Descent Page 9

  Shannon didn’t miss the innuendo in Nikki’s statement and a wave of jealousy ran through her. If she made a move on Caroline…

  “Get some sleep, Shannon. You’ve gotta win tomorrow,” Frank said as he and Nikki walked out the door arm in arm but not before Nikki blew her a kiss over her shoulder.

  Shannon sat in one of the chairs at the long table in the middle of the room. Nikki was not the first married woman to come on to her, and she wasn’t the first wife of a sponsor to do so either. There was that time in France a few years ago when the wife of the event sponsor cornered her in the hotel bathroom. She had met her the night before at the sponsor event and the interest was unmistakable. She had chatted Shannon up all night, and toward the end of the evening when she followed Shannon into a stall in the ladies room and locked the door behind her, Shannon wasn’t surprised. It really couldn’t be called a stall at all. The walls went from the floor to the ceiling and the door was full length with slats that allowed you to look out but no one could see in.

  There was plenty of room and the woman dropped immediately to her knees after a searing kiss that left Shannon’s legs quivering and her clit throbbing. She knew she shouldn’t be doing this, but as the woman worked her skillful tongue on her she couldn’t think of one reason why not. Several women came and went, none of whom had any idea what was going on in the stall second from the end.

  Shannon was normally a vocal lover, and the combination of the circumstances, the thrill of the place, and what was being done to her sent her over the edge. She came biting her tongue, her moan camouflaged by the sound of the hand dryer. When the woman washing her hands left, the woman between her legs stood and unlocked the door. She walked out of the stall, washed her hands and face, straightened her blouse, and calmly strolled out as if she hadn’t just had her mouth on the most intimate place of a virtual stranger. Shannon had never had such an erotic experience before or since.

  Shannon pulled her jacket over her shirt, the TKS logo embroidered on the back and over her left breast. She found it ironic that the clothing line Frank Striker made protected her from the scrapes and scratches on the trail, and she wondered if he made anything to protect her from his wife.

  On her way back to the hotel she passed the expo village and the party was in full swing. The Saturday night before the final was always a night of adventure and excitement for everyone. Everyone except the most serious riders, that is. They needed to be sharp the next day or run the risk of smacking into a rock, catapulting over their handlebars, or worse yet, falling down a mountain. When she was first on tour she hadn’t missed a Saturday night. If she somehow had not made the finals, she partied without hesitation. If she was on tap the following day, she still partied, but not with the abandon she normally would have. It was hell to fly down a rough, rock-strewn mountain with a headache. She kept walking, the sounds of laughter and music fading behind her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Caroline was at the bottom of the lift waiting for her and her bike to be taken to the top of the mountain. The final day of the second race in the series was bright and clear and the crowds were enormous. The gondola operator recognized her and allowed her to sit alone on the wide bench instead of having to share with others. The chair could hold as many as four, but since she was alone, she sat dead center.

  The nineteen-minute ride to the top was noisy. The hum of the cable pulling her and her fellow finalists, their bikes, and the hundreds of fans that dotted the course up and down the hill was steady. She could see most of the trail below her and watched as a rider made her way down the mountain, zigzagging around the hairpin turns, jumping over rocks, and vaulting over ditches. No one rode that good. No one could do what that woman was doing except one person, and Caroline watched intently as Shannon negotiated every turn and challenge. When she crossed the finish line, the roar of the crowd hurt her ears, even as far away as she was.

  Caroline shuddered. It wasn’t because it was cool at the top of the eight-thousand-foot mountain or because of the 360 degree view of the valley. She shuddered after watching Shannon conquer the mountain with the skill and grace rarely displayed by any other rider, male or female. Her bike was an extension of her body. Her legs connected to the pedals as if they were her own feet, the handlebars a lengthening of her arms, the machine flowing under her like a ballerina floating through the air.

