MARC BLINKED, surprise registering in his gaze at Brooke’s ardent demand. “Excuse me?”
Brooke dampened her bottom lip with her tongue. Her heart pounded frantically in her chest, and her entire body was charged with a nervousness she couldn’t deny. “Just do it!” Before I change my mind, she thought desperately.
He tilted his head, a curious smile canting the corner of that sensual mouth she knew was capable of giving her great pleasure. “Demanding thing, aren’t you?” he murmured.
He had no idea. Right now, she didn’t want to think about what she was about to do, or her reckless, irresponsible behavior, or the excitement spiraling low in her belly. She had a point to demonstrate, to him and herself…that she could just do it.
Forcing herself to be the aggressor, she released her grip on his flannel shirt and slid her palm around to the nape of his neck. Her fingers glided through the silky length of his black-as-midnight hair. The strands were cool, contrasting with the fevered heat radiating from his body and the smoldering intensity darkening his eyes.
She shivered, and before she came to her senses, she pulled his mouth toward hers. His head dipped willingly, without hesitation, and his soft, warm lips settled over hers with a gentleness that threw her plan for a mindless seduction off-kilter. She’d wanted, expected, fast, wild and unemotional. He gave her slow, lazy and tantalizing, catering to her doubts and uncertainties…and the tension thrumming through her.
His large hands stroked down her back, encouraging her closer, making her spine arch until her breasts brushed his wide, hard chest. The delicious friction caused her nipples to tighten and ache. He gripped her hips and slowly pulled her bottom to the very edge of the table, spreading her legs wider and pressing against her until the only thing separating them was heavy denim and cotton leggings.
He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, nibbled on the soft flesh with his teeth, and a moan slipped past her throat before she could catch it. Her mind spun, and her thighs clenched against his lean hips.
“You need to relax,” he murmured against her mouth. She felt her lips gradually soften and part for him. “Yeah, that’s it,” he said, then exerted a more provocative pressure with his mouth. “Now give me your tongue…”
Shivering at the husky, rich tone of his voice, she did as he ordered. Completely meshing their lips, she slid her tongue into his mouth and instantly tangled with his, silky slow and lush with promise. The flavor of hot male and honey glaze from the doughnut he’d eaten overwhelmed her, excited her, and made her melt and relax against him.
Three months ago the kiss they’d shared had been a thrill ride neither one of them had expected, giving them little time to explore and enjoy taste and textures. This time, he was entirely too thorough, incredibly indulgent, and generous in catering to her pleasure.
This languorous kiss, as titillating as it was, suddenly wasn’t enough. The need to be a little bit wild and a whole lot uninhibited swept through her. Framing his jaw in her hands, she opened her mouth wider beneath his and took control before she came to her reliable, responsible senses. The pace of their kiss immediately quickened, grew wetter and deeper and shockingly suggestive as their tongues entwined and stroked and mated.
Amazed that she could feel so physically needy, so intensely aroused so quickly, she gave into the sensations lapping at her feminine nerves, screaming for a more sexually charged contact. Locking her calves at the back of Marc’s muscular thighs, she pulled him even closer, welcoming the heat and pressure of him against her newly aroused, swollen flesh.
Marc groaned deep in his throat, the sound reverberating against her lips, her breasts, her belly, between her thighs. Unable to help herself, she tilted her hips and deliberately rubbed against the hard ridge straining the fly of his jeans. She rubbed sinuously again and gasped as he instinctively pushed back, a slow, purposeful stroke that seemed as intimate as him being inside her.
That shameless friction triggered a rush of dampness, a deep clenching of her body, and stole her breath. Their hot, openmouthed kiss turned ravenous and urgent, and he did it again, sliding rhythmically against her, as if he couldn’t help himself.
Desire rippled through her, coiling tight in her belly. An explosive, wondrous climax beckoned, and she whimpered, struggling between holding on and letting go of those restrictions and good-girl tendencies that had ruled her life for so many years.
And just like the first time they’d kissed, she came to her senses and panicked. Physically, he thrilled her, turning her on faster than any man ever had. But it was the complex emotions he evoked that threw off her balance.
The sound of the snowmobiles approaching the cabin escalated Brooke’s alarm. Wedging her hands between them, she pushed her palms against his shoulders frantically, and he immediately came to his senses and pulled away.
Stumbling back, Marc plopped down in the nearest chair, looking dazed and undeniably aroused. “Wow,” he murmured, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “That was incredible.”
