Her Mountain Man (18 page)

She said an early good-night to the happy couple and hurried home to her apartment, where she switched on the computer and settled in to write. She was aware of the irony of the moment; she was using the same classic escape mechanism she’d accused Paul of, running away to work. He lost himself on a mountaintop, while she lost herself in the lines on her computer screen.

Currently she was working on a profile of a woman who had been inspired by the loss of a younger brother to cancer to pursue her medical degree. Dr. Felicity Alvarez had established a ground-breaking program for coordinating medical care for the city’s poorest children—those who lived in housing projects and homeless shelters. Sierra had no doubt
Cherché
’s readers would find her story inspiring.

Writing about the brother who’d died, however, only made Sierra think of Paul. Even work was no longer the escape she’d hoped for—damn the man. Two thousand miles across the country and he was still messing up her life.

Impulsively, before she could chicken out or talk herself out of it, she grabbed her phone and punched in his number. Yes, she had done it so many times, she now had the ten digits memorized. She’d always hung up before he’d answered, but this time she let it ring.

And ring. On the sixth ring, a tinny rendition of his voice filled her ears. “Hey, it’s Paul. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

What could she say?
You’re driving me crazy! I can’t stop thinking about you?

I think I love you?

She hung up and sat staring at the silent receiver. Yes, apparently it was possible to love a man she’d only known a week. Of course, they’d spent a great deal of time together during her time in Ouray—as much as some couples spent together in relationships that lasted months.

So maybe the length of their acquaintance didn’t make such a big difference. There was the distance problem, but she was willing to compromise. She could move to Ouray. She liked it there. It reminded her of the little California town where she’d grown up. She could work from there.

She’d even be okay with some climbing if he’d stick to local fourteeners. But she didn’t want him risking his life on major peaks. She didn’t want to lose him.

But it wasn’t only that. She wanted to know she mattered more than those damn mountains.

And that was the problem with him asking her to move in with him—it was too practical. He said he wanted to be with her, that he loved her even. But he might as well have been declaring he loved sunny days or cheese enchiladas. Where was the
passion?

Her eyes burned and she blinked rapidly. She refused to cry over Paul. He wasn’t worth the tears.

And he wasn’t worth all this fretting. She turned resolutely back to the computer and began typing:
Felicity Alvarez took one of life’s greatest losses and turned it into a victory, for herself and for the hundreds of children whose lives she has saved…

“Uh, yeah. I’m looking for 250 West Fifty-Seventh.”

“You’re almost there.” The man pointed. “That white building with the big planters on either side of the entrance.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Enjoy your stay in New York.”

The man moved on. How had he known Paul was new to the city? Paul chuckled. Maybe the hiking boots and fully loaded backpack were his first clue.

He hoisted the pack a little higher on his shoulders and set off for the white building with the planters. Once inside, he studied the building directory.

“Sir? May I help you?” A granite-faced security guard approached.

“No, thanks. I know where I’m headed now.” He turned toward the elevator.

The guard stepped in front of him. “Sir, where are you headed?”

“Eighth floor.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No.” He frowned. The whole point of this visit was to surprise Sierra.

“You can’t go up without an appointment.”

“I just need to go up for a minute to say hello to a friend.”

“No one is allowed up without an appointment.”

Paul understood the need for security, but this was maddening—not to mention the guard was spoiling his plan. “Call upstairs and ask for Mark Ekstein,” he said. “He’s an editor at
Great Outdoors.
Tell him Paul Teasdale is here to see him.”

“Mr. Ekstein works on the tenth floor,” the guard said. “You said you wanted the eighth floor.”

“Just call him. Please.”

Watching him as if he expected Paul to make a break for it at any second, the guard stepped behind a desk and picked up a black telephone handset. A few moments later he returned. “Mr. Ekstein is on his way down.”

The guard continued to stare while Paul pretended to study the building directory once more. Several people gave him curious looks as they passed, all of them approaching the elevator unmolested. Maybe if Paul had worn a suit and carried a briefcase, the guard wouldn’t have accosted him.

The elevator doors parted and a tall man with thinning dark hair stepped out. “Paul? What are you doing in Manhattan?”

Paul moved over, out of earshot of the guard, and explained his dilemma. “It’s all right, Stewart,” Mark said to the guard. “I’ll take Mr. Teasdale up with me.”

“He’ll have to leave the backpack,” the guard said.

Paul started to argue, then thought better of it. “Fine,” he said, shrugging out of the pack. “But if anything happens to it, I’m holding you responsible.”

He suppressed a grin as the guard struggled under the weight of the pack, then followed Mark into the elevator. “It’s great to finally meet you,” Mark said.

“You, too.” He wanted to ask about Sierra—was she all right? Did she ever talk about him? Was she dating anyone else? But he’d know the answers to those questions soon enough, so he kept quiet.

“What did you want to see me about?” Mark asked as the elevator rose swiftly toward the fourteenth floor.

“I’m hoping you can get me in to see Sierra,” Paul said. “The guard wouldn’t let me go up by myself and I’m hoping to surprise her.”

“Sierra? Sure, I can take you to her.” Mark leaned forward and punched the button for eight. Paul waited for him to ask more questions, but Mark merely gave him a speculative look and remained silent.

