TWICE VICTORIOUS (14 page)

"Why?"

"Because you went to all that trouble to fix it." All the time he was spreading his
kisses across her cheeks, her brows, her temples. The faint, woodsy tang of his aftershave
reached her nostrils, carrying his own scent with it, so that she inhaled a part of him,
drawing it deep within her. "All I did was go to the deli," she admitted. "And we can eat
anywhere."

"You promised me a picnic," he said, releasing her, turning her with a gentle grip
on her shoulders. "So take me on a picnic."

His smile promised her more than a picnic before the day was over. Stell walked
ahead of him into the kitchen. "Okay, but if it rains, remember whose idea it was to
go."

"It won't rain."

"We're in Oregon. How can you say that?" She handed him the cooler full of soft
drinks, wine, and two decadent slices of cappuccino cheesecake.

He picked up the picnic basket she indicated. "Easy. I just open my mouth and the
words spill out." He winked at her. "It's supposed to clear off this afternoon."

"That's what they always say. And you know how often they are wrong."
Knowing he was behind her, she deliberately swung her hips in a sassy sway. She'd
deliberately worn clinging knit shorts. "Would you like to make a bet on the possibility of
rain today?"

"Not on your life!" Adam took the basket from her while she stopped to lock her
front door. "Stay there. I'll be right back."

She didn't. As soon as the door was secure, she started down the front steps,
wondering how long it would be before her hip didn't send harsh reminders that stairs were
not its favorite things.

"I told you to stay there, dammit." He swung her over his shoulder. "Are you
always this stubborn?"

"Put me down!" She pounded on his hips, gasping even as she laughed. "Darn it,
Adam! Put me down!" Her middle was across his shoulder, the breath jolting out of her
with each step he took.

He swatted her bottom. "Quiet, woman! Behave yourself."

"Adam, if you don't put me down this inst--" The world revolved around her as he
swung her to the ground, held her for a moment while she caught her breath and the world
quit spinning.

"You're down. Shall we go?" He bowed as he swung the door open for her. His
eyes were gleaming and his mouth twitching. This was the same man she had, just a few
weeks ago, thought of as being overly serious? He had to be a Gemini.

Once more Adam drove out the old Columbia Gorge Highway. Stell sat quietly
beside him, watching the easy way he handled the powerful car, admiring the way his pale
eyebrows caught the sunlight, studying the incredibly complex convolutions of his ears,
liking everything about him. Taken a little at a time, his looks were unusual, but not
spectacular, sort of a younger, softer Clint Eastwood. The indentations in his cheeks were
too long to be called dimples, but they served the same purpose, making his smile
heart-meltingly sweet. His eyes crinkled almost closed when he smiled, too. All in all, she
thought he was the most handsome man she'd ever met.

The sexiest, too. She reached across the car and rested her hand on his bare thigh.
Under her touch, the muscles tensed, tightened. She grinned at the twitch of his lips,
knowing full well what she'd done to him. He couldn't touch her, either, without her body
warming in anticipation. Leaning back, she almost purred with pleasure. Today she
wouldn't think about the future. Today she'd simply enjoy Adam, live only for the moment.
And whatever happened, someday she'd look back and be glad she had lived these
wonderful hours, these halcyon days with him.

PRIME (pronounced 'preem'): a race within a race, with a prize for the
first rider who covers a certain distance or reaches a certain point.

"Are we there yet?" she said, not opening her eyes, but feeling the car slow and
turn.

"Almost. Hungry?"

"Starved."
But not for food.
Anticipation tingled through her, recalling
Christmas eves and birthday mornings.

The sun filtered through the spring-green maple leaves, sparkled on the water.
Wahkeena Creek splashed and sang, its liquid sound disguising the white noise of the
freeway, only a few hundred yards away.

They stood watching tons of water cascade down the steep, rocky channel. It was
a sight that never failed to soothe Stell, yet today her feeling was one of excitement rather
than ease.

"I want to walk up to the falls," she said. "Have you ever seen them up
close?"

