Merry and Bright(65)

With a smile that melted her resolve and very nearly her precious control, he led her inside the small lodge. “My brother runs the show here,” he said, waving at yet another group of women who called his name from across the large room. “I just help out when I can. We’ll get you all set up.”

The next thing she knew, he had her in borrowed gear and on skis from the demo shop. And then out on the slopes.

Having a ball.

Truthfully, much of her fun came from just watching Matt. The man was sheer poetry in motion, all clean lines and easy aggression, with a wild abandon that aroused her just looking at him. Who’d have thought such a sharp-witted, politically driven man could move like that?

After last night, she should have known.

She wondered what he thought of last night, but they didn’t talk about it. They just took the slopes with an easy camaraderie and laughter and . . . fun, and by the time the lifts closed two hours later, she felt chilled to the bone but exhilarated. For a few hours, she’d been like the people she’d seen in town, not alone . . . happy.

“Thanks,” she said when she’d turned her equipment back in and he’d put his board in his locker. “I really needed that.”

Standing in the lodge, he stroked a strand of hair off her face and smiled. “You’re cold. I have a cure for that, too.”

“I think you’ve cured me enough.”

“Come on, Cami. What’s the worst that could happen?”

That he would offer to warm her up, maybe in his bed, and she might be just weak enough to let him. And then she might not want to ever leave.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

She stared into his eyes. She’d seen them stormy and furious; she’d seen them soft and heated. They were somewhere in between now, filled with an honesty and affection that took her breath. Did she trust him? She knew she didn’t want to. “I wouldn’t follow you off a cliff, but at work . . . maybe I trust you there.”

He laughed. “A start, I suppose. What about personally? Do you trust me outside of work?”

Back to that jumping-off-a-cliff thing. “That’s more complicated.”

“Ah.” He nodded agreeably, then shook his head. “Why, exactly?”

“Well . . . you like women.”

“I believe that’s worked to your benefit.”

She blushed. “You like lots of women.”

“Yeah.” His smile faded. “I suppose that’s the rumor mill you’re referring to. You know, a lot of that is exaggerated.”

“How much of it?”

“What?”

“What percentage of all the women I’ve seen drooling over you is exaggerated?”

He paused. Considered carefully. Ran his tongue over his teeth.

“Thought so.” She searched her purse for her keys.

He reached for her hands to still them. “Should I judge you for your past?”

“No, but I haven’t slept with every single man in the free world.”

“Neither have I,” he said, and tried a grin. When she didn’t return it, he sighed. Rubbed his jaw. “Okay, listen. I’ve had a good time with life so far. I’ll admit that much. But I’m not afraid of commitment. Can you say the same?”

“Yes.” Maybe.

Probably.

Fine. Commitment made her nervous, a fact that was undoubtedly tied to her need to control every little issue. But she’d like to think she wouldn’t let that stand in the way of a real relationship.

“I really don’t see the problem here,” he said softly.

He wouldn’t. “We’re so fundamentally different.”

“You mean you being uptight, anal, and overly organized?”

She crossed her arms. “I would think people would love that about me.”

“Maybe I’ll love you in spite of it.”

She went utterly still. “What?”

“Not here,” he decided. “We’re not doing this here. Come on.”

He led her back through the lodge, across the icy parking lot, to the far side of the property where a couple of cabins faced the mountain vista. There was a driveway between them, and in it sat a truck and Matt’s Blazer.

“My brother’s,” he said, pointing to one cabin. “And mine,” he added, pointing to the other, opening the door, revealing a small but lovely living room accented all in wood. One wall was all windows, overlooking a white-capped peak, and another was filled with a stone fireplace. He had a Christmas tree in the corner, tall and beautifully simple, with white lights and red bows, but somehow it held more holiday spirit than anything she’d seen.

His couch looked like an old favorite, overstuffed and well used. A football lay on the floor, along with a pair of battered running shoes, a stack of newspapers toppled over, and a very neglected fern. Leaning against the far wall were several pairs of skis, two snowboards, and two pairs of boots. Warm and homey but definitely lived-in. Her fingers still itched to at least straighten the newspapers.

Or jump Matt.

“I’ll start a fire,” he said, putting an arm around her and pulling her in close to his big, warm body. “Come get comfortable.”

She couldn’t. Shouldn’t.

“I promise not to bite.” He rubbed his jaw to hers. “Unless you want me to.”