Taming the Moguls (3 page)

He’d known her and studied her for months. He
knew the curve of her cheek, the delicate line of her neck, and
could guess the depth of the divot between her collarbones to the
millimeter. She liked to be coaxed into a kiss, but she would drop
her guard at the first brush of his lips. He would finally know
more. He would learn everything. Lyle stilled her frantic hands as
they shoved at his coat. “Erica.”

“Is something wrong?” she panted. “I’m doing
something wrong.”

“No, you’re perfect. I’ve waited so long for
you, for this kind of love. I don’t want to rush. I want this to be
as perfect as you are.”

“You say the most amazing things. I don’t
know what I ever did to deserve you.”

“Words are easy and so woefully inadequate,”
he said.

“Woefully?”

“Just go with me. Let me show you how you
make me feel. Let me show you what I don’t have the words to
say.”

Her complete surrender told him everything.
He felt more alive, more the man he wanted to be. Strong. She was
so strong, so fierce and full of passion. He wanted to feed that
passion, own it, make it his. He unbuttoned her coat and pulled it
from her shoulders. His hands found the zipper at her back, and
slowly, with agonizing care, he peeled away the burgundy dress that
hugged her curves. She stood before him in black lace and heels,
and he thought he’d never seen beauty so flawlessly captured.
“Erica, you take my breath away.”

“Touch me. I can’t stand for wanting
you.”

He glided a fingertip along her neck and down
between the valley of her breasts. He was surprised he hadn’t left
a trail of smoke in his wake; her skin felt so hot to his touch.
She quivered when he twisted the clasp of her bra, and the cups
loosened as her chest heaved with every breath. He nudged the
straps aside with his teeth and didn’t try to stop the black lace
from falling to the floor. He lowered his mouth to feed on her
hardened peaks while his hands slipped beneath her panties and
molded her silken skin to his hips.

She moaned his name. She pushed his suit coat
to the floor and yanked at his shirt, desperate to find flesh. As
the first button gave, her passion, never fully set free, erupted.
She wrenched open the shirt, buttons flying, and devoured him with
her hands and her clever, sharp-witted tongue. His belt was next,
flung across the room and landing with a clatter. He backed her
into the bedroom and onto the bed, shedding his pants along the
way. As he settled over her, her hair cascading over her shoulders
and onto his pillow, he knew he’d never forget her like that. Just
like that.

“I love you,” he said as he slipped inside
her waiting heat.

She bowed up, sucked in a breath, and opened
her eyes. Their gazes locked. “I love you.”

Chapter 5

Shiloh Woodward sat at her parents’ scarred
kitchen table picking at a gash she’d put there in middle school.
She’d slammed her backpack onto the thick oak not long after Kevin
Woodward had moved into the valley and ignored her for the better
part of seventh grade. Considering how he’d ignored her lately, she
felt tempted to hack the table to bits with her bare hands.

“Quit picking at that spot and tell me what
happened,” her mother said. “I’ve given you two days to hide out
and sulk, but I’m at my limit.”

“Oh, Mama,”—Shiloh dropped her forehead onto
her arms—“It’s Kevin.”

“Honey, when you came home for Thanksgiving
alone, I knew that much. What’d he do?”

“What hasn’t he done?” She sat up, hoping to
find that her vague answer had appeased her mother. She should have
known better. “We’ve been fighting. A lot.”

“About?”

“Money, mostly.”

“I thought you were doing pretty well since
you just bought a house.”

“The house was my idea. Kevin wanted to wait.
That’s his answer to everything. Wait to get married, wait to have
kids, wait to buy a house.”

“Two out of three’s not bad.”

“The house took a big chunk of our savings.
All of it, really. It needed some work…Well, you know that. You’ve
seen it.”

“It’s big and pretty and in the part of town
you wanted. I warned you not to get in over your heads.”

“Kevin was nervous, but I talked him into
it.” Like she always did. He always gave in to whatever she wanted.
Was it crazy for her to want him to say no and mean it every once
in a while? “When I started buying things for the house and trying
to make changes, he freaked out. He’s been freaking out on a
regular basis since we bought it.”

“Okay…” Regina stretched the word out in a
way that told Shiloh to go on.

