She shook her head. “Mine are not really … mine. I know that doesn’t make sense but … it’s true.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “We’re not really on a date, after all. Just testing out the food.”
“And it is good,” she said, taking a bite of her cheeseburger.
“Well, I’m glad it was worth the trek.”
They ate in silence. Well, relative silence. Sometimes Amelia hummed while she chewed.
“Ready to head back down the mountain?”
“Uh, sure, I guess so.”
He left the voucher that had been included with the brochure on the table and they walked back to the tram. “Ready?”
“Yep.”
He walked into the yellow car and held his hand out. She took it and he lifted her inside. Her hands were so soft. Warm.
The attendant slid the door shut, and the car began to move along the cable, out of the station and back over the trees, over the valley that ran between the mountains.
“Wow,” she said. “This is incredible. Also, though, when you look straight down it makes you slightly dizzy.”
“Then don’t look down,” he said.
“It’s kind of a rush,” she said, leaning toward the window, her forehead pressed against the glass. “Smoother than an airplane. And it feels more real. It feels a lot more like flying in some ways.”
“You were the kind of girl who would dream of flying, I think,” he said. He wasn’t sure why he’d said it. He only knew it was true.
She looked at him and smiled, a dimple in her left cheek dipping inward. “I did. I made myself cardboard wings and used glue and gold glitter to make them sparkle. I was fifteen. It wasn’t so socially acceptable.”
“You seem like you don’t care much for convention, anyway.”
“You know, I don’t in some ways. I mean, society can take a flying leap. But in other ways … I know what it’s like to have family expectations of you. I mean … sure it wasn’t running a bank or anything but … I’m really close to my parents and I know they see me a certain way. That they see my future a certain way. And if they were tyrants or criminals, then maybe I could walk away, but they aren’t. I love them. And I’m just always afraid of disappointing them.”
“How could you possibly disappoint them?”
She lifted a shoulder. “There are ways, I’m sure. It’s just … in my family there are a lot of emotions.”
“You have sisters,” he said.
“Yes, I do. And you know that because a Chevalier never forgets.”
“True enough.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence, which was beyond unusual for Amelia, her face pale, her cheeks and lips a stark pink in contrast, her gaze focused on the view. She looked oddly serious. And sad. It made his stomach twist.
The car touched down at the other station, and he helped Amelia out. “Ready for the massage?”
“What did I tell you about the massage?” she asked.
“Do you really want to skip this? We’re testing out the facility.”
The dimple deepened, blue eyes glittering. “Fine. I guess I’ll suffer the indignity for a little deep tissue relief.”
He reached out to take her hand, and she pulled away. “What?” he asked.
“I—I shouldn’t.”
“Clint?” he asked.
“Kind of.”
“Just hands,” he said, and he didn’t know why he felt compelled to convince her of that. Didn’t know why he felt the need to talk her into letting him touch her.
“Just hands,” she said, extending hers.
He wove his fingers through hers, the shock of her skin on his not lessening since the last time he’d touched her. This whole thing with her was much more problematic than he’d anticipated.
They walked out of the tram terminal and into the lodge again, heading up the stairs that led to the spa.
It was all exactly what he wanted to see as a potential buyer. Very little needed to be done to the property to make it perfect. The same rustic elegance that was evidenced in the rest of the place carried through, craftsman-style details, beautiful inlaid wood and exposed beams.
And at the center was a giant Christmas tree, white lights glittering against the deep green.
With the right marketing, this resort could be much bigger than it was. He didn’t see why it wasn’t yet on the radar of celebrities looking for a place to stay and ski. In his mind it was well suited to that. All it needed was a bit of rebranding.
A woman greeted them at the front and ushered them into a small room that had a wall entirely made of glass, which overlooked the broad expanse of wilderness at the back of the resort. There was utter privacy, with a sense of openness.
Yes, this could be a very popular destination.
Amelia looked pointedly at the two white robes, hanging on the little room divider.
“I take it that’s what we’re supposed to wear?” she asked.
“I think so. You can get behind the shade if you like.”
He felt as if they were potentially playing with fire. In fact, he knew he was. He knew that this had gone somewhere beyond simply playing the part of happy couple, and assessing the value of the resort. Frankly, he could have donned a suit, walked in here and told Don Fleischer he was prepared to offer and that he wanted to inspect the facilities, and yet he hadn’t.
And he wasn’t going to. Not when … not when this was happening. Not when, for the first time in his memory he felt a rush of excitement and the thought of what might happen.
Sex was a certainty for him—dry spell aside—when he went out, if he wanted sex, he got it. Women were always willing. The combination of money, power and looks was his ticket into many bedrooms. And there was no thrill. There was no tightening in his stomach, no rush of anticipation. No sense of the unique or unknown.
Sex was a known quantity. How could anything about it be suspenseful? It was simply arousing, and then, satisfying.
This wasn’t even sex. This was just the anticipation of being near her while she was dressed in nothing more than a robe. This was just the desire to see a bit more skin than she’d shown while in her dress.
The desire to be in this intimate setting with her.
It wasn’t about release. It wasn’t about getting naked and getting
