Sexy, hot, magnetic. Any of those would work. Ridiculous? Absolutely not.
Gabe pulled the balloon off, tying shut the neck and holding it out for Hadley to tie on the string. Their fingers brushed and she jerked back.
Gabe raised his brow. “If you’re afraid of balloons, now’s the time to tell me.”
“I’m working on getting over my phobias,” she told him. And one of the things that she needed to get over was Gabe Trask, but she didn’t seem to be making much progress. She fastened the balloon to the back of one of the conference table chairs, with several dozen others.
He just smiled. “You’re getting pretty good at this. Ever consider a job at an amusement park?”
“If we don’t hit our targets, I might be looking for one,” she said without thinking.
He gave her a sharp glance. “Your father would fire his own daughter?”
She shook her head. “Just joking.” It was an idiotic thing to say. The last thing she needed to do was show any sign of weakness. “You find yourself doing this kind of thing often?”
“Among a few thousand other things,” he said, watching her far too intently. “One thing I don’t find myself doing very often is yawning.” The tank hissed as he filled another balloon. “I might wind up doing some odd things but time never drags. It’s never predictable.”
“And you don’t like predictable?”
He handed her another balloon. “I grew up with predictable.”
“Where was that?”
“On a farm.”
Hadley gave him a long, slow survey, from his cordovan leather shoes to his silk tie. “What did you grow, Armani?”
“Maple syrup. In Armani.”
“Seriously?” She tied on the cord. “You really were a farm boy?”
“You bet.” He inflated the last balloon. “Fifty acres outside of Montpelier. Sugar maples as far as the eye can see.”
It was about as far from her world as anything she could imagine. “How on earth did you wind up in the hotel business?”
“I was on a Cub Scout trip to the cog railway. The driver got lost and we wound up driving by the hotel.”
“It made an impression, I take it.”
“When you’ve just spent half your summer hacking down underbrush in the maples, yeah, a white castle on a hill makes an impression.” He unfastened the strings of a dozen balloons from a chair back and twisted the cords together, then wrapped them around one of Hadley’s hands. “Hold on tight,” he murmured, closing her fingers. “Anyway, I was already pretty confident that farming wasn’t for me, but when I saw the hotel and the golf courses and people horseback riding, I started thinking about a different kind of life.”
Hadley held out her hand to take the next bunch of balloons. “What did your parents say?”
“I didn’t exactly come home and tell them that day.”
“But you said you caddied summers for a while.”
He nodded. “It wasn’t the most popular thing I could have done. I sold it to them as being a good way for me to mature.”
“So basically you’re telling me you were an operator.”
“That’s a harsh word.” He caught another bunch of balloons and wrapped them around his own hand. “It was a good experience. I stayed in the bunkhouse with the other summer help.”
“And didn’t have any fun or get into any trouble at all,” she said dryly, watching him collect another bunch.
“Nothing I got caught for,” he told her. “Anyway, it made me into a hell of a bunkhouse supervisor. I know the things they’re going to do before they do. And it opened some doors.”
“With Whit.” Five balloons remained tied to the chair. She could get them, she figured, working them with her fingers while she held on to the others.
“With a lot of people. Just by listening, I learned more about business over a couple of summers than I’d ever have learned otherwise. I learned more about the hotel. And one of the things I learned is to that you don’t want to do that,” he said suddenly as he saw what she was doing.
“What’s wrong with—damn,” she said as a red balloon slipped loose and drifted up to the ceiling.
Gabe winced. “Did I ever tell you about our smoke detection system?” he asked conversationally. “It works on an electronic eye. You block the eye and it triggers the alarm.”
“Triggers the alarm?” Hadley repeated faintly.
“Uh-huh.”
“Where’s the eye?” she asked with a sinking heart.
He pointed to the matchbook-size box on the ceiling, near where the balloon bobbed. “There.”
And out in the hall the fire alarm Klaxon began to whoop.
Chapter Seven
Flakes of snow drifted down from the morning sky, dotting the windshield of Gabe’s Explorer as he drove toward the ski resort.
“So do you think we’re ever going to get any more business from the Montpelier Ladies’ Auxiliary?” Hadley asked, thinking of the previous day’s debacle. It was one thing to have an alarm sound for a few minutes. It was another to have the whole Crawford Notch Fire Department come storming in.
“You might be surprised. I don’t know how thrilled the parents were but the kids loved it. They’re never going to forget climbing all over the fire truck.”
“You’re letting me off easy.”
“No, I’ll extract payment one of these days.”
His tone was light but there was something in the quick glance he tossed at her that brought the butterflies back. In force. Hadley swallowed. “You don’t have to be that careful about your revenue targets.”
“Sure I do. A favor saved is a favor earned.”
And some kinds of favors were too dangerous to contemplate. She coughed. “Wow, look at all those open parking spaces, huh?”
Gabe’s teeth gleamed. “Actually, that’s the point. What is it, half-full? A third? It’s a Thursday morning. We got two inches of powder overnight. They should be packed. Of course, they should also have twice as much parking capacity, but that’s another conversation.” He turned into an empty spot and switched off the engine. “If we could close on this sale by the end of January, say, we’d have time to plan a rework and get the construction done by the start of the next ski season.”
