to bed.”
“My stepfather is a pain in the ass,” he grumbled, but he settled an arm over her shoulders so he could take some of the pressure off his bad leg.
She decided it was better not to comment on that, since she’d once been sympathetic to Bob’s frustrations where Brandon was concerned. “Back to Nicaragua.”
“Are you sorry the trip’s off?”
“I’m wondering why you invited me to go at all.”
“Wishful thinking.”
An adventure like that had sounded nice. It still did.
“And I knew you’d refuse,” he added.
He also knew it made a great cover, a believable cover, for the length of time he’d be gone. She had to hand it to him, he was good at hiding the problem. Until he’d winced earlier, she’d never even suspected. “And if I hadn’t?” she asked.
“You could come to Europe with me, travel around while I recuperate—as long as you stop by to see me once in a while.”
She could imagine how lonely that would be—to have an operation in a foreign county when all your friends and family thought you were having such a great time they didn’t bother to write or call. But, assuming he wasn’t any more serious about having her join him in Europe than he’d been about Nicaragua, she let that comment slide. “You made yourself climb these stairs. Maybe if you didn’t push yourself so hard, your leg would have a chance to heal on its own.”
“Stairs are the least of my worries. I’m going to have to do much more than climb up to my loft if I want to hang on to my career.”
He was scared, she realized. Scared that everything he’d been was somehow gone. He had to recreate himself.
She could relate to that. She’d embraced moving to Sacramento, had been eager to have a year to herself to see what she could do to expand her professional aspirations. But then her life had taken the Kyle-Noelle detour and she’d been floundering ever since.
“Would it be so terrible to retire?” Finished navigating the stairs, she guided him into the hall. “Surely you can’t expect to ski such dangerous runs forever.”
“No, not forever. Just another two or three years. I’m not ready to give it up. When I go out, it’ll be on my terms.”
The conviction in his voice told her that even if his efforts didn’t pay off, he’d put up one hell of a fight. “Then I believe you’ll make a comeback. If not this season, the next.”
He didn’t respond. She feared he knew her encouragement was simply that—encouragement.
“For now you need to get some sleep,” she said. “Or you won’t convince anyone that leg has healed.”
They’d reached his room. She hesitated at the entrance, expecting him to continue on himself but, keeping one arm around her shoulders, he touched her face with the opposite hand.
When she looked up at him, he held her chin so that she couldn’t look away as he murmured, “Come to bed with me.”
* * *
Brandon knew Olivia had every reason in the world to say no. She’d just been through a terrible breakup. She probably wasn’t over Kyle. The last thing she needed was to make love with a man who’d soon be leaving, most likely for months. At the moment, he had no clue where his life was going, whether he’d ever ski again, what he’d do if his comeback turned out to be a bust.
But he couldn’t help trying to capture and hold on to the special quality that made her so difficult to forget.
“Brandon—”
At the distress in her voice, he released her. He wouldn’t pressure her, didn’t want her to regret giving in once it was all over. “Never mind, honey. I know it’s been a hell of a year for you.” Figuring she’d hurry to her own room, he limped to the bed and dropped onto the mattress. His damn leg was aching again. Some days were worse than others. Tonight, the pain had gotten so bad he thought it might drive him insane.
But then she was there with her clothes off, and the pain disappeared beneath a flood of euphoria.
* * *
Olivia
“My stepfather is a pain in the ass,” he grumbled, but he settled an arm over her shoulders so he could take some of the pressure off his bad leg.
She decided it was better not to comment on that, since she’d once been sympathetic to Bob’s frustrations where Brandon was concerned. “Back to Nicaragua.”
“Are you sorry the trip’s off?”
“I’m wondering why you invited me to go at all.”
“Wishful thinking.”
An adventure like that had sounded nice. It still did.
“And I knew you’d refuse,” he added.
He also knew it made a great cover, a believable cover, for the length of time he’d be gone. She had to hand it to him, he was good at hiding the problem. Until he’d winced earlier, she’d never even suspected. “And if I hadn’t?” she asked.
“You could come to Europe with me, travel around while I recuperate—as long as you stop by to see me once in a while.”
She could imagine how lonely that would be—to have an operation in a foreign county when all your friends and family thought you were having such a great time they didn’t bother to write or call. But, assuming he wasn’t any more serious about having her join him in Europe than he’d been about Nicaragua, she let that comment slide. “You made yourself climb these stairs. Maybe if you didn’t push yourself so hard, your leg would have a chance to heal on its own.”
“Stairs are the least of my worries. I’m going to have to do much more than climb up to my loft if I want to hang on to my career.”
He was scared, she realized. Scared that everything he’d been was somehow gone. He had to recreate himself.
She could relate to that. She’d embraced moving to Sacramento, had been eager to have a year to herself to see what she could do to expand her professional aspirations. But then her life had taken the Kyle-Noelle detour and she’d been floundering ever since.
“Would it be so terrible to retire?” Finished navigating the stairs, she guided him into the hall. “Surely you can’t expect to ski such dangerous runs forever.”
“No, not forever. Just another two or three years. I’m not ready to give it up. When I go out, it’ll be on my terms.”
The conviction in his voice told her that even if his efforts didn’t pay off, he’d put up one hell of a fight. “Then I believe you’ll make a comeback. If not this season, the next.”
He didn’t respond. She feared he knew her encouragement was simply that—encouragement.
“For now you need to get some sleep,” she said. “Or you won’t convince anyone that leg has healed.”
They’d reached his room. She hesitated at the entrance, expecting him to continue on himself but, keeping one arm around her shoulders, he touched her face with the opposite hand.
When she looked up at him, he held her chin so that she couldn’t look away as he murmured, “Come to bed with me.”
* * *
Brandon knew Olivia had every reason in the world to say no. She’d just been through a terrible breakup. She probably wasn’t over Kyle. The last thing she needed was to make love with a man who’d soon be leaving, most likely for months. At the moment, he had no clue where his life was going, whether he’d ever ski again, what he’d do if his comeback turned out to be a bust.
But he couldn’t help trying to capture and hold on to the special quality that made her so difficult to forget.
“Brandon—”
At the distress in her voice, he released her. He wouldn’t pressure her, didn’t want her to regret giving in once it was all over. “Never mind, honey. I know it’s been a hell of a year for you.” Figuring she’d hurry to her own room, he limped to the bed and dropped onto the mattress. His damn leg was aching again. Some days were worse than others. Tonight, the pain had gotten so bad he thought it might drive him insane.
But then she was there with her clothes off, and the pain disappeared beneath a flood of euphoria.
* * *
Olivia
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