The Failed Marriage. Carole MortimerЧитать онлайн книгу.
he slowed to a halt inches in front of a laughing redhead, his own austere features breaking into a smile as his arm went casually about the woman’s shoulders with a familiarity that spoke of several days’ acquaintance at least.
Joanna’s attention left the smiling woman to return to that handsome face, taking in everything about the man as he removed the woollen hat that had been keeping him warm, his hair long and dark, his eyes so light a grey they looked almost silver. He moved on his skis as if he had been born on them, kissing the redhead lightly on the mouth before taking the chair-lift back up to the top once again. The woman moved to sit on one of the bench seats outside the cafeteria, her bright red ski-suit obviously just for show as she preferred to spend hours just watching the tall dark man.
And he was worth watching; he became almost an obsession for Joanna. To her amazement, and pleasure, he turned out to have a cabin in the same complex as her parents’, and so she saw him often. Not that he noticed her. When he wasn’t skiing he was wrapped in the arms of the redhead, and Joanna felt her chagrin grow as a second week passed and all she could do was gaze at him from afar.
Then one day the redhead wasn’t waiting at the bottom of the run for him! The first day Joanna saw him at the ski-run on his own she thought perhaps the redhead had decided to spend the day in Banff for a change, but when she didn’t put in an appearance for three days in a row Joanna knew the other woman had left, that it had only been a holiday romance after all and not a cosy getaway for two in Canada.
As far as she was concerned it was the ideal opportunity for her to make him aware of her, something she hadn’t so far achieved, for all that she had tried to.
And it wasn’t so easy now either. He spent all of his days on the most experienced ski-slopes, the ones that she hadn’t progressed to yet, disappearing completely in the evenings, making Joanna wonder if he had found yet another lady to share his nights. Unless, like her, he was so exhausted by the physical exertion of a day’s skiing that he preferred to go to bed early, alone. She had got over her first initial aching body but still found the pure mountain air made her sleepy in the evenings.
Her parents felt no such inhibitions, spending most of their evenings out at dinner in one of the local restaurants with the other couple, and Joanna’s interest quickened one morning as they all lingered over breakfast, listening intently as her mother mentioned the man she herself had become so interested in. It had to be him, she hadn’t seen another man here who fitted that description!
‘Who is that fascinating man I occasionally catch a glimpse of in Banff?’ her mother asked her father. ‘The tall handsome man sitting alone in the restaurant last night.’
‘In the restaurant?’ Joanna echoed sharply, her disappointment acute that she had once again chosen to spend the evening alone in the luxury two-bedroomed cabin her parents were renting for their stay here. ‘Was he?’
Her mother, looking very attractive in a light blue cashmere jumper and perfectly matched in colour trousers, gave her a sharp look. ‘What do you know about him, darling?’
‘Nothing.’ She flushed, looking very young with her hair secured at her nape, her face completely bare of make-up, already dressed for another day’s skiing. ‘I’ve just seen him about the town too.’
Her father shrugged, a man several years older than than her mother, often giving the appearance of being slightly bemused by his beautiful wife at times. He had prematurely grey hair, was of medium height, retaining the lean masculinity of his youth. ‘I have no idea who he is. Does it really matter, Cora?’
She looked irritated by his lack of curiosity. ‘I suppose not,’ she stood up. ‘Although I do think you could show some interest.’ She lit a cigarette. ‘He’s English, you know.’
‘So are several other people here,’ he shrugged.
‘But he’s staying right here at the complex,’ his wife snapped.
‘Then ask the manager who he is,’ Joanna’s father dismissed.
‘I will not!’ her mother said indignantly.
Joanna left before she could hear her mother’s outraged reply, knowing she wouldn’t stand for her husband’s uninterested attitude towards the stranger any longer. Well, Joanna had decided that today he was going to stop being a stranger to her!
She took her skis and boots up to Mount Norquay as usual, her mother insisting that she couldn’t possibly use the rental gear available, that she must have all her own equipment, even though the whole thing had cost a complete fortune. But money had never bothered her parents, and Joanna had grown up knowing she could have anything she wanted. And now she wanted a tall dark stranger with enigmatic grey eyes that could be silver with amusement and like a storm-tossed sea in anger. She had seen the latter once when one of the young skiers came hurtling down the slope so fast he had lost control and almost ploughed down a young child in his way, only just managing to avoid her at the last moment by falling down. The man with the storm-tossed eyes had verbally ripped into the teenager, the young boy’s ears burning red at the justification of the reprimand.
But today Joanna was determined the eyes should be silver, with laughter, for her. She had never been denied anything before, and she had never waited so long for anything before either.
She could hardly believe her luck when she reached the ski area and saw the man was also in the locker-room putting on his boots. And they were completely alone. It was all turning out so beautifully!
She saw him glance over at her, but his interest wasn’t held in any way as he once again concentrated on his task. She would make him notice her! And luckily she had just the way.
‘Oh damn,’ she muttered loudly as she put on her own boots. ‘Now what am I going to do?’ She spoke as if to herself, but made sure she was loud enough to be heard by the man. She could see him moving towards her out of the corner of her eye, and was amazed at how easily he could move in the restrictive boots, always feeling ungainly in them herself until she had her skis on. But he suffered no such inhibitions, he moved easily and smoothly. Joanna looked up as if surprised to see him there. ‘Oh, hello, I thought I was alone,’ she smiled at him warmly.
He didn’t smile back. ‘Anything I can do to help?’ His voice was deep and husky, and as her mother had said, he was English.
She straightened, overwhelmed by the sexual magnetism of him now that she was this close to him, realising that he was older than she had thought, must be in his early thirties at least, that he smelt of tangy cologne and sandalwood soap. ‘I—–’ she wet her lips nervously. ‘One of the straps on my boot has broken. Do you happen to have a spare?’ She ignored the spare straps that were burning a hole in the side of her carryall.
‘I think so, yes,’ he nodded, going back to his own bag and coming back with a blue strap. ‘Will this do?’ He held it out to her.
‘I’m sure it will,’ she confirmed huskily. ‘Would you mind putting it on for me?’
Dark brows rose beneath the blue woollen hat, but he made no demur, bending down to fit the strap easily, clipping the clasp into place. ‘All right?’
‘Er—Could you tighten it a little for me?’ As he bent forward so did she, her long blonde hair softly brushing the hardness of his cheek.
He glanced up at her, his eyes silvery grey. ‘Would you mind…?’ He brushed her hair away.
Joanna sat back, sighing her chagrin, trying another approach. ‘I’ve watched you ski,’ she told him with breathless admiration. ‘You’re very good.’
‘Thank you. Better?’ He sat back on his heels, the blue insolated suit fitting tautly to his muscular body.
She blinked. ‘Better…? Oh—oh yes,’ she blushed, making a show of testing the comfort of the boot. ‘Thank you.’
He nodded and stood up. ‘Then if you’ll excuse me…’
‘Of course.’ Once again she smiled, her eyes