TWICE VICTORIOUS (6 page)

He made a sound, but when she looked over at him, he waved her to
continue.

"Dad was diagnosed with cancer that fall, and went through some pretty miserable
radiation and chemotherapy. He was sick a lot, and we couldn't really afford to hire nurses
twenty-four hours a day. So I took care of him nights and weekends." She remembered
how it had been, with Dad doing his best not to be a burden, stubbornly insisting he could
do for himself, when she knew he was horribly nauseated most of the time.

"I really didn't mind. And it wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't been trying to
prove myself at work, too." Looking across at him again, she saw sympathy in his eyes,
and encouragement for her to continue her story. "Do you know anything about accounting
firms?"

He shook his head.

"They don't know the meaning of the forty-hour week. Not during tax season,
anyhow. After the first of the year, I started putting in fifty, sometimes sixty, hours a week.
By April fifteenth, I was a basket case." She could laugh about it now, but she never again
wanted to feel that lack of control, that emotional helplessness resulting from stress and
exhaustion. "Dad was a lot better, thank God! He went out and bought us bikes."

Adam stretched across and picked up the carafe. After she shook her head, he
refilled his cup. "Two?"

"One for him, one for me. He'd always wanted to do a bicycle tour of France, he
said. If he didn't do it then, he'd never do it." What a wonderful time they'd had, planning
their trip, reading the brochures they'd sent for. Riding every night, even when it rained.
"By fall we were in pretty good shape. We decided to go in June. I would take six weeks
off work, without pay if I had to, and we'd camp when the weather was good, hotel when it
wasn't."

Oh, how they'd enjoyed their planning that fall and winter. Even when tax season
started, she'd unwound by pouring over brochures with Dad, reading the books about
France he brought home from his weekly trips to the library.

"In April they found another tumor. They operated, but it was too late." She still
felt the pain of those awful six months. Dad had lingered until November, dying the day
before Thanksgiving. He encouraged her to keep riding, just for the stress relief, and it did
help, tremendously.

"It was Dad who entered me in my first race. I hadn't wanted to, but he convinced
me. That was in July, six years ago."

"Did you win?"

She'd almost forgotten him, lost in memories she usually kept at bay. "Win?" Her
laugh was shrill in her ears. "I didn't even finish the race. My back tire went flat on the last
lap."

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes. It was humiliating. I'd never failed at anything in my life. And Dad...."
She grimaced. "He laughed."

"I'll bet you were furious."

"I was livid! The next week I went out there determined to win, just to prove I
could." And for Dad, who'd believed she could do anything she wanted to, if she wanted
badly enough.

"And?"

"I came in third."

"That's not so bad."

"It is if there are only three people in the race."

She forgave his laughter. After so long, it was funny even to her.

"When did you quit Wilkins,
et cetera
?" Adam had found himself
admiring her as he listened, even though her suggestion that he wouldn't understand
because he hadn't competed had cut deeply. But she couldn't know, and he wasn't going to
tell her.

That was all behind him.

"Two years ago. They didn't approve of all the Fridays I took off to go to races,
even though I charged them against vacation time. Mr. Wilkins, the senior partner, thought
anyone who didn't want a two-week vacation every summer was a little strange." She
shook her head, and the light caught the bold silver hoops in her ears. Adam noticed again
how striking she was. "He also thought I shouldn't be giving so much of my time and
energy to anything besides my profession."

"Rick says you have a bookkeeping service now. Is your office here?" Certainly
this house looked big enough that she could devote an entire floor to her business if she
chose. He wondered if it was the family home, or if she'd bought it as an investment.

"Downstairs. With the basement opening into the back yard, I have a wonderful
view from my desk."

"What will you do when your business outgrows your house?" With the garage
taking up a fair portion of the lower story, there couldn't be more than a couple of rooms
down there.

"That's not likely. I barely have enough clients to keep me busy about half time.
And that suits me fine. I make enough to get by, and that's all I need."

