Falling for Mr. Wrong(59)

“Right,” Brit’s voice continued, a mix of exasperation and amusement. “So that’s basically my life now. Talk to you soon.”

The message ended. Ross stared at the phone and shook his head. Brit and Tori, here? Why had it never occurred to him that his family might travel to Denver to see him?

Out of the corner of his eye, Ross watched as Kelsey relaxed her head against the back of her seat and closed her eyes. He wondered what they would think of her. He wondered what Jenna would think of her.

God, he was really starting to lose his mind. He couldn’t introduce her to any of them. He couldn’t see her again. This weekend had to be the last.

People do this, she’d said, that day at her house.

Not him. Not a divorced father of three. He didn’t have crazy affairs. He didn’t make love to women who were headed up the deadliest mountain in the world.

“When do you leave?” he asked.

She did not open her eyes. “Two weeks.”

“Will we see you again?”

“Probably not. Things are going to be busy.”

“We can find the time.”

“I don’t want to see the kids. It will only make it harder.”

He wasn’t sure if she meant it would make it harder for her to leave, or it would make it harder for them if she didn’t come back. Either way, he didn’t like it.

“Is there any chance—” He cut himself off, knowing the answer.

She reached over, and for a second, her hand brushed against his leg. Then it was back in her lap, and he could barely tell if she had ever touched him at all. “If you really want, you can call me,” she said. “I’ll be around.”





Chapter Seventeen

Over the next week, Ross was glad he had Brit and Tori’s visit to hold out to the kids, because otherwise they would have driven him crazy asking about Kelsey. Where she was. If they could call her. If she would take them climbing. He told them she was busy. They’d said their good-byes when he dropped her off at her house in Boulder, and she’d managed to be completely noncommittal about any future visits. He had the feeling she wasn’t used to good-byes any more than she was used to children throwing themselves into her arms, or awkward teenage boys desperately wanting a hug but being too scared to ask for it. She’d given them hugs and smiles, but managed not to make any promises about the future.

He appreciated what she was trying to do. And he hated it, too.

He had held out for about six hours before giving in to the need to hear her voice. He called as soon as the kids were asleep. The call went to her voice mail. Five minutes later, she called back.

“We have two weeks,” he said. “I need to see you again.”

“When?” she’d answered. “Where?”

They met at her house or his office. They made love on his desk, her couch, her bed, even his bed when he knew Hope and the kids would be out for the day. Their coupling was hard and needy. They didn’t talk afterward.

One day, they met at a coffee shop. He told her that he was moving forward with the plans for the resort. She told him they were autographing copies of their pictures for Artisan, and trying to decide whether it was worth the extra five pounds to bring along an additional tank of oxygen. They were spinning in two different universes, and they knew it, so they didn’t bother with small talk again. Just went back to her house, held each other, and made fierce, passionate love.

Late Sunday afternoon, Brit, Tori, and little Patrick arrived. They’d rented a car, and when they pulled up the kids ran out of the house and pounced on them before they’d even gotten to the front door. It had only been three weeks since he’d seen his brother, but in that time somehow Brit had changed. He seemed older somehow, and there was something in his eyes Ross didn’t recognize. Tori, on the other hand, hadn’t changed a bit. She was the same tiny, curvy spitfire that Ross had known immediately was the only woman who could ever hope to stand up to his brother. After a hearty hug that pulled her feet right off the floor, she and the kids went down into the basement to entertain Paddy, while Ross pulled a beer from the fridge and handed it to his brother.

Brit was a few inches taller than he was, with a hook in his nose from a long-forgotten fight, and a leaner frame than Ross. The brothers shared the same Bencher blue eyes, and thick, inky black hair. Now, though, Brit looked tired. Something in his usual brash confidence was missing.

“How was the flight?” Ross asked. “How did Paddy do?”

“He screamed a lot,” Brit said, rubbing a hand across his eyes. “What did you do with your three on planes? I thought I was going to lose my mind.”