  It had been ten years and Shannon had only gotten more attractive with age. Where once was a lanky teenager, now was a stunningly gorgeous woman. Her shyness had been augmented with confidence almost verging on cockiness. Her hot looks were replaced with charisma and sex appeal. Either way, Shannon still had the ability to take her breath away, and she hated herself for it. She knew Shannon’s reputation on the circuit. Hell, she had seen it in person. She had more women after her than anyone she had ever seen. Caroline was no prude, but even she drew the line at someone new in her bed in every city.

  Maybe she was jealous. The thought of Shannon doing to another woman what she had done to her made it seem somehow cheap and superficial. Touch here, get moan in return. Run tongue down there and get quiver of response. Insert finger into slot A then remove. Repeat action until orgasm is achieved.

  “What in the hell am I doing?” Caroline shouted into the thin air. Her seat bounced in reaction to her body’s forceful question. “This is one of the biggest races of my life and I’m thinking about everything other than the next forty minutes of my life. I could get myself killed. Snap out of it, Caroline. Pull your head out of Shannon’s crotch and concentrate.” The last word finished just before she arrived at the summit.

  Caroline smoothly stepped off the lift and gathered her thoughts back to where they should be—on the race ahead of her as she waited for her bike to be passed to her. She had to be on the top of her game or not only could she lose this event, she could hurt herself severely if she weren’t careful. A broken collarbone, or any other major injury, and her chance at the championship was over.

  Approaching the start line, Caroline closed her eyes and envisioned the course below. She had memorized the trail as described on the map and after the ten practice laps she had run over the past few days, she was comfortable with what she needed to do when. The course was challenging, to say the least; this was, after all, the world championship. Not a race for novices or the tentative. She would attack the mountain like she attacked everything and in the end would not say she didn’t give it her best.

  The bell sounded and in almost the blink of an eye she was approaching the bottom half of the course. The turns were tighter, the climbs steeper, the terrain rougher than at the top, and even more dangerous as the riders tired. Her front tire hit a mogul harder than she anticipated, the jolt absorbed by her front fork shock absorbers. Her right hand slipped off her grip and her handlebar veered to the left. Her front wheel threatened to spin out from under her and she struggled to maintain control. If she fell on this part of the course it would be more than a little painful, it would be disaster.

  Crossing the finish line, Caroline knew she had not beaten Shannon’s time. She turned and saw that her slip in that last turn had, in fact, cost her the race. She finished second to Shannon by seven tenths of a second. The crowd was cheering and she knew some of it was for her but most was for Shannon who was in the hot seat, the place just under the scoreboard where the leader sat until dethroned by the next fastest rider. She was half sitting, half standing against her bike, her helmet in one hand, a Gatorade in the other. The smile on her face said it all.

  Before Caroline could turn away, Shannon looked directly at her. She was too far away to read the expression in her eyes, but her wide smile dropped ever so slightly before she nodded at Caroline. It was as if she were telling her something but Caroline had no idea what it was and quite frankly didn’t care.

  A crowd gathered around her and Caroline dismounted before she was knocked over. Congratulatory slaps on her back and “good race,” “nice try,” and “you’ll get
her in France” echoed from all directions. Twenty minutes later, one of the race sponsors somehow found her and took her bike and led her to the podium. Being the second place finisher, she would stand on the pedestal to the right of where Shannon would stand. The third place finisher would flank Shannon’s other side.

  Caroline drank from her water bottle while the pomp, circumstance, and speeches droned on. She was sweaty, hot, tired, and more than a little disappointed. She could have won this race if she had only had her complete attention on the race the entire time leading up to her final run. But no, she had to have a wet dream about Shannon and what it was like when she—a jolt in her side and a whistle brought her out of her daydreaming. Her name must have been called because everyone was looking at her, including the woman in third place. Tentatively, she stepped forward and onto the box with a big number two emblazoned on the front. She was handed a bouquet of flowers, and a medal was placed around her neck.