“So we’ve been fighting about money, and
things at work have been really stressful for him. They’re laying
off some pilots, and Kevin’s concerned he’s next.”

“I didn’t know he could lose his job.”

Shiloh nodded and stood up. She couldn’t sit
still while telling her mother the details of their last encounter.
“He had a meeting with his boss. He was all worked up about it, and
he told me to be prepared for the worst. Making the mortgage
payments on my salary alone would never work, so he had me freaked
out, too. I called him as he was heading into the meeting to wish
him luck, and he was short with me. He asked me not to call again.
I got huffy—which was my right! He’d been downright rude on the
phone. I left my office to go home.

“I was distracted, and it was dark. Something
ran out in front of my car, and I swerved to miss it. I ended up
blowing a tire. I didn’t know what to do. I mean, I’ve never
changed a tire. I did the first thing that came to mind.”

“You called your husband,” Regina
offered.

“Yes, only he didn’t answer. So I called him
again. And again. I couldn’t believe I was stranded on the side of
the road, and he couldn’t even bother to pick up the phone.”

“Who’d you call next?”

“No one. A car pulled up, and a man in a
business suit got out. He looked kind of familiar, and he asked if
we had recently moved into Summer Heights. I guess he’d seen me out
walking or something. He called a tow truck because it wasn’t safe
to change a tire along the highway, and then he gave me a ride
home. I was so grateful and relieved.”

“Thank God he came along when he did,” Regina
said, clutching her chest. “I’ve got half a mind to wring Kevin’s
neck for not answering your call.”

“Then you’ll really want to wring his neck
when I tell you what he did next.”

Her mother set her coffee cup down.
“What?”

“He pulled up to the house just as I was
getting out of Mike’s car.”

“Mike’s the neighbor who helped you?”

“Yes. Kevin took one look and assumed I’d
been sleeping with him! I’ve never cheated on him, never even
looked at another man, and the first thing he thinks is that I’ve
been unfaithful? Well, I lost it. We stood in the driveway yelling
at each other. We basically voiced every grievance we’ve had with
each other in the last eleven years before I stomped inside and
packed a bag.”

“Is that why you’re driving his car?”

“Yes. Mine was at the shop. For all I know,
he’s stranded back in Denver.”

“Okay, so you had a fight.”

“Mama, it was more than a fight. A fight is
arguing about replacing the carpet or upgrading the appliances.
This was so much worse.” Shiloh clung to the counter and looked out
the window. “The things he said…I had no idea he felt so…drained by
me. I’ve never felt so useless and small.”

“Oh, baby.” Regina came to her, wrapping an
arm around Shiloh’s shoulders, and pulled her into a solid hug.
“Marriage has ups and downs. You and Kevin have been together for
so long, I thought you’d bypassed some of this stuff. I guess you
didn’t.”

“I’m afraid he doesn’t love me anymore.”

Regina turned Shiloh to look at her. “He
doesn’t know how not to love you. You were children when you fell
in love. You’re trying to figure out how to be in love as adults.
It takes some doing.”

“He hasn’t called. He hasn’t even tried to
reach me. I think he’s giving up.”

“Are you? Because there are two people in a
marriage.”

Shiloh sighed. “I don’t know what I
feel.”

“Maybe he’s giving you both time to figure it
out. When you’ve taken the time, I have a feeling you’ll find
yourselves back together.”

Chapter 6

Tommy sat at his desk at Golden Mountain
Sports and finished his third cup of coffee. He’d gone through the
online ski rental reservations, set a schedule for delivery, and
organized the helmet cameras. As he filled out the local
newspaper’s online help wanted form for his waitress position, he
wondered again if he should just bite the bullet and look for a
restaurant manager so he didn’t have to deal with the headache of
running the Golden Tap anymore.

Tommy loved business, but there was something
about owning and operating the restaurant he couldn’t appreciate.
His seasonal businesses were perfect because just when one became
tedious and boring, the season would end and it was time to open
the other. In April, when he could barely stand to fit another boot
to ski bindings, the sun would melt the snow and he could focus on
rafting and fishing. But the restaurant was constant—a constant
drain. It made money and provided a vital resource to the town, but
he hated the day-to-day operations.

