Jake's Biggest Risk (Those Hollister Boys) (22 page)

There were other scars as well, but she didn’t want to look closely. She’d felt them, though, as their bodies had moved together, her hands exploring his lean, hard length. It wasn’t the marks themselves that she minded, it was what they represented.

Damn it
.

It had been the best sex of her life, but she had to put some distance between them before she started thinking foolish things.

Just lust, she told herself firmly, going into the other bathroom and stepping into the shower. The worst part about lust was that there was no good way to get it out of her system. She could pretend it didn’t exist, that they’d scratched that itch last night, but she knew it would sneak back in when she wasn’t paying attention. And now she was going to compare every other man to Jake for the rest of forever, and they’d probably come up short. On the other hand, it was now more obvious than ever that she’d made the right decision breaking things off with Brendan.

Hannah shampooed her hair and rinsed it, wincing as she encountered a mass of tangles. Normally she braided it before going to bed, but hadn’t gotten around to the task the previous night...though they’d made serious inroads on the box of condoms Jake had bought, in between ordering a late dinner from room service and finding it offered avenues for sensual play, as well.

Forget him,
she ordered.

She stepped out of the shower and wrapped her hair in a towel, only to look up and see Jake watching her, his boxer shorts doing little to conceal his renewed arousal. Her breasts tightened in response, but she couldn’t weaken her resolve.

* * *

F
ROM
THE
COOL
expression on Hannah’s face, Jake was fairly certain she wasn’t interested in returning to bed with him. On the other hand, maybe her reserve had more to do with his coming in uninvited while she was showering. Modesty after the way they’d made love all night seemed a little odd, but he didn’t understand the female psyche any better than he understood the U.S. And despite his claims to the contrary, he obviously
didn’t
understand America or Americans.

Somehow that made him feel lonely, though nothing had changed except his perception. But part of him had always clung to the thought that he had a country where he belonged, even if he was never there.

“What are you thinking?” Hannah asked, sounding suspicious as she wound a larger towel around her body. While it provided coverage, it also teased and tempted, revealing the upper slopes of her breasts and an expanse of thigh.

“That you were right.”

He almost laughed at the shock on her face that he’d admit such a thing.

“I’m a mother—I’m right about a lot of things. What particular thing are you referring to?”

“That I really
don’t
know the customs of my own country. In some ways I feel more like a foreigner here than in Nepal and Tibet.”

“You’ve probably spent more time in Nepal than here.”

It was true. When he was a kid, the U.S. had been a stopping place on the way to somewhere else, not a destination in its own right. And he was in the States even less often as an adult. There hadn’t seemed to be any point in coming here, though he was starting to recognize that he might have missed a few good things about the place.

Hannah walked past him out of the bathroom.

“The Himalayas above Kathmandu are incredible,” he said, following her. “An endlessly shifting environment of sunlight and mist. You should consider going there one day.” He resisted calling it magical, though it
had
seemed magical when he was a boy, mist covering a mountain peak or stream as if an unknown force controlled how and where it moved.

“I’ll put it on my to-do list. But schoolteachers’ salaries usually don’t lend themselves to trips like that. Especially ones with a kid to send through college. I’ll be happy if I can take Danny to Europe or Japan someday.”

She sat on the edge of the king-size bed and pulled the towel from her head. Jake smiled ironically. His preconceptions about schoolteachers had
never
included a sexy, scantily clad woman with damp ropes of hair tumbling almost to her waist.
Lady Godiva,
he thought. He just had to get that towel away from her and the image would be complete. Well...except for the horse in the legend.

“Ouch.” Hannah had been combing her hair with her fingers and had tried to yank through a knot.

“Do you have a comb? I’ll help. After all, I’m partly responsible for those tangles.”

She regarded him for a long minute. “On the bathroom counter.”

He fetched the comb and sat behind her, easing the teeth first through the ends of her hair, gradually working out the snarls as he moved higher. Working on a woman’s hair was another new thing for him, and strangely satisfying.

“Aren’t you anxious to get back into the mountains?” she asked eventually.