  Caroline acknowledged Fran, who had managed to get no closer than three deep in the crowd. She was waving and whistling and jumping up and down. Fran didn’t care she had come in second. Fran’s enthusiasm was contagious and Caroline couldn’t help but smile in return. It was only one race, after all. There were ten more to go, including the marathon twenty-four-hour race in Australia. She and Shannon were tied in points and she was only five tenths of a second behind her.

  Caroline was acutely aware of Shannon standing next to her. Shannon’s body was fit and firm and she filled out her bike shorts better than anyone Caroline had ever seen. Some riders chose to wear baggies, modified hiking shorts with the traditional bike short sewn in. Caroline had several pair herself but chose to wear the more fitted shorts in terrain like today’s where branches could snag on the material and slow her down, or worse.

  A tall, too thin blonde placed the medal around Shannon’s neck and instead of kissing her on the cheek, she planted her lips directly on Shannon’s. The crowd loved it, Shannon appeared to be surprised, and Caroline steamed.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer’s voice boomed over the public address system. “The winner of stage two of the world championship mountain bike series. Shannon Roberts.”

  Flashbulbs blinded Caroline and she smiled and waved to the crowd. It was expected of her and she played the part. What she really wanted to do was slap that grin off the blonde’s face and push her down the mountain behind them. But she didn’t, and after the interviews and pictures were finished, she and Fran walked to her sponsor’s trailer.

  “I can’t believe she beat you. I was watching you on the JumboTron and I thought you had her.”

  Caroline pulled off her chest protector. Sweat, grime, and dirt had accumulated on her no-longer-white T-shirt and she washed her face in the sink. The trailer wasn’t fancy, but simply a cargo trailer Striker used to store their gear at the races. It would be packed up by morning and on its way to Madrid.

  “My hand slipped,” Caroline said by way of explanation. “And my concentration,” she murmured not quite soft enough.

  “I heard that last part. What are you talking about? What got you off your mark?” Fran had been to enough races to know Caroline’s pre-race routine and how sacred it was to her.

  “Nothing.” Caroline tried to change the subject.

  “Don’t give me that. Your concentration is as legendary as your technical skill. What’s going on? You never make a careless mistake like that.”

  “Jeez, Fran, you make it sound like I’m a machine and mistakes never happen. My hand slipped; that’s all.”

  “Other people make mistakes, not Caroline Davis,” Fran said standing with her arms folded across her chest.

  “Yeah, well, Caroline Davis isn’t perfect, no matter how much you’d like her to be. I lost, but next week is Madrid and after that France and Andorra. I’ll beat her in every race through Europe so that by the time we get to Switzerland, I’ll be so far in front of her she’ll need a compass to even get close to me.”

  “She’s gotten under your skin.”

  “No, she hasn’t,” Caroline snapped. “Get over it, Fran. I have. Let me repeat myself for the last time. There is nothing going on between me and Shannon Roberts. What was is long over and nothing but a high school crush. I have moved on, and by her reputation, she has too.” Caroline slammed the lid of the equipment box. “Now shut up about it.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Caroline was true to her word and she finished ahead of Shannon in France, Madrid, and Italy. Shannon had beaten her in Germany, Andorra, and South Africa. At the end of eight races, Caroline had fifty-five points to Shannon’s fifty-three. Having the highest number of points, Caroline was wearing the blue jersey for this race. Nine weeks had passed since she tore Fran’s head off during their argument in Scotland, and she was due to arrive at the end of the week.

  The flight from South Africa to Geneva was a marathon twenty-one hours of travel time and three different flights. She was battling jet lag, fatigue, and unsuccessfully trying to avoid Shannon. Shannon seemed to be everywhere she went. It didn’t matter if Caroline was in Madrid, Munich, or Florence, Shannon was in the restaurant, at the required sponsor event, on the practice track. This was their week off with no races and she needed time to rest, practice, and be alone. The Swiss resort in downtown Champéry was the perfect place.

