“Coffee’s ready,” he announced, more to dodge further personal questions than for any other reason. “Want some?”
“Please.”
Sean fetched two cups of coffee and returned to the table, where Robyn had propped an elbow and rested her chin in the palm of her hand.
“Thank you for dinner. And for breakfast this morning. And for the short interlude at the bakery. And for saving me yesterday in the bar.” She gave a deep, dramatic sigh. “For someone I didn’t want to get to know, I’ve spent a lot of time with you.”
“I hope that’s not a bad thing.”
“It is when I should be hunting for an auction emcee and a job.”
The tinge of sadness in her voice pricked his heart. “Is it that hard to find a job in radio?”
“Not usually. The job turnover rate is high. But I’ve burned some bridges, and I think my ex-boss may have blackballed me.”
His stomach tightened like he’d been punched. “Why?”
She hesitated, cut a bite of torte and took her time chewing it. “We used to date back when he was nothing more than a night DJ at the radio station where I worked. Then his dad died, leaving him a lot of shares in the company that owns the station. Damon used his newfound influence to take the most coveted radio spot and to land a regular segment on a Chicago morning show. The size of his ego quadrupled, and we broke up.”
He read between the lines there. Damon’s newfound fame had opened the door for a lot of hot women, and he’d dumped Robyn to let them in. What an idiot. “So what happened to your job?”
“We worked well together despite the breakup until recently, when he needed a no-strings date for media functions. I did it because he promised to emcee the reunion charity auction, but at the last minute he backed out. When I discovered he lied about the reason for canceling, I lost my temper and quit my job.”
“And he retaliated by blackballing you.” That son of a bitch. Sean should have trusted his instincts when he’d first met the man.
“I think so. I’ve been calling all my contacts, and they say there are no jobs open. Not even entry-level positions. And I’m willing to take anything at this point.”
The conversation with Damon in which he’d asked Sean to keep Robyn busy in return for giving her a job flashed in his head, and though guilt tore through him at the thought that he was conspiring with the enemy, at least he had an opportunity to make sure Robyn found work.
She covered his hand with her dainty one, and warmth washed over him. “Anyway, I’m sorry I’m such a downer. It’s dumb and not your problem.”
He shook his head. “It’s not dumb, and I want it to be my problem. Can I fix your problem with another slice of torte?”
She laughed, and all traces of sadness dissipated. “Only if you want me groaning and writhing on the floor.”
Oh, he wanted her to writhe, and on the floor was fine, as long as she was beneath him. But he wanted her moaning, not groaning.
She studied him over the rim of her coffee cup as she took a sip. “So,” she said, putting down the cup, “why did you become an EMT? Was it a childhood dream or something?”
He toyed with her fingers and shook his head. “My childhood dream was to win gold in the Olympics. When those days ended, I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving skiing for good, so I became a patroller, and crazily enough, I got a kick out of the medical side of it, so I became an EMT.” He brought her hand to his mouth, where he kissed the pulse point in her wrist. “It also gives me something to do in the summer or I’d go stir crazy.”
“So I’m guessing money isn’t an issue.” He liked that she sounded slightly breathless when she spoke.
“Not so much.”
Not at all. He had enough saved up from public appearances, product endorsements and TV gigs that he didn’t have to work another day in his life. Patrolling and emergency medicine had never been about the money, but about keeping himself busy so he didn’t think about all he’d lost.
And the sports announcer job was about regaining a portion of what he’d lost. And speaking of taking back what he’d lost…
“C’mon,” he said, standing. “I rented a couple of movies. Do you like James Bond?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
Damn, this woman could grow on him. He took her hand and led her to the living room, but before they made it to the couch, she stopped and gave him an apologetic look. “Where did you say the bathroom was?”
“Upstairs and to the left.”
“Thanks.” She disappeared up the stairs, her fine backside swinging provocatively.
