Icecapade (6 page)

“
The hell
.” Noel’s normal pragmatism gave way to affronted male ego.

Infuriatingly though, the rope looped around Robert’s large gloved mitt was already being retracted. He held his other hand out. His own balance apparently unshakable. “Come on, Noel.

Let’s not waste any more time. You trying to Josh Lanyon

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climb down there is a very bad idea and you know it.”

Noel
. It sounded natural coming from Robert.

It sounded…nice. Which didn’t change the fact that he was totally incensed at being treated like he was helpless.

“No way. I can handle this. I just have to go slow. I’ve still got more experience than you have.”

“You have no idea of my experience. Now get up here.”

“You won’t fit through this opening.”

Robert laughed. “Now you’re being rude because you’re pissed off.”

Partly. Not entirely. Robert was going to be a tight fit. If he was in the least claustrophobic, it would be a no go.

“Chop chop. Little lost llama is waiting.”

“Oh for—” Noel slapped his gloved hand into Robert’s and let himself be drawn the rest of the way up. That change in angle and speed of movement sent his stomach plummeting and his balance skittering away. He had to close his eyes for a second, and that—as always—made it worse.

He stumbled up over the edge as Robert rose.

Noel reeled into Robert’s solid chest. A hard supportive arm fastened around him and for a moment he leaned there while the world went 60

Icecapade

spinning away. He could feel Robert’s heart pounding against his own through the canvas of his field jacket and the leather of Robert’s coat.

After a few seconds he became aware of Robert’s lips moving almost soundlessly against his ear. “If you think the earth moved just now, imagine what’ll happen when I fuck you.”

Noel’s head snapped up. He stared in wide-eyed disbelief. Had Robert…had he really whispered that or was Noel dreaming? Maybe Noel had slipped and knocked himself out because there was absolutely nothing to read on Robert’s face. Nothing but that funny glitter in his eyes.

Maybe Noel was finally losing it.

Or maybe Robert really
had
made the most astonishing statement Noel had ever heard.

Noel fumbled with the rope. He untied it, handed it over and watched, wordless, as Robert swiftly knotted the line with the ease of, yes, experience.

“You’re not dressed for climbing.”

“Now there you’re right,” Robert admitted.

“But as you’ve pointed out, it’s not that tough of a climb.”

He was going and that was that. Noel swallowed his other objections.

“Geronimo.” Robert’s impassive gaze held Noel’s as he leaned back against the rope and Josh Lanyon

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stepped off. Right before he completely disappeared over the edge, he winked.

Winked.

Noel nearly let the line slip through his hands.

What the…?

He recovered, saying, “Help me, Francis. I don’t trust that tree stump to hold.” Francis clambered over the rocks to hang onto the rope.

Robert’s weight was considerable even with the broken pine tree taking most of it.

Noel slowly played out the rope, tracking Robert’s progress in his mind. Even so, he was unprepared for when the rope went slack.

Noel and Francis went to the mouth of the crevasse, watching as Robert untied the rope, knelt, and fashioned the sling for the llama. He threaded the rope through the tarp rivets, drawing the plastic into a large sack. Immediately, the cria tried to poke its head out of the opening.

Robert took a couple of minutes to soothe the frightened animal, but with minimal success.

“Guys,” he called. “We’re losing our window of opportunity. If you’re going to pull her up, now’s the time.”

Midway up the cria began to fight to get out of the tarp.

Francis started squawking. Noel swore.

Together, hand over hand, they dragged the tarp up, doing their best to keep it from slamming into 62

Icecapade

the rough and rocky side of the fissure. The frightened animal kicked and wriggled to be free, bleating its terror. The adult llamas echoed its cries.

At last Noel and Francis hauled the tarp over the side and the cria fell out, struggling onto spindly legs and weaving as it ran off, barely missing tumbling back down the crevice. The mother llama trotted after it.

Noel interrupted Francis’s thanks. He leaned cautiously over the edge. Robert was climbing quickly and calmly. He was already more than halfway up.

“Here comes the rope.” Noel called.

“No. Save it. Nearly there.”

