Читать книгу Wedding His Takeover Target / Inheriting His Secret Christmas Baby: Wedding His Takeover Target - Emilie Rose - Страница 9

Her grandfather had closed the door.

Sabrina couldn’t remember any other time in her life when Pops had shut her out of a conversation. She blamed their unexpected visitor—one who couldn’t be bothered to make an appointment—for the exclusion.

Gavin Jarrod epitomized everything Sabrina disliked about the soon-to-be-arriving ski season guests. Rich guys like him, with their perfectly tousled hair, flawless faces and gym-buffed bodies swaggered into town like they owned the place. They threw around their money and entitled attitudes, expecting the world to revolve around their wants and acting like the local businesses should kiss their expensively-shod feet and be grateful for whatever crumbs the rich guests threw their way.

Well, not her. She’d had enough of that holier-than-thou behavior throughout school from the wealthy snobs who’d attended the elite private college where her parents had taught. Those snotty students had made sure Sabrina knew she was not one of them. As if being a professor’s daughter made her somehow genetically inferior to someone born to money.

She swished the cleaning cloth over the countertop and tried to ignore the anger and worry making her stomach churn. She knew her grandfather’s health wasn’t as good as it had been when she’d arrived three years ago. He slept more, ate less and had trouble keeping up with the inn’s routine maintenance—a job he used to tackle with enthusiasm. But he wouldn’t let her hire anyone to help him. He always claimed he’d get to the tasks, but the to-do list kept growing and the clock ticked down on the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday when the ski slopes would officially open and the guests would arrive—whether the inn was ready or not. Unless a miracle happened, this year the inn wasn’t going to be ready.

Was Gavin Jarrod here to try and buy the inn? She couldn’t imagine her grandfather handing over the reins, but that day was coming, she realized with a heavy cloak of sadness. She’d hoped—prayed, really—he’d let her take over, but a few months ago while cleaning his office she’d come across a pamphlet on his desk on donating property to the historic trust. When she’d asked him about it he’d told her not to worry, he had everything under control. But how could she not lose sleep? If he donated or sold the inn she’d have to find a new home and job.

In the meantime, the only thing she could do was try to help more. She glanced at her sore thumb. Carpentry wasn’t her strong suit, but she’d get better with practice.

The sitting room door opened, and footsteps—too sure and firm to be her grandfather’s—approached.

“Thanks for the coffee and snack.”

Who was Gavin Jarrod and what business did he have with Pops? Reluctant to face the brown, gold-flecked eyes that seemed to see straight through her, she turned slowly. “You’re welcome.”

“Your coconut cake is probably the best I’ve ever tasted.”

Pleasure sent another blast of heat through her already warm body. She struggled to suppress the reaction. No doubt his charm and flattery combined with his money and looks made it easy for him to coast through life. “It’s my grandmother’s recipe.”

“Henry said you don’t have any guests tonight.”

Why would Pops volunteer that? “No. Early November is like the lull before the storm.”

“It’s been the same back at The Ridge ever since the Food & Wine Gala ended. I’m exploring the area restaurants before the tourists hit town. Show me your favorite tonight.”

She fought a grimace. He wasn’t the first of his kind to assume she could be had as easily as booking a room. “I don’t have a favorite, and I’ve already prepared dinner for myself and my grandfather.”

His eyes narrowed. “Henry can serve himself. Let someone cook for you for a change.”

Eating someone else’s cooking was tempting, but not with Gavin Jarrod or his ilk. She’d been led on by too many rich boys and then dumped when she wouldn’t get naked for them or get her parents to give them better grades.

“No. But, thank you.” She tacked on the last hastily because she could almost feel the ghost of her grandmother rapping her knuckles for being ungracious and impolite.

His steady gaze continued to drill her. She felt like a butterfly fighting to get free of a collector’s pin. “Henry is worried that you don’t get out often enough.”

Embarrassment bubbled inside her. Thanks, Pops. “That’s because I don’t date.”

“Ever?”

“No.”

His square jaw dipped. “Are you gay?”

Typical. “Do you assume every woman who turns you down is gay?”

A slow smile curved Gavin’s full lips. “Only the ones who ignore the obvious chemistry between us.”

