Читать книгу Suiteheart Of A Deal: Suiteheart Of A Deal / My Place Or Yours? - Wendy Etherington - Страница 15

“HOW MANY CARDS?”

Beck looked up. Someone had just spoken to him. Who was it? For one dizzy moment, he thought it was Rainey. But it couldn’t be. He was here in Banff, hunched over Nate Frome’s dining room table. She was alone in his cottage, doing heaven only knew what. Probably burning his clothes by now. Cutting up his furniture. Trashing his office.

“Beck?” came the bewildered voice again.

Beck snapped to attention. Okay, it was Nate Frome. At first glance he had actually looked like Rainey. Her face had somehow been superimposed on his—on all three faces at the table, in fact. Nate’s. Arnie Hutchinson’s. Pete Wilson’s. They all looked just like her—minus the knockout body and the long legs, of course.

“Beck!” Nate repeated. He sounded more worried than impatient. “How many cards do you want?”

“Ah, I’ll take three,” Beck replied. Wait a minute. Was it three? How many cards did he have in his hand? Oh, yeah. Two. “I’ll take three,” he repeated dumbly.

A look passed between the others. Catching it out of the corner of his eye, Beck muttered, “Sorry, gentlemen. I’m a little off tonight.”

“Yeah,” Pete snorted. “Off the planet.”

“Gentlemen, let’s play cards,” Nate said wearily.

Brows furrowed, lips pursed, Beck tried to concentrate on his hand. Okay, he had the jack of spades, the seven of hearts, the nine of diamonds and two sixes—a club and another heart. Nothing. “What’s wild?” he asked, risking more ridicule.

“You being here on your wedding night,” Arnie dead-panned.

Beck struggled to arrange his facial features into something resembling intelligence. “Rainey’s getting settled in,” he explained. “I’m just killing a little time.” It sounded lame, but what else could he say? I can’t go home yet, guys, ’cause I’m hot for my wife—I just can’t keep my hands off her. Yeah, sure.

“Fives and tens,” Pete said.

Beck frowned. “What?”

Shaking his head, Pete leaned across the table. “Fives and tens are wild, Beck. Listen, buddy, maybe you should just head on home now.”

Beck peeked at his watch. It was only eight-fifteen. If he went home this early, he’d probably find Rainey awake and shredding his photo collection.

Damn that woman! She had been hotter than hell when he left, but she wasn’t having it both ways. No, sir. Either it was a real marriage, or it wasn’t. Either they were going to get down and dirty, or they weren’t. And she was adamant that they weren’t. So why was she upset? Women. He loved them, but he would never understand them.

“I’m out.” He tossed his cards facedown on the table. Grumbling, Nate and Pete did likewise, and Arnie took the pot.

Restless, Beck jumped up and poured himself a cup of the strong coffee that helped the boys to stay awake, sometimes until dawn. It was probably a mistake. Sooner or later he would have to go home, and the last thing he needed was to lie awake all night thinking about how good it would be…

Nate cleared his throat. “So, ah, Beck, tell us how you and Rainey fell in love overnight.” A chorus of snickers rose up from the table. Beck ignored it—along with the annoying smirk on Frome’s face.

Coffee in hand, he sat down again. His friendship with Nate had always had an edge to it—a friendly rivalry. After that little episode two years ago, it had gotten downright nasty. But hey—how was Beck supposed to know that Nate had been dating that woman? She certainly hadn’t mentioned it.

“I don’t know, Nate,” he replied off-handedly. “I’m as surprised as you are.”

“Okay, gentlemen,” Pete announced, “it’s kings and little ones. You don’t need the king to make the little one wild.”

The boys exchanged looks, but Beck stayed where he was.

Summoning all the concentration he could muster, Beck managed to get through the next hand, and the one after that. Between losses, his mind drifted back to Lilly’s bedroom—to the embrace that had rocked his world.