Noel watched tensely, but it really wasn’t a difficult climb for a guy in excellent shape who knew what he was doing—both of which perfectly described Robert.

In a another couple of minutes he was topside once more, out of breath but otherwise no worse for—

“You’re bleeding.” Noel frowned, watching tiny crimson drops fall to the snow.

“I sliced my palm on a rock climbing up.”

Robert wiped his hand on his charcoal trousers.

“It’s nothing.” He studied Noel’s expression and his mouth curved. “It really is nothing.”

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63

Noel nodded. He remembered what Robert had said before he’d gone down to rescue the cria.

Had he meant it? Or was Robert paying him back in mind games? The more time he spent with Robert, the more confused he felt.

Shoulder to shoulder, they waited as Daisy chased the llamas back across the meadow and through the fence. As the dog and llamas disappeared behind the trees, Francis trudged back across the snowy field.

They piled back in the truck and headed back to Noel’s.

***

The first aid kit was in the master bathroom, which meant leading Robert through Noel’s bedroom. Robert looked around with unabashed curiosity at the large white iron bed, the box of shells on the old trunk at the foot of the bed, the ornate bird cage atop the huge mirrored green armoire. The sage green armoire was the very first piece of furniture Noel had purchased for this house. The first piece of furniture he had ever purchased for himself.

“You have eclectic tastes,” Robert commented.

“I particularly like the telescope pointing out your bedroom window.”

“It’s so that I can see the stars.”

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“That’s what they all say.”

Noel laughed. “Come on. The medical center is in here.”

The bathroom had retained some of its vintage charm, but the tub was pure modern convenience.

A deep sunken whirlpool with heated jets of water. You didn’t survive as many falls from heights as Noel had without picking up a significant amount of aches and pains along the way—and that didn’t even include the fall that had put him out of business once and for all.

“Nice,” Robert remarked. He lowered himself to the side of the tub and gingerly rolled up his sleeves. “All the conveniences of an expensive spa.”

That sarcastic note was back in his voice. Noel said, “Would you like a soak?”

Robert looked briefly nonplussed. “No.”

“It’s big enough for two.”

“It’s big enough for two with a couple of llamas thrown in.”

Noel fished the first aid kit out from beneath the sink and knelt down in front of Robert. He couldn’t help noticing that beneath the tailored, though now ruined, trouser front, Robert was hard. Impressively hard.

Maybe he
was
staring because Robert pointedly thrust his torn palm in front of Noel’s face. The cut was in the fleshy part of Robert’s Josh Lanyon

65

hand below the thumb. It wasn’t bad. Nothing requiring stitches. But it looked painful. Noel gently swabbed it with antiseptic.

“Does it hurt?”

“Only when I laugh,” Robert said dryly.

Noel huffed a laugh of his own. He looked up.

Robert’s face stilled.

“Did you mean it?” Noel asked in jerky monosyllables.

“Mean what?”

“What you said on the knoll.”

Robert’s eyebrows arched. “That you have no idea of my extensive experience?”

Noel stared. Robert’s expression was politely blank, even bland. He met Noel’s eyes with a look of mild interest.

Noel’s hope withered. He looked down, finished bandaging Robert’s hand. Robert had nice hands. Large but well-shaped. Strong hands, but Noel knew for a fact that they could be gentle, that they could be loving. He swallowed hard, carefully pressing the last bit of sticky tape to skin, and then bent his head and kissed the uninjured part of Robert’s palm.

Robert’s hand flexed, but he said nothing.

“There.” Noel tried to say it lightly, as if soothing a child’s hurt, but the word came out sounding stifled.

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Icecapade

He could feel Robert’s tension, though Robert still didn’t speak.

Noel rested on his heels. “Did you mean what you said about fucking me?” He stared at the torn knees of Robert’s trousers.

Even to himself he sounded strained.

“You fucked me, didn’t you?”

That time Noel couldn’t meet Robert’s eyes. It was true. True by every definition, and yet he’d never intended harm. He was just so…awful at relationships. Sex? No problem. Relationships? It was hard to imagine anyone worse than himself.

Unless it was maybe Robert?