So he’d caught that, had he? She hadn’t experienced that rush of response since before her husband had died and it had caught her off guard. She had no interest in pursuing it. “There is no chemistry.”

The fire in Gavin’s eyes told her she shouldn’t have challenged him. Two long strides brought him within touching distance. Within smelling distance. An outdoorsy, woodsy and clean scent mixed with a hint of something spicy and exotic clung to him.

She stared into his handsome face, alarm prickling the hairs on her nape and arms. He wasn’t particularly tall—six feet, maybe a little more—but he seemed bigger in an intimidating, turf-conquering way despite the snowboarder-disheveled hair that should have made him appear easygoing and approachable.

“No chemistry?” He lifted a hand.

Sabrina backed out of reach. “Don’t.”

“Don’t prove you’re lying?”

“Calling a woman a liar is a unique way to win points. Does that approach usually work for you, Mr. Jarrod?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “You seem like the type who’d appreciate honesty.”

“Good deduction. Let’s start with what business do you have with my grandfather?”

“I’d be happy to tell you.” Gavin’s smile broadened, revealing an orthodontist’s dream of straight white teeth. “Over dinner.”

Sabrina ground her molars in aggravation. How could she protect her grandfather and the inn without information? “Nice try. The answer’s still no.”

“Not even if I tell you your grandfather has something I want?”

Warning sirens blared in her head. “What?”

“Join me and I’ll tell you.”

She really hated being backed into a corner, but she wasn’t going to let Gavin have the upper hand.

“Make it lunch.” It wouldn’t be a date. It would merely be a fact-finding mission.

Those gold-flecked eyes probed hers. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eleven. Dress warmly. Wear walking shoes.”

Without waiting for an answer he brushed past her and exited via the back door.

Dress warmly? Wear walking shoes? What had she gotten herself into? At the sound of the lock catching, the tension deflated from her muscles like air escaping from a balloon.

The creak of a floorboard brought her around. Pops made his way down the center hall, his steps lacking the vigor that had once radiated from him. She tucked her concern away for later and parked her hands on her hips. “What was that about?”

“Jarrod’s just being neighborly.”

The fact that he didn’t look at her when he spoke sent tingles of worry down her spine. “Baloney. What does he want?”

“Can’t a body converse with a neighbor?”

“He told me you had something he wanted.”

He shrugged. “The Jarrods own half the damn valley. What more could they want?”

When Pops wore that stubborn expression trying to get him to talk was a waste of time, but she didn’t believe the just-being-friendly story for one second.

“Pops, why did you tell him I don’t go out?”

“You don’t.”

She shook her head. “You know I’m not interested in—” “You should be. Your husband died. You didn’t.” She flinched at the quick stab of pain. “I’m not ready.” She’d never be ready. She’d given up everything for love, and when Russell had died she’d had nothing left—nothing except Pops and the Snowberry Inn. And now she could lose those.

His shoulders drooped. “When I’m gone—” “Stop. You know I hate it when you talk that way.” “Hating it doesn’t change the facts, girl. You can’t run this place by yourself. It’s too much. You need someone to help you. Someone who doesn’t punch a time clock or resent the long hours.”

“I don’t have to be married to be a good businesswoman. I can take care of the inn the way you and Grandma taught me.”

He shook his head. “You’re missing the point, Sabrina. Life is meant to be shared and enjoyed, not endured. If you try to run this place on your own you won’t have time for a life. Russell would be the last one to want you to sit on the bench for the remainder of your days.”

Sabrina swallowed to ease the grief tightening her throat at the mention of her husband. “I haven’t noticed you dating since Grandma passed.”

“That’s because I already had forty-six years with the best woman God ever created. No one else can measure up. I don’t want to lead a lady on only to disappoint her, ‘cuz I ain’t settling for second-best, and I ain’t getting hitched again. I’m too old to change my ways to suit another. You’re only twenty-five. Too young to quit living. Tarnation, I have more of a social life than you do.”

“I could always join your weekly poker club.” Her tongue-in-cheek comment deepened the concern shadowing his eyes.

“Don’t sass me, Sabrina. You once talked about traveling the world and filling your home with a passel of young’uns. You still have time for both. But not if you keep hiding here.”

The cold ashes of dead dreams stirred inside her. “I’m not hiding. I’m working. And I don’t need children to have a full life. As far as seeing the world, I have everything I want right here, Pops. The world’s travelers come to us.”

