Snowbound Weekend & Gambler's Love Read online

  The soft sobbing tearing at her emotions, Jen stared out the window with a new respect for the delicately formed crystals. They were pristine and pure, their white laciness beautiful, yet in accumulation, potentially treacherous. As, Jen mused, are many forms of nature unleashed in fury.

  Eyes squinted against the continuing glare of white, Jen felt she'd lived through days as the seconds slowly slid into long, long minutes. God, if she felt exhausted, how must Ted be feeling by now? The thought drew her eyes to the not very broad but competent-looking back. The back moved as, hand over hand, the large steering wheel was turned and the bus lurchingly crossed the highway.

  "What now?" the woman across the aisle from Jen sobbed.

  The mike clicked on as the bus came to a complete stop. Liz's voice had the breathy sound of released tension.

  "We're home free, gang," she laughed tremulously. "We're at the motel."

  As if pulled by an unseen cord, they all, Jen included, rose in their seats, necks craning to see out of the wide windshield. Sure enough, its large bulk looming darkly through the swirl of white, the motel stood a short distance before them.

  Blinking against the hot surge of moisture that filled her eyes, trembling with reaction, Jen sank back in her seat, mentally issuing a prayer of thanks. The next moment her tear-bright eyes flashed in astonished disbelief at the stupidity of a wailed question that broke through the jerkily relieved, excited chatter.

  "What do we do if they have no room and won't take us in?"

  The shocked silence that followed that inanity told Jen she was not alone in her judgment of the woman's intellect.

  "They will take us in." Ted's voice came cold and clear, without benefit of the loudspeaker. "Even if they are already packed." With a disgusted shake of his graying head he dismissed the subject, saying crisply, "Okay, gather whatever hand luggage or paraphernalia you may have with you and get ready to leave the bus. No one," he said sharply, "is getting off this bus until everyone is ready. That wind is mean, so I suggest you walk in twos and stay close together. The men will lead off in order to blaze a trail."

  Ted waited until the general hubbub of preparation had died down, then said briskly, "All right, let's go."

  The door opened, and the line that formed in the narrow aisle inched forward slowly. When she reached the front of the bus Jen was not surprised to see Ted, in snow nearly up to his knees, standing stoically beside the door, giving a helping hand to his alighting passengers. Grasping hands or arms, he assisted and steadied each successive person. When he turned to take Jen's outstretched hand a gentle smile touched his compressed lips. As she made the half step, half leap, into the snow, a strong gust of wind knocked her off balance. A strong hand at her back kept her from falling.

  "Thank you," Jen laughed shakily.

  "Thank you," Ted returned meaningfully.

  Jen shot him a puzzled look, but he had turned to assist Lisa off the step. Hunching her shoulders against the biting force of the wind, she stood beside Lisa until Terry had joined them. Huddled together they made their way carefully along the uneven path in the snow, heads bent to protect their faces from the sting of the wind and the swirling wet flakes.

  Blinking to dislodge some snow clinging to her lashes, Jen glanced up to see how much farther they had to go and felt her breath catch as her gaze encountered a partially snow-covered gold Formula, minus skis. Again a clear picture of that male right hand flashed into her mind. A shiver rippled through her body, and hunching her shoulders even more, Jen tore her eyes away from the car.

  When they reached the covered entranceway to the building, they paused to brush the clinging snow from each other before entering the roomy lobby. Joining the rest of their group, standing together off to one side, they were informed that Liz was at the reception desk inquiring about rooms. Ignoring the laughing, excited chatter around her, Jen's eyes took stock of the motel.

  It was obviously newly built; Jen labeled the decor plushy rustic. Curving open staircases, one at either side of the lobby, indicated the motel had two floors and that the rooms were reached from inside passageways. Jen registered that fact with a sigh of relief; at least they wouldn't have to plow to rooms with outside entrances. To her right, under the curve of the staircase, an archway with louvered swinging doors led into what Jen could see was the bar. Facing it across the width of the lobby, a matching archway led into a dining room, empty now and only dimly lit. To the rear two similar but smaller archways, without swinging doors, led into what Jen thought were hallways. Liz's voice drew Jen's attention from the large wagon wheel style chandelier hanging by a thick chain from the high open-beamed ceiling.