He risked a quick look. Robert stared down at his bandaged hand, the place where Noel had kissed him. His expression was, as usual, indecipherable to Noel.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear it.”

Robert’s thick lashes flicked up. He regarded Noel steadily.

“And I’m not involved in any illegal activities.

None. I don’t even fudge my taxes.”

“Oh, I know. We audit your taxes.”

A chilling reminder that Uncle Sam, at least, did not forgive or forget.

Noel took a breath. Braced himself for the hardest fall of all. “If you did—do—want to…fuck me…that would be—”

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Robert cut across as though he hadn’t heard.

“What happened to you? Some kind of head injury? Something that affects your balance?”

Well, that was clear enough. Noel rose to wash his hands at the sink. The image of himself in the oval mirror didn’t raise his confidence: flattened fair hair, a day’s worth of beard, fatigue smudges under his green eyes. He looked as disreputable as Robert seemed to think he was. “I fractured my skull in a fall.”

He could see Robert’s reflection in the mirror.

He looked horrified. It was fleeting, but it was comfortingly genuine.

“I was on vacation. That’s the funny part. I was climbing in the Pyrenees.”

“What happened?”

“I actually don’t know. I’ve heard the official account, but as far as I know, one minute I was climbing, the next I was waking up in a French hospital. To make a long story short, my right inner ear was permanently damaged and that…was that.”

“You can’t do heights anymore.”

“I’m not complaining. Hell, I couldn’t stand up at first. I honest to God couldn’t tell which way was up. It felt like the earth was rolling under my feet. Then I got to the point where I could walk so long as I could run my hand against a wall or hang 68

Icecapade

onto something. Then it was stairs I couldn’t manage. Now, I’m mostly fine.”

“Except on ladders or rappelling down cliffsides.”

“Yep. That’s about right.”

“How the hell do you ride?”

“Sometimes I can't. But a horse's walking gait is a gentle, repetitive movement, similar to a human’s gait. Riding improved my balance, posture, mobility and reactive time. Obviously I don't compete anymore.” Swimming could also be weird and the common cold flattened him in more ways than one. “So you see, I’m not your cat burglar.”

Robert didn’t speak, didn’t react.

It was such an odd pause and it went on for so long that Noel didn’t know what to say. It would have helped if he knew how to read Robert, but Robert without Oakleys was more unreadable than most G-men with them.

“If you really have been watching me, you
can’t
think I’m still pulling jobs.”

Robert opened his mouth.

The doorbell chimed once more, cutting off whatever he might have replied.

Chapter Five

“That must be The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come,” Robert said.

Noel’s short laugh was more frustrated than amused. “I’ll be right back. Why don’t you run yourself a hot bath?” Personally, he’d have killed for a hot bath. Especially if he could have shared it with Robert.

“I have a feeling it’d be like bathing in Grand Central Station.” Robert rose, tugging down his shirt sleeves.

“It’s not usually like this. I go days without seeing or speaking to anyone.” That had been one of the big attractions when he’d first moved way out to the middle of nowhere. Although, he’d thought for some time it would be nice to have someone with whom to share this wealth of solitude.

The door bell was still ringing, interspersed with energetic thumps on the door. A dark misshapen form could be seen through the frosted glass panel.

“Damn.” Noel crossed to the front parlor and stared out the window. A yellow VW van was 70

Icecapade

parked in the front yard next to Robert’s sedan.

The windows were tinted dark, the side panels were painted with angels and fairies and mystical signs.

“What the hell is that?” Robert asked from right behind him. Noel concealed his start. Robert moved quietly for a big man—an ability Noel appreciated.

“Valspar.”

“What’s a Valspar?”

“Who. She’s a…well, I guess you’d call her a psychic.”

“I’m guessing I’d call her something else.”

Noel ruefully acknowledged that and went to the door.

“
Noel.
By all the powers that be. I was starting to think you weren’t home.” Valspar was a heavy set woman with yellow hair in dreadlocks and a face like a new moon. In a grand defiance of the elements, she wore a lace blouse and a black velvet skirt with red roses beneath a long green cape.

“I’m here,” Noel assured her, wishing it were otherwise.