His Golden Heart (29 page)

Wanting to show her he could walk on his own, Beau left his cane behind, and got out of the car. Shayna hurried across the lot, heading for employee parking. She appeared unaware that he was anywhere nearby. Beau limped along trying to catch up with her.

“Shayna,” he called, realizing there was no way he would.

She appeared not to have heard him. She’d gotten her keys out, and the lights on her car flashed briefly as she punched the remote button.

“Shayna,” Beau called again.

This time she turned toward him.

“Beau, what are you doing here?” she greeted. “It’s not your day for therapy. Where’s your cane?”

She waited, staring at him. He approached, took her hand and pressed the palm to his lips. “I missed you. I figured if I just showed up you couldn’t say no to drinks and maybe dinner.”

“You’re not giving me much notice.”

“I know it’s last minute, but I do really need to talk to you, please.”

She appeared to debate. “Okay I’ll call home. Maybe I can convince my parents to go out to dinner and take Reggie with them.”

“That would be nice. We’ll take my car.”

“What do I do with mine?”

“Leave it parked here. We’ll get it later. Have you ever been to the Brown Palace Hotel?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“I’ll need to show you Denver then. Wait until you see the atrium lobby of Brown’s

We’ll have drinks there and decide what to do about dinner.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Shayna curled her fingers around his and followed him back to the car, and inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief. He’d made headway.

Beau put the Saab’s convertible roof down, and held the passenger door open to let Shayna slide in. Revving the engine, he careened out of the parking lot

She swatted his arm affectionately. “What’s with the show of testosterone?”

“I’m a downhill racer. I live on the edge,” he reminded her.

“And you were a very good one from what I read.”

“The best”

“Modest too,” Shayna said, biting her knuckles as he took a hairpin curve on two wheels.

Beau drove the speed limit in downtown Denver. The traffic in a town that never slept dictated that. He turned his keys over to a valet, took Shayna by the elbow, and led her into an airy but opulent lobby where customers reclined on red velvet sofas or high wingback chairs. Beau’s eyes settled on an older gentleman with faded jeans. His leather belt had an antique silver buckle. He wore a linen jacket and an expensive Stetson on his head. In another corner, a woman outfitted in an elegant suit and pearls held court with other ladies similarly dressed. Cow town meets Now town, a friend had once said, referring to Denver s hip night life, setting off a series of guffaws. Downtown Denver had turned in to a place to see and be seen.

Shayna pointed out the stained glass canopy up above. “God, is that beautiful.”

To their right was a bar, and Beau ushered her inside. They slid into a booth at the back, facing each other.

“So what’s going on?” she asked. “Why did we need to come here?”

“I’ll tell you in a minute. Let’s order.” Beau motioned a hovering server over and without consulting Shayna, he said, “A bottle of Moet, please.”

“Moet?” Shayna looked at him like he had three heads. “Are we celebrating something?”

“We’re celebrating us.”

“Us? What am I missing?”

He hoped this wasn’t going to be an issue between them. He was a take-charge man and wasn’t about to turn into a wuss overnight.

The bottle of Moet was placed in a silver bucket and rested between them. The cork popped and you could hear the fizzle. Their waiter made a gigantic production of pouring the bubbly.

“Celebrating something special?” he asked.

“Loving this woman.”

Shayna’s mouth opened and shut.

Beau waited until the man had left before clinking his glass against Shayna’s. “Here’s to our love,” he said.

“To getting to know each other better,” she countered, smiling at him, and leaving him wondering whether she was playing some game.

Insecurity kicked in. Shayna had recently admitted she loved him. They’d made mad passionate love together. Why was she backpedaling now?

“What’s wrong?” Shayna asked, interrupting his maudlin doubts. “You said you wanted to talk to me, so talk. I’m listening.”

Beau sipped his champagne, savoring the bubbles, and then swallowed. “I met with Miles Williams today.”

“And what did he say?” She leaned across the table of the booth giving him an eyeful of cleavage. A light citrus-like fragrance wafted his way. Now was not the time to think of holding her in his arms or of making love to her. Yet he wanted her with a ferocity that he’d never felt before. He could easily have taken her then and there.
Focus, Beau.

“And Miles said…” Shayna prompted.

“He made me promise to keep his name out of it. I’m violating his trust even telling you this.”

“I wouldn’t breathe a word. I swear, Brownies honor.” She held up a hand. Face flushed. Eyes shining in anticipation. “Come on, tell me what he said.”

“He feels certain I was sabotaged. He thinks that Josh and Peter were in it together, that between them both they came up with a plan to make sure I would be disqualified. He thinks that maybe the tension on my bindings was adjusted. You know the screws on your skis—”

“Yes, I know what you’re talking about,” Shayna said, excitedly. “I do ski. If someone adjusted those screws you’d crash and you’d never think to check because you’d just been skiing that morning.”

Beau gulped his champagne thinking this lady of his was incredibly bright. It was still hard to believe someone would want to sabotage him. “I fell right out of my skis. I was going at really high speeds,” he said.

Shayna stared at him over the rim of her glass, tears of outrage glistened in her eyes. “You could have been killed. I can’t believe people would be that evil. My God, what’s wrong with the world?”

Beau shrugged. One good thing had come out of this, he’d met Shayna.

“Bastards,” she muttered, downing her champagne.

“I don’t know for certain someone had it in for me,” Beau reminded her, remembering his earlier conversation. “Maybe I can find out”

“What do you plan to do?”

Beau refilled both of their glasses before saying, “I met a man at the rehabilitation center. His name is Lenox. He was telling me all about how Hill Of Dreams had given him a second chance to moonlight as a drummer. He works for UPS during the day.”

“That’s fortune smiling on you. Call him,” Shayna said excitedly. “Give him an approximate date of your stay in Salt Lake City; then give him your address. Maybe he can even look up the shipment date in his computer.”

