Jacob finished stretching and sat for a moment on the grass at the bottom of the enormous hill in the shady northeast corner of the park. The park was on the outskirts of town and not nearly as well tended or attractive as some of the other parks he knew of in the area, but his coach hadn’t picked this park for its scenic appeal. He’d picked it for the killer climb. Jacob’s practiced eye could appreciate the slope before him in all its brutal majesty. A path led through the tall grass and the towering pines, a straight shot up the hill, which blended seamlessly into the higher mountains that loomed above Vail. It was the kind of long, steep hill that joggers walked up, and that casual cyclists gave up on within a few yards. Jacob had ten sprints to go. Then he’d be finished with his last day of hard training.
Liz had been right, of course. For the week leading up to the Classic, he’d be taking it easy. Of course, “easy” was relative. For Jacob, it certainly didn’t mean parking himself with potato chips in front of the television. He’d be riding nearly every day, but for only a few hours. He wouldn’t be driving his body to the limit. Instead, he’d be storing up power, allowing the muscles he’d worked ruthlessly in the past weeks to repair themselves in preparation for the supreme effort he’d be putting forth during the Classic. He loved the hard training, as painful as it could be, but he was looking forward to spending a few days riding at an easy pace through the beautiful Colorado landscape. He wanted to enjoy the solitary hours. He wanted a chance to think. To dream. He was rarely alone these days.
Sorry, Liz, he said to himself, remembering her desire to mountain bike with him. He wouldn’t be taking her up on her offer. He wanted time to himself. He stood, put on his helmet, swung a leg over his bicycle. He took a breath and readied himself to climb the hill at top speed.
• • •
“Hey there,” called Ben. He was walking out of Covered Bridge Coffee in Vail Village. Ariel noted his signature smirk and had to fight to keep from rolling her eyes.
“Hey there,” she called back, tossing her purchases through the window of the rental car. She’d bought snacks to keep her blood sugar up while she tracked down Brian Jenks, as well as a road map of Colorado. So far, she hadn’t been able to find out much about the man who’d brawled so publicly with Jacob Hunter, but she hadn’t done much digging, just asked a few local teens in criterium t-shirts if they’d read about the fight. Blank stares for that effort. Oh well. Random cold questioning wasn’t exactly a topnotch journalistic technique. She figured a trip to the scene of the fight in Minturn would yield some juicy information.
By all accounts, Minturn was a depressed place, a mining town not far from the ritzier Vail. Ariel knew from experience that the friends you leave behind in hometown haunts can resent the hell out of you if you have the guts or the luck to get out. Now that Jacob Hunter was an international star, maybe his presence wasn’t exactly appreciated back in his old stomping grounds. Maybe the working guys in towns like Minturn, Redcliff, and Leadville were itching to teach Jacob a lesson about where he belonged.
But why would a man in Jacob Hunter’s position hang out in a hardscrabble bar so trouble could bite him in the ass? It didn’t make sense. Unless he’d been so hopped up on drugs he’d needed a chance to act out his aggressive energy. Ariel had heard of athletes on steroids doing terrible things — hurting their wives, their children. Performance enhancing drugs were no joke. Maybe Hunter had needed an outlet and Brian Jenks was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe Brian Jenks and Jacob Hunter had a history. If so, Ariel planned on getting the history from Jenks. She had a hunch that Jenks’s version would be more to her readers’ taste. After all, X-Ray was a magazine that prided itself on exposing the corrupt inner workings of corporations, the government, and now, professional sports.
Jacob Hunter was hiding something. She needed to find out the details. ASAP. The sooner she could turn in her article the better. Any contact she had with Jacob Hunter made things too … complicated.
“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” Ben was asking. Ariel frowned. She didn’t feel like wasting time with Ben. She wanted to get to Minturn. She looked at Ben again and hesitated. She could ask him where Jacob was training today and put off going to Minturn until later in the week. But she wasn’t sure if she’d trust Ben to give a straight answer.
No, she decided, better to go to Minturn. She’d try to catch Jacob later, at the hotel. She’d call his room and have him meet her for a cocktail and an interview. After he’d finished with his soigneur and put his clothes back on. Before Ariel could formulate a polite rejection, Ben started waving his free arm over his head.
“Fratello, Henderson,” he shouted, and two muscular young men crossed over to Ben and Ariel’s side of the street. Ariel didn’t need to be told that these guys were cyclists. She was starting to recognize the type.
