Three Marie Ferrarella Romances Box Set One (13 page)

“But . . . I . . . like . . . my career. ...” she protested. One strap dropped from her shoulder, soon to be joined by the other. The total descent of the cups was hindered by the hardened tips of her breasts. Nick kissed them ardently through the thin material, making it damp.

“Fine,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “You can go on with it, if that’s what makes you happy,” he told her, his breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps. “I don’t want anything to make you unhappy.”

He unhooked her bra, fondling first one heavy breast and then the other as Shane all but pressed them into his hand.

“But that’ll separate us,” she protested. At that moment the idea of even a short separation was agony.

“Right now the only thing separating us is a little material,” he told her, shifting around and laying her on the bed. As Shane sank down against the fur comforter, Nick made short work of her panties, tantalizing her as he slid them languidly from her hips, first one side and then the other. Her hands ached to draw him near, to touch him as he was touching her.

For a moment, he sat, drinking in the sight of her body as it offered itself to him. His shirt was stripped away in seconds, followed by his boots, then his jeans. His briefs he left for Shane to manage.

“Go ahead,” he coaxed, stretching out next to her on the bed.

Shane was hard pressed to say who was more excited as she felt her heart quicken and a moan escape his lips when she drew away the material from his taut stomach and trim hips. Her cool fingers kneaded his flesh, working their way to his buttocks. She felt all control fleeing from her as the ache within her grew and grew, her body aching against his demandingly.

“Things’ll work out,” he promised her, whispering the words against her ear before he bathed it in short, flaming kisses. “Besides, think of the exclusive story you’ll have: Nick Rutledge loses his heart to efficient journalist with fantastic body.”

Anything Shane might have said in the way of a reply was lost as his mouth covered hers, almost blistering it in its demands. He was drawing away her very soul, pulling it into himself, as passion took over every fiber of her body.

His weight shifted onto hers as she prepared to receive him, all other thoughts scattering in the face of this pending throbbing ecstasy.

“I love you, Shane,” he murmured over and over again, his words heavy with desire.

Rhythmically, the ultimate crescendo building with increasing force, their bodies moved against each other, each leading the other to the promised paradise ahead. The final burst of power left them both breathless, sweetly tired and wrapped in each other’s arms.

“Got to admit,” Nick murmured against her breast as his head comfortably pillowed itself there, “this is definitely better than skiing.” He raised his head to look at her, smoothing back the waves of hair from her face. The very action was loving. “Maybe I’ll just forget about the snow and have my winter carnival right here.”

“Your friends would miss you,” she said, tracing the outline of his mouth with her fingers. She loved his mouth, so quick to smile. She loved everything about him. Was she being a fool to have the doubts she did?

“They’d miss my money at the poker games more.” He laughed, sitting up. Shane watched the muscles ripple in his back as he stood up. Her eyes darted to every part of his physique, looking at the clearly defined ribbons of stomach muscles that accented his taut waist. No one had a right to be so perfectly lovely, she thought. And he wanted to be all hers.

“You’d better get some clothes on before I stop listening to my stomach plead for nourishment and go back for second helpings of you instead,” he said mischievously.

Quickly she rose from the bed, gathering up her scattered clothing, which she donned in less time than it had taken to remove, then opened her suitcase, looking for a hairbrush. She purposely avoided Nick’s eyes as she went about her small tasks.

“I won’t pressure you, Shane,” he said quietly. “But the proposal wasn’t said in the heat of the moment. I really do love you, and something can be worked out.”

“What?” she asked, turning to face him.

“I don’t have all the answers yet,” he told her, giving her a quick kiss as he went on re-buttoning his shirt.

She wanted to believe him, believe in the happy, fairy-tale endings he seemed to specialize in. But even she knew that Hollywood marriages usually didn’t work, and that was without the burden of having a wife who worked on the East Coast. It all seemed doomed before it even came into existence.

“Success doesn’t mean all that much to you, does it?” Shane asked as they came into the dining room, waving to some people they recognized. Nick guided her to a cozy table for two just as an eager waiter approached with their menus.

