Risking It All (13 page)

Memphis has never had a committed relationship in his life.
He’ll end up hurting you more than anything Brooks has done.

At least you’d be happy for a while
.

By breaking not only Brooks’s heart but yours, as well, in the process
.

“Oh, would you shut up!” Kennedy screamed at herself.

The bathroom door cracked open and Memphis stuck his head out. Water dripped from his wet hair, landing on the floor.

“Did you say something?”

“Um, no?” It came out sounding like a question, and Kennedy cringed. All she needed was to be caught screaming at the voices in her head. That would look fucking fantastic.

“Oh. I thought I heard you yelling.”

Kennedy lifted her hands and forced a smile.

“Just me in here. Who would I be yelling at?”

“Right.” Memphis tilted his head toward the inside of the bathroom. “Why don’t you get in here and shower so we can go to breakfast.”

“Now?” she squeaked. “You’re still in there.”

His forehead furrowed.

“I’ll be out in a second,” he said. “Kennedy, what’s up with you? Since when does it bother you to shower with me in the bathroom?”

Since I want to rip the towel from around your waist and haul you in there with me.

Assuming he was wearing a towel.

 He was hiding behind the door making it impossible to know for sure. However, if he was hiding, then there was a pretty good chance he wasn’t wearing a towel. Who needed to hide when you were already covered up?

He was right, though. Even though they had never actually seen each other fully nude, being around each other when one was—like in the shower—had never bothered either of them. They didn’t walk around naked in each other’s company, but they were comfortable enough with each other and their friendship that that sort of thing wasn’t an issue.

Kennedy licked her lips, still staring at the door that hid his goods.

“Kennedy?”

She snapped her eyes back to his face and flushed.

“Um, sure. Shower. Breakfast. Sounds good,” she said.

Memphis gave her one more confused look before pulling his head back into the bathroom and shutting the door.

Kennedy mentally scolded herself as she crawled out of bed. She needed to get a grip, and not on any part of Memphis’s body. She squatted next to her suitcase and pulled out a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt to wear. She dug around in the bottom, trying to find the underwear she had stashed in there somewhere, all while lecturing herself on how she was not going to drool over Memphis or have dirty thoughts about him anymore. Enough was enough.

She stood, grabbed her clothes and toiletry bag off the floor, and waited by the bathroom for him to hurry up.

Kennedy leaned her head against the wall and repeated the mantra “no more fantasizing, no more illicit thoughts, no more drooling” over and over in her head.

Memphis opened the door, and Kennedy opened her eyes and looked at him, instantly wishing she hadn’t.

He stood there, dragging a towel through his wet hair, wearing blue jeans that sat low on his hips and no shirt. She watched as he dried his hair, the muscles in his arms and back bunching and rolling with his movements. She dropped her eyes to his stomach and pressed her lips together to stop herself from dragging her tongue over his skin. He didn’t have a six-pack —Kennedy couldn’t remember Memphis ever stepping foot into a gym, unlike most men his age—but his stomach was still flat and the narrow line of hair running from his navel southward almost made Kennedy swoon. Happy trails were her weakness.

Of course she’d seen him without his shirt on before, but things were different. Now she
really
saw him. She tried to swallow, but her tongue felt thick and her mouth was desert dry. Well, at least she didn’t have to worry about drooling. In that moment, staring at Memphis’s gym-virgin stomach, she thought well-defined abs were definitely overrated. He was naturally built.

“I feel like I should be in a butcher’s shop,” Memphis suddenly said.

Kennedy reluctantly dragged her eyes away from his stomach and glanced at his face.

“What?” She squeaked at getting caught ogling.

“The way you were looking at me . . . like a cheap piece of meat.”

Kennedy’s face flamed in embarrassment, and if it wasn’t for the teasing grin that widened with every second, she would have thought she’d offended him.

“I wasn’t—I mean, I didn’t . . . I was just—” She swallowed back her ramblings and shook her head. “I wasn’t gawking at you.”

“I don’t think I said gawking,” Memphis pondered with amusement. “But now that you mention it, gawking was more like it.”

