Читать книгу Something to Prove - Cathryn Parry - Страница 11

CHAPTER THREE

AMANDA FINISHED THE EMAIL to her editor, attached the document containing Brody’s five-hundred-word profile, and then pressed Send. The internet connection was slow, so it took a few moments for her email to go through.

Message sent, her laptop screen finally displayed.

She let out a breath and slumped across her keyboard, head in hands. She’d written and edited the piece as if she were in a fever. With every sentence she typed, it became clearer Brody was under her skin, which was confusing. She’d never behaved this way over any interview subject. She felt like a crush-ridden schoolgirl.

She pushed away from the desk and immediately saw Jeannie’s wedding dress hanging on the closet door. Her sister’s wedding tomorrow had to be playing its part in wreaking havoc with her good sense. Just the idea of couples being paired up for tonight’s party had surely put Brody on her mind where he shouldn’t be. The fact that he was a skier—and one of her father’s former skiers at that—should have been dampening her obviously confused libido.

She stood and walked over to lean her hot forehead against the cool glass of the hotel window. Three stories below, a small group of Jeannie’s and Massimo’s friends from the ski tour trickled in and out of the courtyard lounge with drinks in hand. The rehearsal luncheon was finished, and now they looked to be gathering for the evening cocktail reception. Couples would be buzzed, chatty and amorous. Did she really want to meet Massimo’s and Jeannie’s fix-up for her in the state she was in?

I’d rather meet Brody, a rogue voice in her head said.

Stupid voice. Brody was the subject of her work. Her future. That was something she could never risk.

She rose and circled the room, glancing at Jeannie’s clothes spread over one bed and her own papers, briefcase and notes across the other. Practical, the way she needed to be. If she thought rationally, she knew this pull toward Brody wasn’t an attraction of the heart, on either of their parts. Her reaction to him was one-hundred-percent physical, and that was all. She would never invest time in a relationship with him, or he with her, especially once he found out who her father was.

And he would find out. Her background, including her father’s connection to the American ski racers, would be detailed in a boxed blurb below her byline. When Brody saw it, he would never want to see her again.

Her cell phone rang. Brody, was her first thought. Which was crazy. He was leaving in the morning, why would he want to see her again?

Besides, he didn’t have her phone number. His agent was the one she’d confirmed the appointment with, after her editor had set up their meeting.

No, the call was more likely from Jeannie. Amanda leaned over and picked up the phone, checking the caller ID as she did so.

Yes, it was Jeannie, calling on Massimo’s phone.

“I’ll be right down,” she said into the receiver, her heart dropping despite her best intentions to the contrary. “I just sent the profile to Chelsea, so all that’s left is to change my clothes, okay, sweetie?”

“Hi, Amanda!” Jeannie’s voice was tipsy, as if she’d drunk a glass or two of wine at her luncheon party. Loud, happy laughter sounded in the background, intermingled with festive piano music. “How did it go with the interview? I’ve been dying to hear.”

“It went…well.” She settled onto Jeannie’s bed, kicking off the heels and drawing her knees to her chin. To keep her hands busy, she picked up one of Jeannie’s old sweaters and brought it to her nose. It smelled like her baby sister. “Really well.”

“He talked to you?” Jeannie sounded breathless.

“Even more than I’d hoped for. He opened up to me, Jeannie.”

“Oh, my God, you like him, don’t you?”

Like in Jeannie’s vocabulary meant want to hook up with. Which was the last impression Amanda wanted to give her matchmaker sister. “Don’t even say that,” she chided. “We have a professional relationship. Are you trying to get me in trouble?”

“Hold on a sec, Massimo wants to listen in. I need to move someplace quiet so we can both hear you, okay?”

Amanda found herself smiling even as she shook her head. Jeannie and Massimo were so sweet together. She’d landed in Italy a week ago feeling exhausted and weepy, still so frustrated over fighting her mom’s illness and furious over her father’s lack of caring. But Jeannie and Massimo had made her smile again. Amanda had never blamed her little sister for being unable to visit Mom when she’d been sick—those days, Jeannie had been too often hospitalized herself. They’d talked by computer video connection almost every day, though, and Amanda had frequently thanked God for Massimo. This week, especially, he’d brought them around to his big, extended family, fed them pumpkin-filled pasta and goblets of Prosecco, shown her his and Jeannie’s new village apartment, and talked incessantly about their future together.

