Tall, Dark And Daring
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While she was thinking of a way to linger, a boy broke free from the skating pack and careened toward them.
“Look out!” he shouted, his face contorting into a theatrical version of fear.
“Hey, Joey,” Mitch called. “No pratfalls over my guest.”
Seconds before slamming into their bench, the boy regained control, gliding to a stop beside Mitch.
“Pretty good, huh?” The kid tried to play it cool, but he looked at Mitch with undisguised hero worship in his eyes.
Garbed in the garish colors the snowboard crowd favored, the boy looked to be somewhere between eight and ten years old.
Mitch ruffled the boy’s hair. “Did your mother tell you I’m busy this week with business?”
Joey grinned. “That’s okay, I think I’ve got all the moves down.”
“Yeah, right. Stay out of trouble this week and I’ll take you to Whiteface next week when I have some time.”
“Really?” The boy’s cool facade vanished, and his voice was pitched a notch higher.
“Really. Now take yourself off so I can get some work done.” Mitch gave the kid a nudge and sent him cruising backward on his skates.
Tessa watched the exchange with interest, curious about the ties Mitch seemed to have to the community. He’d been more of a wanderer when she’d first met him.
“That’s Daniela’s son,” he explained. A smile played about his mouth. “You remember, the maid who was with me when I came into your room when you were, um…”
He touched her shoulder and skimmed his fingers down the length of her arm, a vivid reminder of the caress he’d given her earlier when only a blanket had separated her naked body from him.
Tessa straightened, prepared to curtail any flirting before it started. “He seems very nice.” She searched for a new conversational route before Mitch could look at her with that teasing light in his eyes again. “So where are you living now? At the hotel?”
He had dropped the subject of Tahoe and his accident so fast she hadn’t figured out where he called home at the moment.
“I got a good deal on a log cabin a mile up the road from the inn.”
“You bought it?”
“You sound surprised.”
She shrugged. “I can’t picture you settling down in one place.”
“I’m grounded for awhile.”
His grimace made it clear he found the idea of staying put as painful as the monstrous fall that stalled his former career two years ago.
“It’s been a long time since I read the article about your accident, Mitch.” She’d practically memorized it, actually. Yet she wanted to hear his version. “What happened?”
“Stupidity.”
She wouldn’t press. She watched a family of skaters clutch one another as they giggled and wobbled their way around the pond. The crisp scratch and skritch of the blades on ice reminded Tessa of the home-wrecking figure skater her husband ran off with. But sitting here under a snow-speckled velvet sky with Mitch, the thought didn’t rankle as much as it had in the past.
“I caught a lot of pop coming off the pipe,” Mitch finally explained.
She made the time-out sign with her hands. “I don’t know if I can interpret snowboard-ese anymore.”
“I had too much height over one of the banks at a Swiss meet.” He gestured with his hands, using his cocoa for the bank and his free hand for the snowboard. The snowboard hand sailed above the foam cup. “I should have limited my moves to something simple so I could have regained control, but I had been on fire all day.”
Tessa remembered all too well what Mitch was like when he was on fire. On the slopes, it had meant he owned the course.
In her bed, it had meant she’d be smiling for days.
“Let me guess. You used the height to do something outrageous and reckless.”
“I got spinning so fast.” He maneuvered the snowboard hand into a single snowboard finger and demonstrated it twirling around and around in the rising steam from the cup. “Observers say I spun well over a thousand degrees. Guys frequently spin nine hundreds or ten-twenties, but this was beyond that.”
Tessa cringed. How could he be proud of an accident that nearly killed him? “And you lost control?”
He frowned and stared at his pantomimed performance as if he didn’t know where to move the players next. “More like I lost concentration for a fraction of a second. I think I let myself enjoy the moment for an instant, and in that nanosecond, I miscalculated the landing.”
He allowed the finger snowboarder to fall over and careen downward past the cocoa cup to land in a heap on the wooden bench. “I didn’t just hit the pipe and fall, I flew butt over boot heels halfway down the mountain.” He shook his head as his gaze turned from the drama of his fingers and locked on her. “I lost control.”
