Spelled out in black and white were terms even he could understand. Ed had let Connor know exactly why he'd lost his business the first time and was challenging Connor now. Was I wrong? His tone asked. Are you a family man? Prove it.
Connor swallowed. This was his opening to steer the conversation towards what McClellan Technology Group could do for Ventura. His opportunity to set himself apart from the other tech companies vying for Ed's business. All he had to do was prove that his family was a priority for him too.
Only how in the world could he do that without Rosalie?
His mother had never explicitly stated it, but Connor was a smart perceptive kid, or so he liked to think. He saw the hurt in his mother’s eyes every time he mentioned how his friends at school spent the summer at their uncle’s cabin, or how their grandparents paid for the whole extended family to go to Disneyland. She didn’t teach him to be skeptical of those bonds in words, but her actions, and the way she’d snort at the idea of huge Thanksgiving dinners, taught him all he needed to know. Even connecting with his cousins, Arthur and Vane, after his grandfather passed never turned on the precious family memories gene in his DNA.
His relationship with his mother was less that of mother and son and more like coach and athlete. Natalie McClellan had something to show, and Connor was her living proof. He could still remember yawning in the front seat of their beat-up station wagon as she drove him from lesson to lesson. “Drink this,” his mother had urged her ten- year- old, pushing a cup of cold coffee into his hands. “And pay attention to your teacher.”
He’d paid attention as best he could. As much as stubbornness and an early addiction to caffeine could allow. But by twelve, he’d reached his breaking point.
His mother always stayed up with him to help finish his school projects. But the year he went into eighth grade, she’d started a new job and her laser-like focus on his achievements lessened. Seeing his opportunity, Connor conveniently forgot to tell her about the project he needed to complete to win the “Young Scientists Scholarship” to the prestigious high school she’d had her eye on.
Most regular mothers would have yelled. Connor knew that now. But his mother said nothing about him failing out of the program she’d sold her old car to get him into. She just hauled him onto the bus with her and took him grocery shopping.
“Really?” Connor could remember asking excitedly as she packed the cart with all the expensive, brand name snack foods he was usually not allowed to want. “We’re buying this?”
“Keep going,” his mother had urged him, so he’d happily pulled all the processed food of his dreams from the shelves and piled it high into the cart. Then he’s waited for his mother to push it to the checkout.
Instead she left it there and walked away.
“What are you doing?” he yelled, running after her.
She stopped in the entryway. He’d never forget the way she looked at him as she spoke clearly and evenly, each word landing harder than a punch to the gut. “All those expensive things that you want don’t cost half of what I spent to get you into that program. I know you could have won that scholarship, and you do too. And you threw it away. You left all that money sitting there, just like I’m doing now.” She narrowed her eyes and spoke the words that had echoed in Connor’s brain to this day. “When you fail, you throw it all away. When you lose your focus, Connor, you lose everything.”
"Do you see your kids a lot?"
Connor snapped back to the present to find that Rosalie had stepped in to fill the silence, which had stretched out uncomfortably long. "Are they excited about their new brother or sister?"
Ed nodded. "Dora's been wonderful. Never pushed them too hard." He smiled fondly at his tiny wife and handed her another pita. "And because of that, they are comfortable around her. My oldest, Rachel, has already put together a PowerPoint presentation on why she should be allowed to babysit, and exactly what rates she thinks are appropriate." Ed chuckled. "I told her most thirteen year olds aren't pulling in twenty dollar an hour rates yet."
"But for a nanny, that's pretty reasonable," Dora piped up. "And I would trust Rachel more than a stranger." She turned to Rosalie. "I have three younger siblings too, all unmarried. My little sister Felipa is fourteen. Luckily, she and Rachel get along. Otherwise I think there would be a showdown over babysitting duties."
"Wow, big family." Rosalie nodded in understanding, but when she glanced at Connor, he didn't add anything else. "You know, Connor and his mother are super close."
Ed's raised his eyebrows. "Really? You take care of your mama?"