“First we have to decide whether or not to even make the buy,” she reminded him. “You might be able to turn the ski area around, but I’m not convinced that will help the hotel.”
“You saw the numbers.”
“On the ski area. On the hotel, they’re speculative. After all, the ski area’s available to guests now.” Scooping up her leather-bound notepad, Hadley stepped out into ankle deep snow.
“Such as it is. If we can fix it up, we’ll be able to offer better packages, tied into the hotel’s theme weekends. And we’ll have a serious draw for winter occupancy.” He rounded the corner of the vehicle and met her at the back. “Romance is our bread and butter, but the corporate business is growing. Right now, we have seventy or eighty percent occupancy on the weekends and only ten or twenty most weeknights. If we could get one good-size company conference or offsite meeting a week, we’d push those numbers way up.”
“And you think skiing will do it?”
“Sure. Now we’re offering a resort destination. They can ski in the mornings and have meetings in the afternoons. They can get work done and still make the employees or clients feel like they’re getting a treat. Everyone’s happy.”
“You seem awfully con—” Hadley gave a yelp of alarm as her feet shot out from under her. Snaking out a quick hand, Gabe caught her inches before she hit the snow. She righted herself, cheeks burning. “Sorry. I slipped,” she said unnecessarily.
He stared at her feet. “I’m not surprised, in those things. What in the hell are you wearing?”
She frowned at the ankle boots she’d paired with her narrow-legged trouser suit. “Boots.”
“Boots?” he echoed in disbelief. “Pointy toes and high heels?” He reached d
own and raised one of her feet to inspect it, as though she were a show pony. “Don’t you have anything designed for snow? Your feet have to be freezing.”
They were but she wasn’t about to admit it. “They’re what I wear at home,” she retorted.
“I’ll refrain from pointing out the obvious. Come on.” He took her arm impatiently.
“Where are we going?” All of her attention immediately focused on the pressure of his fingers.
“You’re going to need some real boots before we do anything. Those things have about as much tread as a pair of bowling shoes.”
“I wasn’t planning to take cross-country hikes when I came here.” Unobtrusively, she tried to tug her arm loose. The gap, that critical, sanity-preserving gap, had been breached. “I feel like I’m being marched to my room by my father,” she complained, though that wasn’t entirely true. Being touched by her father had never felt like this.
“Fine, you grab my arm, but hold on somehow or you’ll pancake again. There’s ice under that powder.”
It was cozy—alarmingly cozy—to walk with her arm tucked through his, flurries of snow drifting down around them. Christmas garlands hung from the powder-dusted trees. The bright parkas and pants of the skiers looked like holiday decorations themselves. She and Gabe were working, she reminded herself, but it didn’t feel like it. For a moment, they were just a woman and a man, walking through a winterscape together.
A family passed them. One of the sons jostled Hadley, his ski poles coming perilously close to her face. One minute she was ducking, falling toward Gable.
And the next he’d caught her against him.
For an instant, neither of them moved. Just for an instant, she couldn’t. A fraction of an inch, just a fraction of an inch and his mouth would be on hers. His breath feathered warm over her lips. She felt his shoulders hard and solid under her fingers. But it was his eyes that riveted her, arrowing through her with a connection she couldn’t evade.
The seconds seemed to stretch out like warm taffy. So easy, it would be so easy to lean just a bit closer, to taste him, to see if his kiss was all that it promised to be. So easy…
“Got your footing?” Gabe released her and bent down to retrieve her pad. He looked at her, his face scrupulously clean of expression. “You dropped this.”
“Uh yeah, sure, fine, thanks,” she babbled, hardly aware of what she was saying. It was frightening how quickly every thought had gone out of her head but him. “The path’s just over here. I’ll be fine.” Tucking her hands protectively in her pockets, Hadley took the last dozen steps on her own.
She’d simply let her guard down, that was all. It wasn’t going to happen again. The stakes were too high. The last thing she needed to do was get caught up in Gabe Trask—she could just imagine what Robert would have to say about that.
Hadley dusted the snow off the leather cover of her pad and opened it. First improvement, paths and parking area. No more slipping.
Of any kind.
The narrow path led toward the slopes and the lift. To one side lay the ski center, first stop. The faux-chalet design was a bit unfortunate, but she doubted people made their decisions about where to ski based on the architecture—or lack thereof. It was what was inside and on the slopes that counted.
Unfortunately, what was inside was no better, she saw as Gabe opened the door for her.
It was warm, she’d give it that. It had probably been the height of hip back when it was built. Unfortunately, a good thirty years had passed, by the looks of things. Now, it merely looked shabby, crowded and outdated, an impression that wasn’t helped even a little by the harsh fluorescent lighting overhead. The line to buy lift tickets straggled across the room, intersecting the queue from the ski rental counter.
