Not Even for Love(25)

Reeves was busy with his camera, taking pictures of Helmut against the backdrop of snow-covered peaks on the near and far horizons.

When business was taken care of, the three sat around a table in the indoor lounge and Helmut ordered cappuccino for them.

“Well, now I can boast having been on top of one of the Alps,” Reeves said.

“Not quite the top,” Helmut said.

“What?”

Jordan explained. “To get to the actual summit you have to climb some stairs up about sixty more feet. There is a platform up there.”

Reeves seemed uninterested and she prodded, “Come on. Let’s do it.”

“Climb up there?” he asked, instantly alarmed.

“Yes!”

He glowered at her from under his eyebrows. “I don’t think so,” he mumbled.

“You really should, Reeves,” Helmut chimed in. “It’s quite spectacular.”

Reeves still hedged and took another sip of his drink. “I don’t—”

“You’re not afraid, are you?” Jordan taunted.

“No,” he growled.

“Well, then, let’s go.” She stood up and shrugged back into her parka, which she had put on as soon as she stepped off the cable car. She whipped her knitted cap out of the pocket and pulled it over her hair, low on her forehead.

Reeves really didn’t have a choice. “All right,” he grumbled as he stood up and pulled on his fleece-lined shearling coat.

“Coming, Helmut?” Jordan asked when he made no move to get out of his chair.

“No, you children run along. The doctor cautions me that a man of my age should take it a little slower.”

Reeves and Jordan laughed. He looked anything but decrepit as he sat there sipping his cappuccino, his legs crossed, one Gucci loafer swinging negligently.

Reeves hung his camera around his neck as Jordan virtually dragged him out of the coffee shop. “I could easily throttle you. I don’t want to do this,” he said as they crossed the compound toward the stairs that would take them to the top.

“You said you weren’t afraid as long as you were on solid ground.”

“I lied.”

“There’s nothing to worry about. The platform only sways a few degrees and the nearest plateau is only a thousand feet down.”

He paled significantly, but she only laughed and pulled him along behind her. They had climbed about half the stairs when they stopped momentarily to catch their breath in the thin air. He looked at her seriously, took her by the shoulders, and said solemnly, “Jordan, I want you to remember one thing if something should happen to me.”

“Reeves—”

“Promise me,” he said urgently.

“All right,” she vowed. “I promise.”

“If I should go toppling off the side of this mountain, try to get the camera from around my neck and catch the shot.”

She swung at him with her fist, but he dodged it, laughing and holding off her pummeling fists with one hand while he drew her against him with the other arm.

“You devil!” she cried. “I thought you were serious.”

“I was! You’d probably win the Pulitzer.”

She spun around huffily, but they were both laughing as they trudged up the remainder of the way.

When they reached the top, Reeves took one sweeping look, said, “Very nice,” and then turned back toward the stairs.

Jordan reached out and grabbed his elbow. “No you don’t. I didn’t climb all the way here for nothing.” It was noticeably colder so she zipped her parka together and stuffed her hands into the fur-lined pockets. She leaned back against the rail and breathed in the cold air.

“Stay right there,” Reeves commanded as he brought his camera up to his eyes. He moved closer, stepped away, held the Nikon first horizontally, then vertically. The shutter snapped with a hypnotic cadence. Jordan loved to watch the way he moved, crouching, standing straight, leaning back with his hips thrust forward, leaning forward. It was a masculine ballet.

“You make a very pretty picture, Jordan. I love you in that red. It looks great against the white and black fur. The sweater and cap against the gray-white background. Super …” His voice trailed off as he took another series of pictures. “The cold has made your cheeks rosy and I liked the black wisps of hair blowing out from under the cap. Great. Exhale now so I can see the vapor. Great. Turn your head to the left a little. There. Lower your chin. Smile. Now serious. Perfect. Nice.”

When he ran out of film, he capped his lens and cautiously walked over toward the rail. “Helmut might not like seeing so many pictures of me in an article about him,” she said.

Reeves moved closer and paused before he said, “Helmut will never see these pictures. They’re for me alone.”