Cathryn Parry - Something to Prove

Her voice sounded pleading, and she felt ashamed of herself. If Jeannie hung up on her, she wouldn’t blame her.

“I understand,” Jeannie said firmly. “What you need to do is call Brody. Meet with him, tell him the truth, and then give him a chance to react. Afterward, you and I will get together and talk.”

No, they wouldn’t. This whole situation was too embarrassing to discuss with anyone.

Still, Jeannie was giving her a perfect excuse to skip the close encounter with their father.

“Are you sure you won’t mind if I miss your party?” Amanda asked. “How’s the dessert bar? Do they have the lemon cake and biscotti you wanted?”

“They do. Massimo’s mother smoothed the way between the pastry chef and the restaurant manager. It worked out perfectly.”

“I should have been there. I’m a horrible sister.”

“You’re the best sister ever. You deserve all good things. And right now, you deserve time on your own, without us. You’ve been smothered by me and the Coletti clan all week, now that I think of it.”

“I haven’t. They’re so adorable, they make me want to cry.”

“I’ll see you when I get back to the room tonight, okay? Call him, Mandy. Please.”

She murmured her assent, knowing full well she wouldn’t follow through. Jeannie disconnected the call.

Lovely. Now, in addition to skipping out on her sister, she was also lying to her. Because no matter what Jeannie said, or what Amanda had agreed to, there was no way she could call Brody. Her job was simply too important to risk.

On the other hand, there was no way she could face Dad tonight either, and of all the minefields she needed to avoid this evening, that one was the most important.

Her phone beeped, letting her know she had a text. It was from Chelsea, her traditionally terse, “Got it.” Not a phone call, not a make-these-changes-now directive.

From experience, Amanda knew that meant she approved of the profile. As of this moment, her assignment was officially over.

Amanda flopped back on Jeannie’s bed and let out her breath with a whoosh. At last, some good news. After all the hassles of the day, all the worry about the layoffs at work and coming face to face with her father, now she had one less thing to stress about. Maybe she should call room service and order champagne so she could celebrate her one small victory in private.

Closing her eyes, she dared to let herself remember the low, sexy timbre of Brody’s voice, his interview responses that she’d played over and over as she’d drafted her article. When she thought of him, she felt as warm and comfortable as when she’d held Jeannie’s familiar sweater.

She was on vacation now. No one from her office was present. Who would ever know or care if she did call Brody Jones?

Forget the champagne—what if she arranged a short drink with him in the hotel lounge, at the other end of the resort from her sister’s pre-wedding party, just to get her through the night and away from her father?

Rolling onto her side, she scrolled through her contact list before she could talk herself out of it. H for Harrison, his agent’s name…

The house phone rang insistently beside her, that jolting, Italian ring tone she still wasn’t used to.

The front-desk clerks were the only people who’d ever called them on this phone. She tucked the receiver between her ear and her shoulder. “Hi,” she said to the staff member before he could launch into his business, “are you serving drinks at the lounge yet, or do I have to go to the restaurant to get served?”

A familiar laugh sounded, deep and rich. “I take it you’re finished with work,” Brody said. “Good, I was hoping that was out of the way.”

“Brody…I…hi…” A speechless reporter, wasn’t that nice?

“Amanda.” The quiet way he said her name calmed her pulse. Oh, yes, she definitely wanted to see him again. “Are you busy with the wedding, or do you have time to meet?” he asked.

She wrapped the phone cord around her finger. Obviously, they were on the same wavelength. This had to be a sign, didn’t it? “I just turned my profile in to the magazine, so, yeah, I’m free. And no, I don’t have any wedding things planned either.” She licked her dry lips. “Um, why? What did you have in mind?”

“I want to go skiing with you.”

Skiing? The word hit her like a knock to the gut. “What?”

“I, ah, need to get away for a while and just…forget about things.” His voice was low, as though he wanted to keep the conversation quiet. “I was hoping you’d join me.”

“On the mountain? In the snow?”

“Yeah. Do you have skis with you?”

She blinked, her fingers clutching the telephone receiver, pressing the cold plastic to her ear. “No, Brody,” she managed to say, “I did not fly ski equipment with me to Italy to be a bridesmaid in my best friend’s wedding.”

“Okay, then I’ll rent you a pair.”

Over her dead body. “You are out of your mind, do you know that?”

“You’ve been talking to my agent, I see.”

He thought this was funny? “Brody, you don’t understand,” she said, her voice shaking. “I can’t ski. I’m a lousy skier, in fact. And you professionals aren’t known for your patience, or your restraint.”

“Are you afraid of me, Amanda?” His voice was shocked.

“No, I’m not afraid of you, I’m just not cut out for your sport, is all. Trust me on this.”

“If it helps, the slope I’m thinking about has an old-fashioned chairlift like they used to have in Deanfield. We’d be up there for the last hour before they close, so I doubt there’ll be many people around.” He paused. “I promise to take it easy on you. I won’t let you fall.”

He didn’t get it. And her voice wouldn’t work to tell him so. Her brain wouldn’t work to tell him so. “Why can’t we stay at the hotel and have a drink together like normal people?”

“You think I’m normal?” He laughed. “Thanks, I’ll remember that. Look, there’s something on the mountain I’d really like you to see. I’ll carry you up there if you’d rather avoid the skiing part.”

Despite herself, she smiled. Carry her up there, huh? Yeah, she was a sucker for guys with warped senses of humor. Though he’d never get her anywhere near a ski-rental shop.

“So what do you say, Manda? Will you come and be a kid again with me for a couple of hours before we both have to leave?”

BRODY LEANED AGAINST THE Italianate marble fountain that stood in the rear of the main lobby. The crashing water did a world of good in helping him regain his center. His conversation with Amanda hadn’t gone the way he’d expected, or was used to. He figured it was fifty-fifty whether she’d show up at all.

He stared at the copper-colored coins tossed in the bottom of the fountain. Truthfully, this woman had knocked him for a loop. She showed real fear about the fact he was a skier. Since he’d turned pro, how many women had had that reaction?

None. He shoved his hands in his jeans pocket. Then again, in ten years he’d never pursued a woman during ski season. In his world, he’d learned there were too many temptations that could trip him up. People whose motives he couldn’t trust.

Not that their meeting today was a big deal. It was just a…two-hour date. Above all, he didn’t want to rush anything with Amanda. Since he’d been off the tour, he’d turned over a new leaf in his life: no more empty one-night stands. That went along with his skiing comeback. He was here to redo the things he hadn’t liked about himself and to make his life the way he wanted it to be. That included avoiding groupies. They were there for the picking, always around. What he wanted was something more substantial.