His email dinged, and since he was looking
for any excuse not to focus on the restaurant, he shook his mouse
to dislodge the screen saver. Then he scowled at the monitor. Why
in the hell would Robert Holcomb, the man hell bent on destroying
Bear Stream and turning it into the equivalent of a ski Disney
Land, send him an email? He pursed his lips and scratched at the
hair poking out from the bottom of his sock cap. Sucking in a
breath, he clicked on the email and read. Feelings of dread settled
in his stomach and made another cup of coffee seem unlikely. Damn.
It was only a matter of time.

A sharp rapping on his door had his head
whipping up. Without invitation, Patrick Garrity strode inside and
sat down in Tommy’s guest chair. Patrick’s somber look made Tommy
wonder if he weren’t the only one to hear from Holcomb.

“Did you get one, too?” Tommy asked.

“What?”

“An email from Holcomb. Did you get it?”

“You got an email from Holcomb?” Patrick
asked. “What’d it say?”

“He’s sending someone down to the valley. He
wants us to meet with his flunky.”

“Hell no,” Patrick said without delay.

Tommy sat back and stared at the other man.
Patrick Garrity had the maturity and passion of a man half his age.
In his mid-forties, Patrick’s close-cut, dark-blond hair was
peppered with streaks of gray. The local farmer resembled his
conservative lawyer father in stature and not much else.

“The fact that he wants to meet means we’re
making a dent,” Tommy said. “I don’t expect anything to come of it,
but there’s no reason to say no. He’s a professional who wants
something. We’re a group of professionals who want the opposite.
Ignoring the invitation wouldn’t be very professional.”

“You meet with Holcomb, and folks around here
will think you’re a turncoat.”

Tommy let out a breath through his teeth.
“Don’t you think you’re exaggerating just a bit?”

“Do you want to take the chance I’m not?”

“He’s feeling the heat from STS. Maybe he’s
willing to compromise. We’ve said all along that a smaller, more
manageable development is something we’d consider.”

“I don’t trust him, Tommy. Holcomb’s tried to
manipulate the Forest Service, county officials, and everyone
associated with the environmental impact statement. What makes you
think he won’t do the same to us?”

“We can’t be swayed by empty promises and
threats. We aren’t faceless bureaucrats with nothing to lose; we
represent the people of the valley who don’t want this development
to go through.”

“I don’t know…”

“Patrick, he wouldn’t ask for a meeting if he
didn’t consider us a stumbling block. This could be good news.”

Patrick scrubbed his chin. “It doesn’t feel
like good news.”

“I’m going to sit on this for a day or so,
but I’m inclined to say yes. I suggest you think about it, too.
I’ll call your dad, get his take before I respond.”

“He’s not going to like it.”

“We’ll see.” Tommy sat back in his chair and
it squeaked. “Is there a reason you came by?”

“The Hailey High ski club wants to do another
ski-a-thon fundraiser. They were wondering if you’d throw in a few
boards for prizes?”

“A few?”

Patrick pursed his lips. “Two, maybe three if
you’re feeling generous.”

“I’m already providing breakfast at the Tap,
and I’m a gold sponsor.” In Tommy’s book, that was pretty damn
generous. “Can’t Pat Jr. hit up any other businesses?”

“He’s not real good at asking people he
doesn’t know.”

But he didn’t mind asking Tommy for
everything. “I’ll give two.”

“Good enough.” Patrick stood and stretched
his back. “I’d better get going. You let me know what you decide
about that meeting. I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I’m going to think on it a while, but I’ll
let you know.”

As Patrick stepped out and closed the door,
Tommy wondered if the members of STS would have the same reaction
as Patrick. As president of the group and the person who’d spent
the most time and money promoting STS, Tommy thought his opinion
weighed more than the others.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t understand
Holcomb’s interest in developing Bear Stream. As the ski area with
Colorado’s most annual snowfall and one of the few undeveloped
lifts in the state, Bear Stream was a target for anyone with money
and resources. Holcomb had plenty of both. The fact that Holcomb
had used his money and influence to try to skirt around the
residents’ concerns was, as far as Tommy was concerned, business as
usual. Most locals deemed it underhanded and manipulative. On any
given day, Holcomb’s attempt to move the development forward
flirted with unethical. Tommy’s dad had taught him a thing or two
about dealing with ethics in business.