The regret she discerned in his eyes almost made her want to throw her carefully constructed professional persona to the wind and reach out to him.
But she refused to dare anything more with this man.
She had another dare she planned to honor, and it involved thinking with her head instead of her heart.
“I’m sorry, Mitch.” Too late, she realized her voice conveyed all the emotions she had sought to suppress. The throaty whisper reverberated in the silence like the echo of a far-off church bell.
Embarrassed by her transparent feelings, she stared downward, only to spy his hand laying on the bench beside her thigh. Almost touching.
He yanked it back after a moment and drained his cocoa. “It was a good lesson,” Mitch declared, crinkling the cup and tossing it into a nearby trash can with a hook shot. “I’m more cautious now. I have a business of my own and employees to consider. I can’t afford to be reckless anymore.”
Tessa chose her words with care. “You’ve invested a lot of yourself into Mogul Ryders.” He might be creating some stability with his business. Yet she’d be willing to bet if given a snowboard or skis—or a meaningful relationship, for that matter—he’d be as impulsive as ever.
“It means everything to me, Tessa.” He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, eyeing the action on the ice like a benchwarmer eager to get in the game. “That’s why I’m so glad you’re going to help me get the new product line off the ground. You’ve got the expertise I need.”
“Westwood Marketing has a great team. They’ll make sure your line makes an impressive debut.” She knew her first pang of regret about leaving her firm next week. A part of her would have liked to supervise the implementation of her plans for Mitch’s company.
“Your firm has quite a reputation. But it’s you I trust.” He winked.
A warning buzzer went off in Tessa’s head. She had to make certain he understood that she wouldn’t be part of the package after Friday. “Of course, my contribution is complete once your plan is polished and approved.”
Mitch straightened. The music from inside MacRae’s stopped, and the dinner crowd applauded. “What do you mean?”
Silence surrounded them but for the scrape of blades on the ice and the far-off giggles of the skaters. The falling snow insulated them from the rest of the world.
“I’m leaving my firm. Setting up the marketing plan for Mogul Ryders is my last project.”
Mitch’s jaw flexed in silent testament to his vexation. “Why? They don’t pay you enough? Because I can hire you—”
“No.” She didn’t care to hear how much he needed her brains when he’d never had any need for her heart. “It’s not that. It’s the pace. I don’t want to spend all my free time in airports anymore.”
He clasped her shoulders in his hands. Logically, she knew his skin must be cold from their time outdoors. His touch sent heat waves through her anyhow.
“But this is big, Tessa. This is my whole life.”
He’d said much the same thing to her eight years ago when he asked her to trot the globe with him while he chased his dreams on the pro circuit. She hadn’t been able to make him happy then, either.
“I’m sorry, Mitch. I’ve already given my notice.”
“How much longer will I have you?”
She knew he didn’t mean the question in the provocative way her ears heard it. That didn’t stop the shiver that tripped through her in response.
She took a deep breath and told herself she only had a few days to endure the sensual torment of just being in the same room with him. She could do this.
Braving his gaze, she repeated the motivational mantra she had been using to fulfill Ines’s dare. “I leave in just one week.”
3
MITCH STARED into her green eyes, willing her to change her mind. Yet he could tell by the mutinous thrust of her chin he wouldn’t be any more successful at a Vulcan Mind Meld now than he had been the last time they’d parted.
As he walked her to his truck, however, it occurred to him that he had infinitely more life experience than the last time she’d left him. And he had more than his heart to forfeit this go-round. The job security of everyone in his company rested on whether or not he could get his snowboard line off the ground.
That meant he’d have to commit himself to making Tessa stay. If she was quitting the job because she worked too hard, maybe he could woo her into helping him by showing her a good time. When was the last time Ms. Trench Coat and Heels had some fun?
With only one week to change her mind, Mitch knew he couldn’t afford his slower approach anymore. As of now, he was a man on a mission.