He popped a movie into the DVD player and added a couple of logs to the fire in the wood stove. He didn’t have a plan of attack, but he did know he wanted to win Robyn over, make her forget about his very public past. Strangely enough, this was no longer about getting laid just to push past his insecurities.
Well, it was about that, but it was also about just being with her. He actually liked her. That she wanted to talk about anything but the one subject women always wanted to discuss—his skiing success—was strangely refreshing. As was the fact that he’d been forced to pursue her, something he’d never really done. The chase had been fun, a burning challenge he welcomed because he hadn’t been challenged by anything in a long, long time, and suddenly now there was life at the end of the tunnel.
He dimmed the lights and looked up as Robyn started down the stairs.
As always, the sight of her took away his breath and left him feeling like he needed a hit of oxygen from his medic kit. This time, though, he had a hard time catching it again. Her legs, encased in dark denim, seemed to go on forever, from her stockinged feet all the way up to her generous hips. Her fuzzy blue sweater hid her waist, which he knew to be perfectly made for his hands. His gaze traveled up, lingered on her full breasts he was sure would be just as suited for his touch.
And her neck…long, delicate, with a pulse beneath the creamy skin that picked up in tempo as he stared. She halted on the bottom step, putting her at eye level with him and just a foot away. The air moving between those twelve inches sizzled.
“You started the movie,” she said in a husky voice that settled low and deep in his belly.
“Can’t get much by you.”
She swallowed and licked her lips, and damn if he didn’t get hard right then and there. “Sean Connery. He’s my favorite.”
“Mine too.”
Her green eyes darkened. “He’s so sexy.”
Tension coiled inside him, and he took a step closer so they were almost touching. “Not my type.”
She nodded, and her gaze dropped to his mouth. “His lips…tempting.”
She didn’t know what tempting was. Tempting was a beautiful woman standing a mere inch away, her sweet fragrance tickling his nostrils. Tempting was the way her breasts rose and fell with her rapidly increasing breaths.
He was tired of being tempted. He wanted to take. He framed her face in his hands and stroked his thumb over the silky skin of her cheeks. A low moan sounded deep in Robyn’s chest and she closed her eyes, for once not protesting his touch. He leaned in until he could feel her breath, warm and damp, on his skin, could almost taste the building storm of anticipation that roiled between them.
Unable to wait any longer, he pressed his lips to hers, which parted for him and ensured that any control he had left sped away like skis after a bad fall.
The taste of her, mint and chocolate and sin, nearly brought him to his knees. Cupping the back of her head with one hand, he pulled her closer to feel the soft curves of her body against his chest, his stomach, his groin.
Her soft, questing hands slipped beneath his sweatshirt and spread wide on his back, caressing and kneading, and then dropping to his buttocks. She squeezed so that her short, strong nails dug into his ass cheeks, wringing a ragged groan from him.
Her tongue curved against his, sucking lightly and thrusting deep, matching his passion stroke for stroke. Desperate to stoke
that passion even higher, hotter, he ran a hand down her side and then back up until his thumb met the underside of her breast. He smoothed his fingers along the line of her bra, and when he gently squeezed her breast, she gasped.
The sound pulsed through him with a buzz he’d like to blame on the wine, but he knew better. Robyn was more potent than any alcohol, more addictive, for sure.
His palm drifted down her trim waist, along her softly rounded hip to her thigh, which he then lifted to his waist. He brought her other leg up as well, so that her long limbs were wrapped around his torso, her arms around his neck. Now to get her into this same position while being horizontal…
Sean took a step back, intent upon settling on the couch. His calf struck something soft—something that meowed indignantly, and he suddenly had to catch his balance. He barely avoided stepping on Norbert as he stumbled to the wall next to the stairs. Holding Robyn with one arm, he extended the other to keep her back from slamming against the wall.
“Sorry,” he muttered, wincing. Smooth, Trenton. Real smooth. James Bond he was not.
Robyn tightened her legs around his waist and kissed a path from his mouth to his ear, where she teased the lobe with a gentle suck. “Just keep kissing me. Please.”