“We’ll get there, but I don’t think they’re going anywhere.” Jake paused and thought of the horrific eruption of Mount St. Helens. “Not today, at least.”

“What about our plan to drive the North Cascades Highway?”

“Maybe another trip.”

“Summer won’t last forever. The road is closed part of the year, and I’ll be teaching after Labor Day.”

He didn’t like thinking about it, though if he hadn’t been working around Hannah’s committee meetings and parental needs, he’d be getting a hell of a lot more accomplished. Jake thought about the previous day when he’d packed up his gear because rain was coming. In the past he’d gotten soaked, half-frozen, nearly struck by lightning, even attacked by animals in his search for the perfect photograph. He
never
quit while there was an opportunity for a good photo, but yesterday he’d stopped because Hannah Nolan might get wet.

Yet his brain shied away from thinking too much about it. He liked Hannah and respected her, but he couldn’t let her become too important to him.

Remember Toby,
his self-protective instincts reminded him.

Toby had quit because Vera didn’t want him traveling so often. Still, Toby hadn’t looked unhappy about it, either. And as much as his former assistant had complained, he’d enjoyed the travel almost as much as Jake himself.

“There’s something I don’t understand,” Hannah murmured. “You love the high villages of Nepal in the Himalayas, but I understand the Sherpas are very spiritual, offering prayers in a multitude of different ways. You don’t believe in anything like that. How can you love the place and the people and not have any appreciation for their beliefs?”

Jake’s hands stilled in Hannah’s hair.

“It’s not a question of appreciation,” he said carefully. “I simply accept it as their way of life. And sadly, a good deal has been lost or changed since Sagarmatha was first climbed by Sir Edmund Hillary.”

“Sagarmatha?”

“It’s what Mount Everest is called in Nepal. In Tibet it’s Chomolungma...‘goddess of the world.’”

“I like those names.”

“Me, too. Tourism has changed the Sherpa villages. They were once so isolated. It’s a strenuous two-week walk over mountain trails to climb to the Khumbu highlands of Nepal from Kathmandu, but now there are landing strips for small planes, and it takes under an hour. Thousands of people arrive yearly, some who just want to see the country, and others who want to challenge Sagarmatha or other peaks.”

“Are you saying the Sherpas have lost their spirituality?”

“No, they still pray. They burn juniper with their morning prayers and in small shrines. They make prayer wheels and carve stone tablets and rock walls along trails. It’s part of the face of Nepal. Prayers are written on flags and banners and hung from trees or poles or stretched ropes. I think the people believe they’ll be carried to heaven by the elements.”

“It sounds beautiful.”

It did have a curious beauty, yet Jake no longer knew how he felt about it. Was it simply a charming tradition of people who lived in a harsh land and needed a primitive crutch to survive? Or was it a genuine sensing of something greater and more powerful around them?

Abruptly he recalled Josie’s anger when he’d written a few words and hung it with the other prayer flags, thinking of the climbers who’d lost their lives. She’d ripped it down, angry her son would participate in an “archaic ritual.” It was the only time she’d shown any emotion about the disastrous attempt to climb Sagarmatha and he’d wanted to scream at her. At least he’d
done
something by writing the words; he hadn’t just drunk coffee and silently stared at the mountain as if resenting the defeat.

Jake realized he’d suppressed the memory for years, and an ache grew in his gut.

Somehow the disastrous expedition when he was eight was getting mixed up in his head with the crash in the Arctic. Death had followed both, and he’d never talked to anyone about it...just attempted to take part in a custom that seemed to comfort the Sherpas. And curiously, he didn’t think Gordon would mind a prayer being written for him in a distant land. He’d seemed to have a universal acceptance of the world and how he was connected to it.

“Do you think they have pancakes on the room service menu?” he asked, determined to change the subject. “Or French toast?”

“Probably. But not huckleberry syrup.”

“Too bad. They’d make a fortune.”

They ordered a huge breakfast, along with a picnic lunch to take with them. He decided to keep their rooms for a return that night, though he suspected Hannah would keep the connecting doors firmly closed between them.