Connor shot Rosalie a grateful look. "Of course. It was just her and me growing up. We're a team. I owe everything I have to her."
"And Connor is close to his cousins, too." Rosalie added. "Right, Connor?"
"I don't know." Connor smiled, warming up to the topic. "Is it closeness when you want to get their opinion on something only to tell them how wrong they are?" Ed guffawed appreciatively. "Yeah, we're much more like brothers in that regard, I think."
This time, he didn't resist the urge to place his palm on the small of Rosalie's back. "I didn't realize you paid such close attention to my cousins," he teased into her ear, treating himself to a whiff of her lilac-scented hair.
Her eyes sparkled. "I figured I better, in case you forget their names."
He laughed, happiness spreading through him. He didn't remember mentioning his cousins Arthur and Vane, so the fact that Rosalie knew how much he valued his relationships with them made him feel warm all over.
Hot, even.
He brushed her hair away from her ear. "How are you feeling?" He gently guided her to her seat. "More ginger ale?"
She smiled, nodding. Connor signaled to the staff to bring out fresh drinks as they took their seats for the main course. "I think Rosalie sent the menu ahead of time"—he double-checked with Rosalie—"but if anything doesn't look appealing, Dora, please let me know and I'll have the chef make something more to your liking."
Ed nodded thoughtfully, and the air in the room shifted. Connor met Ed's appraising gaze, waiting. The older man leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers on top of his head, nodding as if working out a puzzle sight unseen.
"I have to say, McClellan, I didn't have high hopes for this weekend." Connor forced himself to keep his expression neutral. "Don't get me wrong; I appreciate the gumption you showed in calling me up. That took some balls. Big brass ones—"
"Ed," Dora chided.
"My apologies, dear. Can't take me anywhere, can you?" He laughed and rubbed his hands together as the staff placed their entrees in front of them. "Good thing I have you around."
"Napkin in your lap," Dora reminded her husband. "Or you'll get it all over yourself."
Ed clearly loved being nagged, Connor noted. He deferred to his wife in every way, depending on her to remind him about everything.
You depend on Rosalie the same way. Connor rested his hand on Rosalie's thigh under the table, taking a moment to appreciate the delicate pink flush that crept up her cheeks. "It didn't take courage”—he glanced at Dora, who nodded her thanks at his language—"at all, Ed. I know that McClellan can help you revolutionize your operating systems. I don't just want your business. I honestly think we can be the driver that helps you expand Ventura's reach."
Connor was just warming up to his full sales pitch when Ed held up his hand.
"Here's the thing though. All this talk of revolution and expansion—see, right there is where you lose me. I'm a simple man. Ventura was my daddy's business and I gotta honor that. There's nothing wrong with the old ways of doing things. Hell, they served my daddy well, and they've made me filthy rich."
He chuckled at his own joke. "If you ask me, all this newfangled tech, well, it seems like a whole lot of noise if I'm honest. A way for slick tech-geeks with messy hair"—Connor resisted the urge to comb his fingers through his own thick mop—“to dazzle you with words and take all your money."
Con
nor felt Rosalie's eyes on him. She saw what this was, just as much he did. A challenge.
And Connor never backed down from a challenge. "Well Ed, I appreciate you laying it out like that, because now I know what needs to happen." He waited for Ed to take the bait.
"What needs to happen, McClellan?"
Connor set his fork down and went for the kill. "I was hoping that over the course of this dinner I could give you my usual talk about all the ways our technology can change your life."
"I like my life just fine." The older man sniffed.
"I get that. Which is why I'm proposing I just shut up now."
Just like he’d hoped, Ed's eyebrows zoomed upward. "That's it then? You're giving up?"
"Oh, no. I don't give up, Rosalie can tell you that." He squeezed her thigh, and she gasped under her breath. "But I'm going to give you a chance to see our software in action." He gazed at Rosalie, seeing the wheels already turning in her head as she laid out the steps to put his proposal into action. "We'll run a simulation, right here. Show you side by side, your system versus ours, so you can see for yourself which one’s better."
