Gold Fire

by Starr Ambrose

  She wished he’d stop looking at her hair. She’d deliberately pulled it back and up to make it less noticeable. Strawberry blond was a distracting color. Frivolous. She never wanted to be taken for frivolous again.

  “The shirt and the three million are not the whole deal. I believe the Alpine Sky can offer you something that might change your mind.”

  His look of secret amusement disappeared. “Really?” he asked in a flat, dry tone.

  His direct gaze was more unsettling than she’d expected. She swallowed and pushed on. “You’re a skier.”

  She had the impression walls had suddenly gone up between them. “Around here that’s hardly unusual,” he told her. Even his voice was guarded.

  “An Olympic skier. A gold medal winner. That’s beyond the usual, even in this town.”

  Lines appeared around his mouth now, and he clenched his jaw. “That was a long time ago.”

  “You were famous. Respected.”

  “Fame is fleeting.”

  “No, Mr. Garrett, it isn’t. Not that kind of fame. An Olympic medal is highly regarded by every skier I know. You have four.” He kept his stony gaze on her, saying nothing. “Do you still ski?”

  “I don’t compete.” The words were harsh and clipped.

  “The knowledge doesn’t go away. Have you ever thought of doing something with that experience, Mr. Garrett? Sharing it with talented young skiers who may have achieved some measure of success but strive for more?”

  His brow lowered over his eyes. “Just say what you came to say, Miss Larkin.”

  “The Alpine Sky is willing to offer you that opportunity. A position as a ski instructor.” She felt confident Ruth Ann would go along with the plan. Anything to get Jase Garrett to sell.

  He pushed the shirt back into her hands. “I don’t want to be your ski pro. Good-bye.”

  “Not our ski pro,” she said, ignoring the shirt and letting it fall between them. “We already have one. I’m talking about a position above that level. You would only instruct advanced students, young athletes who come to sharpen their skills and get pointers from the best in their field. Athletes who have a passion for the sport equal to your own.”

  She watched him closely. Anyone who made it to the Olympic level in his sport had to have an enormous amount of drive and determination. That might not show when it came to running a saloon, but it had to be there still. Sure enough, interest flickered deep in his eyes, and she went after it. “You could select the students yourself. Handpicked, top-rated skiers. You would have full control of the program, and I promise the salary would be generous.”

  She held her breath. His piercing glare softened and something wavered behind it, temptation edging its way through that hard shell. For a moment she was sure she had him.

  Then it was gone. The shutters were back in place as his mouth pressed into a firm line. “No.”

  Again with the flat no. It couldn’t be that quick, that absolute. Not after the way he’d hesitated—she hadn’t imagined that. “What do you mean, no?”

  “No, thank you. Nein, non, nyet. See ya around.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  He gave her a look of disbelief. “Do you always have to know why? You must have been one of those kids who drive their mothers crazy, asking why all the time.”

  “I was, so you might as well answer or I’ll have to keep asking. How can I convince you to sell if I don’t know what you want?”

  He leaned forward and she didn’t dare back off, even though he was so close she smelled the spicy fragrance of his soap. So close she could have counted the individual eyelashes that lowered, narrowing his gaze to a tight beam. Uncomfortably close, and unnervingly male. “Listen carefully, Miss Larkin,” he rumbled, and she imagined she could feel the vibration of his words in the air. “You can’t.”

  She blinked and gathered her thoughts. He was wrong. He had to be. What she couldn’t do was take no for an answer. Her job and her future depended on closing this deal and proving her value to the company. If she blew it, David would see that she never got another chance.

  Begging wasn’t in her nature. Fighting for what she wanted was, and she was just exasperated enough to challenge him. “Tell me one thing. How does an Olympic medalist lose all desire to achieve anything? Are you telling me sitting around day after day in a rundown honky-tonk is a fulfilling life?”