Muscular. Gorgeous. And with that unmistakably arrogant swagger.
The one Ben called Fratello was dark haired with lively brown eyes. Henderson was blond with California good looks. They high-fived Ben then introduced themselves to Ariel. Steven Fratello. Randall Henderson. Teammates of Jacob Hunter.
“Ariel Hayes,” said Ariel.
“Aren’t you the reporter profiling Jake?” asked Randall.
“How’s that going?” laughed Steven, brown eyes dancing.
Ariel laughed back. “Not well,” she admitted. “He stood me up for our interview.”
“Jake’s a prickly bastard,” said Steven. “I think it’s a little weird for him to be back in Colorado. He’s from here, you know.”
“I know,” said Ariel. “I did do some research on my subject.”
“Sorry,” said Steven. “I forget that anyone in the States knows anything about cycling.”
“In Paris, we’re famous,” said Randall with a cocky smile. “I got finger-cramps from all the autographing.”
“Well, you have a very long name,” said Ariel with a straight face.
Steven shot her an appraising glance. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. Ariel found that she liked him. He definitely had a sense of humor.
“Look,” said Steven. “Jake’s not good with reporters. He’s a private guy. Don’t take it personally.”
“I don’t want to pry into his life,” said Ariel, with a twinge of guilt. “I just want to introduce his fans to the man behind … ”
“The spandex?” broke in Steven, that mischievous twinkle in his eyes disarming Ariel completely.
“Thanks, but I’ve already had the pleasure,” said Ariel and heard Ben snort. From the grins that Steven and Randall exchanged, Ariel was willing to bet they’d heard plenty about her undignified exit from Jacob’s hotel suite.
“Right now, Jake’s killing the hill in Packer Park,” said Steven. “You should check it out. I think you’ll understand more about Jake if you see him ride. Also, he can’t give you too much of a hard time if he’s out of breath.”
Why was Steven being so helpful? Ariel felt a surge of gratitude, followed by another, more pronounced twinge of guilt. If this friendly teammate knew what she was really up to, he wouldn’t be so open.
“Jake’s a great cyclist,” said Steven seriously, looking Ariel straight in the eyes. “It’s exciting to see him ride. Go to the park. Check him out. Good publicity for Jake is good publicity for cycling. He’s the best the sport has to offer. You can quote me on that.”
Ariel saw the unmistakable sincerity in the man’s face.
“I will,” she said. “Thanks.” With this opportunity handed to her, she realized that Minturn could wait.
Glancing at that map as she drove her sporty rental car to the park, she thought about what Steven Fratello had said. He clearly respected Jacob Hunter. He wasn’t just giving her the party line. Did he really think that Jacob was winning his races without drugs? Or were drugs such a ubiquitous part of cycling that he didn’t discount Jacob’s triumphs even though he was using? Ariel had a thing or two to learn about how the tight-knit cycling community operated.
She parked her car and set out to locate the path that Jacob would be riding up and down. When she found it, she began to walk uphill alongside it — and was amazed by its length and the steepness of its slope.
This might be a park, but Jacob is hardly on a picnic, she thought. Even after walking for several minutes at a brisk pace — enjoying the slight increase in her heart rate and the deep breaths of clean mountain air scented with pine needles she had to take to maintain it — Jacob was nowhere in sight.
Then she saw him. And nearly as soon as she saw him, he was alongside her — then past her. He rocketed by like a cannonball, coming downhill faster than she would have thought possible. So fast she felt the wind of his passing. As blazingly quickly as he was going, he looked poised, balanced. In perfect control.
She couldn’t keep herself from imagining those muscular arms around her. What would it feel like to be handled by someone whose body was so exquisitely tuned? Sensitive but powerful.
Right. That’s the story my readers want. Ariel groaned, disgusted with herself, trying to stifle her thoughts. I’ll just write an ode to Jacob Hunter’s overwhelming hotness. She kept walking uphill, knowing he’d be coming past her again eventually. Her thigh muscles started to burn. She was due for some exercise herself.
