Three Marie Ferrarella Romances Box Set One (14 page)

Shane tried to draw herself up on her elbow and failed. Nick pushed her head back down.

“I’m not finished.”

“Would you have paid any attention to me if I were flat-chested?” Shane asked, disturbed by his comment.

His hands slipped beneath her breasts, cupping each one as he bent over and kissed the nape of her neck. “Lady, I would have paid attention to you if you were flat-chested, toothless, and losing your hair. It just would have taken me a little longer, that’s all. After all,” he said, turning her over to look at her face—and other parts. She saw the look of desire in his eyes as they slid over her body. Her nightgown was still tucked beneath her arms. “After all, visual aids do count for something. Look at me,” he ordered, sitting down next to her. “I know that if it weren’t for this face, I wouldn’t be where I am today. I’m not overly talented, just very, very lucky. If I looked like this,” he said, twisting his lips and pushing his nose over to one side with his forefinger, “I might be on the docks somewhere, unloading freight—and no one would know how wonderful I was inside,” and he grinned, then stretched out next to Shane.

“Oh, they’d know,” she assured him, raising her arms to him. He enveloped her in a warm embrace, his body resting familiarly next to hers. “Somehow that magic that’s you would come through—you’d earn enough money to have plastic surgery and wind up looking just the way you do now, the fantasy of millions of women.”

“I don’t care about millions of women,” he said, his eyes not quite as merry as they’d been a moment ago. “They’re just attracted to the cosmetic part, the part I have no control over. I care about a woman of judgment—someone who can see beyond that,” he explained, kissing her neck, bringing about a new surge of excitement to her. “I want to be part of her fantasies.” The kisses trailed up Shane’s chin, coming to a climax on her lips. The remaining aches her body felt melted away in the heat of her rising passion.

“Nick, I’m too sore to go on the slopes today,” Shane protested as Nick drew her out of bed nearly an hour later.

“I just checked out everything,” he informed her, pushing her toward the shower stall, “and it’s all in working order, lubed, and ready to go,” he added with a chuckle.

As soon as he withdrew his hand from the small of her back, Shane stopped moving, digging her toes in the throw rug to keep steadfast. “Yesterday was a disaster,” she reminded him.

“So,” he said, patting her rear, propelling her two steps on her way, “today’s got to be better.”

“Want to bet?” she asked, crossing her arms before her and turning defiantly in his direction.

Nick walked in ahead of her and turned on the water in the blue-tiled bathroom. He tested the temperature, then took hold of Shane’s hand and pulled her toward him.
 

“Talk about stubborn women,” he muttered playfully, stripping the nightgown off her. It floated like a cloud down to her feet. “When you fall off a horse, you’re supposed to climb right back up.”

“Fine,” she said. “Find me a horse and I’ll do it.”

There was no arguing with him, so she gave up and went into the shower. The cold water made her yap in surprise. “You’re trying to kill me,” she accused, above the sound of the running water.

“Just trying to revitalize you,” Nick said.

She looked back at his shimmering form, separated from her by the frosted glass of the shower stall. That, she thought, he had done very well only minutes ago. Silently she quickly scrubbed her body, trying not to think of the pains that were returning.

Nick was still leaning against the sink when she emerged a few moments later. There was no mistaking the glow of approval in his eyes. “Here, let me,” he said, taking the fluffy blue bath towel from her hands. With long, deliberate strokes, he dried her glistening body, rounding each curve slowly.

She tried to stand perfectly still, knowing he was teasing her. And she tried her best not to respond. She had more of a chance of becoming an Olympic skier overnight, she decided, wrapping her fingers in his thick dark hair as he bent his head. The strokes on her thighs felt more like caresses.

“You’re driving me crazy,” she said between gritted teeth.

“Good”—he laughed—“because the feeling is mutual.” He rose off his knees. “Now, be a good girl and get dressed,” he ordered, “before I change my mind and decide to keep you prisoner here all day.”

That
, Shane thought, struggling to raise her aching legs in order to get into her clothes,
would be far preferable to facing another skiing lesson
.