“No, not really. It helps me go on doing what I like doing, of course. Helps me play good Samaritan when I want to, but if I fell from the top-ten list tomorrow, I wouldn’t grieve over it. I’ve got enough put aside now to insure my way of life for a lot of years to come,” he assured her. “How’s the roast beef special?” he asked the waiter.

“Terrific,” the gangly youth assured him.

“Fine, we’ll take two. Is that all right?” he asked Shane, who nodded.

“But don’t get me wrong,” Nick told her after the waiter had left. “I love my work. It’s a lot of fun for me.”

“And I love mine,” she told him. “I love the excitement of putting together a good story, making it come alive out of bits and pieces of information.”

“I see,” Nick said thoughtfully as the waiter arrived with the tossed green salads that came with the dinner. Any further words on the subject were tabled as Bowman weaved his way toward them through the maze of tables.

“Eat fast, Rutledge. I’ve got a game starting up in twenty minutes,” he told him.

Nick looked at Shane. “Do you mind?”

“Mind? I was just going to ask to sit in,” Shane said brightly.

“Sit in?” Bowman repeated incredulously. He scratched the white fringe about his head. “You play poker?” he asked.

“Like a pro,” she replied.

“Knew there was something about this girl I liked. Bring her along, Rutledge,” he commanded, then went on to speak to someone else.

Nick grinned his approval. “Shane, you sound better and better by the minute.”

Shane went on eating, loving the way he looked at her.

Chapter Nine

Shane stayed in the game as long as she could but cashed her chips in at eleven. The men at her table grumbled good-naturedly about her quitting while she was ahead, but she begged off, saying that any second she was going to fall asleep in her seat. When Nick made a move to follow suit, she shook her head.

“No need for you to quit too,” she told him.

She had fully intended to wait up for him, but once her head hit the pillow, her eyes closed, and she remembered nothing further.

“Up and at ‘em, woman!”

Shane’s eyes flew open, then tried to bring the world into focus. The first thing that materialized was Nick, standing next to the bed, fully dressed and holding skis.

“Up and at who?” she asked, turning over on her side, away from him. Maybe if she shut her eyes really tight, he’d go away. She had absolutely no desire to attempt to learn to ski. High heels were the toughest thing she wanted to master as far as footwear went.

But Nick wouldn’t be put off. He came around the bed to face her once more. “At the slopes,” he said, answering her question. “Now’s the best time to hit them.”

“In the middle of the night?” She groaned.

“The sun’s up.”

“Good, go ski with the sun. I’ll join you later,” she muttered, burying her head under her pillow.

“You’ll join me now,” he insisted, unceremoniously pulling the covers down to her feet in one fluid motion.

Shane shivered as she sat up, a flimsy aqua nightgown wrapped haphazardly around her. One breast threatened to come out at any second.

“Of course,” Nick offered, sitting down on the bed, “the slopes right here are even more tempting than the ones out there. ...” His voice trailed off wickedly.

Shane ran her hands through her wayward hair. “No, I’ll be up in a minute.”

“So will I,” he told her.

Shane took a deep breath, feeling it safer to be out in the open with him. She couldn’t think straight when she was alone with him, and there was so much to be sorted out in the light of day, she told herself. She swung her long legs down onto the cold floor, completely missing the deep-pile scatter rug and hitting the icy floor. The sensation helped bring her to. She walked over to the closet to get something to wear and realized that she hadn’t even unpacked anything yet.

“Give me a minute,” she pleaded, taking a fresh pullover and a pair of ski pants out of her suitcase.

“Need any help changing?” he asked as she went toward the bathroom.

“I’ll manage,” she promised. Somehow, she muttered to herself, I’ve got to manage.

“If I break anything—“ Shane threatened, not at all happy about being mounted on skis. Dawn was just beginning to give light to a sleeping white world. The sun peeked over the mountains, which shimmered, silver-white, in the distance. The freshly fallen snow looked almost like newly whipped cream, with waves and peaks waiting to be touched by the first eager skier.

“I’ll carry you in my arms until you heal,” Nick promised as he handed her the poles. “Now, let’s get started.”

