Her Mountain Man Read Online Free Page A

have changed since my father’s day, the pay is pretty lousy.” Her mother had had the money in the family; in darker moments, Sierra had wondered if that was the chief reason her parents had wed.
    “He made money selling the film rights to his expeditions, didn’t he?” Paul said. “He was one of the first climbers to do that. Today, it’s all about sponsorships. I have a couple of mountaineering-equipment manufacturers and outdoor-clothing suppliers who sponsor me. And I’ve got an agent who’s trying to get me to go on the lecture circuit.”
    “My dad did some of that, too. There was nothing he liked better than a captive audience.”
    “Really?” He leaned forward, eyes alight with interest. “Was he like that at home, too?”
    The man was good, but she’d dealt with tougher interview subjects. She focused once more on her notebook, reserve firmly back in place. “You still haven’t answered my question. Why do you climb mountains?”
    “There are some people who think that each person fulfilling his or her potential is enough of a reason to do anything,” he said.
    “Let me guess—you picked that up from a Sherpa you met on Everest.”
    “I met him on Nanga Parbat, actually. Do you like your job? Do you enjoy what you do?”
    “Most of the time, yes.”
    “I enjoy mine, too.” He leaned back to allow room for Kelly to set down the pizza.
    “What is there to enjoy about risking frostbite and hypoxia on some lonely mountain peak? About living on peanut butter and oatmeal for days in the middle of a blizzard?”
    “All those things you mentioned—the frostbite and danger and lousy food—that part of mountaineering sucks,” he said. “But the climbing itself—pitting myself against the elements and then reaching my goal—in those moments, I feel so incredibly alive. I think it’s the closest any human can get to immortality.”
    She stared at him. “Aren’t you a little young to be worried about immortality?”
    He dragged a slice of pizza onto his plate and refused to meet her gaze. “High mountains are one of the few places still relatively untouched by human development. The scenery is spectacular, like nothing you’ll find on the flatlands. Your father must have felt the same way. Didn’t he ever talk about it?”
    “No.” She laid her pen aside and helped herself to the pizza.
    “Then I don’t really know how to explain it to you. Tomorrow, let’s go up into the mountains so you can see for yourself.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “We’ll take a Jeep tour. Go up above tree line. It’ll give you a whole new perspective on what I do and why I do it.”
    Would it? Or was this just another way for him to avoid answering her probing questions? “And if I refuse?”
    “You want to get a good story, right? I’m better at showing what I do and why than sitting here talking about it. If we were up in the mountains, I think I could explain things better.”
    She could see his point. Putting a subject in an environment where he felt comfortable could sometimes get him to reveal a side of himself she might not otherwise see. “If I go with you, you’ll answer my questions?”
    “I’ll do my best.” He offered another charming smile. “Hey, you came here to work, but it doesn’t mean you can’t have fun, too.”
    “Barreling up a mountain in a Jeep isn’t really my idea of fun.”
    “Then you don’t know what you’re missing. Better skip the skirt and heels,” he said. “And wear a coat. It gets cold up there.”
    “Anything else I should bring?”
    “No, I’ll take care of the rest.”
    “Just come prepared to talk.”

    A N HOUR LATER , with blisters the size of half-dollars on both heels and heartburn from the delicious but too-spicy pizza, Sierra climbed the stairs from the Western Saloon to the hotel overhead. Unlike her tiny, contemporary apartment, the accommodations were spacious and furnished with an old-fashioned brass bed and a wooden chest of drawers,