“The world might come to Aspen, but hearing about somebody else’s adventures secondhand and watching from the sidelines ain’t the same as playing in the game.”

“I certainly don’t have a future with some rich guy who’s only counting days until he can leave town.”

“He ain’t your father. Jarrod might have left town, but he came back the minute his daddy died. Don’t try to tell me you’re not interested in him. I saw you putting on lip gloss in the hall.”

Guilt burned Sabrina’s cheeks. “I was working outside trying to fix the loose railings when he interrupted me. My lips were dry.”

“Yep, I’m sure that explains why you couldn’t take your eyes off each other when you were in the same room.”

She didn’t bother to deny it. “You don’t know him. How can you or I trust him? I’ve heard you refer to the Jarrods as land-hungry thugs too many times to count.”

“That was their daddy. Donald Jarrod turned into a heartless, selfish bastard after his wife died. He gobbled up everything around him, and he rode his kids so hard it’s no wonder they all skedaddled as soon as they could. But I know more about the Jarrod boys than you think. I watched ‘em grow up. The whole town did. And while those boys might have gotten up to some high jinks like reg’lar kids, they were hard workers and always respectful.”

Hard workers? She couldn’t imagine anyone with the Jarrods’ wealth doing anything that required them to break a sweat except maybe watching the stock market play with their investment portfolios. Jarrod Ridge catered to the wealthiest clients who wanted pampering and spoiling. Their guest list read like a global who’s who of famous names, and a day at the resort’s spa cost more than she made in a month’s salary. She knew that much from the grapevine and the local paper.

But that didn’t tell her why Gavin had come here and secluded himself in a room with her grandfather. Was Pops going to donate the inn to the historic preservation society or was he thinking of selling to the Jarrods? “He’s not here to buy the inn, is he?”

“He’s not interested in the inn.”

“Then what?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.” But again, his gaze drifted away from hers.

She had to find out what was going on. The only way she’d get her answers was to get as wily as Pops. She wouldn’t tell him she’d already been coerced into lunch.

“I’ll go out with Gavin if you’ll agree to let me hire a handyman to get this place in shape. We’re booked solid beginning the Monday before Thanksgiving all the way through mid-March.”

His pride obviously ruffled, Pops puffed up his narrow shoulders. “I can handle the chores.”

“I’m sure you can. There’s not that much to do. But this way you can focus on the important items and let someone else sweat the small stuff.”

His eyes narrowed and his thumb jabbed his chest. “You got yourself a deal but only if I get to pick the handyman. And you’ll give Jarrod a fair shot. Y’hear?”

“I’ll go out with him once. It’s up to him to make me want more.” And she could safely guarantee that would never happen. She was through with love and all the heartaches that went with it. And she specifically wanted nothing to do with Gavin Jarrod.

The knock on the front door filled Sabrina with dread. She’d rather slam her thumb with the hammer again than go on this outing.

Determined to get this over with, she shrugged on her coat and zipped it to her chin, then marched across the foyer and opened the door. Gavin, wearing a black ski jacket that accentuated his broad shoulders, filled the entry. Her insides did an inexplicable gelatin jiggle thing, and the frosty air sweeping inside did nothing to cool her suddenly warm cheeks.

Okay, so he was attractive. But nothing was going to happen between them no matter what Pops hoped.

Gavin’s dark gaze skimmed Sabrina from her barely behaving curls to her scuffed boots. “Bring gloves and a toboggan.”

She glanced past him and spotted a Jeep with monstrously large tires in the inn’s parking lot. No luxurious Cadillac today. “Where are we going?”

“On a picnic.”

Was the man stupid or just into torturing her? “It’s forty degrees outside.”

“I won’t let you get hypothermia.”

“And how exactly do you plan to keep me warm? If this is some rich-boy ruse to get physically close you’re going to be disappointed.”

“It’s not. Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

Trust him? Not on her life. She snagged her gloves and hat from the hallstand. “Let’s go.”

The gold flecks in his eyes glittered with amusement. “Said with the enthusiasm of a woman on her way to have cavities filled at the dentist’s office without Novocain.”

“Does your ego require me to pretend I’m eager to go out with you? You know I only agreed because you’re withholding information.”

