Snow Baby. Brenda Novak
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being an architect?” she countered.
“I love my work, but we’re going to talk about you now. What do you do?”
“I work in the district office of my state senator.”
“Were you involved in politics in New York?”
“No.”
“‘No’? That’s it? What, were you a stripper or something?”
“I was a model.”
“Really? Who’d you model for?”
Chantel bit her lip, reluctant to discuss her modeling experience because she was afraid of where the conversation would lead. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Why? You didn’t like modeling?”
“I loved it.”
“Then tell me about it.”
Cocooned against the weather, Chantel breathed in the smell of the aftershave she’d first noticed when Dillon had leaned into her car, and smiled. She could trust him. He’d come for her despite the storm, even after the police had given up.
“I did runway modeling, and some work for high-end catalogs. I was in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue a couple of years, used to model for Calvin Klein a lot. Oh, and I was on the cover of Vogue once.”
“Wow, sounds like you were pretty successful. What happened?”
Chantel thought of Wade and his demands, demands that increased with her success. “I had a boyfriend…well, more like a husband, really. We lived together for the ten years I was in New York. He modeled, too, and when he didn’t get the breaks I did, he became fanatically jealous. He insisted I cancel contracts I never should have canceled, had me refuse jobs I should have taken. I did it to preserve the relationship, to prove he came first. We’d talked about having a family, and I wanted to get married, but he kept putting me off. He said he didn’t see the point of making it official since all that mattered was what we felt, not some piece of paper. The harder I tried to please him, the more difficult he became. And then I got sick and had to quit altogether.”
“What kind of sick?”
Chantel sighed. She hated telling people what had happened to her and usually didn’t. They didn’t understand anorexia, were generally frightened of the self-hate that spurs it on. “It wasn’t anything communicable.”
“I wasn’t thinking that.” He smoothed the hair off her forehead, and Chantel closed her eyes, wishing he’d go on caressing her until the devils from her past were forgotten. “Tell me what happened,” he whispered.
“I had anorexia.”
“How bad?”
“I had to be hospitalized. The doctors didn’t think I’d make it. Neither did Wade.”
“Wade’s the man you were living with?”
She nodded. “Wade Bennett. I believe, deep down, he was hoping against me. Maybe that’s what made me decide to prove them all wrong.”
Dillon was silent for a long while. “Where’s Wade now?”
“In New York, still trying to make it, I guess. I won’t open his letters.”
Dillon’s arms tightened around her. “And you’re well now, aren’t you? You look…I mean, I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman.”
She’d heard those words before, over the years, from numerous men who’d tried to pick her up. But Dillon sounded sincere. “Anorexia is like alcoholism. You’re never really cured. It’s a constant battle.”
“It’s a battle you’ll win.”
Unable to stop herself from giving him a simple gesture of affection, Chantel played with the hair on his arm, then slid her hand up to his shoulder. “I think your wife must’ve been crazy.”
He laughed and rolled her onto her back. In the process his hand brushed her nipple, which immediately drew up hard and tight.
“Chantel?’
“Mmm?”
“Are you seeing anyone now?”
The huskiness of his voice told her he wanted her, and Chantel felt an answering warmth in the pit of her stomach. “I’m not dating anyone. I only recently moved back to California.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to kiss you.”
His head descended and his lips found and molded to hers, tasting her, teasing her, gently prodding. The practical side of Chantel screamed that she’d known this man for mere hours. But her heart felt as though she’d known him for years.
She opened her mouth to welcome his tongue, surprised that the small cut she’d received in the accident didn’t bother her, and he deepened the kiss until the warmth blooming in her belly began to spread out to her limbs. He tasted the way his breath smelled, like spearmint gum, she thought lazily, and began exploring his mouth. Circling his neck with her arms, she let her hands delve into the thickness of his dark hair, threading the short silky locks through her fingers, tugging him closer.
When she groaned, he made an identical sound in his throat, and quickened the pace of their kiss until Chantel was so hungry for more she was shaking. She shifted, pressing her body more fully against him, then gasped when his large rough palm clutched her breast.
Two fingers flicked across her nipple as he trailed kisses down her throat, whispering how wonderful she felt and tasted and looked. Chantel arched toward him, wanting him to kiss her breasts.
He read her need quickly and easily, and responded with an eagerness that made her desire spiral even higher. His mouth clamped on to her nipple, and as his tongue darted and teased and suckled, hot jolts of pleasure went through her. “That’s good,” she murmured.
He moved to the other breast, and she kneaded his powerful shoulders, reveling in the way his body fit perfectly against hers. Dillon’s size made her feel small for the first time in her adult life. And what he was doing to her—it was so fulfilling. Dillon had already touched something deep inside her, something Wade had never reached.
“Chantel?” Dillon’s raspy breath tickled her ear as he nuzzled her neck. “Do you want me to stop, Chantel? I know I said I wouldn’t touch you, but I never dreamed it would be so…”
She wrapped her legs around his so he couldn’t put any space between them. “No, don’t stop,” she whispered.
“What about birth control?”
“We don’t have to worry about it.” Chantel swallowed hard, willing back sudden tears. “I can’t have children.”
He paused above her, as though trying to see her face in the darkness. “The anorexia?”
“They told me in the hospital that my reproductive system has shut down and will never work properly again. I haven’t had a real period for over a year.” She drew a shaky breath, and then realized she was crying.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, kissing her forehead and her cheeks. “That’s a tough break, especially if you want kids.”
“There’s nothing like a baby, right?” She tried to sound flippant, but couldn’t stifle the sob that gave her true feelings away.
The sympathetic tone of Dillon’s voice caressed her as effectively as the fingers that found and wiped away her tears. “There are other good things in life,” he whispered.
Her arms tightened around his neck. “Show me one, Dillon. Show me this one,” she said, and pulled him down for another mind-numbing kiss.
CHAPTER FOUR
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