Kennedy opened and closed her mouth, finally giving up on words. She huffed in annoyance and pushed past him into the safety of the bathroom, slamming the door in his laughing face.

She tossed her clothes and bag on the counter. Catching her reflection in the mirror, she rolled her eyes at her pathetic self.

“Nice one, Monroe,” she said to the image. “Nothing sexier than looking like a complete moron.”

She tore off her Snoopy top and matching bottoms, scowling at the adolescent clothing. No, nothing sexier than looking like a complete moron while dressed like a twelve-year-old. She had packed the pajamas because she loved them. They were comfortable and a lot more her style than the stupid lacy teddies Brooks liked her to wear. It wasn’t like she was here to impress Memphis with her nightwear, anyway. Besides, he’d seen her in all her cartoon glory before—had even bought her a few pairs himself—so why should it bother her now?

She cleared her head and stepped under the warm water. She washed quickly, knowing they were pressed for time if Memphis wanted to make it to breakfast before venturing out to take pictures of the sunrise.

She grabbed one of the towels off the rack and wrapped the soft cloth around her while she brushed her teeth. Her hair hung in a damp mess around her face, and she grimaced at the sight. Wet rat was just about as sexy as complete moron.

She grabbed the hair dryer, rushing through her morning routine. Women who wanted curly hair were crazy. It was nothing more than a pain in the ass—at least
she
thought as much. It wouldn’t be so bad if it was wavy, but no, she had tight curls, the kind you couldn’t brush or comb but had to use one of those annoying little picks. She kept it as short as she could, hanging just past her shoulders. Any shorter and it ended up one big poof, and she looked like an electrocuted poodle.

She had even straightened it once when she got sick to death of the curls. Two hours and a few singed ends later, she came out of the bathroom feeling like a totally different woman. Brooks had loved it, but Memphis had told her even though she looked great, he preferred her natural look. She never straightened it again.

Kennedy snorted at the memory as she pulled the boy shorts up her legs and over her hips. She wouldn’t even change her hair because of him. Pathetic. Really pathetic. She snapped her bra in place, then tugged her jeans on, and pulled the gray hoodie over her head.

She stuffed everything back into the small bag, picked her clothes up off the floor, and gave one last look in the mirror before stepping out.

Memphis was no longer in the bedroom, and she gave a small sigh of relief that she wouldn’t have to face his all-knowing grin right away. She dropped her clothes on the bed, placed the toiletry bag in her suitcase, and snatched her forgotten socks off the floor, sliding them onto her feet.

Kennedy left the bedroom and found Memphis kneeling by the front door, tightening the laces on his winter boots. He looked up when she approached him and nodded toward the living room.

“Your phone went off a few minutes ago.”

“My phone?” She wrinkled her nose and looked behind her. “I don’t remember leaving it out here.”

He shrugged, pulling the laces tighter.

“It’s with your purse.”

Kennedy moved to the couch and grabbed her coat off the back, eyeing her cell warily. She shoved her arms through the sleeves and zipped up the parka, all while staring at the phone.

If it was Brooks, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what he had to say at the moment, not after storming out of her apartment the last time she saw him. Her vacation hadn’t even really started yet and talking to him, or listening to a voice mail he left, would only frustrate her. If he had indeed apologized, she’d be upset that he couldn’t have done it before she left. If it was an I-wanted-to-check-in message, she’d be pissed he wasn’t apologizing and acting like what he did was fine.

Either way, listening to that message in her current frame of mind wouldn’t do any good.

If it was even him who called.

She scowled at the little voice and sighed as she walked over to the coffee table, grabbed the cell, and stuffed it in her pocket.

Kennedy turned around and saw Memphis watching her.

“What?” she asked.

He shook his head and shoved his hands in his gloves.

“Did I say anything?”

“You didn’t have to.” She moved to where he stood and pulled her boots on.

“You’re not going to check your messages?” he asked.

She straightened and pulled her gloves on also.

“I thought we were going to breakfast.” She fiddled with the gloves to avoid his eyes.

