Zach picked up the opened bottled water and sipped. “And yet…here you are. Your dad only threw you out—but you’ve topped him. You’ve got a whole town out on their ears.”
Slumping onto the couch, Dominic put his head in his hands. “So…what? I’m supposed to stop doing business?”
Coming over, Zach nudged Dominic’s shoulder with the green glass bottle. “When was the last time you took a vacation? You have ten houses and you live in hotels. You do know there’s more to life than money.”
Dominic took the sparkling water from him. “I’ve got nuts shooting at me, girls inviting themselves into my hotel rooms, and deals showing up in my in box without my asking. Why would I want to leave all that behind?”
“Then disappear.”
“What? Like Elvis?”
Zach pulled a face. “Elvis died. I’m thinking more Howard Hughes. You need to get your head on straight—and I think it’s about time you found out a few things. You need to get away.”
Dominic pulled a long drink from the bottle. The idea of not being Dominic McCarthy—well, not THE Dominic McCarthy sparked an appeal he couldn’t deny. He knew Zach had stayed sane with his ranch—hell, the man spent most of his time there these days. Dominic shook his head. “Things like…?”
Zach shrugged. “The price of bread…maybe.”
And if I really am becoming my old man, Dominic thought. He stood up and handed the water back to Zach. “And where can I go where my face won’t light up the news and have hands reaching for my wallet?”
Zach smiled. “I think I know just the place. Lucy found it. But you’re going to have to leave it all behind—the money, the image, the name.”
Dominic stretched and smiled. “Right now, that sounds like a slice of heaven.”
Chapter One
The massive timber front door gave the loud bang that came so often during ski season that you forgot to listen to it. This time of year, without any snow on the ground just yet, the sound had Paris jumping.
Michael, her bartender, leaned closer to her. “Looks like an answer to our prayers.”
She glanced at him, one eyebrow lifted. “No one ever books into a ski lodge when there’s no snow, Michael. That’s why we’ve got to change things. It seems like first snow comes later and later.”
He gave her a grin, a wink, and nodded to the lobby. “Guess no one’s standing over there and looking for a room then.”
She shook her head. “The guy’s probably lost and looking for directions.” But she headed for the lobby.
The lodge still looked more ski resort and less like the retreat Paris wanted to create. Lots of wood, a huge stone fireplace, lush leather chairs. Her late husband had spared no expense on the place, but sometimes Paris looked around and thought about how many kids would have been fed had the money been put to better use.
She still thought the place could be put to far better use—but right now she was struggling to figure out just how to handle the books, and had given most of the staff the month off. A fall without snow was not their busy time of year. So who had just stepped into the lobby?
Paris watched the man. His suit looked expensive—just like what Jack had always worn to impress others. His suitcase had a designer tag, and the shining, leather shoes just made her itch to kick the guy out. She was so tired of playing nursemaid to the rich and spoilt—they all came here with attitudes and often left wreckage behind.
A year of running this place had taught her that a ski resort for the rich was not what she wanted to do with the inheritance Jack had left her. She was going to do better! And maybe this guy was her first start at that—something about him made her think of a lost puppy. Maybe it was just those big eyes.
He looked at his hand as he walked, holding a phone she presumed. No staring at the sheer enormity of the inside of the lodge with its cathedral ceiling of solid natural timbers. No gazing out the floor to ceiling windows at the neighboring imposing mountains looming skyward. None of the usual reactions at all. And that was weird. He also chewed on a lush lower lip as if he wasn’t certain.
When he was almost at the desk, she caught a drift of his cologne. The rich, spicy-sweet aroma thrummed a chord deep inside her. Her shields went up at once. The last time she’d fallen for a guy who’d smelled that good, she’d found herself trapped in a cozy, gilded cage. She didn’t ever want to be there again. She’d learned to value her freedom. But the lodge was about all that was left of that life—and there wasn’t any harm in looking at a good-looking guy.
He was tall enough that she had to look up at him. Broad shoulders filled out his suit jacket and he’d left off a tie, so she caught a glimpse of corded muscles and a hint of curling dark chest hair. He still hadn’t looked up from his Smartphone, his manicured thumb flicked over the screen. “Goddamn, stupid contraption. I swear to God…”
“Can I help you, sir?”
He never bothered to look up. “What’s your best room? I’ll need it for a few weeks.”
She swallowed. Hard. He had a voice that could lure any girl into sin—a deep tenor that had a faint purr to it. She also knew she could manage a guest for a few nights—but a few weeks? She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but we’re not staffed for a long stay right now.”
He looked up at last. Annoyance lit his eyes, but that changed to a half-lidded appreciative gaze that knocked the breath from her lungs. His bright blue eyes, framed by curled dark lashes, locked onto hers. Suddenly, he was all charm and smiles, and Paris fought the tug of attraction.
He leaned one elbow on the counter. “I can make my own bed. And I don’t mind sandwiches. My car’s parked outside and I’m dead tired of driving. So…how about a room?”