-consuming, tender way he had loved Alicia. Deep inside she feared that she had just happened along
at a time when Mark had decided to end his self-imposed isolation. Never once had he actually said he loved her. Though he had made love to her during the day and, after they had moved to his bed, on into the night with a passion and gentleness that went beyond thrilling to some extraordinary place of enchantment, that was not necessarily the same thing. Even his marriage proposal could have stemmed from loneliness and need, rather than love.

Besides, she told herself as she mentally built a case for resisting the very strong temptation to say yes, she was nowhere near ready to relinquish her own fear of commitment, not after so little time and especially not when she had so many uncertainties about his feelings. What if she lost him eventually? What on earth would she do then? She might be older and wiser than that nine-year-old child who'd suffered irreparable emotional harm over her father's sudden death, but she was no less vulnerable, no less likely to be torn apart inside.

“Have you fallen asleep on me?” he taunted. “It's not very flattering.”

“No. I'm wide awake. If I hadn't been before, your proposal would have done it.”

“Well, then, what's your answer?”

She hesitated, unable to bring herself to say either yes or no. “Couldn't we just sort of live together for a while?” she offered tentatively as an alternative, pushing aside the awareness that even that slender tie would put her emotions at tremendous risk. “I mean whenever we can work out something. I do have a job to get back to, after all.”

He regarded her incredulously and his hands stilled in the middle of her back.

“How exactly do we
sort of
live together, if you're in Los Angeles and I'm here?”

“Actually I'm hardly ever in Los Angeles. I go all over the world.”

“Which complicates things even more.”

“Not really,” she said, pursing her lips thoughtfully as she weighed the possibilities. “In the long run, that should help. Boulder is sort of in the middle between L.A. and anywhere.”

“And you'll touch down whenever your route happens to carry you past?” There was an edge of sarcasm in his voice that she chose to ignore.

“Why not? Other people have commuter relationships.”

“Usually when they can't sustain one at close range,” he suggested dryly.

Lindsay winced, wondering how accurate the offhand remark might really be. She'd never really tried to sustain one at any distance. Still, she responded defensively, “That's not fair.”

“But I'm hitting pretty close to the mark, aren't I? You're afraid to stay here with me full-time, married or not. You're afraid you'll start to care too much.”

“I've already told you that I love you.”

“Saying the words isn't enough. If you mean them, then make a commitment.”

“It's too soon. Besides, you seem to have forgotten how I feel about this climate and the total isolation.”

He leered at her suggestively and one hand slid slowly around until it was cupping her breast, his fingers playing gently with the tip until it tightened into a hard bud and a white-hot core of heat built deep within her. Lindsay gasped involuntarily as a whirlwind of sensations ripped through her anew.

“I've always thought isolation was a pretty
good thing for newlyweds,” he countered, continuing his sensual assault.

“It probably is...on a honeymoon,” she conceded, trying to wriggle out of the path of his persistent, teasing fingers.

“Mark!” she said admonishingly.

“Yes.”

“Stop it. You're not helping anything.”

“I'm just trying to prove a point.”

“So am I.”

“Okay. I think I like mine better, but what's your point?” he asked grudgingly.

“That sooner or later we'll have to get back to real life and for you that means writing.”

“So?”

“What am I supposed to do while you write? Sit in a rocker down at the general store next to Jeb and compare notes on the spring seed catalogs?”

“Of course not. You can work, if you want to.”

“Fine. My job is based in Los Angeles and requires extensive traveling.”

“I meant you could work here.”

“Doing what?”

“I don't know. You're obviously an intelligent, talented woman. Check the papers.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” she finally exploded in exasperation, jerking the sheet up and wrapping it protectively around her so he could no longer distract her with his roving touch. “I already have a career.”

Mark shrugged indifferently. “I'm not convinced you're that crazy about it.”

His casual words struck a responsive chord in her and Lindsay wondered if he weren't closer to the truth than she'd ever admitted to herself. Maybe she'd only been trying to prove something to herself with this crazy job that took her to the ends of the earth and back again, never giving her a minute to herself. Well, she'd been up in more planes than she could count over the last few years, and while she hadn't exactly conquered her fear of flying, at least she'd learned to live with it.

As for the job itself, was she tired of it? Had she only been using it as an excuse to avoid involvements? Even if she had, she decided stoutly, Mark was not going to force her into making a decision she wasn't ready to make and she was definitely not prepared
to make this one, no matter how strongly she felt about him.

She glowered at him and muttered, “That's not for you to decide.”

Mark sighed. “No. I don't suppose it is. Maybe we should make another deal.”

Lindsay regarded him doubtfully. He was obviously even better at this “deal” business than she was. The last one he'd offered had gotten her in way over her head. Another one would probably send her under for the third time. “What's the deal?” she asked cautiously.

“We'll try it your way for one month.”

“A month?” she repeated incredulously. “That's no deal. You know the kind of work I do. I may be in Cannes or New York or L.A. for the next month.”

“Then it won't work out very well, will it?”

“Are you trying to set me up to lose?”

“No, of course not,” he said innocently, though there was a wicked glimmer in his eyes when he added, “but if it doesn't work out, we'll try it my way.”

“Exactly what is your way?” she asked skeptically.

“We'll get married.”

They seemed to be right back where they'd started. “How will that solve anything? I'll still be traveling.”

“No, you won't. That's part of the deal. You'll stay here with me.”

“Damn it, Mark. Haven't you heard anything I've said?”

“I've heard all of it.”

“And what it comes down to is that you expect me to make a choice between you and my career?”

