Chapter 10

Two years ago...Hilltop Ski Resort, outside of Denver, Colorado...

The hour was late, but Race couldn’t sleep.  His mind kept going back to Chrissie Hill.  And her kiss.  Slipping out the back door to his suite, he stood in the frosty night air on the balcony, wearing only a pair of jeans and gazing out over the snow-covered mountain before him.  The cold bit into his bare chest, but he ignored it.  The sky was clear, a full moon rising and billions of stars twinkling magically.  Race inhaled a deep breath.  There was something about tonight...something that made his skin itch...someone who wouldn’t leave his thoughts.

He’d never been this obsessed with a woman before, and honestly, he didn’t really know her.  Her name, yes...her mouth, hell yes, but her?  

In the fifteen or so years that he’d been professionally racing bikes, he’d had his fair share of women throwing themselves at him.  Bicycling, like any other sport, drew in females looking to share a bed with an athlete, earning them bragging rights.  In his younger days, he stupidly succumbed to their wily ways, and during a particularly dark period of his life, he woke up next to this naked blonde he didn’t remember meeting, but all that was behind him now.  He’d matured.  He tried the relationship thing once, but traveling all around the world and staying focused on his career quickly ended that.  What woman would put herself second to a man’s erratic lifestyle?

Race knew of none.

He’d been selfish as a young man, his head wasn’t buried in the sand, yet he hadn’t wanted to give up his chance at becoming a great cyclist because the women he dated would rather stay up all night dancing and drinking.  Now, he wasn’t so sure if he made the right choice sometimes.  He missed waking up to a warm body next to him.  He missed a woman’s laughter and the scent of feminine shampoo on his pillow.

Race realized that at the age of thirty-two, he was quickly advancing into his retirement years.  Proud of all he accomplished, being one of the top racers in the nation, even earning a spot on the Olympic team a few years ago -- though an injury ended that opportunity -- he figured it was time to terminate his bachelor status and find someone who he could spend the rest of his life with.

One woman popped into his mind.  Chrissie.

He closed his eyes, picturing her wild curls and soft curves and wide, blue gaze, and he smiled to himself.  Tomorrow, he’d have to seek her out.  Find her, whatever the cost.  See if another kiss felt the same at the one from earlier.  Maybe tangle his fingers in her hair and...

A muffled curse and a crashing racket came from the end of the balcony, which was more like a wrap-around porch on the backside of this wing of the hotel.  Race slowly walked toward the sound, rounding the corner just as a body crashed into him.  The scent of coconuts assaulted his nostrils as those familiar blue eyes looked up from his chest.

Chrissie.  Her face showed recognition as she smiled at him, and he blinked, not believing his luck.

“Hide me,” she said in a quick whisper, sliding around his body to tug him along the balcony.  Her hands were like ice on his wrist, but she grinned at him over his shoulder and his feet followed of their own accord.  “Where’s your room?”

Another voice called out of the night, “Chrissie!  Damn it, sis!  Get back here!”

Chrissie smirked impishly back at the voice, and rushed forward, her bare feet sliding on the slick, icy boards of the balcony’s decking.  “Please, you have to hide me,” she urged, gaining momentum and almost passing his suite.

Race guided her into the open door, and she hurriedly closed it, dashing to turn off the lights.  Race stood in the middle of the room, watching her draw the curtains closed and peek out of them.  She wore a long, white robe with the resort’s logo on the front, and her feet peeked out from the bottom hem, showing off vibrant orange toenails.  She shivered slightly, curling her toes into the thick carpet as she kept her vigilance on the window.

“What are--”

“Shh!” she shot him a stern look over her shoulder.  Then she winked at him and returned to squint through the gap in the curtains.  Her wet hair was pulled up in a knot on top of her head, damp tendrils falling down around her neck, and Race’s hands itched to touch them.  The coconut smell filled the room, and Race never wanted a pina colada so bad in his life.  She tilted her face and smiled secretively at him, her eyes shining through the dark space between them, and he never wanted a woman so bad in his life.  A figure ran past the windows out on the balcony, and Chrissie jerked backward.  The person outside continued to call her name, getting further and further away.  After a moment, silence followed, and Chrissie visibly relaxed.

