High Maintenance (3 page)

"I think I can
manage,
thanks." She hobbled to the white-tiled room. Staring at herself in the large, bright mirror, she wished she'd taken the time to apply makeup that morning. Her mother would be mortified if she knew Deidre wasn’t wearing makeup when going out with a man.

She washed her face and rubbed her cheeks to give them color. She'd been blessed with a clear complexion. Somebody had a sense of humor—her rail-thin sister struggled with acne for years. On the other hand, Renee had beautiful, straight blonde hair, while Deidre fought the
frizzies
in her wavy, dishwater-brown tresses. Her latest stylist had given her a cute, shoulder-length cut, for which Deidre was grateful. She barely had time to run a brush through her hair, so it had to be good enough.

She hoped tonight wasn't a mistake. Something inside her wanted to trust Rick, so she ventured back into the lobby with hopeful enthusiasm.

"Ready to go?"
He met her by the door, coat in hand.

"Oh." She looked at the jacket. Hers was upstairs in her room. "I don't have a—"

"Coat!"
He swatted his head absent-mindedly. "I should have remembered. I have a spare close by. Hang on one moment." He disappeared, returning quickly with a second ski parka. "Here you go. A little big, but it'll keep you warm."

"Thanks." She smiled as he helped her slip the coat on. It was big, but comforting, and it smelled wonderful, like his after shave.

He led her outside to the passenger side of a nearby black Jeep. "The restaurant isn't far, but given the circumstances, I suppose we should drive."

"Probably so."
She imagined having dinner then strolling around the beautiful ski villa, hand in hand. Without a broken leg, it sounded perfect.

The restaurant was close by and, as he helped her inside, she admired his choice. The little Italian bistro was charming, with red checked table cloths and candles on every table. Beautiful décor complimented the quiet and intimate atmosphere.

He kept a hand on her as the waitress led them to a corner booth. Rick made sure she was situated before he got in, scooting around the bench to sit next to her. He placed her crutches off to the side. "Are you comfortable enough? Do you need to raise your leg?"

"I'm fine. This is really lovely."

"The food is great too. I recommend the lasagna or the spaghetti. Both are fantastic."

"Either sounds great. You decide." She closed her menu. "Do you live here year round?"

"Sure do. When there's no snow, the resort is still busy with vacationers. There's a lot to do here in the summer, and the sights are just as beautiful."

"I never thought about coming here in the summer."

He ran a finger down the back of her hand. "You might have to think about it."

"I might," she agreed, gazing into his eyes.

He shifted closer, their thighs touching. Using one hand to curl her hair behind her ear, he spoke softly. "I don't think I've told you how beautiful you look tonight."

She shifted nervously in her seat. "Had your eyes checked lately?"

"No need to." He looked as if he was going to say something else, but the waitress returned, and he shoved himself away.

She took a breath and exhaled. His intensity intoxicated her. She hadn't been sweet-talked in a long time. But, she wasn't the type of girl to get too friendly on a first date. He'd find that out soon enough. Especially now—she glanced down at her hard plaster cast, an obstacle she wasn't prepared to deal with. Getting romantic with one leg in a cast didn't sound romantic at all.

He ordered lasagna and spaghetti for them. By the end of the meal he was next to her again, sharing bites on his fork, and she didn't mind a bit. Outgoing, charming, and handsome, he got better looking as the night wore on. Several times she re-thought her first-date rules, her mind waffling back and forth as her nerves tingled with anticipation.
 

They each drank a glass of wine with dessert, so Deidre felt relaxed and happy as Rick led her to his Jeep and helped her in. He glanced over at her and smiled. "I don't want the evening to end."

"Me either."

"It's a nice night. What do you say to a drive?"

"Sounds good."

He nodded and drove for a few minutes until they reached a secluded spot. The stars glittered brightly, the view of the mountains spectacular.

"Wow," she murmured as he parked.

"It's beautiful country up here."

"It certainly is." She settled back into her seat and looked around, enjoying the serenity.

A moment of awkwardness ensued when he reached out to pull her into his arms. "Damned bucket seats," he muttered.

"Damn cast." She looked at him and smiled.

"Forces are conspiring against us. Let's try again." He scooted closer, wrapping his arms around her. His mouth pressed against hers, his lips warm and inviting.

Deidre sank into the kiss, opening her mouth just enough to encourage him. He got the message, his tongue delving deep, batting against hers.

The kiss sent shivers through her body. Caught up in the exhilaration of the moment, she didn't pull away when his hand slipped under her sweater. She vaguely sensed him unfastening her bra. The whole thing felt surreal but wonderful.

Her cell phone rang, and they both jumped. "Ignore it," he murmured, his kisses heating a trail down her neck.

She wanted to. His mouth was moving in a direction she longed for, and it seemed like a rotten time to interrupt. It had to be one of her parents. No one else would call. "I have to get it. It'll just take a second." She reached into her jeans pocket for the phone.

"No." He rested his forehead against her shoulder.

She smiled at him, flicking open the phone.
"Hi, Mom."

"Deidre!
Where are you? It's getting late."

She knew he could hear and rolled her eyes for his benefit. "I told Daddy I was having dinner out. We're still out."

"Are you with that maintenance man?" Her mother’s voice dripped condescension, and Deidre turned the phone away.

"Mother," she whispered with irritation, "his name is Rick, and he's very nice. Please don’t speak about him in that tone."

"What do we know about this Rick person?"

"What do you know about any of my dates? I'm a grown woman."