  Silence hung between them as he stared at her. Damn! She’d crossed a line, but it was too late to take it back even if she’d wanted to. Beneath his scowl, Jase’s face was tight and dark. “That’s right, you’ve nailed it. I’m a washed-up loser and this is all I want from life, so you can’t tempt me.”

  Heat rose in her cheeks. “I didn’t mean . . .” To speak the truth? To piss you off? Well, hell.

  She sighed and got to her feet, facing him. “Yes, I did mean it. I’m not going to pretend I didn’t. You were a competitor, Jase.” His first name just slipped out. She’d wanted to keep it strictly professional, but what the hell, this was about to get personal. “You had ambition, the kind that won’t let you quit. And talent, more than anyone else in your field. It’s not in you to quit. And believe it or not, I understand that kind of drive. I don’t have any Olympic medals to prove it, but I know what it means to try your best, and when that’s not enough, to dig down deep and try even harder.”

  He still watched her closely, but the anger had left his face. He nodded. “I believe you do know.”

  “You do?” Agreeing with her had been the last thing she’d expected.

  “I’ve lived in Barringer’s Pass for ten years, and I skied here for years before that. There aren’t many secrets in a small town, Zoe Larkin.”

  The tiny pause before her name gave it all the impact it needed to remind her that the two older Larkin sisters had a reputation in this town, one Zoe was beginning to think they might never live down. “You recognized my name,” she said, her voice strained despite her carefully blank face.

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

  “What you heard . . . it hasn’t been true for a long time.”

  “You mean you’re not the person you were ten years ago.”

  She squinted her eyes at him. Clever. She got the comparison, but it wasn’t the same thing. “I’m not the same person, but I have the same determination. I might have put a lot of energy into raising hell years ago, but I put even more into changing people’s perception of me. Ten years ago I was good at being bad. Now I’m good at being capable and responsible. It’s just a matter of what I’ve tried to achieve.” She held her chin up and didn’t care if she looked defensive. “What have you managed to achieve during the past ten years?”

  “Anonymity,” he growled. “And you’re trying to ruin it.” He stood, obviously a signal that they were done talking.

  For a moment she was done thinking, too. Seated, Jase’s athletic body had a lazy sort of grace that made it easy to understand why that young woman had been interested in him. Standing in front of her, his effect was strangely multiplied. She blinked, unable to grasp a single thought as she noticed the way his T-shirt stretched over well-defined chest muscles, and the strength in his biceps as he crossed his arms. She sucked her lower lip between her teeth as she raised her gaze to his, trying to ignore the strange flutter in her stomach. What had she been saying?

  He didn’t give her a clue, just stared at her with a funny look on his face, probably wondering if she was altogether sane. She wondered the same thing. Men never shook her control, not years ago when she had used them to rebel, and not now when she kept them at a safe emotional distance. Who was this Jase Garrett . . . Oh, that was what they’d been talking about.

  “Why do you want to be anonymous?” She ignored the sardonic lift of his eyebrow at another why. “Who wouldn’t want people to remember an accomplishment like winning an Olympic medal? Most people probably wouldn’t shut up about it, and you want to hide from it?”

  She wished she could read his
hooded gaze. “Do you remind people about your past, Zoe Larkin?”

  She felt heat rise to her cheeks, and was glad he’d had the decency to keep his voice low enough that no one else heard. Between gritted teeth, she hissed, “It’s not the same. I’m not proud of it.”

  “Then maybe we’re more similar than you know.” Before she could figure that out, he added, “I don’t see how this has anything to do with your company’s offer to buy the Rusty Wire.”

  It didn’t. She was just curious about him, damn it. The fact that she shouldn’t be irritated her even more.

  She thrust the shirt back at him. “Here, keep it. Think about the offer.” The Alpine Sky shirt might remind him of the offer to coach top skiers, the only thing she’d said so far that had tweaked his interest. She turned to leave.

  “Wait a minute.” He grabbed her arm. She stopped, far too aware of his hand on her blazer as he stepped around to face her. She tried not to wonder what it would feel like to have his hand on her bare skin.

