In From the Cold Read online

  He nodded again, a broad smile lighting his face.

  “Then sure, I’m game.”

  We walked over to the equipment room, got outfitted, and I soon found myself following Drake down a pristine forest path. Our skis shushed through the snow, and we maintained a quiet, even pace. It was lovely.

  Neither of us said much. Once we saw a moose up the path, but it had moved on by the time we got there. A snowshoe hare darted by, and I was intrigued by its white coat, long ears and tail. The fir trees, the sun on the snow, the spectacular mountains, the crisp air, all braced me and made me feel even more alive. Reborn. Joyful.

  Drake plowed the path ahead, his skis gliding through the snow, his powerful legs and arms swinging in rhythm, graceful, almost dancing. His blue parka and red scarf were fixed in my sights, and I took mental snapshots of him to savor later. I knew there weren’t many more days to make memories—the house party was halfway over—and while I couldn’t risk my heart again, I’d decided to let myself enjoy my time with him. Or at least, I planned to try.

  He was not good looking in the same way as Jim, or model perfect like Mr. Ski-Slime, but there was something about Drake. He was confident, yes, and attractive, but in a healthy, open, out-of-doors way, and very masculine. It was hard to imagine him stuck behind a desk right now, as he thrust his powerful legs through the snow. A Patagonia model maybe, but not a CEO.

  “I’ll race you to the cabin!” He pointed to a small cabin three hundred yards ahead, a boyish grin on his face.

  “No fair. Your legs are too long.”

  “I’ll give you a head start.”

  “I don’t trust you. You’ll cheat.”

  His eyes clouded. “I never cheat.”

  “Oh, all right. You must like to lose then.” I brushed past him and swished up the trail. “Say when.”

  “When!” he yelled, superfast, and he was practically past me before I’d dug in my first pole. He held back until we were within fifty yards or so, but was well before me at the cabin and hardly out of breath.

  “Never cheat, hunh?” I panted.

  “Well, almost never. And I did give you a head start and said ‘When’.”

  “Semantics.”

  He grinned, and I felt that tug in my stomach again. He stepped up on the porch, his skis still on.

  “Wanna go in?”

  “What is this place?” I looked around. The cabin looked like a Christmas card, all natural wood that glowed like honey, with a huge wreath on the door and drifts of clean snow against its sides. It was cozy, idyllic.

  “A rest cabin. You can get a hot drink, warm up, use the facilities, take shelter if you need to. Come see.”

  “Sure. A break sounds good.”

  We took off our boots and skis and left them on the porch, stepping inside in our sock feet. The cabin was charming. A small Jøtul gas stove sat in one corner, a small kitchenette in the other. There was a tan leather loveseat and an oak rocking chair with a Navajo rug before the stove, and a restroom over to the right.

  Drake started the stove and within a minute, the room was noticeably warmer.

  I walked over to the kitchen area, peeling off my gloves, hat and parka as I went, and threw them on the sofa. The cupboards were high, so I looked around for something to stand on.

  “Oh good, a stool. Being short sucks.” I pulled it over, climbed up and started delving through the shelves. “What would you like? They have tea, cocoa and Keurig coffees.”

  “Tea sounds good.” His voice was much closer. I whirled around and almost toppled, startled to see him so close and at eye level. His hands grabbed my waist to steady me—and stayed there.

  “I don’t know why you complain about being short. You look just right to me.” His voice grew softer, rougher, his eyes focused on my lips. He leaned in closer, and I put my hands on his shoulders to steady myself.

  His eyes held mine, but he didn’t move. They were steady and assured, and waited for me. Waited for permission.

  And I was ready—to move on, to risk life again. He made me feel powerful—confident and in control. My knees shook, and I shivered, but it wasn’t from fear. It was desire. I wanted him. And I wanted him now.

  His arms tightened around me, but he still waited. I pulled off his cap and ran my fingers through his silky curls. His eyes searched mine and when I grinned, I saw a flash of relief answer in his. Then I claimed his mouth with mine, but I felt possessed.

