Falling For His Proper Mistress (6 page)

“Consequences?” She swung around and stared at him
blankly. He'd almost broken her heart. Did that count? Or did that only rank as mere collateral damage and therefore…inconsequential?

“Pregnancy,” he said a trifle impatiently from the steaming tub as she continued to gaze at him.

Oh.
“I'm not pregnant.”

Thank heavens for that!

“Good.” He gave her a thin smile. “That's one complication neither of us need at this stage of our lives.”

Speak for yourself.
But Avery knew better than to voice her soul-deep yearning for a child…a family. Guy would never understand.

The water swirled as he rose. Avery's eyes widened, but she forced herself not to look away from the sight of the water droplets running down his chest…over his flat, muscled stomach. Despite everything he'd done, she really did still want him. God. She was not going to survive this.

“I almost forgot. Art was going to come along to the first of the balloon landings tomorrow—we do a champagne breakfast on landing and I have some ideas for a new menu.” Her breaking dismay must've shown on her face because Guy added with a mocking smile, “You don't need to come if you don't want.”

How early could it be?

“I'll be there,” she said, pursing her mouth. “What time?”

“The ascent is at dawn.” His grin deepened at her horrified groan. “I haven't forgotten you're not a morning person. Dress for comfort—jeans, boots and a jacket work best.”

In one bound he was over the edge of the hot tub. Avery didn't wait another second, she fled.

T
o Guy's surprise Avery was already waiting in the lobby early on Sunday morning, studying the framed photos of the celebrity guests that had been taken every season since the resort opened.

She must've sensed him because she swung around at his approach. To his surprise, the Avery who peered at him resembled a sleepy, fluffy owl rather than the svelte, petite doll he was more accustomed to. She was even wearing spectacles—something he'd never seen her don in daylight.

At his curious look, she said, “I didn't get enough sleep for my contact lenses to be comfortable. I'll put them in later.”

“You don't need them.”

He suspected she'd suffered lack of sleep for the same reason as he had. That quick coupling in the spa hadn't been nearly enough; he'd wanted her in his bed, all night long. Lust bolted through him. Just in time he stopped himself
from babbling that she looked just as beautiful with glasses as without.

Not flattery, but true, he realized with a slight sense of shock as he inspected her.

Wearing figure-hugging white jeans and a cropped denim jacket, she glowed with vitality. The glasses simply added a scholarly twist to the sexy package. The hint of studious, good girl added by the glasses only served to accentuate the simmering sexuality that her pouty mouth and curvaceous body radiated.

To his relief, the group booked to go ballooning trooped into the lobby, providing a much-needed distraction from just how much of his thoughts Avery consumed. But not before Guy took in the appreciative smile one of the men bestowed on her. A sharp pang of annoyance caused him to turn away, before he snarled at a guest of the resort.

Hot damn but he had it bad.

Shoving his hands into his jeans' pockets, Guy hunched his shoulders and headed through the open, double glass doors, past the sleepy doorman in blue-and-gold livery, and out into the crisp, cool dawn air. Autumn was not yet here, but soon it would be.

To one side of the Manor Lodge, on a wide concrete apron that doubled as a helipad, he made out the figures of three pilots and a few members of the chase crew tending to the colorful nylon envelopes spread out on the concrete, while wicker baskets waited for passengers. The rest of the chase crew, including the resort staff who would be attending to the state-of-the-art catering, stood around joking and chatting and drinking coffee from paper cups.

An engine-driven fan droned to life and the red envelope of the closest balloon began to inflate. Minutes later the burners started to hiss, heating the cold air, and the envelopes rose above the baskets amidst whoops of delight from the
guests. Twenty-odd guests quickly sorted themselves into three groups and entered the baskets to pose for last-minute photos and wave to well-wishers.

Once the first balloon started to ascend, the others swiftly followed.

“Isn't that simply stunning?”

Avery spoke from behind Guy as fingers of sunlight poked over the mountain ridge behind them and caressed the vivid balloons with morning light, brightening the dawn sky to a blaze of red, magenta and yellow.

Guy turned. The blue of her eyes was blinding, and her smile caused a fresh rush of heat. He swallowed. “You can go up one morning if you want,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse even to his own ears.

She shook her head. “Never in a million years. I'm afraid of heights.”

“You?” Guy gave a choke of laughter. “I can't imagine you afraid of anything.”

