Читать книгу Snow Baby - Бренда Новак - Страница 12

IT WAS THE SILENCE that woke him.

Dillon blinked and raised his head to listen. The wind had died. What time was it? Difficult to tell. The snow piled on top of the truck kept the inside dark, but he’d bet it was morning.

He shifted slightly, trying not to wake Chantel as he let some of the blood flow back into the arm she was sleeping on. It had been quite a night! He grinned, remembering Chantel’s first warm willing response and the times he’d made love to her since. Sometimes she was a little shy and reserved, sometimes she played the temptress. But the crazy thing was that he couldn’t get enough of her. Even now, just looking at her face, sweet and passive in sleep, he wanted to wake her and lose himself in her arms again.

“Is the storm over yet?” she asked, her eyelids fluttering open, despite Dillon’s decision to let her sleep.

“I think so.”

“Darn.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “What does that mean?”

“They’ll be coming for us.”

“Isn’t that what we want?”

Her large eyes gazed up at him, and he caught his breath. Was it possible to fall in love in only one night?

“I don’t want reality to intrude,” she complained. Then she sighed. “I have to go see my sister. You have your friends waiting for you.” Her silky limbs wrapped around him again, and she kissed his neck. “Mmm, I guess we got a little sweaty last night. You taste salty.”

He laughed. “We got a lot sweaty, among other things.”

“It was incredible, wasn’t it?”

“Good enough that you won’t forget me before we get home?”

“How could I forget the man who saved my life?”

“Hey, that’s right! Doesn’t that make you my slave or something?”

“No!” She tried to wriggle away, but he restrained her.

“Come on, slave, I’m getting hungry for more of you…”

She groaned. “You’re insatiable! Not again! I’m tired.” Running her fingers up and down his spine, she massaged the stiff muscles in his back, then pulled him down for a long searching kiss.

Dillon savored the taste of her, wishing they were at his place so they could get up and take a hot shower together and eat something. “If we were home, I’d make you breakfast in bed,” he told her.

“Where’s home?”

“Lafayette.”

“We live that close to each other?”

He ran a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. “Yep. And then, after breakfast, I’d get you in the tub and lather your hair and massage your scalp and lick water off the tips of your breasts…”

“Hmm…maybe I’m not as tired as I thought,” she said, but before Dillon could take her up on the invitation, they heard some kind of heavy machinery moving toward them.

Chantel groaned. “A snowplow. They’re here, aren’t they?”

Dillon listened to the noise get louder and louder as the plow made its way through the heavy snow. “That’s my guess.”

She sighed and studied him, looking somber for the first time that morning. “I haven’t thanked you for coming back for me, Dillon. Who knows how long I would’ve had to wait before the police found me? I couldn’t even give them good directions. What you did was so brave.”

He wiggled his brows to make her laugh again. “And I’ve been handsomely rewarded.”

“Roll over and let me hold you,” she said. “Just until they get here.”

He obeyed, and she curved her body, spoon-fashion, along the back of his.

“What are we going to do about clothes?” she asked, the noise of the plow nearly drowning out her voice. “I don’t like the idea of being caught in such a vulnerable position.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get out and take care of everything. You can stay modestly covered back here.”

“Thanks, Dillon.”

“Chantel?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Can I call you when we get home?” he asked, half-afraid she’d refuse him for some reason only she knew.

But a yes sounded in his ear, and he smiled and pulled her arms more tightly around him.

CHANTEL DREW a deep breath and stared up at the A-frame log cabin that corresponded to the address on the directions Stacy had given her—and wished she was still with Dillon. After all the highs and lows of the past night, she felt physically and emotionally spent. The last thing she wanted to do right now was face her sister.

If only she hadn’t given her word and could simply head back home—

“Omigosh, Chantel, what happened to you?” Stacy appeared in the doorway and frowned at the damaged Jaguar. “Now your car doesn’t look any better than my Honda.”

Chantel gave her a tired grin, feeling awkward and unsure of how to greet her sister. Should she rush over and hug Stacy as though they hadn’t been estranged for ten years? Just smile and wave “hello”?

Remembering her sister’s cold response the first time Chantel had contacted her—when she’d just returned from New York and had blubbered her way through a painful apology—she opted for the smile and jammed her hands in her pockets. “Would you believe I got stuck in the storm last night and had to wait for the police to bring a tow and get me out?”

“Are you kidding? Why didn’t you call me?”

I’ve been worried. For a split second, Chantel hoped to hear those words, but Stacy didn’t add them. “I drove off without the phone number.” She chuckled, feeling her palms start to sweat and wishing, more than ever, that she could climb back in her car and drive away.

“Are you okay?”

I’ve been worried.

Again the words didn’t come. Chantel clenched her fists in the pockets of her baggy jeans. Her sister would never say anything that indicated that she still cared. Why hope?

“I think I’ll be better after I shower and have something to eat. Tell me this place has hot water.”

“It does. Everyone else left to go skiing, so the bathrooms are free.”

“Oh! I’m sorry if waiting for me made you miss the fun.”

