Rocky Mountain Hero (To Love Again Book 3) (4 page)

Isabel dumped her wet and dirty clothes directly from her bag into the washing machine, added soap and set the switch. She rummaged through the freezer, dug out a container of stew, and popped it into the microwave. Waiting for the food to heat, she set out fresh towels and ran a bath loaded with bubbles and her favorite oil.

When the microwave beeped, she hurried along the hallway, her stomach screaming for food. She realized she hadn’t eaten since last night, before they made love in front of the fire. She lingered on the memory of Tray’s mouth on her neck, on her shoulder, on her nipples. Despite her tiredness, she tingled with desire. She let her mind wander over their evening together while she shoveled large spoonfuls of stew into her mouth, savoring the heat and chunks of beef.

Once again, she was struck by Tray’s lovemaking. He was quiet, confident and seemed to have no idea how incredibly sexy and gorgeous he was. She was starting to wonder if the whole inexperience thing wasn’t just a ruse – although she couldn’t think what the purpose was. Except to get an older woman into bed. Still, Tray had the looks that said he would never be wanting for a bed partner. Women would be lining up to be with him, of that she had no doubt.

Finished with the stew, she pushed the bowl across the table and let her head drop onto her folded arms. Just as she was drifting off, she remembered her bath growing cold down the hall, and the other bath, the bath she’d shared with Tray.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Nice weekend, Dr. Chapel?” Heidi squeaked as Isabel entered her waiting room.

“It was great,” Isabel said, continuing quickly through to her office, not wanting to invite more questions. Her assistant had a way of asking too many questions. Questions Isabel didn’t want to answer, and didn’t want to have to avoid. “Bring me the file for the Dufferins, would you Heidi?”

Removing her coat, she placed it on the hook on the back of the door of her private bathroom and was just settling in behind her desk, when Heidi entered with the file.

“Here’s the file, Dr. Chapel,” said Heidi, placing the folder on the desk. She waved a handful of pink slips. “You had a lot of calls over the weekend. I took these off the answering machine, do you want me to go through them for you?”

“Actually, no,” Isabel stretched out her hand to take the slips. “I’ll go through them.” Heidi’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, followed by quick disappointment that their morning ritual was being disturbed. Plus, it had been a long weekend, so there were even more messages than usual. “Would you mind running downstairs to get me a cappuccino? I have a terrible headache,” Isabel added as an afterthought. If she was sick, maybe Heidi would keep her cool distance. It bothered her to be abrupt with her, but sometimes it was the only thing that worked. Today, she didn’t have the stomach for it.

At some point during the previous evening, she woke to find herself asleep at the diningroom table. Leaving her empty bowl on the table, she’d stumbled down the hallway and fallen into bed.

The morning had not gone much easier. She pulled herself exhausted from bed and had to drain a bath full of cold water before she could shower. The last time Isabel could remember feeling so tired had been shortly after Chet had left. The strain had left her without resources, her energy depleted to a point where she could barely function.

This morning felt the same. The emotional toll of the weekend was catching up with her. The nervous excitement of the club on Friday night, the quick decision – and glorious sex – when she joined Tray to go to the mountains. Being caught in the snowstorm, almost stranded alone in the lean-to, seeing the elk, the terror of the encounter with the bear. It seemed that the entire weekend she’d run on adrenalin and heightened awareness and now her body was determined to catch up.

She had to push through, focus on her work. She couldn’t have it all be wasted. The Dufferins had been coming to see her for several months now. Opening the file, she scanned her notes. They would seem to make some progress, and then suddenly, they would slide backwards and things would almost seem worse. Isabel knew they were losing confidence in her and in her methods, had caught the quick glances between them during their last session.

She was determined to not have them follow the exodus of clients out her door. A piece of their puzzle had fallen into place for her on the drive back to town yesterday, and she had an idea that she was certain would work for them. Jaw set, she glanced at the clock, eager to put her new knowledge to the test.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The three young women leaning against the rail erupted into peels of giggles as Tray brushed past them. Eva, the tallest of the three, had pursued Tray relentlessly at the first of the term. She stood almost six foot tall, with raven black hair that cascaded over her shoulders and accentuated the curvy lines of her well-developed bust.

Everyone in class knew she was interested in Tray, and he’d taken a lot of flack from the guys when it was clear he wasn’t interested. Eva wasn’t his type, he’d protested. Eva is everybody’s type, they’d responded.

In the end, it just seemed easier to take her out. She was very attractive and he’d been flattered, but she really wasn’t his type. She was loud, flashy and flaunted her body through the hallways like a three-dimensional calling card.

Whenever Tray saw her coming down the hall, creating a wave of attention around her, he was reminded of Cat Woman, but he wasn’t sure if there was a real person underneath. From what he’d seen, she was all costume and no substance.

They’d gone to a movie, where he tried to ignore her closing in on him. He’d felt like a bug in a box. She dropped her popcorn and leaned over his lap to pick it up. Reached across him to throw her coat in an empty seat, being careful to rub her ample breasts across his chest. Feigned an eyelash in her eye that Tray had to help remove. Every move predictable, and none of them had worked. By the end of the movie, he had her hand firmly grasped in his – the only way to keep her from rubbing his thigh. Her head rested on his shoulder, and from time to time she would look up at him, flutter her lashes and whisper what a great time she was having.

She didn’t know him. Didn’t care to know him. Just wanted to be seen with him. He was the guy in class that everyone wanted to date, and the more aloof he was, the less interest he showed, the more they clamored for his attention.

After the movie, she insisted on going for a burger and shake at Peter’s drive-in. At the lookout, Tray held back on the obligatory make out session. Eva had other ideas.

