Realm Of The Ice God

REALM OF THE ICE GOD

“What do you want?” he whispered as he dropped his head closer. She could feel his breath feather across her cheek. It stoked the fire already building inside her. “What do you mean?” she murmured, unable to look away from him, hypnotized, like a doe caught in the sights of a hunter. There was nothing soft in his look, in his touch. He studied her with a cool—no— cold, assessing look in his eyes. “No games, pretty gazelle.” He pulled her closer, trapping her against him. “Let me take you home.” “I-I—” He moved too fast. “There’s nothing to think about. I can smell your perfume. You want me. And I want to make love to you. All night long.” “I don’t know you.” “Ah, but you will. And I plan to become intimately familiar with every inch of this luscious body you have hidden. Beginning now—”

ALSO BY ADRIANNA DANE The Diary Of Lillian Manchester, Book I: The Stranger Eluria’s Enforcer Esmerelda’s Secret Fertility Rite Graphic Liaisons If You Dare… Images Of Desire Jebediah’s Promise Legend Of The Beesinger Nights In White Satin Sylvie’s Gift Whisper

REALM OF THE ICE GOD BY ADRIANNA DANE

AMBER QUILL PRESS, LLC http://www.amberquill.com

REALM OF THE ICE GOD AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2005 by Theresa Gallup ISBN 1-59279-464-5 Cover Art © 2005 Trace Edward Zaber

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PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

For Adam, the original ice god in our family from the time before he could walk.

REALM OF THE ICE GOD

CHAPTER 1

“That’s stunning,” she murmured, then swallowed another sip of champagne. “Do you think so?” a deep, sexy voice inquired from behind her. The tone sent warm, tingly shivers down her spine. She whirled around to confront the speaker. It required tilting her head back, and she caught her breath as she encountered the most searing aquamarine-intense eyes surrounded by thick, sooty lashes. “Excuse me?” His gaze angled beyond her to the sculpture resting at the center of the buffet table. He lifted an arm and pointed in the direction of the table. “The sculpture. You like it?” It was difficult to take her eyes off the heady illusion of a Greek god standing in front her, but she turned away to again survey the sculpture. It was indeed a beautiful piece of work. 1

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“Yes, yes, I do.” She had the urge to reach out and touch it. Common sense told her it would freeze her fingertips, and she didn't want to mark it with the heat of her hand. Yet, it looked so warm and alive—a glittering ethereal fairy, poised for flight. It was even tinged with the colors of life force, sparkling beneath the lights in the room. “It looks so alive. It’s hard to believe it’s made from what amounts to frozen water. I would never have imagined one could do that with a block of ice.” She turned back to the handsome stranger. He was tall, with raven black hair, chiseled, high cheekbones, and a haughty, remote expression. His eyes reflected the cold, biting texture of the statue they discussed. Yet, they mesmerized her. The tone of his voice was deep and seductive, like immersing into the warm depths of a mountain hot spring in the midst of winter. Hot and cold. Distant and seductive. An arousing combination, creating sparks inside her. “Why do you find it surprising?” “I’ve seen enough ice statues to know that whoever created this is definitely gifted. This is a work of art.” The band struck up a slow number. “Would you care to dance?” he asked. “I don’t know you.” “What is it you would like to know?” He took the fluted glass from her hand and set it on the edge of the buffet table. Clasping her cool, damp fingers, he led her onto the dance floor. “We can get to know each other while we’re dancing.” She moved easily into his arms. He was a very good dancer and although he held her close, it wasn’t a tight grip as some liked to do, leaving her with a feeling of being suffocated. Her body bowed toward him, as though drawn there by an unseen force. Unlike the icy statue they’d discussed, his body radiated heat. She leaned in and the earthy scents of cinnamon and evergreen glazed over her. It reminded her of 2

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the outdoors—wild and free somehow, rather than the cloying closeness so prevalent in the city. Maybe it was just that she’d been on tour for so long; she was feeling closed in by the constant routine of practice and performance. But his scent made her yearn to fly away from all the schedules. His body was hard beneath her hands. She felt the muscles tighten as he guided her over the floor. She looked up and found him staring at her, his mouth close and inviting. So sensual, with a full lower lip she wanted to bite, to lick, and suck. All of a sudden she couldn’t tear her eyes from that mouth. Lifting her hand from his arm, she drew her thumb across the soft curve. He opened his mouth and captured it lightly between his teeth. A shaft of white-hot desire shivered through her. A hiss of wanton flame engulfed the small space separating their lips. The light pressure imprisoning her digit lessened and slowly she lowered her hand to rest it on his shoulder. “What do you want?” he whispered as he dropped his head closer. She could feel his breath feather across her cheek. It stoked the fire already building inside her. “What do you mean?” she murmured, unable to look away from him, hypnotized, like a doe caught in the sights of a hunter. There was nothing soft in his look, in his touch. He studied her with a cool—no— cold, assessing look in his eyes. “No games, pretty gazelle.” He pulled her closer, trapping her against him. “Let me take you home.” “I-I—” He moved too fast. “There’s nothing to think about. I can smell your perfume. You want me. And I want to make love to you. All night long.” “I don’t know you.” “Ah, but you will. And I plan to become intimately familiar with every inch of this luscious body you have hidden. Beginning now—” 3

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Before she could move, he ravaged her mouth, drove his tongue deep inside, and sucked her wild lust to the surface. It curled around her, forcing her to respond without inhibition, uncaring they were in a room filled with people. He pulled her closer and she could feel the ridge of his cock pressed against her. It was a steel rod cushioned against her abdomen and her pussy flooded with the demand to become acquainted with it intimately. An urgent basic instinct accelerated through her. It had been a long time since she’d been with a man; her career as a professional ice skater required all her attention. All her passion. She knew she should break free from him. But his lips branded her, ignited her, demanded her desire—the sexual heat she’d ignored for so long. He released her mouth. “Well?” he demanded, his voice, gravel deep, seemed to crush her willpower. She trembled in response to the storm he created. The haze of desire consumed her. She knew this was a mistake. “Yes.” A flicker of blue flame passed in his eyes. She saw it, interpreted it as triumph. The hunter had tracked his prey and succeeded in bringing it to ground. She didn’t like the analogy, but that’s what it felt like all the same. He led her from the dance floor. “Where’s your coat?” “In the cloak room. You mean we’re leaving now?” “Did you drive? Or did you come with someone?” “No. I-I took a taxi.” “Good, then there’s no problem.” With a hand at her spine, he guided her toward the cloak room. It was all happening so quickly. She stopped. “Wait. I need a minute. It’s happening too fast.” He pinned her with an icy-hot look. “What more is there to consider?” “I-I don’t know. I don’t do this kind of thing.” 4

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“What? Allow men to take you home?” He quirked a dark eyebrow. She could tell he was amused by her predicament. “I don’t pick up men. Any men.” But she had a feeling he was quite experienced at picking up women. “Then this will be a new experience for you.” They stood in a dark hallway, and he leaned toward her. “If you don’t want to go with me, say so. My name is Khristos DuMichael. What is your name, little gazelle?” “It’s Natalie. Natalie Mason.” It figured he’d have a gorgeous name to go with that wonderful body. He pulled out his wallet and flipped it open. “Here is my life. My driver’s license. You see? The picture matches my face.” She didn’t move to take it and he closed it, putting it back in his pocket. He pressed her against the wall. “I don’t want to murder you, Natalie, I want to fuck that delectable body of yours. I want to make love to you in every way conceivable and some that are not. I want you. Will you let me take you home?” She felt the desire swamp her. Okay, she knew his name. This wasn’t like her. At all. But, damn, she wanted him to make love to her, wanted to experience everything he offered. She swallowed, and then nodded her head. “Yes.” He moved away from her and clasped her arm, leading her the rest of the way to the cloak room. “Khristos!” They both turned as a female voice shouted from the end of the hallway. Natalie looked up at him and saw the expression on his face harden to a mask of remote distaste. He laid a hand on Natalie’s arm. “A moment. It appears I need to take care of something. Wait here.” He stepped away from her and slowly strode down the dark corridor toward the woman highlighted at the entrance to the ballroom. She was strikingly beautiful. Regal. Her face looked familiar. A 5

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model? A movie star? She also looked very angry. She wore a long black cape, as though she’d just come in. Khristos placed a hand on her arm and she shook him off. Natalie couldn’t hear their discussion from where she stood, but it didn’t look congenial. Suddenly, the woman raised one of her arms that had been concealed beneath the cape and something glittered in her upraised hand. “Oh, no,” Natalie gasped and raced forward as the woman’s arm sliced downward. Khristos tried to grab for the object before it struck him. He was a second too slow and it slashed across his face, then without hesitation was driven into his shoulder. Natalie screamed. Khristos finally managed to grab the woman’s arm and stop her from stabbing him again. The commotion brought others hurrying from the ballroom. Two men grabbed the woman and pulled her away. Lifting a hand to his face, Khristos sank to the floor, blood pouring from the slash and the wound in his shoulder. Natalie dropped to the floor next to him. “Call 9-1-1. Get me a towel!” She tried to stem the flow of blood pouring from the wounds. “Oh, God!” Someone handed her towels and she attempted to staunch the flow of blood. “We’ve called for help. Someone should be here soon.” She had no idea who spoke, but she nodded without looking up. “Khristos, someone is coming.” She rested his head against her lap, feeling helpless. He opened his eyes and looked around. They were the color of the dark swirling waters of the Atlantic, black with pain. “Where is she?” he gritted out. 6

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Natalie looked up and noted the woman was slumped in a corner, crying hysterically, two men standing over her, most likely to make sure she couldn’t make an attempt to flee. “She won’t get away. She’s on the other side of the room, two men are guarding her.” He tried to nod and then winced. “Just lie still, Khristos.” “I guess we’ll need to postpone our rendezvous until another time.” “Don’t make light of this. She’s crazy and she might have killed you. Who is she?” “I’m sorry you’ve become involved in this ugly affair. You should leave now. You don’t need to stay.” “How can you say that? I can’t just leave you like this.” There was a commotion in the ballroom and the EMTs arrived with a stretcher. Natalie was hastily pushed aside so they could check his vital signs and prepare him for transport to the hospital. She wasn’t given another opportunity to speak with him. She stepped forward as they prepared to leave. “Wait. Can you tell me which hospital they’re taking him to?” There were several in the city and she wanted to be sure she knew where they were transporting him. “St. Vincent’s, ma’am,” he informed her before hurrying out after the stretcher. She was still stopped from leaving immediately, as the police wanted to question her about the attack. It wasn’t until two hours later she was able to hail a taxi and go to the hospital. It was like living a nightmare. So surreal. A man she’d hardly met, yet was ready to sleep with. He was attacked by whom? A jealous lover? Talk about drama. She still didn’t know the name of the woman—hadn’t waited around to find out who she was. She pulled her wool coat closer, feeling the chill of the cold autumn 7

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night air. Her dress beneath was covered in blood, but she didn’t want to take the time to go back to her apartment. She wanted to make sure Khristos was all right first. When she arrived at the hospital, they would give her very little information. After all, she wasn’t a family member. Admittedly, she was hardly an acquaintance, having only known him for an hour at most. Finally, they did inform her he was in surgery and there was nothing further they were allowed to tell her. Two hours later a tall, well-dressed older woman entered the waiting room and walked over to Natalie. “You are the young woman who was asking about Khristos?” “Yes, I am. I was with him when it happened. I-I wanted to make sure he was all right.” The woman nodded. “I am his mother. I’m sure he would not want you to worry. He has pulled through the surgery and is in recovery and in stable condition at the moment, but he can have no visitors. What is your name? I will tell him you came by to see him.” “It’s Natalie Mason. You’re sure he’ll be all right?” The woman patted her hand. “Yes, my dear. He will mend. You should go home now and get some rest.” It was anticlimactic in a way. She wanted to see him, to know with her own eyes he was going to be okay, but she didn’t have that right. So she left. It wasn’t until she’d arrived at home that the exhaustion swamped her. She shed the ruined dress and underwear, jumped into the shower, then ended up pacing the floor. There was a feeling of something important having been missed. A crucial decision in her life had been avoided. And it was as though she now existed in a vacuum of indecision. She made herself a cup of herbal tea, hoping it would help settle her, and finally she went to bed. But there was no sleep for her. She tossed and turned, reliving the attack in slow motion. 8

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Finally, in the early hours of the morning she drifted off to sleep. When she awoke, it was mid-morning and she had a headache and a sense of frustration. After a shower and a cup of tea she looked up the number for the hospital. She wanted to find out what room Khristos had been moved to and see if she could obtain an update on his condition. She’d only known the man for an hour. Why this determined need to see him? She should just let things go. There was no room in her life for a relationship. Certainly not one that would complicate her life, as she was sure this one would. Yet something inside wouldn’t let her turn away. She had to see him. What she found was that he was no longer a patient and had been transported to another facility. No, they didn’t know the name of the facility. For two weeks she attempted to track down where he’d been taken, to no avail. What she did find out was that he was the sculptor of the ice statue she’d admired that night, and a rather famous one in his own right. The police contacted her regarding the incident to follow up. They told her the matter had been taken care of. Mr. DuMichael was not pressing charges, and the woman had agreed to undergo psychiatric treatment. There most likely would not be a trial she would need to testify at. It was like Khristos DuMichael had never entered her life, as though it was a dream. He appeared to have dropped off the face of the earth. And it left Natalie with a sense of being part of an unfinished story.