"Should you?" His hands were clasped loosely around her waist and his breath
was warm on her neck. "I thought you weren't supposed to walk far."

"I'm up to a quarter-mile every day," she said, honestly proud of her
accomplishment, but not mentioning that it was all on level ground. The trail didn't look all
that steep, and it was paved.

What else she wanted to do would have to wait until they were alone.
Today
, her heart sang.
Today
, her body demanded.

He took her proffered hand. "I'm game. But we'll take it slow, okay?"

"We can stop if it gets too bad."

He slipped his arm around her waist. "Or I can carry you."

"No way! You're not slinging me over your shoulder again!"

He waggled his brows suggestively. "That wasn't quite what I had in mind."

"Hold that thought." Stell breathed deeply, feeling the clean, cool air flood her
body and cleanse, filling her with scents of springtime. "First I want to work up an
appetite."

A ground fire several years back had left tree trunks charred. Blackened patches of
bark still showed here and there among the lush growth of ferns and low shrubs. Pink and
white flowers peeked from the undergrowth, reminding her that nature never gives up, no
matter how devastating the occurrence.

Neither would she.

By the time they reached the bridge overlooking Wahkeena Falls, the light had
grown dim. Instead of sparkling in sunlight, the water was lead colored. The woods around
them were dark, shadowy, and silent, and the air was damp, presaging rain. She shivered,
wishing she'd brought jeans to slip into.

"What was that you said about a weather forecast?" Stell leaned slightly against
Adam as she felt her way carefully back down the steep trail.

His arm tightened around her. "Are you one of those women who says, 'I told you
so?'"

"Only when I'm right." She stifled a gasp as the pain in her hip became a sharp
knife down her thigh. Each step was torture, but she wasn't going to admit defeat. If she
couldn't manage a little trail, how could she ever ride?

The sky fell. Without warning, huge raindrops pelted down, drenching them both
within seconds. Stell squealed with the sudden shock of cold water soaking through her
thin cotton shirt, running down her bare legs.

Without warning she was cradled in Adam's arms, held closely against his chest,
bouncing as he trotted down the trail.

"Adam! Slow down! You're going to kill yourself." She was way too heavy for
him to carry so far, let alone run while doing it.

He slowed, his breath coming in short gasps. "I guess it doesn't matter anyway.
We're not going to get any wetter." His rain-darkened hair hung in wavy hanks across his
forehead, dripping into his eyes.

Aware that she must resemble a drowned rat as much as he, Stell couldn't help but
giggle. "If I'd known we were going swimming, I'd have brought my suit." She relaxed
against him, grateful for his warmth, liking the feeling of being protected and
cherished.

The rain showed no signs of letting up by the time they reached the picnic area.
Adam let her down at the table where they'd left their cooler. "Can you make it now?"

"Sure. I'm fine," she said, not wanting to admit just how grateful she was that he'd
carried her down. Without his help, she might have had to stay on the trail forever. "Can
you manage the cooler and the basket? I'll take care of this." Peeling the wet plastic cover
from the rough picnic table, she held it as high as she could to let the water drain off.

Adam made a dash to the car. Stell wasn't sure she could walk that far, let alone do
anything like dashing. The car was a good hundred yards away, along an uneven trail.
Gingerly she took one step, then another. Sweat joined the rain still trickling into her eyes,
blinding her.

"Idiot!" Adam again swung her over his shoulder. "There's nothing wrong with
asking for help when you need it." He set her down beside the car. Enclosing her with both
arms braced on the roof, he glowered at her. "Don't you think I could tell you were
hurting? Good God, woman! What are you trying to prove anyhow?"

She looked into his pale blue eyes, seeing how they sparked with anger. "I thought
I could...."

"You think too damn much!" He dropped his arms and swung the door open. "Get
in."

Stell got.

Stubborn little fool!
Adam fulminated to himself all the way back to
Portland. It was a good thing Stell sat quietly beside him, because if she'd opened her
mouth, he probably would have bitten her head off.

He knew her leg wasn't getting any better. And he knew why. She was so damn
determined to get back on her bicycle that she wasn't going to let anything stop her, even
the threat of permanent damage.