“You should call him, Amanda.” The line was calmer now, just Jeannie’s voice with no background cocktail chatter. “Since your work is finished, bring Brody down to the party. Everybody else is here, it’s only polite.”

It would be disastrous, only partly because Amanda hadn’t told Brody who she really was. But her sister just wanted to help her.

“And to think, a few hours ago you were setting me up with Massimo’s friend,” she teased.

“Marco? How can I fix you up with Marco when you’re interested in Brody?”

Massimo’s assenting murmur came through in the background.

Amanda poked at her one pedicured foot. The truly ridiculous part was, Jeannie and Massimo had bugged out of their own party to huddle over a mobile phone, plotting Amanda’s potential hook-up. “Have you two thought of starting a dating service? Because you’d be really good at it.”

“You have his number, right? Or do you need me to get it from Massimo? He has it right here.” Another murmur of agreement.

Amanda crushed Jeannie’s sweater closer. It was apparent Jeannie and Massimo weren’t going to let this one go. “Actually, Jeannie,” she admitted, “there is a small problem. Brody doesn’t know who my father is.”

“You didn’t tell him?” Jeannie fell silent. Because, as a consequence, Amanda had also hidden the fact that Jeannie was her sister.

Jeannie’s hurt radiated across the phone line, even without speaking.

“You need to talk to Brody and tell him who you are,” Jeannie said quietly, “because Dad just called me, and he’s on his way over.”

Amanda’s palm slipped on the silicone sleeve of her phone, nearly dropping it. Dad was coming here?

“Amanda? What’s going on?”

Cold beads of panic broke across her forehead. I don’t want to see him just yet. I can’t see him just yet.

She wasn’t prepared. Hadn’t thought this far ahead, because she hadn’t wanted to think this far ahead.

Amanda stood and paced the carpet. How could she explain the situation to her sister? It wasn’t fair to drag Jeannie into her problems. Above all, this was Jeannie’s big day, and it wasn’t Amanda’s place to ruin it. If anything, the bastard owed Jeannie an appearance on the night before her wedding, especially after causing her accident.

“I’m…sorry I couldn’t tell Brody who you are to me,” Amanda said. “He…quizzed me about my last name. Dad must have left a horrible taste in his mouth, because I could tell that if he knew who I was, he was going to shut down. And I couldn’t have that, Jeannie. Above all, I couldn’t have that.”

Her voice sounded pleading, and she felt ashamed of herself. If Jeannie hung up on her, she wouldn’t blame her.

“I understand,” Jeannie said firmly. “What you need to do is call Brody. Meet with him, tell him the truth, and then give him a chance to react. Afterward, you and I will get together and talk.”

No, they wouldn’t. This whole situation was too embarrassing to discuss with anyone.

Still, Jeannie was giving her a perfect excuse to skip the close encounter with their father.

“Are you sure you won’t mind if I miss your party?” Amanda asked. “How’s the dessert bar? Do they have the lemon cake and biscotti you wanted?”

“They do. Massimo’s mother smoothed the way between the pastry chef and the restaurant manager. It worked out perfectly.”

“I should have been there. I’m a horrible sister.”

“You’re the best sister ever. You deserve all good things. And right now, you deserve time on your own, without us. You’ve been smothered by me and the Coletti clan all week, now that I think of it.”

“I haven’t. They’re so adorable, they make me want to cry.”

“I’ll see you when I get back to the room tonight, okay? Call him, Mandy. Please.”

She murmured her assent, knowing full well she wouldn’t follow through. Jeannie disconnected the call.

Lovely. Now, in addition to skipping out on her sister, she was also lying to her. Because no matter what Jeannie said, or what Amanda had agreed to, there was no way she could call Brody. Her job was simply too important to risk.

On the other hand, there was no way she could face Dad tonight either, and of all the minefields she needed to avoid this evening, that one was the most important.

Her phone beeped, letting her know she had a text. It was from Chelsea, her traditionally terse, “Got it.” Not a phone call, not a make-these-changes-now directive.

From experience, Amanda knew that meant she approved of the profile. As of this moment, her assignment was officially over.

Amanda flopped back on Jeannie’s bed and let out her breath with a whoosh. At last, some good news. After all the hassles of the day, all the worry about the layoffs at work and coming face to face with her father, now she had one less thing to stress about. Maybe she should call room service and order champagne so she could celebrate her one small victory in private.