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CHAPTER 2

“Natalie, you need to take some time off.” Her manager tapped the tip of his gold pen against the mahogany desk as he looked at her over the rim of his bifocals. Natalie flopped down in the green leather chair across from him. “I’m fine, Craig, stop worrying. You’re not my mother, you know.” “That may be, but I am your manager and your friend, and your health is important. You’ve been working yourself to death the last three months. You don’t start that gig with the Calverton Ice Show for another month. I’m not going to try to squeeze something else in. You need to rest.” “No, I don’t. I need to work.” But she knew he was right. It seemed the harder she worked the more she thought about Khristos DuMichael. She’d known him for all of an hour. Three months and she should be past it by now. What was the deal with not being able to get him out of her mind? 10

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She still had moments when she could feel his arms around her, smell his earthy scent, taste his lips. Damn. Wouldn’t he have contacted her at some point in these last weeks if he’d wanted to see her? She’d even broken down and asked Craig to make some inquiries, but he’d come up empty as well. The man had simply vanished. Craig did manage to find out that Khristos has been moved to a private hospital, but by that time, he’d been discharged. No one knew where he’d gone. Finally, she’d given up. Obviously, it wasn’t meant to be. “I’ve made a reservation for you up north at Tenneyson’s Lodge. They have an indoor rink, as well as an outdoor pond nearby. You can skate to your heart’s content, but you will take some time off. I don’t want to hear from you for the next month. Do you understand me?” “But, Craig—” “No. You will take some time for yourself. Kick back. It’s January, high season for the Lodge. You never know, you might meet someone interesting.” She rolled her eyes heavenwards. Craig was always trying to match her up with someone. “Puh-leeze. I’m not interested in starting a relationship, you know that. I don’t have time.” He pulled off his glasses and gave her a hard look—his manager look. “Well, you’re about to have four weeks of time—and no late nights. I have spies up there, you know, and they’ll let me know if you don’t follow my orders.” “Craig, don’t make me do this. I need to work.” Really, it was the down time that was the worst. As long as she kept busy, it wasn’t so bad. “You don’t have a choice. Calverton’s will take a lot out of you— it’s a road show and pretty intense. You’ll need to be rested to keep up. This isn’t a business you can afford to make mistakes in, you know that.” “All right, all right. I’ll go to Tenneyson’s, but I won’t like it. When 11

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do I have to leave?” He leaned back in his leather chair with a self-satisfied grin on his face. She wanted to kick him. Preferably with her ice skates on. “You have reservations for tomorrow night. Go home, pack, and take your time driving up there. I don’t want you skidding on an icy patch along the way, or driving into a snow bank.” She rose from the chair she’d been lounging in. “You’re a real pal, Craig. I’ll remember this. And I’m a great driver, by the way.” “I’m only doing it for your own good, you know that. Try to have a nice time. At the very least, rest up. I want you in top form when you get back.” When she packed the last of her bags in her car and got in, she was still cursing him for sending her off like this. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the Lodge, this just wasn’t the time for her to make the trip. The New York streets were slush; the temperatures were warmer down here. But once she got outside the city and reached the higher altitudes, she knew there’d probably be at least three feet of snow on the ground, if not more. Winter in the Catskill Mountains. She loved the snow, the fresh, brisk air. It made her feel alive. She felt wild and free once outside the city. It was the same feeling she’d had when she’d met Khristos. Stop thinking about him. There’s no future in it. This is a fresh start. Use it. At least that’s what she tried to tell herself. How could a man she’d only known for such a short time make this kind of impression on her? It wasn’t fair. Was that the problem with the woman who’d attacked him? Had he made the same kind of impression on her? And she’d been a bit too unbalanced to accept it when the affair ended? He didn’t seem the type of man to settle into comfortable long-term relationships. He wasn’t the domesticated type. What would have happened if she had gone to bed with him that night? Would she have 12

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been able to handle a one-night stand? She’d never done it before. Well, it didn’t happen, so she didn’t have to worry about it. Now if she could just get him the hell off her mind. The problem was that every guy she’d met since then couldn’t measure up to her fantasy of a night with him. And she wasn’t willing to settle for second best. He was an artsy type. Probably moody. Certainly not the type she’d want under foot all the time. But, I’d have liked the chance to try. She let out a frustrated sigh. Stop it. He obviously wasn’t for you. She shoved in a Nickelback CD and turned up the volume. Maybe a little music would drown out her thoughts. The drive up to the Lodge was usually relaxing. She’d listen to a little hard music, drown out the memories, and ease back. Time to herself. When was the last time she’d gotten out of New York? Living in the city was always one thing after another, hardly giving her time to breathe. But the minute she left it behind, all the tension and stress seemed to ease away. She should probably thank Craig for setting this up. Already, she felt the strain in her body easing. She wasn’t much of a skier, and when she did ski, she stayed pretty much to the easier slopes. But if she got up really early in the morning, she could usually get the rink to herself. The recreational skaters showed up in the afternoons. By then, she’d be off the ice. She loved the ice. Always had. Another way of feeling free and unfettered, a place she didn’t feel clumsy. To breeze along. She’d let the music inside and just glide with the rhythm. There was nothing else when she was on the ice, it was all inside her. Couples dancing was something she’d tried when she’d first started competition. It hadn’t worked out. She was a loner, always had been. Skating with a partner made her feel confined somehow. Maybe that was the problem. She wasn’t meant to be with 13

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anyone—not on the ice, and maybe not in life. She never had been good at committing. Driving into Palmer, with traffic so congested, she could tell it was definitely "in" season. Palmer was a small, sleepy town in the off season, but now it was teaming with life. Slowly she weaved her way through Main Street and then made a right turn onto Bear Mountain Road. At the crest of Bear Mountain sat Tenneyson Lodge. She pulled into the circle before the main lodge building and got out. There were a number of outlying cabins on the property, and if Craig knew what was good for him, he’d have arranged one of those cabins for her, rather than a room in the main building. She liked her privacy and if she was here for a month, he damn well better have made sure she would have it. Lucky for him, he had. After she checked in and picked up her key and the little map, she drove the short distance to the cabin she’d be inhabiting for the next four weeks. Balancing her baggage, she opened the door and stepped inside. It was high-ceilinged, rustic, and had a loft upstairs for the sleeping quarters. The main room encompassed the majority of the cabin and doubled as the living and eating area, with a large fireplace at the back wall. The cathedral-style windows overlooked a breathtaking view of the snow-covered mountain. After dropping her bags, she walked toward a door on the left and found a small everything-at-your-fingertips kitchen. It included a microwave and dishwasher as well as all the conveniences one would require. She walked back into the living room and stood before the windows. She noticed it was starting to snow. The flakes flittered and swirled before the window. The sun hovered on the horizon and the world was entering twilight. A picture perfect view. It was silent, so very different from the city. One was never really alone there. Horns honking, buses and subway sounds, the smell of 14

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chestnuts and pretzels, and the hum of electricity—of life—always just beneath the fringes. But here, there was complete silence. She listened to the quiet, reaching for a sound of civilization, but there was nothing. She shivered. Was that why she didn’t take time to pause and catch a breath? Instead of feeling intimate, it felt…lonely. Like she was the only one left in the world. Suddenly, she didn’t want to be alone. Maybe it was just that she was tired. After all, it had been a long drive. A good night’s sleep might help. A man would be even better. She turned away from the window. The sudden drop in temperature in the room made her shiver. The fireplace was fueled by gas and she walked over and lit it, watching as it sprang to life. That was better. She’d warm up in no time. Who needed a man anyway. I do, a little voice inside her answered. Well, you don’t get one so just give it up, she reprimanded herself. She picked up her two bags and headed up the open spiral stairs to the loft above. She could see she’d have the CD player turned on quite a bit while she was here. Once she had all her bags unpacked, she took a quick shower and decided she should have an early night, especially if she planned to be up and on the ice before anyone else was around. When she was on the ice there was never room to feel lonely. Even though she was tired, she found when she got into bed she couldn’t sleep. Her mind did what it normally did when the world turned to nighttime—at least lately—she pretended she was dancing with Khristos, that his hands were on her and his mouth pulling the desire from her. Closing her eyes, her hands slid beneath her T-shirt to tease her nipples. Yes, that was it. Her body warmed to her fantasy. They were no longer dancing, but were naked, on a king-size bed covered in black 15

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satin sheets. Yeah, she liked to change the decor of the room now and then. Tonight it was black satin. She imagined his gorgeous body, his fingers tugging at her nipples. Her juices stirred and she felt the slick heat against her thighs. She reached a hand out to the drawer of the night table next to her bed, where she’d so recently stored her personal items. Opening the drawer, she felt around inside and found a girl’s best friend, her vibrator. She remembered the feel of Khristo’s hard cock as they danced. Only, in her dreams, it was everything she imagined it to be, and now she could see it. Oh, yes, it would fill her nicely. She lowered her hand with the vibrator to her vagina. In her mind, she imagined him above her, sliding his thick cock inside her. By touch alone, she set the vibrator to a low hum and slowly pushed it inside her slippery channel. With one hand she guided it. And with the other she teased her swollen clit. Her hips rose and fell with the imagined rhythm of Khristos moving powerfully above her. Oh, God, yes, he would fill her so well. The hum of the vibrator sang through her, and with long strokes and the steady pressure of her fingers on her clit, she came fast, throbbing with her release. Collapsing back on the bed, her pussy pulsed in the aftermath of her fantasy. Slowly pulling the vibrator from her clenching core, she set it aside. At least now she would be able to sleep, having released some of that built up tension. But it was never quite enough, and she was always left wanting in some way. It was something she hated admitting, the desire to be held and to cuddle. To be stroked. But this would have to do. It’s why she worked such long hours and never let up on herself. Because if she was too tired when she got back to her lonely apartment, she didn’t notice as much—she was too numb to care. But this, what Craig had forced her into, was to face the loneliness 16

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and see it for what it was. She either had to learn to live with it or find someone who could fill that aching emptiness. Unfortunately, she thought she had—she’d come so close and the moment of discovery had slipped through her fingers.