"But don't you want to grow, to expand?" That she might not was
incomprehensible to him.

"I want to have time to train and freedom to go to whatever races I chose. That's
why I'm choosy about which clients I take on. Some businesses would be too demanding
of my time and energy."

The purple fabric of her jumpsuit clung to her small, high breasts as she reached
back to lift herself off the sofa. Adam's awareness of her as a woman, slowly and quietly
simmering ever since she'd opened the door, burst into full boil. When she winced as she
set her bad leg on the floor, he was beside her instantly. Again he pulled her against
himself, wanting once more the feel of her strength and suppleness in his arms and against
his body.

She resisted his embrace and he released her almost too soon for his body's
instinctive reaction. "Sorry," he muttered, but he wasn't. He wanted her next to him,
wanted to hold her, cherish her. "Are you all right?"

Stell heard his words in her ears and her memory. His voice had been familiar
since the first time he'd come to her house, but she'd discounted it, knowing how one's
mind played tricks after a concussion. "You were there! When I crashed."

"I was there." He pulled her closer, cupping her cheek with his free hand. "My
God, Stell, I've never been so scared in my life. You flew...and when you hit...the sound!
And then you slid." She heard pain and fear, more than friendly concern.

"You didn't even know me," she said, not understanding, but thrilled at his caring.
She'd been alone for so long.

"I'd been watching you." He lowered his face to hers, kissed her gently, the brush
of his lips as light as a butterfly's wings. "I hardly took my eyes off you, from the time
Rick first pointed you out." He touched the tip of her nose, still slightly tender, even
though the scab had fallen off. "When I saw the blood, afterwards...." His shudder was
eloquent. "And no one would tell me anything."

"But you kept asking." She knew he had, for she'd heard his voice, over and over,
seen his worry and fear for her in that out-of-time moment when her eyes had drifted to
meet his. "You cared."

Warmth flooded through her at his answering smile, tender and affectionate. She
hugged him, grateful for his friendship. The next few months were going to be tough, and
she needed all the friends she could get.

He responded, holding her closely, protectively, in his arms. Gradually Stell
became aware that his embrace was again becoming more than a simple hug.

She pulled away. "This is not a good idea."

"No," he admitted, reaching for her, pulling her close. "But it feels so good."

"It does, doesn't it?" She slipped her arms up his shoulders, around his neck.
"There's something between us, Adam. Something that scares me, even though I want to
see where it goes." Chewing her lip, she said, "I...I'm not good at things like this."

"Like what?" He stroked his fingertips along her spine, not forcing her closer, but
needing to soothe.

"Like this?" He kissed the tip of her nose.

"Or this?" He tasted her lower lip.

"How about this?" His hands cupped her bottom and he pulled her just close
enough to feel the evidence of her effect on him.

"Like dealing with the way I feel," she whispered, not resisting his hands, but not
cooperating either. "I should ask you to go away, to not distract me while I put my life
back together."

Adam stiffened, as if afraid of what he might hear.

And Stell cast caution and common sense to the winds. "Just this once, I don't feel
like being sensible." The last words she breathed against his mouth.

Adam tasted her sweetness, delighted in the warm velvet cavity into which his
tongue plunged. He shared the hunger in her, shared the yearning as her hands touched and
stroked and clung to his shoulders, his chest, his waist, even his buttocks.

He was lost. The kisses he'd had before were pale imitations. This was the real
thing. It lured. It demanded. It promised.

And what it promised might be hazardous to his peace of mind.

He forced his hands to quiet their frantic seeking, returned them gently to her
shoulders. Her mouth clung and would not set his free. "Nnnnn." The impatient sound
vibrated against his teeth, a demand for more.

"Wait, Stell," he said. "Please."

She stiffened in his arms. "Yes," she whispered. "Of course." Twisting her
shoulders, she tried to slip free of his loose embrace.

Although she wasn't looking at him, he sensed her distress. At him? Or at
herself?

She pushed against his chest. "Let me go."

"Not yet. I want you to understand."

