Within ten minutes she was in her room, her luggage at the foot of the bed, her bike case against the wall by the closet. Shaking off the memories of Shannon that had dogged her for the past few days, Caroline unpacked, put her clothes neatly into the tall dresser in the corner, and the contents of her backpack on the small desk. She inspected her safety gear for any damage that might have occurred in transit. She brought with her one helmet, one chest guard, two pairs of shoes, a pair of elbow and knee pads, and assorted bike shorts, shirts,

• 38 •


Descent

and socks. If she damaged or lost anything else, she could replace it from any one of the numerous vendor stands that would fill the expo area at each event.

Reaching for her iPod, her attention was drawn to a magazine lying neatly at the right hand corner of the desk. It was the program for the race, and Caroline’s breath caught in her throat as she recognized the image that adorned the cover. She didn’t need to read the caption that identified the rider as Shannon Roberts—Babe of Brodale. She was soaring over a jump with at least five feet of air between her tires and the rocky ground beneath. Her face was set in concentration, legs bent at the knees, elbows flexed, riding high in the saddle as she accelerated into the jump.

Caroline couldn’t help herself and she opened the first page of the magazine. There would be more pictures of Shannon inside and she wasn’t disappointed to see her on the second and fifth page as well. But it was the back cover that made her knees weak and the glossy pages shake in her hands. Shannon was standing in front of her bike, feet crossed at the ankles, arms across her chest. Her mouth was formed into an almost smirk but had just enough smile to be beguiling.

Her bike shorts fit her like a second skin, slim hips with strong, muscular thighs jutting out below them. Caroline knew those calves were rock solid; at least they were years ago, and they looked like they had only gotten firmer. Her fingers tingled as she remembered how smooth the skin was and how the hard muscle quivered under her touch. Mussed blond hair reminded her of how it looked after she ran her hands through it. Or grabbed it to hold Shannon’s head and mouth tight to her.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she exclaimed louder with each word. She had allowed Shannon to get to her again. And this time it was a simple set of pictures. What would it be like when she saw her in the flesh?

Something told her it wouldn’t be long before she would find out.

• 39 •


• 40 •


Descent

ChaPTER FivE

Caroline tossed the magazine on the bed and ducked into the shower—a cold shower. She knew Shannon would be featured in any material advertising the race. Not only was she one of the best downhill racers in the world, she was the media darling of the circuit. The cameras loved her, she always had a quip for the reporters, and she made absolutely no secret that she preferred to spend her off hours with the female groupies versus the male. Shannon Roberts was the draw at every event.

The fact that Shannon received all the attention didn’t bother Caroline. In fact, she was glad it wasn’t her. Where Shannon’s talent came naturally, Caroline had to work hard for everything she had. She needed to focus before each race, preferring a few hours of solitude to the massive throngs of fans clambering for her autograph. She had a reputation for being aloof in the days leading up to the race but relaxed and approachable after.

She dressed for the sponsor’s event, grabbed her room key, and headed down the stairs. There were several people sitting in the living room that Caroline assumed were other guests, and she nodded as she passed by on her way to the front door. The reception was being held about a mile away and the walk would do her good.

As she approached the event hall the sounds of music, loud voices, and clinking glasses drifted through the clear evening sky. It was cool but not so much that she needed a jacket, the long sleeves of her shirt providing enough warmth. Taking a deep breath to calm her racing pulse, Caroline stepped inside.

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JuliE CaNNoN

Shannon was talking to another rider and she glanced up just as Caroline entered the room. Everyone in the room must have stopped talking at once because the only thing Shannon heard was the thudding of her heart. My God, she’s just as hot as ever, she thought as Caroline hesitated just inside. She watched Caroline glance around the room as if looking for a familiar face to run to. Shannon knew what Caroline’s reaction had been every time she saw her. She would turn and leave the room. But Shannon wasn’t ready to stop looking at the woman who played her body like a classical guitar those many years ago, so she excused herself and found a more secluded position for her observations.

Caroline was dressed in a knee-length khaki skirt and sandals.

