Fireside (33 page)

Except it didn’t work that way. Crazily, he gathered speed with centrifugal force, violating the laws of physics so many times, he ought to be arrested.

He heard the roar of voices as he cleared the lip of the pipe. Saw a patchwork of blue and white, the sky and snow, and beneath him, he felt absolutely nothing. He was weightless, flying. Ascending to heaven.

Okay,
he thought.
This is the part where I’m supposed to wake up and realize it was all a dream.
Instead, from a terrifying height, he dropped like a bird shot from the sky.
Boom.

A mushroom cloud of snow erupted all around him.

Moments later, AJ, Kim and the two boys gathered. “Are you okay?” AJ demanded, his voice edged with concern. “Dad! Are you all right?”

For a few seconds, Bo lay still. He wasn’t injured, but savoring the sound of AJ calling him Dad.

“Hey, Dad.” AJ nudged him. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Bo said, grinning. “Just peachy.”

“Cool,” AJ said. “You were awesome.”

Bo rubbed the snow from his goggles and focused on Kim. “
Now
can I go inside, coach?”

“Lemme help you up.” AJ extended his hand.

So this was new. For the sake of this boy, Bo had done something way out of his comfort zone. A startling thought struck him—this was something a father did, every day. Bo had never experienced it firsthand. His concept of a father came not from what he had, but from what he lacked.

It came from AJ himself. It didn’t matter that he’d practically done himself in, that he was sitting half frozen in a snowbank. It didn’t matter that he was dying to be indoors, by the fire, nursing a beer. He looked at AJ and thought, that smile is worth everything.

Twenty-One

A
fter dinner, Kim found Bo in front of the fire with his hands clasped behind his head and a wide, somewhat sleepy grin on his face. As she stood unobserved in the doorway, she felt a surge of lust.

I’m an idiot,
she thought.

But there was no denying the truth. Athletes were her weakness. And this particular type—long-haired, long-limbed and bad for her—had been her downfall.

Taking care to erase all evidence of attraction from her face, she stepped into the room and perched on the arm of the settee. “You certainly look happy with yourself.”

“This is what they call in Texas a shit-eatin’ grin,” he explained. “And, lady, I earned it today.” He picked up the stereo remote and turned on some music. Vintage Neil Young drifted from the speakers. Bo was a fan of the pedal slide guitar, something she’d never given much thought to until he’d introduced it to her. “I ache in every part of my body,” he said, “is how I earned it. I ache in places I didn’t know I had.”

She caught herself thinking about his “places.” She had no business thinking of such things, but couldn’t help herself. “Snowboarding will do that to a person.”

He poured two small glasses of peppermint schnapps and handed her one. “To you, for making me face my fear.”

She sipped the fiery clear drink. “Apart from the whining, you did all right.”

“How about you? Are you feeling all right?” he asked.

“Perfect,” she said. She watched the flames dancing in the grate, pleasantly mesmerized. “A day on the slopes always leaves me feeling perfect. How’s AJ?”

“Dead asleep. You saw him at dinner,” Bo said. “He practically fell asleep in his lasagna. He could barely drag himself up the stairs. Almost didn’t make it to bed, and he was asleep before his head hit the pillow. But it’s a good kind of tired. He sure had fun today.”

“That was the whole idea, right?”

“It worked out even better than you promised. It was good to see him hanging out with kids his age.”

“He’s so great, Bo. You must be proud of him.”

“I am, although I can’t take any credit for it. That goes to Yolanda.”

Kim stayed quiet. He rarely mentioned her by name.

“I can tell she’s been a good mother,” he added. “Raised him well. She sure as hell doesn’t deserve what’s happening to her.”

Kim wondered what it was like to have such an intimate connection to someone, to make a child, and then…nothing. “I know she’ll be grateful to know you’re taking good care of AJ.”

“I guess. No idea what she’s like anymore.”

“But you did love her,” Kim said, though the statement was a question.

“We were kids,” he said, “but, yeah. In a way teenagers are in love.”

“Was she your first…you know?”

“You’re sure curious tonight,” he said.

She was. She wanted to know everything about him. “Well?”