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CHAPTER 3

It was the weekend and there were kids all over the place. The indoor rink was out of the question. She’d driven in on a Sunday, so had missed a good share of the weekend crowd, but now it was Friday. Thank God she wasn’t lodged in the main building. She’d kept to herself since arriving. Tempted to go to the pub in the evenings, she’d stopped herself, not feeling ready for an encounter with trolling, unattached male college students. She knew before the month was up she’d probably break down and go in, but not just yet. Today she was headed out to the pond. The sun was high and bright, the air crisp. The ice wouldn’t be as sleek as inside, but the trade off was the open air and privacy. The Lodge didn’t do a lot of maintenance on the pond, but she’d mentioned she would be using it and they’d been nice enough to agree to clear it for her. Of course, she’d slipped them a little “incentive,” which never hurt. She’d had her skates sharpened the day before to give them a better 18

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edge for the rougher surface. Layering her clothes and slinging her white leather figure skates across her right shoulder, she headed out the door. The minute she stepped outside, the bite of winter wind struck her and she felt the icy air all the way down through to her lungs. Damn, it felt good. She crunched past the main parking lot and located the shoveled path that would lead to the pond. It was about half a mile from the lodge, secluded within the depths of the forest at the lower edge of the grounds. It was used rarely, mostly for special skating parties, as the usual visitors preferred the enclosed and heated ice rink attached to the main building. But she loved the pond. Had learned to skate in just such an outdoor atmosphere back in Minnesota. It was no hardship, and in fact, it was actually a treat. The crunch of snow beneath her feet was the only sound once she’d entered the path. The noise of voices of visitors heading to the ski lifts was muted. There’d been a fresh snowfall the night before and the trees were dressed in pristine white today. It was the winter silence that surrounded her. Winter silence was different from lonely silence. One was filled with life, the other a sort of fear. She liked the winter silence. It wasn’t just quiet, it was beautiful, like a piece of art. There were several large fallen logs scattered around the pond and she brushed one off, sat down and unzipped her boots. Placing them to the side, she grabbed her skates, put them on and proceeded to lace them up. She stood and walked to the edge of the pond. Before stepping on the ice, she removed the blue rubber skate guards protecting the blades, and set them where she would find them when she came off the ice. 19

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For the next two hours she moved through her exercises and routines, shedding first her jacket, then her vest, until she was clad only in her pants, shirt, and sweatshirt, and a sheen of sweat against her skin. Having consumed as much energy as she dared, she finally skated back to the pond edge and halted in a perfect T-stop at the rim of the ice. Raising one leg, she reached down to slide her fingers along the edge of the blade and removed the excess ice, then did the same to the other. Satisfied, she replaced the skate guards, made her way back over to the log, and sat down. It had been a good workout. The fresh air had invigorated her. Once she’d unlaced and removed her skates and took off the guards, she picked up a towel and carefully removed any excess moisture from the stainless steel blades. Even though these were her practice skates and not used for performance, it paid to be extra vigilant in their care so they didn’t rust. The least nick or rust in the blade and her precision movements could send her face first onto the ice. Not a pretty picture. Satisfied, she replaced the guards and tied the laces together. Her arms and legs tingled from the exertions. She inhaled deeply. She would come back this afternoon. It was peaceful here. Maybe she’d try out a few new maneuvers she’d been thinking about. The ice wasn’t as badly rutted as she thought it would be. As she turned to head back down the path to her cabin, a glint out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Was there another path? And what were those strange formations? They looked like…animals? She headed toward the path that veered off from her own. It was well shoveled as the one to the lodge was, and the first odd formation she noticed was about fifty yards from where she was. Carefully she made her way along toward the first figure. When she got to it, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She knelt down next to it. It was a rabbit. She pulled off her glove and slid her hand along the smooth, hard surface. 20

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An ice sculpture. She leaned closer and found the detail was just as amazing as the fairy sculpture she’d admired so many months ago. Her heart fluttered in her chest. She raised her gaze, squinted, and surveyed farther down the path. It couldn’t be. With halting steps she continued walking, almost like a sleepwalker. She passed a white fox, a raccoon, a snow goose; none were tinted like the fairy, but still superb in workmanship. One after the other, more creatures captured in ice marked the trail, until she halted before a large, old, weather-beaten red barn. There was nothing else around, only the barn. One of the large doors was partially opened, and she slid it farther until there was enough room for her to slip inside. The interior was murky, the only light coming in from several small windows scattered across the top edge of the walls and the door she’d just entered. At the back was what appeared to be a large stainless steel freezer. But it was what was in front of the freezer, at the center of the large unencumbered room that caught her eye. Someone was kneeling before a block of ice using a hammer and chisel, and a chainsaw was lying next to him. Apparently he hadn’t heard her enter or was ignoring her. “Hello?” she called tentatively, her voice echoing throughout the mostly vacant interior. She saw his hand holding the hammer pause in midair. “I don’t care who you are, but get out.” Even with its bitter edge, a chill raced through her as she recognized the voice. Three months she’d yearned for a sight of this man. And he couldn’t even be bothered to turn around to look at her. His hair was longer than she remembered, curling around the nape of his neck. Her eyes dropped to a bottle of clear liquid setting next to him within arm’s reach. Gin? Vodka? Or maybe it just contained water. “Khristos?” She’d be damned if she was going to leave without at least seeing him face to face. 21

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He whirled around still in a crouched position and glared at her, looking every bit like a panther prepared to attack. “Who the hell do you think you are? You’re trespassing. I told you to leave,” he snarled. She pulled herself up to her full height. She would not show her fear at the angry, ferocious image he presented. “Not until you answer me. I’ve waited a long time to find out if you were real or simply a figment of my imagination. You are Khristos DuMichael, aren’t you?” Slowly he unwound from his crouched position, and the light filtering in struck him. She was shocked at what she saw. This was not the same suave man who had swept her off her feet at the dinner dance. His beard-covered cheeks were hollow, as were his eyes. He was much thinner than when she’d last seen him, and he wavered slightly as he rose to his full height. “My God, what’s happened to you?” She started to take several steps toward him. He put up a hand. “I don’t want you here. How did you find me?” “Do you know who I am?” How could he possibly remember her after their brief acquaintance? Especially considering what came after. His steady, dark gaze burned into her. “Yes. I know who you are.” “I’m surprised you remember. I wanted to see you at the hospital, but they moved you, and I couldn’t find out where you were.” “I didn’t want you there. You should have left when I first told you to. I repeat, how did you find me?” She waved a hand toward the door. “The ice sculptures. They led me here.” He gave a rough laugh. “I doubt they led you anywhere. I expect you were just snooping. What I meant was what are you doing in Palmer? Shouldn’t you be off performing someplace?” She was surprised. “You know what I do?” “You’re not answering my question.” “I’m staying at the lodge. My manager wanted me to take some 22

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time off.” “So you followed the path from the lodge.” He looked past her. “Well, you can just find your way back again. I don’t want you here.” “What’s happened to you? Why are you like this?” “I want to be left alone.” “Why are you hiding like this? You disappeared from New York. No one could find you.” “I left New Your to be alone. I’d done enough damage. I wasn’t about to pursue a relationship with you or anyone else.” He ran a hand across his eyes, then turned, picked up the bottle and raised it to his lips. He took a long swallow. “What are you doing to yourself? I almost didn’t recognize you.” He lowered the bottle and ran the back of his hand across his mouth. “I’m not the same man you met. Leave.” She could see he wasn’t the same man, but what had happened to him? Obviously, he’d recovered physically. Did he blame himself for what had happened? Why? Suddenly he turned away, crouched down, and picked up the hammer and chisel. He’d dismissed her without a word. “Fine,” she said to his back. “I’m leaving. You want your privacy, you’ve got it.” She turned and walked out of the barn shoving the doors closed behind her. She stomped away. Men! Something was eating at him, but it was unlikely she could help him. She didn’t know him well enough for him to trust her. She was halfway back to the lodge when she slowed her pace. She looked at the ice figures on either side of the path. His sentries. Why had he made them? And why was he keeping himself isolated here? He had looked ravaged as though something was eating at him—a lion with a thorn stuck in his paw, worrying it, but unable to remove it. He hadn’t seemed like a man who drank himself into oblivion when 23

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she’d met him. He’d been self-assured, very much in control. What was he attempting to forget…or did he still experience some physical pain and it was his way of numbing it? She guessed she’d never find out. Three months ago, they might have enjoyed an interlude. But now? She doubted she’d ever see him again. He’d made it clear he wasn’t interested. So, now what did she do? Move on with her life. There were other fish in the pond, after all. So why did she feel like crying? That unfinished story would never be completed.

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CHAPTER 4

Two days later as Natalie opened the door to step outside, she paused and blinked. On the small porch was a carved statue that stood approximately twelve inches in height and about the same in width. She reached down to pick it up. It wasn’t an ice sculpture, but was made from wood, and polished to a high sheen, with a smooth, satiny finish. It was exquisite. She knew immediately who had left it. But why was the question? It was a very delicate rendition of a gazelle in flight. Khristos was the only one it could have come from. But how had he known which cabin was hers? That was probably a stupid question—all he had to do was ask at the front desk most likely. If the barn belonged to him, he probably was well-known and whoever was at the front desk wouldn’t have balked at giving him the information. Or he could have simply watched and followed her some time during the last couple of days. 25

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But why? He’d made it quite obvious he wanted nothing to do with her. Pretty gazelle. It’s what he’d called her that night. They’d exchanged so few words and she probably remembered every one of them. Was this a peace offering? With the gazelle resting in the curve of one arm, she turned to walk back inside. When had he left it? Had it been sitting there all night? She turned and scanned the scenery before her. Was he watching her now to see what she would do? Her eyes began to water from the glare of the early morning sun reflected on the snow. Finally, she entered the cabin and closed the door. Walking to the coffee table, she set down the figure. Could he possibly have created such a fine piece of work in only two days? She picked it up again and looked at the base. There were initials burned into a corner of it—KDM. Khristos DuMichael. If it wasn’t something he’d done in the last two days, when had he done it? And why? If he’d been thinking of her the same way she had thought of him over the last three months, why hadn’t he contacted her? She shook her head and set the statue back on the coffee table. If she wanted answers, she’d have to ask him. She wasn’t sure she was prepared to do that just yet. She didn’t fancy another visit to the barn just to be rebuffed again. She would just continue on her way to her usual workout and consider how to respond to this offering later. It was only as she passed the lodge and stood at the entrance to the path, that she realized she was headed to the pond rather than the enclosed ice rink. She’d hesitated going back to the pond, worried she might accidentally run into Khristos, and not wanting to see him after his earlier dismissal. Once on the ice, her total concentration was turned to the execution 26

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of her routine movements. She had no idea how long she’d been there, but she’d just landed from a toe loop jump when a movement out of the corner of her eye caused her to fumble as she lost her concentration. She executed a swift, slightly ungainly turn and with a diagonal slice with the edge of her blade came to a stop to determine what the movement was she had caught in her peripheral vision. Breathing hard from her exertions, the sheen of sweat skimming her skin, her gaze fixed on what had diverted her attention. A dark figure stood at the edge of the pond watching her. Trying not to assume too much, she glided smoothly to the edge of the pond and stopped, but made no effort to pick up her guards and step onto the bank. They stared at each other silently, for long minutes. He looked better today than he had when she saw him at the barn. His eyes didn’t appear as haunted, and the weary lines she’d noted didn’t seem as prominent. Finally, he leaned down and unscrewed the cap from a thermos and poured out some of the steaming liquid into a Styrofoam cup. He stood up and offered it to her. She raised a brow. “Hot chocolate.” She nodded and accepted the cup. Taking a tentative sip she found it had a rich, smooth homemade taste, not the watered-down powdered variety. “Did you make this?” she wanted to know. He had poured himself a cup and was in the process of screwing the cap back on. “Yes.” “It’s very good. Thank you. But why?” He straightened. “I thought you might want a break.” “Not good enough.” There was more to it than that. “I didn’t think you were the type to want to make a man grovel.” She took another sip from the cup. “And you might be wrong. After 27