TESSA OPENED a reluctant eye and scanned her hotel suite for the source of the incessant pounding that woke her before her alarm sounded. She abhorred the thought of leaving her nighttime cocoon of flannel sheets and down comforter. She also couldn’t go back to sleep until the knocking ceased.
“Tessa?” Mitch’s gravelly baritone drove through her door. “You awake?”
She groaned a reply, hoping her incoherence would be enough to send him away. She’d have a hard time living up to the dare if she had to confront such a sexy voice first thing in the morning.
“There’s at least a foot of new snow from last night,” he called. “You should see it.”
Like a child rooting for a snow day, Tessa brightened at the weather report. She shimmied partway out of the covers. “Did they clear the pond yet?”
“Nope. It’s pristine. Untouched. You can be the first snow angel out there if you hurry.”
A little tremor of excitement skittered over her, but she couldn’t be sure if it had to do with eagerness to get outside or a desire to see Mitch again. What would it hurt to have a little fun? And they wouldn’t be anywhere near a bed….
She tossed off the remaining blankets and slid to the floor. “Ten minutes, tops. I’ll meet you out front.”
“I think you’ll want to let me in,” Mitch persisted.
“Not a chance. Unless you have coffee?” She dashed around the room, flicking on lights, pressing the button for a gas flame in the fireplace, running a comb through her hair.
“Among other things.”
Curious, she jabbed her toothbrush around her mouth then opened the door a crack. “Like what?”
Mitch thrust forward a room service box with two powdered doughnuts and steaming cups of coffee. “Breakfast.”
She opened the door wider to admit him. She ignored the starchy voice of her conscience that balked at entertaining a client in her hotel room. This was Mitch, after all. It seemed dishonest to pretend they’d never meant anything to each other when they had spent two weeks of their lives practically glued together.
The mental picture accompanying that thought sent a sensual wave of heat through her thighs and belly.
She hoped her cheeks weren’t as flushed as they felt. “Great! I’m starved.”
Wandering inside, he set his offering on a polished pine coffee table.
How could he look so good first thing in the morning? Her gaze drank in his lazy stride, his easy smile. He wore a long wool coat with a red scarf trailing the collar—a far more conservative look than the trademark neon apparel he used to wear in his snow-boarder days. His one concession to his former fashion sense was a tiny troll with neon yellow hair pinned to his lapel.
She looked away when she noticed he was observing her as candidly as she had been regarding him.
He cleared his throat. “You look very nice in red, by the way.”
Had he meant to comment on the blush she felt on her cheeks or the flannel pajamas she’d bought in the gift shop?
“These are the most comfortable clothes I’ve ever worn.” She dropped onto the sofa and pulled a corduroy pillow onto her lap. The tasseled blue bolster seemed a pitifully inadequate barrier between her and walking animal magnetism.
“But they’re not very practical for making snow angels.”
She grabbed a doughnut. “I’ll come up with something suitable. Have a seat.” She motioned toward the wing chair. The one farthest away from her corner of the couch.
He remained standing, one arm behind his back. “Like what? The trench coat?”
Tessa frowned, wondering what he was hiding. “What have you got back there?”
The sound of crinkling paper greeted her ears as he jiggled whatever he concealed. It sounded like a paper bag.
“Something suitable.” He tossed a bag with the pro shop logo on her lap and sat down.
“Mitch, I can’t—”
“It’s nothing.” He took the lid off her coffee and handed her the cup. “The owner always gets the best deals.”
She took a sip of coffee, telling herself she shouldn’t open the bag. But she knew it contained clothes of some sort. She had a damnable weakness for clothes. “I really shouldn’t.”
Mitch bit into his doughnut, sprinkling white powder down his sweater and groaning at the presence of vanilla cream in the center.
“Actually, this is a necessity. If you’re going to familiarize yourself with my product, you’ll need protective gear.” He handed her a pastry. “It would be unprofessional of you not to accept.”
“Unprofessional?”
“Definitely.”
How could she refuse? “You really missed your calling, Mitch. Your selling skills would knock mine off the chart.” Laughing, Tessa set the doughnut aside and tore into the bag. “Snow pants!”
