Impulsively, Skylar opened the middle drawer of her desk and took out the twenty dollar bill that Mark had given her. Holding it in her hand, she recalled how his fingers brushed over hers when he’d handed the money to her, how he’d kept his mesmerizing gaze riveted on her face and how inflamed her body had felt as she made her way back to the lodge.
If only he knew that I can match him dollar for dollar, Skylar thought as she thrust the money inside and slammed the drawer shut. She had no intention of ever spending any of his, or any guest’s, tips for that matter. Her plan was to let the money accumulate until she had enough to make a donation to the local children’s fund. She certainly didn’t need Mark Jorgen’s cash, or his intrusion into the peaceful life she had found at Scenic Ridge.
Late the next afternoon, the familiar brown UPS truck pulled up to the lodge at its regular time and delivered the items that Skylar had ordered the day before. She handed the baby’s bunny suit and the expensive sunscreen to Victor, the easygoing, Brazilian desk clerk, and asked him to deliver the packages to the appropriate guests’ rooms. Then she took Mark’s package into her office, placed it on the corner of her desk and went over to the window.
Looking out, she saw that Mark was returning from the slopes after his last class for the day, walking with a group of young students who were crowded around him, all talking at the same time. When he threw back his head and laughed at something one of them must have said, the late afternoon sunlight touched his face lighting his smooth tan skin. Skylar drew in a soft breath, not surprised to see that one of the girls was gazing at Mark with adoration in her eyes as she trudged along beside him, holding tightly on to her skis.
Skylar could tell that Mark was enjoying the attention, and his self-satisfied expression suddenly infuriated her.
Mark Jorgen is a demanding, picky and impossible man who thrives on the attention of his female students. It’s a wonder he can keep his balance on the slopes, with an ego as large as his, she mused, faking a gag as she turned away from the window and went back to her desk.
After sorting through the rest of the day’s mail and taking care of a near-crisis with a guest who had lost her ski lift tickets, Skylar shut down her computer, prepared to leave her office.
She glanced nervously at the box on her desk—Mark Jorgen, Snow King Suite, Scenic Ridge. She stared at it as if it were a bomb about to explode. Why hadn’t she simply asked Victor to drop it off while he was making his other deliveries? Why was Mark’s fancy de-icing gadget still in her office when she knew he’d said that he needed it right away? Why not ask Kathy, her backup, to take it to Mark?
But no, she couldn’t do that. I’ll take care of this request personally. After all, I’m just doing my job.
The phone was ringing and Mark was outside taking off his heavy boots. “Leave a message,” he commented to himself as he struggled with the snaps on one of his boots. He’d had a rough day and hoped he’d never have another class of twelve year-old girls from Harlem again. He’d take the enamored matrons any day over pubescent adoration.
Finally free of his boots, he entered his cabin and went to his phone, engaged the voice mail, and listened.
“Hello, Mark. Skylar Webster here. Your ice-melting machine arrived today. I’ll bring it up when I get off work.”
A jolt of satisfaction, tinged with anticipation, shot through Mark. She was coming to his cabin again, even though they both knew there was no need for her to drive all the way to the Snow King suite, which she had done with each of his deliveries. He grinned, a mischievous smile that lit his eyes and warmed him inside. He might not be able to get Skylar Webster out of his mind, but he was going to get her into his suite tonight.
“And if I ask her why she decided to personally deliver my de-icing machine, I’ll bet she’ll tell me that she’s just doing her job,” he laughed, turning off the answering machine, more than ready to see her again.
He had been watching Skylar for the past week as she moved around the resort, but had been uneasy about engaging her in a conversation. She seemed so aloof and content to be alone that he knew he had to respect her desire for space until, hopefully, he could make a move.
He had seen her walking alone near the ice skating rink, and then wandering the foothills at the western edge of the property. She always appeared to be in deep thought, as if trying to settle some problem. He had even asked Kathy if Skylar was happy with her job, or upset about something, and Kathy had told him that, as far as she knew, Skylar was very content to be at Scenic Ridge and grateful to her sister for giving her the job.