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all, you don’t really know me that well, do you?” He ran his leather glove-clad hand through his hair. “No, you’re right. But, then, you don’t know me that well either.” “But I was willing to learn. You, on the other hand couldn’t get rid of me fast enough. A woman can take a hint.” “I know it’s no excuse, but I’ve been up here the last two months by myself. Me, the vodka, and the ice. I wasn’t prepared for company.” He paused. “For you.” “But why are you here?” “I needed some time away from everyone. I need to make some changes in my life. Tawny’s attack made me realize a few things about myself. My mother means well, but I needed to sort myself out. I thought this would be the best place to do it.” “With a fifth of vodka?” He shrugged. “It kept me from thinking about you. I wasn’t ready to face you or the memory of you.” She handed him the cup and then leaned down to grab her guards and put them on, needing time to think about what he was telling her. He’d thought about her. Just as she'd thought about him. It hadn’t been all one-sided. His hand shot out as she stepped onto the bank. He steadied her and then dropped his arm back to his side. The strength of that simple steadying touch seemed to shoot right through her. She hadn’t imagined the impact he'd had on her—still had, apparently. He walked with her back to the log, where she sat and began to unlace her skates. “Thank you for the gazelle. It’s beautiful.” “You’re welcome.” She put her boots on and zipped them up. “Why?” Without looking at him, she commenced cleaning the blades of her skates. “A peace offering, I guess. I think I always meant for you to have it. 28

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I guess I was waiting for the right time to give it to you.” “It certainly doesn’t look like something you whipped up in the last few days.” “It isn’t.” She put the guards back on the skates and tied the laces together. He was sitting very close to her, leaning forward, his forearms resting on his widespread thighs. She had an urge to run her hands over those jean-covered muscles, but resisted it. Turning her head, she looked at him. He was so close. And he was watching her. God, his eyes were so intensely blue, rimmed in black. So beautiful. This close she could see the white line of a scar along the left side of his face, mostly covered with the dark beard he now sported. A reminder of his close call with death. Unable to resist, she reached out to touch his face and he jerked back. She dropped her hand and looked away. “I don’t understand you. What do you want from me?” He took her gloved hand. She felt him remove the glove and she turned her head to look at him. He brought her hand to the side of his face. She felt the silky coarseness of his whiskers against her palm. He stroked it along the length of his jaw and pressed it to his lips. She inhaled sharply. “I want to start over. As though we’re meeting for the first time.” Slowly she pulled her hand away. It tingled from his touch. She wanted to grab him and kiss him senseless right now. “I don’t know if we can. How do you know I haven’t found someone else? It’s been three months.” She had no idea why she was trying to goad him. Maybe it was just getting back at him for his treatment of her in the barn. “Are you?” “What?” His intense, burning eyes distracted her thoughts. 29

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“Seeing someone. Are you seeing someone else?” She sighed. “No.” She saw a hint of the old Khristos as he smiled at her and his eyes glimmered. “Ah. You’re just trying to get back at me for the other day. I’ve apologized for that.” “You’re right, you have. I’m just not sure I’m ready to forgive you for it yet. And besides… There’s the fact you haven’t tried to contact me in three months. If I hadn’t shown up here, would I ever have heard from you again?” “Yes. I couldn’t get you out of my mind. I just needed some time.” “And I was supposed to wait in limbo for you to get yourself sorted out?” He looked away from her out over the pond. “I don’t know, Natalie. So much has changed. But the one thing I do know is that no woman has stuck in my memory the way you have. I don’t know that the man who danced with you is the same one who wants to be with you now. But I would like a chance to see what is between us. If anything. Have dinner with me tonight.” “I don’t know, Khristos. I don’t know if I want to expose myself to your whims.” “What has happened is not a whim, Natalie. I can’t explain it to you now. Maybe later. I don’t want to take the chance on hurting you the way I obviously hurt Tawny. Enough that she wanted to see me dead.” “She was unbalanced. The police officer who came to see me after the attack said she’d agreed to psychiatric treatment.” He nodded. “Yes, I know. But there have been a long line of women in my life. None that have touched me. I felt nothing in here.” He lifted a fist to his chest. “It has always been strictly about sexual gratification. I always thought it was mutual. I steered away from women who I thought would expect more.” “And now?” 30

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“I don’t know. We only met briefly, but something about you touched me in ways the others haven’t. I tried to tell myself it was simply sex. But the memory of you gives me no peace. I need to find out why. Or at least to exorcise this need to be with you.” “Exorcise it, huh? Sounds about right.” Not the best way to put it, but accurate, she guessed. They were both silent for a long time. “I’ve thought about you as well,” she finally admitted. “It’s part of why Craig sent me here. My concentration hasn’t been what it should be.” He turned to look at her. “I thought you said you weren’t dating.” “No. Craig is my manager. I asked him to help me locate you, but he had no better luck finding you than I did. You’ve managed to hide yourself very well.” As she admitted this, a question entered her mind. Had Craig known Khristos would be here? The next time she spoke with him, she was going to ask him about that straight out. She wouldn’t put it past him. “So, you’ll have dinner with me?” She stood up and slung the skates over her shoulder, then pulled on the glove he’d removed. “Tell you what. I’ll fix dinner. Might as well put the cabin kitchen facilities to some good use. And it will give us a chance to talk.” She saw the glimmer of a smile again and his eyebrow lifted. “Talk? If you say so. Can you cook?” “As a matter of fact, I’m a very good cook. I certainly won’t poison you. Six o’clock?” He nodded. “I’ll see you then.” He looked down the path toward the lodge. “Would you like me to walk back with you?” “No, I’ll be fine.” The walk would give her time to mull over what she’d just committed herself to. “I’ll see you later.” “I’m looking forward to it.”

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CHAPTER 5

Did she know how to cook? She’d show him. Of course, it wasn’t easy locating the ingredients she would need in a small town like Palmer. Unlike New York, where anything she needed she’d be able to find easily. She’d settled on a fairly simple Chinese recipe—some steamed chicken and fried rice. It didn’t call for much in the line of exotic ingredients, and she was sure she could concoct something to act as a steamer, since she obviously hadn’t carted her own along with her. And she doubted very much it was part of the stock accessories included in this kitchen. As soon as she’d returned to her cabin, she inventoried what was in the cupboard. She hadn’t planned on inviting guests, so what she’d bought was pretty plain. She had brown sugar, salt, cooking oil, and eggs, but the rest of the stuff she’d need to buy. She grabbed her purse and car keys and headed down the mountain 32

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to Main Street. There ought to be a sufficiently large enough grocery store to pick up everything. The afternoon flew by quickly and as five-thirty rolled around, her stomach started to churn. Would he come? Dinner was in the last stages of preparation. So far it had gone smoothly, the table was set, and she had changed her clothes. Somehow she’d managed to pack one outfit she thought suitable for this dinner. She now wore a pair of navy blue silk pants and a lightweight navy silk mandarin style jacket. The jacket was trimmed with crimson frog closures and she wore a red silk camisole beneath. Her feet were encased in black leather flats. It was one of her favorite, semi-dressy outfits that worked for most occasions. And it packed reasonably well. It had been an afterthought—an outfit she’d thrown in at the last minute, just before closing the suitcase. A firm knock sounded at the door and she glanced up at the clock over the stove in the kitchen. Six o’clock sharp. He was certainly prompt. One last glance at everything, then she smoothed a hand over her ribs and down her hips. Okay. Taking a deep breath, she walked to the door. She opened it and the frigid air drove through her in sharp contrast to the warmth of the room behind her. Khristos stood on the step, more hungry wolf than man. What is it that attracts a woman to the wild beast, thinking they can tame it? She felt like Little Red Riding Hood inviting the predator inside to eat his fill. “Hello. You didn’t change your mind.” She stepped away from the entrance and he walked inside. He handed her the bouquet of white lilies. “Did you really think I wouldn’t come?” “Thank you,” she said as she accepted the flowers. “I’ll have to see if I can find something to put them in. Why don’t you have a seat on the couch. I’ll be right back.” 33

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She walked into the kitchen and rummaged through the cupboards, finally locating a plain white vase large enough to hold the beautiful flowers. She walked back into the living room carrying the vase and set it on the dinner table. Khristos was standing before the fireplace gazing into the flames, his hands clasped behind his back. She walked around to join him. “Dinner will be ready shortly. I hope you like Chinese?” He pivoted to face her. “Chinese?” A look she couldn’t interpret crossed his face. He turned back to the fireplace. “Yes, as a matter of fact I do like Chinese food.” That look made her nervous. “Would you like something to drink? I have some white wine chilling in the refrigerator. Or something else?” “Yes. A glass of wine would be nice.” His mood seemed rather introspective this evening. He was very quiet. She went back into the kitchen and poured two glasses of wine. She checked the food and after taking him the glass, returned to the kitchen to transfer the food to the serving dishes. She was surprised when he picked up a set of the chopsticks she’d set out and began eating with them with an ease she was surprised at. “You’ve used chopsticks quite a bit? Not everyone is comfortable using them.” “I lived in China for two years. It would have been rather ungracious not to have learned how to manipulate them easily.” That surprised her. “You lived in China?” He nodded. “It’s where I learned to sculpt in ice. I was on a tour some years ago and saw some photographs from an area in the Heileijiang Province, in the northeast part of China. I was intrigued and ended up spending two years there learning the craft and quite a bit about the culture.” “It must have been very interesting. You totally immersed yourself in the culture, I assume?” 34

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“Yes. It was the only way to truly understand the art. There was an exhibition in Shanghai not long ago. Many of the artists were people I’d lived with during that time.” She nodded. “I saw an article about it. The sculptures were very beautiful. Is that why I’ve never seen sculptures like yours before— with the same depth of intricacy to them?” “Possibly. It’s hard to say. I hope to return there one day.” “You mean to visit?” He looked at her with a level gaze. There was an interesting quietness to that look. “No. To live. The simplicity of the people there. Well, there’s nothing to compare.” “Yet you live and work in New York City—one of the most complicated and noisiest places you could possibly have chosen.” “True. But it’s where my family resides. I’m part owner in the business, so it wouldn’t be right to just leave them high and dry. After all, I was the one who talked them into starting it.” She knew from her questioning, that the ice sculpture at the dinner dance had come from The Ice Palace, a well-respected source for custom ice carvings. She turned back to eating and there was silence for a time. “The chicken is very good,” he said, after a moment. “Not many people take the time to prepare from scratch these days. Takeout is very easy.” She sat back in her chair. “I like to cook. Sometimes I think we move too quickly through life and it doesn’t give us time to enjoy the simpler pleasures.” He nodded. “Yes, I agree. A number of the ice carvers now use machines to create, but I still prefer to carve by hand. My brother tries to convince me to modernize.” “Oh, but I don’t think they would have the same energy, would they? It’s like the difference between an original painting and printed 35

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copies. It would be missing some level of individuality, wouldn’t it?” He smiled. “You understand my perspective. To stamp out piece after piece would most likely save us money on costs, but it would destroy the creativity of each piece. I’m trying to work out some sort of compromise with him. He can save some money; I can be allowed my creativity.” She noted he’d finished eating and pushed back her chair. “Let me clear the table and I’ll bring tea in. Why don’t you go into the living area?” He rose from his chair. “No, let me help with these. You’ve done all the work so far.” He picked up his plate and several of the serving dishes and followed her into the kitchen. She set her dishes on the counter. “You can put them over there,” she said as she turned to find a tray to carry in the teapot, cups, and cookies she’d made earlier. She had her back to him. She felt him behind her. All of a sudden she realized how very small the kitchen was. “Let me help,” he murmured. She felt his breath against her neck. “I don’t think this is helping,” she responded breathlessly. She felt his lips at her neck. “Since I arrived tonight, I’ve wanted to do this.” He nuzzled just above the mandarin collar. “Do you know how sexy I find you? Everything about you.” Her hands shook as she placed the teacups and saucers on the tray. “Y-you don’t know me.” He grazed along the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. His beard tickled her skin. She wanted to turn around and rip off the black turtleneck sweater he wore. His closeness did such arousing things to her. “Tea,” she gasped. “In the living room.” She scooted away from him. He stepped back and his dark eyes seemed to penetrate her clothing, 36