“Okay, she wasn’t my first,” he said. “But it was the first time it was my idea. And that’s all you’ll get out of me about that, so don’t even ask.”

“Fine, then don’t ask me, either.”

“I won’t, because what matters to me is you, right now.” He laughed softly. “I never thought I’d be thanking somebody for dragging me up a mountain and forcing me down on a snowboard, but thank you. It’s the happiest I’ve ever seen AJ.”

“You’re welcome.”

He angled his glass in her direction. “I’d raise a toast to you, but I can’t lift my arm.”

“Is that going to affect your pitching?” She laughed at his expression. “And does whining ever help?”

“Hey, I’m wounded.”

She couldn’t help herself; she examined him from stem to stern. “Where?”

“Everywhere. But especially my…neck and shoulders. Yeah, if you could just massage the kinks out—”

“I could, but I won’t.”

“Come on. You do me, and then I’ll do you. And, yes, I know how that sounds.”

“I’m not sore at all,” she said.

“But I am, and I need help. Come on, have a heart.”

“You’re a big baby, you know that?” Yet she got up and stood behind him, gently kneading the large, powerful muscles of his neck and shoulders. Her excuse was that maybe this close contact would satisfy her stupid craving to be near him, to touch him. She could get it out of her system—yet she knew the thought was a lie the moment it occurred to her.

He let out a blissful sigh. “You have me pegged,” he agreed. “A big baby.”

The feel of him under her hands only made her wish things she shouldn’t be wishing. “I can’t believe snowboarding gave you aching shoulders,” she said.

“There are parts of me that ache worse,” he said, tipping back his head to look at her. “But it would be ungentle-manly for me to ask for a massage there.”

She swayed slightly toward him and hoped he didn’t notice. He’d taken a shower after they got home, and he smelled wonderful. “I didn’t realize you cared about being gentlemanly.”

“Normally, I don’t.” Then he added, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, “And then I met you, and now it matters a lot.”

She let go of him and stepped away, taking a seat at the opposite end of the sofa from him. This had to be a new form of flirting—promising a woman he would improve himself for her sake.

“So I’m ready when you are,” he continued.

She nearly choked on her schnapps. “Ready for what?”

“Aren’t you supposed to teach me to be a gentleman for the media?”

All right, she’d been wrong. He wasn’t flirting or looking to improve himself to impress her. This was a career move. Of course it was—as it should be.

“Not tonight.” She drew her knees up to her chest, looped her arms around them. Yet even in the protective tucked position, she couldn’t stop herself from staring at his mouth.

“What can you teach me tonight?” He stared right back.

“I thought you were tired,” she said. “I thought you were sore.”

“I’m better now. Your massage cured me. I’m just…damn, Kimberly…” He moved in close, cornering her on her end of the sofa, gently trapping her. On one side she could feel the glow of warmth from the fire. On the other was Bo, a wall of solid heat. He was making a mockery of her vow to resist him.

She tried. She really did, curling her hands into fists and pushing against his chest. But after the hot tub at Camp Kioga, it was even harder to keep her distance. Somehow, it only seemed to draw him closer, a gesture of resistance that turned into a kiss.

She rationalized the impulse. Perhaps this time she wouldn’t be so swept away, as she’d been after the photo shoot. Perhaps she’d discover her interest was misplaced. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been taken in by a pretty face and great hair. Here was a guy with an agenda, a guy who had too much going on in his life, who had a whole host of priorities stacked above her. How good could it be?

As it turned out, this was not just any kiss. This was her favorite kind. The I’ve-been-wanting-you-since-the-moment-I-saw-you kiss. Making out in the hot tub had only been a prelude. He was tender and generous, yet at the same time completely honest, in a nonverbal way, about what he was feeling. He held her close and kissed her and told her with every inch of his body exactly how he wanted her.

Kim felt dizzy with the sheer, raw need she felt. It was a powerful contrast to the usual warm attraction she’d had for former boyfriends—even Lloyd, whose memory spun away on a wisp of thought. All of those past desires were burned to ash when she kissed Bo Crutcher. She’d thought the first time had been a fluke, that she’d felt turned on by the moonlit setting and the champagne, and the completion of a fine day of work at something she loved.

