Dynasties: The Jarrods. Maureen Child

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СКАЧАТЬ but there was no point in putting things off. There was a lot coming up and since she was now expected to take her place in the Jarrod family, she might as well get her feet wet right away.

      “The food and wine gala is coming up in a few weeks,” he said. “It’s a big deal in Aspen. Held every year, lasts several weeks and has foodie and wine lovers in the country and in Europe coming into town to enjoy themselves.”

      “I’ve read about it,” she said. “And seen some coverage on the news every year, too. It’s practically a Mardi Gras type thing, isn’t it?”

      “Close enough,” he told her. “The city depends on the tourism dollars and the gala the Jarrods sponsor is a big part of that. As one of the Jarrods, you’re right in the middle of this one.”

      Her eyes went wide, but she nodded and said,

      “Tell me.”

      Again, he had to admire how she was able to go with the flow. She was strong, but she had the tendency to bend, not break. Most of the women he’d known in his life would still be sitting in San Francisco trying to come to terms with everything she’d dealt with in the last few days. Not Erica Prentice though. Once her decision was made, she gave it her all.

      For a tiny thing, she was formidable.

      Her gaze was locked on him and he found himself getting distracted by those amber depths. By the way she chewed at her bottom lip when she was thinking. Hell, he was distracted by her, period.

      Grumbling to himself, his voice was brusque and businesslike as he said, “Your brother Trevor is the marketing expert. He’s been running his own company right here in Aspen for years. Now, he’s taking over the marketing for Jarrod Ridge.”

      “Big job.”

      “It is,” he said, “and so is yours. You’ll be the new head of the Ridge’s PR department.”

      When she looked startled, he added, “You’ll be working with Trevor directly on most of it. You’ll have your own office at the Manor, so you’ll be on site more often than Trevor. The two of you will probably see a lot of each other over the next few weeks.”

      “Won’t that be fun.”

      Worry had crept into her voice again and he reminded her, “Trevor’s pretty laid-back. He’s not going to be a hard-ass, so nothing to worry about there.”

      She took a deep breath. “Hope you’re right about that.”

      “I am. Just as I’m right about thinking you’ll handle yourself well here.”

      “Right into the deep end then?”

      “Any reason to think you can’t swim?” Christian asked and watched as she seemed to consider his question.

      Finally, she shook her head, gave him a fierce, bright smile and said, “I’ll swim.”

      “I bet you will,” he said, staring at her as she picked up her leather-backed menu and perused the offerings. He wished to hell he didn’t find her more and more intriguing with every passing minute. What was it about this one small, curvy woman that had his body tied up in knots and his brain overheating?

      Was it the lure of the unattainable?

      He didn’t think so. There had been plenty of women when he was younger who had been out of his league. A townie kid with a single mom didn’t really have the means to play in the ball games of the rich and famous. But he wasn’t that kid anymore and he could have the pick of any woman he wanted.

      What he couldn’t figure out was why that didn’t seem to matter.

      The one woman he wanted was also the one woman he couldn’t have.

      Two hours later, Erica was alone in her suite. Sunset was deepening into twilight but here in her rooms, the lamplight was bright and she was too wrapped up in what she was doing to even notice the end of her first day in Colorado. Christian had gone back to work after their early meal—excusing himself as quickly as possible with a claim of having to get some work done before morning. Once she was on her own, Erica had done a little exploring.

      Now, she sat on the couch in her new living room and looked at all of the magazines, books, postcards and brochures she had spread out around her. She’d practically bought out the gift shop downstairs, buying up every item she could find pertaining directly to Jarrod Ridge.

      And there had been plenty to choose from. The brochures listed every activity to be found at the resort and the book described the history of the place. She’d stared at the black-and-white photos of her grandparents and biological father with a fascination that had kept her captive for nearly twenty minutes. The grainy images of men in worn jeans and cowboy hats were so far removed from the tidy heritage she’d grown up hearing about, it was fascinating. She’d looked for resemblances between the people in those old pictures and herself and she’d found them. The shape of her eyes, the curve of her mouth. It was odd to see something of herself in people she had never met.

      Yet in a weird way, it was almost comforting.

      Her family was bigger than she’d ever imagined. They had been adventurers, dreamers. Men and women who had come to the middle of nowhere and built a life, a legacy that had lasted. Their dreams had grown and blossomed and had become something very special.

      And she was a part of it.

      A very small link in a lengthy chain.

      When a knock sounded on her door, she was at first surprised, then a second later, a little worried about who might be dropping by. But then, she thought, it might be Christian. He might have decided to come back and take her on a little tour of the hotel. That thought spurred her off the couch and toward the front door. She fluffed her hair, smoothed her shirt and smiled to herself at the prospect of being with him again.

      But when she opened the door, there was a woman standing there, holding two bottles of wine.

      “Red or white?” she asked, walking past Erica into the living room.

      “I’m sorry?” Confused, Erica just watched her.

      “Red or white? Which do you prefer?”

      “Uh, that depends, I guess …”

      The woman grinned at her. “Good answer. I’m your sister, Melissa. And I’ve just stolen some wine from our brother Guy’s private reserve so that you and I can get to know each other.”

      Hard to feel out of sorts or uncomfortable with Melissa Jarrod beaming goodwill toward her. Although the woman did manage to make Erica feel a little frumpy in her wrinkled clothes. Melissa was wearing sleek black jeans, an off the shoulder, silk turquoise top and black sandals that were really nothing more than three slinky straps and a three-inch heel. Her long blond hair hung loose down her back and her wide blue eyes were sparkling with challenge and welcome.

      “You stole the wine from Guy?” Erica repeated, closing the door, then turning to face her sister.

      “Sure did. There may be hell to pay tomorrow, but tonight, we party.”

      “That actually sounds like a great plan,” Erica said, СКАЧАТЬ