Scrambling down from the table, Brooke pressed her palms to her flaming cheeks, unable to deny his claim. Her body buzzed with unfulfilled desire, throbbing for the climax that had been so, so close. She’d been so primed he could have taken her on the table—and how would she have explained her torrid embrace to her sister, who was only a room away? No doubt Jessica would call her a fool for getting involved with another Jamison, for allowing hormones to reduce her to a mass of nerves and sensations with only a need for ultimate satisfaction on her mind.
What made her believe she could indulge in a mind-blowing kiss with him and not want more?
She shook her head, afraid to think of what might happen with all that volatile passion if they ever made love. Not that she was contemplating getting naked with him! “Marc, we can’t do this.”
“I know,” he agreed, his voice tight and strained. He shifted in his chair to find a more comfortable position. Clearly unable to accommodate the bulge straining the zipper of his jeans, he instead clasped his hands strategically in his lap.
She straightened her sweater with a yank, and nearly groaned as the rasping sensation tantalized her sensitive nipples. “Well, don’t worry, it won’t happen again.”
His gaze narrowed perceptively, a spark of Jamison challenge glimmering in his eyes, as if she’d issued him a dare. “You don’t think so?”
“I know so,” she said adamantly.
The sound of Shane’s deep voice and Stacey’s flirtatious laughter drifted from just outside the kitchen door leading to the back area of the cabin. Brooke willed the couple inside, fervently hoping they’d interrupt what had become a very awkward conversation.
Marc glanced at the door, then back at her, knowing his time was limited. “Brooke, two people don’t kiss like that unless there’s a certain chemistry and a strong attraction between them.”
One she couldn’t afford to explore further. Not with him. “Call it a release of sexual frustration. It’s been a long, celibate year for me.”
Irritation creased his expression at her flippant tone. “So you’re insinuating that you would have responded to any man the same way?”
No, she thought miserably, knowing that a faceless stranger wouldn’t have evoked such a startling heat, hunger and need. But that was part of the problem with Marc. She’d never responded so shamelessly, so eagerly to a man in her entire life. Neither Eric nor her one sexual encounter in college had prepared her for this. Marc’s magnetism and appeal seemed to strip away every proper, responsible characteristic she’d honed since the age of thirteen, reducing her to a sensual creature who couldn’t get enough of that blend of excitement and ecstasy Marc’s kisses promised.
She shrugged indifferently, letting the gesture speak for itself, since she couldn’t bring herself to lie to him.
His lips at first pursed, then he opened his mouth to argue—just as the back door opened and Stacey and Shane entered the kitchen, thankfully intercepting his rebuttal.
“That morning ride was incredibly exhilarating!” Stacey said, sounding like a giddy schoolgirl in the throes of her first crush.
Ignoring the extra occupants in the room, Marc swallowed back whatever words he’d been about to impart, but boldly held Brooke’s gaze. Indeed, she couldn’t look away. Through the slight haze of frustration and confusion, his eyes conveyed a startling message—they weren’t finished with this particular issue. And he wasn’t finished with her.
The silent claim he staked caused Brooke’s internal temperature to spike, despite the gust of cool air Shane and Stacey’s arrival had invited into the room. Her traitorous pulse fluttered, stoking the desire simmering just beneath the surface. Did she even stand a chance if Marc followed through with that sexy threat to pursue her?
“Umm, are we interrupting something?” Stacey asked, too much interest infusing her voice.
The last thing Brooke wanted was Stacey speculating over her relationship with Marc, and coming to conclusions she didn’t want to discuss with a woman who had a fearless, fabulous sex life.
Before she could formulate a response, Marc stood, the evidence of what had transpired between them earlier not nearly as obvious now that his body and libido had time to cool. “You’re not interrupting anything that Brooke and I can’t resolve at another time.” Though he answered Stacey, his gaze never wavered from Brooke’s.
In her opinion, there was nothing left for them to resolve. Of course the rogue knew she wouldn’t oppose him with an audience listening in on their debate.
Finally, he glanced at Shane. “You ready to head over to the lodge for the day?”
Shane exchanged a reluctant look with Stacey that made it clear they would have preferred to spend the day together. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
Stacey winked at Shane as she casually pulled off her lined gloves. “I’ll catch up with you on the slopes later,” she promised.
The two men left the kitchen, and an unnerving silence settled over the room.
Stacey unwrapped the colorful scarf from her neck, a knowing smile curving lips stung red from the cold. “Well, well, well,” she murmured.
Brooke knew exactly what those three simple words meant, knew precisely what was tumbling through Stacey’s mind. She held up a hand to ward off her friend’s interrogation. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“All right,” Stacey conceded, but her gaze sparkled with mischief and a wicked provocation. “You ready to put last night’s plan into action?”