  Below his furrowed brow, his eyes searched hers. “My turn to ask why. Why are you so determined to get me to sell?”

  “I told you, the Alpine Sky needs your land if it’s going to have a golf course.”

  “And I told you to kiss that idea good-bye, but you won’t, and I want to know why it bothers you so much.” She started to deny it, but he cocked his head in a warning look.

  She pressed her lips together. “I’m doing my job. Is that a foreign concept to you?”

  He studied her. “And you might lose your job if you don’t get me to sell?”

  “I won’t lose it.” She’d just never advance. Never get out from under David’s thumb.

  “There are other places to work, you know.”

  “Not many. Only two other big resorts in Barringer’s Pass, both fully staffed. I’d have to leave B-Pass.” Something that would never happen, not as long as this town still remembered the Larkin name with disdain. Leaving town might make things easier for her, but it wouldn’t stop the whispers that plagued her two sisters and broke her grandmother’s heart. Only she could do that, by sticking to her plan and proving she was trustworthy and honorable.

  And it was none of Jase Garrett’s business.

  “I can take care of myself, and my job,” Zoe continued. “Unless you’d care to sell out of pity? I can play the victim if you’re one of those types who simply have to rescue damsels in distress.”

  The corner of his lip twitched upward. “Zoe Larkin, assistant manager, playing a damsel in distress? Tempting, but I’m afraid I’m not that type.”

  “I didn’t think so. See you later.” She pushed past him and made her way back through the tables to the door, feeling his eyes on her all the way.

  She’d almost reached the door when an excited laugh on the dance floor drew her attention. The girl was young, with long brown hair that looked just like . . . Zoe gaped. “Sophie?”

  Her sister turned, still caught in the arms of a gorgeous hunk of cowboy. “Zoe!” she laughed with delight. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same.”

  “Are you kidding? I love this place, come here all the time. But I didn’t think it was your style.” Her amused glance took in Zoe’s skirt and blazer as her partner pulled her closer, still swaying to the lively country music. Sophie moved back into the rhythm. “Talk to you after this dance?”

  “I’m leaving.”

  Sophie accepted the news with a shrug. “’K, catch you later.” She wiggled a couple of fingers that peeked above the cowboy’s hand, then laughed as he whirled her away in a fast two-step.

  Zoe blinked. Somehow she hadn’t pictured her doctoral candidate little sister kicking up her heels at a cowboy bar.

  The Rusty Wire was just full of surprises, none of them good. Her cultured, brainy little sister had gone country. The saloon wasn’t operating on the edge of insolvency, like Ruth Ann had thought. Worst of all, its owner was a stubborn jerk with a distracting smile that did funny things to the pit of her stomach and made her wonder what it would be like to get up close and personal with that mouth.

  God, it was warm in here.

  Zoe hurried outside and stood in the relative quiet of the parking lot, inhaling deeply. Jase Garrett had monopolized all her senses and gotten under her skin in a way that made her want to squirm deep inside. It was pathetic. Also highly inappropriate for a business relationship. She flapped the deep V-neck of her blazer, letting the cool night air touch her skin as she pulled out her phone with the other hand and tried to remember where she’d parked.

  • • •

  Jase stood watching the door even after she’d gone. Her offer to buy the Rusty Wire annoyed him, but her persistence worried him. He didn’t need to explain his career choice to anyone, especially some corporate lackey who only wanted to use him to further her own career. Even an admittedly sexy lackey. Zoe Larkin was on the verge of bringing up a part of his past he’d finally stopped reliving every day. He should be glad to see her go. Still, he couldn’t escape the feeling that he’d left something unfinished when she walked away.

  It wasn’t concern for her job—he didn’t give a rat’s ass for the big resorts and their employees. He didn’t know why he’d even asked if his refusal to sell might impact her job. It was just that he’d been caught up in the surprise of her rich brown eyes, which he’d expected to be blue, when he’d noticed the nervous tic beside her left eye. She was more tense than she let on. A little desperate, too, if she thought throwing in a free shirt meant he’d suddenly decide to coach young skiers to Olympic gold.