Mark was fascinated with Skylar, yet he didn’t want to seem pushy or overly friendly by making his interest known too quickly. During their first encounter in the store, he had recognized an inner strength that told him she was a woman in control. She held her ground, spoke her mind, and was serious about her work. He admired her for her strong work ethic as well as the fact that she treated him in a professional manner, but with luck, that would change very soon.
Mark knew he had pushed her buttons yesterday, demanding that she find the German de-icer immediately. And she hadn’t balked, he realized, impressed with her ability to locate the exclusive gadget. She wasn’t a quitter or a whiner—traits that Mark detested. She was natural. Not spoiled. Appreciative and honest. He would love nothing more than to wait on Skylar Webster hand and foot and show her what life with Mark Jorgen could be like. If only she would trust him.
Chapter 11
Mark’s enthusiastic “thank you” made Skylar blush. With a demure nod of her head, she accepted his praise, pleased with herself for passing another one of his childish, and obvious, tests. Who did he think he was fooling? she mused, feeling a ripple of amusement.
“This is miraculous! In one day? I can’t believe you found it,” he gushed as he took the package from her and lifted the small box high.
“I have my sources,” Skylar teased in a pride-filled voice, mentally scoring another point in their unspoken competition.
“Do you have time to come in for a cup of coffee? Hot chocolate? Wine?” Mark offered, cradling the package under one arm.
She shrugged, noncommittal.
“Please?” He stepped aside to let her in, as if she had already accepted his invitation.
Masking a smile, Skylar pressed her lips together and pretended to consider Mark’s offer while her heart thudded under her parka. She looked him up and down, her gaze flitting quickly over his figure. He was dressed in a gorgeous gray and white snowflake sweater, gray corduroy slacks and soft black suede loafers. His longish hair was pulled back and tucked behind his ears and he was wearing a thin silver chain around his neck. In Skylar’s opinion, he looked like one of those male models in GQ magazine—manly, yet stylish, powerful, but not overbearing and fully aware of how handsome he was.
“Uh…I don’t know,” she hesitated, deliberately taking her time in responding, enjoying the look of disappointment that flashed over Mark’s features. “Deena said she might need me to help out on the front desk later.”
“You have your pager, don’t you?” Mark rushed to ask.
Skylar nodded, not trusting her voice.
“Fine. Then she can page you if she needs you.”
“Right. I guess so,” Skylar managed, now stepping inside. She pulled off her gloves and began to unzip her parka. “Coffee, then. And I can only stay for a minute. Just to warm up a bit before I head back,” she added, thinking, What harm can there be in a friendly cup of coffee with a coworker?
She settled down on the same sofa where she had lain semiconscious only a week before while Mark went into the kitchen and returned with two cups of piping hot espresso. He sat on a low ottoman to the right of the sofa, angled so he could focus on her.
With his back to the glittering fire, he seemed to blend into the glowing, intimate setting and everything took on a surreal effect. Skylar forced her shoulders down a notch and tried to relax.
“So, how are you likin
g Scenic Ridge?” Mark began. He shifted closer, as if to let Skylar know that he planned to be fully engaged in their conversation.
Edging back slightly, Skylar put a little more space between them and offered Mark an awkward smile, trying to appear at ease. However, she was definitely nervous and unsure of what to say now that she was finally alone with Mark again. She had rehearsed this moment many times, and now, here she was. He was close enough to touch, to smell, and his deep green eyes were just as amazing as she recalled. Tightening her jaw, she reminded herself that she had to hold it all together and keep him from knowing just how rattled she was.
“Fine,” she managed, forcing strength into her voice. “Just super. It’s a beautiful place and everyone has been so helpful and nice.”
“Yeah, your sister, Deena, and her husband run a first-class place. The staff is great, and rumor has it that you’re the perfect replacement for Jean-Paul.”
