Rock Solid. Jennifer Greene

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СКАЧАТЬ she’d been so damn clear that she already expected to fail. Only damnation, no one had trouble with this exercise. Ever. Before. Her.

      “I’m freezing, I’m freezing—”

      He knew. He could feel her tight, wrinkled nipples, through his drenched shirt and hers. He could feel her fanny under his hands as well, maybe even feel her goose bumps. God knew, she was clutching him tighter than glue. “I know you’re cold. But you’re going to be back at the lodge and climbing in warm, dry clothes in ten minutes, tops, I promise. And after that, you partner with me,” he said irritably. Hell, his teeth were starting to chatter now, too.

      “With you?”

      “Yeah. With me.”

      She lifted her chin so she could look in his eyes. “Um, Cash? This was my fault. Not yours. I told you I wouldn’t do well with the program, didn’t I? I don’t do well with anything physical. It’s just reality—”

      Maybe it was her reality, but it wasn’t his. Any other client who’d taken a tumble, he’d give them the morning off, let them soak up some sunshine with their feet up. But a principle was on the line here.

      Cash wasn’t sure what the principle was, but there had to be one. He hadn’t built Silver Mountain into a first-class executive retreat by letting clients fail. That was part of it. His whole program was based on making sure every dad-blamed exhausted executive got something good out of it, and he sure wasn’t breaking that record for her. And somehow she’d done something to him so that he couldn’t get his mind off her. That had gotten tangled up in the principle, too.

      Bottom line was, an hour later, Keegan had been sent out to handle the program for the others, and Cash was fresh-showered, dry-clothed and pacing the front lobby, waiting for her. Spare minutes after that, Lexie bounced down the stairs, wearing a new pastel pair of jeans and another cute little pair of tennies and what looked like a raw-silk shirt to him—even if the pattern was a country plaid. Her hair was dry already—how long could it take to dry a couple of inches of bouncy curl? And she was smiling up at him before he’d even had a chance to erase his scowl.

      “Okay. I’m warmed up and ready for the next torture,” she said lightly.

      “Good.” He didn’t fill her in on the next plan until they’d hiked a good distance up the mountain. She spotted the outside climbing gym, but obviously had no idea what it was.

      He unlocked the storage shed and started gearing up, first choosing the right helmet and harness for Lexie, then sorting through the obvious hexes and cams and lobster claws for the exercise…but he kept a wary eye on Lex. He knew she wasn’t going to go for this easily. Temporarily, though, the view just seemed to both bewilder and confuse her. She’d perched her hands on her hips and kept spinning around.

      “This is the strangest thing I’ve ever seen. What on earth are all those ropes and poles and boards for? It looks like a playground in the sky,” she joked.

      “That’s exactly what it is. A playground in the sky. It’s where we teach the ropes course, the basics of mountain climbing.” He motioned to various sites over their heads. “There are about thirty different exercises you can do up there. The climbing wall is just what it looks like. So is the rope ladder. But then there are other spots, where you can practice using anchors and belaying techniques—”

      “Whoa.” Her smile died faster than a switched off faucet. “Double whoa. Cash, didn’t we talk about this yesterday? I’d never have come here if I wasn’t serious about giving your whole program a go. Just because I’m lousy at athletics doesn’t mean I’m not willing to try almost anything. But climbing is honestly different—”

      “Yeah. So you said yesterday. Climbing was the only thing you didn’t want to do.” He tried fitting a white helmet on her head, only to discover that it was way too big. He clipped back to the shed for the children’s sized helmets.

      “Yes. For real. Because I’m afraid of heights.”

      “I understand.” The red helmet fit her perfectly, even if it did smoosh down the riot of dark curls. Those soft dark eyes staring up at him were bleak with dread. “That’s exactly why I want you to do this, Lexie. Because you’re scared. When you came here, you agreed that I’d be the boss, remember? And I’m not asking you to try climbing to make you miserable. I’m asking you because of what happened this morning.”

      “You mean my falling in the creek?” she asked in confusion.

      “Uh-huh. I gave you the easiest exercise we have. And you flunked it. So now we’re going to try the opposite—giving you something that’s tough for you. And you’re not only not going to flunk this one, you’re going to ace it.”

      “Uh, Cash. I don’t think so. In fact…see my hands? They’re already getting sweaty. And my stomach. Even thinking about heights is making my stomach turn over. The thing is…”

      She never finished that sentence. She stopped talking when he started fitting the climbing harness on her. There was nothing suggestive about putting a helmet on her head—but the harness was necessarily more intimate. She was fully clothed in jeans, of course. But each leg had to be fit in a stirrup, and secured around her upper thighs. He did the securing.

      Then the harness had to be worked over her hips and secured at her waist.

      He did that securing, too.

      He’d done it for a zillion women. And men. It was part of his job, for Pete’s sake. It was one of the ways he could guarantee a client’s safety, because he supervised the equipment use every step of the way. Only that’s what he was always thinking about. Safety. Not thighs and fannies. Not specifically the way her slim thigh tensed when he buckled the harness snug. Not specifically the way his knuckles accidentally brushed against her pelvis. Not specifically the way his fingers curled around the harness as he adjusted the leather around her hips and fanny. Not the way her eyes suddenly shot to his when he adjusted the buckle at her waist.

      Since Lexie seemed to have quit breathing altogether, Cash figured he’d better finish that sentence for her. “The thing is…rock climbing is about trust. Not blind trust. Proven trust. There are different kinds of rock climbing, Lex. What we’re doing isn’t ‘free’ climbing. It’s called ‘technical’ climbing.”

      She didn’t answer. When she looked down, though, to where his hands were still fumbling at her waist, she very likely saw his zipper jutting out as if someone had stuck a long, smooth rock in his jeans. Well, hell. It was a knee-jerk biological response. Nothing a guy could help. How could a man possibly touch a woman like Lex and not feel a volatile response?

      “Technical climbing is especially about trust,” he said gruffly. “Because I’m going to be attached to you with equipment the whole time. You’re afraid of falling, right?”

      Suddenly she was looking straight in his eyes and not an inch lower. “Yes.”

      “So that’s what we’re going to do, Lex. You’re going to climb up a bit, and then we’re going to make you fall. Only I’m going to be attached to you with equipment the whole time. Nothing dangerous is going to happen. There is no possible way I would let you get hurt, do you hear me? And I’m going to prove that to you. Because when you fall, I’ll be there for you.”

      Somehow anything he said seemed to be coming out wrong—as if he were talking about falling in love instead of falling off rocks. And there was this look in СКАЧАТЬ