His grin broadened—like a shark’s—at her sarcasm. “You won’t regret spending the day with me.”

“That remains to be seen. And it’s not the day. Just lunch. Two hours, at the most. I have chores to do this afternoon.”

His confidence—or was it arrogance?—came through loud and clear in the cocky way he indicated the four-wheel drive vehicle with a sweeping arm and a slight bow. Sabrina traversed the walk, conscious of him looming behind her. He reached past her to open the door. Avoiding contact, she climbed inside the Jeep.

She caught a glimpse of her grandfather’s face at one of the inn’s windows. Why did he look so serious? He was getting his way. She hoped he appreciated her sacrificing an afternoon of repairs for this. But he’d agreed to hire help, and that would make suffering through the next couple of hours worth it. Resigned to her fate, she buckled her seat belt.

Gavin slid into his seat and started the engine. He turned the car toward Jarrod Ridge. Sabrina sat back and took in the scenery of Aspen’s grid of streets. Art galleries, designer clothing and jewelry boutiques and famous chefs’ restaurants lined the sidewalks, alternating old-world charm with more modern architecture. For such a small city, Aspen’s downtown and the surrounding ski areas brought in a lot of tourists and generated a lot of jobs and revenue. She was lucky to be a part of it. And she didn’t want to lose it, but there was no way she could afford to live here without the inn.

All too soon Gavin turned through the resort’s arched entrance. She’d never had a reason to come down this road, and her curiosity got the better of her, but before she could catch more than a glimpse of the reportedly ultra-luxurious lodges, Gavin veered off the driveway and onto a dirt track.

“Where does this go?”

“My favorite spot.” He shot a short, stabbing, breath-stealing glance her way. She shut down her response. Charming or not, she wasn’t interested in him or a bored, rich guy’s flirtation.

The track grew rougher and steeper. She gripped the seat and stared out the window rather than at Gavin. The Jeep bounced along until he took a sharp turn around a boulder and stopped on the edge of a small clearing. “We’re here.”

She swept her eyes across the snow-dappled scene. No picnic tables. Nothing, in fact, except nature. Dirt. Rocks. Trees. “This is it? We’re in the middle of nowhere. How far are we from the lodge?”

“Not far as the crow flies, but I wouldn’t recommend trying to hike it unless you’re a seasoned climber. The terrain is pretty rough.”

She wasn’t an outdoorsman. She shoved open the car door and cold air gusted inside making her shiver. “Maybe we should eat in the car.”

“Coward.” He delivered the insult as a challenge, then climbed from the vehicle and walked to the back to retrieve a bulging backpack which he shrugged on. After tugging on her hat and gloves she followed.

When she reached his side he tossed a thick blue blanket at her. “Think you can carry that?”

“Sure.” She’d probably need to wrap up in it.

After locking the Jeep he headed down an almost indecipherable trail scratched through the low-growing junipers. Sabrina trudged after him, inhaling the crisp, clean air. This is what Gavin smelled like, she realized. Evergreens and earth and sunlight. An odd combination for a city guy.

“Watch your step,” he cautioned over his shoulder as the ascent steepened. “Do you need a hand?”

“I can manage.” She hadn’t been hiking in ages—not since the summer before she’d run away to get married. Back then her grandfather had had the energy to take her exploring in the mountains around Aspen, sometimes on horseback, but usually on foot. When the inn hadn’t been busy her grandmother had joined them. Those carefree days had been some of the happiest in Sabrina’s life.

Brushing off the sadness and worry, she studied the green firs, pines and bare aspen trees around her rather than the taut leg and butt muscles flexing in front of her. Gavin probably paid a trainer an obscene amount of money to keep him in shape.

For the next ten minutes she concentrated on her footing and her breathing. Just when she thought her lungs would burst from the unaccustomed exercise he stopped. “This is it.”

She scanned the clearing at the base of a rock face, noting the carefully laid fire pit stacked with split logs and surrounded by stones. He’d obviously been up here earlier to prepare for this outing. “There’s nothing here.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He shrugged off his knapsack, removed his gloves and then lit the fire. The dry wood caught quickly. “How much do you know about Aspen’s history?”

