CA 35 Christmas Past (3 page)

           
Fewell
looked from one to the other. “You’ve got to be kidding?
In
the whole city?
That doesn’t seem possible.”

           
Victory sent a rush of
adrenaline through Molly’s veins.
“Told you.”

           
He glared at her. “You
said there were no other rooms
here.
”

           
“I said,”
she
countered, “there aren’t any available.
Period.
Believe
me,
I was happy to
get this room, even though I didn’t really want to fork over the cost of a
suite.”

           
Fewell
turned back to the lodge staff. “There’s an easy solution to this.” Fury
simmered in his tone. “Just check your system and see who was first—”

           
“Are you out of your
mind?” Molly demanded. He was determined, she would give him that. “I was
already in the suite when you arrived.”

           
The staff’s collective
gazes swung from Molly to
Fewell
in anticipation of
what he would say next. It was their job to ensure all guests were satisfied
with the accommodations and the service. This predicament was unacceptable…and
completely beyond their control.

           
“I mean,”
Fewell
rasped, “who made the reservation first. Surely
that’s annotated somewhere in the reservation system.”

           
“Actually,” the
reservation clerk ventured, his hands wringing, “I already checked that. And it
seems the reservations were made—” he moistened his lips “—simultaneously.”

           
Disbelief claimed
Fewell’s
face. “Is that even possible?”

           
“I’ve never seen it
happen before,” the manager hastened to assure, “but it does appear to have
occurred in this instance.” He shook his head grimly. “Madam, sir, I do
apologize. I can offer you both a complimentary stay at some other time. But
there’s simply nothing more I can offer at the moment. One of you will have to
accede to the other. We will gladly attempt to find other lodging in a nearby
village.”

           
“I’m not leaving,”
Molly
announced,
her words in perfect time with the
exact ones
Fewell
uttered.

           
They stared at each
other.

           
“We’ll leave this to
the two of you to resolve,” the manager offered. “Again, you have our sincerest
apologies.”

           
The three men were out
the door before the announcement stopped echoing in the room.

           
Molly would have to
call her friend and thank him. His little visit into the lodge’s reservation
system had not only worked like a charm but had been completely undetectable.
As pleased as she was that her old high school buddy’s hacking skills were so
primo, it was a rather scary thought. Good thing he was one of the good guys.

           
“All
right.”
Fewell
set his hands on his hips in
finality. “What’s it going to cost me to get this room, Ms. Clark?”

           
Molly adopted a
properly outraged expression. “Who do you think you are? This is my room, fair
and square. You cannot buy me off, Mr.
Fewell
.”

           
“Ten thousand dollars,”
he announced. “That’s as high as I’ll go.”

           
Her eyes widened. Was
he for real? “You’re out of your mind. Just because you’re evidently rich
doesn’t mean you can push the little people around. It took me all year to save
up for this vacation. I’ve always wanted to do Christmas in Aspen. I’m not
about to ditch it all for a guy who can take a fancy vacation anytime he
chooses. No way. The room is mine.”

           
That hit the spot she’d
hoped for. His fury seemed to rush out of him as quickly as it had come.

           
“I’m sorry. I didn’t
mean that the way it sounded.” He plowed his fingers through his hair. “You’re
right. That wouldn’t be fair to you.”

           
She was almost there.
“Look.” She took a big breath. “We should be rational about this. We’re both
adults. It’s a huge suite.” She spread her arms wide apart in emphasis.
“There’s no reason we can’t share. I’ll bet the lodge will even let us have the
place for free, considering the obvious error.”

           
He was shaking his head
before she finished speaking. “I can’t do that.”

           
She looked him up and
down as if he’d just insulted her. “Why? If I’m willing to share the space,
what makes you above my company?”

           
He closed his eyes,
heaved a disgusted breath. When he met her gaze once more, he said, “My
presence here may become an issue…If the press hears about it, there could be a
less-than-comfortable situation.”

           
Her mouth dropped open
in an oh-my-god reaction. She looked him up and down once more. “You
are
some TV personality.”

           
He held up both hands.
“Not a TV personality.”

           
“You don’t look like
any politician I’ve ever seen.” Her gaze tapered as if assessing her memory
banks. “Are you that big Wall Street guy suspected of embezzling all that
money?”

           
Now he was the one
wearing the oh-my-god face.

           
“Right.
Right.”
She shook her head. “He’s way older than you.
But with all the
Botox
you
celebs
use, who can tell?”

           
“My name’s Jason
Fewell
,” he explained since the lodge staff had addressed
him as Mr.
Fewell
. “You really don’t know who I am?”

           
She shrugged. “Sorry.
Never heard of any Jason
Fewell
.”
Her brow furrowed as she feigned further consideration. “How do you spell
that?”