“I hope so,” she replied, in a more confident tone, settling in for a real conversation. Obviously he was interested in talking to her, and she sure wanted to know more about him, so his invitation to come in for coffee had provided the perfect opportunity for her to get all the information she could. “From what I understand, no one really misses Jean-Paul,” Skylar added with a short laugh. “I’ve heard a lot of wild stories about his very eccentric ways. I’m surprised Deena and Jerome put up with him so long.”
“Apparently, he took extra-special care of the guests and they loved him, even though he gave the rest of the staff a hard time,” Mark said. “He and I got along okay, but I have to admit that I didn’t call on him to help me out with anything…not once.”
“Is that so?” Skylar coyly commented. And this is my fourth request for a special delivery to your suite in little more than a week.
“Yeah,” Mark commented, missing her reaction. “I’m pretty self-sufficient.” He raised his chin, as if thinking back. “Jean-Paul did have a certain flair that added charm and drama to everything he did; however, at times I think he took himself, and his job, much too seriously. He was beginning to come off as pretentious.”
“Well, I take my job as concierge seriously, too,” Skylar quickly interjected, narrowing her eyes. “Do you consider me pretentious?”
“No, of course not,” Mark hurried to say. He studied Skylar, a half-smile tilting his lips. “If anything, you’re the most unpretentious woman I’ve met in a long time, and I find it very…attractive.”
With a quick nod, Skylar accepted his compliment. “Thank you, Mark. I consider myself a working girl who wants to do a good job. After all, my sister is my boss. She’s placed her trust in me and I can’t let her down.”
“Very commendable,” Mark said, and then went on to ask, “What other resorts did you work at before you came here?”
His question hit Skylar like an unexpected snowball to the back of the head, and she momentarily froze. “Oh,” she uttered, looking up, her mind spinning with possible answers. Should she fabricate some stuff, avoid the question with a rambling answer, or tell the truth? After a beat, she decided to give him as little information as possible without really lying. “I’ve worked in a few hotels, mainly in Florida, but this is my first job at a ski resort.”
“So you don’t ski?”
“No,” Skylar confessed rather sheepishly. “But, let me clarify that. I’m damn good at skiing on water, but not on snow.” She laughed, shrugging her shoulders.
Pressing a finger to his lips, Mark assessed her with a nod. “Well, we’ll have to do something about that. I’d love to give you a few lessons. No way can you work at a place like this and not get out on the slopes. The thrill of gliding downhill, the beautiful scenery. You’ll love it.”
“I dunno,” Skylar began, thinking of how much she wanted to reveal. “You see, I was in an elevator accident some time ago and I’m not real keen about gliding downward on anything.”
“An elevator accident? Really? Were you hurt?”
“A few broken bones and some very bad bruises,” Skylar replied, downplaying the extent of her injuries and not ready to get into a conversation about all of the pain, both physically and emotionally, that she suffered as a result of the disaster.
“That must have been terrible,” Mark said, his words laced with genuine sympathy.
“It was. Believe me, it took months of therapy and a lot of mental determination to get inside an elevator again. So, skiing? I don’t think so.”
“Well, I wish you’d try. But I understand why you’d be afraid,” Mark replied. “I promise to go slow, on the baby hill. Let me give you just one lesson. After that, I guarantee, you’ll be hooked.”
While considering Mark’s request, Skylar’s mind slipped back to that awful sensation of falling that had been with her since the elevator accident. The thudding crash. The darkness. The pain. No way could she face sliding down an icy, snow-covered hill with two narrow pieces of fiberglass strapped to her feet no matter how competent an instructor Mark might be. However, the expression of anticipation on his face tugged at her, so she told him, “I’ll think about it, okay?”
“It’s a deal. I’m going to hold you to that,” he vowed, and then asked, “So, was it because of your accident, that you decided to leave Florida?”
“In a way, yes. After I recovered from my injuries, I was out of a job. So, when Deena called and told me about her opening here at Scenic Ridge, I grabbed it. Needed a change.”
