Читать книгу Suite Embrace - Anita Bunkley - Страница 10

A soft tapping sound at her door awakened Skylar from a restless, semiconscious half-sleep. Tossing off the soft, wool throw she had wrapped around her body when she fell across her rustic, four-poster bed, she struggled to sit up. The room was light, so she knew it was still daytime. Unable to sleep, she had gotten enough rest to feel a lot better. Her head no longer ached, but her stomach lurched with each step she took, and after pausing to run a hand over her tangled hair, she pulled open the door.

It was not Deena standing there holding the tray with a tea caddy on it, as she had hoped, but a woman dressed in black pants and a crisp white shirt.

“Ah, hello. Miss Webster…hope I didn’t wake you,” she started. “I’m…”

Skylar nodded in recognition, her mind beginning to clear. How could she forget the tall, big-boned girl with light brown skin, frizzy dyed-red hair and a heavy dose of brown freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks. “You’re Kathy. Food and Beverage supervisor, right?”

Kathy beamed. “Yes. You remembered! My husband, John, is the assistant director of the ski school and I’m your backup concierge, don’t forget.”

“Right. Kathy, you’ll have to excuse me. I know I look a mess. I had to lie down for a few, my system is really jacked up.”

Kathy nodded sympathetically. “Altitude sickness?”

“Yep.”

“Too bad, honey. But it’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

“I sure hope so,” Skylar commented, rubbing her stomach. “So, Kathy. What can I do for you?”

“I need your help. I wish I didn’t have to bother you, but I have a big party to tend to and there’s no one else to go and…”

“No, no. Come in,” Skylar invited, stepping back to let the nervous girl inside. “And I hope that’s a pot of hot tea you’ve got there.”

“It is. Thought you might need something to help calm your stomach.”

“Thanks. Just needed a little downtime to adjust. What can I do to help?”

“You have a car right?”

“Yes, a rental.”

“Good. I need you to pick up an important delivery in Crested Village. It’s a small town about fifteen miles from here. It’s not a bad drive and if you leave now, you ought to get back before dark. I hate to ask you to do this on your first day here, but the delivery is a custom order for the head of our ski school and he’s been waiting for it for a week.”

“For Mark Jorgen?” Skylar asked.

“Right. We’ve had a heck of a time tracking down this particular kind of liquor. Called Linie Aquavit—a type of schnapps that comes from Norway. According to Mark it’s placed in oak barrels and sent on Norwegian vessels back and forth across the equator to enhance the flavor,” she finished with a grimace. “Terribly expensive stuff.”

“Sounds like it must be very special stuff, too, huh?” Skylar remarked, surprised that Deena would go to so much trouble for the resort’s ski instructor. After all, it wasn’t as if Mark Jorgen was a major player on the sports scene anymore or even a movie star! He was an employee, just like she was. “Is he that particular about everything?” she wanted to know, thinking ahead about her involvement with him.

Tilting her head to the side, Kathy considered Skylar’s question, obviously not about to answer too quickly. “Let’s just say that he, and his mother, are accustomed to having the best of everything.”

“His mother works here, too?”

“Oh no, but she’s arriving later this month for an extended visit. Deena has already filled me in on her tastes, and Linie Aquavit is her favorite drink, so Mark wants to have it on hand.”

“How nice of him,” Skylar murmured, curious to meet this Olympic gold medalist who was so devoted to his mom.

“Anyway,” Kathy went on, “the Lainpour shop in Crested Village will only hold the liquor for us until seven o’clock tonight. So, you’ve got to hurry. And after you pick it up, can you deliver it directly to Mark in the Snow King Suite?”

“And where’s the Snow King Suite?” Skylar wanted to know. Deena had mentioned that there were several private cabins on the grounds for special guests, but Skylar never would have guessed that the ski school director would be living in one.

Kathy went to the window, pulled back the sheer curtains and pointed to what looked like a mini-lodge set high on a knoll in the distance. “Over there. When you return, use the service road that runs behind the main lodge to get to the Snow King Suite. Think you can manage that?”