No. Without the buzz of the margarita giving her courage and with the taste of Marc still lingering on her tongue, going out on a man-hunt held little appeal. But she desperately needed the distraction, and there was always the possibility that flirting with another man, and enjoying his attentions, would make her forget about Marc and that luscious, earth-shattering kiss they shared.
Pulling in a deep breath, she fabricated an optimistic smile. “I’m ready. Let’s do it.”
STACEY NUDGED BROOKE with her elbow and gestured to a good-looking blond-haired guy making his way to the end of the line for the ski lift, where the two of them were waiting their turn.
“What do you think of him?” Stacey asked out of the corner of her mouth. “He has a great body, and a nice smile.”
Brooke tried to regard her friend’s newest quarry objectively, and like every other man Stacey had singled out, she found herself comparing him to Marc, whose body proved to be a perfect fit for hers, and who owned a lazy smile that seemed to stroke her senses as intimately as a caress. This guy’s physique didn’t spark even a glimmer of interest, and his smile was a shade too cocky for her liking. And she was coming to realize that she preferred dark hair over light.
A curvaceous woman crossed the man’s path. Without an ounce of subtlety, he craned his neck around and lowered his sunglasses to gawk at her retreating backside, a wolfish smile transforming his features.
Brooke rolled her eyes, completely turned off by the guy’s arrogance and playboy image. “He looks like he’s on the prowl.”
Amused laughter bubbled out of Stacey as they moved closer to the head of the line. “Oh, and we aren’t?” she asked wryly. “I thought finding a man for you was the purpose of today’s expedition.”
“It was. I mean, it is,” she amended, trying to sound enthusiastic. “I just haven’t seen a guy yet that makes me want to tap into that wild side you’re so sure I’m suppressing.”
The ski lift attendant motioned them into position, and both she and Stacey held tight to their poles as the next chair swung around, swooped them up, and began its ascent to the top of the intermediate slope.
“You’ve rejected about a dozen prospects so far just at a glance, without giving any of them a fair chance,” Stacey said, continuing their conversation without missing a beat. “There are only so many single men on the mountain, Brooke, and you’ve narrowed the field considerably.”
Brooke made a playful face at her friend. “The day is young, and we still have all afternoon.” She shrugged. “I don’t want to ‘settle.”’
A sudden, dreamy sigh drifted from Stacey. “I, personally, would settle for Shane, and be perfectly happy for the rest of our vacation.”
“I think the feeling is mutual.” Brooke grinned at Stacey’s obvious intentions. “I take it you’re going to ‘just do it’ with Shane?”
“Oh, yeah.” Stacey waggled her brows lasciviously. “The first chance we get.”
Brooke chuckled and shook her head. Glad that she’d managed to reroute Stacey’s thought process, she glanced down at the crowd of people below enjoying the recent snowfall, and promptly frowned when she caught sight of Marc at the base of the beginner’s slope. He was hard to miss, with his shock of thick black hair, those wide shoulders she’d clung to this morning, and black Lycra coveralls that defined his lean, honed body and sexy male attributes.
He was helping a little girl about the age of eight learn to ski, and alternating his attention to the very grown woman accompanying the child. The redhead appeared completely captivated with Marc and had no qualms about touching him at every opportunity.
She released a disgruntled snort that did little to alleviate the growing pressure in her chest. Their kiss wasn’t even cold and Marc was already moving on to another more willing female. As the lift climbed higher, she twisted around to keep him in sight, disgusted with her weakness for yet another Jamison. And she fiercely resented that the lusty embrace they’d shared in the kitchen had meant very little to Marc, while her body was still trying to deal with the shimmering after-effects of that encounter.
“For crying out loud, Brooke, I can’t take this anymore.”
Stacey’s exasperated tone had Brooke straightening in her seat so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. The carriage rocked precariously, and Brooke gripped the safety bar for support. “You can’t take what anymore?” She blinked in wide-eyed innocence at Stacey.
Her friend raised a perfectly arched brow. “What’s going on between you and Marc?”
“Nothing,” she said, then winced at the too-adamant tone of her voice, as if she were trying to convince herself of the fact.
Stacey scoffed. “Yeah, right. There were enough sparks in the kitchen this morning to light up the sky on the Fourth of July.” A humorous smile curled the corners of her mouth. “Maybe you don’t need to look any further than our own cabin for your prospect.”
“Are you nuts?” Her high-pitched voice echoed in the high altitude, and she lowered her volume when she realized she’d garnered the attention of the couple ahead of them. “Marc is my brother-in-law!”