Sabrina moved closer to the crackling flames even though the climb had warmed her. She shed her gloves to enjoy the heat on her palms. “I know Aspen began as a silver mining town called Ute City in 1879, but I’m sorry to say that’s the extent of my knowledge even though I spent most of my summers here while my parents went away on research trips. I only learned enough of the city’s history to point the inn’s guests in the right direction.”

“What kind of research do your folks do?”

She considered dodging the question, but what did it matter if he knew? “They’re university professors back in Pennsylvania specializing in animal science. They’re always jetting off somewhere around the globe to study behavior patterns of some critter or another.”

“You didn’t go with them?”

“They claimed it was safer for me to stay with my grandparents.” Personally, she didn’t think her parents wanted to be distracted by looking after her when they had much more interesting things like polar bears or penguins in their sights.

He spread out the blanket on an area that had been raked clean of snow then proceeded to lay out an assortment of covered containers, a pair of thermoses, and finally a loaf of crusty bread wrapped in a cloth napkin.

Her instinct was to offer to help, but he’d forced this outing on her, so she let him do the work. Shoving her hands in her pockets, she wandered a few yards from the fire, trying to see what lay beyond the next turn in the path. Even though Gavin appeared occupied with the preparations, she could feel his attention focused on her like an alpha wolf’s would be aware of his pack—or his next meal.

He glanced up, finding her instantly and proving her point. “We’ll explore after we eat. Lunch is ready. Have a seat.”

Skeptical of how she’d enjoy a meal when she was so cold, she returned and eased down onto the blanket, trying to stay close to the fire and in reach of the food but not too close to her unwanted companion.

Gavin Jarrod unsettled her. Being near him made her feel as if she were perched at the top of the highest double black diamond ski trail and teetering on the verge of plunging downhill at breakneck speed. She wasn’t an expert skier by any means, and Gavin, like the most advanced slopes, was far out of her league.

“The mining heyday didn’t last long, did it?” she asked to change the subject to something less agitating.

His gaze hit hers like a falling tree, knocking the wind from her. “Most of the mines closed down after the Panic of 1893 and by the 1930s Aspen had less than a thousand inhabitants after maxing out at close to fifteen thousand. The region didn’t recover until the mid-1940s when it became a designated ski area. Jarrod Ridge weathered it all.”

The pride in his voice spurred her own. “So did Snowberry Inn. My ancestors have been here just as long as yours.”

“So they have.” He indicated the thermoses, giving her an excuse to break the connection his eyes seemed to have forged with hers. “You have your choice of hot coffee, hot chocolate or bottled water. We’re having chili for lunch. There’s freshly shredded cheddar in that tub, sour cream in this one and raw vegetables and dip in there.”

“This is a pretty decent spread,” she admitted grudgingly.

“For a guy?” He unscrewed the cap on one of the containers and steam mushroomed into the air. The aroma of the spicy chili filled her nose and her mouth watered.

She shrugged. “For a rich guy.”

He hiked a brow. “What did you expect?”

She shrugged. “An unimaginative, candlelit meal in some fancy place that doesn’t put prices on the menu, has obsequious waiters and a wine list the size of a telephone book.”

He studied her, and she couldn’t tell from his neutral expression if she’d annoyed him. “If I did that you might think I was trying to impress you.”

Was that deadpan humor or was he serious? “You’re not?”

He poured the thick chili into a bowl and passed it to her along with a spoon and a mug. “If I were, you’d know it. Eat before it gets cold.”

She frowned as she tried to make sense of the conversation and took a bite of the chili. The rich beefy flavor exploded on her tongue. “Mmm. This is good.”

“It’s one of my older brother’s recipes. Before Guy got too big for his britches he used to be a good cook. Now he owns a restaurant and lets others man the stove.”

“My compliments to the chef.”

He lifted his mug in a toast. “Glad you like it.”

“You cooked?” Surely he had a staff at his beck and call at the resort.

“Even rich guys have been known to stir a pot now and then.”

Chastened, she broke off a piece of bread, dipped it into her bowl and then ate while she tried to figure out what Gavin wanted from her. There were certainly far more attractive available women in town. Why her? Boredom? Slumming? The inn?

“What brought you back to Aspen?” His question chiseled into her thoughts.

Sabrina chose her words carefully. The full truth tended to elicit either pity or an anti-war tirade, and she wasn’t in the mood for either, so she edited. “My grandmother died and Pops needed my help with the inn.”

