Читать книгу Out of Character - Diana Miller - Страница 8

Lumbering through the colorful crowd in front of the lodge as fast as possible in clunky ski boots, Jillian glanced at her watch. 12:24. She was usually neurotically prompt, but today she was more than twenty minutes late.

Kristen was waiting inside the glass front door. “So?”

“So why am I late? I’m sorry, but—”

“So how was it? How was he? Are you seeing him again?”

Jillian walked over to the window to buy a lift ticket. “Dinner was excellent. You should try Zenith.” For some reason it didn’t feel right to give details about last night, not even to Kristen. She took the ticket from the cashier and stuffed her Visa card and receipt into her jacket pocket.

“Tell me more. About Mark, not the restaurant.”

Jillian zipped her pocket shut and attached her lift ticket. “He’s a nice guy, and I had a nice time.”

“Nice.”

“Yes, nice. We’re having dinner tonight, but I’ll be home early.” Jillian put on her sunglasses then walked out of the lodge to the rack where she’d stashed her skis. Although the temperature was in the twenties, the bright sunlight warmed her face and melted puddles on the concrete. She grabbed the skis between the end pegs. “Now I’d like to go skiing.” She set her skis on the snow.

“I can’t believe you used the words ‘like’ and ‘skiing’ in the same sentence,” Kristen said. “At least one that doesn’t also include ‘don’t’. I was shocked when you told me last night that you wanted to ski with me today.”

Jillian positioned her right boot on her binding. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Yeah, like you spending the night with a man you just met. I’ll get my skis.”

* * * *

“It’s amazing how much better you are,” Kristen said as they traversed the packed snow toward the lift to repeat the run they’d finished. “What happened?”

After doing two green runs, they’d tried a blue one, which Jillian had not only handled, but enjoyed so much she’d suggested repeating it. “I took wide, slow turns until I got over being scared.”

“That’s never worked before. Why this time?”

“Because Mark skied right above me so I didn’t have to worry about being hit by another skier and could concentrate on skiing.”

Kristen rested a hand on Jillian’s jacket sleeve. “I thought you took a class with Mark.”

“He only took my class because he hadn’t skied since he broke his leg,” Jillian said. “He realized he didn’t need a class, so we skipped out early. It was no big deal.”

“This man not only convinced you to spend the night with him but also got you over your fear of skiing? It’s a very big deal.”

“It isn’t.” Jillian slipped into the lift line, wishing she’d lied and given credit to a super instructor. “For some reason, skiing clicked this time. I did the other because I’m on vacation. I’d appreciate you not announcing it to the world.”

“Baloney,” Kristen said, but at least she’d lowered her voice. “You know how they say being drunk won’t make you do anything you don’t secretly want to do? Same thing with vacations. You’re so damn conservative about men that even deep down you don’t want a vacation fling. Which means you must think there’s a possible relationship there.”

“I’ve only known him for one day.”

“You still could have fallen for him.” Kristen punctuated her statement with her turquoise ski pole. “That you did it so fast means this could be major.”

Jillian skied up beside a teenage snowboarder standing directly ahead of them in lift line. “Can I ride up with you?”

The boy shrugged. “Whatever.”

Jillian got onto the next double chair with him. Much as she loved Kristen, she could be a real pain sometimes.

Because no matter what she thought, last night had been no big deal.

* * * *

Although Jillian repeated that mantra to herself all afternoon, she couldn’t help looking for Mark in case he’d changed his mind and decided to ski that afternoon. When they got back to their townhouse, she called him the instant Kristen left the living room to shower.

“How was skiing?” he asked.

“Terrific, and Kristen thinks you should be canonized.” Jillian sat on the leather sofa. “What did you do?”

“Ran a couple errands, then came back and slept. I needed to recharge my energy for tonight.”

His words made her body simmer. “Why don’t we ski before dinner? I’d like to try night skiing.” That was true, but Jillian’s primary motivation for suggesting it was her brain telling her she needed to slow things down.

“Aren’t you exhausted?” Mark asked. “You got as little sleep as I did.”

“I’m an ER doctor. I’m used to weird sleep schedules. Although I’ll need more tonight,” her brain made her add.

“How about if I promise to let you sleep three hours?”

“Three?” Her brain screamed that she needed to sleep all night, alone.

“Four, then.”

She closed her eyes. “You’ve got a deal.” Brains had no business dictating vacation conduct. “If you agree to go night skiing first.” She could still slow things down a little.

“Okay. Afterwards we can use the hot tub at my place.”

“That’s a good idea. You should be careful of your knee. That scar is nasty.” Mark had a scar on his abdomen and a couple on his legs, including an especially vicious one above his kneecap. Souvenirs from a car accident a few years ago that had resulted in his broken leg, he’d said, and presumably the death of his wife.