Ed looked at Dora, who inclined her head. He laughed. "That sounds fair."
"Yeah?" Connor hardly believed the gamble had worked.
"With one condition."
"Name it."
"This simulation? Happens after we hit the slopes."
Connor opened his mouth to object. He wanted this win, and he wanted it now.
Only Rosalie leaned in and smoothly cut him off. "Absolutely. You're in Aspen for a reason, right?" She shot Connor a look. "We could all use some fun. There's plenty of time for work later."
7
The sky blazed a bright blue. Overnight, six inches of powder had fallen and now lay glittering in the brilliant sunlight, coating the world in diamond dust.
Rosalie eagerly snapped her boots into their bindings. The first early morning run through fresh powder was always the best. She yearned to take the lift all the way up, her lungs itching for the thin, alpine air and the rush of double-diamond slopes.
When Connor swore under his breath, she laughed, all thoughts of a challenging run fleeing as he tugged futilely at his bindings. "Need some help?"
"I got it," Connor hissed.
"I'll take some help, if you're offering." Ed Coney called out cheerfully from across the lodge. He waved helplessly at his boots. "I've done cross country before, but I'm not too proud to admit I'm at a loss."
"No problem." Rosalie directed him on how to tighten his boots to best keep his ankles stable before helping Dora find poles tiny enough for her diminutive frame. When she finished, Connor looked triumphant—and distractingly hot. His unruly hair was still rumpled from sleep, his eyes bleary with the same confusion that she remembered from the morning after their night together.
Rosalie tried jerking her thoughts back to the client and job at hand, but they skipped around her good intentions, noting how Connor’s close-fitting ski apparel highlighted every sculpted line of his body.
Rosalie's mouth dried. God bless the man who invented ski-leggings.
Connor saw where her eyes had fallen and winked. Her face heated. "Ready for a few practice runs?" she asked, her voice way too bright.
She tried to hold her head high as they stepped out into the cold air, but Connor chuckled behind her the whole way to the lift.
He wanted to head to the black diamond runs first, but Rosalie insisted on starting with the bunny slopes. "We're trying to win over the clients, Connor, not kill them," she muttered to him.
Blaming the change on the client seemed to assuage Connor's pride enough for him to comply. Which was good, because as they took their first run down, Rosalie saw that Connor was not ready.
Not by a long shot.
Just like with everything else, Connor threw himself into skiing with a single-minded focus that bordered on frightening. She watched—half impressed, half horrified—as he barreled down the slopes full speed, his weight flung too far forward, as if he didn't trust gravity to do the job. Ed, on the other hand, took to the slopes with all the speed of a turtle trapped in molasses. As Dora shouted encouragement, her husband inched his way down the hill, frequently breaking to make minute adjustments in his trajectory. When he finally reached the bottom, he was pale as a ghost.
Dora took him by the elbow. "Ed, there's a sledding hill over there. Rachel and June are always hogging the sled when they come by; when was the last time you got a turn?"
Ed's eyes lit up at his wife. "Damn kids always get to have all the fun," he grumbled good-naturedly. "You're right; it's our turn."
"Want us to come?" Rosalie gestured towards Connor who looked like a human snowball as he hurtled down the slope, sending powder into the air.
"And ruin his fun?" Ed laughed. "Your man already thinks I'm an old stick-in-the-mud. We don't need to remind him he's right." Ed leaned in. "Though you might want to remind him he's not invincible."
Rosalie pressed her lips together. "I think you're right."
The Coneys waved goodbye as Connor shot past, coming alarmingly close to crashing into the lodge. He planted his poles at the last second, halting his progress with such exertion that his face reddened, his muscles popping appealingly through his snow-gear.
Rosalie hoped it was the hormones that had her feeling so faint. "Hey there, Cannonball." She skied to his side. "Don't you think you might want to slow down a bit?"
He lifted his helmet, his hair even more rumpled than before. Rosalie itched to run her fingers through it. "Why? Am I making you feel bad?"
"Excuse me?"