Beau clinked his glass against hers. “Good idea. Let’s make dinner room service.”

“Why?”

Clearly she didn’t know where he was going. “You’ll have to go home tonight on account of Reggie and your parents. The drive back to my place is going to take time. We can take a room here and have dinner sent up.”

“Sound like there’s more than dinner you have in mind?” Shayna said giving him a wink.

“I’m suggesting dessert, Hill style.”

“Only if I can burn off calories,” Shayna teased.

Beau set his champagne flute down, stood, and offered Shayna his arm. “Shall we put your considerable talents to the test, Ms. DaCosta?” he asked, escorting her out.

On the way out they ran into, Chandra with a tall, olive-skinned man on her arm. She glared at them and then made a production of kissing the man. “You’re too good to me, Franco,” she said.

“Franco?” Shayna whispered as they hurried out “Now he sounds familiar.”

“He’s her Italian lover.” Beau had barely given his ex a glance. “That poor man has my condolences. The good thing is she’s no longer my problem. Hopefully you won’t make her ours.”

Chapter Twenty-four

Six stories up in the Brown Palace, Shayna lay stretched out under the covers. She watched Beau undress, enjoying the sensual way he slid off his loafers, stepped out of his jeans, and carefully folded them over a chair. He now had on only his black briefs and the brightly colored shirt, sporting the Polo logo. Shayna’s heart pounded as her eyes fastened on his strong thigh muscles and slightly rounded butt. He turned, smiled, and with his heart in his eyes, headed her way.

Shayna sat up in bed, deliberately letting the covers slide down. Their room service entrees, he’d notified her, would be delayed. Appetizers came first.

Beau’s glazed gray gaze settled on her bare breasts. He looked as if he might ravish her any moment. She stretched, letting the sheets slide even farther down. Let him feast.

As she’d expected, Beau quickly hopped onto the bed next to her. He reached across to draw her closer.

“I love you,” he said, gathering her in his arms. “I love the feel and smell of you.”

Shayna’s palm moved across his brush cut. The wiry bristles tickled her palm. Beau buried his face between her breasts, his moist tongue sliding between her cleavage, tracing patterns. She fingered the lobe, the one with the gold earring. “I love you, Beau,” she said.

Vocalizing feelings didn’t come easy to her. Love she’d come to associate with disillusionment and disenchantment. Love she’d associated with Michael. Time to get over him and move on. She began to unbutton Beau’s shirt and wove her fingers through his chest hairs. She found a nipple, and tweaked gently. His lips fastened on her breast and everything inside her pulsed.

Shayna drew his head even closer, allowing him to drink more deeply of her. One of his hands slid between her thighs and his fingers worked another kind of magic. She settled more firmly on his palm and began an exploration of her own. Her hands moved downward, sliding beneath his sexy black briefs to cup his buttocks, and then moved forward to circle his sex.

He gasped. “Easy, girl, I’m already close to exploding. Let’s take it slow.”

She laughed. “You said you were ready for me, now you’re backing down.”

Beau kissed her with passion, settling his tongue deep in her mouth. She took hold of the tip, teasing him mercilessly, pressing herself against him, turned on by the friction of chest hairs rubbing against her breasts. Beau pressed a thumb into her womanhood and worked the nub with a finger. That cool, wintery voice of his said, “Tell me when you’re ready, babe.”

Oh, God, was she ready. Ready for him. She was hot, off the chain, and vibrating for him. Even the Chinese red walls of the room quivered and twanged. He settled her on top of him again. Shayna moved around finding the right position so he could enter her. Beau was all over her breasts, laving and suckling them. She clamped her thighs together, successfully trapping his hand. Taking his jaw between her hands, she initiated the kiss.

Beau rolled on a condom and with a ferocity she didn’t expect, plunged into her. Shayna choked back a loud moan. He now had her rocking back and forth establishing a building rhythm. She nibbled his earlobes and licked at the sides of his throat. He dove deeper. Wrapping her legs around his back, she urged him to go faster and deeper.

The gasps she heard were theirs. The sighs of satisfaction hers.

“I can’t hold back any longer, babe,” Beau said, sounding like he was choking.

“I’m ready,” Shayna gasped. “Gawd how you make me feel!”

A guttural noise was his only response before the room folded like an accordion and her body found release. Sharp pinpoints of light floated before her eyes. She hurled over the top, shouting his name. Smells, sights, sounds, melding. Sensory overload, she’d heard it called.

Somewhere in this journey they’d found each other. It was she and Beau against the rest of the world; the two of them united by a common bond. Winners who’d lost and survived. Now they’d found each other.

* * *

Two days later, Beau decided a surprise visit to Peter might be in order. He’d debated just showing up on Joshua Vanderhorn’s doorstep but figured that, of the two men, Peter was more likely to break. The athlete’s address had been gotten from Miles, who’d been a guest in Peter’s home on more than one occasion. Beau had called Peter to verify he was home, hanging up when his teammate had answered. Beau parked the Saab half a block away and left his cane behind. Come hell or high water, he would make it there on his own two feet. He refused to act like a cripple.

The door was answered by Peter himself. He gaped at Beau. “My God, Hill, you’re walking.”

Beau planted his feet firmly, despite the fact his legs ached. He was taller than Peter by several inches and used that to his advantage. “Aren’t you going to ask me in?”

Peter stood aside to let him by. “Of course.”

Beau entered a masculine living room, black and gray being the predominant colors.

“What brings you here?” Peter asked, his unease manifesting itself in how he nibbled on his lower lip.

Beau took a seat on the black leather couch and placed one loafer on a denim-clad thigh. “I’m here for the truth, Peter.”

Openmouthed, Peter stared at him. “What truth?”