we owe Hans. Come on, Taylor. He helped you out enough last year.’
Sighing, Jack Taylor nodded. Last year he’d pulled a ligament and might have dropped out if Hans Wolf hadn’t found him the best doctor in Switzerland.
‘OK, OK. But don’t expect me to slow down so she can study my technique.’
His teammates laughed.
‘You wouldn’t slow down for the President,’ Rick Kowalski pointed out.
At that moment the draglift pulled two figures into
83
view and started carrying them up the mountain to the top of the mogul run.
Sam, Rick and Pete stared at Elizabeth’s curvy frame with open admiration.
Jack shook his head. Sex kittens were great, but not while he was working.
‘Here already,’ Hans said cheerily as he slid off the draglift. ‘Brad, it’s good to see you. Hello, guys. Brad, can I present Lady Elizabeth Savage.’
Brad Hinds leaned forward and took Elizabeth’s gloved hand. He tried hard not to show how surprised he was. Christ, the kid was gorgeous! High cheekbones, brilliant green eyes, full lips, kick-ass athletic little body. She had a tight butt, long legs, sculptured shoulders. Goggles and rainbow Lycra that clung like a second skin did a lousy job of wrapping her up. He couldn’t stop his eyes flickering over her breasts. They had to be the only part of her that wasn’t firm and toned. To his dismay, he felt the beginnings of a hard-on. Thank God he’d picked bulky nylon pants today.
‘Uh, how do you do, my lady,’ Hinds said uncertainly. ‘Please call me Elizabeth, Mr Hinds. It’s such an
honour to meet you. I really appreciate your making time for me today.’ Her small hand shook his huge paw enthusiastically.
‘Hey, no problem. I’m Brad, and these are Sam, Pete, Rick and Jack.’
‘Elizabeth.’ Sam Florence’s grin was fit to split his face. Kowalski and Myers nodded hi and undressed her with their eyes. Nothing she wasn’t used to.
However Taylor’s reaction was a surprise. He gave her a cold stare, shifted impatiently on his skis, and turned away. ‘Brad, can we get going? We’ve hung around long enough.’
‘Sure.’ Hinds pulled out a stopwatch. ‘You take the first run.’ He turned to Elizabeth as Taylor settled into a
crouch. ‘Don’t mind Jack. He’s World Champion, it makes him a little excessive about training.’
‘Oh, I understand,’ Elizabeth said warmly. ‘Jack, you were superb at Garmisch—’
She never got to finish her sentence. Ignoring her completely, Taylor pushed off with a mighty lunge and tore down the mogul run, planting his stick cleanly and with perfect rhythm, his heavy body leaping, twisting and landing cleanly and sharply.
‘Jack Taylor is a real skier. He does not want to know you,’ Hans whispered in her ear. ‘You have not earned his respect.’
Elizabeth stood at the top of the run, her eyes narrowing.
That smug bastard. She was going to teach him a lesson, o
Two hours later, Elizabeth was ready to drop. Hans had been right: training with the men pushed her to the limit. Her muscles were burning with effort, her body bathed in sweat under the suit, her head throbbing from the gritted focus it took keeping up with them. After Pete Myers sliced his way down the mogul run barely a second behind Jack, Elizabeth took a go. Swooping, turning and jumping with ferocious concentration, she made the run three seconds ahead of her personal best.
She was miles behind the men. Taylor’s stare was scornful.
Elizabeth listened to Brad’s comments with unusual humility, but she was biting her lower lip with rage. The second descent, she shaved off two extra seconds, but still trailed Taylor. The third time she pushed herself too hard and fell, bruising her outer hip painfully and jolting a ski out of its bindings.
‘Are you OK? Maybe you’d better take a breather,’ the’
85
coach suggested anxiously. Ronnie Davis would skin him alive if the Brit’s star girl was injured before her
Sighing, Jack Taylor nodded. Last year he’d pulled a ligament and might have dropped out if Hans Wolf hadn’t found him the best doctor in Switzerland.
‘OK, OK. But don’t expect me to slow down so she can study my technique.’
His teammates laughed.
‘You wouldn’t slow down for the President,’ Rick Kowalski pointed out.
At that moment the draglift pulled two figures into
83
view and started carrying them up the mountain to the top of the mogul run.
Sam, Rick and Pete stared at Elizabeth’s curvy frame with open admiration.
Jack shook his head. Sex kittens were great, but not while he was working.
‘Here already,’ Hans said cheerily as he slid off the draglift. ‘Brad, it’s good to see you. Hello, guys. Brad, can I present Lady Elizabeth Savage.’
Brad Hinds leaned forward and took Elizabeth’s gloved hand. He tried hard not to show how surprised he was. Christ, the kid was gorgeous! High cheekbones, brilliant green eyes, full lips, kick-ass athletic little body. She had a tight butt, long legs, sculptured shoulders. Goggles and rainbow Lycra that clung like a second skin did a lousy job of wrapping her up. He couldn’t stop his eyes flickering over her breasts. They had to be the only part of her that wasn’t firm and toned. To his dismay, he felt the beginnings of a hard-on. Thank God he’d picked bulky nylon pants today.
‘Uh, how do you do, my lady,’ Hinds said uncertainly. ‘Please call me Elizabeth, Mr Hinds. It’s such an
honour to meet you. I really appreciate your making time for me today.’ Her small hand shook his huge paw enthusiastically.
‘Hey, no problem. I’m Brad, and these are Sam, Pete, Rick and Jack.’
‘Elizabeth.’ Sam Florence’s grin was fit to split his face. Kowalski and Myers nodded hi and undressed her with their eyes. Nothing she wasn’t used to.
However Taylor’s reaction was a surprise. He gave her a cold stare, shifted impatiently on his skis, and turned away. ‘Brad, can we get going? We’ve hung around long enough.’
‘Sure.’ Hinds pulled out a stopwatch. ‘You take the first run.’ He turned to Elizabeth as Taylor settled into a
crouch. ‘Don’t mind Jack. He’s World Champion, it makes him a little excessive about training.’
‘Oh, I understand,’ Elizabeth said warmly. ‘Jack, you were superb at Garmisch—’
She never got to finish her sentence. Ignoring her completely, Taylor pushed off with a mighty lunge and tore down the mogul run, planting his stick cleanly and with perfect rhythm, his heavy body leaping, twisting and landing cleanly and sharply.
‘Jack Taylor is a real skier. He does not want to know you,’ Hans whispered in her ear. ‘You have not earned his respect.’
Elizabeth stood at the top of the run, her eyes narrowing.
That smug bastard. She was going to teach him a lesson, o
Two hours later, Elizabeth was ready to drop. Hans had been right: training with the men pushed her to the limit. Her muscles were burning with effort, her body bathed in sweat under the suit, her head throbbing from the gritted focus it took keeping up with them. After Pete Myers sliced his way down the mogul run barely a second behind Jack, Elizabeth took a go. Swooping, turning and jumping with ferocious concentration, she made the run three seconds ahead of her personal best.
She was miles behind the men. Taylor’s stare was scornful.
Elizabeth listened to Brad’s comments with unusual humility, but she was biting her lower lip with rage. The second descent, she shaved off two extra seconds, but still trailed Taylor. The third time she pushed herself too hard and fell, bruising her outer hip painfully and jolting a ski out of its bindings.
‘Are you OK? Maybe you’d better take a breather,’ the’
85
coach suggested anxiously. Ronnie Davis would skin him alive if the Brit’s star girl was injured before her
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