  The fears, the longing, the pent-up frustration poured through me like floodwaters through a broken dam. I threw myself at his head, rough, demanding. My tongue pushed through his lips, conquering his mouth, and he gave it right back, his hunger as strong as mine. This was no dance of tongues; this was a fistfight, a take-no-prisoners tangle. We stroked and licked, tasted and sucked, explored and slid over every nook, seeking every sensation. I forgot to breathe and pulled away gasping, only to lurch back harder, pulling his warm sweet mouth to mine. I wanted everything, everywhere, all at once. It was shocking, arousing, exhilarating, exciting. And he was totally with me.

  I felt myself lifted straight onto the counter and heard him kick the stool out of the way. One hand rifled my hair, the other digging under my sweater, then my shirt. He groaned and settled closer between my thighs, pulling me to the counter edge, and I could feel his swollen desire there between my legs. I pulled off his sweater and shirt, craving no barriers, burning for his skin, frantic to touch him, to feel him. His hands were caressing my mound through my tights, and I could feel my wetness on my panties. He pulled off my sweater, my shirt, my bra, and groaned again as he pulled my nipple into his mouth and suckled, hard, his tongue stroking and twirling. My insides turned to molten lava, and I rasped myself against the hot bulge in his ski tights. He turned to my other breast and worshipped it, his arm holding me tight around the waist, pulling me into his urgent mouth. I arched my back to bring him nearer, my body aching, squirming with need. I had to have him. Had to.

  “Claire…Claire,” I heard him moan, and I whimpered with need.

  I pulled down his tights, and I heard his breath hitch. His erection was glorious—long and wide, hot and hard. My hand slid down his gorgeous shaft, my fingers taking his drops of come and swirling it around his cock’s throbbing head. He moaned and I thrilled to his jerking at my touch. He took my mouth in another assault, stroking, conquering with his lips, thrusting with his tongue. He pulled off my tights and panties in a rush, cupped my bottom firmly, then slid one finger into my dripping sheath. He shivered and his cock leapt in my hand.

  “Oh dear God, baby, you’re so ready,” he murmured, taking my lips again, his finger plunging, adding another, thrusting, plunging, rubbing my clit. I was on fire.

  “Are you clean, Drake?” I gasped.

  “Yeah. You?” He moved between my thighs.

  “Yeah. On the pill.”

  “Thank God!”

  Almost frantic, he grabbed my legs and pulled me to the edge. He arrowed his cock at my entrance, rubbed himself through my essence, and plunged.

  He felt incredible. So good. So damn good. His cock roared through my passage, filling me, completing me. My hands grasped his biceps, breast to chest, his gorgeous muscular thighs pumping into me, my legs wrapped around his hips. He plunged and plunged, riding me, rhythmic and powerful, building our heat, and I felt my core rising, a volcano of need, of pending eruption. And suddenly I was there, whimpering, moaning, flying high, higher, higher. I felt him start to stiffen, my muscles clenched around him—and then his whole body tensed. His cock and balls tightened and he strained into me, groaning, a long sound of pure pleasure, and then we slowly, slowly, soft as snowflakes, soft as down, sank back to earth together.

  I felt drugged. Our mingled scents swirled around us, of arousal, sweat and evergreens, and I felt blissful—secure and wanted. He leaned against me, his arms draped around me, h
is forehead propped on mine. I rubbed my hands up and down his back, soothing his now-relaxed body, warming and admiring his butt muscles.

  “You have a fine ass, Mr. Driscoll. Have I told you that?” I murmured playfully into his neck, nibbling on his ear. He leaned back and cupped my face in his hands, then kissed me, a feather-light brush of the lips.

  “No, but I’m glad you like it. I’m rather fond of yours too. And all your other bits.” He leaned down and kissed my nipple, then pulled me to his chest, cradling my head against his shoulder, and sighed. “God, Claire, you’re unbelievable. Perfect.”

  There was such awe and wonder in his voice, that for a moment, I almost believed him. Almost. His eyes studied me intently. I knew he was wondering if I would retreat again, withdraw from what we’d shared. I prodded myself with a mental finger, probing for doubts or guilt, and I was relieved to find none. I was glad—thrilled in fact—that I’d done it. A victory.