It should have been reassuring that she didn’t expect more. Instead it was damned annoying.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

B
ARBI
DROVE
OUT
to Silver Cottage early Thursday evening for a tutoring session and saw Jake down by the lake, taking pictures across the cove. He was out there a bunch. She didn’t expect him to see her. He got weird when he had his camera, as if the rest of the world was invisible.

She climbed the steps of the guesthouse and noticed Danny sitting on the lakeshore near Jake, intently watching the photographer.

Hannah opened the door before Barbi could knock.

“Hi. Since Jake is out by the lake, let’s work in the kitchen,” Hannah suggested.

That suited Barbi. She hadn’t thought she minded people knowing she was studying for her GED, but it wasn’t true. Hannah was okay. She understood about Vic, even if she didn’t know everything. And Luigi had been pushing her to do it practically from the first day she started working for him. But she didn’t want anyone else to know, especially Brendan, though her reasons had changed.

“Do you want coffee?” Hannah asked. “Or something to eat? I’ve got Chinese-chicken salad leftover from dinner, and Danny will just take it to Jake in the morning if you don’t have some.”

“Naw, I’m fine. I saw Danny outside. Doesn’t he get bored watching Jake take pictures?”

“He wants to go on some of the photography trips with Jake, so he’s trying to prove he can be quiet and not be restless.”

“Think it’s gonna work?”

“Not a chance.”

Barbi fidgeted with her books, then glanced at her friend. “So how’s it going with Brendan?” she asked casually.

Hannah’s face went blank as she sat down. “Actually, we broke up. And to be honest, I haven’t missed him. I know that sounds terrible, but I think we just
thought
we should be a good couple. It isn’t that we were bad together—we just weren’t
anything.
”

Relief flooded Barbi. “Then, um, would you mind if I...uh...asked him out?”

“Be my guest. But I have to say I’m a little surprised. You fight all the time. Well, except at the pancake supper—it was nice that you ate with him.”

“We fight, but I sorta like him under all that stuffiness. Only I’d never,
ever
do something if you weren’t okay with it.”

“Heavens, I know that,” Hannah assured her. “Don’t worry, I’m not the least bit interested in Brendan, except as a friend. Now, let’s talk about what you worked on while I was gone.”

Barbi took out the sheet of equations and wrinkled her nose. “I hate this stuff.”

“I’m not crazy about math, either, but it’s part of the test, and you’re very good at it.”

The praise was encouraging and Barbi watched as Hannah went over the papers, checking her work.

It was a relief to know Brendan was available. Eating pizza in the park hadn’t been a date, any more than having pancakes together, but she’d felt funny about it. Hannah was her friend, and between her different jobs and the problems with her father, Barbi didn’t have that many friends.

The question was how to make her move. She’d only had a few regular boyfriends—guys usually did a fast retreat when they eventually bumped into Vic, not wanting the hassle of dating someone with a dad like that. Who could blame ’em? Hell,
she
was leaving Mahalaton Lake to get away from Vic. It would take a while since she still needed her GED and to get a job that showed she had marketable skills, but she was going.

So why not have some fun with Brendan in the meantime?

It wasn’t as if she expected it to last. He was a freaking lawyer and she hadn’t even finished high school. And he had a rich, snobby family back in Boston who’d
never
approve of her. His ancestors would probably jump out of their graves if she showed her face east of the Mississippi, especially the ones who’d rubbed elbows with John Adams before he became president of the United States.

After an hour with Hannah, Barbi left with a new set of math problems to work out. She debated for a little while, then drove toward Brendan’s condo, deciding there was no point in being subtle. She might as well give it a shot and see what happened.

* * *

B
RENDAN
FLIPPED
THROUGH
the hundreds of on-demand offerings from the television cable company, unable to find a single thing that appealed to him. There wasn’t much else to do, either. Mahalaton Lake was devoid of nightlife except on weekends when there was a community event, but normally that didn’t bother him much.

Tonight he was just bored and restless for some reason.

There were restaurants, of course, and a bar just outside town. But a roadside bar didn’t hold any appeal—he had an uncle with a drinking problem and had always been cautious of alcohol because of it.

