Remember Me (6 page)

“Not a problem.” She didn’t want to tell him it made her feel cared for, and it had been so long since anyone had looked out for her best interests. But it warmed her, and Lucy held onto the feeling.

Matt was there at the lift and, this early in the morning, just a few hardy skiers were already out. They shared the chair, Lucy sandwiched between the two men. When they reached the top, Matt indicated they should go to the left.

“Lodge View’s a pretty quiet run. Did you do it yesterday?”

Brandon shook his head. “I kept her on the other side, on the shorter run to give her more experience getting on and off the lift, that kind of thing.”

Matt smiled at her. “This run has a few turns a little tighter than what you did yesterday, but it will give us a chance to see if you can maneuver well enough, plus the length will be a good indication if you’ve got the stamina for a longer run.”

Lucy grinned at them. “I’m game.”

In all fairness, she was fit enough from dancing she’d had no soreness whatsoever following skiing yesterday. Matt stepped up the pace a bit, so the run today demanded more concentration, but when they reached the bottom, she now saw a gleam of approval on Brandon’s friend’s face.

He clapped her on the shoulder. “You might be new to skiing, but it’s obvious you keep yourself fit.” He looked at Brandon. “Go on. I just wish I could join you, dude, but I’ve got to go over supply orders with my managers. Stop by my office when you get back and let me know how it goes.”

“No problem.”

Brandon put an arm around Lucy’s shoulders. “Ready, baby?”

She nodded. “If you two think I can do it, I’ll give it a try.”

By the time they returned to the lodge at lunchtime, Lucy was glowing with exertion and couldn’t remember when she’d had so much fun. Brandon slung his arm around her waist and pulled her close. She fit perfectly along his side, and her smoldering attraction caught fire.

“I ordered lunch in my suite. I’ve also got a whirlpool tub in the master bath if you’d like to work out a few kinks.” He glanced at her with a sly grin. “It’s big enough for two.”

Heat raced through her. It must have shown because the grin left his face and his green-gold eyes blazed like the sun.

When he spoke again, his voice was a throaty growl. “What would you say to trying the tub first?”

Lucy could be nothing other than honest. “Yes.”

He hurried her through the lodge. When he opened the door with his key card, she noticed a slight tremble in his fingers. Apparently they were both turned on. He proved it true as soon as the door shut behind them. His fingers went to the zipper on her jacket, sliding it down at the same time he leaned in to kiss her.

“Damn, baby,” he choked, drawing back. “I swore I would go slow with you this time around, but every time I get near you, I feel like an out-of-control teenager. I’m so damn hard right now.”

She was feeling the same way, and was already working on his clothing. With his jacket unzipped, she slipped her hands inside and around him until she could pull him into her. When his hips met her stomach, his erection rubbed her. Lucy gulped.

“You know, slow can be for after lunch. Let’s just do fast now.”

He pulled back a bit and stared into her face for a moment before the hard planes of his softened and he chuckled. “I am so with you.”

Laughing together, they stripped off their clothing. Lucy finished first and took a moment to enjoy the pure, masculine beauty of him. Dark gold hair covered his chest and arrowed down to his thick cock. When she saw how hard he was, she gulped and took off down the hall to the bathroom with Brandon right behind her. She had already turned on the taps when he caught her and spun her into his arms.

“I watched your tight little ass swaying in front of me all morning and could barely concentrate on skiing because of the effect you were having on my body. Now, it’s a question of if I can wait long enough to get you in the tub, if I bend you over right here or set you on the counter and just spread you open.”

Lucy took a step toward him and twined her arms around his neck. She had never felt so comfortable right off the bat with any man, and though she trembled with arousal, there was no hesitation in her. “Let’s start with the last and work our way backward.”

“I like the way you think, lady.”

Brandon’s hands slid down her back, cupped her bottom and lifted her. She almost gasped when the contrast of the cold marble vanity touched her overheated skin. Brandon’s hands slid along her thighs, flooding her with even more sensation. While one held her hip, the other dipped and cupped her sex. Now she did gasp. Then he slipped a finger inside and she moaned.

“Look at me, Lucy,” Brandon ordered, and she glanced up from what he was doing. His gaze burned. “I want you right now. Nice can come later.”

His fingers moved and she threw her head back. “Please,” she choked. She heard the slide of a drawer, his fingers withdrew for a moment and the sound of a foil packet tearing followed. Then there was another, thicker probing between her legs. Lucy’s eyes snapped open, and she met his gaze.

“Now,” she hissed.

He thrust into her, filling her until she was positive she would burst with pleasure. When he began to stroke, she moaned. Skin slapped against skin. They panted. Forget gentleness. Brandon’s lovemaking was fast, hot and intense, and their releases tumbled one over the other with equal fury. He leaned his forehead on the top of her head, and Lucy held onto his shoulders, afraid she would collapse into a boneless puddle at his feet. She couldn’t think, just feel.

Gradually, the sound of running water intruded. Her breathing settled.

“The bath,” Lucy gasped.

“Shit!” Brandon withdrew, turned the taps off, then stripped the condom from himself. “In the nick of time, though I suspect we’ll overflow it when we get in.” He arched a brow at her. “Ready?”

“Absolutely.”

* * * *

Brandon tossed the condom in the trash, his heart beating double-time. Last night had surprised him with its intensity, just now had shocked the shit out of him. He’d had his share of lovers, even had a couple of women he’d thought he was serious about. He’d never had anyone like Lucy.

“You getting in?” she asked.

He smiled at her. “Yeah.” As he’d suspected, the water overflowed onto the tile. When Lucy cast a worried glance at it, he grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll talk to the concierge about getting someone in to clean it.”

She nodded and eased back, sinking to her shoulders. “Oh Lord, that feels good. I often indulge myself at home once I’ve worked out at the Y.”

