“No, but thanks. I’ve got to get out to the bunny run. I’ve got lessons stacked up for the next couple of hours.”
“If you’re sure...” Bob’s tone told her he knew exactly why she was leaving and the compassion in his eyes let her know he understood.
Oh, if he started being sympathetic, this could get ugly fast and she wasn’t about to let a single tear drop anywhere in the vicinity of Sam Wyatt. She’d already done enough crying over him to last a lifetime. Blast if she’d put on a personal show for him!
“I’m sure,” she said quickly. “But I’ll come back tomorrow to check on you.”
“That’d be good,” Bob told her and gave her hand a pat.
Lacy didn’t even look at Sam as she turned for the elevator. Frankly, she wasn’t sure what she might do or say if she met those green eyes again. Better to just go about her life—teaching little kids and their scared mamas to ski. Then she’d go home, have that massive glass of wine, watch some silly chick flick and cry to release all of the tears now clogging her throat. Right now, though, all she wanted was to get out of there as quickly as she could.
But she should have known her tactic wouldn’t work.
“Lacy, wait.”
Sam was right behind her—she heard his footsteps on the wood floor—but she didn’t stop. Didn’t dare. She made it to the elevator and stabbed at the button. But even as the door slid open, Sam’s hand fell onto her shoulder.
That one touch sent heat slicing through her and she hissed in a breath in an attempt to keep that heat from spreading. Deliberately, she dipped down, escaping his touch, then stepped into the elevator.
Sam slapped one hand onto the elevator door to keep it open as he leaned toward her. “Damn it, Lacy, we have to talk.”
“Why?” she countered. “Because you say so? No, Sam. We have nothing to talk about.”
“I’m—”
Her head snapped up and she glared at him. “And so help me, if you say ‘I’m sorry,’ I will find a way to make sure you are.”
“You’re not making this easy,” he remarked.
“Oh, you mean like you did, two years ago?” Despite her fury, she kept her voice a low hiss. She didn’t want to upset Bob.
God, she hadn’t wanted to get into this at all. She never wanted to talk about the day Sam had handed her divorce papers and then left the mountain—and her—behind.
Deliberately keeping her gaze fixed to his, she punched the button for the lobby. “I have to work. Let go of the door.”
“You’re going to have to talk to me at some point.”
She reached up, pulled his fingers off the cold steel and as the door closed quietly, she assured him, “No, Sam. I really don’t.”
Thank God, Lacy thought, for the class of toddlers she was teaching. It kept her so busy she didn’t have time to think about Sam. Or about what it might mean having him back home.
But because her mind was occupied didn’t mean that her body hadn’t gone into a sort of sense memory celebration. Even her skin seemed to recall what it felt like when Sam touched her. And every square inch of her buzzed with anticipation.
“Are you sure it’s safe to teach her how to ski so soon?” A woman with worried brown eyes looked from Lacy to her three-year-old daughter, struggling to stay upright on a pair of tiny skis.
“Absolutely,” Lacy answered, pushing thoughts of Sam to the back of her mind, where she hoped they would stay. If her body was looking forward to being with Sam again, it would just have to deal with disappointment. “My father started me off at two. When you begin this young, there’s no fear. Only a sense of adventure.”
The woman laughed a little. “That I understand.” Her gaze lifted to the top of the lift at the mountain’s summit. “I’ve got plenty of fear, but my husband loves skiing so...”
Lacy smiled as she watched her assistant help a little boy up from where he’d toppled over into the soft, powdery snow. “You’ll love it. I promise.”
“Hope so,” she said wistfully. “Right now, Mike’s up there somewhere—” she pointed at the top of the mountain “—with his brother. He’s going to watch Kaylee while I have my lesson this afternoon.”
“Kristi Wyatt’s teaching your class,” Lacy told her. “And she’s wonderful. You’ll enjoy it. Really.”
The woman’s gaze swung back to her. “The Wyatt family. My husband used to come here on ski trips just to watch the Wyatt brothers ski.”
Lacy’s smile felt a little stiff, but she gave herself points for keeping it in place. “A lot of people did.”
“It was just tragic what happened to Jack Wyatt.”
The woman wasn’t the first person to bring up the past, and no doubt she wouldn’t be the last, either. Even two years after Jack’s death, his fans still came to Snow Vista in a sort of pilgrimage. He hadn’t been forgotten. Neither had Sam. In the skiing world, the Wyatt twins had been, and always would be, rock stars.
The woman’s eyes were kind, sympathetic and yet, curious. Of course she was. Everyone remembered Jack Wyatt, champion skier, and everyone knew how Jack’s story had ended.
What they didn’t know was what that pain had done to the family left behind. Two years ago, it had been all Lacy could think about. She’d driven herself half-crazy asking herself the kind of what-if questions that had no answers, only possibilities. And those possibilities had haunted her. Had kept her awake at night, alone in her bed. She’d wondered and cried and wondered again until her emotions were wrung out and she was left with only a sad reality staring her in the face.
Jack had died, but it was the people he’d left behind who had suffered.
“Yes,” Lacy agreed, feeling her oh-so-tight smile slipping away. “It was.” And tragic that the ripple effect of what happened to Jack had slammed its way through the Wyatt family like an avalanche, wiping out everything in its path.
While the kids practiced and Lacy’s assistant supervised, the woman continued in a hushed voice. “My husband keeps up with everything even mildly related to the skiing world. He said that Jack’s twin, Sam, left Snow Vista after his brother’s death.”
God, how could Lacy get out of this conversation?
“Yes, he did.”
“Apparently, he left competitive skiing and he’s some kind of amazing ski resort designer now and he’s got a line of ski equipment and he’s apparently spent the last couple of years dating royalty in Europe.”
Lacy’s heart gave one vicious tug and she took a deep breath, hoping to keep all the emotions churning inside her locked away. It wasn’t easy. After all, though Sam hadn’t contacted the family except for the occasional postcard, he was a high-profile athlete with a tragic past who got more than his share of media attention.
So it hadn’t been difficult to keep up with what he’d been doing the past couple of years. Lacy knew all about his businesses and how he’d put his name on everything from goggles to ski poles. He was rich, famous and gorgeous. Of course the media was all over him. So naturally, Lacy had been treated to paparazzi photos of Sam escorting beautiful women to glamorous events—and yes, he had been photographed with a dark-haired, skinny countess who looked as though she hadn’t had a regular meal in ten years.
But it didn’t matter what he did, because Sam was Lacy’s ex-husband. So they could both date whomever they wanted to. Not that she had dated much—or any for that matter.