He'd bet there was a very real chance she was pushing the limits set by her P.T.,
even though she might believe she was following his instructions implicitly. He would
have, once, had something happened to put him on the bench for any length of time.

Stupid athletes! So single-minded, so tunnel-visioned that they couldn't see
anything beyond the narrow path to victory. So selfish, not letting anything or anyone
become important to them that wouldn't help them win.

He was glad he'd learned better in time to let him build a life outside of the Salle.
If only... no, there wasn't room in his life for "if onlies." He was successful. He was
satisfied.

He braked to an abrupt stop in front of Stell's house. What a disaster. He'd had
such great hopes for today. The picnic would have been a prelude, kindling the fires for
another kind of feast later. After a day together, they would have been in perfect rapport,
both ready for the night.

He became slowly aware that Stell was speaking. "...in front of the fire."

"Excuse me?"

"I said, it may not be as rustic, but we could always build a fire and have our
picnic on the living room floor." Her voice was hesitant, as if she weren't sure she really
wanted to spend any more time with him today.

He couldn't blame her. Ever since he'd seen the pain on her face, watched her
stubbornly making her impossible way down that steep trail, he'd been angry, furious at her
abuse of such a perfect body.

He forced himself to smile. "That sounds nice. And from the looks of that sky,
we're not going to see the sun again for a while." Perhaps they could recapture the perfect
harmony they'd shared for a little while before the rain.

To his utter amazement, Stell waited for him to open her door, allowed him to
carry her up the steps to her front door without argument. Her leg had to be extremely
painful for her to be so meek. He returned for the picnic paraphernalia while she opened
the door.

The rain here was the steady, mist-like fall that was so much more typical of
Portland. He shivered in the light breeze of his movement, hoping Stell had a large
sweatshirt or something he could borrow.

He shivered again. Damn, but he was cold!

The fire was still a few tentative flickers along the logs when he heard her on the
stairs. He rubbed his hands briskly in its hesitant warmth. What he really needed was
coffee, hot and strong.

He turned as she came limping through the door. No, what he really needed was
Stell, hot and strong. He started toward her.

"Here," she said, tossing something dark and floppy toward him. "The shower's
across the hall, there." She gestured. "Be careful. I swear the water's hotter than
upstairs."

A shower sounded better than anything he could think of. First.

When he returned to the living room, still plucking at the too-tight shoulders of the
sweatshirt, he could hear water running upstairs. While he'd showered, Stell had spread the
picnic across a bright red-checked tablecloth before the now-crackling fire. The wine was
open and breathing. A soot-stained coffeepot steamed on the hearth.

He was backed up to the fire when she entered, clad in a long caftan, a deep, rich
brown almost as dark as her hair. "Don't you dare laugh," he growled, seeing the broad grin
on her face.

She covered her mouth, but her eyes said it all.

"At least I'm warm again," he admitted, smiling himself, "even if I won't win any
Best-Dressed Man award."

"Oh, Adam, if you could only see yourself!" Laughter hovered at the edge of her
voice.

"I did." The mirror in the bathroom had only showed his upper half, but that had
been enough. Pulling the sweat pants up, he wished he had a piece of the strong elastic
from KIWANDA rainpants. If he wasn't careful, he was going to end up bare-assed and
hobbled. And his ankles were cold, besides.

"I'm sorry I didn't have anything else. If I just hadn't given all of Dad's clothes
away. He was close to your size."

"I'll survive," he said, hitching again at the pants. "At least I'm warm." He sank to
the floor, half reclining, leaning on his elbow. The fire toasted his feet.

Stell kept forgetting to appreciate the varied flavors of the picnic. She couldn't
take her eyes off Adam. He'd pulled himself up, to sit tailor fashion at the edge of the
tablecloth. The too-short sweatpants failed to cover him at both ends, leaving his legs bare
halfway to the knees, giving her tantalizing glimpses of his navel and his hard belly
below.

Even pickled herring, one of her favorite deli foods, failed to excite her today.
Finally she set her plate down. "Adam."