  "Can I have your attention, please?" The sound of metal clinking against metal followed her words as Liz lifted a handful of room keys. "As you can see, they were able to accommodate us. As a matter of fact we've taken the last rooms available." She paused to allow the spattering of relieved comments, then said crisply, "Now, as I call your names, please step forward for your key."

  The ensuing procedure was by necessity a slow one as Liz had to check and mark her clipboard after each key was handed out. When she got to Lisa and Terry, who had planned to share a room—as Jen and Chris had—she paused before glancing up at Jen.

  "Jennifer, you are going to have to bunk with Lisa and Terry. I'm sorry, but"—she shrugged—"that's the only way we can get everyone in."

  "It beats sleeping on the bus," Jen quipped dryly, stepping forward to join Lisa and Terry.

  "No big deal," Lisa grinned. "Unless you snore, that is."

  Key in hand, Lisa lead the way to the stairway to their right. At the top of the stairs she swung down the hallway, checking room numbers on both sides against the one on the key tag. When she reached the one that matched, she unlocked the door, pushed it open and, with a sweeping wave of her hand, ushered Jen and Terry in with a chirped, "It may get crowded, but it shouldn't get dull."

  The large room contained two double beds covered with patchwork spreads, a matching pair of molded plastic chairs in burnt orange placed one on either side of a tole metal floor lamp and a long combination dresser-desk against the long wall. A color TV with FM connection sat on the end of the low dresser closest to the chairs. The bathroom was tiled in rust, the fixtures and molded Fiberglas tub-shower combination in white.

  After they finished examining their temporary domain, Terry dropped onto the bed, declaring she was going to have a delayed nervous breakdown and then a nap. Grinning while she tugged her sweater over her head, Lisa opted for a hot shower.

  Standing at the mirror, trying to brush her damp, curly mane into some sort of order, Jen said seriously, "Being scared always dries me up. I feel parched, so I think I'll investigate that bar downstairs." Dropping the brush onto the dresser, she scooped up her handbag and left the room.

  Jen pushed through the swinging doors, then paused to take a quick inventory of the room, which was full. The end of the room closest to the entrance contained a large horseshoe-shaped bar manned by three barmaids. The center section contained a dozen or so tables covered with patchwork cloths and topped by candles set inside dark red glass globes. The .far end of the room was set up as a lounge area with a long, low-backed sofa and several overstuffed chairs grouped around a wide fireplace in which a real fire flickered and sent out long fingers of orange-red light.

  Laughter and conversation vied with the music from the jukebox. Unable to see one unoccupied seat, Jen sighed and was about to leave when she saw a raised arm beckon her to the bar.

  Following the curving bar to the still-raised arm, a smile lit Jen's face when she saw the arm belonged to Ted.

  Ignoring a softly called "Hi, honey, looking for me?" from a man four stools away from Ted, Jen made for the one and only empty seat in the place next to Ted.

  "I believe just about everyone from the bus is in this place," Jen grinned as she slid onto the stool. "That was some fancy piece of driving you did, sir. But very, very scary."

&
nbsp; "I know, I'm still shaking," Ted grinned back, holding up an exaggeratedly trembling hand for proof. "What would you like to calm your nerves?"

  "A glass of white wine, please," Jen told the hovering barmaid. Then, her face and tone serious, she looked into Ted's craggy face and murmured, "I knew you could make it."

  The lines radiating from Ted's eyes crinkled as he smiled gently at her. "And I knew you felt I could," he said surprisingly. "Your confidence and trust in me was written on your face. I could read it all the way up front. It's a look I've been blessed with on occasion from my teen-age daughter."

  "And I was thinking how much your determination reminded me of my father," Jen smiled back.

  During their exchange Jen barely noticed that the man on the other side of Ted vacated his seat or that another had claimed it. But she did hear the deep, attractive voice that asked Ted if he was the driver of the bus in the parking lot.

  Ted turned to answer in the affirmative, adding that after the ride he'd had that day, he might just look for a desk job. Ted's dry remark drew soft laughter from the unseen man, then Jen's heart thumped as a right hand was extended and the deep voice offered, "Adam Banner, and I know how you feel. I also drove through that mess."

