Something to Prove Read online

  She didn’t even see her own treachery. And he was too far engaged with her to have the heart to rip off her scabs to show it to her. He’d tried, down in the kitchen this morning, but at the end he couldn’t go for the jugular.

  He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, and that was his problem.

  His phone vibrated on the bench and he stared at it. The email with the attachment for Amanda’s article was on that phone, though he hadn’t brought himself to read it yet. Harrison had sent it this morning along with a message demanding to know where the hell Brody was.

  Brody had sent Harrison exactly one message back: Avalanche warning, pass is closed, staying at H. Zimmerman’s place.

  He hadn’t mentioned that Hans wasn’t present and Brody was, in fact, alone with “that reporter.” But Harrison wasn’t stupid; he would figure it out soon enough.

  Bzzzt. The phone jumped on the bench.

  He’d be damned if Harrison added his smarmy presence to another meeting with him and Amanda. What they decided was between him and her, personal. It was no longer Harrison’s call. He shut off the phone.

  And he would keep it shut off, for the duration. Because it was time he made his own calls. He hadn’t come back to the tour to be jerked around, not by his agent, and certainly not by the woman he was beginning to care for. If he wanted to know what she hoped to accomplish with him, both short-term and long, then an article about baseball players wasn’t going to tell him anything.

  She was.

  He was taking her to the top of the black diamond slope and making her show him her intentions. Now.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  AMANDA LINGERED IN THE DOORWAY, watching Brody toss his phone into a duffel bag. She hoped he’d read her article and was ready to finish their business together. She didn’t think she could take this tension between what she needed in her professional life and what she wanted in her personal life much longer. After sifting through everything Jeannie had said, she was ready to take a chance.

  With butterflies in her stomach, Amanda entered Brody’s domain, a small gym with mirrored walls and a bank of windows overlooking the mountains. Brody sat on a workout bench wearing only his gym shorts, his chest glistening with sweat and power. No wonder she couldn’t concentrate on her internet search upstairs.

  She tapped his knee to get his attention from the iPod he wore. She ached to drift her fingers over his smooth, well-built thighs, but that was forbidden fruit.

  Pulling off his earphones, Brody stood. One look at her and his eyes burned. He smelled so good, like himself and those powerful, unique pheromones of his that constantly drew her to him. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said, his voice sounding gritty, “because there’s something I need to say to you.”

  “Y-yeah. Me, too.”

  He stalked forward and she backed up, two slow, stuttering steps that ended with her behind pressed against the mirror. While her whole body seemed to tingle with anticipation, he leaned over her, one hand splayed above her head, the other dangling at his side. “Are you finished digging into whatever dirt you can find about me?”

  “I…” Did he mean researching him? “Y-you’re mistaken, that’s not what I was doing in Sarah’s office.” She glanced down, swallowing, at his bare washboard stomach just inches from hers. Unable to resist, she stroked her fingertips to the muscles that ridged it.

  Bad move. He clasped her hand and snapped it against the mirror, holding it there like a handcuff.

  Her heart beat wildly. They really weren’t supposed to be doing this. Yet, she couldn’t stop. She pressed closer to him, almost touching.

  “What do you want from me, Amanda?”

  “I…want us to get our interview out of the way.”

  “This is my interview now. And I want to know what will happen if your article never gets written?”

  She blinked as if he’d thrown cold water on her. “What?”

  He made a guttural laugh. “Answer my question.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “I am, and this is the last time I’ll ask you.”

  What was he doing? Did he mean to seduce her from her goal?

  She pushed at him, trying to understand, but he dropped his hand from the mirror and slid both hands under her sweater, his palms flat on her abdomen. She gasped, but she didn’t pull away.

  “What will happen to you if I don’t give you what you need?” he demanded.

  The breath shuddered out of her. In a way, with his hands touching her like that, he was giving her what she needed. More than anything, she wanted to lose herself in lovemaking and closeness with him again, but she couldn’t. Not yet.

  “I need this interview with you. We should do it tonight, before we both explode.”

  “If it’s the money…” He wet his lips and placed them on the sensitive pulse point beside her ear. “…tell me, sweetheart, and I’ll get you a check for any amount you want.”

  He thought he could buy her? She sidestepped his grasp. “You know this isn’t about money!”

  “What’s it about, then?” He dogged her, nibbling gently at her ear with his teeth until she leaned back against the mirror and let herself enjoy it. “Tell me why it’s so important to you.”

  “I…oh,” she moaned, surrendering to the wave of pleasure that swept from his mouth on her neck to her breasts. When he nuzzled her like that, he made her forget everything else, and her resolve melted like snow. “Please, I need to do this,” she whispered, her eyes drifting closed. “Like you need to ski.”

  He took his lips away, and she felt cool air. All she wanted was for him to kiss her again.

  “Not good enough,” he said, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. “If it was only the writing that mattered, you’d be like Sarah. You’d write blogs and newsletters and books.”

  She gasped. “Is that why you sent me to her office? To influence me?”

  “No.” His gaze bored into hers. “And I’m the one conducting this interview, sweetheart, not you. So answer my question.”