“Ski pants.”
She admired the trim black spandex and thanked God his company made snowboards instead of surfboards. Ski pants would be much kinder to her legs than a French bikini high-rise. “Is there a difference?”
“Aerodynamics. You can pick a jacket to go with them on our way out. I wavered between green or red.”
“Is a jacket considered protective gear also?”
“Absolutely.”
She had to laugh, surprised at their easy rapport in spite of the undeniable chemistry between them. Had he been this considerate when they’d been together eight years ago? Certainly, he’d always been this much fun.
Perhaps this week’s trip would help her remember not to take life so seriously all the time.
Or was that a dangerous line of thought?
She tossed off the pillow shield and stood. She would face Mitch’s charm head-on. “I guess I’d better get dressed if we want to see the snow before the rest of Lake Placid wakes up.”
Mitch frowned, but he rose, too. “I’ve got a lot of things I want to show you today.” He strode toward the door.
A whole day with Mitch. No pillow armor to protect herself from his blatant appeal. No conservative business suit to remind herself to act in a circumspect, professional manner. How would she keep her distance from him if they kept having fun?
She spied the answer stacked on top of her briefcase. “I’ll bring my notes. We’ll get lots of work done.”
He shook his head. “Don’t bother. You’ll never capture the right mood for the marketing pieces if you insist on approaching everything as work. Mogul Ryders is about having fun.”
She nodded, accustomed to listening to her clients’ directives. There was just one problem with this particular command.
She knew from personal experience that having fun with Mitch might be more temptation than her overloaded senses could handle.
MITCH COULDN’T HELP but notice Tessa’s entrance attracted more head turns than a tennis match when she sashayed into the lobby.
Damn, she looked good. How was it she could garner more attention in a ski suit than most women did in a swimsuit?
Or maybe it was more a matter of her neon yellow coat dazzling everyone in a fifty-yard radius.
He eyed her selection, surprised she hadn’t gone for her usual conservative palette. “I take it they were all out of navy blue?”
The sound of her throaty laughter sent a shot of heat through him.
“I had a red one in my hands, but this one just called to me. Loudly.”
“You look great.”
It was a simple enough remark, yet it hung in the air between them, laden with more meaning than he’d meant to give it. Tessa stared at him for a long moment before tucking a blond strand behind her ear.
“Thank you.”
Reminding himself to go slow with her, he sought to break the tension by fingering the tiny pin on his black jacket. “You need a troll to match.”
“I’m going to let that remain your unique fashion statement. This coat was enough of a change for me today.” She grinned, her eyes alight with mischief he hadn’t seen in too many years.
Which might mean Phase One of his Make Tessa Stay plan had been a success thus far.
His rationale had been simple. If Tessa wanted to quit her job because she resented spending her free time in airports, maybe she would accept a position with him if she saw she could have fun while working.
Lucky for him, he had an inside angle on what she liked to do for fun. He’d felt a twinge of guilt this morning when he’d bribed his way into her room with breakfast. But with Mogul Ryders’s future on the line, he couldn’t afford to fight fair.
He needed her by his side.
He wanted her in his bed.
MITCH WAS prepared to push the envelope when they returned to the inn after a day packed with every winter sport imaginable. He hadn’t made concrete headway with her yet, but one potential weapon remained in his persuasive arsenal.
The love seat.
They stamped snow off their boots and hung their jackets on the massive coat rack at the front door.
“You’ll never get me to go down the luge run again,” Tessa announced, padding her way toward his office suite in thermal socks.
They had agreed to wrap up some business before they ended their day. Mitch couldn’t help but hope their meeting yielded more than just a marketing plan.
He led her to a different door than the one she’d been in before—the door that led to their love seat.
He let her enter first.
“Give it up, Tessa. You adored it.” Mitch couldn’t help but admire the sway of her hips as she walked.
The ski pants she’d worn all day accentuated every curvy nuance, taunting him with the memory of the sexy body her staid business suits couldn’t quite hide.
