Something to Prove Page 4

“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.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Amanda stood outside the rental shop by the ski lift to the bunny slope. Was she nuts? When she’d come down to the lobby to meet Brody she’d been fully determined to talk him out of his crazy plan. Never in a million years had she intended to actually go through with it.

  And now look at her. Her feet were encased in boots as heavy as Frankenstein’s clunkers, and the skis made a hollow pinging sound when she stomped on them.

  At least Brody had promised they wouldn’t tackle the difficult black diamond slopes. Her knees were shaking. Her hands were sweating inside her gloves, and she’d already dropped her ski poles twice. She was reminded why her ski-coach father had disgustedly given up on her years ago.

  But Brody leaned over, patiently buckling her feet into the bindings on her skis. The one sweet spot in the last twenty minutes was in watching this new side to him. As he leaned over, the muscular curve of his back was visible even beneath his black parka. He glanced up at her, his skin flushed from the cold air, his baby blues on fire, and a longing for something she couldn’t define washed over her.

  “How does that feel, Manda? Are you comfortable?”

  “If you call being strapped into a death contraption comfortable,” she joked.

  His brow crinkled. “What happened to the New Hampshire girl who used to ski as a kid?”

  “She moved to New York and discovered the subway and all-night taxi service.”

  He laughed and straightened, settling his dark, bad-ass sunglasses over his eyes. “Do you ever miss the fresh air? Or does concrete and smog make you happy?”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t handle it.”

  He smiled and guided her up the gentle slope toward the chairlift, his hand on her elbow. His touch, even through layers of clothing, sent heat flooding through her.

  She had officially lost her mind. “Uh, Brody, I wasn’t lying when I told you I don’t know how to ski anymore. Sorry.”

  He gave her a look that said he didn’t believe her. “You skied before. Once you learn, it never leaves your muscle memory.”

  “Then I must be the exception to the rule.” She hastened to keep up beside him. “Because the only memories I carry in my muscles are typing and the occasional yoga
class.”

  “You take yoga?” He gazed at her with interest.

  “Yep.” She nodded proudly. “Downward dog and the warrior pose. That I can do.”

  His mouth quirked. “I’d like to see that.”

  “Great. Then let’s go back to the hotel and forget this skiing stuff.”

  He shook his head slowly but his smile was wide. “Because you think you can’t do it anymore?”

  “I know I can’t. I’m no Jeannie Jensen, you know.”

  He stopped and pointed behind them. “If you can’t ski, Amanda, then what do you call that?”

  She blinked behind them at the dual trail of ski tracks in their wake. They’d covered about forty yards together across the snow. She hadn’t even realized.

  “You grew up in the mountains,” he said. “You don’t lose what was part of you, deep down.” He stamped his skis on the hard-packed snow. “And you can trust my professional opinion, because I’ve taught clinics with newbies in the sport. Some of them can’t go five yards without falling on their duffs. Obviously, you don’t have that problem.”

  She looked behind her again. The skis had shushed beneath her seemingly of their own accord. It had felt…natural. Beside him she’d flowed, without struggling and fighting the way she usually did.

  Could it really be an instinct from a long time ago that had lingered inside her without her even knowing it?

  She fell into silence as Brody helped her along the last few yards, easing her between the ropes of the corral line and distracting her with his dimples.

  She hated to admit that maybe he’d been right.

  But then the heavy clanking of the chairlift machinery drilled into her subconscious, and ever fiber in her body seized up and resisted.

  “Um, no. Just no, Brody.”

  “They have chairlifts in Deanfield, Amanda. I rode them often.”

  “I can’t remember the last time I went up in one of those things. Honestly.” She shook her head. “They’ve been erased from all my memories, muscle and brain.”

  “Then I’ll help you remember.” He guided her to the spot where skiers were supposed to stand, waiting for the chair that would bump beneath their backsides, scooping them onto their seats for the long, cold ride up the mountain.