  She turned away, but his big hands caught her. Physically caught her by the waist and pulled her to him. There was sensual power in him, and he wasn’t afraid to use it. And yet…

  His eyes betrayed him. They were full of pain at what he was doing to her.

  “I can walk out of here now,” she said quietly. “You don’t hold me captive.”

  He nodded. “Same with me. There’s a village and a pensione a mile down the road. I could leave and you would never see me for the duration.” He laid his forehead against the mirror. “But I haven’t done that because you said…in the kitchen this morning…that this has gone beyond a job assignment for you.” He lifted his head and looked at her. “If that’s true, I need to know what Paradigm gives you.” His eyes were bleak. “What do they give you that I can’t?”

  Her mouth dropped open. He was hurt that she sought validation from her job instead of from him?

  His hands released her waist and fell to his side, giving her the answer.

  “Security,” she whispered, knowing she owed him honesty, at least. “Working for Paradigm gives me security.”

  “So does love,” he ground out. “So does money.”

  He wasn’t offering her love. She knew this. “Status,” she whispered again. “It brings me status.”

  He looked disgusted with her. “Do you mean fame?”

  “No! That doesn’t draw me.”

  “You want to be put on a pedestal? Treated well?” His face pained, he lowered his forehead to touch hers. “Because believe me, sweetheart, I can treat you well.”

  Didn’t she know it? Her mouth was so dry, she couldn’t speak. She wished she could rely solely on him. If only she could trust he would never turn on her the way others had.

  “What will happen if you lose this interview, Manda? I need to know.”

  She stepped away again, because she needed distance to make her point. “You know what I’ll lose because you already have it.” Though
maybe he was so used to it by now, he took it for granted. “Look at you, Mr. Hot Skier. Look at everything you have.”

  “This isn’t about me, it’s about you.” He pointed at her. “You interview people and expect them to be honest with you. Well, I expect the same in return.”

  “I’ve been nothing but honest with you!”

  “It’s hard to be interviewed, isn’t it?” He grasped her by the arms. “Tell me, sweetheart. Take a risk and spill it. What can this job give you that’s so important that you go crazy at the thought of it being taken away?”

  “Fine!” she nearly shouted. But she looked him straight in the eye. “Here’s what’s important to me—when you belong to something substantial—something big like Paradigm or the ski team or the record books—then people take you seriously. Other people—people like you—know you’re an equal to them. They can’t mess with you. They have to think twice because you have power, too. If they hurt you, you could hurt them right back.”

  He stared at her. “You would destroy me with your writing?”

  “No! I would never do that. Not to you.”

  “To who then? To your father?” At the face she made, he laughed bitterly. “It always comes down to him, doesn’t it? You want him to notice you and react to you, and this is the way you make him face you—”

  “No! Stop, that isn’t my goal!”

  “What is your goal? What kind of relationship do you expect from him?”

  She hugged her arms to her chest, suddenly feeling chilly. “Nothing this article can give.”

  He snorted. “Do you want him to call you up to chat? Ask you how your day was?”

  “No!”

  “Then what? Some people don’t have relationships with their parents. I don’t. It was my choice, and I’m fine with it. Why aren’t you fine with it?”

  “Because I have a sister!”

  “Jeannie?” He paused. “What does she have to do with it?”

  “She has a relationship with him,” Amanda cried. “She’s figured out a way to manage it! And I’d like that level of politeness, too. I’d like to be able to pick up the phone and call him if I need to. Is that so bad? I want to be able to sit at a table during a wedding reception with him and Jeannie and Massimo and Massimo’s family, and not have to run away and hide in embarrassment because my own father can’t be civil to me. I want him to be civil with me, too, Brody.”

  “And Paradigm will give you that?” Brody asked quietly.

  “No, Paradigm will not give me that. Only he can give me that, and it’ll never happen. Do you think I’m stupid? I know it’s impossible. The only thing Paradigm can give me is a bit of power to use against him so he can’t hurt me more. Hurt me, Brody, do you get that? If my mother had had something like that, then he wouldn’t have left her. He wouldn’t have refused her medical bills. Don’t you see? He wouldn’t have dared to.”

  Brody slowly nodded. “Your promotion is an insurance policy for you.”

  “Yes! You understand!”

  “And you need it?” he asked. “You need this insurance policy?”

  “Yes!” She nodded, blinking away the emotion that sat heavy on her, and hugging her arms to her chest even tighter. It was so cold in this room without a fireplace. So cold without Brody standing close to her. “Yes, I need it.”

  He reached down and retrieved his sweat jacket. “Then I’m sorry I can’t give it to you.”

  “What?” She blinked at him, but he had turned to load his duffel bag with his gear.

  “I can’t help you, Amanda.” His voice was sadder this time.

  Her mouth fell open. For a moment she had trouble digesting what he was saying. “I don’t understand.”

  His face was kind as he hauled the duffel bag over his shoulder. “You didn’t think I could give it all up and stop giving a damn about my career, did you? Well, I’ve always known it would end someday. And I know what I’ll do next. The question is, what will you do when you have to find something besides your Paradigm insurance policy to keep you company at night?”

  She gaped at him. “You would do this to me?” she whispered.

