She left for the slopes the next morning before Austin and Richard even got out of bed, and stayed there till past noon, enjoying the solitude, and the new snow. Everything about the ski run was magic, and the tension she'd felt during her early morning encounter was gone. She felt enthused, energetic, and ready to take on the world again. Wind in her ears had done it. Dazzling white, accented by stark pine green trees, and views of craggy peaks above, surrounded by majestic towering rock formations; these things eased the ever present rush of pressure she felt most of the time.

Hungry, by two, she decided to return to the cabin, which wasn't really a cabin, but a full-fledged house, on beautiful property nestled in filigreed fir trees and gray and black, marbled silver rock lined paths. She breathed deeply, riding the lift, thankful that she'd met Austin, agreed to do the film, and that he didn't mind her presence at his place.

Her other option wouldn't be ready till after Christmas. The house she and Bridget were buying in Laguna Hills.

She left her skis at the back door, and as she climbed the stairs, Austin, dressed in parachute pants and a Nike T-shirt, eating something in a bowl, presumably cereal, opened the door with his mouth full.

"The long lost prodigal sister returns!" He said, with his mouth full, and a huge chewy grin. She slapped him a high five as she entered, slipping in her socks on the hardwood kitchen floor. Her eyes adjusted to the glare off the front room that left the whole interior bathed in silhouette. And her ears adjusted to the strident tones of Toni Basil singing, "Oh Mickey, you're so fine. You're so fine you blow my mind, Hey Mickey! Hey Mickey!"

She blinked, heading straight for the refrigerator, hoping Austin's chef had already come and gone leaving something yummy. The TV was blaring MTV, and she looked over to see a cheer-leader cavorting across the screen with her pompoms. She hadn't seen the music video for that particular song, and cocked a shoulder as Austin appeared at her side.

"There's manicotti, whole grain Farfalle with spicy shrimp and roasted peppers, whole grain Penne with sun dried tomatoes and corn and butternut squash with sage pesto. Or you can make a salad." He showed her the covered plastic containers.

"Um, yum." She reached for the first one, and smelled it in delicious welcome. "Thanks, brother dear."

"Um, yeah." Austin went back to his cereal, and left her to it, very like a brother might, not a host, for which she was supremely grateful. She wondered not for the first time how long this pretending thing would last. Pretending they were siblings, and her actually mooching off his generosity. She hoped all winter. This getaway was priceless.

She dished herself up a bowl of the Penne, stuck it in the microwave, and set water to boil for Plum Flower tea.

"Richard tells me he astonished and possibly offended you at 3 a.m. jacking off and snorting coke."

Tracy's eyes flew to her forehead, and she bit her lips tight. "That was blunt. He said that?"

"I did!" He yelled from the couch, where he'd been admiring the cheerleader view. "Didn't want you tattling to the hostess with the most-est."

"Well, then, yeah, you really astonished me."

"Not offended? Then why'd you lock the door? I came down to apologize, but you did the running off thing like a virginal school girl." He leaned up on his knees, his arms crossed on the back of the couch.

She chose to ignore the jibe. He would try and turn the tables on her, make it seem like she was the one with the problem. "I didn't realize you were jacking off as well."

"Shit, you're saying I should have finished?"

"By all means. Why don't you----."

"Now, now chillens...." Austin held up his spoon and waved it in the air. "Nobody's judging, nobody's tattling. Let's all take a chill pill."

Tracy retrieved her own warm bowl and leaned against the counter overlooking the living area at Richard who was leaning over the floral couch looking at her. His eyes were enigmatic and slightly defensive.

"Miss High and Mighty Mormon girl is judging. I felt it all the way from her locked bedroom." Richard called, "And I've done nothing but try and be kind to her."

"Whatever. You're arrogant and bossy, and now you're judging me for my religion? What--ever." Tracy spooned the steaming pasta into her mouth, watching him through slitted lashes.

"Cheeky." Richard responded good-naturedly, even though his accusation hadn't been exactly good-natured.

"What do you have against my religion? Or is this another deflection so you don't have to deal with your illegal behavior last night?"

"Illegal? I told you Austin, she's got my number. She's planning to turn me in."

"Nobody's turning anybody in." Austin pointedly eyed her and she shrugged noncommittally.

"I'm not saying I will or won't, but he owes me an apology. He trapped me there, and wouldn't let me go. I was mortified."

"I had a hard on, baby, I held you that way so you wouldn't see it in all its raging glory." That wasn't the whole reason he'd held her that way, she thought. There was more to it than that.

"And you haven't answered my questions. What do you have against my religion?"

"Is it something you hold dear, dear?" Richard got off the couch, collecting a plate and cup as he came to the kitchen. Tracy kept her eyes on his white t-shirt and not his stubble covered face. His handsome stubble covered face...

"Very dear, dear." She wagged her head, with those fair eyebrows angled up. "And since you know little or nothing about it, I suggest you quit knocking it. I didn't say anything even slightly judgmental to you regardless of your porn addiction, or your drug addiction, or your self-centered whatever addiction."

"Porn addiction? Can you even be addicted to porn? Who said anything about porn? Are you saying that because I was jacking off?" He laughed uproariously. Tracy wasn't as amused. "I love porn, and I have every right to look at or read it or watch it on cable if I want."

"Yes, you do. And I'm entitled to my opinions about it as well."

"Which are?" He was loading his dishes into the dishwasher, his slender physique revealed beneath the loose white shirt, and the gray jersey warm up pants.

Tracy tried to remain calm, feeling boxed in with him guarding the way of retreat again. She pushed herself up on the counter, dangling her feet, but fully prepared to flip around and jump off the other side if she needed to get away.

"It's demeaning to women, it makes a mockery of true love and sexual expression, it's self-serving and perverted, and makes it easy for people to objectify the opposite sex. There's no love in porn, no romance, no real desire to please or care about another person." She finished her bowl, reached past his unresisting hands to rinse it and put it in the dishwasher, hip tossing him out of her way.

Richard sputtered.

She'd thought about it. And her response was intellectual, smart and to the point, but quite rational. He had no choice but to respect it by his own standards. Richard prided himself on being open-minded.

"I do not demean women." He said, standing back while she closed the dishwasher door.

"I didn't say you did. I said pornography demeans women, it objectifies them, and takes love out of the self-gratification equation." She snapped his mouth shut with two fingers and stepped past him. But Richard caught her once again around her waist.

"Come to the gym with me."

"What?"

"Come downstairs to the gym with me. I want to teach you some martial arts moves--- so you won't feel objectified." He said the word slowly as if he'd never said it before, and then grunted. "I like that word." So she knew he never had said it before.

"Fine. You can teach me to fight, and I'll be the first to fight you--- in the middle of the night, if you ever try and hold me against my will again."

He shrugged, pushed off from the wall and snapped his fingers in glee. "I'm not a drug addict either. Recreational weekend use only, like every other red-blooded American A-list actor."

In answer, her eyes flashed blue fire at him, and her saucy smile filled his view.

"You don't have to justify yourself to me. I don't care what you do, as long as you don't try and hold me----."

"Against your will again. Fine, next time I'll make sure I'm holding you willingly."

"Never happen, bucko." She flounced past him, trailing her fingers across his chest, her eyes sparkling.

"I kinda thought you'd be pissed at me still." He said low, his eyes shooting golden sparks in the warm caramel she found so intriguing.

She shrugged at the top of the stairs. "I can forgive and forget. It's part of my.... Religion."

Richard nodded, and licked his finger while writing an imaginary tally mark in the air. "Touché."

******