"This is different, Deidre, and you know it. You've got a cast on your leg and you're not able to take care of yourself right now. If you were to get into a troubling situation, how would you handle it?"

Rick leaned back into his seat. She smiled at him and tried to reassure her mother at the same time. "Everything is fine. Rick is a gentleman. I'll be home soon, all right? I'll knock on your door when I get in. Goodbye, Mom."

"Be careful!" she called.

Deidre punched the off button. "I'm sorry."

He looked at her. "You think she believes that you're not in a troubling situation?"

"I don't know. She's usually not this way. It's just with the accident and all…"

"I understand." He moved closer. "Now, where were we?"

"Rick." She placed one hand on his chest. Speaking to her mother had brought her back to reality. On a first date with a man she barely knew, she realized she'd probably never see him again after this trip. She carried around several pounds of plaster and another forty of flab, unprepared to flaunt either in front of this handsome stranger. "I can't."

"Can't what?" He leaned in to kiss her neck. "Can't remember where we were? Because I think—"

"Stop."
She reached for his hand before it slid under her sweater again.

His eyes flashed. "What's changed, Dee? You were all for this before your mother called."

"I know. I'm sorry. I got carried away. I never do this sort of thing."

He sat up, grabbed the steering wheel, and took a few deep breaths.
"Pretty much what I figured.
Okay, I understand. I'll take you back to the resort."

"Please don't be mad." She reached for his arm, but he pulled away with a quick glance at her. The look in his eyes stunned her. He didn't look angry, more…hurt. "Rick?"

"It's fine." He drove fast, changing gears angrily and getting them back in record time. Without speaking, he escorted her from the Jeep to the resort lobby.

"I had a lovely evening." She tried to smooth the awkward silence.

He led her to the elevator and stopped. "I trust you can get back to your room by yourself? I'd rather not bump into your parents."

"Sure. I'm really sorry." She regretted her decision already.

"Nothing to be sorry about.
I'll catch you later." He pushed the up button and, once she was in the elevator, turned and walked away.

Chapter Three

Tugging off her sweater, Deidre felt lousy. Her unfastened bra made her feel even worse. She threw her clothes aside and sat on the edge of her bed, trying to decide how to remove her jeans.

She'd already told her parents good night. When she had reached their floor she knocked on the door and spoke with them for a few minutes, before hurrying to her room. She'd looked in the mirror and realized she still wore Rick's coat. Running a hand over the sleeve gently, she removed the jacket and hung it over the back of a chair.

He was the one acting foolish, wasn't he? What kind of a guy expected a woman to sleep with him on the first date? She'd never done it before, hadn't considered it—until Rick. Different from any guy she'd dated, Rick seemed charming, handsome, and intelligent, with a lot going for him. Something else—his large frame made her
feel
smaller, instead of fat.

Fat.
She'd hit on the root of the problem, right there. She hadn't slept with anyone since she'd gained weight. A couple guys in college, the first year, before her schedule had gotten so crazy that she didn't have time to date. Was she kidding herself? She'd always told herself she didn't have time to date.

Now she had time, even had the man.
What truly held her back? Slipping a nightgown over her jeans, she decided to sleep half dressed, rather than ask for help. She used the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and fell into bed.

Her mind raced with images of Rick. She wanted to believe that she was being a nice girl by not sleeping with him on their first date. She told herself it would be awkward with the cast.

The truth was
,
he'd been gentle with her leg all evening, careful to ask if she was comfortable. It wasn't the broken leg holding her back. She wasn't that nice. If they hadn't been interrupted, if she'd stayed in the surreal, fuzzy-headed moment of 'feel—don't think', the evening might have ended much differently, except for one thing.

Her weight.
She'd never actually faced it, because it hadn't been a real problem. She bought clothes off the rack. It wasn't as if she had to shop at specialty stores. When she dressed up, even wearing nice jeans, she thought she looked good. But the idea of facing someone naked had her shaking in her plaster cast.

She turned on her side, her body tingling with anticipation. It'd been a long time since she'd been with a man. If she truly wanted to change things, put
herself
out there and see what happened, now was the time. If it didn't go well, she had the consolation of knowing she'd probably never see him again.

If it did go well—she smiled. Maybe there was still time to turn things around.

* * * *

Her mother helped her dress the next day. She planted herself in the lobby while her family skied. Looking around for the better part of an hour, she never spotted Rick. Finally, she asked the desk clerk, who told her he was off that day. "He'll pop in sometime," the woman assured her. "He always does. Typical
man,
thinks the place can’t run without him."

"He's pretty handy," she agreed, remembering all the jobs she'd seen him do the previous day.

"He has to be. His father's making him learn all aspects of the resort before turning it over to him."

"His father?"

"Richard Beaufort, Sr., the owner."

"I met him." Deidre nodded, confused. "He sent flowers after my accident and visited me."

"He's a tough boss, but he has a heart. Actually, I think he's toughest on Rick. I guess parents are like that sometimes."

"Rick's father owns the resort?" Deidre blinked, stunned. He'd never given any indication that he ran the place, or would one day own it. She'd called him a maintenance man, and he hadn't corrected her.

A man approached the front desk, and the clerk turned to help him. Deidre returned to her chair, processing the new information. Her parents had acted like snobs in front of him, but rather than get angry, he seemed hurt. Why hadn't he spoken up? They would have groveled at his feet if they'd known he was the owner's son. Hell, they might have thrown her at him.