Within a few minutes — much more quickly than she’d expected — she looked back to see Jacob toiling up the hill. She was amazed by the speed he was able to maintain in spite of the punishing grade. His skintight spandex outlined every curve and plane of his amazing body. His thighs and calves bulged with power as he drove the pedals in their constrained circuit, defying gravity with every stroke. The muscles of his torso showed in clear outline through the fabric of his jersey. His biceps and forearms tensed as he gripped the handlebars, leaning forward and attacking the hill as if he held a grudge against it. He was sweating profusely, his skin shining in the sunlight. He was beautiful. And dangerously strong. His damp hair hung into his eyes, which were singularly focused, intense. Completely unaware of her presence. It was only when he came within a few feet of her that Jacob noticed her standing awestruck by the side of the path. Without slowing, Jacob grunted at her out of the side of his mouth, “Last rep. Meet you at the bottom.” Then he was away, moving steadily up the hillside at a fast clip.
Ariel couldn’t help but stare at him as he rode away from her, appreciating the view from behind as much as the one from the front. His narrow waist and tight backside swayed to the rhythm of his pedal stroke. His back swarmed with muscles, gliding against one another like sinuous snakes. And his legs … Ariel tore her eyes away, aware of a growing heat in her belly and a flush of warmth as blood rose in her face and her nipples tightened.
Journalistic objectivity, she reminded herself sternly, and started down the hill.
• • •
Jacob crested the top of the hill, then turned and shot back down. He sluiced himself with water from his squirt bottle, his jersey unzipped to the waist. He was breathing hard, his legs pulsing with blood, his helmet off and his BMC bicycle laid down on its side. He wasn’t sure how he was going to deal with Ariel in this condition. He always felt great after his workouts, keyed up with endorphins. But the subsequent relaxation and fatigue could put him in a vulnerable state.
As she walked down the hill, Ariel’s hair and body were backlit by the sun. Light shone through the nimbus of her hair and threw her voluptuous curves into silhouette. Jacob had rarely seen a woman with such a perfect body — perfect for his tastes, at least. He tended to associate with female athletes. Some were almost sexless, their bodies honed to the point of total androgyny. Some more casual athletes like Liz, maintained a feminine body type. But Jacob had rarely encountered Ariel’s particular blend of lushness and strength, someone who was as womanly as she was toned. She had the most perfect posture he’d ever seen. She carried herself like a queen. Her motions were incredibly graceful. She had the kind of agility that Jacob knew required massive core strength. Her limbs were long and supple. But her hips, her bottom, round as a peach, her large, high breasts … Words failed.
The models he’d met in the course of his photo shoots, supposedly the most beautiful women in the world, some of whom seemed determined to make him into a bedmate, looked like badly drawn stick figures in comparison.
Jacob tightened his jaw. He couldn’t afford to treat this woman as anything but a threat. Couldn’t afford to respond to her the way his body was already responding …
• • •
As Ariel walked closer, she wondered what she could have done to Jacob to make him glare at her like that. Was he upset that she’d shown up at his training? Or that she’d disrupted his massage the day before? Stifling the stirrings of self-doubt that his forbidding look inspired, she squared her shoulders and planted herself in front of him, trying to ignore her visceral reaction to his presence, the heat he gave off like a furnace, the jersey open over his broad chest and tightly muscled stomach, the smell of his healthy, salty sweat … Unbidden, her eyes fell to his groin and she gasped. The spandex of his shorts hid nothing … nothing.
Jacob Hunter was fantastically well-endowed.
Rendered speechless, Ariel was relieved to see that Jacob looked equally distracted. He was staring intently at … her wrist? Her bracelet?
Her father had given her the gold charm bracelet for her sixteenth birthday, with three charms attached. A tiny book. A ballet shoe. A heart. For balance, he said, and for love. She knew he didn’t mean the kind of balance she practiced at the barre. From then on he’d given her another charm for each passing birthday — five more while he was alive. He’d given her eight charms in all, and she’d bought a few more for herself, as a way of remembering him. She played with the bracelet when she was thinking, rubbing the charms between the thumb and middle finger of her opposite hand. The older charms had been smoothed by her touch over the years until their contours faded, the embossed details becoming less distinct, the metal more burnished, mellowed.
Ariel and Jacob’s eyes met. To Ariel’s surprise, they both flushed.
• • •
It was her. Jacob felt a wordless confusion. Ariel Hayes. The woman who’d been haunting him. The woman with whom he’d shared those moments of raw, naked honesty on the hotel rooftop. She’d felt his body’s hunger, his need for connection, for intimacy. And he’d felt hers. The blood rushed to his groin as he remembered the feel of her slippery, silky skin, the way her curvaceous body had melted against him, the luscious wetness he’d felt when he slipped his fingers into her lace panties and touched the petal-soft folds of her sex. Holding her eyes — knowing his cycling shorts did nothing to hide his sudden arousal — he smiled in spite of himself.