Brandon climbed in facing her, more water sloshing over the sides. Lucy had her eyes closed, her expression peaceful. She looked beautiful. She looked like she fit in his life. He wanted more than this week. He wanted them to become a couple when this vacation was over with. And when had he become tied to a female like his pathetic elder brother? Seth’s sole focus these days was Tessa, especially with her getting so close to delivering their child. He’d watched the protectiveness with amusement, but now he understood. Lucy had knocked him sideways, and he wasn’t at all sure she was even aware of it.

He caught her foot beneath the water and began to massage it. Her eyes fluttered open and she purred. No other way to describe it and, oh man, did it make him go hard again. Too bad he hadn’t brought a condom with him. Her foot brushed his cock. Now her eyes snapped open.

“Brandon?”

He nodded. “Oh yeah, I’m hard again, but I’ll live.”

“Yes, but I don’t want you in pain.” She shifted positions until she had somehow scooted between his legs. Her hand wrapped around him.

“Oh man.”

He let her caress him until he was afraid he couldn’t handle it any longer. When he rose from the tub, he held his hand out to her. “Come on. Grab some towels. We’ll continue this in bed.”

They took turns drying each other off, and if their efforts became caresses and kisses rather than toweling dry, Brandon had no complaint. Now, with his lips traveling across Lucy’s taught belly to the weeping heat of her sex, he doubted she had any complaints either. At last, he would show her the exact way he wanted to pleasure her. She was so responsive, her body moving with him and her cries filling the air, that when he tasted her, his body tightened with the need to come yet again.

Not yet. Not this time. This time was for her and her only. But in the end, Lucy wouldn’t let it happen with her as the sole focus. She pleasured him in return. Now at long last, they lay wrapped in each other’s arms, the covers drawn up while they dozed in the aftermath of what they’d shared.

Brandon had found the one thing he had doubted he ever would–his woman.

It took a while, but hunger drove them into the living room. Lucy was once again in his Nationals sweatshirt and boxers, while he’d pulled on flannel sleep pants and a t-shirt.

“This is getting to be a habit,” Lucy joked.

“Mmm. One I think I like. Eat up, baby. I want to take you into town this afternoon.”

They showered together after lunch, though it took some time to finish playing and start washing. Back in their skiwear, with snow boots replacing ski boots, Brandon dropped an arm around her shoulders and guided her out to his rental car. The trip was a winding one, but beautiful, made more so by the woman sitting next to him. Wow, he had gone nuts.

Once they reached Falcon’s Head, Brandon had to juggle for a place to park. At the tail end of the ski season, it seemed everyone was trying to get one last trip in. Afraid they would become separated, Brandon took Lucy’s hand and laughed when she raised one brow at him. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Her smile altered, her gaze grew serious. “You won’t. Not if you don’t want to.”

“Lucy…” He brought her hand to his lips. “Come on. Let’s go in here.” He drew her in off the crowded sidewalk, not even sure what kind of store they were entering.

“Oh!” At her delighted exclamation, Brandon realized they’d entered a small art gallery. And she had a masters in art history. He couldn’t have planned it better if he’d tried.

“Would you like to look around?”

She smiled, her gray eyes alight. “You don’t mind?”

An unaccustomed feeling of tenderness welled in him at the look of excitement on her face. Her gaze was drawn to a section including pottery and sculpture.

“Oh. Brandon. Look!” She pulled him by the hand over to a sculpture of a cowboy huddled on his horse as if seeking shelter from inclement weather. “I think this is a real Frederic Remington sculpture…not a reproduction.”

“How can you tell?” He was curious.

She bent closer to the sculpture. “The base is the first clue. A lot of reproductions are mounted on marble bases. It’s very rare to see an original one outside a museum anymore. And I see this one is not for sale. No surprise there. When an original goes up for sale, it’s a big deal, like a Sotheby’s or Christie’s auction.”

He could see how much she wanted to put her hands on the artwork, and knew admiring art was not her true love. She looked at it with the desire to create, to be able to feel what the artist had felt beneath her own fingers.

“I see you’re admiring the Remington.” An older woman, either the owner or manager, approached them. “It is an original, and not for sale, I’m afraid.”

“I thought it might be an original, but of course without being able to see the foundry mark and numbering…”

The woman’s eyes lit. “You’re familiar with authenticating art work?”

Lucy shifted. “I’m an art historian, but not professionally. I also work in clay.”

Brandon stepped back and observed, seeing a side to Lucy that was new to him. Her personality was happy and easygoing, so envisioning her being intense about anything was difficult. But when it came to discussing art, she was in her element. He followed the two women from the Remington to a display of Native American pottery.

The owner handed her a pot, which Lucy examined in detail. “This is modern pottery,” the owner said, “an olla, done in the traditional style.”

“What’s an olla?” Brandon inquired.

Lucy answered him. “It’s a type of unglazed pot that’s been a staple of most Southwestern Native American tribes for more than a thousand years. The jar would be used for soups, stews…any number of things. Ollas exist in every culture, but this style is consistent with this part of the country.” She turned to the owner. “It’s fantastic there are still potters keeping the tradition alive.”

They looked at some more pots, Brandon content to walk behind the two women. “So are you a potter?” the gallery owner inquired.

“Yes. I learned it from my grandmother. I had to give it up for a few years, but I’ve been working with several designs, some on the wheel, but others using a coil technique like many of the eastern Native American cultures.”

“Do you have any of your work on display?”

Lucy shook her head. Brandon saw her blush. “I haven’t made a determined effort to market it yet, so I guess it’s more of a hobby right now.”

“If you’re interested in pottery, you should go over to the museum in Coyote Creek. It’s a long drive from here, but you can fly it in less than an hour.”