  “That was my first time since Jim,” I murmured. He held my face in his hands and smiled at me, proud of me too, then pulled me back into a tight hug.

  I sighed and held him close, reveling in his warmth. Maybe I could be strong again, even whole. It felt right, as if all the shit in my life had been leading me here, to this good place, this good man, this good moment.

  I never wanted to leave.

  But leave we must. Slowly, we pulled ourselves together. We cleaned up in the bathroom, dressed and drank our tea, only to realize we would have to push hard to collect the girls on time. We headed back, slipping through the snow, lapping up the miles. We were laughing, silly, almost giddy. He was so beautiful and I was so happy, maybe even falling in love, and for the moment, the thought didn’t terrify me.

  We slid up to the lodge just a few minutes before five, darkness already descending, and I hurried to the toddler camp, leaving Drake, with a kiss, to return our equipment. The girls were waiting, eager to tell me about their day, with rosy cheeks and tired eyes. I had already helped Yvette into her parka and was snapping Suzie into hers when I felt Yvette suddenly still, staring at someone behind me.

  “Daddy?”

  “Hiya, gorgeous! What are you doing here?”

  Daddy? Gorgeous?

  I whipped around, and there was Mr. Ski-Slime, his arms stretched open to Yvette, and Drake framed in the doorway right behind him, a sick expression on his face.

  Chapter Ten

  Drake

  Miles.

  I tried to keep my face impassive and calm, but inwardly, I roiled with cold fury.

  What the hell was he doing here?

  I walked up to Claire and Suzie. Claire looked concerned, Suzie puzzled.

  “Drake!” Miles lifted Yvette into a hug, then let her slip to the floor. She moved between Claire and me and slid her tiny hand into mine. I squeezed it gently. I had no idea how she felt about her father, and even now, she gave nothing away. She’d been surprised and she hadn’t resisted his hug, but she hadn’t smiled either. She was holding my hand tightly though, and if my daughter had preferred to hold hands with another man rather than her own father—well, it wouldn’t have happened. I squeezed her hand again and felt a tiny squeeze back. I pulled her closer, my protective instincts roaring.

  “Miles,” I said flatly. Suzie took my other hand, peering back and forth between Miles and me.

  Miles glanced at Claire, then at me, ignoring Yvette. “Here for the Fritzes’ shindig, I see.”

  “Yes.” My tone was terse, dismissive. “What brings you here?”

  “My other plans fell through, so I thought, ‘Why not?’ Lots of my favorite people are here.” He winked at Yvette, then leered at Claire. “And it’s Christmas.”

  He seemed to notice Suzie for the first time and squatted in front of her. “Who is this little pumpkin seed?”

  “Suzie.”

  “Suzie? No way. Wow! You’ve really grown. You were only yaay big the last time I saw you.” He held his hands a few inches apart. “You’re a big girl now, hunh?”

  She didn’t say anything, just looked at me to see how she should react. I squeezed her hand too. She could tell something was up.

  “Yes, she’s grown. And they’ve had a big day. We should be going.” I started to turn away, but Miles didn’t take the hint.

  “So why is Yvette with you and Suzie and…” He turned to Claire, obviously fishing. “Miss…?”

  “Miss Stranger,” Suzie volunteered. No one corrected her.

  “Miss Stranger.” Miles smiled his “gotcha smile” at Claire, and my cold fury burst into flames. I’d grown up with that smile, had watched Miles seduce and burn dozens of girls, wreaking havoc. Not this time.

  “Back off, Miles.”

  He looked from me to Claire and back again, then shrugged, putting his palms up in surrender.

  “Hey, I’m just makin’ nice.” He cocked his head. “And Yvette’s with you because…?”

  “I’m the nanny,” Claire said.

  “Ohhhh, the nanny,” he chuckled. “I get it.” He rubbed his jaw. “Wow. Lucky Yvette. Lucky Drake.” His smile was knowing, smarmy, and I wanted to smash my fist in it. I took another step forward, but Claire put her hand on my arm. She gave her head a tiny shake, then slanted her eyes at the girls. Not here, she signaled, not now.