• • •
Ariel was surprised by the sudden sweetness of that smile. And she had no idea what had caused it. To call this man “mercurial” would be an understatement. She could only hope that his good mood lasted for the time it would take her to establish a rapport — or at least to ask him a few key questions.
“Jacob,” she said, and was surprised to hear the caressing tone in her own voice. She’d always made it a point of honor not to use the kind of feminine wiles that some female journalists deployed in their pursuit of a story. But, truth be told, she’d never felt this way about a subject. The hint of seduction in her voice and in her body language didn’t feel like a strategy, wasn’t something she’d planned. It came all too naturally.
“You know I’d like to interview you,” she continued, “but the fact is, readers want to see you as a complete individual, not just a racer. I loved watching you train just now. But I need to see you off the bike, as well. So I can give your public a sense of the man behind the sport. They already know Jacob Hunter, the athlete. They’re hungry for more.”
Jacob’s eyes flashed challengingly. “The real Jacob Hunter, huh?” He smiled. “Are you sure they can handle it?”
“I guess we’ll find out.” Ariel smiled back, unable to resist his playful good humor.
Jacob reached out and clasped Ariel’s wrist with his calloused hand. Ariel gasped. The contact — skin to skin — was like an electric shock. He pulled her gently toward him. “Come with me,” he said softly.
Ariel wondered what she’d gotten herself into. And she wondered if she cared. “My rental car’s in the parking lot,” she said, trying not to let him see how his casual touch had startled her. “Where do you want to go? I can follow you.”
“Leave the car. We’ll throw my bike in the back and pick it up later. Ride with me on the motorcycle. We’ll go change at the hotel.” His gaze raked her up and down; Ariel suddenly felt naked, exposed.
“I need to shower. You need to look less citified. I’m going to take you out and show you the local color. You need to put on something … more casual.” He smiled. Ariel glanced down at her sleeveless white silk blouse, her narrow black pants, her Prada flats, bought on clearance. In New York, and most other cities on the Eastern seaboard, you had to look serious to be taken seriously. Serious meant designer. Ariel had combed the sale racks and the consignment stores to build her professional wardrobe on a shoestring. But apparently things worked differently in the West.
Jacob dropped her wrist to shoulder his bike. Ariel missed the tingling sensation he’d transmitted to her through her fingers. She followed him obediently to the parking lot, where he removed the front wheel of his bike and laid the frame across her back seat. She wondered if he worried that it would be stolen. She was sure it was fantastically expensive.
Apparently not. He walked away from it without a backward glance, leaving Ariel to lock the car.
“Um, Jacob,” she asked, “how did you get both the bicycle and the motorcycle here at the same time?”
Jacob smiled. “I drove the motorcycle. Ben met me with the bike. It gets worked over most nights. We can get him to pick it up later, too. Leave your car keys at the front desk for him.”
Ariel smiled a lopsided grin, one that felt more genuine than any of the other smiles she’d produced during the course of this assignment. The others had all been designed to produce a response. “So he’s good for something, after all?” she asked archly.
Jacob glanced back, surprised by her obvious sarcasm, then barked a laugh when he saw the expression on her face. “Actually,” he said, “he’s basically worthless. An errand boy who likes to think of himself as a mover and shaker. Since no one on the up-and-up takes him seriously, he’s drawn to the dark side. If you need something sketchy, underhanded, or illegal, he’s your man. Assuming he doesn’t mess it up.”
Ariel’s smile dropped as suddenly as it had come. Was there a significance to Jacob’s words he hadn’t intended? Could Ben be responsible for supplying Jacob with drugs? She remembered the package he’d carried to Jacob’s suite the day before. Mail? Or contraband pharmaceuticals?
She tried to pull herself together and marshal the whirl of thoughts and questions in her mind into something like a plan. Then she stopped short. There was another factor here she hadn’t considered.
Ariel had never ridden a motorcycle before.
“Don’t I need a helmet?” she asked nervously.
“You can wear mine. I’ll wear this one.” Strapping his bike helmet under his chin, he climbed on the motorcycle and grinned at her, posing.
Ariel burst out laughing. He looked ridiculous in his cycling kit and bike helmet, straddling the big motorcycle and smiling up at her roguishly. Maybe Jacob Hunter didn’t take himself so seriously after all.