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her flesh. “I know enough that I want to know more. I warned you that first night what I wanted to do to you.” Warmth rose to her cheeks at the remembrance of exactly what he’d said on that long-ago night. She ignored him, picked up the tray, and walked with determination to the coffee table in the living area. She set the tray down and poured the tea into the cups. In order to keep herself from reaching out for him, she placed a cookie on each of the plates. He came and sat down beside her. Very close. He accepted the plate she handed him. She watched as he took a bite of the cookie, her eyes fixed on the dessert. “Almond cookies. You made these as well, I assume?” Her voice was lost to her, her throat dry. She nodded her head. “You’re very domestic. Considering how much you must travel, I’m surprised.” Slowly, she raised her gaze. He was watching her closely. She tried to swallow. She knew by his look where this evening would lead to. But then, hadn’t she known it all along? Starting with three months ago? Turning away, she picked up her own cup. She sipped at the tea in order to help ease the dryness in her throat. She licked her lips. “I guess it’s why I like to do these types of things. Being on the road so much, I end up eating out more than I like. The routine of cooking helps me unwind.” He nodded. “Creating from the ice does that for me, so I understand. When did you learn you wanted to skate?” She sat back, took another sip from her cup. “I think I’ve always known. I never felt there was a time when I didn’t love the ice.” “Are you an only child?” She nodded. “Yes. I grew up in northern Minnesota—land of snow and ice.” She laughed. “My parents had to bribe me to come off the ice. 37

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I won a few local competitions, then one of the Olympic coaches spotted me, so I went on to bigger and brighter competitions. I took that as far as I could and for the last three years I’ve had Craig as my manager and I’ve been skating professionally.” “I’ve watched you. I saw your performance before the dinner that night. You become a part of the ice when you skate. I could tell you love it.” “Yes, I do. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t skate.” She looked up at him. “But then, with each of your sculptures, you leave a part of yourself in the ice—in your creations, don’t you? Doesn’t it bother you to know they melt away in a matter of a few hours?” He was silent for a long moment. “The things that give us joy aren’t meant to last forever. I don’t look to create a memory of me in the ice—they are a moment of beauty to be enjoyed and remembered—not to be revisited. Someone a hundred years from now can’t understand the needs of the artist who created a painting, or a sculpture crafted today. The emotions of the moment. One cannot truly own art—it is a translation of emotion on canvas, in clay, or whatever the artist chooses to use to express.” She looked at him with new eyes. He wasn’t some distant, unfeeling god. There was so much depth in his words. She set down her cup and moved towards him—drawn to him. She understood him. On her knees she faced him and cupped his jaw with her hands. They stared at each other for long moments. “Make love to me, Khristos DuMichael. God, you set me afire with your passion. Even if it’s only for tonight, I want to share your fire.” He didn't wait for a second offer. He cupped her head and crashed his mouth over hers. And as he did that night long ago, he pulled her wild desire to the surface where he could sup from it at his leisure. In seconds it was as though every nerve in her body flared hot, fanned by his touch. His raw hunger drew from her willing lips. Theirs 38

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was an avalanche of emotion gathering rapid momentum, like a downhill skier, each touch spiraling them ever closer to the heart of the blaze.

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CHAPTER 6

He dragged her across his thighs, tilted her head back and scored her throat with his mouth, trailing hot kisses down to the opening of her jacket. His hands unbuttoned the front and pulled it aside as his lips traveled still downward. He pushed the jacket from her shoulders. “Beautiful. Such silk.” Once the jacket was gone, he turned her so she faced him, moving her legs so she straddled his hips, and yanked her forward, flush with his body. She felt his erection, hard and insistent at her center. His heat was like a roaring furnace. He arched her toward him, trailed kisses across the perimeter of the lacy camisole. Lowering his head, he sucked her silk-covered nipple into his mouth, tongued it to a hard peak. Sensations caused by his mouth, pulling and sucking swirled around her. One broad hand braced her back, and with the other he dragged the slender strap down her arm, baring her other breast. He stroked it with 40

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his fingers as he suckled at her bud. A whimper erupted from deep in her throat and she felt the liquid cream gather at her center. Sizzling tension coiled through her as he continued to feast. “Khristos. Oh, God, I’m burning up. I need to have you, to feel you.” He lifted his head and she was burned by the intense blue fire in his eyes. “You are a beauty,” he rasped. “I once told you I would know every inch of your flesh, and I mean to take my time to do just that.” “You’re killing me,” she cried as his mouth returned to lick and circle at her breast. “Your taste is intoxicating. Addicting. Like savoring a sweet forbidden fruit.” He swiveled and lay her back on the couch, and proceeded to undress her completely. “I want to see this dazzling body that floats across the ice like a gazelle. I’ve watched you, you know?” When she was naked before him, he stared down at her. Then he slid his hands upwards along the insides of her thighs through the slick sheen of her desire. “Your heat would melt every block of ice in my freezer, do you know that? I knew you would. So much passion encased in this beautiful package. Mine to unwrap. Mine to take.” She reached for him, wanting to remove his clothing as well, wanting to touch skin to skin. He stopped her from touching him. “I want to see you,” she protested. “Not yet. First,” he kissed the palm of each hand, then the sensitive pulse at her wrists, “I must taste every inch of you. If I remove my clothes, I’ll be inside you in a matter of seconds.” “I want you there,” she whispered. “Deep inside me. I’ve dreamed of you filling me.” “Soon,” he promised. He proceeded to lick a path along each arm, 41

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across her shoulder, and back down through the valley between her breasts. A trail of fire followed wherever he touched. “Every. Inch.” Natalie wasn’t sure she would live through his perusal. Her pussy pulsed with the need for release. She felt her climax close, she just needed— She arched as his tongue swept across her clit and entered her pussy. Screaming with the force of her climax, she arched high. And he sank his tongue deeper, sucking harder. It was as though her whole body was engulfed by the orgasm. Stars and colors swam before her eyes. She dropped back onto the couch. But he wasn’t finished. He trailed hot kisses down the insides of her legs, lifted first one foot and then the other, trailing more kisses along the sensitive arches. She shivered with the pleasurable sensations. “Turn over.” He helped her to change position so she lay on her stomach. “Why?” “I told you. Every inch.” He leaned over her and continued the exploration of her body. “Such smooth, silky skin. Do you know how many times I’ve envisioned this over the last months? Having you like this?” His hands moved down to her waist as his mouth continued to feather kisses along her neck, down her back. She gasped when she felt his lips on her ass cheeks. Felt the nip of his teeth, then his tongue traced the crease down, all the way down to her pussy. The sensations were so erotic she shivered with the anticipation. “Khristos,” she cried, overwhelmed by so much pleasure. “Please,” she begged. He positioned her legs farther apart and kissed her sensitive inner thigh. She gasped as she felt his fingers separate her labia lips and enter her pussy. His teeth at her buttocks teased as his fingers sank deep 42

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inside her. Withdrew. And drove deep yet again. She couldn’t help but undulate against him. The heat crescendoed yet again inside. Using his other hand he began to tease her clit, his fingers driving her higher and higher and she couldn’t catch her breath. “Jesus, you’re so wet for me, gazelle. So damn hot. Come for me again. I want to drown in your creamy pleasure. Come for me.” And come she did, spasm after spasm consuming her as she gripped the cushions beneath her, crying out his name, over and over again. Finally she lay quiet, panting in the aftermath. He stroked her hair, her back, soothing her, quieting her. “Khristos, oh, my God. What have you done to me?” she murmured. She felt the couch shift as he rose. She watched as he first pulled the black turtleneck sweater over his head. Next he pulled his shoes and socks off and, then he unzipped his pants. She couldn’t takes her eyes off the bulge hidden beneath them as she waited in anticipation. She didn’t think there was an ounce of energy left, but as each piece of clothing revealed more and more of his magnificent body, a resurgence of electricity shot through her. As he held his pants in his hand, he reached inside the pocket and pulled out two small packets and placed them on the coffee table. When the last piece of clothing dropped to the floor, Natalie rose from the couch and walked toward him. He stood waiting for her. Not an ounce of extra flesh—hard muscle, lean and firm. His thick cock jutted out from a black thatch of short curling hair. He was a dark god and hers to explore. She placed her palms on his hair-covered chest. Her eyes centered on the pale scar at his shoulder. She touched it and looked up at him, remembering that night vividly. “Does this cause you pain?” He shook his head, his eyes glittering with dark passion. “No pain from the scar. It has healed. My ache centers much lower.” 43

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Smiling, she licked her lips as her hand trailed downward. Oh, yes. This man was everything she’d dream of. More than she’d dreamed. She followed the path of the curling short hair down to where it ended, and with both hands she circled the engorged purple head of his penis, the interlaced veins prominent, bulging, needy. She sank to her knees. His fingers laced through her hair as she stroked the silk-encased steel shaft. Lowering her head she circled the ridge with her tongue, then traced the slit, tasting the salty male desire. She drew the head of his cock inside her moist depths, sucked and swirled her tongue. He moaned, a deep sound rumbling through his chest. His fingers tightened in her hair, and she released him from her mouth and with her tongue traced along the length of his shaft. Leaning closer, she bathed his sacs, then back along his length of flesh, and again took the head fully into her mouth. “No more,” he groaned as he pulled her to her feet and dropped his head to claim her mouth with his kiss. With his hands cupping her ass, he lifted her and she wound her legs around his hips, opening to him. He rubbed his cock along the entrance to her pussy, across her clit. Oh, he felt so good, and she was so ready to have him inside her. As he rubbed himself against her, he drove his tongue into her mouth, developing a rhythm that drove her crazy. Finally she freed her mouth. “Fuck me, Khristos. I can’t wait any longer.” He stopped moving and gently put her back on her feet. Once more he claimed her lips, then turned away to pick up one of the packets on the table. She stopped him and took the packet from him. “Let me,” she whispered. He released it into her hand. She knelt back down, ripped the package open, and removed the contents. Placing the circle over the tip of his penis, she slowly sheathed him, then kissed the tip. 44

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He lifted her and again she wound her legs around his hips. “Guide me inside,” he rasped as he pulled her close. She reached down and encircled him, guiding the tip to her entrance. She gasped as she felt him enter her. She groaned deep as his width parted her lips, entered her, expanded her to take him. “Yes, oh yes.” He walked them to the couch and lay her down, coming down above her, sinking deeper into her welcoming depths, steadying himself with his hands above her. “Tell me if it’s too much.” She shook her head. “It’s not. I’ve waited too long.” She arched her hips. He began to move in a slow, driving rhythm, one she matched with her counter movements. It seemed she couldn’t get enough, needed more of him, all of him. He began to move faster, to rotate his hips. She lifted her pelvis and he sank deeper inside, then retreated, and penetrated. Wild lust overcame her and she drove harder against him. He echoed her movements, matched her need, grabbed her hips, changed slightly, and now the friction against her clit sent her spiraling out of control. Once more he pulled her up, she wrapped her arms around him and he held her close as the powerful spasming of his climax echoed through her. Overwhelmed by the emotion, tears sprang to her eyes and she nuzzled her head into the crook of his damp neck. “Did I hurt you?” There was concern in his voice as he pulled her away from him to force her to look at him. He began to carefully raise her. She shook her head. “No. I want to stay like this. You aren’t hurting me. It was just so much—pleasure.” 45

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He pulled her against him, stroking her back. “For me as well.” Long moments passed and he lifted her up, withdrawing from her body. She felt totally boneless, unable to move herself. He laid her on the couch and stood. “Where—?” “Up the stairs and to the right,” she murmured, closing her eyes. She didn’t think she could possibly move a muscle. When he came back downstairs he carried a washcloth and proceeded to use it on her. His touch was gentle. Caring. She expected him to immediately dress and leave her. She was surprised when she again opened her eyes and he stood above her holding two glasses of wine. He set them on the table, then picked her up and sat down with her splayed across his lap. She wound her arms around his neck and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I thought you would leave.” “Do you want me to?” “No.” She toyed with the short, springy curls on his chest. “Where do we go from here?” She was actually afraid of hearing his answer. “To bed would be my guess. And more of what we were just doing.” She smiled and tilted her head up to give him a long, lingering kiss. “I like that idea.” He reached down to pick up one of the glasses of wine. He held it to her lips and she took a small sip. Then he finished the glass and set it down. “Beyond tonight, I don’t know where we go. I don’t think I can reason beyond the next hour or so.” He tilted her chin up so she was looking at him. “What I do know is that was the most explosive sex I’ve ever had with anyone. I just don’t know where it leaves us beyond the immediate future.” “It was for me as well.” 46

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“When do you need to return to New York?” “I have about two and a half more weeks here. Then I go on tour for the next three months.” He nodded. “That’s what I figured.” He lifted her to her feet and followed her up. He clasped her hand and led her to the spiral staircase. “We don’t have to figure it all out tonight. Right now, I want to make love to you again. This time in a bed.” She followed him up the stairs, already wet with anticipation. She wondered vaguely how much of the next few weeks would actually be spent out of bed after tonight.