Now she couldn’t deny that there was a lot more going on. This was so wholly unexpected that she pulled back with a gasp, torn between bolting for the door and asking him for more. The latter impulse nearly won out. Her limbs felt warm and heavy, and all she wanted was to melt against him. Drawing on her last reserves of willpower, she tried to pull away.

“Not so fast,” Bo whispered, keeping his arms around her. “I’ve been wanting to do this again ever since that time in the hot tub. And I got to say, honey, I am not disappointed.”

She tried to deny the warm affection she heard in his voice. “This is such a bad idea. How many reasons do I need to give you?”

“None, because none of them would make a bit of difference for me,” he said easily. “And I lied earlier. There is something I’m disappointed in.”

She extricated herself from his embrace and sat back, arms folded in a shield across her chest. Now he was talking like the kind of man she had sworn off. Self-absorbed. Critical—hypercritical—of others. Particularly of her.

“You’re disappointed in me,” she said.

“In us,” he corrected her.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He smiled, then gently unfolded her arms. He leaned forward to press a kiss to her mouth, the light play of his lips on hers slowly dismantling her resistance. He tasted and felt so good that her toes curled inside her woolen socks.

“Honey, what I mean is, don’t get me wrong. I like making out with you. But I’m disappointed, because what I really want is to make love to you.”

Kim didn’t move a muscle, but she knew she was inches from a mad impulse to rip off her clothes, right then and there. She tried to take offense. “That’s rude.”

“Rude to want you, or rude to say so?”

“Both.” She realized she was still clinging to him. She let him go. Instantly, she grabbed him again. This was insane, but she couldn’t help herself. “We’ll go to my room. And you’re not spending the night. And we’re not telling a soul.”

“Those are your ground rules?”

“Yes.” She jutted her chin up in defiance.

He offered a low, murmuring laugh. “Yeah? Well, I got a few rules of my own.”

Good, she thought. He was going to spoil everything by being a jerk. And then she wouldn’t be attracted to him anymore, and that way, no one would get hurt.

“What kind of rules?” she asked.

“Rule number one is, you let me know how you want me to make love to you. I mean that. I want to know what you like, and you have to tell me without getting all bashful about it. Or, if you can’t help feeling bashful, you could try to let me know like this. Hand signals.” He demonstrated, his hands slipping up under her sweater.

She was so stunned, she neither spoke nor moved.

“Rule number two is, you have to let this be all about you. No worrying about reciprocation, nothing like that. Because believe me, if I’m making love to you, I’m already getting exactly what I want.” With studied gentleness, he slid his hand down and unbuttoned the waistband of her jeans.

“And rule number three is, no faking orgasms. I can’t stand that. I don’t take shortcuts and I’m not in a hurry. Which leads me to rule number four.” He bent low and whispered, his breath warm in her ear.

Prior to this whispered suggestion, which made her blush to the roots of her hair, she’d believed she had a shot at resisting him. Now, however, she was a goner. She didn’t even remember leaving the room and taking his hand, leading the way upstairs to her bedroom. She barely heard the gentle creak of springs as they fell together onto the bed.

Then he kissed her in earnest, and she didn’t think at all. The day spent out in the cold, in vigorous physical activity, suddenly took its toll. Coupled with the narcotic effect of the peppermint schnapps, she felt amazingly relaxed. Their bodies seemed to fit perfectly together. He was big and warm, and seemed happy enough to lie still for a while and hold her. Just as he’d promised, he made no hurried demands, just showed a curiously sweet affection.

“What’s this sweater?” he asked, toying with the front of it.

She watched his hands steal upward, over her rib cage. “Your excuse to feel me up.”

“No, I mean, yeah, I intend to feel you up. But this sweater. What’s it made of? It’s really soft.”

“Angora.”

“Nice. Makes you feel like a giant plush toy I won in a shooting gallery.”

She was trying to decide what to make of the remark, but it only made her laugh. “I’ve never been called a giant plush toy before.”

“It’s meant as a compliment. Everybody loves a plush toy. I like your green eyes, too. They remind me of my favorite flavor of Jelly Bellies.” He started kissing her again, and she let him, thinking perhaps the newness would wear off and she would not feel so desperate with wanting him.