Blinking away the last vestiges of sleep, Skylar nodded. “Sure. Now all I need are really good directions and a cup of hot tea before I leave.”

“Oh, that’s no problem! I brought you both,” Kathy told Skylar, making a rapid exit.

Within half an hour, Skylar was in her Jeep and driving higher into the mountains, headed east with the late afternoon sunlight at her back. Kathy’s map was easy to read and Skylar had no trouble finding Lainpour, a tiny shop on the main street of Crested Village. However, when she told the shopkeeper that she was there to pick up the case of Linie Aquavit, he told her that she had to go to his warehouse, ten miles down another winding road to get it.

By the time she got there, it had started to snow and the sun was rapidly disappearing. The slow-moving, too-chatty warehouse manager was in no hurry to stow the case of Norwegian liquor in the back of Skylar’s Jeep, and when he finally finished, heavy snow was falling and dark shadows that resembled silhouette cut-outs of the forest were hovering over the snow-crusted road.

Questioning her eagerness to take on this crazy mission, Skylar waved a grim good-bye to the man in the warehouse and settled behind the steering wheel, praying she would be able to get back to Scenic Ridge without getting lost.

She could see that more and more snowflakes were dotting the air. Her headache was back with a vengeance, her stomach churned, and she feared she was going to either throw up or pass out at any moment. Reaching into her purse, she grabbed a bottle of aspirin, shook out three pills, popped them into her mouth and washed them down with the bottled water she had wisely brought along. The bitter aftertaste of the medicine stuck in her throat, making her feel even more uncomfortable and nauseous. However, she forced the sensation out of her mind, unfolded her map and studied it, mentally reversing Kathy’s directions as she pulled onto the road.

The drive back was frightening and tense. The snowfall steadily intensified until Skylar found herself staring into a sheet of blurry white, her vision reduced to a strip of light illuminated by the beams of her headlights. Slowing her pace, Skylar crawled along the single lane, praying she would not encounter another vehicle coming from the opposite direction.

“I’ll just take my time,” she murmured, forcing her shoulders back as she tried to relax. She turned on the radio and settled for a John Denver retrospective as she clutched the steering wheel and inched her way down the rocky path.

It took Skylar an hour and a half to get back to Scenic Ridge, where snow was rapidly piling up on the pitch-black service road. But, the moment she turned her Jeep toward the Snow King Suite, a wave of relief swept over her. She had successfully returned with her precious cargo and fulfilled her first assignment as the new concierge. In spite of her pounding headache, she felt pretty proud of herself.

Lights burned in every window of the cabin. Smoke curled from the chimney and drifted off into the snow-filled sky, filling the air with its pungent smell. Several pairs of skis were propped on the front porch alongside a shiny, red, old-fashioned bobsled and three pairs of boots. Skylar reached into the back of the Jeep and pulled out one of the bottles of schnapps to personally deliver to Mr. Jorgen, and then, on wobbly legs, stepped out of the car and gulped down a mouthful of cold air, fighting the urge to get totally sick right where she stood. Clutching the bottle with one hand and her stomach with the other, she cautiously mounted the three steps that led to the front door.

Before she had a chance to knock, the door swung open and Skylar locked eyes with a man standing in the entry.

“Oh. It’s you!” she gasped, stepping back in surprise. It was the intrusive, but handsome, guy from Gorsuch who had so annoyingly butted in on her shopping spree that morning. “You’re Mark Jorgen?”

“Yes, that’s me,” he said, in his accented voice. “And you are?” he prompted.

“I’m…” Skylar stammered, fighting back a violent wave of nausea. All of the blood in her body suddenly rushed to her feet, making her feel as if she were falling from the top of a high mountain peak. Dizzy and off-balance, she stared blankly at Mark, dropped the bottle of Linie Aquavit and sank to the floor with a crash.