Closing her eyes, she dared to let herself remember the low, sexy timbre of Brody’s voice, his interview responses that she’d played over and over as she’d drafted her article. When she thought of him, she felt as warm and comfortable as when she’d held Jeannie’s familiar sweater.

She was on vacation now. No one from her office was present. Who would ever know or care if she did call Brody Jones?

Forget the champagne—what if she arranged a short drink with him in the hotel lounge, at the other end of the resort from her sister’s pre-wedding party, just to get her through the night and away from her father?

Rolling onto her side, she scrolled through her contact list before she could talk herself out of it. H for Harrison, his agent’s name…

The house phone rang insistently beside her, that jolting, Italian ring tone she still wasn’t used to.

The front-desk clerks were the only people who’d ever called them on this phone. She tucked the receiver between her ear and her shoulder. “Hi,” she said to the staff member before he could launch into his business, “are you serving drinks at the lounge yet, or do I have to go to the restaurant to get served?”

A familiar laugh sounded, deep and rich. “I take it you’re finished with work,” Brody said. “Good, I was hoping that was out of the way.”

“Brody…I…hi…” A speechless reporter, wasn’t that nice?

“Amanda.” The quiet way he said her name calmed her pulse. Oh, yes, she definitely wanted to see him again. “Are you busy with the wedding, or do you have time to meet?” he asked.

She wrapped the phone cord around her finger. Obviously, they were on the same wavelength. This had to be a sign, didn’t it? “I just turned my profile in to the magazine, so, yeah, I’m free. And no, I don’t have any wedding things planned either.” She licked her dry lips. “Um, why? What did you have in mind?”

“I want to go skiing with you.”

Skiing? The word hit her like a knock to the gut. “What?”

“I, ah, need to get away for a while and just…forget about things.” His voice was low, as though he wanted to keep the conversation quiet. “I was hoping you’d join me.”

“On the mountain? In the snow?”

“Yeah. Do you have skis with you?”

She blinked, her fingers clutching the telephone receiver, pressing the cold plastic to her ear. “No, Brody,” she managed to say, “I did not fly ski equipment with me to Italy to be a bridesmaid in my best friend’s wedding.”

“Okay, then I’ll rent you a pair.”

Over her dead body. “You are out of your mind, do you know that?”

“You’ve been talking to my agent, I see.”

He thought this was funny? “Brody, you don’t understand,” she said, her voice shaking. “I can’t ski. I’m a lousy skier, in fact. And you professionals aren’t known for your patience, or your restraint.”

“Are you afraid of me, Amanda?” His voice was shocked.

“No, I’m not afraid of you, I’m just not cut out for your sport, is all. Trust me on this.”

“If it helps, the slope I’m thinking about has an old-fashioned chairlift like they used to have in Deanfield. We’d be up there for the last hour before they close, so I doubt there’ll be many people around.” He paused. “I promise to take it easy on you. I won’t let you fall.”

He didn’t get it. And her voice wouldn’t work to tell him so. Her brain wouldn’t work to tell him so. “Why can’t we stay at the hotel and have a drink together like normal people?”

“You think I’m normal?” He laughed. “Thanks, I’ll remember that. Look, there’s something on the mountain I’d really like you to see. I’ll carry you up there if you’d rather avoid the skiing part.”

Despite herself, she smiled. Carry her up there, huh? Yeah, she was a sucker for guys with warped senses of humor. Though he’d never get her anywhere near a ski-rental shop.

“So what do you say, Manda? Will you come and be a kid again with me for a couple of hours before we both have to leave?”

BRODY LEANED AGAINST THE Italianate marble fountain that stood in the rear of the main lobby. The crashing water did a world of good in helping him regain his center. His conversation with Amanda hadn’t gone the way he’d expected, or was used to. He figured it was fifty-fifty whether she’d show up at all.

He stared at the copper-colored coins tossed in the bottom of the fountain. Truthfully, this woman had knocked him for a loop. She showed real fear about the fact he was a skier. Since he’d turned pro, how many women had had that reaction?

None. He shoved his hands in his jeans pocket. Then again, in ten years he’d never pursued a woman during ski season. In his world, he’d learned there were too many temptations that could trip him up. People whose motives he couldn’t trust.