The internet was no more tempting. There’d been another email from his father giving the schedule of Massachusetts’s bar exams. Probably what made his father so successful was that he didn’t accept answers he didn’t like. He pushed and pushed, and as a result was one of the most sought-after litigators in the state. As for Brendan’s mother, she’d written that the two youngest Chester sisters were still single.
Hint, hint
. The Chester girls were interchangeable to Brendan, but his mother liked their social desirability.

Tossing the remote control to one side, Brendan glanced around the living room. Kind of empty and dull. Even when he’d been sick, he’d noticed how Barbi had brightened the place up with her blond hair and impudent smile. What an idiot he’d been not to see beyond the clothes and in-your-face attitude earlier. He’d met her months before meeting Hannah.

The bell rang and he considered not answering, but finally got up and opened the door.

“Barbi,” he said in shock.

“Hey, Brendan.” She smiled sassily. “I understand you and Hannah aren’t an item any longer.”

“That’s right.”

“Good. Because I’m coming in.”

Confused, he stepped back while she marched through the door, kicking it shut behind her.

“Would you, uh, like a glass of juice or cola?” he managed to ask. “I don’t have any wine or beer.”

“I don’t drink...and I’d much rather have a glass of
you
.” She tugged her tight tank top over her head and threw it across the room.

The sight sucked the air out of his lungs. He’d thought her tight clothing left few unanswered questions about her figure, and he was partly right...and partly wrong. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her breasts rose high and full above her slim waist, just waiting to be touched.

“Aren’t you going to take your turn?” she demanded before he could react.

“What do you mean?”

“This is like tennis. I take off a piece, then you do. Then I do. Then you do. Whoever runs out of something to take off
last
gets to be on top.”

Now
there
was a game he liked...and wanted to lose.

He loosened his tie and threw it behind him. Barbi tugged at the waistband on her jeans, then stopped and grinned. She unfastened her beaded necklace instead and dropped it on the coffee table.

Brendan quickly evaluated how much he was wearing...and how much Barbi had left, and knew he’d finish last unless he got creative. But at least he wasn’t still wearing his suit jacket and vest. He shrugged out of his shirt, somehow getting his hands free of the cuffs without removing his cufflinks. A faint ripping sound accompanied the effort and the links went flying, but he didn’t care...as long as Barbi ended up on top.

One of her bangles landed on the table next.

Good, she had at least three more on her wrist. That would help. Brendan unfastened his pants and let them fall, managing to get both his shoes off at the same time he kicked free of the pants. His socks didn’t cooperate—they remained on his feet.

She grinned.

“Mmm,” she murmured, looking at the tight fabric of his underwear with approval. “From what I can see, that’s some impressive equipment.”

“Yours is better,” he said, unable to keep his gaze from her perfect breasts.

Her ankle bracelet followed, then his right sock, her left sandal and his left sock.

“We’re tied,” he announced, glancing at the wisp of lingerie around her hips. His own briefs felt so tight he wanted to howl.

“Nope,” she said with a speculative examination of his lower body. “I’ve still got three bangles.” She dropped a second bangle on the table.

“Yeah, I have the damnedest luck,” he observed, his heart pounding with anticipation.

“You’re next.” She inspected him boldly.

His briefs dropped to the floor a moment later, and he closed the gap between them. “You win, but that means I get to help take off everything you have left.”

“I like good losers,” she whispered, tracing her tongue down the side of his neck and shimmying a little against him.

The movement nearly brought him to his knees.

Hooking his thumbs through the narrow fabric on her hips, Brendan dragged it down, kissing her neck, between her breasts...and the smooth, taut skin of her belly. He eased the underwear farther down, taking his time, until it lay on the floor.

“Okay. Into the bedroom, pal,” she ordered. “You’re gonna want something soft beneath your butt.”

He grinned and grabbed her hand.

* * *

J
UST
AFTER
DAWN
Brendan woke and looked at Barbi lying asleep in the bed next to him. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined he’d be with her, particularly after the way they’d argued over the past fourteen months.

