Mark found Richard Nobel standing at a chocolate fountain deep in conversation with a buxom young lady wearing a fluffy mink vest and the tightest jeans Mark had ever seen. He wondered how she could breathe, let alone sit down. When the girl moved on to fresher ground, Mark approached Richard.
“Richard Nobel?” Mark inquired stepping closer.
Richard jerked around and grinned. “Mark Jorgen! I recognize you.” He extended his hand and took Mark’s.
After the usual pleasantries, Mark got right to the point, eager to hear what the filmmaker had in mind. “I understand from my mother that you’re interested in doing a documentary film on me.”
“Right,” Richard agreed. “I want to do a series on African-American sports heroes, and my first will be on black champion skiers. As you must know too well, there aren’t many of you guys around.”
“I hear you. So what did you have in mind?”
“As you know, the brothers and sisters are getting out on the slopes in larger numbers, black ski clubs are gaining in popularity and the members are raising lots of money for good causes. I envision a fairly complex piece on you. Your career, how you got started skiing, what it was like to compete and live in a world where very few people of color were around. I see this as educational and entertaining. Something to motivate young people to take up skiing.” Richard went on to more fully explain his film to Mark, adding that he had already secured financial backing.
“So, I heard. My mother is producing?” Mark clarified.
“Right, and I can’t thank her enough for agreeing to back this project.”
“Hmm, it is flattering, I suppose,” Mark commented, going on to ask, “Are you going to feature the ski school here at Scenic Ridge, too?”
“Well, you know, I had thought about that. Skylar, the young lady who picked us up at the airport, agreed that it might be a good angle to include. Expand interest in the piece.”
Mark quickly nodded. “Exactly. If it weren’t for this school, a lot of the skiers who are in town for the Black Winter Sports Reunion wouldn’t be attending. Many of them learned to ski right here, and more than likely, Jerome Simpson waived their fees. I don’t think it would be fair to exclude the story of how and why Deena and Jerome devoted their lives to creating Scenic Ridge. To be honest, Richard, I don’t think what I have accomplished in my lifetime is any more important than what Deena and Jerome have built right here, and I don’t care much about being profiled unless the documentary also contains a heavy focus on Scenic Ridge.”
“Good point,” Richard agreed. “And once the documentary airs, it would give the school a boost in publicity and hopefully, a real financial push, too.”
“That’d be great,” Mark said. “The ski school is busy now, and we’re keeping up, but we could do a lot more if Deena could afford to increase the teaching staff and improve some of the trails.”
“Sounds good to me. Let’s move forward then,” Richard added enthusiastically. “I’m excited. You know, it just might make a lot of money for you, and your mother’s investors.”
The animation on Richard’s face as he detailed the financial windfall that could result, irritated Mark, who realized that Richard was beginning to sound very much like his mother. However, since the documentary would benefit Scenic Ridge, as well as himself, he was willing to go along with whatever Richard wanted.
“Well,” Mark told Richard, “Mother had better get busy tapping her friends and asking them to start writing checks. I think your project sounds great. I’d love to be a part of it.”
“Fantastic. I have a preliminary contract we can start with. Maybe go over the details tomorrow?”
“Sure,” Mark replied.
“And my cameraman is here, so I’m ready to get some spontaneous footage,” Richard said. “I’d like to get some shots of you in action on the slopes while you’re giving lessons tomorrow, and even some while you’re relaxing off the powder, as I’m sure you do. A real overview of what life at Scenic Ridge is like for a former Olympian, you know?”
“No problem. We can jump right in tomorrow,” Mark agreed. “Meet me at the ski school at ten, okay?”
“See you there,” Richard said, shaking Mark’s hand.
Just as Richard was about to walk away, Deena arrived, holding a green apple martini in one hand and a skewer of shrimp in the other. “So you two finally caught up with each other I see,” she commented before taking a sip from her martini. She focused on Mark. “I told Richard that you’d be in and out tonight, as you were overseeing the valet parking, so I’m glad you guys were able to connect.”
“Right,” Richard replied. “We had a good conversation and I’ve convinced Mark to be the subject of my autobiographical documentary.”
“Wonderful,” Deena remarked, nodding at Mark. “You’ve led such an interesting and inspiring life. Few men, especially black men, have achieved half as much as you have. Your life story ought to be shared.”
“But Richard hasn’t told you everything,” Mark interjected, focusing on the filmmaker. “You want to tell her?”
“Of course,” Richard said. “Mark has agreed to devote a good portion of his story to Scenic Ridge. I want to include the history of this place, how your husband’s family acquired the land, why you and your husband started the school, the challenges you’ve faced, not only in operating the ski school, but in attracting African-Americans and other minorities to the slopes. And of course, I want to highlight the personal side of living in a ski lodge. It would be a rare peek into a very different lifestyle, especially for African-Americans.”
“Oh yeah, it’s different, all right.” Deena chuckled. “The stories I could tell you! There’ve been lean years and times when we weren’t sure we were going to be able to keep the school open, but we’re doing so much better this season.” She paused to look at Mark. “And I know that having Mark Jorgen on staff has added tremendously to our profile. If this keeps up, next season will be even better. Maybe I’ll be able to hire additional instructors and open that trail on the mountainside beyond Brookman Mill. Jerome has wanted to do that for years.”
