French Roast Page 6

  Brian cast her a glance. “Remember how we used to come up here and drink in high school?”

  A roll of her eyes. “I seem to remember a few falls on the way back.”

  “Good times. Everybody was so happy back then. So alive.”

  When she looked away, he caught the tear running down her face. “You missing Jemma?” he asked softly.

  Her sniff was audible. “Yeah.”

  He could see her now in his mind’s eye—that emerald green snowsuit she’d always worn and her crazy, hand-knitted purple hat, complete with ear flaps. “Me too,” he said, “come here.”

  Leaning over awkwardly, he pulled Jill into a hug. The sparkling snow, the sunshine, and the punch of the evergreen trees had his heart expanding. An eagle flew overhead, casting a majestic shadow.

  “That gives me goosebumps,” she whispered.

  His arms squeezed her tightly as they watched the eagle.

  She skied alongside him for a few miles on the flat stretch, a comfortable silence descending between them. The scissor movement only accentuated her legs’ graceful length. She might have felt awkward about her height growing up, but he thought she was perfect. He couldn’t wait to have those long legs wrapped around him.

  Okay, McConnell. No need to get heated this early.

  Their destination loomed ahead. The large boulder sported one of the best vistas in the canyon and was as high as they could ski cross-country. Plus, they could sit on the rock and not freeze their asses off. The stone wouldn’t be much warmer than the white stuff, but it absorbed the sun’s rays.

  Her pace increased. “Up for a little race, McConnell?”

  The grin just about split his chapped lips. “You got it, Red.”

  Firming her shoulders, Jill shot forward. He planted his poles deeper and used his strength to add length to his stride. But then she crossed into his path.

  “Hey!” He veered to the right.

  Her laughter echoed loud and clear across the valley. “You must be out of practice if that throws your panties in a twist.”

  The crazy woman continued to zigzag in front of him, making it impossible to pass her without causing a collision. “You always did play dirty.”

  “Please. It’s like NASCAR. Once you take the lead, you keep the other guy behind you.”

  “Like you’ve ever watched NASCAR.”

  Her legs slid across the snow smoothly. He skied through her tracks and looked for an opening. Brian’s heart was pumping like crazy, while she didn’t even seem to be breathing hard. God, was she in better shape than him?

  “Jemma and I used to watch it together. The men are so hot—especially in those tight suits. Kinda like you look now.”

  “Okay, that’s it.” He dug his poles in even deeper and shot forward. She smiled when she saw him coming and stuck out her tongue. He headed right at her. Why wasn’t she veering?

  “Dammit, Jill!” He had two more yards, and he’d be on her.

  Her laugh trilled out again. She angled sharply toward him. His right pole stuck in ice-crusted snow, and he lost his balance, toppling like a bowling pin. His skis came off as he somersaulted—his pack digging into his back. He spit out snow, sat up, and wiped his face off.

  Her shoulders shook. “You really are out of practice.”

  “And you hate to lose. You crushed our picnic.”

  Her ski pole waved like Gene Kelly doing a dance. “At least you didn’t blame me winning on carrying that heavy ol’ backpack.”

  His snort carried across the distance. “As if. I also won’t say you weigh less and move like a gazelle.”

  Her hand reached for his. “A gazelle? Really? That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  He tugged her forward.

  “Hey!” Her long frame fell in an inelegant heap next to him.

  “If you think that’s the nicest thing I’ve ever said, I clearly need to work harder.” He flipped her, looming over.

  Her mouth opened in surprise as he kissed her. Long and deep and hot, his heart racing from their contest and from how much he wanted her. Her gloved hands clenched him. With their snow suits on, he couldn’t touch the curves he dreamed about, so he concentrated on kissing her senseless. His body nestled between the V of her legs, his hips moving against hers, their suits scraping. He sucked her tongue into his mouth and heard her groan.

  The angle of her jaw called to him when she turned her face. Pressing a kiss there, he went lower, running his tongue above the bare skin over her yellow scarf. Her mouth glistened in the sunlight, so he sucked on her lower lip. Elegant fingers played at the back of his neck, while her tongue danced against his. Her hand moved down his back and fell away. Then it slid back up, igniting a string of fire until he felt snow slide down his neck. He darted back.