In the dining area, Shane and Nick were surrounded by several of the crew members. “What say we have that tournament, Nick?” one of the men suggested.

Shane was all for that. Anything to forgo having to mount skis again. She knew that since everyone wanted to win, no one would chose her for his side, and she’d be safe. At least, that was what she thought.

“But I can’t ski,” she protested vigorously when Nick chose her for his team.

“It’s not going to be just skiing,” Nick assured her.

“Terrific,” she muttered into her coffee. “Just how many ways are there to break your bones up here?”

“That’s what I like about you,” Nick said, patting her hand. “You’re so game to try everything.”

“It’s not that,” Shane complained as he took her by the arm and pulled her along after the departing crowd. A sea of ski jackets marched before them. “I just thought I’d reach the end of the month in one piece, ending this assignment with all the parts I had when I came into it.”

But that wasn’t strictly true either, she thought as Nick turned for a moment and gave her a strange, warm look. She didn’t have all the parts she’d started out with. She didn’t have her heart.

“I don’t know how to toboggan either,” Shane informed Nick as he stood at the crest of a small hill, pointing to the people he’d chosen for the first event. Shane eyed the toboggan skeptically.

“You know how to sit, don’t you?” he asked.

“Yes, but—“

“That’s all you have to do,” he told her. “The toboggan does the rest.”

She had her doubts that it was all that simple, but found it useless to argue. She allowed herself to be plunked down on the oversized sled, sitting right behind Nick.

“Wrap your legs on either side of me,” he instructed, turning his head slightly so that she might hear above the noise.

“So that’s why you chose me,” she said, enlightened.

“Never miss a chance,” he told her. “Everybody ready?” he called over his shoulder.

A cheer went up to tell him that they were.

“Okay, Benny, push!” he ordered, and Shane felt the toboggan tilt slightly, bending into the wind.

The rush of cold air licked greedily at her face, and she buried it against Nick’s back, wrapping her arms around him tightly and holding on for dear life. She had to admit that she liked the roller-coaster effect the ride had on the pit of her stomach. It felt strangely like the plummeting feeling she experienced when she and Nick made love.

The other team won.

“Rematch!” Nick hooted, cupping either side of his mouth with his black, fur-lined gloves. “I demand a rematch!” Amid groans and laughter, everyone trudged up the hill once more. Somehow, it looked a lot bigger this time than it had at first.

The process was repeated again.

And again.

“Enough!” cried the captain of the other team. “We win, and there’ll be no more rematches!” Cheers and muffled applause met his announcement. Some of it came from Nick’s side.

A skiing event was next, and this time Shane was allowed to stand on the sidelines and merely cheer her team on, which she did to the utmost of her ability. She found herself almost going hoarse as she watched Nick and the other team captain come barreling down the hill, masterfully maneuvering their skis past the obstacles that had been set up.

She held her breath as Nick took a near spill, but he recovered himself in time. He went on to win the event. Swept away by the mood of the crowd, Shane clapped wildly, despite her aching arms.

Nick skied over to her. Impulsively, she kissed him.

“Remind me to win more often,” he joked. He sounded slightly winded. “Help me off with these, please, I want to watch Pete,” he told her, referring to another member of his team.

“You’re going to be a hard act to follow,” Shane said, doing as he asked.

“I’m counting on it.” Shane looked up at him, not at all sure he was talking about the skiing competition. But his proud bronze head was turned from her. Shane kept her thoughts to herself as she rose to join him.

The small but boisterous ranks of The Lord High Protector cast dominated the slopes all morning and part of the afternoon. A large crowd of spectators gathered once word had spread that they were there. Tourists and serious skiers alike came to watch Nick Rutledge in action. Whenever his form wasn’t flying down the slopes, he was besieged by fans with requests for autographs and pictures. Shane watched quietly as she saw him comply with each request for an autograph, smiling genially. She wondered if the mob of fans realized how sharply it was cutting into his privacy.

The combined strain of competing and being mobbed by fans soon took its toll on Nick. She could see that he was growing tired. She turned to Scottie, who had joined her in Nick’s absence. “C’mon,” she told him, taking his hand, “I think your fearless leader needs rescuing.”