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CHAPTER 7

Natalie lay on her side, and the tips of his fingers played along the curve of her naked hip and down her thigh. He lowered his head and kissed the flesh of her buttock, then ran his tongue along the crease at her thigh and she shuddered from the sensations it aroused. She couldn’t help but smile, content in a way she’d never experienced before. Skating and making love had become the focus of her existence over the last two weeks. And making love with Khristos was more than she ever could have thought it would be, but she refused to consider anything beyond these moments they shared together. “Did you enjoy dinner?” he murmured, turning her onto her back. He lowered his head and captured one of her dusky nipples in his mouth and sucked. Desire spiraled and she arched toward him, cupping his head between her hands. She knew it couldn’t last forever. She meant to hold on to every single moment she spent with him until she knew it had to 48

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end. “Dinner was wonderful,” she responded. “I didn’t think you knew how to cook.” He’d prepared dinner for her, which included spaghetti in meat sauce with meatballs, a fresh loaf of Italian bread, and a chilled bottle of Chianti. Two half-finished glasses of red wine now sat neglected on the small bedside night table. Was the added poignancy she felt because she knew that eventually this would all have to end? Her mind refused to grasp the meaning of that thought. She didn’t want to think about being without him— without this closeness she felt right now, without his warmth. He raised his head and smiled at her. “Yes, I can cook. And boil water.” Again he lowered his head to capture the tight nipple of her other breast. She moaned. “And you cook very well,” she answered, “among other things that you seem to be quite expert at.” Again, he looked up at her and grinned. Then he nibbled at her neck. God, it would be so easy to lose her heart to this man. She refused to admit to herself it was something that had already happened. He worked his way down her body with his mouth as his hands kneaded and molded her breasts. Down across her ribs, her stomach, stopping to dip his tongue into her navel, causing her to shudder with the divine sensation. He moved his hands to her hips. “I should sculpt you. Would you model for me?” Her mind swirled, fogged with his scent all around her, their scents mingling. He pulled her thighs apart and settled between them. “Like this,” he murmured and she felt his breath. “After we make love. As we make love. A pink blush to the ice, the same way your skin glows and responds to my touch.” She felt him separate her labia lips, felt the cool whisper of his breath. His tongue lapped at her juices, long swipes, lingering over her 49

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clit, circling. She undulated her hips, needed to feel his hard cock pressing, separating, and filling her. “You’re hot, gazelle, so damned hot, you burn me.” He placed a kiss on her inside thigh, released her, and rose from the bed. She blinked and looked up at him. “What are you doing?” He leaned down and kissed her on the lips. “Close your eyes and lay back,” he whispered. “What are you up to?” Hesitantly, she returned to a prone position back against the pillows, feeling empty and lonely without him. “A surprise. Hopefully, a pleasant one. Go on. Close your eyes. Keep them closed until I tell you to open them.” She lowered her lids, leaned back, and waited impatiently for his return. So far, most of his surprises had been distinctly pleasant—and arousing. She heard his bare feet thud on the carpeted steps as he returned to the loft. She next heard the sound of something being set on the nightstand. A plate? Then all thoughts receded as his hot mouth again fastened on her pussy and the heat built inside her. He pulled away, shifted, and she felt the satiny head of his cock, thick and hot at the entrance, pushing and separating as he slid inside. Her body expanded easily, allowing him entrance, her juices lubricating him, and inch by slow inch he filled her, then he pulled out completely. She gasped as something smooth, cold, and solid entered her vagina. Smaller than his cock, yet filling her with a completely different sensation, like a dildo, yet not. Ice? Then it was gone and his hot shaft pierced her again. Before she had time to assimilate the changes, the cold hard mass penetrated, was gone, and his hot cock was there again, filling her. Quick penetration by the icy steel, followed by the slow thrusting of his burning rod. The different sensations, first hot, then cold, over and over, drove her higher and higher, keeping her body aware, her mind focused on nothing but 50

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the quickly changing sensations. Her orgasm spilled powerfully over and around her, more intense than before, pulsing through her, and she screamed with the forcefulness of her release. He entered her with one thrust, settling into a rhythm of long, deep strokes. She couldn’t catch her breath, or regain a sense of composure, all she could do was feel the heat of his shaft driving deep. It was like every nerve inside her pussy was enhanced, more sensitive, each movement magnified. Finally, he folded her legs up so they rested against her breasts, and he pushed deep. She felt him to the very heart of her body as his climax rode through him. Pulse after powerful pulse. He lowered her legs, yet did not pull free. His breaths were hard gasps for air. She shuddered in the aftermath of the most intense vibrations she’d ever experienced. “Open your mouth,” he instructed her. She felt the solid mass of hard, wet ice at her lips, opened her mouth wider and tasted her own essence mixed with the ice. She swirled her tongue around the tip, and found he had indeed apparently fashioned the exact replica of a cock. Her tongue lingered over the edges and she could feel the fine raised ridges of a pulsing live organ. He pulled the icy phallus from her mouth and she heard it land in the dish or bowl on the table as his hot mouth captured her lips and his tongue invaded her moist mouth. The things he made her feel. Again, the sensations of hot and cold assailed her, twining and mingling inside her. She felt her juices thickly coating her thighs, wanted him again. And again. And again. She wrapped her arms around him, wanting to never let go as his mouth ravaged her lips. Finally, he lifted his mouth from her lips. “You can open your eyes now.” She fluttered her lids open and looked up at him. “Did you like your surprise?” 51

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“It was amazing. I’ve never felt anything like it.” His lips curved in a smile beneath the dark whiskers. “Good. I wanted to give you something special to remember me by.” Her smile faltered. She felt the gathering of tears ready to fall and she didn’t want to release them. She blinked rapidly to stop it from happening. “I’ll remember,” she whispered and turned her head away so he couldn’t see her pain. It hurt too badly to think of leaving. He rolled over on his back, taking her with him, stroking her hair, away from her face. “I know you don’t want to talk about this.” Natalie smoothed a hand across his chest. “Then why bring it up?” She teased at a hard, small brown nipple. He had such a wonderful body. She fit him. He was made for her. Couldn’t he see that? “You have to go back to New York in another week.” “Aren’t you going back as well?” He had a business. Wasn’t he needed there? “I spoke with my brother today.” She waited expectantly for him to continue. “And?” she finally said. “We’re working out a deal for him to buy my half of the ice carving business. He and I have different ideas for its future and it’s time we looked at the partnership realistically. He’s much better on the business end of things anyway.” Her heart shuddered in her chest. “What are you planning to do? I thought you loved sculpting.” “I’ll be leaving for China. I’m going to take some time to think about what direction I want to move in. It feels like I’ve reached a crossroads, and I don’t know which way I want to go.” It felt like the Sword of Damocles was hanging over her head ready to fall and slice her heart open at any moment. “I can understand that,” she said carefully. “Is this goodbye?” she whispered, trying hard not to let the shattering she felt inside tinge her voice. His arms tightened around her. “Not yet. Not until you have to 52

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return to New York.” There was a fierce determination in his voice. “Unless you want it otherwise?” She heard his deep sigh. “No. I don’t want it to be over yet.” She didn’t want it to be over at all, but knew it was inevitable. “I can’t ask you to wait for me to sort myself out. The attack started it, I guess. Made me think—reevaluate my life. It was my wake-up call.” He clasped her hand and held it to his chest. “My heart was pure ice, just like the blocks I carve from. Nothing touched it. I couldn’t feel. Until you came into my life. But there’s more I need to figure out.” She licked her lips. “What if I said I’d wait?” “I won’t ask you to put your life on hold for me. You deserve better than that. I want you to know you aren’t simply another conquest.” Suddenly he rolled her onto her back and pinned her beneath him. She gazed up at him, hoping he couldn’t see more than she wanted him to see. His sapphire blue gaze was intent, searching. “I want you to know I care about you. It may not seem that way, but I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t give you what I think you deserve right now. The commitment you deserve.” “What about what I think?” He stroked the side of her face. “You are so beautiful, inside and out. A fragile, lovely gazelle. And you hold something no one else ever has. A living, breathing part of who I am. Do you realize that?” She wanted to cry. “Don’t do this, Khristos. What we have—what we could have—is it worth tossing aside?” He rolled away from her and stood up. He ran a hand through his hair, his back to her. When he turned and looked at her, she saw the anguish and confusion fighting inside him and she didn’t want to do that to him. She pulled the sheet up, wound it around her body, and got up from the bed. “All right, Khristos. Have it your way. I won’t mention it again. But I think you’re making a mistake. We have something special.” 53

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He came around to her. “It’s fleeting, Natalie. Life is all too fleeting. Let’s just enjoy what we have for the time we have left. You’re meant to be in New York—you’ve worked hard to get where you are, and I can’t ask you to give that up. I won’t ask you to make a choice.” Ask me, she wanted to cry out. Would they have had a chance together before the attack? Then, they had both resided in New York, more or less, and possibly could have allowed for each other’s careers in their lives. But China was a whole world away from her. And if she were honest with herself, and him, she probably wouldn’t have been completely happy leaving everything she’d worked for behind. She didn’t like knowing that about herself, but if she gave it all up, as she wanted to right now, would she even be the same person he loved? She wished she could answer that question. If he were even staying here, in Palmer, they might have been able to make it work. She could commute to see him then. Or he could spend some time in New York. At least they could have managed until they could find out if they had a future together. She reached up and pulled his head down. “Whatever time we have left, I want all of it. I’m greedy, Khristos, I want all of you for as long as I can have it. I want to makes memories to last me a lifetime because what I feel for you I will never have again. I want to savor every moment.” She touched his lips with hers—a kiss of reverence, almost virginal, to seal a pact, to offer acceptance of what he had decreed. Even though it would kill her, when the time came she would leave him without a memory of tears or recriminations. She wanted him to remember the fire, not the ashes of bitterness.