  "Ted Grayson," Ted replied, grasping the offered hand. "And this is Miss—?" Leaning back, Ted raised his brows at Jen.

  "Jennifer Lengle," Jen supplied somewhat breathlessly, finding herself staring into a pair of eyes the color of dark brown velvet.

  The sight of his hand on the steering wheel had sent a tingle through Jen; the look of him set off a clamor. He was perhaps the most attractive man she had ever seen.

  His hair, though straight, was thick and full. The color reminded Jen of her morning toast, not dark enough to be brown, not light enough for blond. His features were even and regular, the jawline firm, determined. Dark brows slashed in an almost straight line above eyes heavily fringed with thick, dark lashes. And those eyes. If one were to imagine liquid velvet, Jen thought, bemused, it would look exactly like those eyes.

  "How do you do, Miss Lengle?" His soft voice tugged at her wandering thoughts. "May I call you Jennifer?"

  I'd rather you call me darling. The sudden thought shocked Jen, and yet it was true! She had never seen this man before. For all she knew he could be a criminal—or worse. But on his lips her name had sounded like a caress, and she felt a longing deep inside to hear that soft voice murmur an endearment. This feeling, never before experienced, confused and unnerved her. His soft questioning eyes brought her to her senses.

  "M-my friends—everyone calls me Jen," she blurted, feeling her face grow warm.

  "I think I prefer Jennifer." Sharp now with consideration, his eyes probed her pink cheeks.

  Tearing her gaze from his, Jen clutched the glass of wine the barmaid had moments before placed in front of her and, bringing it to her lips, drank thirstily.

  "I like Jen, myself," Ted opined teasingly. "It goes with the freckles."

  It was obvious from Ted's easy, unaffected manner that he had missed Jen's slight stammer, the quickened sharpness of Adam's eyes. Had she imagined it? Jen asked herself. Had that electrical tautness that had seemed to sizzle between them been in her mind? She had to find out. The glass still at her lips, she turned her head very slowly, looking at him through the lashes of her demurely lowered lids.

  He was waiting for her. The moment her glance touched him, he lifted his glass in silent acknowledgment and drank with deliberation and meaning, his eyes a warm caress on her face. Zing. The current ran, swift and hot, from his eyes to hers and down through her entire body, setting off sparks all along the way.

  "It's stopped snowing, Ted."

  The voice belonged to Liz. Dragging her gaze from Adam's, Jen turned to find the young woman at her shoulder, facing Ted.

  "Some of the people from the bus have asked about their luggage." Liz grimaced ruefully. "I was delegated to come ask you if you could possibly unload it."

  "What a bunch of sweethearts," Ted groaned. "I'll go take a look-see after I've finished my drink." Lifting his hand he motioned to the barmaid. When the mobcapped woman came to a stop across the bar, he asked, "What'll you have, Liz?"

  "A Bloody Mary," Liz replied grimly. "I need something strong to wash the bad taste away. Every tour I've been on has been the same. The majority of the people are pleasant and easy to get along with, but there are always a few who simply can't be pleased."

  The barmaid came back carrying the scarlet concoction, and Ted made a move to get up. Adam moved faster. Sliding off his stool, he reached around Ted and touched Liz on the arm.

  "Have a seat and forget all of them for a while—Liz?" His brows went up questioningly.

  "Yes—Liz Dorn, and thank you, Mr.—?"

  "Banner, Adam—and you're welcome."

  The smile he gave Liz caused an odd, sharp little pain in Jen's throat. Glancing away quickly, Jen studied the stemmed wineglasses hanging upside down on a round rack above the space behind the bar. What in heaven's name is the matter with me? Jen felt actually envious of Liz because of a smile. This is insane, she berated herself, gulping the last of her wine. You don't even know the man.

  "Would you like another?"

  Adam's warm, whiskey-scented breath feathered her cheek. Jen had to clamp her teeth together to keep from trembling.