“Planning to stay?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do before moving here?”

“Work and school.” Wife. But enough about her. She shifted on the blanket. “What about you?”

“Work. Travel.”

She guessed she deserved the brief response. “Travel to where?”

He shrugged. “Anywhere the job or the mood took me.”

That sounded like heaven. She and Russell had intended to work their way around the country when he’d gotten out of the service, but his death on his last mission had derailed their plans.

The remainder of the meal passed with nothing but the sound of some small animal foraging for food in the background interrupted by an occasional jet overhead. After he’d packed away the dishes he extracted graham crackers, chocolate bars and marshmallows from his backpack along with a couple of skewers.

The ingredients looked familiar. “You’re making s’mores?”

“It’s a tradition. My brothers and I used to make them whenever we camped here.”

An image of him as a gangly kid chipped away at her dislike. “I haven’t had s’mores in a long time.”

She focused on his hands as he skewered the marshmallows then roasted them over the fire. His weren’t the pampered hands of a pencil-pushing millionaire. Small scars marred the tanned flesh and his palms had calluses. The imperfections didn’t fit with the Cadillac-driving, Tag Heuer watch-wearing, swaggering image she had of him from yesterday. “What do you do when you’re not killing time in Aspen, Gavin?”

“I’m a construction engineer.”

She’d been wrong. He wasn’t a man of leisure, and an engineer had to be smart despite the evidence to the contrary of his bringing her here to freeze her fanny off. But now that she considered it, she wasn’t all that cold with the warmth of the fire in front of her and the outcropping of rocks behind her to block the wind.

But his occupation told her nothing about why he’d be interested in her grandfather or the Snowberry Inn. “Working on what?”

“Bridges, dams, mines, buildings. I go wherever the project sounds the most interesting.”

“You love your job.” The enthusiasm in his tone gave it away.

“I never wanted to do anything else.”

“Then I can see why being grounded here for a year must be hard.” He had the world waiting for him.

“I’ll survive it.” He sandwiched a gooey semi-melted marshmallow and a piece of chocolate between two crackers and offered it to her.

She took it, bit into the crisp crackers and chewed, savoring the rush of memories the sweet treat brought back. She and her grandmother had made s’mores often. “Okay, I have to admit, I was skeptical about your picnic, but this was a good idea. It’s beautiful up here.”

“It’s better at night when you can see the stars.” He took a bite of his dessert.

“It’s a little late in the season for that with the night temperatures in the single digits.” She licked a sticky bit from her lip. “You still haven’t told me what my grandfather has that you want.”

“This.” His gesture encompassed the area around them.

A tiny dot of chocolate clung to the corner of his mouth. She had a weird urge to reach out and wipe it away with a fingertip. Or her tongue. Shocked by the errant thought, she averted her gaze and rescanned the setting rather than focus on that strangely tempting spot. “And what is ‘this’ exactly?”

“Five acres surrounded by Jarrod territory and a defunct silver mine started by one of my ancestors before Aspen was founded.”

When she looked back, the tempting daub of chocolate was gone, thank goodness. “Pops owns this land? But you said something about a poker bet.”

“Henry won the plot and the mineral rights from my grandfather fifty years ago. I want both back.”

“That’s all? Just this land? If he sells it to you, you’ll leave him alone?”

He picked up a stick and poked the fire, avoiding her gaze—exactly the way her grandfather had. “Yes.”

She didn’t believe him. Cradling the now-empty mug of coffee in her hands she searched his tense face. “And what do you want from me? Do you expect me to convince Pops to sell it to you?”

“We’ve already agreed on the terms.”

Something didn’t add up. “If Pops has already promised to give you what you want, then why am I here, Gavin?”

Silent seconds stretched between them. “Because I want you, Sabrina Taylor. And you want me, too.”

Her stomach swooped and burned in a way that had nothing to do with the spicy chili or the gooey, yummy dessert. Denial galloped in, making her heart pound like stampeding horses. “You’re mistaken.”

His teeth flashed in a brief, but predatory smile. “One of these days you’ll learn I rarely refuse a challenge. Looks like I’m going to have to prove you wrong.”

He hooked a hand behind her nape and pulled her forward, covering her mouth with his.