Bachelor Auction (30 page)

hurried, she might just make it before Marcus

arrived. “Thank you.”

“I just have to check on something, and then we

can leave.”

“Please hurry. I’m starting to feel nauseous.”

He started to turn away then stopped, his smile

fading as his gaze shifted to something behind her.

She didn’t have to look to know what—or rather

who—he saw.

Strong fingers gripped her arm from behind.

“Are you okay?”

Marcus’s deep voice, husky with concern,

shattered all hope of escape. Pivoting carefully, she

saw the same apprehension radiating from his

emerald eyes. A rush of warmth spread all the way

to her frostbitten toes, but she ignored it, refusing to

be lured by false emotions. Hers or his.

He wasn’t concerned for her well-being. He

wanted answers and obviously wouldn’t let her out

of sight until he had them. But they were none of his

business.

She twisted her arm from his grasp. “I’m fine.

We were just having a little chat, but we’re all done

now. Aren’t we, Blake?”

He gave the poor medic a measuring glance then

dismissed him. “You ready then?”

“I thought you needed a ride.” Tilting his head to

one side, Blake frowned. “It’s not a good idea to ski

with one contact.”

“Contact?”

She blinked one eye in rapid succession. “It

must have rolled to the back of my eye. It’s in place

now. Sorry to bother you.”

Without a word to Marcus, she trudged to a

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small area of level ground, focusing on a nearby

thatch of evergreens and pines rather than the

precipice where Grant and Robyn waited only a few

feet away. Just the thought of joining them made the

imaginary nausea she’d complained about to Blake

real. She sucked in a calming breath and inhaled the

scent of pine, reminding her of the man beside her.

For once she was grateful for the distraction his

presence brought, just as she had been on the

airplane yesterday.

Geez, was that only yesterday?

“What was all that about?”

“Nothing.”

“It didn’t sound like nothing. He said you asked

for a lift. Are you sick?”

Okay, so maybe she wasn’t so grateful. “I’m fine.

Did you bring my pole?”

He passed it to her, and her hand shook as she

took it from him. His fingers manacled her wrist.

“You’re not fine. You’re trembling.”

Charlotte twisted free and tucked the pole under

her arm with its mate then tugged on her gloves

with a few quick jerks to hide her shaking hands.

She had to get rid of them if she wanted to make

another attempt at a ride on the medic’s

snowmobile. “I need to make a couple of

adjustments, but you three should go on. I’ll catch

up.”

Marcus turned to the waiting couple. “Go on

without us. We’ll meet you at the bottom.”

Robyn glanced longingly down the steep slope

that made Charlotte’s stomach heave. “Well, if

you’re sure.”

She nodded. “I promise I’ll be right behind you.”

“
We’ll
be right behind you,” Marcus interjected.

Her stomach sank as Grant and Robyn

disappeared over the edge of the mountain, leaving

her alone with Marcus, suspicion etched on his face.

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“All right. What’s going on?”

His voice echoed, not from the cavernous walls

of rock around them, but from inside her head. She

swallowed, hoping to clear her ears, but it didn’t

help.

Then his eyes grew wide. “Can you ski?”

“Yes.” Her answer came in a whisper, making

his frown deepen. She had to get a grip before she

totally lost it in front of him.

“You’re pale and shaking.”

“I’m cold.”
Probably from shock
.

He dropped his poles in the snow beside him and

shifted closer to slide his hands up her arms, gently

rubbing. “If you’re not sick and you know how to ski,

what’s the problem? Why did you need a ride? And

don’t tell me some lame story about a contact. I

know you don’t wear them.”

His soothing tone was a balm to her fragile

nerves as was the thumb that grazed back and forth

along her jaw. “Talk to me, Charlotte.”

She looked into his hypnotic eyes and recognized

the coaxing patience in them. Damn him and his

controlling nature. How dare he use it to seduce

answers from her when she was paralyzed by fear?

She thrust her chin forward and tossed her hair over

her shoulder. “If you must know, he was hot and

interested, and since you weren’t—ouch.”

His fingers dug into her arms. “Don’t go there.”

His anger sparked her own, and it felt a hell of a

lot better than the fear that threatened to

overwhelm her moments ago. She leaned into him.

“Jealous?”

“I’m not buying that crap anymore. You might

have flirted with him to get a ride, but something

else is going on.”

“Poor Marcus. Ever the suspicious one.”

He released her to run a hand over his face.

“Look, I know you’re mad about last night and you’re

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upset about Robyn giving all your secrets away, but

sooner or later we’re going to talk. About

everything.”

Like hell we are
. Straightening, she tossed

another shank of blonde hair over her shoulder.

“Fine. I have nothing to hide.”

“Then why have you been avoiding me?”

“Not everything is about you, Marcus.”

With that Charlotte pushed off and over the

edge of the first slope. Her anger vanished as she

sped down the vertical path. All thought of getting

away from Marcus went with it when she hit the

first mogul and her skis met air. The ground rushed

up to greet her, and the impact knocked her off

balance, but somehow she stayed on her feet.

The steepness increased as did her speed. Panic

grabbed her by the throat. She couldn’t breathe. And

forget snowplowing. Her muscles refused to obey

even the most instinctive commands.