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CHAPTER 8

She zipped up the last of her travel bags and looked around the loft. There was nothing else. She left out only what she would need for traveling the next day. Her last day at the cabin—her last time with Khristos. Had four weeks ever gone by so quickly? When she’d come here she thought it would be more like an endless eternity of time. If only that were the case. But it wasn’t. And now it was over. Or almost. A few last hours to add to her small stock of stolen treasures. So few moments to last her a lifetime. Because she knew there would never be another to fill the void in her heart, in her soul. They hadn’t spoken again about their parting. It was too painful. They’d skirted the subject like two duelists not willing to be the first to draw blood. But the time had now come when they both had to face this parting. 55

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She’d gone over it again and again in her mind, yet could find no solution. She knew he’d made reservations to leave the country in two weeks. He would be in New York just before that to sign the final papers transferring his half of the company to his brother before he left. But he’d made no mention of seeing her when he came in. That was one loose end he would have already tied up. It was probably better that way. As it was, this parting would be difficult enough without the thought of going through it a second time. She would be in rehearsals for the ice show she’d be touring with, involved in final costume fittings, publicity. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing—it would keep her mind occupied. She would get though this without breaking down, she promised herself. She didn’t want him to stay because he felt guilty about hurting her. She wanted him to stay because he loved her. Because he couldn’t imagine life without her. Boy, was she dreaming. This was the great Khristos DuMichael. He was not a man to commit to anything other than his art. She knew that would always come first with him. Hell, she had her own priorities with her skating. How could she expect him to put her first, when she wasn’t even sure she could reciprocate? That wasn’t fair to him. Unless he could resolve what direction he wanted to take with his life, he would never be able to commit to her. Without her skating, she would be only a part of the person he seemed to desire. It was too deeply ingrained inside her to smother that part of who she was—the professional skater. Could she really be willing to give up her livelihood, her secure lifestyle, for a man she’d only known for four weeks? They were at a stand-off. She feared leaving everything familiar behind, and he needed to leave everything behind in order to find his way. Neither of them trusted what they’d found with each other to change their paths. 56

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There was a knock at the door and she went downstairs to answer it. She hadn’t heard from Khristos all day and was curious what he was up to. He’d told her he had something to do and that he’d see her this evening. She’d been a slight bit peeved because it was her last evening and their last chance to spend time together. She’d wanted the whole day to be with him. When she opened the door, he stood on the step, like that first night when he came to dinner. She drank in the sight of him, trying to memorize every small thing about him, imprinting it inside her. Her gaze dropped to his shoulder and she cocked her head. “Hockey skates?” He smiled, although it seemed a bit forced and there were lines of strain around his eyes. “Did you think I didn’t know how to skate?” “I never thought about it. You haven’t been on the ice the whole time I’ve been here. Now you want to skate?” “Just get your skates and come with me. No questions. Do you trust me?” “Well, of course.” She reached behind the door and picked up her skates and slung them over her shoulder. He wanted to skate. That wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind. Why now? She followed him across the well-lit parking lot of the lodge. He flipped on a flashlight to light their way over the uneven hard-packed icy surface and they followed the path on the other side. He placed a steadying arm around her waist and held her close to his body, providing her with some of his own heat as they walked along the path leading to the pond. As they reached it, her eyes widened as she took in the sight. Tears sprang to her eyes. He’d done this. For her. How long had it taken him? Slowly, she walked over to the edge of the pond and bent down. The pond was ringed with flickering lanterns—not just any lanterns, 57

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but all made of ice and containing candles. Beautifully carved. On one of the logs near the pond was a portable CD player, a bottle of wine half buried in the snow, and two goblets. He lifted her from the ground and turned her to face him. “Do you like it?” She was so overwhelmed by what he’d done she wasn’t sure she could speak. She swallowed. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “I-I can’t believe you did all this.” He turned her and guided her over to the log where the bottle of wine chilled. He picked it and the glasses up and poured it out. He handed her one of them, and set the bottle back in the snow. He held up his glass. “To our memories.” “Memories,” she murmured and held up her own glass. “You don’t need the illumination of the lanterns, you know. You, alone light up the night.” He leaned down and kissed her. Then he took her glass and led her over to another log, where they removed their boots and put on skates. He walked over and turned on the CD player. The music echoed out over the ice. Then he turned around and met her at the lip of the pond. He cupped her face. “I wanted this night to be special.” “You’ve given me so much already. How can you think I’d even forget a second of this past month?” He stepped onto the ice and put an arm around her. They skated several laps in silence. Gently, he pulled her back to him and it felt as though they floated over the ice. The night surrounded them, the sparkling pristine white snow, the clear, inky night sky above them, stars glittering, and the music of Kenny G to echo and soothe. “Where did you learn to skate?” She was surprised at how well he maneuvered on the ice. “Here. On this pond. My family is from this area. They actually own the lodge,” he admitted. “They don’t live here now; there’s a 58

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manager who takes care of everything and runs the place. The land the barn is situated on actually is a part of the lodge property, but I took it over some years ago. They were going to tear it down, but I convinced them to let me use it. Luckily, they agreed.” So much made sense now. Particularly, how he always seemed to be so at home here, and everyone who worked in the lodge greeted him by name. She’d assumed it was simply because he lived nearby and spent a lot of time in the area. “Your family is well off, I take it.” She hadn’t thought about it before, and she had a feeling that might be understating their circumstances. It simply never occurred to her. She guessed she’d had other things on her mind. “They’re comfortable,” he admitted. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” “I didn’t think it was important. Is it?” “No. It wouldn’t have changed anything. It would never matter to me whether you were rich or poor.” She stopped skating and turned to look at him. “You didn’t think it would, did you?” “No, I didn’t. I didn’t mention it, merely because I didn’t think it mattered.” They started skating again. “The lanterns are beautiful. I can’t believe you took the time to make them.” “I learned their history when I was in China. The early ice carvers used to make them. They were fishermen and they fished at night and needed a way to light up the area where they were fishing. They would walk out on the ice and cut holes to fish in.” “Like the ice fishing here.” “Yes, a lot like that. They’d freeze buckets of water overnight and then hollowing out the center of the ice blocks, and they’d put candles inside. Then they’d use them as lanterns in winter. “You didn’t use buckets to form these, did you?” They were square 59

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blocks, like large, oversized ice cubes, with etchings on the sides. Similar to the intricate carvings they did now on pumpkins at Halloween. “No. These were made from molds I had specially designed.” “I still can’t believe you did this. These aren’t strictly functional, they’re so lovely.” His hands rested on her hips and she felt their heat through the material. The music floated around them. “I still want you to model for me,” he said as he shifted his hands to the waistband of her pants and slipped beneath her clothing. “One day. The problem is that just thinking about you I’d melt the ice before I could shape it. I’ll have to come up with another medium.” His hand slid over her abdomen and covered her mound. She felt the slow trickle of her juices begin to gather. “What would you use?” she asked breathlessly as she allowed him to guide her over the ice. She tried to maintain her concentration, yet he held her firmly, so she knew she wouldn’t fall. Two of his fingers slipped inside her and he brought them to a halt. “Something eternal, maybe marble.” He slid deeper inside her channel. “Look at the stars,” he whispered against her neck. She looked up at the sky, but the only thing she could concentrate on were his fingers inside her. “When I look at the sky it always makes me feel so small.” His thumb circled her clit, slowly. By rights she knew the night air was frigid, but it didn’t penetrate through her clothing. He rocked her against his fingers, and she felt the heat of desire consume her, then she fell over the edge and he held her tightly against him as she shuddered to completion, her body melting completely like slowly heated warm butter. He bent his head to kiss her neck. “Letting you go is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.” Slowly, he removed his fingers from 60

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inside her. He whispered kisses along her jaw. “I can’t go back to New York to live. I’ve thought about it. I want you more than I thought possible, but I can’t go back there. Not even for you.” She looked up into the night sky, wanting to reach up and grab onto a star and hold on tight. “That first night we met. Do you know what I thought when I turned around and looked at you?” “What?” He unzipped her jacket and cupped her breasts through the fabric of her sweater, kneading them lightly, circling the nipples with the pads of his thumbs. “I thought you resembled the pictures of those Greek gods.” She nodded toward the sky. “From up there, beyond the stars. Beyond a mortal’s touch. You’re right. A city would imprison you. This. Here. This is your realm. It’s wild, like you. And unbelievably beautiful. It can’t be tamed and neither should you.” She looked around them at the stillness the night brought in winter, the stark white and dense blackness, the sparkling crystal icicles dripping from the branches, the crisp, sharp air. “The realm of the ice god,” she whispered. The beauty of this moment engulfed her. “What I wouldn’t give to be able to stay here forever. Just like this. Just the two of us.” He turned her toward him and lowered his head to capture her lips. They were hard and cool, but his tongue was hot and demanding, searing her. His body heat was like the blast of a furnace, a warm blanket surrounding her, keep out the cold knowledge of tomorrow. He hugged her close. “Stay with me. Come with me to China.” She heard the low words, but knew it wasn’t possible. They both had a road to travel and it wasn’t in the same direction, no matter how much they both wanted it to be. Tomorrow they would have to say goodbye.

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CHAPTER 9

Natalie walked into Craig’s office two days later. “Natalie! It’s great to see you. How was Tenneyson’s?” She flopped down in the chair across from him. A sense of déjà vu covered her. This was exactly how she’d seen Craig four weeks before. He stood when she entered the office and now he sat down, his eyes attempting to burn a hole through her. “Well? How was it?” She looked down at her dark brown suede skirt and brushed a wrinkle from it. Slowly, she met his look. “Did you know he’d be there? Did you arrange it, Craig?” He leaned back in his chair. “It was a fluke when I discovered his family owned the lodge. I made a few discreet calls and found out he was staying up there.” “Did you talk to him?” “Nope. Don’t know the man. But I figured if I could get you up there, a little karma might take over. It did, didn’t it? But you still look 62

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like hell. Possibly worse than you did before you left. So tell me what happened?” “You play dangerous games, you know.” He nodded. “Sometimes. Calculated risks are part of the business. I thought if you had a chance to finally get him out of your system, you’d be able to focus when you got back.” Get him out of her system? Fat chance with that. She missed him so badly there wasn’t a moment when she didn’t ache to be with him. Both nights she’d woken up and reached for the phone and then slammed it down after punching in the first three numbers. He’d left an envelope on the coffee table when he’d left her in the early hours of the morning. She’d wanted him to stay with her until the last possible moment, but he wouldn’t do it. Couldn’t, he said. She was ready to get up to go with him to the door, but he wouldn’t allow that either. This is how I want to remember you, he’d said. He’d pulled the sheet back and looked at her, his gaze burning through her. Then he’d gently pulled the sheet back over her and leaned down and gave her one gentle kiss. Close your eyes, he’d whispered against her forehead. After she’d done as he asked, she heard him walk away and down the stairs. He didn’t say goodbye. Eventually, she’d heard the door open and close and she jumped from the bed and raced down the stairs. Hurrying to the window, she wanted one last glimpse. She didn’t want it to end this way. As she was about to pull the curtain back and gaze out into the murky light of the pre-dawn hour, she stopped. A shiver raced through her. And in that moment she understood why he hadn’t wanted her to accompany him to the door and why he’d made her close her eyes. She’d collapsed on the floor lowering her head to her hands. Never had she wanted something more than to race after him and tell him she’d go anywhere with him. Whatever he wanted, she’d do it. 63

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But a part of her stopped her from doing it. It was then she’d noticed the envelope on the coffee table. It had contained his phone numbers and his address in New York. She’d come so close to using it. “Hel-lo. Are you with me, Natalie? Where did you go?” She blinked and turned her gaze to Craig. “I’m here. Yes, I ran into him.” “Looks to me like it was more than that.” “It didn’t work out, and that’s all you need to know. Let’s talk business.” “Now wait a minute, you can’t let it drop without giving me the details.” “Yes, I can. He’s leaving for China in a few days. Would you rather I’d have gone along? Just forget about this engagement? And all the others you have lined up for me?” “China! What the hell is he going to China for?” “I think that’s his business. Anyway, we spent some time together, and now it’s over. Does that satisfy your curiosity?” “Not in the least. You’re satisfied with that?” Natalie sighed. “Craig, can we just drop it? This conversation is going nowhere.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Really, can we change the subject, please?” “Okay, Natalie. But I’m not happy. Whatever didn’t happen is obviously eating at you. There are circles under your eyes and it looks like you’ve lost some weight. You’ve got to get yourself together.” “I know. I will. I only just got back. When do I report for fittings and when do rehearsals start? The sooner I get back into the routine, the better it will be. Waiting around with nothing but time on my hands is only making it worse.” He turned around, opened a file drawer, and pulled out a file. He lifted a sheet of paper and handed it to her across the desk. “That’s your schedule until you leave in a few weeks. It should keep you occupied 64

