Her Kind Of Hero. Carol Steward

Чтение книги онлайн.

       Chapter Three

      Calli zipped the ski parka, adjusted her earmuffs and pulled on the bulky gloves. She checked her gear then felt her pocket to be sure she had remembered lip ointment, tissues and sunglasses.

      Everything accounted for, she skied toward the footprints marking the loading zone for the tramway that would carry her away from the pressures of the city. Since the accident two weeks ago, she’d done little besides work the checkout lanes at the grocery store, then go home and struggle with the temptation to patrol again. With any luck at all, she’d be too tired tonight to care if the whole town crumbled at her doorstep.

      She wanted this ski trip to revitalize her senses. Wanted it to make her forget the urge to protect the weak and helpless.

      Experts said forgiveness was the key to moving on in life after a tragedy. Yet try as she may, Calli found it impossible to forgive—a hit-and-run driver, an unfaithful fiancé or an elusive murderer.

      Calli took a deep breath of the crisp clean air and closed her eyes. Okay, Father, I’ll quit patrolling. But there has to be some way I can help. Show me how. Take my life, my heart, and change it. Starting today, Lord, remind me how to relax and have fun.

      She watched tufts of clouds floating in from the west. “For I know of the plans that I have for you…plans to give you a hope and a future.” Today she would be carefree. Happy. Relaxed. Today I’m starting over.

      She noticed the broad shoulders ahead of her, and again found herself daydreaming about the cop with the resonating voice and tender touch. Though she’d never actually seen Luke Northrup, her mind had created its own image. His business card was still in her purse, with his home number scrawled on the back. She’d read it over and again, too stubborn to succumb to the temptation to actually call him. As kind as he had been, he was still a cop.

      “Excuse me, sir.”

      He didn’t respond.

      As she waited, another chair passed. She looked at it, then to the man who was now struggling with the binding on his ski.

      Calli watched as the next seat approached, then tapped the man’s shoulder. “Excuse me. Are you going up?”

      “Just a minute.” he snapped. He stepped aside and Calli eased forward, her gaze climbing the ski slope.

      Calli heard a clamor as the chair rounded the curve of the pulley. She hurried past the man to the loading zone for the lift. When the chair bumped the back of her legs, she instinctively sat down and knew immediately that something was wrong. She wasn’t on the chair. She was on somebody. “What’s going on?”

      “Hang on!” a deep voice commanded. Calli grabbed hold of the vertical bar connecting the chair to the cable, then looked down and realized three things. The chair was already twenty feet above the frozen ground. To her right, skis dangled from jean-clad legs, confirming her suspicion that she was sitting on someone. And she didn’t dare let go.

      “How—how did you get here?” she stammered. As Calli yanked the safety bar down in front of them, she felt his hand grab the back of her parka. “What are you doing?”

      “Trying to keep you from falling, ma’am.” He shoved her to one side, then kicked his long legs in a final effort to sit upright.

      The chair jolted from side to side. “Watch out! The pole.” She heard the snap as his skis hit the huge metal post. The chair jerked to a stop, bumping Calli off the seat again. She screamed.

      “Don’t worry. I have you.” He hoisted her back into the chair, then pulled her into the circle of his arms.

      Calli whispered a prayer, unable to stop clinging to the man who’d brought her to safety. He held her securely. Tenderly. Sympathetically.

      “It’s okay now. You’ll be fine, miss.” The deep timbre of his voice was somewhat disconcerting and the spicy scent of his cologne sent a shiver up her spine.

      Slightly perturbed that he did nothing to dissuade her from clinging to him, Calli concentrated on slowing her breathing before she totally collapsed into his arms, further making a fool of herself.

      “It’s okay. Take a deep breath—let it out.” She could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he imitated his instructions.

      Her breathing was ragged, and with each gasp the cold air burned her throat. How long they clung to one another, she wasn’t sure. Calli could feel his heart pounding against her own, and, with determined control, she pushed herself away from the security of the man’s embrace. Looking into his eyes, she felt as if a warm blanket had just been wrapped around her. His rough cheek brushed hers, and she fought the temptation to lean close again. Calli straightened her jacket and took another cleansing breath, the thin air only intensifying the dizziness.

      “I…I didn’t think you were going up….” she said, her words trailing off as she lost herself in his jade-green eyes. Her gaze strayed to the black stubble framing his smile, and it was suddenly a struggle to think.

      A voice bellowed from the ground below. “Everyone okay up there?”

      Her companion glanced down, then back to her. His voice held none of the irritation she’d first heard, but was strangely warm and comforting. “Are you okay?”

      She swallowed with difficulty and finally a raspy sound emerged. “Fine. But you. Your ski. And…” She raised her body off the seat again, and reached under her. “Oh, no, I bent your ski pole.”

      He yelled to the ski patrol and confirmed they were both fine. The lift started with a jerk, and both grabbed for each other.

      She watched the play of emotions on his rugged face. His eyes searched hers and they broke into laughter. His laugh was warm, deep and fully masculine.

      “You couldn’t have bent that pole if you’d jumped on it. There’s hardly enough of you to—” He abruptly stopped midsentence.

      It couldn’t be. The laughter ended and she felt her cheeks heating up, despite the cold wind on her face.

      Did he feel the same unexplainable bond as she did? It was crazy; they’d just met. Or had they? This wasn’t like her at all. Every time he spoke, it sent a ripple of awareness through her.

      “I’m very sorry, miss….” СКАЧАТЬ