“Charlotte, slow down.”

Risking a glance over her shoulder, she caught a

brief flash of Marcus’s silver parka a good distance

behind her. Just as she turned back around, one of

her poles was ripped from her hand. Flailing, she

veered to one side toward a stand of trees. The tip of

her ski dug deep in the snow, and she heard Marcus

yell her name as she flew forward.

Well, if she broke her neck, at least she wouldn’t

have to answer his questions.

****

jagged glass. Helpless to stop her, he could only

watch while she tumbled head over heels down the

steep slope. Her skis dislodged from her boots—she’d

lost her poles before her fall—and she rolled several

times to land perilously close to the thick trunk of a

cedar.

He raced forward, slicing over the snow, but felt

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as if he moved in slow motion and would never reach

her. Then all at once he was skidding to a halt and

popping loose from his skis. Falling to his knees

beside her, he caught the slippery ends of his nylon

gloves with his teeth to free his hands. “Charlotte,

are you all right?”

She didn’t answer but lay lifeless on her back,

one arm flung over her face, the other at her side.

Her legs were sprawled at natural angles. Nothing

looked broken, but there could be internal injuries.

He looked around for help, his mind suddenly

blank with fear. His heart, already thudding in his

chest, pumped jack-hammer fast. He could go for the

medic, but they’d come too far down the slope for

him to climb back up. Besides, he wouldn’t leave her.

A whimper brought his attention back around

and forced him to calm the panic that gripped him.

There was no one else. It was up to him.

“Charlotte, can you hear me?” Again no answer.

He ran a tentative hand up her lower leg, careful not

to move her.

She jerked when he reached her knee. “Don’t.”

Her voice sounded choked and watery. She kept

her arm over her eyes, but tears trickled from the

corners, down her temples, and into damp, ice-caked

hair. He applied light pressure to the spot he’d just

squeezed. “Does it hurt here?”

“No.”

“Where does it hurt?” He hated to think of her in

pain, wanted to take it all away, onto himself if he

could. “Is it your arm?” She hadn’t moved the one at

her side at all.

He had barely touched her again when she

slapped his hand away and tried to sit up. “I said,

don’t.”

He pressed a hand to her shoulder, holding her

down as gently as he could for fear of hurting her

further. “You shouldn’t move until we rule out

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injury.”

“I’m fine.” She shrugged from under his grasp

and pushed up to lean on one hand, angrily swiping

her cheeks with the other. “I just don’t want you to

touch me.”

Marcus sat back on his heels, relieved yet

uncertain of how to handle her outburst. She could

be trying to cover her pain by lashing out at him. He

was even more uncertain as to how to deal with her

tears. He’d suspected a softer side to Charlotte, but

until now it was only that. An abstract version of

her.

She curled her legs to one side and rose to her

hands and knees, moaning with every move.

“Here, let me—”

“I don’t need your help.”

At the glare she shot him, he pulled the hand

he’d instinctively extended. “Sorry.”

“You should be.” She began brushing powder

from her lank, matted hair. Her designer knit hat

was somewhere up the slope. “This is all your fault.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“If not for you, I’d be kicking back in front of a

cozy fire with hot chocolate and a good book. But no,

you have to control everything, forcing everyone to

do what you want to do.”

Confused by the accusation, but allowing for her

pain, Marcus pointed out, “You’re the one who

insisted we accept Robyn’s invitation.”

“Now, I’m stuck up here with no way down this

mountain,” she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken.

“I thought you said you weren’t hurt.”

“I’m not.”

“Then we can ski down. We’ll take it a little

slower to be on the safe side, but it shouldn’t take

long.” He stood and brushed off his knees. She

obviously wanted nothing else from him. He would

see her down then leave her alone. Maybe he would

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go home early. That way she could enjoy her visit

with Wylie and his fiancée.

He straightened to find her on her feet, hands

on hips and shaking her head. The look she gave

him was incredulous. “You don’t get it, do you?”

After having the life nearly scared out of him,

his patience was wearing a little thin. “It seems I’m

kind of slow when it comes to reading between the

lines these days so I guess you’ll have to spell it out

for me.”

“There’s no way I can ski down this mountain.”

One hand on his hip, he pointed up the slope.

“Do you mean you stood up there and lied to me

about being able to ski?”

“Skiing isn’t the problem.”

“Then what is?”

Chewing her lip, she stared at him, as if

debating with herself over whether to answer.

Finally, her watery gaze cut to the trees. “Yesterday,

you thought I was afraid of flying. It wasn’t the

flying. It was my fear of heights.”

“I don’t understand. You were—”

“Afraid of crashing, okay? It’s a long way down.”

She sniffed and ran a hand under her nose before

lifting her chin. “And it’s not that I don’t like to ski. I

do. I just prefer the bunny slope. I don’t get dizzy.”

“Are you telling me you came up here, on a slope

for well-seasoned skiers, a slope with not only

breakneck turns but almost ninety degree drop-offs,

knowing you’d have this reaction?” Marcus spoke

calmly and slowly despite the rage that consumed

him. When he thought about what could have

happened, he wanted to throttle her.

Her chin rose another notch. “Yes.”

“Of all the lame-brained, idiotic—You could