“You sure got it. Aspen isn’t like Florida, is it?” Mark commented with a grin that showcased a single dimple in his right cheek.
God, he has the nerve to have dimples, too? Skylar realized, her stomach lurching in a too-pleasurable way. How had she missed that delicious feature? She sat up straighter and pulled back her shoulders before speaking. “Really a huge difference, you’re right. It’s so cold up here, but not that unpleasant. Very strange to be outside when the sun is shining and there’s a ton of snow on the ground. When I’m in the sun, I’m not cold at all. Something to get used to,” she finished, pressing the rim of her cup to her lips as she averted her eyes to the red-gold fire, desperate to avoid Mark’s intense green gaze. It seemed to cut into her soul and thread its way to every part of her body, creating a tingling sensation that was making her far too warm.
“You grew up in Tampa and lived in Florida all of your life?” Mark continued.
“Um, hum,” she murmured, regaining her composure, going on to tell him about her work as a paralegal and that when her widowed mother left Tampa to live with an aunt in New York, Skylar was the only member of her family still residing there.
“Did you ever think about moving to New York, too? To be close to your mom?”
“Oh, no. I’d lived in Tampa all my life. I never dreamed I’d ever leave…but here I am in Colorado. The first time I’ve lived any place other than Florida. Can’t believe I’m actually here. But this is only temporary. Deena is still looking for a permanent replacement for Jean-Paul,” she said, deciding to change the subject. “I understand that you lived in Europe for a long time,” she began, inching cautiously into his background.
“Right,” Mark replied. “I was born in California, where my father lived, but I don’t have any contact with his family. My mother’s from Norway, so I have relatives in Oslo. But I’ve spent most of my life on mountainsides in Switzerland, Germany, Spain and Italy.”
“Sounds like you’ve led a glamorous life,” Skylar commented, not certain she envied such a nomadic way of living. She preferred things to be stable, familiar and predictable. To her, change was unnerving. “Skiing professionally must have been demanding. Did you train all the time?”
“No, not all the time. I got to meet a lot of interesting people and the competitions were the best.”
“Right. What is it like being famous?” Skylar asked, and was surprised to see a frown come over Mark’s face, as if she’d touched on a topic he found distasteful.
“Famous? Yeah, I guess I was, at one tim
e.” His voice was flat and without much spirit. He set down his coffee cup and pulled the ottoman so close to Skylar that one of his knees pressed lightly against hers. “But, you know something?” he asked, eyes wide.
“What?” she breathed, fully aware that their legs were touching, but not about to move.
“I haven’t said this to too many people…but at the height of my career, when I guess you could have called me famous, I wasn’t that happy. There was so much pressure to please so many people. Training all the time. Traveling from city to city, never making real friends, just hanging out with people who drifted in and out of my life. It seemed as if I was always taking orders from my mother, or a sponsor or someone who controlled my every move. I’m happy it’s behind me. I’m thirty-eight years old now and perfectly content to be out of the spotlight and out from under the pressure of skiing to win medals and money…and my mother’s approval.”
Skylar blinked at him, taken aback by this candid confession. “Gee…really? I’m surprised to hear you say that.”
“You know what would make me happy?”
“What?”
“To simply ski for pleasure and share the sport with those who thought they’d never be able to enjoy it. For too many years, I dealt with power-hungry types who were more concerned with making money or flaunting their wealth, than what I wanted.”
“That’s why you decided to teach?” Skylar asked.
“Partly. I like deciding what I want to do without running it past agents and managers and handlers and sponsors. I like living far away from my mother, too.”
Skylar simply stared at Mark and did not respond, thinking that she wished her mother still lived nearby.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Mark hurried to say. “I love my mother, but I need my space. Sometimes she makes it hard for me to be around her. Likes to smother me, if you know what I mean.” He was breathing hard when he finished, as if he had not been able to stop the torrent of words that spilled out so quickly.
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