Race took a step toward her, and then three more when he saw her open the balcony door to leave.  “Wait!”

She turned to him, considered him for a second or two, and she smiled again.  “Thank you,” she said, and leaned over to kiss him quickly before exiting the suite.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said, grasping her arms and pulling her to him.  She blinked with a little fear widening her eyes, but she didn’t struggle.  “I won’t hurt you, but I do think I deserve an explanation.”

Her hands, laid flat against his chest, red and cold from the biting chill outside, pushed slightly.  “My sister, she’s kind of pissed at me now...well, payback is rough.”  Her lips quirked with another impish smile.  “Please, let me go.”

If only he could.  His heart started thumping wildly, threatening to rattle his ribcage loose, and she felt it with her freezing hands.  He let go of her elbows to hold her hands against his skin.  “You’re cold.”

She laughed.  “It’s cold outside, or haven’t you noticed the snow lying on the ground?”

Her robe gaped open at the top, and he could see almost clear to her orange toes through the opening.  He noticed that.  She was naked under that terry cloth, apparently fresh out of the shower, and his body reacted instantly.  “Why are you running around outside like this?”

She huffed, puffing at a curl that fell across her face.  “Because I didn’t have time to get dressed.  Now, please let me go.”

“Why didn’t you have time?”

She shrugged, smiling again in that secretive, innocent manner.  “Dena’s fast.”

“Dena’s your sister?  The one chasing you?”

She knocked her chin up stubbornly.  “She deserved it.  She should’ve minded her own business.”

Race smiled at her small gesture of defiance.  She felt so good against him, cold fingers and all.  And now that he only held her hands, she could escape whenever she wanted, but she hadn’t.  In fact, she almost pressed closer to him.  She shivered briefly, the vibration of her frozen state causing her body to tremble deliciously against him.  

“You’re warm,” she murmured, twining her fingers in his and lowering her head to press her cold nose into his neck.  Race held his breath, battling with his own reception to her actions because a layer of denim wasn’t much of a roadblock for what he was aiming at.  Her toes shifted to the top of his feet, and a jolt of permafrost from the icy misfits shot straight up his legs like a flash of electricity, cooling him for a moment.  She curled and tickled his insteps with her big toes while her adorable, arctic nose drew circles on his neck just below his ear.   He stood there, letting her nuzzle him as a chilly draft of air floated through the open doorway.  Between her icy snuggles and the wintry air, he considered closing that door, but would that seem too presumptuous?

Then her tongue touched his skin, licking a trail from his shoulder to his ear.  “Mmm, you taste good, too,” she whispered right before biting down on his earlobe.

He shoved her backward by the shoulders, his ear stinging from the scrape of her teeth.  “You shouldn’t do things like that,” he said hoarsely.  “They can get you into trouble.”

Her big, blue eyes widened just before she sighed softly and stepped out of his hold.  “I know.  I’m sorry.  It’s just that...”  She trailed off, a pink tint soaking her cheeks as she averted her gaze, and he knew the color had nothing to do with the cold temperatures outside.

He tilted her face up with a finger under her chin.  “It’s just what?”

She held his gaze steady, those bright blue depths pulling him into them.  She bit her lip as she considered her next words.  Then with a gleam in her eyes, she blurted out.  “I like kissing you.   I don’t know you, I don’t even know your name, and I’m not this kind of girl, but you make me burn inside.  Why is that?”

Hell if he knew, but he felt the same way about her.  “I’m Race,” he supplied, drawing her back into his arms, “and I like kissing you, too.”

She grinned and threw herself into his embrace.  Race wrapped himself around her as their lips met, and he kicked the door closed.

*****

He sat at the kitchen table, watching her eat as he remembered that first night.  They kissed and talked and kissed some more for hours, falling back on the sofa in his suite.  He couldn’t remember how he controlled himself, but they did not have sex that night.  She told him she wasn’t that kind of girl, and he believed her.  He didn’t want her to be that kind of girl.  By midnight, he was half-way in love with her and her blue eyes.  By 3 A.M., he was completely in love with her and never wanted her to leave.  She fell asleep in his arms, and he awoke alone the next morning, but he’d already tasted the fruits of her love.  There was no turning back after that night together.