How had Rainey managed to get him worked up so quickly? Sure she was sexy. But so was Francine. And Linda before her. And Maryann before her. They were all babes, but none of them got his hormones cooking the way Rainey Miller did. None of them sent his libido into hyperdrive whenever she touched him.

Francine. Linda. Maryann. Beck could have any one of them tonight, he knew. Yup, even on his wedding night. One phone call was all it would take. But he didn’t want them. He wanted Gorgeous Green Eyes. Badly.

“So,” Arnie ventured, “I don’t suppose there’s a connection between your recent marriage and your inheritance, is there?”

Momentarily stunned by the sheer audacity of the question, Beck glanced around the table at the others. Their faces were impassive, their eyes glued firmly to their hands. What the hell. There was no point in getting riled. Obviously he was going to have to get used to this kind of stuff.

He rearranged his own cards. “No connection at all, Arnie. As you know, I was going to get the money, anyway.”

“Hmm.” Arnie pretended to be fascinated by his hand.

Beck knew that more was coming. Sure enough, two hands later, Arnie added, “Yeah, but not for another three years. Isn’t that right?” That launched another round of snickers. Pete eventually laughed so hard he spit a mouthful of coffee clear across the table onto Nate’s Polo shirt.

Okay, that was it. “I’m outta here!” Beck snapped. “’Bout time.” Nate said with a laugh. He dabbed at his shirt with a napkin. “If I had a woman like that in my bed, I would have been gone hours ago.”

As Beck was nearing the door, Pete called out from the table, “Hey, buddy. Don’t forget, you promised to help me build my garage. I really want to get it done before the snow flies. Can I still count on you?”

“Of course,” Beck replied without hesitation. Actually, he’d completely forgotten about it. “Just call me when you’re ready.”

“Terrific. Thanks.”

On the forty-minute drive home, Beck concentrated on the ribbon of pavement in front of him. It was just after ten, but the sky was already black. Winter was coming. How the hell was he going to get through a long, cold Alberta winter with the hottest woman he’d ever met sleeping in the room right next to his?

Yeah, well, like it or not, he would just have to bide his time. Rainey was “vulnerable.” There would be no rushing her. And Lord knew the last thing he wanted to do was scare her off. After all, what if she did turn out to be the perfect woman for him?

As he pulled into the driveway, it occurred to him that what he needed was a coping strategy. Hmm. Maybe if he kept busy, day and night, and kept Rainey busy, too, they would survive this ordeal intact. The inn would use up their days, but that left the evenings and weekends. Something would have to be done about them.

What a waste, he thought sadly. Killing time when they could be making love, talking, snuggling, making love, cooking, watching TV, making love, reading, hiking, making love…

Mercifully, the house was dark. Inside, he tiptoed into the living room and turned on the halogen reading lamp next to his favorite chair.

And blinked.

The room was spotless. He soon discovered that the entire main floor of the house had been scrubbed to within an inch of its life. He chuckled to himself.

Yup. Keeping busy. It was the only way.

“RISE AND SHINE, sleepyhead. It’s seven o’clock.”

Rainey peeled one eye open and peered up at Beck. When his fuzzy face finally came into focus, she muttered, “You mean, like, in the morning?”

He laughed. “Yes, ma’am. I mean, like, in the morning.”

Groaning, she rolled over and burrowed deeper under the blankets. Ten years of working the night shift had turned her into a night owl. She didn’t do mornings. Last night, however, she had hit the sack early, then tossed and turned for hours. In fact, she had been wide-awake when Beck got home. Just after ten—10:23, to be exact. Not that she cared, or anything.

“C’mon, woman.” He jabbed at the blankets.

“Go away!”

“Okay, I’m leaving, but if you don’t get up in the next two minutes, I’ll be back with a bucket of ice water.”

Ice water? A chill ran down Rainey’s spine and she shivered violently. “You’re mean. Go away!”

“Two minutes, woman.”