  "I—I don't think I'd better." Jen swallowed back a groan of self-disgust. God, did that stammered, garbled reply make any sense at all? Drawing a quick breath, she went on more slowly, "I haven't eaten since we stopped for breakfast, and I'm afraid another would go to my head."

  As a matter of fact, she added silently, I'm afraid the one drink has gone to my head. Could that be it? Could it be the wine causing this funny squiggly feeling in her stomach and not the man? He was standing behind her, very close, and Jen suddenly felt hot. Yet the fingers that played with the stem of her glass were like ice.

  "You're right," Adam agreed. "It's not a good idea to drink on an empty stomach,"

  "Speaking of empty stomachs," Ted sighed resignedly, standing up, "I guess everybody's is, and as they'll probably want to shower and change before dinner, I suppose I'd better see about unloading the luggage."

  "I'll go with you," Adam volunteered. He finished his drink in a few deep swallows. "Coming, Liz?" Leaning forward, he placed his glass on the bar. Turning to look at her, he murmured, "Jennifer?"

  Jen's pulses leaped, pushing her spirits up out of the disappointed low they'd slumped into at his offer to help. Like a magnet, his eyes drew her off the stool. And like a puppet whose strings he controlled, she followed him out of the room, Liz at her side.

  At the wide glass double entrance doors they stood side by side, Ted, Adam, Jen, and Liz. The motel's bright outside lights bathed the parking area in a glow that shot glittering blue-gold reflections off the snow.

  "It looks like a Christmas card," Jen said softly.

  "Oh, yes," Liz breathed. "Isn't it beautiful?"

  "And cold," Ted grumbled. "And wet."

  The deep chuckle from beside Jen ricocheted along her nerve endings.

  "We're not going to get it done standing here looking at it," Adam drawled. "It would be a lot easier if you could bring that monster closer to the entrance. What do you think, Ted, want to give it a try?"

  "If you can get it up here, just let it sit after it's empty."

  All four turned to stare at' the small man who had spoken with authority. Thin and balding, the man was about fifty, with a pleasant smile and shrewd, intelligent eyes.

  "Bill Wakefield," he smiled, showing white, even dentures. "I'm the manager here."

  "Ted Grayson," Ted said.

  "Adam Banner," Adam smiled. "And this is Liz Dorn and Jennifer Lengle."

  Handshakes were exchanged and Bill Wakefield, his smile wry, repeated, "If you can get it up, leave it sit. I don't suppose we'll be getting any more customers tonight. I'll put a man to work with the snow blower in the front. If you can ge
t the luggage unloaded, we'll have to carry it in ourselves. I'm working with a skeleton crew, as some of my day people went home early, and most of the evening shift didn't make it in."

  "Well, I may as well get my jacket and get at it."

  Ted turned and strode across the lobby, Adam right behind him.

  Feeling completely useless, Jen stood watching as the motel employee began blowing the drifted snow under the covered entranceway. A light touch on her arm drew her attention from the gleam of white.

  "Here's Ted and Mr. Banner," Liz said quietly. "It was very nice of him to offer to help Ted."

  "Yes, he seems like a nice guy." Jen forced a note of lightness around the sudden tightness in her throat caused by the sight of Adam walking toward them.

  What was it about this man that affected her so strongly? True, he was exceptionally good-looking, but Jen was past the age of being impressed by mere good looks. No, it was more—much more—than looks. But what?

  Her expression carefully controlled, Jen watched him approach, her breath catching at a sudden leap of excitement inside. He was not even looking at her as he fastened the zipper closing of the dark brown and white ski parka he'd donned, a simple procedure made difficult because he carried a knitted cap in one hand and gloves in the other. The closing made, he glanced up, and Jen felt warmth radiate through her body as his eyes captured hers. He didn't say anything as he passed her and pushed through the heavy doors. But then he didn't have to say anything, for Jen received the message his eyes flashed to her as clearly as if he'd shouted it. The message was: Don't go away, wait for me here.

  Shaken and confused by the strange telepathic experience, Jen's eyes followed his retreating back as, side by side, he and Ted plowed slowly through the knee-high snow. Without consciously trying to do it, Jen's mind sent out a plea to him of its own. Please be careful, and hurry back to me. That shook her even more.