“I appreciate your concern, but that wasn’t why I suggested the hot tub,” he said dryly. “Can you meet me in an hour?”

“I thought I could cook something for dinner, and that won’t give me enough time to shop.”

“How about we get takeout tonight?” His voice lowered and roughened. “Because I’m not sure I can stand waiting even an hour to see you again.”

Right. A line, and an old one at that, but it still turned Jillian’s body to melting JELL-O. “An hour will be perfect. I’ll meet you in front of the lodge.”

“If it’s no big deal, why are you blushing like that?” Kristen stood in the doorway, still dressed in ski clothes.

Jillian stood up. “I need to get ready.”

“I’d say if you were any more ready, you’d spontaneously combust.”

Jillian glared at Kristen, then headed for her bedroom, her stride and bearing pure Katharine Hepburn.

Except no one would have dared laugh so hysterically at one of Katharine’s exits.

* * * *

Mark hung up the phone then stood to one side of the picture window, out of bullet range. The sun had nearly set, the mountains jagged, imposing silhouettes against the orange-tinged gray sky. He’d always loved mountains and not only because their myriad of escape routes and hideouts had saved his ass more than once. Their enormity and quiet power made him feel an emotion he couldn’t name and rarely experienced. He’d say they touched his soul, if he were at all certain he had one.

He closed the aluminum blinds, returned to the sofa, and sat down, his gun resting on his thigh. Who could have guessed a woman with frosty hair and icy eyes would have all that fire inside of her? Just hearing her voice had made him hard. Who would blame him if he wasn’t willing to give that up yet?

His blasted conscience would, and contrary to popular belief, he did have one. Right now his conscience was lecturing that even though he was certain he wasn’t endangering Jillian, he should still feel guilty about convincing her to spend last night and tonight with him. He’d even stooped to telling dog stories, for God’s sake.

Not that he’d forced her. But Jillian didn’t have a clue what he really was, would never have skied with him if she had. Even he wasn’t persuasive enough to convince an ER doctor dedicated to saving lives to be with a man who’d ended so many of them.

Although Jillian wasn’t doing anything with him. She was doing it with Mark Jefferson, a New York City accountant, slightly dull but from a nice family, considerate, friendly, eminently respectable. An all-around good guy.

He got up and strode to the kitchen then opened the refrigerator and dug around inside. So he was prepared to ignore his conscience and bring Jillian back here again tonight, despite knowing she’d be appalled at what he was and hurt when he disappeared without explanation. He pulled a bottle of mineral water from behind the chardonnay they’d never finished and slammed the refrigerator door. All so he could have a little more hot sex.

He smiled grimly at his reflection in the stainless steel door. He truly was as big a bastard as people thought.

* * * *

The moon and stars sparkled in the crystal cold, illuminating shadowy peaks, onyx sky, and an occasional fat snowflake. In the lamplight below their chairlift, two silhouettes traversed glowing Styrofoam snow. Jillian half-expected to see an ice palace and snow queen. “Admit it, it’s beautiful.”

“Beautiful.” Mark kissed her, his lips warm despite the chilly air.

“Be careful. You might fall out.”

“Then I could find out how good a doctor you are.”

“I’m damn good.”

He kissed her again, longer this time. “Can’t argue with that.”

“I was referring to my medical skills.”

Skiing down the hill proved even more magical than riding the chairlift, their schussing skis the only sound in the cathedral-like silence. Mark stayed beside Jillian for a while then accelerated, moving nearly straight down the hill.

Jillian kept to her more leisurely pace, warmth filling her chest. Much as she tried to deny it, Kristen was right. She had fallen for Mark. Even though their relationship might end when vacation did. Even though she never did anything as impulsive as falling for a man this fast. Even though he could be married with seven kids or make his living conning old ladies out of their inheritances.

Except she trusted him. She skied to him and kissed his cheek.

“What’s that for?”

“Because I’m having so much fun. I can’t believe more people aren’t out on such a gorgeous night. We have the hill to ourselves.”

“Not exactly to ourselves,” Mark said as another couple skied toward them. “But it’s a big hill.” He wrapped an arm around Jillian’s shoulders, and they skied together to the chairlift and got on.

“I want this scene on my Christmas cards next year,” Jillian said. Below them, thick pine trees lined the sides of the shimmering slope. She took a deep breath, inhaling air that seemed to purify her lungs. “I love this. Thanks for agreeing to do it.”

* * * *

Mark nodded. He was glad she was enjoying it. After two more runs, three tops, they were heading back to his place. He didn’t have much more time with her, and he didn’t intend to waste—

A bullet struck their chair. “Damn it. Get down.” Mark pressed Jillian forward with her head between her knees. He covered her head with his chest as a second bullet hit his ski boot.

“What is it?” She sounded confused, scared.

A bullet clanked off their chair.

