He returned and handed her the glass, then perched on the arm of the sofa. “I have many plans. I think revamping the hotel is going to be fun.”
Fun? Her heart sank further. Great. He was charming, handsome. There was no denying it. He was also the first man she’d responded to physically ever since leaving Toronto. Her eyes narrowed. Acknowledging his good looks meant nothing except that she still had eyes to see with. Taking her livelihood in his hands for fun didn’t sit well.
“Don’t you think those sorts of decisions should be examined, weighed?”
“What’s the fun in that?” His lips tipped up as he sipped his wine. “Aren’t you going to have any? I brought it with me. It’s Nico—the vineyards of my best friend, Dante Nicoletti. You’ll like it, it’s a fine Montepulciano. And it’s a staple on all Fiori lists.”
She dutifully sipped and looked down as the rich flavour surrounded her tongue. Oh, it was nice. Very nice. But that was hardly the point.
“I take my job seriously, Mr. Fiori. It’s not something to enjoy on a whim.”
“Sometimes whims are the very best things.” He smiled disarmingly and she found she actually had to work at not being charmed. Damn him!
She sipped again, sliding further back in the chair and crossing her legs. “I like what I do.” Would she have called it fun? Probably not. But it gave her a sense of accomplishment. Working in a hotel in the majesty of the Rockies suited her wallflower qualities to a tee. She could glimpse the fairy tale while still being able to watch from the sidelines. She felt protected and yet had room to breathe. But fun?
She wasn’t sure she knew what fun was.
“But that’s not the same thing. Tell me, Mari, what drives you? What makes you get up in the morning?”
The fact that I can.
She pushed the automatic answer away. She didn’t have to justify her choices to him. He didn’t need to know how she’d had a narrow escape, how it could have turned out so very differently years earlier.
“This isn’t about me, it’s about what’s going to happen to this hotel. Paul Verbeek resigned when you bought the hotel. How much more is going to change? Staff is already upset at the possibility of change and insecurity. If I start handing out layoff notices, morale’s going to take a serious dip.”
“That’s the first thing you’ve said that I agree with.”
She bristled. He waltzed in here and after what, four hours? Decided she was wrong about just about everything. She knew how to do her job and she did it well, despite being new at it. This was going to be another case of owners sending in an emissary, turning everything upside down, then leaving the mess for local management to clean up. She sighed. Everything had been going fine. Why did this have to happen now?
“I don’t know what to say. We obviously have differing opinions, yet I have no wish to cause any discord. You’re the boss.” She folded her hands. One of them had to keep a logical head.
“Describe The Cascade in three words.”
She squeezed her left fingers in her right hand. “Are you serious?”
“Perfectly. What are the first three words you think of when you think of this hotel?”
“Efficient. Class. Profitable.” She shot the words out confidently. She prided herself—and the hotel—on them. It was the image she tried to portray every day.
He stopped pacing and sighed. “I was afraid of that.”
“What’s wrong with that? We have an efficient staff, an elegant establishment, and we make a profit. You should be happy with all those things.”
“Come here.” He went to the balcony door again and slid it open. She followed, bringing the wine with her and cradling her glass in her hands. What on earth was he doing now?
“Look out over there.”
The afternoon was waning and the sun’s rays filtered through trees and shadows. Goosebumps rose on her skin at the chill in the air and she shivered.
“Just a minute,” he murmured, disappearing back inside.
When he returned he draped a soft blanket over her shoulders and took the glass out of her hands. She exhaled, releasing the knot between her shoulders at his casual touch.
“Now look. And tell me, what do you see?”
“The valley, poplar trees, the river.”
“No, Mari.”