Not that their meeting today was a big deal. It was just a…two-hour date. Above all, he didn’t want to rush anything with Amanda. Since he’d been off the tour, he’d turned over a new leaf in his life: no more empty one-night stands. That went along with his skiing comeback. He was here to redo the things he hadn’t liked about himself and to make his life the way he wanted it to be. That included avoiding groupies. They were there for the picking, always around. What he wanted was something more substantial.

The elevator door dinged and then opened, causing him to stiffen with anticipation, but the car was empty. It looked as if she wasn’t coming after all. When he’d called her, he’d been hoping that if he got her outside, onto the mountain, maybe he could make that light come on in her eyes, the way it did when she talked about her job. Yeah, she was a girl from the north country, but by her own admission she had traveled a long way since those days. He’d needed to know if she could get past her aversion to skiing. For some reason, it was important to him to find out. Judging from their phone conversation, the answer was a resounding no.

Maybe it was better she hadn’t shown up.

He turned to leave as the elevator dinged again. This time, Amanda walked out. He stared at her, his fingers curling into his palms.

Her hair was loose and she wore tight jeans and a sexy red top that perfectly hugged her curves. Those weren’t ski clothes by any stretch of the imagination, but she looked amazing enough that it didn’t matter.

Then she saw him, and her smile lit up the entire lobby. All the tightness in his chest disappeared and he felt lifted and buoyed.

She marched right up to him. “Ciao, Brody.” Her smile was slightly higher on one side, devilishly crooked. She rose on her toes, then she was in his space and all he could smell was her amazing spa-forest scent that she carried with her wherever she went. She arrowed her gorgeous lips to his.

“Ciao, Amanda.” He bent his head. He was six feet one to her—maybe—mid five feet. She’s gonna tease me with one of those European double-kisses, he figured. But, nope, she shocked him and pressed her lips to his, kissing him firmly on the mouth. A hot, honest North American kiss.

Damn. His soul seemed to corkscrew, and he lost his equilibrium. Which for a skier was unheard of.

She stared up at him, her eyes wide, her lips parted. This was where, two years ago, he would have led her out to his motor home. Maybe she would have stayed for an hour or two, but then he would have helped her dress and leave, never to see her again.

He didn’t want that from her. This time, everything felt different.

Leaning his hands against the fountain, he steadied himself. “I, ah, wasn’t expecting that.”

“I know.” Her eyes sparkled. “Now what’s this about something on the mountain you want me to see?”

“It’s a surprise. You don’t want me to ruin a surprise, do you?”

She crossed her arms. “Did Jeannie put you up to this?”

“Jean—?” He shook his head. No, it was better to be honest with her. He wasn’t setting himself up for anything that could come back to haunt him.

“Truthfully, I’m, ah, under orders to get away and go free skiing.” He saw the confusion on her face. “That means to relax and enjoy myself. Naturally, you were the first person I thought to call.”

She tapped her foot as if skeptical, but he could tell she was pleased with his answer. “You couldn’t go skiing alone and then give me a call afterward?”

“Nope. Too dangerous to ski alone.”

“And everybody else is busy?”

He hoped so. By reflex, he gave a furtive glance around the lobby, but the floors echoed with the footsteps of a lone guy headed in the direction of the cocktail party. The guy waved at Brody. “Welcome back,” he called with a German accent.

Brody nodded to the skier. He wasn’t sure who he was, someone new on the circuit probably, but they’d catch up next week.

He turned to Amanda and gave her a wide smile. “Looks like it’s just us. Will you trust me to get you down the slope safely, or are you going to give up and go back to your room without even trying?”

A crease appeared across her brow. His hunch was right; she was too competitive to let him get the best of her, even if it meant facing her fears on the slope. Good—she had guts.

She smiled back at him. “Actually, that depends on you, Brody. Do you think your manhood can handle your fans seeing you taking the baby bunny trail down the mountain?”

“The baby…” Did she mean the easy slope? “Of course, Amanda, I will absolutely follow your wishes.”

“No matter how bad it makes you look to your friends?”

“Standing next to you, it’s impossible to look bad.”

She laughed and made a show of rolling her eyes, but beneath her joking exterior he did sense real vulnerability. “Sure, Brody, that’s what you say now. Just wait until you get to know me better.”

He was hoping he got to know her a lot better; that was the whole point.

But right now, he had a feeling she was far more fragile inside than she wanted to admit. So he led the way to the rental shop, taking it slow.