“I think someone’s shooting at us.” Adrenaline sharpened his senses. He scanned the hillside, but couldn’t see anyone. From the direction of the bullets, the sniper had hidden in the pines. Shooting back would be futile, even if he’d dared stop shielding Jillian long enough to pull out his gun.

She cried out, jerked under him, and dropped her poles.

Mark’s gut clenched. “Are you all right?”

“It hit my shoulder, but I don’t think it’s bad,” she said shakily. “Why is this happening?”

A shot whizzed past his ear. Nearly a bulls-eye.

The next bullet hit the empty chair behind them. Farther back, a woman screamed.

Mark breathed again. “I think we’re out of his range, but stay down anyway.” In case there was a second shooter. “You don’t think your shoulder’s serious?”

“It feels like the bullet just nicked the skin.”

Thank God. He should never have agreed to ski tonight, but he’d have sworn it was safe. No one would search for him on the slopes at night, and he’d been positive he hadn’t been followed. Obviously his personal radar had malfunctioned, most likely because he’d been preoccupied with getting Jillian off the ski slopes and into his bed. And she was suffering for it.

The lift seemed to be climbing in slow motion. Mark looked around. The slope was empty and quiet. He helped Jillian sit up. He could make out a small tear in her jacket, but no dark stain around it. “Let me see your shoulder.”

“I’m not taking my jacket off in the cold.” She removed her glove and unzipped her coat enough to reach inside. She winced and withdrew her hand. “It’s tender, but I can’t feel the bullet or much blood. From what I know about gunshot wounds, serious ones hurt a lot more than this.”

Serious gunshot wounds hurt like hell; he knew that from painful experience. Although the cold could be numbing it. “Should I press on it to stop the bleeding?”

Her wan smile was encouraging. “Since it isn’t bleeding much, all that would do is make it hurt more. Why would someone shoot at us?”

They’d finally neared the top of the hill. “Don’t know. I’ll help you off.” Mark tossed his poles at the dismount area then removed his right glove and shoved his hand under his ski jacket, grabbing his gun. He put his other arm around Jillian and surveyed the area. The only person he saw was the lift operator.

“We need a medic,” Mark yelled as he helped Jillian off the chair. “Someone’s shooting at the ski lift halfway down the slope. She was hit.”

The lift operator stared at him blankly.

“Call the rescue squad. And get security to find the shooter.”

Jillian slumped against Mark.

His blood froze. “Are you all right?”

“My knees buckled. I was so scared.” Her voice quavered.

Mark pulled her close with one arm. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.”

“My God, someone shot at us!” A man spoke behind them, his voice loud and excited.

An equally excited female said, “We couldn’t see him, but we heard the shots. One bounced off the empty chair in front of us.”

Mark removed his hand from under his jacket. No one would dare shoot at him up here, not with all these people around. He tuned out the voices and concentrated on stroking Jillian’s hair and murmuring quietly to her.

A snowmobile roared to the top of the hill, paused by the lift operator then continued to them.

“An ambulance is on its way to the parking lot,” the driver said as he and another man hopped off the idling vehicle. “Let’s get her onto the stretcher.”

“I don’t need a stretcher.” Jillian moved out of Mark’s arms. “I’m an ER doctor, and it’s barely a scratch.”

“She needs to have it checked out,” Mark told the men. “I think you should get on the stretcher, Jillian. In case you start feeling faint.”

“I’m fine.”

She would be, once she got away from him and to somewhere full of medical personnel and cops. “I need to be sure you’re all right. Please.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay.”

The rescue team secured her on the stretcher then loaded it onto the sled behind their snowmobile. “People,” the driver yelled. “People!”

The small group at the top of the hill quieted.

“More snowmobiles are coming for the rest of you. Ride those down and wait for the police. They’ll want your statements.”

“Give us a minute.” Mark knelt in the snow beside Jillian. “Get that shoulder taken care of. I couldn’t handle it if anything happened to you.”

Jillian nodded.

He dropped a hard kiss on her lips. “I’ll call you.”

Clutching his gun inside his jacket again, Mark watched the snowmobile speed down the hill until the night swallowed it. Jillian would be safe now. No thanks to him.

No, thanks to him, she’d nearly ended up dead. No matter how he tried to excuse it, how convinced he’d been it was safe, the bottom line was he’d endangered an innocent woman for his own selfish purposes. An innocent woman he’d genuinely liked, but had still managed to hurt.

Now he’d hurt her more. Because he’d never call her, never e-mail her, never have any contact with her again. Although that was for the best, she was bound to feel bad about it. To feel as if he’d been using her. Which, of course, he had been.

He let out a long breath, trying to expel the guilt gnawing his gut. Then he pulled out his cell phone. He’d deal with that damned conscience of his later. His top priority now had to be disappearing before the cops got suspicious or reinforcements arrived. He had things to do, and he couldn’t do them from a jail cell—or a morgue.