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from what I see.” She took the paper from him and sat back down and glanced through it. “This looks fine. I don’t see any problems.” He pinned her with his business no-nonsense look. “You sure about this?” “I’m sure, Craig. It will all be fine.” “I’m sorry, Natalie. I never should have sent you up there.” “You shouldn’t have sent me up there without warning me.” He nodded. “I thought I was helping.” “You were trying to play cupid.” She couldn’t help but smile. He looked like a puppy who’d just been reprimanded for ripping up the newspaper. “And I thought I was doing a good job of it.” He held up both hands. “I promise, I won’t do it again.” “It’s all right.” She folded the paper, put it in her purse, and stood. “I’ve got to be going. This schedule won’t leave me much time for personal business once I start, so I want to take care of a few things.” She headed to the door. “Is there anything I can do, Natalie?” She heard the concern in his voice. With her hand on the doorknob she hesitated, but didn’t turn around. “No. But I want you to know, I wouldn’t have missed a second of the last four weeks, even knowing we couldn’t have a future together. So don’t kick yourself over it.” She opened the door and walked out without allowing him to say anything else. A week and a half later Natalie walked into her apartment and collapsed on the couch, exhausted from another day of rehearsals. Two more days and they’d be leaving. She dragged herself into the bedroom and shucked off her clothes. Padding into the bathroom, she flipped on the faucet. Nothing like a nice hot shower to soothe away these sore muscles. 65

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Feeling much refreshed by the shower, she sat at her dressing table and poured some fragrant lotion into the palm of her hand. She lifted her leg and rested it on the edge of the low-hung dresser and kneaded lotion into the skin. Looking up, she met her own gaze in the mirror. She saw the knowledge she was trying to repress. Today was the day Khristos had gotten on a plane and left for China. It had been in the back of her mind all day, and it’s why she’d pushed herself so hard. She’d wanted to be so tired when she got home she could collapse on the bed and sleep would numb her into unconsciousness. She hadn’t been fast enough because the memory was there, hidden in the depths of her bleak gaze. Raising her other leg, she applied the lotion in long strokes. A memory surfaced—one taboo moment that she knew was going to gather speed like a snowball pushed down a mountainside, gathering more memories at the speed of light as it went. At the cabin, Khristos had applied the lotion all over her body. His hands were warm as he kneaded out her tired muscles. She saw him in her memories—tanned skin against a pristine white towel slung low about his waist. Then he’d worked his fingers inside her. As the memory played out, she felt herself getting wetter and wetter. She cupped her mound with her hand, felt the dampness between her thighs. She ached for him to be here with her, to taste his heat. She slipped her two fingers inside her vagina. Closing her eyes, she widened her legs and with her other hand she teased her clitoris, envisioning it was his hands teasing her, priming her for him. Her fingers slid through her creamy desire. In her vision, she reached up and removed the towel and it dropped to the floor. His cock sprang free, more than ready to pleasure her. But first, she’d wanted to taste him. 66

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Her fingers slid in and out of her pussy as she remembered the hot, male taste as she slid her lips over his cock; the tangy essence of his anticipation slid over her tongue as she engulfed him. Her body pulsed at the memory; she rocked against her fingers, whimpering with need. Pain swirled through her, mixed with desire, with emptiness. With a shudder her climax washed over her, and she allowed it to have its way. Withdrawing her fingers, she bowed her head and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to quash the ache of loneliness. She rocked back and forth as tears trickled from beneath her lids. Her release meant nothing without him here. It simply brought her wave after wave of pain. In that moment she knew she’d been wrong. Her profession, her life, was nothing without sharing it with the man she loved. And at last she admitted the truth of that statement. She loved him more than she ever thought it was possible to love another human being. And now everything was tinged with his loss. It was only now, as it was too late, she realized what she had sacrificed. She thought she’d be giving up her independence and her profession as an ice skater—things she’d fought to obtain all her life. What was independence but an opportunity to make choices for herself. And she chose to love Khristos. Was she that afraid of an unknown future? What would it have hurt to find out whether they were compatible in a long-term relationship? Now, when it was too late, she couldn’t even identify what her real fear was. Too late. He was gone and she was now going to have to get on with her life. She had valued independence above love. Weighed them and assumed love would come up as of less value. But she knew it wasn’t. It was love that carried the higher value, and she’d thrown her chance away, being left with independence and a pair of inanimate skates. 67

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She wanted to go back, to have another chance to make the right choice. Maybe a choice not right for anyone else, but it was for her. Skating had been her life for so long, she’d lost sight of everything around her. She'd been so afraid of being hurt. Could anything hurt more than this? Like an old woman, she rose from the chair and put on her bathrobe. She walked over to the window to look out over the city. Millions of people, lights, cars, sound. Horns blaring, the smell of fumes and factories. Skyscrapers filled with people. And not a one completed her the way Khristos did. Out of all those millions of people, they had come together that night four months ago. They were supposed to find each other, and they had. Not once, but twice. And walked away both times. What was it Craig had said? Karma. Well, they’d thumbed their noses at karma and this is what she was left with. A loneliness so deep neither a city full of millions of people would ever be able to fill the abyss inside her, nor would the heat of a thousand furnaces warm her. She would complete the contract for this ice show and then it would be her turn to rethink her life. Khristos hadn’t been the only one at a crossroads; she had been there also and didn’t recognize it. There was another saying about the road less traveled. Well, she’d taken the safe one, the one she’d traveled often. She hadn’t recognized the choice, and now it was gone. But there would be other choices. She didn’t expect to ever again find the love she’d thrown away, but there were other things she could fill her life with. She had loved the city, but the memory of the night he held her in his arms beneath the stars was the most vibrant one in her mind. That moment she’d felt the most complete and happiest she’d ever been in her life. And she wanted that again. She turned away from the window. A new plan began to form in her mind. The panic that had set in at the knowledge of what was gone 68

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began to recede. Khristos, be happy, my love. I hope you find what you’re looking for.

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CHAPTER 10

This was the last performance. It felt like the longest three months of her life. Natalie joined the others on the ice for the grand finale and gazed out at the sea of eager, grinning faces. The tour had been a success. The organizers had asked her to join them against next year, but she’d declined. Her life was going in a different direction. Several of the male skaters had approached her, but she couldn’t bring herself to settle for second best. None could measure up to her memories of Khristos. She enjoyed performing before an audience and she’d spoken with Craig about doing local shows. He’d been a little perturbed when she’d said she didn’t want to travel any longer. But she had an idea and she wanted to follow it up. She’d already approached Tenneyson’s and they’d actually been rather open to her ideas. The skaters took their last bow and then she was off the ice and headed to her dressing room. There was going to be a big last bash 70

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before they all headed their separate ways. She had to get back to New York to tie up some loose ends. She removed the makeup and changed out of her blue sequined costume into a long beige skirt and a silky shirt. She twisted her hair and secured it with a barrette at the back of her head. When she reached the sky top restaurant of the hotel they were lodged in, everyone appeared to be in a festive mood. As she walked inside, a pall settled inside her. The scene was too familiar. The ache too poignant. She grabbed a glass of wine from the tray of a passing waiter and walked over to a section of unoccupied window to gaze out at the panoramic view of the city below. What she ended up seeing in the window was a reflection of the food table behind her. Her gaze was riveted on the sculpture that was the centerpiece. It looked to be made of a pure, clear glass. Hesitantly, she turned around, unable to look away from the figure. She took unwilling steps toward the table, a fist tightened around her chest. When she got to the table, she studied the ice sculpture. It was a simple swan, perfect in every way, but she knew it wasn’t something Khristos had created. Of course not, he was in China, anyway. It was too precise, and it didn’t live and breath the way one of his creations did. She felt the tears threaten to fall. That was not going to happen. She’d managed to survive over the last three months, pushing his memory to the back of her mind. For the most part it had worked. But there were nights… Those were the nights she went out dancing with a group of the other performers and refused to think about anything other than dancing. “Do you like the sculpture?” Natalie stopped breathing. “Y-yes,” she managed to rasp out. “B71

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but, I believe I’ve seen better.” She blinked several times, trying to contain the tears that threatened. She felt his hands settle on her shoulders. “Have you?” His breath sifted along her neck. Her hands trembled as he reached around and took the wineglass from her. She watched as his arm reached past her to set it on the corner of the table. She remembered well the touch of that hand, those long fingers teasing. Closing her eyes, she tried to gain some control of her ragged emotions. She was having little success. If she turned around to look at him, would he disappear? Was her need for him so great, she produced this figment of her imagination? The thought that he would disappear if she faced him terrified her. His fingers tightened on her shoulders. “Won’t you turn around?” She bit her lip. “I’m afraid you’ll disappear.” “Never again, gazelle. I’ll never leave you again.” She whirled around to confront him. Oh, God. She reached up to touch his face. He was here, it wasn’t all her imagination. He must have seen something in her expression because he turned her and guided her out of the room and into a quiet hallway. She bit back a sob. “I thought you were in China.” He leaned down and pulled her collar aside to nibble at her neck, at the pulse beating so fast, and she moaned with pleasure. He raised his head. “I was. I came back.” “How did you find me?” “I tracked down your manager. Craig.” She laughed. “He swore to me he’d never meddle in my love life again. I’m going to need to send him a very expensive bottle of champagne.” “It wasn’t what I thought it would be. It didn’t give me the peace I was looking for. The only place I had that was with you. As soon as I 72

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stepped on the plane, I knew it was a mistake. I wanted to tell them to turn the plane around and take me back.” She laughed again. “That evening that you left? That’s when I realized I should have gone with you. None of this—nothing was as important as being with you. It ripped my heart out when you left.” He lifted her and pressed her close to him. She wound her arms around his neck. “I thought it was our last chance, that we’d thrown away something so precious.” She buried her face against his neck inhaling his masculine scent. “Third time’s the charm, my love. Will you mind living in Palmer?” She raised her head to look at him. “Are you serious?” “Yes. I’m going to open an ice carving school there. I’ll still do some specialized work for my brother and individual contracts.” “Have you spoken with the manager at Tenneyson’s?” “No. Why?” “I’m not taking any more road engagements. I’ve applied for a teaching position at Tenneyson’s. I’ll be teaching ice skating and I’ve persuaded Craig to only consider local appearances.” “Why did you do that?” She cupped his face. “My happiest moments were in Palmer. With you. If I couldn’t have you, I wanted to be in the one place where I found true happiness and peace.” “I wouldn’t have wanted you to tuck yourself away from life. I never meant that for you.” “I know that. That wasn’t what it was about. People have given so much to me in my performances, I wanted to give something back to them. I also talked the manager into hosting an ice exhibition next winter.” He leaned down and captured her lips. “I love you, Natalie. I wasn’t sure I’d get a chance to say that.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the elevators. “Come 73

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with me, iceman, we have a lot of catching up to do. I don’t suppose you brought any of those amazing little cocksicles with you, did you?” She saw the flash of his white teeth. “Not this time, gazelle. But I promise to create a whole gross of them if you’d like. Or maybe I’ll design something equally as inspiring.” The elevator doors slid open and she pulled him inside. She pressed the button for her floor, then backed him up against the wall, dragging his mouth down to hers. “Oh, you inspire all right. More than you’ll ever know.”

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ADRIANNA DANE Theresa Gallup uses the pen names of Tess Maynard and Adrianna Dane. Theresa has been writing since the age of 10. A legal secretary for 30 years, she is currently working on another erotic romance, as well as a full-length romantic mystery/suspense. She has been married for 30 years and has three grown children (a daughter and twin sons), and is a new grandmother. Writing as Tess Maynard, her first published short story appeared in the ezine, The Whispering Forest, in January of 2004. Writing as Adrianna Dane, where adding sensual heat to romance is her motto, Esmerelda’s Secret was her first foray into the erotic romance genre. Having traveled and lived from the East Coast to the West Coast, Theresa receives inspiration for her stories from a variety of sources, including music and poetry, and her tastes are eclectic. For more information about current projects, visit Theresa’s websites at www.tessmaynard.com or www.adriannadane.com. *

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