Playing for Hearts (52 page)

With Jace, she pretended his coldness meant she was pleasing him. At least he wasn't trying to change her. Juan's obvious approval made her feel good about herself and she wanted to continue putting that look on his face, so he'd continue to be happy with her.

“I know about your dad … what about your mom?” Juan stretched his legs out in front of him and laid his head on the back of the couch.

Dana picked at the edge of the blanket. “I haven't seen her since I was sixteen and moved in permanently with my dad. Our relationship had always been strained, even before that, but she viewed my decision to live with Dad as a betrayal of sorts, I guess. Phone calls dwindled, and now we call each other on Christmas.”

“I'm sorry,” he mumbled.

She shrugged. “It is what it is. I've come to realize I can't take responsibility for how my parents act.”

Juan laid his hand over her fingers, stilling their movement. “No brothers or sisters?”

She smiled. “Three stepbrothers from my dad's fourth wife. Aaron is ten, Max is twelve, and Jonathon is sixteen. They make dealing with my dad worth every minute.”

“You love them,” he whispered.

She nodded. “Yeah. It's weird, because I never grew up having to deal with siblings, but I love the times I'm asked to take care of them while my dad and their mom travel. They're great boys. Aaron and Max are big into video games, and Jonathon is into my car. He recently got his driver's license, so you can see why he likes staying with me in Colorado.”

Juan continued holding her hand. “Let me guess … a Porsche?”

She shook her head. “Of course not.”

He rolled his head against the couch and gazed up at the ceiling. “BMW?”

“No.” She laughed. “Really, do I look like a snob?”

He pulled her hand, and she tumbled across the couch until she laid her head in his lap. Her breath whooshed out of her. Sitting beside him on the couch, she could handle. The hot tub seating arrangement, she'd conquered, although she enjoyed it way too much. But lying on Juan's lap made formulating any sort of thought impossible.

“Only when wearing someone else's wedding dress,” he whispered.

She blinked. “What?”

“When I saw you the first time, I took you for a snob. You were throwing a fit about your canceled wedding and demanding your daddy fix your life.” He cupped her cheek, holding her from turning away from him. “I assumed you were spoiled rotten.”

“I'm not,” she whispered.

“I can see that,” he whispered back.

She closed her eyes for a moment before looking at him again. “I might be a little high-strung though.”

He grinned. “Yeah, a little.”

“And my Jaguar is sweet,” she added.

The corner of his eyes crinkled and he whispered, “I bet it is.”

She lay there thinking over the turn of events the last twenty-four hours. She'd gone from one wild idea to the next, but tonight, the clock stopped. It was just she and Juan. There was no mention of their plan on how to go forward.

If she closed her eyes — and she did — she could imagine this was real. They got along rather well, and conversation flowed evenly between them. She sighed. There was no denying she was attracted to him.

His kisses stayed on her mind throughout the day. Never had a man held her so tenderly while making her feel consumed. Defenseless to stop him — not that she wanted to — she'd surrendered to him willingly.

She yawned and snuggled deeper under the blanket that moved over her shoulders. Juan covered her, but she was too tired to tell him thank you.

He put his hand on her head and stroked her hair. He really was attentive.

Juan's legs were numb. He shifted out from underneath Dana and stood, flexing his muscles. The prickles disappeared as his circulation came back and he gazed down at her. She'd fallen asleep on his lap last night and soon after, he'd closed his eyes too.

Despite the awkward position and the less than comfortable couch, he'd slept all the way through the night. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so rested.

Dana surprised the hell out of him. He knew she was gorgeous and smart, but her humor and ease at talking with his friends last night had gotten his attention. The whole time he kept thinking she was a woman he'd be happy to take home with him.

Engaging, funny, and open, she'd put his teammates at ease. More unexpected, he caught himself forgetting that they were putting on a show for his friends. There were times he believed they were in a relationship. Maybe not married, because he had no idea what having a wife was supposed to be like, but having Dana by his side felt right.

