expression stated louder than words ever could that she didn’t believe him. “Married as in the tiered cake, white dress and ‘I do’?”
“Yup.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
She closed her eyes, then opening them, shook her head as she pinned him with her crystalline gaze. “Have you lost your mind, Shane? You can’t possibly be serious.”
“Angel, marriage is one subject I never joke about,” he said, meaning it.
“We can’t get married, Shane,” she insisted. “Beyond the basics, we really don’t know that much about each other.”
“Sure we do.” He stood up and, lifting her into his arms, sat down in the chair to settle her on his lap. “I know you like when I do this.” Kissing the side of her neck, he was rewarded with her soft sigh. “And you really like this,” he added, slipping his hand beneath the tail of her aqua T-shirt. He used his fingertip to trace the satiny skin covering her ribs. As he slowly lowered his head, he moved his hand. “But you love this.”
His mouth covered hers at the same time his hand cupped her breast and to his immense satisfaction, Lissa didn’t so much as put up a token protest. Encouraged by her response, Shane deepened the kiss and once again marveled at her sweetness and the feeling of completion he always experienced when he held her.
He had kissed a lot of women in his time, but not one of them made him feel the way Melissa Jarrod did. Her slender body fit perfectly against his and her passion never failed to excite him in ways he could have never imagined.
His lower body tightened predictably and he decided he had better break the kiss before things got out of hand. At the moment, Lissa needed his comfort far more than she did his lust.
Drawing in some much-needed air, he smiled. “I told you I knew a lot about you.”
She shook her head as if to clear it. “I wasn’t talking about pleasing each other sexually and you know it.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that a huge part of marriage?” he asked, unable to keep from grinning.
“Maybe for a man, but a woman needs more from a relationship than just good sex,” she insisted. “I need more.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Would you care to enlighten me?”
Leaning back, she stared at him for a moment as if she thought he might be a little on the simple side. “Do you realize we’ve never spent more than a few hours together at any one time? I may know you intimately in bed, but I don’t know anything about you otherwise. I don’t know what you like to read, what kind of movies you prefer or even what your favorite color is.”
He frowned. “I don’t see how any of that would make or break a marriage.”
She pulled from his arms and stood up. “Don’t you see? Those are the kinds of things you know about the person you are committing to spend the rest of your life with.” Sighing heavily, she turned to face him. “I don’t even know what side of the bed you sleep on or if you snore.”
“So you’re telling me that knowing whether I snore or not is more important than a gratifying love life?” he asked, laughing.
If looks could kill, the one she sent his way would have him laid out in two shakes of a squirrel’s tail. “Will you be serious, Shane? I’m trying to explain what constitutes a committed relationship.”
Oh, he knew exactly what she was driving at. Lissa thought she needed to know what made him tick. But she was wanting more from him than he was comfortable giving. He had never been in the habit of sharing more than the surface details about himself with anyone and he wasn’t inclined to do so now.
Unfortunately, if he wanted her to go along with his plan, he was going to have to give her something she considered relevant. “Nonfiction, action-adventure, red and left.”
She looked confused.
“I mainly read nonfiction and my favorite movies are action-adventure. I like the color red and I prefer the middle of the bed. But if I had to choose a side, it would be the left.” He grinned. “As for the snoring, you can let me know about that tomorrow morning.”
“Those things are nice to know,” she said, looking a little more satisfied with his answers. “But that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”
Before she could press him further and delve into areas he would rather not go into, he decided to turn the tables and ask a few questions of his own. “What about you? What is there about Lissa Jarrod that you think I need to know?”
He gave himself a mental pat on the back at her pleased expression. “Let’s see. I like pizza, I hate Brussels sprouts—”
“Who doesn’t?” he said, making a face.
She laughed. “And I adore romantic movies.”
“What about horses?” he asked, wondering if they had that in common. “Do you like to ride?”
“I haven’t ridden in several years, but I used to enjoy going on some of the trail rides offered at Jarrod Ridge.” Smiling, she added, “I even had a favorite horse named Smoky Joe that I always rode.”
Shane stood up and took her into his arms. “I don’t remember you going on any of the rides I guided.”
Loosely wrapping her arms around his waist, she gazed up at him. “That was because I was too young. When you were eighteen and leading those trail rides, I was only eleven.”
“Now hold on just a minute,” he said, frowning. “Didn’t you tell me one time that you worked at the resort when I did?”
“Yes.” He felt her body tense. “Of course, I wasn’t on the payroll. But I started doing simple things like delivering messages from one office to another. That was when I was eight.”
“Ah, the pre-e-mail and text-messaging days.”
She nodded. “By the time I turned ten I had graduated to showing guests how to find their way around the resort grounds. Then, at sixteen, I started working the front desk.”
Shane wasn’t opposed to a kid doing a few chores. Hell, his dad had him mucking out stalls and feeding horses from the time he was old enough to carry a feed bucket. But it sounded as if Donald Jarrod had his kids doing more than just simple chores.
“Whose idea was it for you to go to work at such an early age?” he asked, remembering that he had seen all of the Jarrod children working various jobs around the resort.
She shrugged one slender shoulder. “My father wanted all of us to know the business inside and out. I suppose he thought by starting us out young, we would learn what made Jarrod Ridge the premier resort in Aspen.”
He could tell by the tensing of her muscles and the tight tone of her voice that they were skirting a touchy subject. “Do you think it would be all right for you to go riding tomorrow?” he asked, deciding to lighten the conversation. It was obvious she didn’t care