“Well, you’re lucky to have Mark on staff,” Richard said. “Once the documentary airs, the other ski schools in the area had better watch out. Scenic Ridge will really be on the map!”
Chapter 19
It was nearly one o’clock in the morning when the DJ spun his last tune and the party was officially over, but that did little to cool down the festive atmosphere. Laughter filled the great room and everyone was buzzing about Mariah Carey’s brief, but dramatic visit. She’d popped in, dressed entirely in white fur, signed a few autographs, spoken briefly with the media and posed for photos, including one with Deena and her staff. Then she was gone, leaving a trail of expensive perfume and a crush of breathless fans behind.
“I’m going up,” Deena told Skylar, sticking her head into Skylar’s office. She was holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a small plate piled with decorative sweets in the other. “I’ve been dying for a cup of coffee all evening and I want to eat my dessert in peace. You coming?”
Skylar snapped off her desk lamp and followed Deena into the lobby, where she paused next to the registration desk. “No, not right now. I need to check one thing, then I’m turning in. It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?”
“Really, but a good one. The party was fabulous and I think we got quite a bit of media coverage, too. But tomorrow,” she grimaced, “back to the regular grind.”
“I hear you,” Skylar agreed. “I’m whipped.”
“I know you are. What do you have to check on so late?” Deena wanted to know, already edging toward the elevator.
“Buttermilk trail maps. I think we’re out. At least I don’t have any more in my office.”
“Oh, check with Mark. He’s got tons. I think they’re in the file cabinet next to the computer in the ski school office.”
“Great. I’ll take care of it.”
“Don’t stay up to
o late, okay? Tomorrow’s gonna be a bear.”
“I won’t be long,” Skylar tossed back, her mind abuzz with the rush of the party, the crowds and the jam-packed day. There would be no time to rest until the reunion was over, and while it was going to be a hectic time, it was also very exciting. She had met so many interesting people from all over the country and now understood that for black skiers, the camaraderie and sense of connection that came with belonging to a ski club was just as important as hitting the slopes together. The clothes had been fabulous—just like a fashion show. The food and music had kept everyone swinging and in a real party mood, which would most likely continue throughout the reunion. It had been a long time since Skylar had enjoyed herself so much, even while working!
“Well, my coffee’s getting cold. Gotta run,” Deena called out, hurrying to catch the elevator as soon as the doors slid open.
Leaving the lobby, Skylar slipped on her jacket and headed toward the eastern wing of the lodge, where the ski school was connected to the main building via a short breezeway. The blast of cold air that hit her when she stepped outside felt surprisingly good, and she sucked in a long deep invigorating breath.
The school was dark, as she had guessed it would be. She took out her key and was about to shove it into the lock when the door opened in her face and Mark stepped out.
“Oh, my God. You scared me!” She jumped back. “I didn’t think anyone was in there.”
Mark took her by the arm. “Sorry I frightened you. I was just about to come looking for you. I was hoping you hadn’t turned in.”
Skylar put her keys back into her pocket and rubbed her hands together. “Well, I wasn’t exactly looking for you,” she admitted. “I need some more trail maps and Deena said you had some.”
“I do.” He made no move to go back inside. “I can bring them to you first thing in the morning. No need to go in there.” He looked at her as if expecting her to protest, and when she didn’t he went on. “Want to have a drink? Are you hungry? Tired?”
Skylar laughed aloud and nodded. “Yes to everything. What I’d love is a glass of champagne, some of those fancy cheese puffs and a foot soak.”
“Then let’s go,” he decided, taking her by the hand. “I can take care of all your needs. No sense in standing around out here in the cold.”
He led her over to his Range Rover, which was parked in the lot in front of the school, and opened the passenger-side door. Without commenting, Skylar climbed in. He circled the car, slid in beside her and started the engine.
Skylar held her breath when he swung onto the service road leading to the Snow King Suite, anticipating what lay ahead. In the midst of the frenzied party, she had not been able to shake the impact of their earlier encounter in her office. Something about their moment alone had struck her as a prelude to a much more serious reunion, and she had actually been hoping to see Mark before the evening ended. Maybe it had been his admission that he wanted Skylar and his mother to get along. Maybe it was Skylar’s own unrelenting need to feel loved again. Maybe it was simply a reaction to a very magical evening, but whatever was fueling this sensation, Skylar knew she was going to play it to the end.
She sat very still and didn’t relax the muscles in her stomach until Mark came to a stop outside his cabin, where lights were burning softly in the windows. She hurried from the car, crossing the hard-packed snow quickly, and then waited while Mark fumbled nervously with his keys.
Inside, he had barely closed the door before he reached out and took Skylar in his arms, pressing his body into hers. She whimpered helplessly to feel his fingers on the zipper of her jacket, then on her breasts, kneading and stroking and driving her wild. When his hardness brushed against her leg, the firm length of it excited her, initiating a promise that made her go weak.
His lips sought hers in a flurry of throwing off jackets and gloves and scarves, all while moving toward the bedroom, where they tumbled down on the soft, fleece quilt of his king-size bed, unable to let each other go.