“Why not? What would you do if you fell in love with someone who lived in Bangor, Maine? Would you expect to commute, would you leave your job or would you dump him?”

“Oh, don't be absurd. I don't even know anyone in Maine.”

“You didn't know anyone in Boulder until a few days ago. Now that you do, maybe it's time to sort through your priorities.”

“If that's not the most arrogant, chauvinistic statement I've ever heard in my life,” she exclaimed. “Who are you to question my priorities? Why should I give up my career, move to a place where you freeze to death in
anything less than four layers of clothing and sit around all day staring at the walls, while you lock yourself away in another room and write to your heart's content? What's wrong with you making a few compromises? You could write anywhere.”

“That's true,” he admitted slowly. “I could. But I hate Los Angeles and you said yourself you're never there anyway.”

“So get a portable typewriter. You can sit next to me and write on the plane.”

“Very funny.”

“Well, it's no more absurd than you asking me to give up everything,” she snapped, then sighed wearily. “Look, this is getting us nowhere. You don't want to live in Los Angeles. I don't want to live in Boulder. You apparently want me at your beck and call. I need my independence. Sounds to me like any judge would agree we've got a good case for irreconcilable differences.”

“Gosh,” he said with a wicked grin. “We're not even married and you're already throwing around divorce court terms.”

“I might as well start practicing. Can't you see this would never work?”

“Of course it would.”

“If I give in.”

“Only on one or two points.”

“They're pretty big points. Exactly how are you planning to bend?”

“Well...”

“I thought so.”

Suddenly he gave her one of those full-blown, dazzling, dimpled smiles that had gotten her into this emotional clench in the first place. “Am I mistaken or somewhere in the middle of all this did you agree to the basic idea of marrying me?” he asked.

“Of course not.”

“Then why are we battling over where we're going to live after we're married?”

She grinned back at him tentatively. “Because it's a safer topic?”

“That's what you think. You haven't heard all of the awful, rotten things I can say about Los Angeles. Do you actually want your children to grow up in a place where they can't see the mountains for the smog?”

“Do you want them to grow up where it'll take an hour for them to thaw out their little hands?”

“Now we're getting somewhere,” he said enthusiastically.

Lindsay looked at him blankly. “Where?”

“We're discussing this rationally.”

“You call this rational?”

“Well, in a twisted sort of way it is.”

She shook her head. “I think that's the problem. Your mind's warped from all this damp weather.”

“Would you rather just talk about getting married? I can do that.”

“What's the point?”

“We love each other.”

“We do?”

“I love you,” he said emphatically and with such absolute conviction that it rocked Lindsay back on her heels. She dropped the sheet and simply stared at him. Mark's eyes immediately lowered to take in her firm breasts. The warm appreciation in his gaze sent a ripple of excitement skittering along her spine.

“You do?”

“Well, of course. I wouldn't have asked you to marry me otherwise.” He looked at her oddly. “What did you think?”

“I thought maybe you were just tired of being out here all by yourself, which,” she added significantly, “I could certainly understand.
This place makes me crazy and I've only been here a few days.”

He shook his head as though trying to clear it. “Let me get this straight. You think that just because I'm tired of being stranded out here all alone, I asked a woman who wants to wander the globe to marry me? That doesn't make a lot of sense.”

“None of this makes any sense. I came here to get you to sign a simple movie deal and now you're trying to negotiate a marriage contract. The role reversal has my head spinning.”

“Good. I like to keep my women off balance.”

“Your
women
!”

“I meant my woman. You.” He tried to kiss her, but she ducked out of reach. “Only you, Lindsay. I swear.”

“Right. Exactly how often do you propose?”

“You're the first,” he said, suddenly sobering. “Since Alicia.”

“Oh, Mark,” she murmured, instantly apologetic. She slid her arms around him, her breasts brushing against his chest. “I'm sorry.”

“There's no need for you to be sorry,” he said huskily. “Just marry me.”

“I can't,” she said insistently.

To her utter astonishment, Mark freed himself from her embrace and casually jumped out of bed.

“Okay,” he said easily, striding toward the bathroom, thoroughly at ease with his magnificent nakedness. Her pulse danced a dramatic tango at the sight of him.

“Okay?” she murmured, unable to tear her eyes off of his muscular frame.

“Sure. We'll go see Grace. She'll be able to talk you into it,” he said confidently.

“Mark Channing, this is between you and me. If you can't talk me into it, no one can.”

“You just wait until you hear Grace try. She's very determined to marry me off. She's just been waiting for the right candidate to come along.”

Lindsay sighed as the bathroom door shut behind him. Grace Tynan was indeed very determined and her own resistance was weakening with every minute that passed. But she was not going to rush recklessly into a commitment that she might regret the rest of her life. She might not have a lot of experience
in such matters, but she knew perfectly well that no one in her right mind would decide to get married five days after meeting someone in an airport newsstand, even if he did have dazzling dimples and a sharp, irreverent mind that made hers spark and crackle just to keep up with it. They might have a rip-roaring, spectacularly satisfying affair, but that was the most that could possibly come of such a passionate, short-term encounter.

She picked up a pillow that was fragrant with Mark's masculine scent and hugged it to her. An affair was the most that could happen, wasn't it? she thought desperately.

An hour later, they were trudging through the snow toward the general store, Lindsay's mittened hand held in Mark's gloved one. Despite all that interference, she could feel the warmth of his touch flashing right straight through her. She was hardly even aware that the wind-chill factor was somewhere below zero and the snow drifts on the side of the road were up to her chin. Mark's unsettling ability to make her forget her surroundings was not a good omen for a woman who was trying to resist a proposal.