Although Avery might be delicate and fine-boned, she could be as fierce and fiery as a tigress with cubs. That thought caused him to grin—because Avery was the least maternal woman he'd ever met. It had been a major reason for his attraction to her back in New York. She was so focused on her career—which suited him just fine. He'd made a habit of steering clear of starry-eyed women with marriage written all over them in diamond-bright letters.

“I get dizzy,” she said with clear regret. “So you'll never catch me up there.”

“In a balloon you don't get that vertigo feeling.”

“Oh, sure.”

“Really! The ride is smoother than I can ever describe. You move with the wind. No swaying or jostling. So never say never.”

“Forget it, Guy!”

“Sometimes one needs to take risks, walk a little on the wild side.”

She took a step away from him and wrapped her arms around her stomach. “I've done some dumb things in my life, but this sounds too wild for me.”

Her face had closed up.

Was she talking about sleeping with Jeff…or what had happened last night between them? He had no intention of discussing Jeff—the anger hadn't yet settled. “I never pegged you for a ‘fraidy cat,'” he taunted gently in an effort to bridge the chasm that suddenly yawned between them.

“Too bad. You're not talking me into this.” She hunched her shoulders. “I'm too risk-averse.”

Risk-averse? Avery? Puzzled, he frowned at her. “Not sure I swallow that.”

She glowered at him. “Because I leapt into bed with you the first day we met? Not my smartest move, I'll admit. It's contaminated everything you think about me.”

Did she count their affair as one of the dumb mistakes she'd made? That offended him.

“Contaminated? Hardly!” He moved closer to her, and lowered his voice to a husky growl. “Hey, let me tell you, there was nothing wrong with what we did together in New York. It was one of the most memorable times of my life. And last night was pretty damned amazing, too.”

He wasn't lying.

He'd missed her, dammit.

Laying a hand along her cheek, he cupped it in his palm. “You're so honest in bed, there's none of the pretence women often play at.”

For a moment he thought she was going to fling herself into his arms. There was a luminous expression in her eyes that made his chest tighten in a way that was new…and more than a little disconcerting.

She started to say something, then she pulled away. “Not here, Guy, we're in public.”

Annoyance jabbed him at her stubborn insistence to keep him at a distance. “Are you too scared to let anyone know that we're—” he searched for a word to describe the scorching electricity they shared “—lovers?”

She snorted. “Lovers? That implies an intimacy we don't share.”

Her dismissal was like a burr beneath a quarterhorse's tail. “Nothing wrong with the pleasure we've shared. And which we could continue to share.” If she stopped being so darned pigheaded. But he didn't add that.

Nor did he point out that for someone as risk-averse as Avery claimed to be they'd taken a hell of a risk last night. It had been out of character for him—not because he feared risks, but because he took responsibility for his actions. All his actions. Last night was the first time in his life that he'd had sex without a condom—he'd never done that even in his most reckless teen years.

While he knew from their past that Avery protected herself against pregnancy, he'd risked his own health.

It wouldn't happen again. Ever. He didn't need the kind of consequences that might flow from such spur-of-the-moment stupidity.

But damn, it had been good….

Instead of looking at him, she tipped her head back. The early morning sun turned the ends of her eyelashes to gold. “I don't need to experience life from up there,” she said, changing the subject. “I can do it perfectly well with both feet on the ground.”

“Then you'll never see the fields rolling out under you, never touch the leaves on the treetops, nor see the elk grazing on the mountaintops—and that's losing out as far as I'm concerned.” From the set of her chin, he could see he didn't
appear to be getting anywhere. “If you tried it, you might find it worth it. The view is fantastic from up there—a whole different perspective. You can see for miles in every direction.”

“Sounds like you enjoy it.”

“I go every year during the festival.” Except that wasn't true. Not anymore. “At least, I used to take a ride every year,” he amended. “I haven't been home for a while.”

At last she looked at him, her scrutiny intense, making him shift uncomfortably.

“I was busy.” The unspoken question in her eyes caused him to prevaricate. “Come on, the chase crews are on the move.”

Striding across the concrete, he reached in his jeans' pocket for the keys to a black SUV with the name Jarrod Ridge emblazoned on the side. Once they were both inside he started the vehicle and pulled in behind the second minivan that contained the catering crew.

Avery was perched on the edge of her seat. The tight lines had left her mouth and he could sense her rising excitement. “Is the landing spot pre-arranged?”

