Page 12 of Mountain Challenge

“Just a few weeks now. The moment the kids leave on their ski trip, I’ll be there. You know that.”

“I do. And I can’t wait to show you around. You’re going to love Chamonix.” Tim’s old-fashioned doorbell chime let her know a customer had just arrived. Isla hadn’t gotten around to changing it yet, and it did add a bit of old-school charm to the studio.Maybe I’ll leave it. “I have to go, Laura. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure. But in the meantime, think about what I said, sweetie.”

Isla stood up, glancing at her calendar to make sure she hadn’t forgotten any appointments.No, no appointment. Must be a walk-in.She didn’t get many of those. Tim had told her most customers used to be walk-ins, but now, probably because making an appointment online was so easy, walk-ins were few and far between.

“Hello,” she said, stepping out of her inner studio. She looked up—and up—straight into Ry Harrison’s bright green eyes.

He was as hot as she remembered him, which was saying something.As hot as in your dreams last night. She blushed, thinking of some of the things he’d done to her in those dreams, then forced her thoughts back to the present.Here’s hoping he’s not a mind reader.

“Hi,” he said. There was a bruise on his brow, over his right eye, as if something—or somebody—had struck him there. It looked painful.

“We didn’t have an appointment, did we?” Obviously not, because she wouldn’t have allowed him to make an appointment so soon after his first one. Skin needed time to heal. Then another thought struck her. “Is the design healing okay?”

“No. I mean, no, we didn’t have an appointment. And yes, it’s healing fine. I was hoping to consult you on something … if you have a few minutes.”

His eyes were clear, and he looked healthy enough other than the bruise over his eye, but people sometimes lied. She should probably check the tattoo herself.

“Yes, of course. Come inside.” She turned and walked back into the inner studio. “But first, take off your shirt and sit there. I’d like to take a quick look.”

He complied easily, and she waited until he was leaning back in the seat, once again surprised by how small her fancy chair looked when he was sitting in it. Their gazes held for a long instant, the green in his eyes darker than she remembered it. She forced herself to look down at his chest, which was a fucking work of art. Isla inhaled sharply. Sheneverogled her clients, no matter how beautiful their body might be. But this man … There was just something about him that called out to her. Something that made him hard to ignore.

Isla forced her eyes back to the fresh tattoo on his pectoral muscle, feeling a burst of pride at how it complemented the original one, the branch strong but supple, looking like it couldwithstand the harshest wind and stand tall. Like family should. Her throat tightened. She’d married Roland hoping they’d become a family, but the two of them together had never felt strong.

She ran her finger lightly over the fresh design, pretending not to notice his sharp inhale—pretending not to notice the smooth heat of his skin against her hand.

“Looks like it’s healing well,” she said, forcing her eyes back to his face. “Any tenderness?” He shook his head no. From this close, the bruise and swelling around his eye was even more visible. “Somebody hit you.”

His finger went up to touch his temple. “I was sparring with a friend and he got a lucky hit. Don’t worry, I got a few in myself.”

There was something hot about thinking of him sparring. She’d always appreciated the male form, and she could easily imagine those beautiful muscles in action. But then, there was the other side of a fight.So. Much. Wasted. Testosterone. Isla only just stopped herself from rolling her eyes. He was a client. She wasn’t about to insult him. “I can get you some ice for that.”

“It’s okay. I’ll ice it when I get home.”

Isla nodded. “So, you wanted to talk to me about something.”

A noticeable blush spread from his neck all the way to his jaw. “I … uh … I wanted to know how you would continue the design.”

Really? That’s what he’s going with?Isla forced a neutral expression on her face. “Well, I’ll be happy to give you some ideas, but I would recommend waiting at least a month before doing any more work on it.”

“Right. Yes. That makes sense.”

“You can put your shirt on,” she said.

He did so, his movements quick and efficient, and though it was a shame to cover that chest, it also made it easier for Isla tothink. She waited, because there was clearly still something on his mind.

“I was also … uh … hoping to ask you out to dinner. Again.” The color on his face heightened noticeably, spreading up to his cheeks.

Now, Isla knew skin. She knew a blush was simply a physiological reaction—an accumulation of blood volume leading to the vascular dilation of the tiny blood vessels near the skin’s surface. And yet… that blush—or rather, what the blush said, namely that he wasn’t as self-assured as he appeared—tempted her. A lot.

Shit.

Isla knew she should say no. Nothing had changed since the first time he’d asked. Nothing, except that incredibly naughty dream she’d had the night before, and the fact that the conversation with Laura still resonated loudly in her mind.

You need to see people.

Maybe shedidneed to see people. Maybe it’d been too long since she’d had a man in her bed. Temptation rode her hard. Because maybe they couldn’t have everything—he didn’t look like a man interested in the long term—but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have something good.Pleasure. Relief. An amazing orgasm or two. It’d been a while since she’d had one of those.

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