Wildest Dreams (Thunder Point #9)(41)

Blake put his big hands on her cheeks and bent down, placing a gentle kiss on her brow. “And you’re a good mother. I know this was hard for you. You were very strong, letting him set his own limits.”

“Oh, I don’t want him to set his own limits. You’re there, you’re the coach!”

“I’m only there to catch him if he falls,” Blake said. He ran one hand down her arm and briefly took her hand in his. “He’s going to do this. He’s going to do it on his own and the feeling that will give him will fuel him for years.”

And then he let go.

“Well,” she said a little nervously. “You know what you’re doing. I just wanted to say thank you.”

“Anything you need, Lin Su. Just let me know.”

* * *

It was just as she remembered—a shiver that ran right up her back to the base of her neck, a fullness in the breast and a little gasp on her lips. It was the way a desired man’s first touch reached inside a woman and filled her with expectation and excitement. Her senses were consumed with the scent of him—soap and wind and musk and a little of the salt in the air. He had that unique scent that never seemed to change; if he was sweaty from exertion it only magnified his scent. His sweat, she had already noticed, smelled clean. How was that possible?

Lin Su was not that surprised. She was a bird in a snare. From the first moment she laid eyes on him she had been stimulated and intrigued. Then he became their hero and the intrigue took on speed. When a man protects you and your child, he owns a part of your soul. But then when he touches you with affection, he takes a piece of your heart.

She wished to ignore him and feel nothing but it would be difficult. After all, he embodied the qualities she admired most—strength, kindness, tenderness and power. And there was courage—he chased down those thugs to get her meager treasures. Maybe it was his foolishness she admired? She didn’t swoon for gladiators but she had a huge respect for a winning spirit, for a man willing to test his abilities. She happened to like his fearlessness. And she appreciated his humility. He wasn’t trying to win her with muscle but with softness.

He probably wasn’t trying to win her at all, but a part of her was won. He might not know that, of course. And if it was up to her, he wouldn’t know!

Well, she was good at concealing her emotions; she always had been. She knew how to take small steps and move with an economy of motion. Her older sisters would tease her and call her “little geisha.” She liked to think her mother had walked, talked and moved in the same way. It was also a holdover from her early childhood fears, from that time she was trying so hard to be small and invisible.

It would be hard to remain aloof, especially with Charlie spending so much time with him. It would be wrong to remain aloof. He deserved her gratitude and friendliness.

She would make sure he thought she was open and agreeable. She would laugh at his amusing comments and express her appreciation. But she would not be alone with him when the lights were turned low and he was feeling affectionate.

It would be dangerous.

* * *

Blake was waiting in the baggage area of the Eugene airport right after lunch. He had already secured a cart for the bags—Gretchen Tyrene would bring a lot. She had equipment and supplies she liked to tote everywhere. Sometimes he thought it gave her credibility more than served her needs. All he really needed for his own training was a stopwatch, a distance calculator, a heartbeat monitor, wet suit and bike. He had a lot of fancy equipment in his gym—he liked testing it and testing his readings to gauge the impact on his race. But he never carried all these things to races.

But he didn’t travel light, either. There were the special dietary supplements, the bike plus repair kit and spare parts, the clothes and shoes. The bike was always a big issue. It was specially designed and worth a lot of money. He liked to watch it loaded, something that gave airlines fits. Always a hassle.

Gretchen was walking toward him, tall and long-legged in her tight jeans. Heads turned as she passed by. She wore platform shoes and a leather jacket and her blond hair was cropped short and sexy. She had a healthy tan.

She was a runner but she didn’t have a runner’s body. Oh, she was slim, but she had good-size breasts and a nice ass. Gretchen was more of a trainer with a sculpted body than athlete made up of bone and sinew. But she had endurance, he’d give her that. She could almost keep up with him on a run.

When she saw him, she beamed. He’d last seen her a few months ago; she hadn’t joined him in Sydney for his last race. She put her arms around his neck. “I’ve missed you!” She held him close for a moment and he reciprocated, embracing her. But he knew at the first contact. She was thinking about sex.

“We’re in touch almost every day,” he said.

“It’s not the same as seeing you.”

“We’re going to be busy. This isn’t exactly a pivotal race but it’s important.”

The luggage carousel started turning. There weren’t that many people waiting and he recognized the large red trunk. Then came her red duffel. He started loading them onto the luggage cart. A third bag appeared a few minutes later and finally the bike bag, an enormous contraption that padded and protected the vital parts. And then, surprisingly, a second bike bag. One bag was red and one was black.

He peered at her. “Couldn’t make up your mind?”