The elevator stopped on the eighth floor and Mark led Paul through a pair of frosted-glass doors, past a receptionist Mark addressed as Stephanie and down a thickly carpeted hallway. The air smelled like floral perfume and fresh-brewed coffee, and as they passed open office doors Paul heard snippets of conversations, the whir of printers and faxes, and ringing telephones. Mark stopped at a door near the end of the hall. “Sierra, there’s someone here to see you.”

Paul had spent a lot of time these past weeks thinking about her, but his memories didn’t do her justice. He had to remind himself to breathe as he stared at her. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, but also more polished. She wore her hair swept back from her face with combs. Dressed in a trim black suit, purple blouse and purple heels with bows at the ankles, everything about her screamed city sophistication. Paul was conscious of his own wrinkled hiking pants and T-shirt. No wonder the guard had looked at him as if he was someone from another planet.

“Paul?” She stared at him, her expression somewhere between delight and distress. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m doing some fundraising and publicity for a new project I’m working on.”

Which wasn’t at all what he’d meant to say.
I came to see you,
were the proper words—the true ones. But when he’d opened his mouth that other safe, practical speech came out. It was true, too, but not the truth that concerned her. “I wanted to see you,” he added, he hoped not too late.

“I’ll leave you two alone now,” Mark said, and slipped away. Paul wondered if Sierra even noticed. Her eyes remained fixed on him.

“What kind of project?” she asked.

He sat in the chair across from her, hoping she’d sit also, but she remained standing. “I’m starting up a camp for critically ill children,” he said. “A place where they can come and spend time in the mountains, away from their illness, but still receive the care they need.” After working with Rocco that day at the pool, he’d discovered there was no permanent place in that part of Colorado for children and their families to visit, only occasional pieced-together trips. His camp would be able to serve many more children from hospitals all over the United States.

“You are? That’s great, that’ll be a good project for you between climbs.”

“No more climbs,” he said. “Well, maybe a four-teener here and there, but I’m hanging up my gear. Running my camp is going to be a full-time job.”

Another one of those looks he couldn’t read. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought she was about to cry. “What brought this on?” she asked.

“A lot of things. Meeting you, for one.” She had said he’d have to quit climbing in order for them to be together. At the time, it had seemed like too much of a sacrifice, but a lot of things had changed since then. “I realized there’s more to life than bagging the next peak,” he said. “I thought climbing made me feel more alive, but I realize now that I can get a bigger rush—a bigger affirmation that life is worth living—by helping kids get out in nature and discover all they’re capable of.”

“That’s wonderful.”

You’re wonderful.
But what if she didn’t feel the same about him anymore? He’d gone over this meeting in his head a thousand times on the flight over. Everything went perfectly in his mind, but now that he was here, the possibility of rejection paralyzed him. He cleared his throat, trying to keep the conversation going while he worked up his courage. He wasn’t normally a coward, but this moment mattered so much—more than anything he’d ever done. “I was able to use my reputation and my contacts to line up sponsors and donors for the new camp,” he said. “I’ve got some land not far from Ouray and we’ve already started construction on cabins and a main lodge and clinic. We’re hoping to open next summer.”

“Oh. That’s great.” She lowered herself into the chair behind her desk.

None of this was going the way he’d planned. She was supposed to rush into his arms and declare how much she’d missed him. He groped for something else to say, to shift the mood to something more upbeat. His gaze settled on her purse, resting on the corner of her desk. “I see you still have the netsuke.” He nodded to the red dragon that hung from the bag.

“Oh, yes. Thank you again for sending it. It means a lot.”

“I never should have kept it. I know Victor would have wanted you to have it.”

“I don’t think he’d have minded you keeping it for a while. I think my father would have liked you.”

Great, but what did
she
think of him? “I was hoping you could help me,” he said.

“Help you? Does Mark want me to write an article about your camp?” She glanced toward the doorway, which the editor had long since vacated.

“No. I was hoping…” He took a deep breath, then rushed on. “I was hoping you’d agree to help with the camp. I need someone to handle publicity and work with the media. It doesn’t pay much, but it comes with a cabin and…and we’d be near each other.”

“You’re offering me a job?”

He winced. This was going worse than that trip to Disney when he was a kid. He needed to fix this. “A job if you want it. And a place to live. I…I want us to be together and I thought this was a way to do it, without rushing you into anything.”

“Of course not. We wouldn’t want to rush.” Her voice held a chill that was reflected in her eyes. His stomach hurt.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I think your camp sounds great. And I’m glad you’re not climbing anymore.”

“I mean, what do you think about my offer?”

She avoided his eyes, her gaze focused on the papers on her desk. “It was good of you to think of me, but I’ll have to pass.”

He gripped the arms of the chair until his knuckles ached. “You’re sure you won’t reconsider?”

“No. It was great to see you, and I appreciate the offer, but I really do have a lot of work to do.”

He might have been a salesman she was trying to get rid of. So much for thinking she loved him the way he loved her. How could he have misread her so badly? He stood. “I guess I’ll be going then.”

“Have a nice time in New York.”

The same words had been spoken to him moments before by a stranger. He and Sierra might have been strangers, for all the coldness between them now. He turned and stalked out of the office before he made an even bigger fool of himself.