Foreplay
.

He’d never been with anyone like her. She awakened things he’d never experienced—adventurous, gut-level responses that made him feel fully alive for the first time. It wasn’t just the sex—it was the way she attacked life, with no holds barred.

Of course, the sex
was
spectacular, and Brendan’s grin grew as he remembered making love in the kitchen, the shower...even the closet where they’d landed accidentally, not realizing the door was open. Around midnight they’d gone searching for a fresh supply of protection and had risked getting arrested when they stopped to use some of it at a pullout on the highway coming back from Lower Mahalaton.

“What are you grinning at?” Barbi asked sleepily.

She was curled on her side and he smiled. “I was just thinking my car had to be better than your small Chevy for making out. ’Fess up—you’re glad we took the Lexus.”

“It wasn’t bad.”

“Not bad, she says. I would have broken my back in your little car.” Barbi lightly dragged her fingernails up his thigh, sending instant heat to his groin. “Not that I would have minded,” he said hoarsely.

“That’s better.”

Brendan frowned at a set of faded bruises on the inside of Barbi’s wrist where she always wore her bangles. He lifted her hand and lightly brushed the yellowing marks. The way the bruises were aligned looked suspiciously like someone had grabbed her, digging in hard with their fingers.

“What are these from?”

“Oh, nothing.” She shrugged.

“They don’t look like nothing. Did one of your pizza-delivery customers do that?” he demanded. “You don’t have to put up with stuff like this, Barbi. Call the police and get them arrested for assault.”

“It wasn’t a customer. I just banged something. I do it all the time.”

“Barbi—”

“Brendan.” She mimicked his tone. “It’s fine. I clean offices and work in the bakery and stuff, so I always have bruises. Right now I’d rather take another shower than discuss something this tedious.”

Brendan’s body instantly went on alert. He’d chosen his condo because it had a huge walk-in shower with jets on two sides and a glass firebrick wall that let in natural light at the end. The sun was coming up, and Barbi would look great in the morning glow. Of course, she looked great anywhere.

She bounced out of the bed, vibrant and flushed with desire, her silky blond hair tumbling over her breasts making her look like an impudent mermaid.

“Slowpoke,” she said, stretching slowly to great effect.

* * *

B
ARBI
LICKED
HER
lips, deliberately catlike, and disappeared into the bathroom.

She’d hated fudging the truth about the bruises, but Brendan didn’t need to know about her father. Not yet. Besides, a long, hot shower
did
sound nice; her muscles were deliciously tired from the workout she’d given them. It turned out that missionary position wasn’t the only way Brendan liked sex. As a matter of fact, he liked it just about any way. And he was awfully good at it, too.

She grinned as she heard footsteps behind her. Flipping on the water, she turned to look at Brendan.

He stepped forward, his arousal already protected by a latex sheath. He soaped his hands, exploring and teasing her breasts, tugging her nipples and whispering sexy suggestions that didn’t sound the least like a staid barrister from Boston.

She was startled when he lifted her abruptly and thrust fiercely into her, muttering, urging, demanding, until the world became focused entirely on the juncture of their bodies, whirling faster and faster until she shattered.

Much later she lay draped across Brendan’s chest on the bed, sated and lethargic before she glanced at his clock.

She bolted upright.
“Ohmigod, is that the time?”

Brendan glanced at the bedside clock. “Yeah. I may call in and tell my secretary to cancel my appointments. All two of them. Friday is usually a slow day, thank God.”

“I have to go to work.”

“But Luigi’s doesn’t start delivering until four this afternoon. Aren’t women supposed to like afterglow? Where’s my afterglow?”

“Sorry, but I clean at Memorial Hall on Thursdays and Fridays.” She scrambled away, hunting for her clothes. However much she’d love to spend the day in bed with Brendan, she couldn’t blow off her jobs. He wasn’t permanent, and it wouldn’t be right to leave her various employers in the lurch.

“See ya,” she said, giving him a kiss with plenty of tongue action.

“Tonight,”
he replied firmly. “Meet me here after you’re done at work. I’ll get a can of whipped cream.”