  “Shit, that’s cold.”

  Her laughter gusted out as he tugged his glove off and dug out the snowball. When he turned back, his breath caught. She looked like a winter goddess lying there in the snow—her long, lithe frame, the red hair trailing out of her yellow hat, her lips swollen from their kisses.

  “You’re so beautiful.”

  The smile he loved seeing faded. “You’ve never said that.”

  Yeah, because growing up, he hadn’t wanted to lose her. She’d been an anchor in his life. And he’d seen from his parents’ ugly divorce how horribly wrong romantic relationships could go.

  Razor-sharp guilt rose. He tugged his glove on and then hunched over her, pushing his sunglasses up. It was important for her to see his eyes. “I may not have said it, but I always thought it.”

  “I’m glad,” she said in a small voice, which told him she didn’t believe him, not really. “So, have we a squashed picnic?”

  “I only made macaroni and cheese.” He pushed off the snow so he could stand and help her up. “Let’s eat.”

  They brushed snow off each other and skied to the spot he’d picked out for them. She unclipped her skis and planted her poles. He followed suit and trudged through the white, shrugging off the pack, trying to cool down.

  While Jill took care of business behind a tree, he spread a white cloth on the boulder. They couldn’t have candles and flowers, but he could still plate her food. He popped the champagne, poured, and buried the bottle in the snow. Ice crunched, signaling her return.

  “You totally lied! Macaroni and cheese, my ass. Is that champagne?” She trudged through the snow and sank down beside him.

  “Like I’d make you mac and cheese. Jesus, Jill, what do you take me for?”

  She kissed him. “A genius. Oh, I adore tapas! Let’s see. Marinated mushrooms, chorizo, and olives. Oh my God, is that ceviche?”

  “It loves to be cold.”

  “Tell me that’s Man-chengo,” she said, popping a wedge in her mouth. “Yep.”

  “If you’re referring to the cheese, it’s Manchego.”

  “Not like Jemma and I…used to call it. We dubbed it the Man-chengo.”

  Ah, that wicked sense of humor. Hadn’t he always loved it? “Why?”

  “Because it’s a funnier name—and really nutty.” She kissed him again, deeper this time. “You did all this for me?”

  “Sure.”

  She tore her sunglasses off. Her green eyes outdid the lush pines snaking up the mountain. His heart shifted, and it felt like it was falling clear out of his body. He didn’t want to tear his eyes away from her. Realized he could gaze at her forever.

  His insides shook. God, he so didn’t want to screw things up between them. And after his parents, he wasn’t sure he could ever have a forever with anyone. Even her. Time for a toast, he decided, grabbing a glass, cursing himself for thinking about his parents at a time like this.

  “To us,” he said because any romantic words had evaporated from his mind.

  Their glasses clinked. “To us.” She took a sip. “Yum. Thanks, Bri.”

  He popped an olive in his mouth, off balance. Their relationship made him feel a whole hell o
f a lot more than he was ready to feel. Hadn’t he just gotten out of an insane relationship not too long ago? One that had consumed him, annihilated him. He loved being with Jill, but when she looked at him like that…She had always looked at him like that. Like he was everything, could do anything.

  He couldn’t be her hero.

  He wasn’t a hero.

  Hadn’t he proved that in New York?

  She dug into the food, talking with her hands. Everything she said came from her whole heart. God, he didn’t want to hurt her by not being able to give her everything she wanted.

  A blue jay cackled from the nearby tree, and squirrels chased each other, jumping from branch to branch. Occasional moans danced across her lips as she ate and drank her champagne. He ate in silence. He’d gotten carried away. It was Valentine’s Day for Christ’s sake. He’d feel normal tomorrow.

  He fed her more tapas. They ate. Sipped more champagne. Took a few pictures of each other and then one of them together. Then he put the picnic away. She seemed to naturally end up with her head leaning against his chest as they both looked out over the valley.