“What are you going to do?” he asked, allowing himself to be woven into the growing throng of people encircling Nick.

“Follow my lead,” she instructed, then raised her voice, trying to sound very official. “Thank you very much for coming, folks!” she said, straining her voice to be heard above the din.

Nick looked quizzically in her direction. He was standing with his arm around a heavyset giggling woman. Her royal-blue ski jacket made her look even wider than she was, and Shane wondered how Nick managed to get his arm all the way around.

Shane pushed her way forward, clearing the crowd away from Nick. “Mr. Rutledge has to be getting back now. He’s in the middle of filming, and this is all the time he has for a break.”

Protests greeted her words, but no one pressed to get any more pictures. Members of the crowd began to drift away, until Nick was able to follow Shane and Scottie out past the perimeter of the group.

“Very resourceful,” Nick whispered, going down the slope and toward the lodge.

“It looked as if you were going to be stuck all day,” Shane observed. “And you’re too polite to tell them to get lost.”

“That’s rather harsh,” Nick commented. “I’d never want them to get lost . . . just disappear for a bit now and then.”

“Is it always like this for you?” she asked as he pulled open the huge, ornately carved door for her and held it while she and Scottie walked in.

“No, usually it’s much worse,” he confessed. “At least I got one day of quiet out of it. In this business you learn to be thankful for that.”

“Life in a goldfish bowl.”

“Something like that,” Nick said. “Puts a strain on you at times.”

“You seem to be bearing up well,” she said as they made their way into the dining hall. A sea of heads turned toward them.

“I found a nice tranquilizer,” he said, the words spoken softly against her cheek.

“Uh-oh, here comes the second wave,” Scottie warned. Shane and Nick turned on their heels and left quickly, deciding to rely on room service for their dinner.

Chapter Ten

They left early the next morning, before conditions at the lodge became difficult. As it was, Shane was awakened at three in the morning by someone at the door who refused to go away until Nick gave her his autograph.

“I think you need a bodyguard at your door,” Shane had suggested sleepily when Nick returned to bed.

“Tell you what,” he said, sliding in close to her. Somewhere between the floor and the covers, Shane noticed that Nick had managed to shed his pajama bottoms again. “You guard my body for me tonight,” he proposed, with a fresh sparkle in his eyes.

Shane did more than guard it.

But the idea of a bodyguard did sound like a good one to her as they all but sneaked out of the lodge the next morning, trying to avoid being noticed. Nick’s world certainly did have its drawbacks, she thought as she snuggled close to him in the taxi bound for the airport. And it all went part and parcel with the man. She wondered if she could cope with it all and whether she could stand being part of the background if she gave up her career for him.

A new problem met them on their return to the set. Nick had only meant to stop by to pick up his copy of the script, which he had left in his trailer. Bowman apparently had preceded him to the set, and could be heard bellowing at some cowering gofer who had delivered a message.

“Sounds like all our little vacation did was improve John’s voice,” Nick said in a loud “aside” to Shane as they approached the director. The set was empty, and their words sounded strangely hollow, echoing about the cardboard interior of the Saxon castle that was Nick’s home in the movie. “What’s the trouble, John? The studio reroute the cameras to Hawaii?”

Bowman looked at Nick, disgust written over his lined brow. The gofer took the opportunity to retreat from the line of fire. Shane stood quietly by, paying minimal attention to the scene, cocooned in the ermine jacket Nick had given her. Her thoughts were on her own problems.

“No, the damned cameras are on their way,” he snapped.

“So? Why the sunny smile?” Nick prodded.

“It’s that damned girl!” Bowman rasped, chewing on still another cigar. He slapped his pockets for a match and came up empty. “Got a match?” he demanded of both of them.

Shane shook her head.

“Filthy habit, John,” Nick told him. “If you don’t give it up, you’ll only live to be ninety instead of a hundred.” Bowman thrust the unlit cigar back in his shirt pocket.
 

“What damned girl?” Nick asked casually. He leaned against the long stairway where his big dueling scene was to take place. The look on his face was patient.

“The short one—the one with the hair ...” he muttered, once more searching his pockets for a match.