Stacy paused halfway between the door and the Jaguar. “No, actually I’m expecting someone else. He’ll be here anytime.”

Chantel felt a blush heat her cheeks. What had she been thinking? She forced a smile. “So you’ve met a guy, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“You never mentioned him on the phone.”

“There wasn’t any reason to go into it. I told you I was inviting a few friends, and I did.”

“Well, tell me about him,” Chantel said, trying to act like any normal sister would. Besides Stacy’s father, who lived a hermit’s life somewhere in New Mexico, they had no family left. Whether either of them wanted to admit it or not, they needed each other.

Stacy shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

“Where did you meet?”

“At the hospital. We’ve known each other for a couple of years.”

“He’s a doctor?”

“No, he was there for a meeting with one of the doctors. He was handling the majority of the tenant improvements for the medical building next door.”

“And you really like him?”

For a moment Stacy’s hard shell cracked and she gave Chantel a genuine smile. “Like him! You should see him! I’ve never been so head over heels in love. I’m going to marry this one or die trying.”

Chantel laughed. “Wow. He must be something. I can’t wait to meet him.”

The shadow of old pain fell across Stacy’s face, making Chantel regret the simple offhand remark. “Stacy—”

“I know. You’d better have that shower,” she said briskly. “Let’s take your stuff inside.”

Trying to remember the warmth and approval she’d felt with Dillon, Chantel focused on his parting kiss and his promise to call her as soon as she arrived home.

She could do this. She was only staying in Tahoe till Sunday, and thinking of Dillon would get her through the weekend.

Thinking of Dillon could get her through anything.

HAD STACY’S BOYFRIEND arrived? Chantel stepped out of the shower and listened for voices in the living room as she pulled on the jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt she’d had her sister toss in the dryer, but heard nothing beyond the distant drone of the television.

“Stace?” she called out.

A light step sounded in the hall, and her sister poked her head into the bedroom just as Chantel began to work the snarls out of her long hair. “You done?”

“Yeah. It felt great. Is your friend here?”

“Not yet. He called to say he stopped off for a late breakfast. He’ll be here any minute.”

Chantel smiled at her sister’s barely concealed excitement. “You still want to get married, Stace?”

“If I want kids, I don’t have a lot of time to waste. I’m already thirty-two.” She fingered Chantel’s expensive leather luggage.

“That’s only three years older than me.” Only, I don’t have to worry about getting married…or having kids. Instinctively Chantel pressed a hand to her stomach. The ultimate price. She wondered if Stacy would more easily forgive her if she knew, then rejected the idea. She wouldn’t play on her sister’s sympathy. That was cowardly. She’d gotten what she deserved. Wasn’t that what Wade had said the last time she’d seen him?

For once in his life he’d been right.

“After age thirty, three years counts for a lot,” Stacy said, plopping down on the bed while Chantel applied lotion to her face.

“While the rest of us were dreaming of having careers, you always wanted to marry and settle down,” Chantel murmured.

“Ever since I graduated from high school, but all too often I made the mistake of bringing them home. Then they’d see you.”

And what had stopped her from finding a husband during the past ten years, while Chantel was in New York?

Chantel stifled the defensive retort. She didn’t want to start a fight. She was here to rebuild her relationship with Stacy, not destroy it. “I’m sorry, Stace. I can’t understand why anyone would rather be with me than you.”

Her sister sighed. “Look in the mirror, Chantel. That explains everything.”

Chantel gazed into the mirror that contrasted her tall lean form with her sister’s short slightly stocky build, her light eyes with her sister’s chocolate-colored irises.

“We’re as opposite as night and day, aren’t we?” Stacy said.

“My father was tall and blond, yours short and dark. Mother loved them both. We didn’t get to place an order. I certainly never asked to be six feet tall.”

“And I never asked for saddlebags. Them’s the breaks, I guess.”

Chantel glanced at her sister’s curvy figure. “You don’t have saddlebags. I’ve always wanted to be petite, like you.”

A knock from the front of the cabin interrupted them, and Stacy jumped to her feet. “He’s here!”

Waving her out of the room, Chantel said, “You go enjoy him. I’m pretty tired after last night. I think I’ll lie down for a while. Which bunk is mine?”

There were two unmade beds and two that hadn’t been touched. “Take your pick of those,” Stacy said, already on her way out. At the door she turned back. “On second thought, why don’t you meet him before your nap? We may as well get it over with.”

Chantel cringed at the tone of Stacy’s voice. She sounded as if she’d rather have root-canal work than introduce her sister to her boyfriend, but Chantel threw her shoulders back and took a deep breath.

Stacy was in love. It was time to meet her sister’s Mr. Right—and to let him know he’d better not so much as throw a friendly smile in her direction.

Following her sister, she headed into the small cluttered living room, filled with a half-dozen pieces of mismatched furniture surrounding a black fireplace insert. Through the front window overlooking the drive, she caught a glimpse of a white sports utility vehicle. But the sight struck no chord in her until Stacy opened the door, and she saw Dillon Broderick standing on the front porch.