  The quiet unnerved him. Being with Jill and not needing to talk was new. Part of him wanted to talk about anything and everything to take away the intensity.

  When she turned her head and met his gaze, his breath caught. He could drown in those luminous green eyes. His hand cupped her cheek. Drown was too scary. He could wade in them.

  The tightness in his chest didn’t ease, but he fit his mouth to hers like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  ***

  Jill kept her eyes open as he kissed her, tracing his dark brows, the slash of his high cheekbones. Was there anything more dear to her? Hadn’t she missed this face?

  He sipped at her lips and stroked her tongue in long sweeps, making her heart sing. Her blood boiled. She tugged on his lower lip as he turned her onto her back.

  “Do you have any idea how much I want to kiss your breasts right now?”

  She inhaled sharply. Everything inside tightened. “Well, it is pretty warm in the sun. So long as you cover me up from the rays, I can give you a little skin.”

  He tugged on her zipper. “Afraid of a sunburn?”

  She helped him lift her shirt. “Jemma and I tried sunbathing topless once when we were teenagers. You have no idea how much that hurt.”

  Her nipple tightened. “You mean here?”

  “Yes, there.”

  He met her gaze dead on. “What do you want? Tell me.”

  Voicing her desires was new and awkward and…kinda hot. “I want you…to kiss my breasts.”

  His mouth tipped up. “So do I,” he murmured as he lowered his head and took her nipple between his beautiful lips.

  Her back arched. The sun warmed her face, while his mouth incited a different kind of heat. He kissed his way across her chest until her nipples were wet and hard and aching. A cold breeze blew, making them tighten even more.

  Her soft moans couldn’t be contained. Cold then hot, hot then cold. She was being exposed to more than just the elements.

  Her body strained under him. When he slid his hands down her sides and into her snow pants, she stilled. Waited for the touch she sensed was coming. His mouth gentled on her breast and his hand slowed, as if he were seeking a sign. She wrapped her arms around his neck and urged him on. His fingers parted her folds and traced the V of her thighs to her core, his touch delicate, a mere brush. When her hips jerked, he deepened the caress, slipping one finger inside.

  She moaned at the sensation paired with the raw tug of his mouth on her breast. The bold touch of his hand. Her body struggled against him, wanting more, wanting to give him more.

  He eased back from her breast. “Shh…it’s okay. Let me show you.” He leaned up and took her mouth in a long, hot kiss.

  She dug her boots into the snow as his palm continued to press against her center. Another finger joined the first. They caressed, rotated, and swirled until she was throbbing with desire. Her pulse beat wildly, erratically. Her body broke out in pure heat. Their tongues danced. He sucked on her neck, her earlobe, her lower lip. Her hands reached for him.

  “No.” He pressed them over her head. Opened her legs wider. Stared at her with those Bengal-tiger blue eyes. “I want you to feel this, all of it.”

  She closed her eyes as his fingers picked up the pace, stroking and stroking until lightning bursts raced up from her toes. Still his mouth tugged on her breast as his fingers swept deep and hard into her, his palm pressed against her. She convulsed with a loud moan, coming apart, anchored by him. Then sensations drummed all over her body until she relaxed against him in one long liquid line. He kissed her lightly and released the pressure between her legs. Rearranged her clothing. Pulled her head onto his chest.

  Wow, was all she could think. Simply wow. It didn’t equal anything she’d experienced on her own, and wouldn’t it be even better when they had sex?

  Her cap must have come loose because his fingers threaded through her hair. Even her scalp sizzled. She inhaled long and deep and turned in his arms. His mouth looked pinched, but he tried to smile.

  “What about you?” she asked in a voice she didn’t recognize.

  He pushed a curl behind her ear. “This was for you. I want you to know how it’s going to be between us.”

  Her mouth turned dry. In that moment, she made the decision. Soon, very soon, she would make love with him. There was nothing she wanted more. Hadn’t he shown how much he cared by giving pleasure to her so unselfishly?

  “I’m sorry about the other night. I wasn’t ready. I—”

  “It’s okay. I won’t rush you.”