  “Uncle Jase!”

  He turned to find his niece standing beside him, her long blond hair now pulled into a ponytail and two pool sticks planted beside her, one in each hand. “You promised to teach me how to make the cue ball jump another ball, remember?”

  How could he forget? She’d sat down next to him, batting her big blue eyes the way she’d been doing since she could toddle, begging to learn the trick shots that would undoubtedly turn her into the sharpest pool hustler in the state. His sister would kill him.

  “Sure, Hailey.” It might help take his mind off Zoe Larkin.

  “You gonna do something with that?”

  He followed her gaze to the shirt in his hands. Damn it, he didn’t want the thing. It would only remind him of her offer to disrupt his peaceful life and throw him back into a world he’d deliberately shut out.

  “Give me a minute, honey, I’ll be right back.”

  Suddenly motivated, he wove his way across the dance floor and strode out the door. If he hurried, he could catch her before she drove back up the hill to Camelot.

  He did a quick scan along the front row of cars, then worked his way farther back until he’d almost reached the most distant corner, where employees parked. There. He’d recognize that purposeful stride anywhere. The faint snatch of her voice confirmed it as she said something into her phone, then slipped it into her purse. He trotted across the asphalt, but not too quickly; he saw no reason to interrupt the fluid swing of her hips before he absolutely had to.

  Unfortunately, boots weren’t made for stealth—she heard him coming. He was still twenty feet away when she whipped around, one hand holding her shoulder bag in place while the other clenched into a fist at stomach level, a key poking out between her fingers.

  He slowed and held up his free hand even as she recognized him and lowered her fisted keys. It didn’t improve the sour look she gave him. “Change your mind?”

  “Yeah, you can keep the shirt.” He tossed it at her from three feet away, and she made an awkward catch with the hand holding the keys.

  He thought she’d give him an argument since she always seemed to have one ready, but she simply shook her head in disgust. No words were necessary—her look clearly said he was a jackass.

  He’d planned to be coolly polite, but that look ticked him off. “Wouldn’t want you to have to make another trip back to the slums to retrie
ve it.”

  Real mature. Now he sounded like a jackass even to himself.

  “It was a gift,” she said, her words frosting the air between them. “But God forbid you feel obligated to do something out of character, like say thank you.”

  Every response that came to mind sounded even more infantile than the last, so he clenched his jaw and said nothing. She narrowed her eyes in one final glare, then turned to go.

  He was reaching out to touch her arm with some lame explanation for his attitude when a crash split the night, followed by the sound of shattering glass. Zoe flinched and ducked. Before she could react further, he threw himself forward, wrapping his arms around her and forcing her down, shielding her with his body. More glass exploded, shards rattling against metal as they landed, but not near enough to touch them.

  “Stay here!” he ordered. He took off at a run.

  Chapter

  Three

  He didn’t look to see if she’d obeyed. Racing to the end of the lot where the employees parked, he paused and scanned the vehicles. A group of five cars ended with a little red Chevy that had squeezed in next to the Dumpsters. The sound had come from that direction. No one was around, confirming his fears that someone hadn’t been throwing glass into the metal bins. Whoever had caused the noise had cut and run.

  Cursing under his breath, he walked around the Chevy, checking the taillights, windows, and headlights. The light from the pole beside the Dumpsters bathed the car in yellow, showing that everything was intact. But tiny chips of glass sparkled on the asphalt between the Chevy and the black pickup next to it. Already knowing what he’d find, he walked to the front of the pickup.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  “What happened?” Zoe stood by the back of the truck. Of course; why would she do what he’d told her to do?

  She didn’t wait for his answer, striding between the vehicles to join him. She stared at the shattered glass and plastic of the headlight and the caved-in safety glass of the driver’s window. Most of the spiderwebbed window glass still hung in place, but showed a deep indentation from what he guessed was a baseball bat or golf club.