           
He waved her off.
“Never mind.
I’m a NASCAR driver.”

           
“NASCAR.
Oh.” She nodded knowingly.

           
“Oh? You’re not a fan?”

           
“Well.” She laughed,
going for the appearance of embarrassment. “I mean, if you’re asking if I watch
the races, I’d have to say no. I mean, I’m not really into all that
for show
competition stuff.”

           
He let the roundabout
insult pass.
“Got it.”

           
“So…reporters follow
you around?”

           
A skeptical look shot
her way. “Not all the time.” He shrugged those broad shoulders.

           
She frowned.

           
“Never
mind.”
He threw up his hands again. “Let’s just get past that, okay?”

           
“Why did you pick
Aspen?” Molly dropped on the sofa. She was starved. She hadn’t eaten since well
before lunch and it was nearing six now. “A guy like you could go anywhere. I
guess you like to ski.”

           
The pain that blanketed
his face made her gut tighten. Oh, yeah. This guy was still deeply disturbed by
the three-year-old tragedy. One would expect the memory to still be a tender
one, but if in fact it had slowly but surely started to paralyze him on a
personal level, that was a whole different issue. And not the normal course of
the grief process.

           
“I used to. My first
love is climbing.”

           
A smile tilted her
lips.
“Me, too.
I’m here to climb. Forget the skiing,
that’s for all those people who don’t have the courage to go after the real
adrenaline rush.”

           
He stared at her for a
long moment, his expression completely unreadable. “I don’t know if this
arrangement you’re proposing will work, Ms. Clark.”

           
She had to tread
carefully here. She didn’t want to scare him off. “To be honest, I won’t be
here much. I have a full itinerary planned. By the time I come to the room at
night I’ll probably just collapse in bed. You’ll hardly know I’m here.”

           
“But there’s only one
bed.” He jerked his head toward the bedroom.

           
“But there’s the couch.
It makes a bed.
Looks expensive so it’ll probably be
comfortable.
And there are two bathrooms.
One in here
with a shower and then the larger one in there with the soaking tub.”

           
He walked over to the
wall of windows and stared out.

           
At least he hadn’t said
no…yet.

           
Molly joined him at the
window, not getting too close. The view over the gorgeous village was awesome.
“Look, Mr.
Fewell
. I waited a long time for this
vacation. And you seem to have your own reasons for needing to be here. Let’s
just make the best of it. We’ll hardly see each other. If you get friendly with
a lady, you’ll just have to go back to her room. I’ll do the same.”

           
He smiled as he turned
to her. “You get friendly with the ladies?”

           
That was the first real
smile she’d seen, and man-oh-man was it something. The cameras did not do that
smile justice. “You know what I mean.”

           
“Where are you from,
Molly Clark?”

           
“Chicago.” That was
where she lived right now. She didn’t dare tell him she had three brothers
living just down the road. The oldest was in Denver now.

           
“What do you do in
Chicago?”

           
Now he wanted to check
her out, did he?
“Research.”

           
“What kind of
research?” A flicker of suspicion darkened those blue eyes.

           
“For companies who need
background checks on people.” She bit her bottom lip. That was part of her job,
so she wasn’t telling a total lie. “I’m not really supposed to talk about it,
though.”

           
He nodded. “Okay.” His
gaze collided with hers once more. “You don’t have a boyfriend or husband who’s
going to make something out of this?”

           
“Nope.
Never been married and probably never will. I don’t really trust men.”

           
A frown etched its way
across his brow. “You don’t trust men, and yet you’re willing to share this
suite with me?”

           
“I don’t trust men as
boyfriends and husbands. Considering you’re a big celebrity and all, I figure
you’ll behave yourself. Otherwise I might cause you a lot of bad publicity.
That would not be in your favor.”

           
“Definitely
not.”

           
“So you respect my
space, and I’ll respect yours, and we’ll get through this just fine.”

           
“I have to consider
what the media would make of this arrangement,” he countered.

           
“Discretion is my
middle name,” she assured him.
“Deal?”
She thrust out
her hand.

           
He hesitated only a
moment before closing his hand around hers.
“Deal.”

           
That was the moment she
realized that she’d made a serious tactical error.

           
The tingle that
accompanied those long fingers wrapping around hers buzzed right up her arm and
seemed to ignite along every nerve ending.

           
She, Molly Clark, who
had kicked the butt of any boy who’d ever tried to get fresh with her, was
attracted to this guy.

           
Impossible.

           
It never mattered how
cute a guy was or how charming. She was, of course, a woman and on some level
acknowledged those assets. But not once had she ever experienced a truly
visceral reaction to any man.