“Ex,” Stacey reminded her oh-so-helpfully, making the excuse a flimsy one. “Which makes him just as eligible for your vacation fling as any other man in Quail Valley.”
Brooke sucked cold mountain air into her lungs, which only served to make her light-headed. “Except for the fact that he’s not a stranger I can just leave behind.” She had a feeling if she sampled a taste of mindless sexual gratification with Marc there would be no going back, that she’d want more than he was capable of giving—like sentimental desires and expectations. She wasn’t willing to risk the staid, orderly existence she’d adopted after her divorce for that kind of emotional upheaval.
The chair headed toward their drop-off, and Stacey flipped up the fur-lined collar of her jacket around her neck while slanting Brooke a mocking look. “Jeez, it was just a suggestion. You don’t have to get so defensive.”
“I’m not getting defensive,” she argued, then immediately softened her tone. “I’m trying to be reasonable.”
“I thought we agreed that was part of your problem, that you’re way too analytical and pragmatic.” She tugged on her gloves, and gripped her ski poles in her right hand in anticipation of exiting the lift. “Judging by that flush I saw on your face this morning in the kitchen, I’m guessing that Marc turned you on.”
Brooke’s cheeks burned, and it had nothing to do with the cold or stinging breeze, and everything to do with Stacey’s accurate summary of her morning episode with Marc. She didn’t bother issuing a futile denial when the truth remained, that she was still turned on.
Stacey grinned in her own personal victory. “Why pursue some stranger if the guy who turns you on is standing right in front of you?” Having imparted those pearls of wisdom, Stacey released the safety bar and glanced at her one last time. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got my own prospect to pursue.”
Brooke slipped her sunglasses back on to cut the glare from the sun and snow. “Shane doesn’t stand a chance.”
Stacey’s laugh was throaty and very confident. “Of course he doesn’t. Ta-ta for now.” And then she was off.
Brooke hopped down from the lift after Stacey and skied down the slope at a leisurely pace. By the time she reached the base, Marc and the redhead were nowhere to be found. Brooke wasn’t surprised. Attempting to put him out of her mind, she forced herself to enjoy the great skiing conditions and exercise.
The afternoon passed quickly. At a quarter after three Brooke decided on one last run before heading to the lodge for a latte, and to wait for Stacey so they could head back to the cabin. She trudged toward the ski lift line to wait her turn.
“Mind if I share a chair with you?”
Every nerve ending tingled to life at the deep, masculine timbre of Marc’s voice. She glanced over her shoulder and found the object of her fantasies standing there with an adorable grin tipping the corners of his mouth. He wore reflective sunglasses, and she disliked being at a disadvantage, unable to read that bold gaze of his.
She gave an indifferent shrug, though she was feeling anything but. “No, I don’t mind.”
Once they were situated on the lift and the chair began its climb skyward, Brooke slanted him a casual glance. “Did things not work out with the redhead?” she asked, and immediately chastised herself for being so blunt.
Finally, he removed that barrier in front of his expressive eyes, letting the nylon cord around his neck catch the sunglasses as they dropped against his chest. Tilting his head, his brows puckered thoughtfully. “The redhead?”
As if he didn’t know who she was talking about! “The one with the little girl.”
Understanding dawned, and the knowing grin spreading across his handsome face crinkled the skin at the corners of his eyes. “Ahh, the redhead.”
Brooke bit the inside of her cheek, too affected by the teasing glint in his smoky-gray eyes. Despite herself, she marveled that Marc was so different in personality from his older, more serious brother—so fun-loving, carefree and playful. But there was one similarity the two brothers shared, a significant characteristic she couldn’t discount. “You move on quick, Jamison.”
Stretching his arm across the back of the chair, he touched his gloved fingers to her jaw, his bemusement fading into something far more resolute and sincere. “And you’re jumping to wrong conclusions, honey.”
A head-to-toe shiver coursed through her. It had nothing to do with the cold weather, but was provoked by the rumbly sound of his voice, the heat in his gaze, and the raspy feel of his glove against her skin. Honey. The endearment was intimate and personal, a pet name even Eric hadn’t used with her. It made her feel special and cherished and too close to falling for Marc’s innate charm.
Trying not to let his sweet-talk distract her, she responded to his statement with a challenge of her own—even as her mind whispered that she shouldn’t care what his intentions with the redhead had been. Unfortunately, their kiss had struck a possessive bone in her body she hadn’t known existed. “Am I jumping to the wrong conclusion?”