She wasn't like most women. She used her energy to bring the focus to him, instead of herself. They had actual conversations, and it wasn't all about ending the evening in bed. Although his thoughts frequently went to having sex with her, the simple truth was he enjoyed answering her silly questions and cuddling on the couch.

Soft beeps went off in the other room. He hurried into his bedroom, grabbed his watch off the dresser, and pushed the button.
Damn.

Six o'clock, and he was due on the slope at seven. He barely had time to stretch, get suited, and meet the coach. He walked back out to the living room, glanced at Dana, and decided she'd be more comfortable in her bed.

He gingerly picked her up into his arms, along with the blanket, and carried her into the other part of the suite. An odd urge to keep her warmth pressed against him tempted him to miss practice. But the last thing he needed after narrowly missing another scandal was to miss an ordered practice. He reluctantly placed her on the bed.

She wiggled onto her side, drawing her knees up until she'd curled into a ball. He covered her with the blanket. Dana's lashes fluttered against her cheeks and she gave a contented sigh but remained sleeping. He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from touching her.

He'd met beautiful women before — dated models and actresses all the time — but what Dana possessed exceeded all others. She was complicated, argumentative, and mysterious. Her temper rivaled his friend Dominic's girlfriend, Diana. He inhaled deeply. She called herself high maintenance, but any man would enjoy keeping her by his side and experiencing all the different sides to her.

Life would never be boring with that kind of girl. He leaned over, placed his lips on the side of her head, and inhaled. Lust hit him low. She had all the qualities that appealed to him. Even her ability to tease and get silly came in the right amount.

He'd enjoyed their talk last night. The obvious love she had for her stepbrothers came through in the stories she shared. She dedicated herself to her work at her father's company, and there were times he suspected she wanted to talk more about her job, but something held her back. Most of all, she'd forgotten about their situation last night and finally relaxed around him. He saw the real Dana for the first time.

Before he could change his mind, he walked out of the bedroom.

Fifteen minutes later, he wrote a note and left it on the dinette for Dana to find when she woke up. Then, feeling stupid, he crumbled his message and threw it toward the wastebasket. What was wrong with him?

The upcoming Olympics needed his full attention. His marriage was a fake. The more he thought of having Dana around, the less he'd concentrate on what was important. He grabbed his ski bag and left the suite.

Coach Lindhurst waited for him at the chair lift. He dropped his skis, stepped into the clip, and skied over to catch a ride to the top of the hill.

“About time,” Coach said. “If your wife distracts you enough that you're late for practice, maybe you should send her home.”

“Are you telling me or suggesting?” Juan turned around, caught the chair, and held up a peace sign with his two fingers as he climbed higher in the air.

Coach Lindhurst stood on the ground, shaking his head. “Don't screw up, Santiago,” Coach yelled.

Juan slipped on his gloves. Despite sleeping on the couch, his shoulder suffered no ill effects. He stretched his arm over his head, breathing through the pull of the muscles. Remembering Dana's asking to help him last night instantly had him thinking about her again.

The only thing he wanted to do was get her in bed, so he could forget about the fascination he had. Hell, he'd passed fascination and was cruising in the obsessed lane. No matter what Dana did, whether she was picking up her dirty clothes or pouring a glass of water, he wanted her. Hell, even watching her walk through the suite while brushing her teeth got him hard.

Now that he was out on the mountain, he was glad he'd crumpled the note he'd written. Inviting her to ski with him after practice was through for the day was a bad idea all around. They needed to keep their lives separate. Less time around each other would make it easier to keep his hands off her. The last thing he wanted to do was screw around with her, and make it so an annulment was no longer a choice.

A divorce would send them both downhill at out of control speeds, and the end result would leave them both crippled for the rest of their lives.

The chair lift started the loop back down to the lodge. He slid off, skiing over to the others guys on the team. He'd practiced with the same men for over three years off and on. Maybe it was the competition that kept them from becoming more involved in each other's lives, or the stress of the season, but he found himself missing home.