  “I think our ride’s here, Drake. Yvette, say goodbye to your daddy.” Claire took Suzie’s hand and held her other out for Yvette, who was still clinging hard to my hand. I passed her to Claire, sharing a glance at our hands. She understood that I wanted them gone.

  “Bye, Daddy,” Yvette whispered, barely audible.

  “Bye, darlin’.” Miles smiled, but he barely looked at her, oblivious to her tension. I seethed with anger. This was his daughter, damn it. To think I once thought he was utterly cool. What a stupid ass I was.

  I turned to Claire. “Take the girls to the car. I’ll be right behind you.”

  She read my face, nodded, then turned to Miles, radiating dislike. Did she have a sixth sense about him already? Did she know him? Whatever the cause, her instincts were dead on.

  “Goodbye, Mr. Lofton,” she said.

  “Miles.” He flashed his mega-watt grin.

  I watched for a reaction, but she said nothing, her face blank as she hurried the girls into the waiting SUV. Miles started to turn toward me, barely listening, his eyes bird-dogging Claire’s ass as she bent over the girls in the backseat.

  “Well, it’s great to see you, Drake. Maybe we could—”

  I grabbed him by the jacket front, pulled him around the corner of the building and then yanked him to my face. “Maybe nothing.”

  His eyes narrowed and his body stiffened. I had his attention now.

  “Get this straight, Miles. I don’t want to see you. Claire and the girls don’t want to see you. We want nothing to do with you.”

  “Claire, hunh?” The idiot grinned and glanced at the car again.

  Damn, I’d let her name slip.

  “Are you hearing me, Miles? Leave her—and us—alone. I mean it. She’s been through enough—and so have I.”

  A cloud passed over his eyes, but in typical Miles fashion, it cleared quickly.

  “Doesn’t she get a say?”

  “No.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.”

  “So you and she…?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  He suddenly jerked away and I let him go. He stretched his neck, resettled his clothes and his pride, then glared at me.

  “I could make it my business.”

  I took a step toward him; he was only inches away. “You could try.”

  My growl should have warned away a bull moose, but not Miles. I knew Miles, how he worked, and Claire was now the best challenge ever. And he thought he knew me, knew how little I ha
d fought him in the past.

  But he didn’t know me now.

  I breathed deeply, willing myself to calm down. We had a more pressing issue after all.

  “We do have other business. Sharon.”

  “Sharon? What about her?” His eyes had drifted to the car, but he trained them back on me. He seemed puzzled by the change of subject.

  “Do you know how much she’s drinking?”

  He shrugged. “She always drinks a lot. Besides, we’re divorced. Why should I care?”

  “Yvette, you dumbass. And Sharon’s drinking is worse. It’s out of control.”

  He looked mildly uncomfortable, but then shrugged again. “I don’t see what I can do about it. Sharon’s her own woman now.”

  “Get her some help. Keep Yvette away from her until she’s sober.”

  “She has a nanny.”

  “A nanny who packed summer clothes for a Wyoming winter? Do you even know who’s taking care of your daughter?”

  He shrugged again. “I can’t check on everything.”

  I was damned tired of his shrugs and his carelessness. I was damned tired of him.

  Close to exploding, I needed to walk away, but for Yvette, I gave it one more try.

  “We were friends once, Miles. You’re Yvette’s father, and whether you’re man enough to acknowledge it, you are responsible for her, terrifying as that thought must be. For once in your life, think about someone else. You did a number on Sharon, on all of us. You owe her—and Yvette.”

  He said nothing. I turned and joined the others in the car. He stood there, frowning, as we drove away.

  In the car, I sat with the girls snuggled on each side of me. Yvette never said a word while Suzie nattered on about their day, and by the time we reached the guesthouse, they were both fast asleep.

  Claire had watched us from the opposite seat, silent, introspective. I wanted to know what she was thinking, but she didn’t seem to want to talk. And the silence made me uneasy.

  “Did you know him?” I blurted finally, wincing at my accusatory tone. I had to know what was between them.

  Claire looked at me and shook her head. “No, I don’t. But he spoke to me earlier today, before I met you at the bar.”