She poked her head out from under the warm down comforter. “Why do I have to get up this early on a Sunday?”

He grinned. “I have plans for you.”

“What kind of plans?”

“You’ll know soon enough. Now get up. Your breakfast is waiting.”

Breakfast? He had to be joking. Rainey ate breakfast when most people had already eaten lunch, lunch when they were just plopping down in front of the television, and dinner when they were undressing for bed. No way was she putting food in her stomach at this ungodly hour.

After Beck backed out of the room, counting backward from 120, she crawled out of bed, donned her terry cloth bathrobe and pulled a comb through her tangled hair. Still half asleep, she stumbled downstairs, only to be assaulted by the noxious odor of bacon and eggs. Yuck!

“How about cereal with skim milk?” she suggested hopefully. Yawning, she poured a cup of steaming hot coffee and slumped down at the kitchen table.

“Eat up,” Beck commanded, setting a plate of the cholesterol-heavy food down in front of her. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us, and you’re going to need more than cereal.”

“Who ever needs more than cereal?”

“You do. Your cappuccino and croissant days are over. You’re a mountain woman now.”

While Rainey picked at her food, Beck, astonishingly, dropped to the floor and cranked out twenty push-ups. Her mouth fell open. What the devil? Surely he wasn’t this hyper every morning at seven? Puh-leez. Immediately afterward, he sprang to his feet and did a dozen jumping jacks. Then, flushed and panting, he ran on the spot for a while. It was only five minutes or so, but it seemed much longer to Rainey.

Still running, he barked at her like a drill sergeant. “Hey! Eat those eggs. If you don’t, I’m going to make you drop to the floor and give me ten.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “How ’bout I give you ten dollars to get lost?”

“Not funny. Down the hatch, woman.”

Before Rainey knew what had hit her she was in the Fairlane, hurtling down the sun-dappled highway at break-neck speed. Fir trees flew by in a blur. Small wildlife entered her peripheral vision only to vanish milliseconds later. All the while Beck chattered nonstop, switching wildly from one topic to another. He had to be on drugs.

Last night, she had gone to bed cursing him but had quickly come to her senses. For one thing, this was strictly a business deal, and wasn’t it she who had insisted they keep their business and personal lives separate? It might be tough under the circumstances, but it wasn’t impossible.

For another thing, she just couldn’t seem to stay mad at the guy for long. Why was that? Of course, she might just be influenced this time by the fact that he had come home pretty early last night. Obviously he hadn’t been with a woman, as she had assumed. Maybe he couldn’t find one. Oh, yeah, sure! Beck Mahoney—unable to find a woman? The guy would find friendly female flesh in a nunnery.

From time to time, Rainey stole a sideways glance at him. In profile he was treacherously handsome, his aquiline nose and sculptured lips perfectly aligned between his strong forehead and square, manly chin.

As he babbled on about fishing rights in the national parks, she stifled the urge to reach out and touch his cheek. Oh, Rainey, she silently chastised herself, don’t get all sweet on the guy. There’s nothing in it but a broken heart. Besides, things are complicated enough.

When Beck stopped yapping long enough to catch his breath, she demanded to know, once and for all, exactly where they were going.

“Up,” he finally admitted. “Straight up the Galatea Trail in Kananaskis Provincial Park, the most beautiful place on earth.”

He was right. It was beautiful. Breathtaking, actually. Soon after they turned south off the Trans-Canada Highway onto a secondary blacktop, the forest hugging both sides of the road grew taller and denser and more varied. It was an explosion of green, punctuated here and there by startling bursts of pastel. A light breeze whistled through the trees, and the sky above was a perfect robin’s egg blue. Rainey sighed with pleasure—until she realized what Beck had just said.

“What do you mean by up?” she asked. “Exactly how far up are we going? And how are we getting there?”

“Eight kilometers, on foot. That’s about five miles, if you prefer the linear to the metric measurement.”