“Come on,” he said, his voice suddenly husky, and he caught her wrist again and pulled her body against him. Ariel had no choice but to swing her leg over the bike and settle herself tightly against Jacob’s warm, hard back.
Electric. She caught her breath. The feeling was electric.
Her breasts were crushed against him. She wrapped her arms around his waist. He felt like he was made of something more than flesh — like smooth wood, or polished metal. He started the motorcycle and the vibration traveled through her, humming between their bodies. She sighed involuntarily.
“Ready?” Jacob asked. She realized her fingers were kneading his jersey anxiously.
“Ready,” she said. They pulled out. Ariel half-expected some daredevil burst of speed. Instead, Jacob drove slowly. Cautiously. Mindful of her nervousness.
“Too fast?” Jacob turned his face to shout above the engine. Ariel gripped him even tighter. The unexpected consideration caused her heart to flutter. Suddenly, she felt invulnerable. She looked down at the pavement moving beneath them. She thought she felt a hint of what Jacob must feel cycling, pushing himself harder and harder against the wind. Or what she’d felt, dancing.
Like dreams she had as a little girl. Dreams of flying. She almost cried out at the sheer joy of it.
“Faster!” she cried and leaned with him effortlessly as they roared around the last curve of the park road. Together they sped through the streets of Vail.
Back at the hotel, Ariel still felt like she was in a dream. She changed into jeans and a green t-shirt. She glanced at herself critically in the mirror. “How’s this for casual?” she said to herself. She pulled her unruly hair into a loose ponytail and went to meet Jacob in the lobby. When she saw him waiting for her in cowboy boots, worn out jeans, and a thin, soft-looking t-shirt, she stopped in her tracks. His hair was still wet from the shower and a slow smile spread across his face as she came toward him.
• • •
“You dress down nice,” he said. It was true. In faded jeans and a simple tee, Ariel had a natural glow. She looked less prissy, less like an uptight New York reporter with a Blackberry addiction. She looked ready for a casual conversation over a cold beer. Which, frankly, he preferred to an inquest in a brightly lit hotel restaurant.
Yes, this would be better. The two of them, relaxed, hanging out in a laid back environment. He could tell her just enough to keep her satisfied, without betraying anything important. Casual conversation. That was the key. Except for one problem. He hated to admit it, but he already wanted more than casual conversation. He wanted her in his bed. He wanted to talk to her seriously without worrying about what she’d write down. He wanted to lie with her under the stars and feel, again, that moment of connection. A sexual excitement linked to something deeper.
He hadn’t felt this way for a very, very long time. Maybe never.
But Ariel Hayes wasn’t a mystery woman — a rooftop mermaid — appearing out of nowhere and vanishing just as quickly. She was a reporter. He had to remember that. Anything he said to her would be fair game. He had to be on guard. He had to remember not to say anything about what was really on his mind.
Damn, she was beautiful.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said gruffly. He wished he could forget about Jacob the cyclist and Ariel the reporter. He wanted to relate to her man to woman.
Well, at least he could pretend for a little while. Just for tonight. Luckily, he knew the right place.
• • •
After a thrilling ride outside the limits of Vail Village, Jacob turned into a large parking lot filled with pickup trucks and motorcycles. Ariel hopped off the bike.
“Sweet Rose-Marie,” said Jacob and whistled. Ariel looked around. The blond from the other day? Was she Rose-Marie? But then she took in the low, sprawling building with a huge buzzing sign: a grizzly bear lit-up in neon and “Rose-Marie’s” spelled out in blinking red letters. Jacob dealt Ariel another heart-stopping grin.
“She taught me to two-step,” he explained.
“You two-step?”
Jacob pulled her to him and whirled her around in the parking lot. Ariel saw the lights spin overhead.
“That’s not the two-step!” she protested breathlessly.
“So I don’t two-step,” admitted Jacob. “I square-danced though. In gym class. Third grade. Tabor Elementary.”
“I’ll be sure to mention your square-dancing days in my article,” Ariel said.
“Square-dancing always made me dizzy.” Jacob laughed, releasing her. “It wasn’t really my thing.”
“Dizzy, huh?” It was hard to imagine Jacob off-balance.
“How about you?” he asked, lifting her hand above her head and twirling her around. Ariel completed the turn, then stepped away from him and shrugged.
“I don’t get dizzy,” she said. She brushed a stray strand of hair from her face and felt the heat of his gaze as his eyes followed the curve of her arm back to where her soft green t-shirt clung to her full breasts.