He glanced at Dena, who sat across from him, and he smirked at her, remembering the first time he saw her that next morning long ago.  Her hair had been green.  Chrissie’s doing.  He never got the whole story about that, and frankly didn’t really care.  Dena looked up from her tacos.

“What?”

He shook his head.  “Nothing.”

Dena narrowed her eyes, and Chrissie, who’d been feeding Stinker little tidbits of fish off her plate, looked between them.  The cat stood on the table, something Race wished Chrissie wouldn’t allow, but he never said anything about it.  As it’s tail slapped Dena in the face, and his sister-in-law growled in return.  

“Why do you let him do that?” she asked Chrissie.  Chrissie shrugged and held up another scrap of mahi mahi for Stinker to nibble off her finger.

“He has impeccable manners,” Chrissie argued with a small smile for her cat.  Stinker nuzzled her fish-covered fingers, and Race thought, Spoiled cat.  And when Dena swatted his tail out of her eyes, Stinker hissed at her.  Chrissie laughed, “As long as you don’t mess with him.”

Race chuckled.  Frankly, he was a dog person.  Give him a giant Great Dane or a German Shepherd, and he’d be quite content, but Chrissie loved that neurotic fur ball, so he tolerated it.  As it turned out, Stinker loved him.  Race didn’t know why, but he was the only person not subjected to Stinker’s temperament.  The odoriferous stench of his feces was another matter altogether.

Stinker earned his name, that was for sure, and guess who cleaned out the litter box?  Race grunted, thinking about that, which brought Dena’s attention back to him.

“And don’t ‘nothing’ me,” Dena said, pointing an accusing finger at him.  “What were you thinking about a minute ago?”

He grinned widely.  “I was just wondering if you’ll color your hair green again.  If I remember correctly, it was good look for you.”

Dena threw a corn chip at him.  Chrissie blinked at their back-and-forth.  “Green hair?”

Both Race and Dena gazed at her.  Of course, she wouldn’t remember that...or would she?  “Spring Break at Mom’s two years ago,” Dena said encouragingly.  “I tried to hook you up with that ski instructor, and you put green food coloring in my shampoo.”

Chrissie stared inwardly at her own thoughts, and Race held his breath.  Please, please remember.  She’d already met him, but the green shampoo happened before their night together.  Chrissie smiled softly.  “Oh, yeah...what was his name?  Isaac or something?”

He and Dena sat straight up.  They looked at each other, hopeful expressions filling both their faces.  Then Chrissie said, “Talk about a bore.  I can’t believe I spent the whole next day with him.”

Dena’s eyes whipped to her sister, tears filling them as they closed with sadness.  Race looked down at the table.  Chrissie didn’t spend the whole next day with the ski instructor.  When he woke up that morning, he dressed and ran through the resort, searching for her, only to find Chrissie being fitted with skis by this blond hulk in a vibrant orange jumpsuit.  He sent the instructor off -- literally, sliding down the slope with the rest of the garbage -- and commandeered his future wife’s attention and temper-tantrums for the rest of the week.

His first reaction was to tell her about that week and demand that she remember, but Dena’s words of patience entered his brain.  He’d keep quiet...for now.  Dena, the hypocritical doxy, swallowed roughly and said, “That’s not how I remember it.”

Chrissie blinked back to the present.  “What?”

Dena leaned over, pushing Stinker off the table so she could see her sister better.  “That was the day you met your -- um, the day you met Race.”

Chrissie looked at him, and then turned her eyes back to Dena.  “It was?”

No one answered her. Race clamped his mouth shut, grinding his back teeth.  He could do this.  He could remain patient and not demand his wife to remember him.  He definitely didn’t want a repeat of the closet incident.  After a moment, Chrissie stood up and walked over to the pantry.  Both Race and Dena watched her with curious frowns.

“What are you doing?” Dena asked.

“I went to the grocery store last week,” Chrissie said slowly.  “I bought a box of raisin bran,” she added.  “I haven’t opened it yet.”  Race half-way rose out of his chair.  Jesus, he knew what was coming next.  But Dena put a staying hand on his arm.  

Chrissie opened the cabinet door to the floor-to-ceiling pantry and stared stiffly into the interior.  Race sank back into his seat and prepared himself to kiss her out of another vacant nightmare.