Eight kilometers? Good grief! Rainey struggled to recall the last thing she had climbed. Oh, yeah. The little ladder astride the bunk beds in Dana’s bedroom. Twenty years ago. Terrific.

“Please tell me we’re not going to be rappelling off the side of anything!” she cried.

He shook his head. “Not today. That’s next week. Today we’re just hiking. That’s about all you city types can handle on a first run.”

In the public parking lot at the mouth of the trail, they encountered two of the giggly young clerks from Nate Frome’s office—a petite blonde with a Kewpie doll mouth, and a lanky brunette who couldn’t peel her eyes off Beck for a second. Looking clear through Rainey, she whined, “Is it true what everybody is saying, Beck? That you’re married?” She made married sound like poisoned.

“’Fraid so, ladies. This is my wife, Rainey.” Beck draped his arm around Rainey’s shoulders and drew her close. She put her arm around him, and they both beamed foolishly at the young women.

“How do you do, Mrs. Mahoney?” the blonde asked politely. Rainey blinked. Mrs. Mahoney? Maybe they should have talked about that name thing, too. Oh, well, it went with the territory, she supposed.

“Very well, thank you,” she replied.

The women immediately dismissed her and started to chatter at Beck. Relieved, Rainey slipped out from under his arm—it felt a little too right—and took another look around.

“You know, you’re putting a big dent in my fan club,” Beck joked after his admirers bounced off in the direction of the trail.

Rainey rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, some dent!”

Laughing, Beck fished his backpack out of the trunk. He had made sandwiches for them, and brought fruit along, too. While Rainey appraised the steep, tree-lined cliffs facing them, he took something out of the backpack. “Rainey?” He tossed it to her. It was a necklace—a whistle, actually, suspended from a long shoelace.

She eyed it suspiciously. “What’s this for?”

“Bears,” he said without looking at her. “The trail will be nearly deserted today. Every now and then, we’ll give it a blow, just to let them know we’re here.”

Rainey gasped. “Bears! Beck Mahoney, you didn’t say anything about bears!”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he said as if she were a hopeless worrywart. “It’s just a precaution, that’s all.”

She nodded and murmured, “Uh-huh.” She didn’t believe that for one minute!

They began the long, slow ascent. Beck went first, occasionally reaching back to help Rainey step up to a high ledge, or get over an outcropping of sharp rock. The mountainside was steep in some places, mercifully flat in others. Whenever they reached a level place, Rainey fell to the ground, gasping for air and begging for mercy.

“Buck up there, woman!” Beck teased. “It’s a long way up.”

Between the infrequent plateaus conversation proved impossible. It took every ounce of breath Rainey had just to blow the whistle. Beck had been right; the trail was seldom used at this time of year. But once in a while, when they stopped to rest, small groups of hikers overtook them.

At the halfway point, two stunning women about Rainey’s age passed by. They were moving at a good clip, and neither of them had so much as broken a sweat. Rainey, on the other hand, was drenched. Long ago she had peeled off her sweatshirt and tied it around her waist. Her skimpy T-shirt was damp, her face smudged, her upper arms scratched and bloody from numerous encounters with prickly branches.

She wanted to kill the women. Especially when one of them drawled, “Hi, Beck. Let me know if it doesn’t work out,” before tossing her chestnut mane in Rainey’s face and continuing along the trail. Beck’s only reaction was to check Rainey for her reaction. Seeing the stunned disbelief in her eyes, he threw back his head and roared.

The climb took nearly four hours. At the top they paused and surveyed the scene. Rainey’s jaw dropped.

A lush, green meadow stretched out before them, dotted with wildflowers in every color of the rainbow. Beyond it lay Mirror Lake, a shallow body of water so clear, so pristine, it seemed immoral even to look upon it. The nearby adjacent mountain peaks were perfectly reflected in the calm surface of the lake. It was an upside down photo, flawlessly framed and focused by nature itself.