She kissed his neck, stroked his thigh, tried to place his hand inside her blouse. Teased him, taunted him, and unbuttoned her shirt until her breasts spilled out, magnificent in the shadows of the street lamp. Surrounded by cars filled with other students, Tray felt the pressure and cursed himself for getting into the situation. He had no interest in this girl nor she in him. He wasn’t interested in casual sex, and that was all she wanted.

For reasons he couldn’t explain, he didn’t drive away. Part of him kept thinking it couldn’t get worse. But when Eva talked her way into unzipping his pants, reached gingerly into his briefs and said “Ooooh, what do you have here for me?”… it got a lot worse. Eva’s eyes widened as her hand groped for the expected hard-on. Her fingers brushed his flaccid penis, and she started to stroke, then pump. The final straw came when she licked her lips and started to dive for his groin.

To say she was insulted was an understatement. No one had refused her before. Months later, he still was the talk of the class. Couldn’t get it up. With Eva. Refused oral sex. His classmates thought he was gay.

He didn’t care what they thought. But he had wondered why he couldn’t perform with her. He was as red-blooded as the next guy. He didn’t have a lot of experience with sex, but he had enough experience with being excited. He was capable of a hard-on. He’d proven that, and had learned to take care of his own needs.

In the end, he had to believe that it was Eva. She was not his type. She was a flake. All costume, no substance. If only it was that simple. He’d experienced the same problem with other girls. So he’d decided that the problem was the girls. He needed to be with a woman, a woman who had the patience and gentleness to teach him to be a good lover.

With the girls’ laughter still ringing in his ears, his thoughts turned to Isabel. She was a woman of substance. From the get go he’d had no problem with her. He’d not only gotten and maintained an erection with her, but it seemed a constant state of affairs when he was around her. Or even thinking of her.

Yesterday, on the long drive home, he’d been aroused in spite of his feelings of failure. Just having Isabel sitting on the other side of the Jeep was enough to send him off, the upturn of her nose, the way the light bounced off her copper hair. She’d been sweet, hadn’t blamed him for anything. Her easy acceptance and non-judgement had filled his heart. Yet he held himself responsible for the fiasco. He should have checked the weather before taking her up to that ridge.

His years in the bush and in the mountains had kept them safe, but if he hadn’t been swept away by her and wanted to show her the best of everything, he wouldn’t have taken any chances. Now he wasn’t sure if he’d have the opportunity to see her again.

They’d been quiet on the drive home and she hadn’t expressed any interest in getting together again. When he suggested it, she’d only said she was too tired to think. He’d been tired, too, but once home he hadn’t been able to get his mind off Isabel. The image of her in the cave, the light of the fire flickering off her breasts, the taste of her nipples in his mouth. He was only able to relax once he took matters into his own hands.

He’d fallen asleep secure in the knowledge that all his equipment worked. He didn’t want to lose Isabel, but she’d fulfilled her part of the deal. She’d been a great Mrs. Robinson.

Entering the lecture hall, he settled into his usual spot in the back row, threw his books on the desk, and ignored the three young women as they giggled their way past him.

CHAPTER NINE

Isabel pushed the warm artichokes around the plate with her fork, swirling the olive oil and creating furrows of chopped garlic and peas.

“Well,” prompted Jenny, “Spill. How was it?”

“Don’t you mean, how was he?” Isabel giggled.

“Of course that’s what I mean,” Jenny replied, reaching for the San Pelligrino and splashing more first into Isabel’s glass and then her own. “However, given how tight-lipped you were on Saturday, I thought I’d take the back route to get the goods.”

Isabel laughed, and flicked her hair back over her shoulders. “You always get what you want Jenny, I’ve known you long enough to know that.”

She raised her glass and saluted her best friend. They’d been through a lot together. She’d only had a chance to really get to know Jenny after Chet left. Chet had been jealous of time she spent away with her friends. In spite of the time that he spent away with other women, he was adamant about keeping her to himself. She realized now that the jealousy was just one way to maintain control, to make her think her life might be normal because she had nothing else to compare it to.

She clinked her glass against Jenny’s. “Here’s to good friends and new lovers.”

“Don’t you mean young lovers?” Jenny’s eyes twinkled as she teased her friend. Isabel knew she could be relentless.

“He’s young, yes, but there’s something about him. A maturity, a groundedness-”

“A nice butt.”

“Hmmm. There is that. But seriously-”

“I don’t want to be serious,” countered Jenny. “I invited you for lunch. I want dirt, details, laughs.”

Isabel shook her head and smiled back at her friend. Jenny lived in the now, planned for the maybe, and never looked back. That’s not to say she wasn’t wise. Wise and wonderful, but also the most playful person she knew. There was a lot she could learn from Jenny and she planned to.

“I’m turning over a new leaf,” she said.

“Which leaf? The one Adam wears over his-”

“Jenny!” Isabel shushed her as the waiter hovered to clear their salads. He made a great display of placing their knives back on the bread plates and then swooping the plates away.

“You’re so conservative, Isabel. Who cares what the waiter thinks? Do you think he’s never heard the ‘c’ word before?”

“You’re right. Maybe I’m too conservative. I’ve spent the last few years constructing my life so everything is safe. Safe and boring.”

Jenny appraised her with a new look in her eye, ready to listen. “That was some weekend.”

“Being with Tray just made me come alive. It’s as if I’ve been living in the dark for weeks and months and years and finally, the sun has come out.”

Jenny piled more bruschetta on a bit of bread waiting for her to continue.

“We made love in the car, on the highway,” Isabel confided, leaning in and lowering her voice.

“While you were driving?”

Isabel nodded, eyes wide.

“How the heck did you manage that?”

“It was the most sensuous thing I’ve ever done. We didn’t have intercourse, obviously, but we did everything else.”

“You sound like a teenager, are you going to start talking in bases next?”