She stepped forward into fourth position, then whipped her body around in a double pirouette.
“See?” she said, relishing the astonished look on his face.
“Walk a straight line after that,” Jacob dared her, and Ariel began walking smartly to the bar’s entrance.
Oh God, he’s looking at my ass, she thought.
As they walked into Rose-Marie’s he put his arm around her shoulder.
“Did you do ballet?” he asked.
“Only in gym class,” she replied.
“Ha,” he said. They sat at a booth. Couples two-stepped in an open space by the bar. Over in the back, past the pool tables, a crowd surrounded a mechanical bull, now in the process of tossing a heavy-set young man into the air. Ariel winced as he hit the ground.
“You’re not much for straight answers, are you?” observed Jacob. Ariel stared at him across the table.
“I’m a reporter,” she said. “I prefer to ask the questions.”
“That’s one thing we have in common, then,” said Jacob, leaning forward. He brushed his fingers across her wrist. He lightly touched one of the charms on her bracelet. “This is beautiful,” he said seriously. “I’d ask who gave it to you, but … ”
“But I’m the one who’s interviewing you,” Ariel finished. Her pulse was leaping. His fingers still rested lightly on her wrist.
“We have more in common than you think,” she said suddenly. She didn’t know she was going to say the words until she heard them coming out her mouth.
“Oh yeah?” Jacob was looking at her even more intently. His brown eyes bored into hers. If he weren’t so distractingly good looking she’d be able to think before she spoke. At least she wasn’t stuttering.
“I starting studying ballet when I was three years old,” Ariel said. “I went to New York City to dance at Julliard. The plan was to join a company. Travel the world.”
“What happened?” asked Jacob. Ariel closed her eyes briefly. The memory still caused her pain.
“I broke a bone in my foot,” she said. “I couldn’t dance for months. When you’re at the top of your field, working your body as hard as you can, a few months … ”
“Can mean everything,” said Jacob, with a strange light in his eyes.
“It’s amazing how long it takes to get to where you want to be. How long it takes to make your body work the way you want it to work … and then how quickly it can all go away.”
“It doesn’t look like you’ve let your body go,” Jacob said appreciatively and she flushed.
“I’ll never dance professionally,” she said. “I had to give up that dream. But it’s impossible to go from working out forty hours a week to regular school and a desk job without including a good gym routine. I couldn’t let myself lose all that strength and endurance. I was too good.”
“So you’re in great shape?” he teased. “In addition to being super modest?”
“I was a ballet dancer my whole life,” she snapped, and he grinned at her fiery tone. “You can’t imagine how grueling ballet really is. The ballerinas look airy and beautiful but it’s all sweat and bloodied toes behind stage.”
“Pretty tough,” he said and she detected a note of condescension.
“Ballet dancers are the toughest athletes on earth,” she fired at him.
Jacob threw up his hands. “When Baryshnikov wins the Tour de France, then you can talk to me about it,” he said.
“That’s ridiculous,” Ariel sputtered, heat blooming on her cheeks, until she saw, once again, the twinkle in Jacob’s eyes. When would she learn that his arrogance was mostly a show? Was part of his reputation for cockiness due to people being too intimidated, too unperceptive, to see that he was kidding around?
“I think we need some beers to settle this debate,” said Jacob, sliding out of his seat. “I’ll be right back.”
Ariel watched him move over to the bar. So far all she’d done was talk about herself! He was too skilled at deflecting conversation away from anything revealing about his own life. He was still an enigma.
“Hi Red,” came a deep voice. A man stood at her table, leering down at her. “Mind if I join you?” Ariel smiled briefly.
“No thanks,” she said. “My friend will be right back.”
“Your friend?” the man asked. He was none too steady on his feet. Ariel pointed at Jacob, who was striding toward them with two bottles of beer.
“Evening,” said Jacob with a curt nod at the man. He slid a bottle across the table to Ariel.
“You wouldn’t mind if I took this lovely lady for a spin on the dance floor, would you?” the man asked Jacob. “I mean, seeing as how you’re just friends?”
Jacob sat down next to Ariel and threw an arm around her shoulder. He held the man’s eye for a long moment. The tension between them crackled.
“As a matter of fact, I would mind,” said Jacob slowly. “My friend and I have just decided to take our relationship to the next phase. So if you’ll excuse us … ” And with that, Jacob pulled Ariel against him. And he kissed her.