As if she’d needed to beg. Sandwiching her between his body and the wall, he took her mouth with renewed enthusiasm as her fingers stabbed through his hair and her tongue met his with eager velvet strokes.
His erection nudged the junction between her legs, and she whimpered, ground against it, searing him from the inside out. Her heat cradled his cock and his brain fogged, and all he could do was ride the motion with her until they were both panting and he’d forgotten why sex had ever become an issue for him.
“Sean…mmm, yes, keep doing that—” She broke off to kiss him deeply, fiercely.
Crushing her more firmly against the wall, he freed his hands to support her weight around his waist, though he probably didn’t need to. She glommed onto him with strong, tightly clenched thighs, her movements as frenzied as his own.
His skin tightened and burned beneath her fingers until the soft cotton of his clothing felt like torture. He tore off his sweatshirt and her sweater, frantic to feel hot flesh on hot flesh. When he looked down at her, at how her pale skin contrasted with the black satin bra, his heart thundered in his chest as though trying to get closer to hers. He wasn’t sure he could get close enough.
She arched in invitation, and with one deft flick of his fingers, the front clasp of the bra clicked open, allowing him full access to her lightly freckled, full breasts.
His breath caught when he looked into her face and saw her eyes, slumberous and smoldering, watching him. “Touch me, Sean.”
“Yes.” His voice sounded coarse and foreign, reminding him how long it had been since he’d been with a woman.
Greedy hope surged through his veins, urging him on. He dipped his head, brought his mouth down on her swollen lips.
Her skin scorched his palm as he cupped a breast and skimmed his thumb over a pebbled nipple. A low moan deep in her chest told him what he’d just done to her, and the increased rhythmic speed of the thrust of her hips told him how excited she was. He knew the feeling, because he himself was at the very brink.
God, this was real. He was really going to do it. He was going to lick every inch of her body and then bury himself in her slick, hot heat.
He kept kissing her, this exquisite, sexy woman who pushed all his buttons, who smelled of vanilla and berries and her own special scent that drove him mad. He wanted to drive her mad too, wanted to see her come apart in his arms.
Dropping his hands, he lifted her buttocks, tilting her more fully against his cock as he thrust between her legs in slow, easy motions. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his thighs quivered. He’d have to stop this or lose it, but it felt so good, so natural to be here with her like this.
“There,” she moaned against his lips. “Oh, God, there.”
She threw her head back against the wall and shuddered, cried out his name as she came. Nothing had ever sounded so wonderful, looked so beautiful as Robyn Montgomery in her release, and he wanted to make it happen again and again.
Her eyes fluttered open and he met her gaze, seeing a haze of passion that took his breath away. “Take me upstairs,” she whispered.
Her legs slid down his until she was on her feet, swaying slightly. She shrugged out of the bra that had been hanging off her shoulders and closed the narrow gap between them. It was erotic as hell, the way she stood there, naked from the waist up, and it only became more so when she trailed her hands down his heaving, damp chest, over his stomach, and to the waistband of his jeans. She pressed a pattern of kisses along his throat and down his shoulder as she worked the button and unzipped his fly.
The first stirrings of panic wrapped around him as she reached into his boxers and took his cock in her palm. It’s okay, it’s okay, he told himself over and over, but still, he grabbed her wrist as if to stop her mind-blowing caress. Undeterred, she kept working him, her warm hand squeezing and moving in precise, firm strokes, holding him captive. He couldn’t move a muscle, and wasn’t sure if he wanted to.
Even his throat muscles had frozen, because when he tried to speak, it came out as more of a raspy croak. “Robyn, stop, or we won’t make it upstairs.”
A wicked smile curved her lips, and she didn’t stop. “I don’t need a bed.” Her other hand joined the first, one rubbing, stroking until he thought he’d die.