  Located ninety minutes from Geneva, Champéry was the picture postcard of a small village in the Swiss Alps. The Les Dents du Midi Mountains framed the village and its chalets and hotels. The town consisted of narrow streets lined with small shops and restaurants catering to the international clientele that came to Champéry in the winter for its excellent skiing and the summer for beautiful outdoor activities.

  The ninth race was being held at the Bike Park, the largest mountain bike domain in Europe. Formed by the Swiss resorts of the Portes du Soleil, Champéry, Val d’Illiez, and Morgins, the park boasted twenty-four lifts, nine downhill trails, and hundreds of miles of marked trails. If the opportunity to ride the fabulous trails didn’t make your heart stop, the stunning views of the Swiss Alps would.

  Caroline skidded to a stop after her second practice run down Trail 105, the official downhill track this year. As she had expected and didn’t want, Shannon was waiting for her at the bottom of the course.

  “Good ride.”

  “Thanks.” Caroline unbuckled her helmet and pulled off her gloves. Sweat dripped down the side of her forehead and trickled down her cheek. She wiped at it with a shaking hand. Caroline didn’t see Shannon’s bike in the vicinity and wondered what Shannon wanted. She let her do the talking.

  “When did you get here?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “Are you staying at the Hotel Suisse?” Shannon shifted her weight from foot to foot.

  “No. I’m at the Chalet Eden. My parents and a friend of mine are coming in.” Shannon wondered if the “friend” was the woman she saw Caroline with in Canada and Germany. She didn’t like it but held her opinion to herself. She didn’t know why she was here, but when she saw Caroline’s name on the practice sheet she found herself at the bottom of the mountain waiting for her.

  “How are the folks?” Shannon asked with more than a bit of irony. She could see Caroline’s father’s face when he was standing in that doorway like it was ten minutes ago.

  “Fine,” Caroline answered hesitantly.

  “Do you have time to get some lunch?” Shannon blurted out before she realized it. The expression on Caroline’s face said she was equally surprised.

  “Just lunch. I’m not going to try to pump you on information about your gear or your strategy.” Shannon tried to laugh but it came out more of a choke than anything else. She had no idea why she’d asked Caroline to lunch or even why she wanted to spend any time with her. They had been at the same races for several years and had kept their distance, so what was it about now that changed? Maybe it was seeing her with her father again that brought back all the memories.

&nb
sp; “Shannon, I don’t know.”

  “It’s just lunch. It’s not as if we’re strangers.” That was an understatement.

  “But we’re adversaries.” Caroline’s tone was cautious.

  “So? Do you think I’m going to feed you bad food so you’ll be barfing instead of beating me?” This time when she laughed it came out as expected. “Come on, Caroline. We haven’t spoken to each other in ten years. We’re grown women now. Let’s catch up.” God, it even sounded lame to her own ears.

  Shannon watched Caroline struggle with her invitation. Maybe she would say sure, what the hell, let’s catch up. Maybe she’d say no because her girlfriend wasn’t here. Maybe she’d say yes for the same reason.

  “All right,” Caroline answered hesitantly.

  Shannon jumped on it before she had a chance to change her mind. “How about I meet you at the Verita Café, say, eleven thirty?” That was an hour from now, giving Caroline enough time for another ride if she wanted and a quick shower. Shannon thought she looked fine just as she was, dirt and all.

  “Eleven thirty,” Caroline said and pedaled off toward the chair lift. Shannon watched her secure her bike and sit in the chair. Just as the lift began, Caroline turned and looked directly at Shannon, her face betraying nothing.

  The back of Caroline’s head floated farther and farther away as the gondola took her to the top of the mountain. Except this time, Shannon knew she’d be back.

  *

  She looked at her watch at least a dozen times before Caroline finally walked through the door. The closer it got to the time they had agreed to meet, the more Shannon began to doubt that Caroline would actually show up. She wasn’t used to this uncertainty. The women she went out with always showed up. As a matter of fact, most times they were early and Shannon was the one they waited for. It felt odd to have the shoe on the other foot. She didn’t like it.