"Understand? Oh, I understand. Perfectly." Her chin dropped and the steel in her
melted. "I couldn't keep my hands off of you, could I? I'm surprised you didn't run for your
life."

"Run? My God, woman, it's been all I could do to stay away from you!" Adam
pulled her hard against him. "Can't you tell how much I want you?"

The glow in his eyes changed, even as she watched, from warm friendship to hot
desire. "You're important to me, Stell." Tipping her chin up, he nibbled at her lips, willing
her to share his aching need. "Maybe more important than you should be."

Without waiting for an answer, he lowered his caressing hands to her bottom
again, boldly pulling her up against the ridge of his arousal.

Stell gasped with the power of her desire, as he took her mouth in a daring and
greedy kiss. Resistance never occurred to her. The hunger she'd been denying for days
filled her, making her want more than just a kiss, more than just the promise of his erection
against her belly.

When he sank onto the sofa, she gladly fell into his lap. As his hands explored her
back and midriff, she writhed, wanting to feel their strength on her breasts. Her nipples
tingled, ached, wanting to be nipped and suckled.

She tore at his shirt buttons, knowing that his skin would burn under her hands.
When her fingers found whorls of hair across his chest, they tangled themselves within, of
their own accord. The hard pebble of his nipple stopped her frantic explorations, and she
paused, to tease and tickle. His gasp told her how strong her effect was on him, but she had
only a moment to enjoy it, for his fingers found the swell of her breast just then. He toyed
with her nipple as she had with his, and her gasp was an echo.

"Stell... Stell... Stell, so perfect. Not too big. Just enough to fill my palm." He
laved her breast with a hot tongue.

She lay back in his clasp as his seeking mouth found the other breast, as his hand
explored along her midriff to her navel. She shuddered again when he shifted so that his
mouth could follow the electric trail blazed by his adventurous fingers.

"Ahhh, how I want you," he murmured against her abdomen as his mouth
explored still lower, following the zipper as it slowly opened to his pull. "I want to touch
you here...."

She trembled as he found the hot center of her, gave herself up to sensation as his
fingers stroked and rubbed. "Adam. Adam. Wait...."

But it was too late. Even as she spoke, an irresistible force gathered within her,
intensifying, building ever higher and stronger. He forced her to rise to it, guiding her with
deft touches and sweet caresses, until she found herself storm-tossed and tumbling, out of
control.

And washed ashore, finally, in his arms.

BLOCKING: getting in the way of riders
behind to slow them down; often done for a teammate's
advantage

She clawed her way back to sanity, wishing it had never happened. Glad it
had.

She didn't have time in her life right now for what Adam Vanderhook made her
feel.

But oh! How she wished she did.

"Adam we can't...."

His fingers softly against her lips silenced her. "I know. I knew, but I didn't want
to...couldn't stop." He buried his face against her neck. His arms held her loosely, but
protectively. Without demand.

"I feel so selfish," she murmured, enjoying the springiness of his hair under her
stroking fingers. "It was all so...so one-sided." At first her hands had been as seeking and
as demanding against his hard body as his had on hers, but when reality began to wobble,
she'd forgotten everything but her own needs.

She wanted to lead him to the same sweet release he'd given her. Slowly, her
limbs still heavy, as if she were swimming in a river of molasses, she ran her hands up his
chest to cup his face. He caught her fingers and brought them to his mouth, kissing one
after another until all ten had felt the wet touch of his tongue.

"Adam?"

"Hush," he said again. "I'm fine."

She knew he lied, for she could sense the subliminal vibration of his body as it
reacted to the tension of unslaked desire. His breathing was quick and heavy, as if he'd just
sprinted across a finish line.

Slowly she felt the tension leaving him. Eventually he released her and raised his
head. Deep lines around his mouth testified to the sacrifice he'd made in giving her
pleasure--ecstasy--without demanding the same for himself.

She felt relief. Her life was too complicated already, and he would be so easy to
love. She felt shame, for her relief.