Guy laughed. “If only! The crew in the first vehicle are in radio contact with the pilots and have a rough idea where the balloons will come down. But it's never exact because the pilots are at the mercy of the winds.”

She snorted. “And that's supposed to reassure me about going up there?”

“The pilots are very experienced—they're also in touch with air traffic control at the local airport.”

Avery fell silent for a few minutes. When she spoke again it was to sigh and say, “It is beautiful out here.”

Guy had to agree. The sun was rising quickly, illuminating the meadows in the valley and the jutting mountain peaks.
“Just wait a few weeks until fall arrives and the aspens turn gold—it's spectacular.”

“I'll be gone by then.”

Not if he had anything to do with it. Avery owed him—and he wasn't going to let her go until he was good and ready.

“We'll see,” he growled. “I'm still holding my breath.”

There was an uneasy pause.

Finally Avery broke it. “You clearly love it here. What kept you from returning all those years?”

So she intended to avoid the tension that bristled between them? Guy was itching for a confrontation…one that might explode into passion. Make her say yes. Maybe her course was wisest. For now.

Keeping his focus on the road, he said in the most even voice he could muster, “Work. After leaving school I studied haute cuisine in France, then worked for several years in London, before returning to the States to open Baratin. There wasn't time to come to Aspen.”

“‘The finest French restaurant on the east coast'. Or at least that's what
Cuisine
magazine called it.”

The accolades didn't ease Guy's guilt. “This past month was the longest I've spent home in almost two decades.”

Home, funny that he still thought of Jarrod Ridge as home. Yet he'd only returned because of the terms of his father's will. If he and his brothers and sisters didn't stay, they would lose out on their inheritance.

None of them were ready to forfeit that.

Her hand brushed his leg, hovered, then settled on his thigh. Oh, hell. His muscles clenched involuntarily under the tantalizing pressure of her fingertips.

“Guy, your father knew you loved him.”

Her words wiped out the pleasure her touch had bestowed. Unerringly, she'd honed in on the crux of his guilt and pain. “Did he? I'm not so sure.”

“You saw him before he died?”

“I was too late.”

And not for the first time.

He couldn't stand to see the pity in Avery's eyes. God help him if she saw all the way to his soul and the festering regret. If only…

“But you spoke to him while we were—” she hesitated “—together. I even took a message for you to call your dad.” She sounded rueful. “You know what? I never even realized I was talking to the legendary Donald Jarrod.”

Just as well.

Otherwise he might never have discovered that all Avery wanted was a man made of gold. She would've taken care to hide her avaricious streak from him, would never have gone after Jeff. He didn't voice the cynical thought. Instead he swung the SUV left into a lane lined with poplars.

“I saw my father not long before I met you. He came to New York.” Because Guy had refused to go to Aspen. “He wanted me to take over running all the bars and restaurants at Jarrod Ridge.” He gave a crooked smile. “I refused. Then he died. Now I'm doing what he asked, anyway.”

“And you wish you'd told him yes while he was alive.”

Bull's eye.

Guy swung the wheel, pulling the SUV onto the shoulder of the road, then turned in his seat to face her.

The understanding and empathy that glimmered in her eyes nearly undid him. He forced out a shuddering breath, and a heartbeat later he hauled her into his arms.

“Your father knows you loved him,” she murmured against his parka.

That uncertainty lay at the root of Guy's guilt. He'd resisted all his father's calls to return. Deep down he'd blamed his father for driving them apart after his mother's death. “I doubt
it—even though I tell myself that one day we'll meet again, I'm not even sure that I believe that either. But thanks.”

With a sigh, he set her away from him.

Then, narrowing his gaze until he located the minivans in the distance, he put the SUV back into gear and trod on the gas to close the gap.

“Guy, my parents died in a boating accident when I was a two-year-old.”

“I didn't know that.” She'd never told him that—he wondered what other vital, formative information she'd withheld.

“Uncle Art used to tell me I carried them with me, in my heart. They were with me all the time. But that worried me—I didn't want them in my heart, I wanted to know they were up there.” Avery pointed through the windshield to the blue sky overhead. “It's so perfect, so blue, so clear. How could there not be heaven and angels? I used to tell Uncle Art that one day I'd go there to visit them.”

So she still believed in angels and ever-after. How'd he missed this softer, more idealistic side to her? Guy wondered what other illusions she still clung to. “You wanted to visit them up there even though you're scared of heights?”