Something to Prove. Cathryn Parry
far as she could see, the mountain and its snowy outcroppings never ended. The line ahead was long, with dozens of empty chairs in front of them and empty chairs behind. She heard Brody’s contented sigh, his deep intake of the clean, cold air that smelled of freshly fallen snow.
She’d missed afternoons like these. Buried beneath all the memories of the fights and humiliations with MacArthur, there had been earlier days when she’d felt happy on the slopes. A flash of her mom’s face shone clearly in her mind. She had worried she would forget what her mom looked like, but sitting on this old-style chairlift, in this old-style resort, how could she? Not while she was in the winter and the snow and the mountains, Mom’s favorite place.
Leaning into the warmth of Brody’s body, she gazed up at him. Without him, she never would have realized these things. He smiled down at her, too, with eyes as blue as the sky. There was no doubt in her mind that Mom would have liked him. Above all, he was kind.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
He exhaled and his head lowered. It was the most natural thing in the world to meet him halfway.
His lips brushed hers, a light touch considering all his coiled power. Everything physical about him—his arm around her shoulders, his chest close to her chest, his muscular thigh nestled against hers on the bench—bled into her consciousness. Sighing, she parted her lips.
And that was it, the warmth burst into sparks. Brody gave a low groan. She opened her mouth and he kissed her deeply, his lips catching her upper lip while she gently sucked and drew him in. It felt so erotic and sensual kissing him that her head swam. All she could do was gasp. Her sexual feelings, so long stifled, were swamping her.
For months and months she’d been deliberately closing herself off, listening to Jeannie tell her how great it was with Massimo. For months and months she’d been fighting to establish herself in her chosen career by weekday, and advocating for her mother’s care by weekend.
Now it was her turn to enjoy some romance. She sighed and held Brody tighter, kissing him as if he was hers. And groaning, he kissed her back. Under the heavy parka, sweater, turtleneck and bra, her nipples came awake and peaked. Wriggling on the bench, she pulled off her glove to unzip her jacket, to settle herself closer to him.
“Manda—”
“Hmm?” Just as a wave was beginning to hit her, he broke away and raised the chairlift bar, then lifted her by the waist and glided with her down the short exit slope.
She felt breathless and dizzy, trying to orient herself, clinging to Brody. At the end of the path, he set her on solid ground.
Except it wasn’t solid ground. It was slippery, frozen snow. With her weak knees, her skis went out from under her. What a metaphor, she thought, but then Brody caught her and smoothly held her upright.
She inhaled a breath of cold mountain air and gazed up at him. His face was flushed.
“You kiss really, really well,” she said.
Humor was always good. Worked in every situation.
“I’m, ah, sorry about that.” He wiped his mouth. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
“Don’t ruin it. I’ve never been kissed so well.”
BRODY SHOOK HIS HEAD. Was he out of his mind? He hadn’t intended anything physical with Amanda, not at all. Maybe that was why his pulse raced as if he’d just finished a slalom run. And stupidly, all his body could think of was going back and doing it again.
Forget it. He swiveled and looked for the marker pointing to the Leopardo trail. Four trails originated at this lift, but he’d made a lousy decision because not only were the snow conditions icy and hard, but the Leopardo trail was too steep for a novice. He really would have to carry her to the ledge he’d wanted her to see, a loaded proposition given the way he’d already kissed her, but what choice did he have?
“Ah, Amanda, sometimes I ski with blind kids. I have them ski in front of me, and I hold their waists and guide them down the slope. Are you game to try that?”
“You do charity work?” she asked, that inquisitive reporter’s look wrinkling her nose.
“Don’t even go there,” he warned.
“Why? I’m interested in what you do.”
He glanced away so as not to get trapped by those probing hazel-green eyes of hers. “I have a foundation that works with kids—not just blind kids—but I don’t want to talk about it with a journalist.”
“Is that how you think of me?” She crossed her arms and frowned at him. “We just kissed, Brody.”
Yeah, no kidding. His body was screaming at him to take that one last step toward her and kiss her again, here in the snow at the top of the cold, darkening peak. Because he was burning so hot, he needed to cool down.
Two skiers came off the chairlift and turned toward them. “Hey, Brody,” one of them called. “Get a room!”
He muttered a curse. Which was a mistake. Because at the word, Amanda sucked in her breath and pointed her skis down the Leopardo trail. Planting her poles, she pushed off with a cry, tucking her body in a fair approximation of an alpine ski racer.
And damned if something about her form didn’t remind him of Jeannie Jensen. He’d seen the video—like thousands of people he’d watched the internet clip of Jeannie’s horrific, head-over-heels crash run last winter.
That’s why Amanda is afraid of skiing. Kicking himself, he followed her down the slope. He caught up to her within seconds, and the sight of her cute bottom in the tight black pants, wiggling from side to side, made his mouth drop open.
Yeah, she was hot, but it was her technique that shocked him. Somebody who knew their stuff had taught her to ski, whether she wanted to admit it or not. Maybe she wasn’t fast or aggressive—certainly not reckless like him—but she knew how to turn cleanly and plant her poles.
He was about to pass her so he could motion her to stop at the outcropping at the base of the hill, but when she saw what he’d brought her up here to see, she abruptly halted.
A MAGNIFICENT WINTER SUNSET spread orange and gold rays across the valleys of the Alps. Amanda stood on the ledge, her breath puffing in front of her, and thought she’d never seen anything so beautiful.
The scrape of skis against snow sounded behind her, and she knew without turning that it was Brody. She heard the clank of metal against plastic as he released his feet from his ski bindings, then the crunch of hard-packed snow as he stabbed the ends of the skis into the mountainside.
He stalked toward her and stepped between the backs of her skis. “What was that all about?” His voice was rough against her ear.
With a sigh she leaned back into his chest. “This is a beautiful sunset.”
“Someone taught you,” he insisted. “You have textbook technique.”
She nearly laughed. “You don’t know how ironic it is to hear you say that.”
And then, because she owed him an explanation, she did the difficult thing and told him the truth. “Okay, I’m just…upset because my mom would have loved it up here. That’s all.”
Brody’s cheek pressed against the side of her cap and his hands went to her waist. “Is she the one who taught you to ski?”
Her heart was going to break wide open if she wasn’t careful.
“Y-yes.” She bit the inside of her cheek and turned to him. “I told you, I’m a girl from the north country, and so was my…mom. Like you said, we all grow up learning to ski.” She faked a shrug.
“How long ago did you lose her?” he asked quietly.
She thought about deflecting him, but couldn’t. “Sh-she died two months ago.”