Overcome with emotion, Rainey could barely speak. “Oh, Beck,” she finally managed to whisper, “I had no idea.” She squinted up at him. “Thank you for bringing me here. Thank you.”

He beamed. “My pleasure.”

They found an isolated, grassy slope near the water and lay down, side by side. The air was cool at that elevation, but the sun was hot—a phenomenon of mountainous areas, Rainey knew. She closed her eyes. Sometime later—time had ceased to exist—she opened them again. Beck had turned onto his side and sat up on one elbow. He was gazing dreamily into her eyes.

“I’ve always wanted to kiss a beautiful woman up here,” he murmured softly.

Rainey cocked an eyebrow. “You mean you haven’t?” Surely he was joshing. Surely he had brought other women here—and kissed them all soundly.

“No, I haven’t,” he insisted.

He was telling the truth. She knew it.

“Well, you’ve got plenty of women to choose from up here.” She chuckled nervously. “I think I saw—”

Before she could finish, his right hand slipped under her back, inside her T-shirt and along her bare skin to rest between her shoulder blades. His mouth came down softly on hers.

When he pulled back, moments later, she gulped. “Beck, nobody is watching. You don’t have to—”

He silenced her with another kiss, longer and deeper this time. While Rainey moaned, his hand eased around to make light contact with the side of her firm, bare breast. When his thumb grazed her swollen nipple, a small cry escaped from Rainey’s throat and that darned throbbing started in her lower belly again. Unable to resist, she raked her fingers through his hair.

So what if they had no audience? So what if he had a stable of women? He was one gorgeous man.

“Actually, someone is watching!” came a harsh female voice from behind them.

Beck’s head snapped back. Blushing like crazy, Rainey pushed him away, scrambled to a sitting position and hastily rearranged her rumpled T-shirt. They both climbed to their feet. A woman stood behind them, feet planted firmly apart, arms folded, eyes spitting fire. It was the redhead from Banff.

“Hello, Francine,” Beck muttered.

“Hello, Beck,” the woman snarled. “Long time no see.” Her eyes slid over Rainey as if she were pond scum. Addressing Beck but still glowering at Rainey, she said, “I hear you got married. A bit sudden, wasn’t it?”

“Not at all.” He gestured between the women. “Rainey, this is Francine Yates. Francine, my wife, Rainey.”

“How do you do?” Rainey asked politely. The woman didn’t respond.

“Does this mean you’re out of circulation now?” Francine asked Beck.

“That’s exactly what it means, Francine.”

She snorted. “Sure it does.” She appraised Rainey from head to toe. “Watch your heart, lady.”

Anger welled up inside Rainey. Anger at the impertinence of this bitter creature, anger at Beck for finding her buttons and pushing them and anger at herself for being weak and stupid, as usual.

“Well you needn’t worry. I won’t trouble you further,” Francine huffed, then marched off toward the picnic area. They watched her retreating back until it was just a dot on the landscape, then Beck moved toward Rainey, smiling hopefully. “Now, where were we?”

She backed away and held up her hands. “Look, Beck, this is too much. Your life is way too complicated for me.”

Astonishingly, he stomped his foot. “Ah, c’mon, Rainey! She’s a reporter for the Banff Cragg and Canyon. She came to Nakiska Ski Lodge last winter to write a piece on the ski patrol. We went out a few times. That was all.”

Shaking, Rainey sat down again and reached for the backpack. “It’s time for lunch. I’m starving.”

“Rainey!”

Before she could censor herself, the question she was dying to ask slipped out of her mouth. “Tell me something. Did you and she…?”

“No, we didn’t.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, does it?” It didn’t matter. Really it didn’t. Did it?

Beck started to laugh. “Obviously it matters to you.”

“Does not!”

“Does too!”

She sighed. “It’s okay, Beck. Honestly. Let’s just eat.”