“The champagne?” she managed weakly, though not remotely interested in doing anything other than holding onto Mark.
“Later,” he murmured, and he then pulled back and looked at her, one eye squinted half-closed. “Unless you seriously want me to…”
“No,” Skylar interrupted, laughing in a husky voice, raw with need. “That can wait. I don’t want anything but you. Right here. Right now. Don’t you dare move.”
The urgency in his kiss told Skylar that he was not going anywhere anytime soon. And as he molded his lips more tightly to hers, she responded with an eagerness that matched his, only faintly aware of how fast she was slipping toward loving him completely.
His kisses were brutally passionate, yet tenderly reassuring, awakening Skylar’s dormant desire to be loved. Singed by his fiery lips, she felt branded, as if he had already claimed her. Breathing hard, she lifted her chest and gathered him even closer, sealing the space between them.
Easily, they shed their clothing in bursts of yanking and tugging and peeling off layers until nothing separated the silky warm flesh of their bodies. In the soft bedroom light, Skylar marveled, again, at how erotically golden Mark was, and the sight of his perfectly toned physique initiated a catch in her throat that tugged at her core and made her eyes flutter closed.
He eased his naked body over hers. She looked up to meet his gaze, caught in the spiral of passion that was rapidly pulling her down.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, stroking one taut brown nipple that was begging to be touched. “You’re perfect, and you’re all I want, Skylar. I hope you know that by now.”
She moaned her reply when he buried his face between her breasts and rested there for a moment before taking one hard nipple and then the other in his mouth to tease and suckle until she gasped in pleasure. Releasing her with a shudder, he traced his tongue downward, over her flat stomach, to the curly dark hair that nestled between her legs. And while his fingers brushed her inner thighs, he tasted every inch of her, bringing her throbbing need to a point of near explosion.
Skylar threaded her fingers in his hair and luxuriated in his delicious taunting, content to accept his unselfish, erotic gesture. She cried out softly, unable to hold back from letting him know that he was giving her exactly what she needed and she was loving every moment of his passionate attention.
Gently, she urged him upward, and then followed his lead as they switched places, moving her to straddle on top of his hard, firm torso. She locked her thighs firmly around his hips, braced her knees at his sides and threw back her head. A ripple of relief, threaded with anticipation, came over her when she realized that Mark was reaching under his pillow and then opening a packet of protection.
With that in place, she parted her legs, inviting him in, and with her eyes closed, her breasts thrust forward, she allowed herself to be swept along as he thrust into her, in long sensuous strokes, fitting his body to hers.
“Love me, Mark. Please, love me,” she whispered over and over as she rode the waves of pleasure that rose and crashed throughout her body.
“That’s all I plan to do from now on,” he assured her, stoking the fire that was rapidly building between them.
When she thought nothing could keep her from exploding in a light-filled wave of pleasure, Mark moaned and eased her down beside him, not breaking their connection. He tasted her neck and caressed her back as they gently shifted positions, with him settled firmly over her.
Skylar pressed her head into the pillow, cupped his buttocks with both hands and forced him deeper, eager to prolong the dizzying ride that they were taking together. In a cadenced sway of hips and legs they found their rhythm and entered into a journey that took both of them over the crest of their electrifying need, where they crashed in unison with cries of joy.
“I never want this to end, Skylar. Never. I love you very much…and I need you,” he whispered with conviction, as if their union had given him a burst of strength, not taken his
breath away.
“And you’re all I want, too,” Skylar murmured, tracing her fingers along his spine. A sense of peace suddenly came over her, a feeling of satisfaction that she had not felt in a long time. Loving Mark was the right thing to do, and she would never regret her decision.
Chapter 20
Sunlight glinted off the banks of snow, creating fiery pinpoints of light that made Virina think about the diamond choker that her ex-husband had given her for Christmas one year. It had been an intricate heirloom necklace, designed by a famous Russian jeweler especially for Wilhelm’s grandmother. Too bad he’d asked for its return as part of their divorce settlement. Virina had been forced to hand the fabulous piece of jewelry over, but now, she wished that she had fought to keep it. It made such a statement of old money and class and whenever she’d worn it, it had caused quite a stir.
The trail leading from Vista View to the Snow King Suite was deserted, as Virina had hoped it would be when she set out on her early morning walk. Exercise and fresh air were very important to her and she rarely deviated from her routine of power walking for thirty minutes every morning, no matter where she might be or how late she might have been up the night before.
Filling her lungs, she plodded along, her insulated boots making a soft brushing sound with each step she took. She adjusted her blue tinted sunglasses and looked around, realizing why Mark had fallen in love with Scenic Ridge. It was an unspoiled jewel of a place, all right, but far too isolated and provincial for her taste. She had to admit that the party last night had been a nice affair, and for a good cause, too. But other than brief stops by Mariah Carey and a few B-list celebs, whom she did not recognize, no one of any real social status had attended. And after witnessing Mark’s unpleasant behavior with the concierge, Virina had had enough. By ten o’clock she was back in her cabin and in bed reading the latest issue of Vogue magazine.
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