His eyes twinkled. "You grew up here, but I'm clearly a much better skier than you are."
"In your dreams."
"Wanna put your money where your mouth is?"
"Where do you think my mouth is?" When his eyes went wide at her innuendo, she forced herself not to blush. Two could play the double entendre game. "You've got speed, but you lack finesse."
"That wasn't what you were saying six weeks ago." He arched an eyebrow. "And may I remind you that you had no complaints about my speed then, either."
"You let me finish first then too." She wet her lips before jamming her helmet on her head. "Are you going to let me finish first again?
"Baby, I promise to always make sure you finish first." He put on his helmet with a wink. "Except when it comes to skiing."
"It's a race then?"
"Ready set go, baby."
Rosalie hid how pleased she was that he called her baby by turning sharply to the lift. Aware of his eyes on her body, she threw more hip action than necessary into her moves.
"You're trying to distract me," Connor complained from behind.
"All's fair in love and downhill racing."
He laughed as he caught up to her, and they settled next to each other on the lift. She was acutely aware of his warmth, sharp against the cold, snow-tinged air. She was even more aware of how strange Connor choosing to be with her was.
Usually, his full focus was on the client. She was hiding it well—she hoped—but inside she was stunned that Connor had neither asked where the Coneys were nor had he chosen earlier to follow them to the sledding hill, hell-bent on wearing them down with his charm.
He'd chosen her.
As for his charm? Well, it was wearing her down instead.
He teased her the whole way up to the black diamond trails, telling her jokes, making her laugh. After inquiring gently about how she was feeling, he laughed and claimed her delicate condition would make her super easy to beat in a race.
By the time they reached the top, Rosalie was feeling dizzy from more than the thin alpine air.
"So … " Connor swished beside her to the top of the run. "How does this work? First one to the bottom or do you need to go over the bumpy things to actually count?"
Rosalie snorted. "Okay, well first, the 'bumpy things' are called moguls, and yes, you're supposed to hit them. That's the whole point."
"Of course."
"You do know how to ski, right, Connor?"
"You saw me."
She'd seen him, all right. Out of nowhere, the urge to protect him from himself filled her. "We don't have to do this," she protested.
Her knees went weak when Connor flashed her that smile. "Go on, baby. I'll let you have a head start."
She blamed him calling her baby. He had thrown her off kilter with the pet name, giving her a bad start down the first run. She whiffed the landing off the first mogul and nearly overbalanced into the scraggly pines lining the slope. When she paused to right herself, she admitted forfeit to Connor, peering down the slope with the expectation his jet black form would be halfway down the mountain by now.
Only he was nowhere to be seen.
She scanned back up the slope—
And found Connor. Flat on his ass.
"I'm fine!" He was struggling to his feet. He planted his pole, heaved himself upward.
His right leg shot out, and he toppled backwards again. As his enthusiastic curses wafted on the light breeze, she giggled.
"You sure about that?"
"I like tech moguls! Not ski moguls!"
"They don't seem to like you either." She carefully picked her way between the scattered skiers to reach his side. "And I'm not as in shape as I used to be."
"Let’s skip all the moguls?" Connor flung his arm over her shoulder, using her to steady himself atop his skis.
Awareness jolted through her body as he pressed closer. She froze as a slow, steady throb began in her core. When she looked up at him, Connor's head was backlit, his smile in shadow, but she heard the warmth in his voice. "Thanks, baby."
She tilted her head nearer, her lips seeking his.
He pushed off. "Time out's over!"
"Oh you—" Jamming her poles in, she bent low, quickly overtaking him. Frustration sharpened her focus, her dormant racing skills springing awake. Her mind shut off as her body remembered how to negotiate the moguls, returning to the constant shift of rhythm and balance that had been second nature to her.
She'd been the best Nordic skier on the juvenile circuit. Natural talent honed by hours on the slopes had meant that by the time she was nine years old, she was light years better than even the oldest kids on her team. She'd been so proud of her star status.
McClellan Billionaires: The Complete Series Page 5