“Sure I did.” She hesitated a moment when she noticed the small couch, but she sank down into the soft green cushions anyway. “That’s why I screamed the entire time, right?”
“That’s how I know you loved it.” He switched on the fireplace in front of them and dropped down on the love seat a few feet away.
Her cheeks flushed before she turned to stare into the blaze. The shrieking she’d done today hadn’t been exactly like the primal cries he remembered from their days spent together between the sheets, but the sound had still fired his blood.
She ignored his remark and seemed to make an effort to keep their conversation on track. “The bobsled was awesome.”
“Best bobsled run I’ve ever been down.” He closed his eyes to savor the memory. Seated behind her on the sled, he’d practically had his legs wrapped around her for an electrifying sixty-three and half seconds.
Now she propped those legs on a leather hassock, and Mitch’s mouth watered.
“Have you ever thought about doing a regional publicity tour to promote your snowboards to the locals?” she asked suddenly, as if the business wheels had started turning in her much-too-busy mind again.
He shifted beside her, partly to get closer to her, partly to ease the arousal that had plagued him ever since they’d sat down. “I’m not thinking about work right now, Tessa.”
In fact, his thoughts had more to do with wrestling those ski pants from her thighs, but he knew he’d be a fool to move too fast. He should be grateful she’d spent all day with him, ostensibly reviewing possible future product lines for Mogul Ryders by trying out every winter sport Lake Placid had to offer.
He wouldn’t push her, damn it.
But maybe he could allow himself one kiss.
He leaned close enough to breathe in the scent that had teased his senses all day. She smelled like exotic flowers. The scent was definitely more neon yellow than navy blue, and it aroused the hell out of him.
He just needed one taste. Just to see if she was as sweet as he remembered.
“There are so many potential customers here.” Her voice faltered as he hovered near. “So many good opportunities.” She yanked a corner of the throw blanket over her lap, as if the frail network of yarn would discourage him.
Fat chance. He could tell by the agitated flick of her tongue over her lips that she wanted the kiss as badly as he did.
He brushed the afghan away, skimming his hand over her thighs. “I’m only interested in following up on one particular opportunity, Tessa.”
Sliding one arm around her waist, he pulled her to him. Her breathing hitched at the contact of his fingers underneath the hem of her sweater. He paused, drinking in the feel of her smooth skin as he splayed his hand over her back.
When her eyes drifted shut, as if she surrendered all control to him, Mitch homed in on her mouth for the kiss he’d dreamed about for eight years.
He groaned at the absolute perfection of her. The lips that were soft as a bubble bath. The scent that drugged him into behaving like a hormone-overloaded teenager. The taste that wavered between earthy-sexy and divinely sweet.
Every drop of blood in his veins surged south. At just one blasted kiss.
What made him think he could ever stop at just a kiss? He left her lips long enough to sample her neck and the hollow valley at her throat. Her fingers bore into his shoulders, and a strangled cry reached his ears.
“Mitch.” She gasped in time with the hungry swipes of his mouth over her neck. “We can’t.”
He could think of about a million reasons they definitely should. The first being her heart hammering against his chest at least as fiercely as his own.
“Why not?”
She inched backward, inserting a sliver of space between them. “Because this will interfere with our work. Besides, we’ve been down this path, and it doesn’t have a happy ending.”
Her words rained ice on his wayward libido. Not nearly enough to freeze it over, but enough to resurrect his ability to reason. He sure as hell couldn’t jeopardize his plan to make her stay because of his hunger for Tessa.
If she left in a huff because he couldn’t keep his hands off her, then his business suffered. More than anything, he needed to please her first.
Himself second.
In that case, he needed to take it slowly…maybe get away from the temptation of the inn and the sensual memories it posed, or he’d be right back to trying to kiss her within twenty-four hours. He wanted her so much he couldn’t see straight.
Then the perfect solution hit.
He slid away from her. “How about that publicity tour?”
She blinked. “What?”
He was gratified to see the pulse still throb in the small valley between her collarbones. It must have been at least a little bit of a struggle for her to pull away, too.
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