  And from his face, she saw that he already had. To underscore the point, he turned his back on her and headed for the threshold. “Goodbye, Amanda.”

  “Wait!”

  But he didn’t turn around. Not this time.

  The weight of everything she’d just revealed to him seemed to strike her all at once. These were truths she never even admitted to herself. She’d been honest and raw to the point that she felt stripped and beaten—and she’d been the one to do it, not him. She’d wanted this promotion so badly that she’d blown away all the barriers between them, even the ones that kept her safe.

  She sank to her knees, her body shaking. A wave of terror, as powerful as an avalanche, swamped her.

  Don’t leave me alone! something primal within her screamed.

  But he had left her alone. And he wasn’t coming back.

  Slowly, she began to rock. A strange wail hiccupped from her. It didn’t sound like anything that could come from her. It sounded like a little kid crying.

  And then she felt Brody’s arms surround her and heard the thump of his duffel bag dropping to the floor. “Shhh, Manda,” he murmured, scooping her into his arms. “Don’t cry, it’s gonna be okay.”

  But how could it be okay? Like her mother being gone, it was simply too final.

  She lowered her head and sobbed into her hands, unable to talk or feel anything but this hole in her life. For her there was no alternative if she didn’t at least have her job. Even Jeannie would be an ocean away, nurturing her new family. The job was all Amanda had left.

  Guiding her to her feet, Brody drew her on the bench beside him. “Honey, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.”

  He tried to hold her, but she pushed him away. How could she have believed in him when she should have known not to trust anyone but herself?

  He tugged her close and she didn’t fight him this time, just because it felt better to be held by him, even temporarily.

  He cleared her hair from her eyes and wiped her tears with his thumb. “Shhh, it’s okay, we have a plan.” He nudged her chin to look at him. “We’ll take your angle. We’ll do your interview tonight.”

  It took a moment for his words to register. Then she froze inside. “You were b-bluffing me?”

  He shook his head. “This isn’t a game to me. It’s deadly serious.”

  “Then you are…s-such a jerk.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded dully. “I know.”

  She tried to smile because she was so pathetic and relieved he wasn’t leaving her.

  Because even if he’d refused to give her the interview, she’d still wanted him to stay.

  He smiled back at her sadly. “Will you do me a favor tonight, sweetheart?”

  “Wh-what?”

  “Remember how you felt just now. Because that’s how it’s gonna be for me when I have to sit and tell you things I don’t want to think about.”

  She let his words sink in. What she had just gone through had hurt, horribly. She didn’t want anyone to suffer through that pain, most especially him.

  Amanda leaned her forehead against his chest. Brody’s skin felt cool and clammy. He was emotionally torn up inside, too.

  And he was letting her see it. How many people did she know who were brave enough to expose their vulnerabilities to another person, let alone a national magazine?

  Not one.

  Pulling away from her, he seemed to withdraw inside himself. She tried to make eye contact, to give him reassurance, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze.

  “There’s a price to this,” he said, staring at a spot on the floor. “I don’t know how I’m gonna be afterward. I might have to leave.”

  Numbness filled her chest. But what did she expect?

  “I need to take a shower.” He seemed embarrassed that she’d seen him so cut up. As she was embarrassed at having cried in front of him.
“Why don’t you go figure out a place to do this? Open some wine, pour us a glass.”

  “Brody, I am sorry.”

  “Yeah.” He smiled tightly. “Me, too.” But he stood without touching her. “We both need what we need. In the end, I guess neither of us can escape that.”

  A HALF HOUR LATER, Amanda slumped against the hard edge of the kitchen counter and struggled to open a bottle of red wine.

  The corkscrew slipped and fell to the tile. How could she compose herself? The interview wasn’t just hard for Brody, it was hard for her, too. It had fully struck her that tonight would be the most difficult thing she’d had to do in her professional career: interview a man she’d come to care about, deeply, on topics that were emotionally loaded to him.

  One misstep on her part, and he would shut down and walk away. By insisting he do the interview, she was stripping him bare.

  They were stripping each other bare. But the alternative was worse. She couldn’t contemplate having nothing left when she flew back to New York.

  Putting the wine bottle aside, she laid out the first step to her insurance policy, a neutral area in which to interview him, one that felt safe. She chose the sitting room off the kitchen. It had huge windows that faced the mountain, and Brody loved mountains. Plus, there was no door to the outside world through which he could impulsively leave.

  She rearranged the furniture, moving a couch to face the windows and propping fleece blankets at either end to cocoon him in case it got cold. She dragged away the coffee table and placed a hassock at one end so he could stretch his legs. Like a shrink’s office. God, this was awful.

  She checked the time: hours to kill, because he was taking a walk alone. Now what?

  Cook, Mandy. This was her mom’s voice. Amanda felt calm radiate through her. That was what Mom would do—she would create something nurturing for herself and the people she loved.

  It was so unfair. Why did Amanda’s needs have to butt square against what Brody needed? At any other time, in any other place, he might be the best man in the world for her. If he allowed himself to, maybe he could give her the love she needed. Maybe she could love him back, the way she’d been dreaming about.