Under The Mistletoe. Kristin Hardy
path that led to the three-story farmhouse that predated the hotel. Free on-site housing in very plush digs, one of the bennies of the job. Of course, it worked for the ownership, given that he was around 24/7 in case of crisis.
Ownership, he thought, and felt the familiar tug of regret.
It wasn’t going to be the same without Whit Stone. Lost friends, new challenges. Still, the hotel was a constant. He turned to look at it in all its palatial whiteness.
It wasn’t the view of the hotel that made his footsteps slow then, but the figure on the little loading dock outside the employee entrance. A woman, standing with her arms wrapped around herself in the winter cold, strands of her pale hair shifting in the breeze. She wasn’t staff. He knew the face and name of every person who worked for him. It was a point of pride. This woman he’d never seen before.
He’d have remembered.
She gazed at the sweep of the Presidential Range behind him, her face angled a little away. She looked like a faerie come down from the mountain, all silvery-blond hair and pale skin, wrapped about in a cape of dark green. There was a magic there that drew him, something compelling in the tilt of her eyes, the temptation of her lips.
Then she turned her head a bit and he saw the faint air of wistfulness that hovered around her mouth and shadowed her eyes.
Without conscious decision, he headed toward her.
She probably wasn’t supposed to be in this area of the hotel, but it was the only place Hadley had found that had the view she wanted and an absence of people. She’d get over her funk as soon as she started working. It was just the unfamiliar experience of having time to herself that was throwing her off.
The air was crisp and cold enough that her breath created a white plume each time she exhaled. So beautiful, the sweep of valley, the rise of the mountains, the snow-iced trees. She stared out at the panorama, wishing she knew how to draw, to capture that sweeping vista, that soaring openness in practiced, flowing strokes.
“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” a voice said.
Hadley jumped and stared at the man who approached her on the flagstone path. Beautiful view? Beautiful man, more like it. It was almost bad form to be that gorgeous outside of a movie or a magazine. Tall, dark and handsome was such a cliché, she wanted to tell him. Maybe she would.
If she could get her tongue to work.
“Sorry I startled you.”
She moved her head, the desire to avoid attention immediate. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people. It isn’t polite.” Which was a good thing; after all, there had to be something wrong with anyone who was that perfect looking, all cheekbones and honed jaw, dark hair flopping down over his forehead.
The humor in his eyes only made him more attractive. “Well, I can’t have that said of me. Please accept my apologies.”
“Maybe.” She hadn’t heard him approach; he’d just been there, long and lean in his charcoal crewneck and expensive leather jacket. Not a staff member, not with that kind of clothing. She recognized designer quality when she saw it.
“So are you blowing off the Employees Only sign?”
“I wanted to see the mountains.”
“I don’t blame you. But I’m betting there are better places to do it here. Places where the heat’s on, for example.” His feet crunched on the flagstone path as he crossed it and came to a stop before the railing behind which she stood.
“You’re outside.”
He looked up at her, one corner of his mouth turning up. “Only for as long as it takes me to find a door.”
If he’d stepped just a bit closer she could have moved her hands from the railing and pushed his dark hair back off his forehead. She stared at him, wondering if his eyes were really that green or they just looked that way because of the backdrop of pines. The sudden pull that she felt caught her by surprise. “I’m fine,” Hadley said, putting her hands in her pockets. “It was just too crowded inside.”
“A loner.” He nodded as though confirming something to himself.
“Or choosy.”
“Is that a polite way of telling me to get lost?”
Not yet. She wasn’t ready for this to end. “It’s a public place. You pay the rates, you ought to be able to go anywhere you want, I guess.”
“Well, it is pretty here. I like the view.”
“But you’re not even looking at the mountains.”
He grinned. “You noticed that?”
Hadley felt the flush creeping across her cheekbones and, dammit, she couldn’t help smiling back. She could just imagine what Robert would say. She was on assignment. She was supposed to be working, not flirting.
Flirting was foolish, anyway. There was a girlfriend somewhere, had to be. Men who looked like him didn’t come to places like the Mount Jefferson solo. She had no business looking at his mouth and wondering just how it tasted. She had no business talking to him at all.
She belonged in a winter landscape, Gabe thought, with her white-blond hair and those gray eyes. The soft, wistful gaze was gone now, replaced by a guarded expression he felt an illogical urge to wipe away. He’d seen the startled look flash across her face a few seconds before, though, had seen her eyes darken. As hotel manager, Gabe was always talking to guests, but his interest in her was far from professional.
Down, boy.
Okay, he was a grown-up. He could chat with her a little bit without drooling all over her. After all, charming the guests was his job. “Well, I guess you’re right to enjoy the blue skies while you can. I hear it’s supposed to snow tonight,” he said.
Her expression brightened. “Really? I love winter, it’s my favorite time of year. I envy anyone who gets to live here.”
“Of course, you don’t have to shovel snow for five months running.”
She laughed, and Gabe felt the jolt right down to his toes. Forget all the foolish stuff about faeries and pixies. With her eyes dancing as she looked down at him, she was flat-out beautiful. “Spoken like someone who lives in snow country. Look at it as a cheap way to get in shape. Some people spend money on health clubs.”
He shook his head. “I grew up on a farm. I always swore I’d never pay good money to lift weights.” He had grown up on a farm, and he’d left it as soon as he decently could. If he could point to any one character flaw, it would be an unreasonable affection for luxury. He was happy to work hard, as long as it was on his own terms. The Hotel Mount Jefferson suited him like a comfortable pair of shoes.
“Where I live,” she said, “snow’s rare enough to be fun.”
“Where’s that?”
“Manhattan.”
He wouldn’t have picked her for a city girl. She belonged in this kind of setting, among mountains and snow. “It’s not that rare there. It’s just that the city clears it away as quickly as they can.”
She opened her mouth to speak, then looked beyond him, her eyes widening in alarm. “Oh God, there’s a fire. Look.” She pointed at the plume of smoke that rose from the distant slope.
Gabe peered at it. “That’s not a fire, that’s the engine from the cog railway.”
“The cog railway?”
“There’s an old railway up there. It’s open now for skiers.”
“A train goes up the side of that mountain?” she asked, staring at the steep slope that rose from the forested valley.
“All the way to the top, in summer. You can only ride it half way this time of year.