  She thought about mentioning this was her first orgasm with a guy, but she didn’t want him to think she’d been waiting for him, even if it was partially true. She hugged him tight.

  “Did you bring me out here because you knew it couldn’t go too far?”

  He squeezed her and then moved away, sitting in the snow. She had a moment of guilt as she realized he was trying to cool off.

  “Partly. Rolling around like two sunburned jackasses wasn’t my idea of our first time together.”

  “Then there are the satellites,” she added, making him laugh.

  “I brought you up here because we always came here when we needed to get away from school or our parents.”

  She tugged her cap on. “This was our wishing spot.”

  “Our wishing spot?”

  The sky seemed endless when she raised her hands to it. “We always talked about what we’d be when we grew up, remember? You talked about becoming a famous chef.”

  “I did, didn’t I?”

  “Yep, and you made it.” She sang a few bars of New York, New York by Frank Sinatra.

  He turned away quickly. Something about the new lines around his mouth made her cut off the song early. What had happened in New York? After what he’d done for her, she didn’t want to ruin their mood by asking again, even though she knew he hadn’t shared the full story. Patience wasn’t her virtue, but she’d try with him.

  She rose, her legs still unsteady. “So, I’ve been thinking about our place. Mortimer Wilson is going to be putting his property on Main Street up for sale in a few weeks. I went by his furniture shop. Took some rough measurements.”

  “You did all that while I was MIA?” he quipped, throwing the pack on his back.

  “I told you I had some new ideas to discuss, but you wouldn’t meet with me. I thought you were backing out after what happened last week.”

  “Sorry. I was trying to build the surprise.”

  “Well, you did.” She grabbed a ski pole. “I’ve done some sketches. Thought about the layout.” She drew the general space in the snow and then segmented it with lines for walls. “I thought we’d put the kitchen here. Office across the hallway by the walk-in cooler. We can split the front section into two. An informal one to cater to families—something funky, maybe with an Impressionistic feel. Monet b
lue on the wall with clouds and bright yellow flowers in chunky Provencal vases.”

  She sketched the second section more slowly when he rubbed his hand against his temple, the lines around his mouth as pinched as her Aunt Gladys before her morning prunes.

  “Ah, it’s just a brainstorm.”

  No smile.

  “The second section would be more elegant, with a real French café feel. Dark wood tables with feminine-shaped chairs. Butter-yellow walls. Maybe a mural of somewhere in France.”

  “Like the Eiffel Tower?” His voice might be silky soft, but she heard the edge. And she had no idea what had put it there.

  “God, no! Umm…A field of wildflowers. Wait. They have sunflowers, right? Like Van Gogh.”

  His silence was as vast as the valley.

  “Or we could do something else.”

  He looked up. Gave her a fake smile. Touched his wrist in the telltale gesture of time ticking away. “We need to get going if I’m going to make it to work.”

  She grabbed her other pole and snapped into her skis. “They were just ideas, Brian. Why don’t you tell me what you have in mind? This is never going to work if you’re not honest with me.”

  “Let’s talk about it another time.”

  He took off. She had to dig her poles in deeper to keep up with him. “Was there anything you liked about what I said?”

  “Jill…”

  “You don’t need to spare my feelings. If we’re going to be partners, you need to tell me what you think.”

  “Fine.” Snow flew as he swished to a stop. “It’s not in line with what I’ve been thinking. I don’t like theme restaurants.”

  “But you like French food. Plus, the locals love pretending to leave town. It’s the best of both worlds.” Her heart pounded hard under her suit, drumming up a dangerous tune about their potential partnership.

  He cleared his throat. “And the whole thing about two sections. I didn’t imagine this as a place for families.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “But Bri, that’s the fastest growing market in Dare. So many people are sticking around after college and starting families, not to mention the young professionals from California who are moving here to raise their kids in a small town. These people have good taste and the money to spend. Plus, they like introducing their kids to new things.” Her throat tightened. Jill blinked back the tide of welling tears. So she’d lied about being impervious to his opinion. “Did you like anything?”