And so began a very long morning. He had her on the small, beginner’s slope. But to Shane the hill looked enormous. She spent most of the time brushing snow off her rear. Finally, after three hours of struggling to her feet, Shane gave up.
 

“I’m no egotist,” she said, taking the hand he offered her as she got up. “I’m not going to pretend I’m going to master this sport when I haven’t got a prayer.”

“That’s okay, Shane; there are some things you do that you’ve mastered very, very well.” He tried to lean over and kiss her, but the skis got in the way.

“See, I told you skiing wasn’t any good.” Shane laughed. “How about lunch?” she suggested. “Falling down makes me hungry.”

“You’re on,” Nick said. “Race you down the slope.”

She groaned. “I was planning on having lunch today,” she protested.

But Nick just laughed, goading her on. Reluctantly she pointed her skis toward the bottom of the hill and maneuvered them as best she could.

Mercifully, right after lunch, Bowman demanded a rematch and Nick was drawn into another poker game. This time Shane declined to sit in, saying she had to catch up on her work. She also had to find some liniment. Her whole body was beginning to ache. She dreaded thinking about what tomorrow would bring.

Tomorrow brought all the sharp pains she had feared it would. After a night of wondrous love-making, she awoke in Nick’s arms to find that her body felt as if rigor mortis had set in.

“Oh, Lord,” she groaned when nothing wanted to move right.

“What?” Nick asked, waking up. The sound of her troubled voice brought an alerted look into his eyes.

“I’m going to die. No, change that. I think I did die. Nothing’s working except my mouth. That’s the only part I didn’t fall on yesterday.” She tried to flex her fingers, which had spent three hours tightly clutched about her poles. Every movement brought a flash of agony through her thighs.

“Everything seemed to be working well last night,” Nick said teasingly, then changed his tone

when he saw that she truly was miserable. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Notify my parents where the funeral will be held,” she said, closing her eyes. Muscles were aching that she hadn’t even known she had.

“What you need is a good massage,” he told her, getting out of bed. She watched him throw a short robe over his nude body.

“What I need,” she said, “is a bullet to bite on—and never to see another ski as long as I live.” A cold wave of air tickled every part of her as Nick threw aside the covers. She heard him rubbing his hands, working liniment into them. Then she felt him lift her nightgown up to her shoulders.

The feel of his hands upon her back brought a bittersweet agony to her. “Relax,” he told her, “relax.” After a few minutes- of kneading, Shane’s moans of anguish subsided. “All better?” Nick asked.

“Well, it’s actually my legs that are unbearably sore.” She immediately realized her mistake.

Nick poured additional liniment all over her upper thighs and began to rub it in. He gently spread her legs apart.

“What are you doing?” she cried.

“You want me to be able to massage your entire leg and get you moving again, don’t you?” she heard him ask innocently

“Now I know why you like to give skiing lessons. It’s the day after you’re really interested in.”

“Not true,” Nick replied. “Let’s just say it’s the scenery I like,” he quipped. It took Shane a few seconds to catch his meaning, and then Nick had to duck a flying pillow. Shane moaned in pain.

“Serves you right,” he chided, getting back to his task.

While his hands worked away her soreness, Shane’s mind drifted off. The man was wonderful. How could she hope to maintain a relationship, much less a marriage, with a man who was even better than hearsay purported him to be? No, she’d be much better off not allowing herself the luxury of making plans for the future. If she just thought of this as a romantic interlude, maybe someday she could handle the emptiness that would surely come.

“Hey, are you falling asleep?”

Nick’s voice drifted into her stream of consciousness, and she shook her head, or tried to. “Oh,” she cried.

“What’s the matter?”

“My neck. ...”

“I’ll get to it,” he promised. “There’re just so many lovely details to keep me occupied below your neck,” he told her brightly, his fingers fanning out from the region just below her shoulder blades. His palms pressed on either side of her spine as his fingers reached out farther and farther, getting closer to the tender flesh of her breasts.

And then all she was aware of was the delicious sensation of his touch on her breasts. “It doesn’t hurt there,” she murmured, smiling.

“I want to keep everything in absolute tip-top shape,” he replied, “especially something I value so highly.”