Memphis opened the door and let in the chilly morning air as he ushered her out. Kennedy buried her chin in her jacket collar and looked around at her surroundings as she waited for Memphis. She couldn’t wait until the sun was out so she could go exploring. She grinned to herself, inhaling the cold air through her nose a little too deeply, and coughed as it hit her lungs.

“Hurts if you’re not used to it, huh?” Memphis grinned at her as she finally caught her breath.

“Just a bit.” She wheezed, giving him a watery smile.

He grabbed her hand and led her to the main lodge, neither saying a word. They stomped the snow from their boots at the entrance before proceeding to the dining room. Just as they passed the front desk, a short stout man stepped out in front of them and stuck his hand out at Memphis.

“Mr. Adams,” he said, his lips twitching into a smile beneath his mustache.

“Mr. Bradley.” Memphis greeted him with a firm handshake. “I was hoping to run into you this morning.”

“Piper left a message saying you had arrived. I hope the trip was pleasant.” His eyes drifted to Kennedy and his smile widened. “This must be the missus.”

Kennedy opened her mouth to correct the man, but Memphis wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to his side.

“The one and only,” he said proudly.

The what?

Kennedy pinched his side, but he ignored her.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to have you here, Mrs. Adams,” Mr. Bradley told her, taking her hand between his beefy palms and giving it a welcoming squeeze.

Kennedy wanted to ignore the way her stomach flipped and her heart leapt at his words. She really did. But it would be like trying to ignore a tornado staring you right in the face. It was right there; ready to cause damage and overwhelming destruction no matter which way you ran. It was impossible to ignore.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Bradley,” she said, her voice no more than a whisper.

“I just had some questions of where I was allowed to photograph. Are there any places that are off-limits?” Memphis asked, bringing Bradley’s attention back to him.

“You are free to go where you please, Memphis. Although, I would ask that you give the employees their privacy upstairs. It’s their home away from home.”

“Of course. I do have some other questions, but Kennedy and I were just on our way to breakfast before heading out to catch the sunrise.”

“Oh, Memphis, if you’re looking for some spectacular pictures of that you need to be by the lake. It’s a breathtaking view.”

“And the lake is . . . ?”

“A few miles behind the resort. You can take one of our snowmobiles out there. But it’s a good fifteen-minute ride,” he added. “Best wait until tomorrow when you know you have the time.”

“We might just do that,” Memphis said, glancing down at Kennedy. “Well, if you’re around after breakfast I would like a chance to talk with you.”

“Of course. Anything you need.” He flashed them a smile before backing away and allowing them to continue on their way.

“Sunrise by a lake in Alaska,” Kennedy said out of earshot of Mr. Bradley . “How very romantic of my
husband
.”

“It is, isn’t it?” He winked at her as she slipped out of her jacket and draped it over the back of the chair.

“What’s up with that?” she asked.

Memphis ignored her and she followed him to the buffet, taking the plate he offered her and watched as he filled his own with a heaping pile of scrambled eggs, home fries and bacon. Kennedy opted for her usual breakfast, snatching a bagel and a small packet of cream cheese from a basket.

“That’s all you’re having?” Memphis glanced at her plate on the way back to the table.

“Not all of us can eat like a horse.” She always teased him about how much he ate; it had been a long-running joke between them since he had won a corndog-eating contest.

It was at a carnival ten years earlier, and she had entered his name when he bragged he could out eat the previous winner’s record of thirty-one corndogs. Memphis had sat at the concession booth with four other contestants, beaming from ear to ear when they placed the huge platter in front of him, gave her wink, and then dove in. With one corndog more than the year before, Memphis was declared the winner and spent the next two days in bed with stomach pains, swearing he was never going to eat again.

The vow only lasted as long as the stomach pains. 

Memphis grunted and dug into his plateful of food. Kennedy peeked at him while she spread cream cheese on her untoasted bagel.

“Why did you tell him I was your . . . wife?” she asked, barely able to get the last word out without sending her heart rate into overdrive.

Memphis paused with a forkful of egg halfway to his mouth and looked at her, silent until she met his piercing eyes.