His lips were warm. Demanding. His tongue parted her lips and Ariel felt flames lick up her spine. Her surprised resistance melted in an instant and she responded to his kiss. She forgot about everything around her. With her eyes closed and Jacob’s mouth claiming hers, she almost thought she was on the rooftop again, the stars close above her, a stranger’s strong body cradling her, holding her close. She forgot it was Jacob she was kissing. Forgot everything but the feeling. The desire. From a great distance, it seemed, she heard the man mutter, “I get the point.”
She broke away from Jacob and saw the man pushing his way toward the pool tables. She looked at Jacob. He’d leaned back against the booth. He was watching her closely. Waiting for her reaction. She flushed.
“What was that about?” she asked unsteadily.
“I could have told him to take the next dance,” said Jacob. His voice was frankly unapologetic. “I could have said we weren’t even friends. That you were a reporter and you’d be free as soon as we finished our business.”
“Or you could have let me handle it myself,” said Ariel. “Instead of acting out your machismo.”
“Machismo?” Jacob repeated. “Hmmmm … ” He folded his muscular arms across his chest. It looked like he was trying to fight back a smile. “Are you going to press with that?” he asked. “It’s not the most original line … ”
“What you just did was completely inappropriate,” she said in a prim tone. She tried to scoot away from him but he closed the distance between them. There was no more room between her and the wall. His stared at her, eyes lingering on her lips. She couldn’t fight the magnetic force that drew them together. But she tried.
“It was completely unprofessional,” she continued. He dropped his head so that his lips were beside her ear.
“You didn’t mind the other night,” he whispered. Ariel’s world spun. The whisper tickled her ear. Raised goose-bumps along her arms. “When I held you in my arms … in the light of the Milky Way … ”
Ariel drew a shuddering breath. Jacob took her hand and gently pressed something into her palm. She looked down. A golden charm.
“You lost this,” said Jacob gently. “It seems like it may be important to you.”
“It is,” Ariel whispered. “It’s very important to me.” She slipped the charm into her pocket. She hadn’t even noticed it was gone. The thought of losing it made her breath catch in her throat. How could she reconcile this moody man, the subject of her investigation, with the man on the rooftop who took her breath away? Who flooded her with passion? She’d almost had sex with him even though she’d only met him moments before. Even though she hadn’t known his name. But if she admitted to herself, she must have realized it was him.
Jacob Hunter.
She wanted to kill him. She wanted to kiss him. She let him to lead her back to the parking lot. She slid behind him onto the motorcycle in silence.
The wind felt cool and soothing, but it wasn’t enough. Her body was on fire everywhere it came into contact with Jacob’s. She was aching, burning with desire for him. When he pulled up outside the hotel, she jumped off the bike, breaking the physical contact between them as quickly as she could.
She had never felt so confused in her life. How could she reconcile her feelings for this man with the demands of her assignment? And if she couldn’t handle this assignment professionally, objectively, and ethically — meaning not sleeping with her subject — what did it say about her as a journalist? She’d already lost one career to a weakness of the body. She wasn’t losing a second.
She followed Jacob to the elevators without speaking, her thoughts in a whirl. They entered the same elevator and Jacob pushed the button for his floor.
“Ariel … ” began Jacob as the door slid closed. He pulled her against him for a deep kiss. A kiss that turned her legs to jelly. She felt his hands move down her back, cup her bottom. He held her tightly so that her belly nestled against his rock-hard thighs.
She took a deep breath. Stepped back from him. She pushed the button for her own floor, below Jacob’s.
“Jacob,” she said in a tight, high voice, “why don’t you tell me about the bar fight you had in Minturn last week?”
Jacob stared at her, emotions playing across his face. Surprise. Anger. Even — hurt? Ariel was suddenly overcome with despair.
“Why are you asking me that?” he said softly.
“Because I’m here to write a story about you,” said Ariel, miserably. “Remember? I’m not here for … this.”
Jacob’s handsome face grew hard. “There is no this,” he said. They stared at each other for a long moment in silence.
The door opened at Ariel’s floor. She bolted from the elevator, hot tears spilling onto her cheeks. The sound of Jacob’s voice followed her down the hall.
“If you have trouble sleeping, try to stay out of the pool. That’s where the sharks hang out.”
Ariel flung herself on her bed. She’d have no problem staying away from the pool tonight. No problem at all.