Pleasure pulsed upward under her skilled fingers, and he looked down to see a bead of precome form at the tip of his penis. He was close, so close his legs had become rubbery and he had to grasp her shoulders for balance. Still smiling, she drew her thumb over the drop of moisture and used the pad of one finger to spread it around the glans.
The slippery friction was magic, beyond anything he could have hoped for tonight. His fingers dug into Robyn’s shoulders as one of her hands pumped him to the very edge, and the other eased lower, lower, down to—
“No,” he said gruffly. “Stop.” He jerked her hand away from him and stepped back, panting, his hands shaking. He suddenly felt like the crazy person she’d already accused him of being.
She blinked, her eyes unfocused and confused. “I’m sorry. I, um…Sean, what’s wrong?”
Oh, hell. What’s wrong? He’d just blown his shot at getting laid tonight, that’s what. Even worse, he’d probably screwed up his chances of building some kind of relationship with Robyn.
His heart seized. When, exactly, had a relationship become a goal? Damn, but he was an idiot. This was about sex. It was about getting off. End of story.
And he still managed to mess it up. The one thing besides skiing and emergency medicine he’d ever been good at.
“I’m sorry.” He zipped up, but he couldn’t look her in the eye. He could barely look in her direction. “I’m, uh, shy.”
“You honestly expect me to believe that?”
“It would be helpful.”
He glanced over at her, and instantly wished he hadn’t. She gave him a hard stare that told him she wasn’t going to fall for any lines or be distracted by humor. He blew out a breath. “Look, it’s my fault. It’s me, not you.”
She wrapped her arms around herself as if she were cold, but he suspected she was covering her breasts, feeling exposed and embarrassed. “It isn’t me,” she murmured. “Guys always say that when they dump you. ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ What does that mean?”
Guilt plowed over Sean like a runaway snow groomer. He knew exactly what she was talking about. He’d used that line on women in the past. What did it mean? Thanks for the good time, babe, but I’ve gotten my fill of you, and I’m moving on to untracked snow.
But that wasn’t the case in this situation, and somehow he had to convince her.
“Robyn, I’m not trying to ditch you.” He took her hand, started to lead her to the couch, but she dug in her heels and shook her head.
“Take me home.” She snatched her hand from his to gather her bra and sweater. “To the lodge.”
“Not until we talk about this. I need to explain.” Not that he knew what to say. He only knew the truth wasn’t an option.
She turned away from him and pulled her sweater over her head. “I don’t want to hear it.” The silence grew thick while she smoothed her sweater several times before turning back to him and shoving the bra into her jeans’ pocket. “Just drive me back.”
“Robyn—”
“Now.”
She stalked to her boots and jammed her feet into them without giving him another look. He just stared as she shrugged into her coat and waited, tapping one booted foot and gazing at the ceiling.
Finally, with a sigh, he put on his boots and coat and grabbed his keys.
And he’d thought the date so many months ago with Jenny had ended badly.
Chapter Seven
“Men suck.”
Karen put down her peppermint-schnapps-spiked hot cocoa and cocked a blonde eyebrow at Robyn’s profound observation. “You could make a killing if you put that on a bumper sticker.” A candy cane stir stick hung on the inside edge of her cup, and she absently swirled it through the drink, her expression growing serious. “So you guys didn’t say a word on the drive back to the lodge? Nothing?”
“Nada.”
As they’d driven along dark mountain roads, she’d thought Sean was going to speak once when he took a deep breath and his hands tightened on the steering wheel. But eventually he relaxed and pressed his lips together, letting the silence grow even louder with the echoes of what he didn’t say.
Not even music had played on his state-of-the-art stereo system that seemed so out of place in the ancient SUV.
She blew steam off the surface of her coffee and cast a glance out of BrewSki restaurant’s large front window overlooking the mountain’s western face. The runs were crowded, too crowded for her taste. The ski competition had the resort hopping, which had been more than enough of an excuse to take a lunch break from skiing. Well, it was a break for Karen, but Robyn had to head out soon. Her mother wanted her help at the bakery.