Home was in Oregon. Soon, he'd be close enough to his real life friends to hook up with them and hang out. Life would go back to normal. Dana and the memories of their time together would be set up on the shelf, hopefully along with the gold medal he'd earn.

“You're up first, Santiago,” Travis said.

“Thanks, man.” He flipped his goggles down, adjusted his pole straps on his wrist, and prepared to launch.

His speed to beat: one hundred and forty miles per hour. He aimed to hit every mark today, but he wouldn't push himself to obtaining the record until he hit Germany.

The air horn blast signaled the start of the run. He pushed off. The powder descent after yesterday's snowstorm provided a smooth surface. Not a cloud in the sky, it was like skiing over the perfect ground. Juan lived for moments when the weather was clear, the trail unencumbered, and the only thing between him and the finish line was the clock.

The constant mental
tick, tick, tick,
urged him to go faster.

Straight and tight.

Stay low.

One more push, and he brought his poles in to ride out the run.

At the speed he traveled, he heard nothing but the
thrum
of his heartbeat. The rush of adrenaline that came from going faster than most people who'd put their foot to the metal on the highway gave him a rush. The risk of one fall, one mistake, knowing he defeated death doing what he loved accelerated the high.

He straightened and slowed his descent. Most people misunderstood his risky behavior on the slope, defying the rules of speed, as him being an adrenaline junky. For him, it was simple. Once he reached maximum speed, for a few seconds, it felt like he could fly.

Nothing could keep him rooted to the ground. Anything was possible. Soaring in the air meant he'd succeeded. He'd bettered his life. While proud of where he came from, his accomplishments gave his mother, his sister, and him a better life. A life without struggles.

He glanced at the clock. One hundred and twelve miles per hour.
Damn.

“Your head's up, Juan. Put your chin down more.” Coach Lindhurst tapped him on the helmet. “How are your legs?”

“Good,” he muttered.

Lindhurst grabbed his polyurethane suit, stopping him from walking off. “Shoulder?”

“Fine,” he said.

“Take one more run after T.T., and then you're on aerial. Coach Dobson has your gear ready,” Coach Lindurst said.

A half hour later, he skied toward the clock. One hundred forty one miles per hour.

He threw his pole toward the back of the lodge to celebrate his success. His smile came quick and if he wasn't afraid of looking girly, he would've punched the air. Instead, he skied to change out of his suit. His best time this week and he was back on course.

Inside the back door of the lodge, he glanced at Dana's shop. She spotted him and waved. He lifted his chin and winked. He wanted to rush over and share the good news, but he still had one more run. One more chance to truly fly for the day.

He used the dressing room reserved for the team, and switched suits, gloves, helmet, poles, and picked out his skis. He ran his finger down the backside, testing the wax. Pumped up on positivity, he wanted to end the day with a double win.

Once he was ready, he left the room only to find Dana leaning against the wall waiting for him. He stopped.

“Hey,” he said.

She smiled and stepped toward him. “Hey back. How's the skiing?”

“Good.” He grinned. “Did you sleep well?”

Did she sleep well? What kind of stupid question was that?

“Yes.” She shoved her hands in her jacket pockets. “I found your note.”

“Yeah, well … ” He turned his head. “I know you don't have time, so I thought I'd leave you alone and let you work.”

“No.” She reached out and grabbed the front of his suit. “I mean, I'm glad you thought about me, and I like to ski.”

“You do?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“What time do you get off?” he asked.

He was a freight train. Full steam ahead, right into trouble. The coach was going to kill him. But right now, he could no more tell Dana he'd changed his mind than he could say no to sex if she stripped all her clothes off and stood in front of him naked.

“Any time I want. Daddy put the shop in my hands. I set my own hours, so it's no big deal if I close a little early for the day.” She fought a grin. “And I'm not being a diva — I usually close early on Mondays and take Tuesdays off, because that's the slowest days of the week at the lodge.”