“Yeah, you are.” He held her gaze, his eyes clear and honest, offering her something Eric never had—a keen sense of trust. “I know how it probably looked, but I was teaching the little girl to ski. She’d taken a couple of hard spills and was crying because she was frustrated, and I didn’t want her to give up when I knew once she got the hang of it she’d have a blast.”
“Ahh,” she murmured, striving for a humorous note. “A very clever way to get to know her mother better.”
He laughed, the rich, unfettered sound wrapping around Brooke like a warm, fuzzy blanket on a chilly day. “Oh, the woman was definitely interested, but I wasn’t. But don’t worry, I let her down gently.” He blinked those long, sooty lashes of his lazily. “I spent about an hour with Amber, showing her the basic moves, and before long she was mastering the bunny slope and I had a line of about half a dozen other kids begging for lessons.”
“So you spent the afternoon teaching kids how to ski?” She couldn’t keep the incredulity from her voice.
“Pretty much.” He gave her French braid a gentle tug. “Don’t look so shocked. I enjoy kids.”
Brooke pictured the scene, with Marc surrounded by six or more eager children, all vying for his attention. Judging by the wide grin on his face, he’d reveled in playing ski instructor to the little imps.
“I have to admit that I am surprised. Eric was never really comfortable around children.”
Marc’s lips thinned. Obviously, the comparison didn’t please or flatter him in the least. “And you just automatically assumed the same applied for me?”
She glanced away, toward the approaching unloading station, ashamed to admit that she’d done exactly that—unfairly painting Marc with the same brush as Eric when there was so much she didn’t know about Marc. She owed him an apology.
Meeting his troubled gaze, and wondering about the emotions swirling in the shadowed depths, she attempted to explain. “I’m sorry—”
“I don’t claim to be perfect, Brooke,” he cut in quickly, seeming to want to state his own argument before they reached the ramp and he lost the opportunity. “I’ve made mistakes I’m not proud of, but I’d like to think that I’ve learned from them. I just want you to know that what you see is exactly what you get. I don’t pretend to be anything more or less.”
Brooke swallowed, hard. What she saw was someone who was caring and honest, a trait she’d learned to value above all else at a very early age. A quality she’d realized too late had been absent in her marriage to Eric. She appreciated that characteristic in Marc, along with his ability to speak openly and candidly without fearing what others might think. She was learning that he was a man who didn’t hide behind pretenses…as his brother had.
The chair made the connection into the station and the safety bar unlatched under the pressure of Marc’s gloved hand. He glanced at her one last time and flashed her a quick smile that dissolved the serious moment and put their relationship back into familiar territory—as friends.
“Thanks for the ride.” Slipping on his glasses, he moved to the edge of his seat until his skis skimmed hard-packed snow. “I’ll see you back at the cabin.”
She watched him go, then followed behind. While Marc navigated the hill with finesse and speed, Brooke opted to take her last ride down the slope slow and easy.
What you see is exactly what you get. Marc’s comment echoed in her mind, along with Stacey’s remark about him being a suitable prospect. The two went hand in hand, she realized with sudden insight.
She’d automatically discounted the idea of having a wild fling with Marc as ludicrous, but now she reconsidered that option. He might not be a stranger she could leave behind, but he was a man who wouldn’t expect anything more from her than the good time she was determined to have before returning to her dependable job and her responsible, boring life. Separating her feelings for Marc from her quest for physical gratification wouldn’t be easy, but she was determined to have this, and him, and for once in her life ignore her practical, sensible nature.
Their undeniable attraction was a bonus, and they’d proved with two kisses that the chemistry between them would be explosive. Awesomely so. She didn’t doubt that he’d be an attentive, focused lover…and she could depend on him to keep their liaison discreet.
A slow smile curved her mouth. He was the perfect candidate. She knew and trusted him, which made more sense than taking a risk with someone she truly didn’t know. She and Marc were beyond first kisses, so there would be no awkward moments to worry about, no wondering if she turned him on. She already knew.
Oh, yeah, she thought with a renewed surge of excitement. If she indulged in all Marc had to offer without any expectations besides pleasure and fun, she’d walk away satisfied and Marc would have enjoyed the challenge—a win-win situation.
She wanted this. For once, she wanted to please herself, without analyzing the outcome or worrying about consequences. She wanted to shuck her reserved, practical nature, forget insecurities, and experience lust and passion in its fullest measure. Marc had given her a taste of that particular ecstasy, and she was determined to devour the entire sensual feast.
Only one issue stood in her way…figuring out a way to proposition Marc.