And all Hadley wanted to do was get back outside. A fairly common response, she was betting. “They haven’t even tried to make this place a draw. They should have a window to buy lift tickets outside. Is there any way for people to even to have some food and something to drink after skiing?”
Gabe pointed without a word to a cramped lounge.
Hadley looked around, shaking her head helplessly. “I don’t see how you could fix this place up enough to make it worthwhile. It might almost be better to do a complete knockdown. How do they stay in business like this?”
“They seem to be of the philosophy that to increase profit you cut costs. Sound familiar?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Stick to the point, Trask.”
“That is the point.”
“No, the point is the building. Knock it down or fix it up? We’re talking an order of magnitude in cost.”
“I’m not sure,” he answered thoughtfully. “This ought to be a place people want to come. Think about it—you ski all day and you want to wind down before the drive home. A little music, maybe a brandy Alexander or a cold beer, a cozy nook in front of the fire to hide away with your date. We could bring in twenty or thirty bucks a head easy in just appetizers and drinks.”
“That’s some hungry people.”
“That’s based on the restaurant and bar charges at the Mount Jefferson. Remember, breakfast and dinner are included with the room. Most people still drop upward of thirty bucks any given day.”
“You track it that closely?”
“I know what goes on on my watch,” he said. “As far as this place goes, we could take it a step further. You have races, you’ve got fewer people skiing and more people eating and drinking. For the skiers, put in a better pro and service shop. They probably pay their way even now. The clothing store might even make a small profit. In fact—” he led her over “—they’re about to make some money right now.”
Inside, he stopped in front of the shelf of boots.
Hadley looked from Gabe to the row of boots and back again. “Don’t tell me you were serious out there.”
“Don’t tell me you think you’re going to walk around the rest of this property in those shoes. You leave this place without decent boots and you’re on your own.”
Hadley’s lips tightened mutinously.
“Be a shame to see you start to go ass over teakettle again,” Gabe observed. “One of these times I’m not going to catch you.”
“Can I help you?” The salesman appeared at her elbow.
Gabe merely folded his arms over his chest. “Your call.”
She’d give him his due, he didn’t gloat, and the new boots allowed her to keep her distance. That was important. Robert constantly harped on the need to separate emotions from business, ranting about company officials who couldn’t keep their hands off their colleagues or their subordinates. And even if Gabe Trask weren’t answerable to her, he was an indiscretion she couldn’t afford, not when she was trying to redeem herself in Robert’s eyes. Relationships, especially in the work-place, were not worth it.
But it had felt so good to walk with her arm tucked in his.
Hadley moved her head to ward the thought away. “So talk to me about the ski operation.”
They stood near the lift, watching the endless line of green chairs going by, only every third or fourth one occupied. “It’s like the ski center, outdated, undermaintained.” Gabe pointed to the map of the mountain that sat by the side of the lift line. “Look at the layout. You could fit three or four more runs on the parcel without even remotely crowding the existing plan. We’d need a higher capacity lift, but this one’s barely holding on as it is. Listen to it.”
The lift groaned each time it brought a chair around. She could see the streaks of rust on the superstructure. “So how do you go about designing new runs?” she asked. “I mean, it’s like designing a golf course or something, isn’t it? You need an expert.”
“Someone who knows the sport inside and out.” Time to play his trump card, Gabe decided. “I went to high school with J. J. Cooper.”
“J. J. Cooper?”
“You know, the guy who took the gold in downhill last Olympics?”
She gave a mystified
head shake. “I don’t follow sports.”
“Careful giving that kind of reaction in a bar around here.” Gabe grinned. “J.J.’s a native son. Eastmont, Vermont, but he’s been adopted by all of New England. If we could get him as ski director, it would be huge.”
“He’d design the new runs?”
“He’d do lots of things. Design the runs, approve the equipment we carry, help choose the lift, plan ski races. It would be a major draw up here. Think about it, Crawford Notch Ski Resort. J. J. Cooper, Director of Skiing. Like having Tiger Woods as your golf pro and course designer.”
Gabe could see the idea take hold of her. “That could put a whole different spin on things,” she admitted.
“Makes all those numbers we talked about this morning look a little more solid, huh?”
“Don’t get carried away. Do you really think he’d do it?”
“Can’t hurt to ask,” Gabe replied. “It helps that I know where the bodies are buried.”
“Blackmail?” Her smile bloomed.
And a class A smile it was, he thought in appreciation. “If necessary. We were pretty much inseparable in high school. J.J. still spends his summers here. It’s harder to get him during the season, but I can track him down if I need to. Want me to give him a call, see if we can set up a meet over Christmas?”
“If you can.” Robert wasn’t going to like this one bit, she thought. Then again, he was always telling her the best managers weren’t afraid to take risks.
A pair of what looked like college students passed them, talking animatedly. The boy lost his balance and tumbled into the snow. The girl leaned over to offer him a hand and he pulled her down, squealing, for a kiss.
Gabe turned speculative eyes on Hadley. “I don’t know, maybe I should keep you away from J.J. He has this mind-control thing going on with women. One look and that’s that.”
Under The Mistletoe (Holiday Hearts #2) Page 8