From experience, Shannon knew that Caroline’s pale blue shirt would bring out the color of her eyes. Her hair was tucked behind her ears, and other than a pair of earrings that sparkled in the bright lights, a big, clunky sport watch was the only other jewelry she wore.

Snagging another glass of champagne from a passing waiter, Shannon watched Caroline work her way around the room. She stopped and chatted with sponsors, the media, and other riders. An unfamiliar jolt of jealousy jabbed in her gut when two of the riders made a play for her. Caroline appeared to humor them, and after a few moments slid out of their circle and walked in the direction of the patio. Shannon followed.

The sound dimmed when Shannon closed the door behind her.

Caroline turned. Her face was an expression of curiosity, shock, desire, and hurt, one right after the other. Shannon couldn’t take her eyes off her. She hadn’t been this alone with her in years, and it was as if it were only this afternoon that they had been this close. Caroline looked like she was going to flee, so Shannon spoke.

“Hello, Caroline. You’re looking well.”

Caroline’s mouth opened and closed twice before anything came out. “Hello, Shannon. I expected to see you this week. How are you?”

Caroline shifted her weight and took a sip of her drink.

The voice was slightly huskier than she remembered, but Shannon would know it anywhere. Especially in the dark. “I’m fine, thanks.” Her brain stopped working and Shannon’s ability for witty small talk went

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Descent

with it. She had no idea what she wanted to say to Caroline. Ultimately, she knew they would see each other this week, or the next, or the one after that. She had not thought that they wouldn’t have to say something to each other, but now that it was here, she was speechless. By the look on Caroline’s face, she was as well.

Shannon felt her feet move, and before she knew it, she was standing beside Caroline looking into the dark Montreal sky. The stars winked at her as if to say they knew she had the prettiest woman at the party.“You’re riding for TKS.” Caroline broke the silence.

“Yes, I guess you could say they made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.” TKS was the world’s leading manufacturer of bicycle frames and their sponsorship was coveted. They treated their riders like gold and paid them almost as much.

“So I hear,” Caroline replied with a lightness in her voice that Shannon hadn’t expected. “Your picture is everywhere.”

“Yeah, well,” Shannon stammered. “You know how it is.” She liked being the center of attention but felt uncomfortable about it now.

“Yeah.” Caroline had sponsors and knew the drill.

“How’s the leg?” Shannon asked looking at the bare leg not far from hers.

“Better than new.”

The clenching in her gut reminded Shannon of how she felt when she found out Caroline had taken a nasty fall eighteen months ago. At twenty-nine, Shannon hadn’t been sick a day in her life other than the occasional mild cold or flu. By the grace of God, or just sheer luck, she had managed to avoid serious injury during the ten years and thousands of miles of mountain bike riding she had under her belt.

Actually, under her butt was a more fitting description, but it was the same nonetheless.

“I was sorry to hear about it.” Shannon cringed at her useless words. A fellow rider had called to tell her about Caroline’s accident assuming she would be thrilled that her major competitor would be out of the running for quite some time and said as much. Shannon had jumped down the messenger’s throat for gloating over something that was very serious. She hadn’t heard much about Caroline’s recovery,

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and other than the fading scar that snaked down the outside of her right leg, Caroline seemed to be as fine as she had said.

Caroline laughed. “You should have heard it on my end.”

Shannon’s heart skidded to a stop at the sound of the rich laughter.

Memories flooded her brain and her body and she was suddenly very hot. “Must have hurt like hell.” Shannon shuddered.

Caroline smiled at the simple statement and it was her turn to shudder at the memories and she had plenty of them. “Only when I was awake. Which was all the time because it hurt like hell,” she added.

“But I’m ready for Brodale.”

Caroline had done her research on the mountain she was bound and determined to conquer. Ski Brodale had set up three new courses on the Versant du Lac site specifically for the event. The material she read said the downhill course was filled with rocky outcroppings, wooded sections, and abrupt descents. The material went on to say that “many tight corners, jumps, and other obstacles will follow one another to create a course with a difficulty level that even the hardiest downhill kamikazes can scarcely imagine.” She had competed in several smaller races leading up to the championship series to dust off the cobwebs and get back in the groove of being in the saddle, but she wanted this win, her first big race after her first big injury.