Boom (6 page)

The snow was coming down as hard as ever as Quinn ducked through the sliding glass doors of Whiteout Mountain’s main resort building. Passing through the vestibule—the anteroom where guests could kick off the worst of the snow on the corrugated rubber mats underfoot—he moved through the set of automatic interior doors, shrugging out of his coat as he went.

He loved walking into the resort. To him, it was walking into his dreams.

The cavernous interior of the lobby had balconies on all four floors looking down into it, and with the railings, walls, stairs and floors done in highly polished wood treated to look as though it had been aged to a golden patina, the lobby had the ambiance of a luxury mountain home. Outlining the main seating area were resin recreations of massive redwood trunks, and they rose all the way to the ceiling decorated with geometric skylights. While redwoods weren’t indigenous to that part of the country, they were his favorite features of the lobby, closely followed by the sunlit atrium separating the conference wing from the main building.

It had taken two years of his life to build this, his dream on Whiteout Mountain. Two years of relying on courage he hadn’t known he had as he sank every penny he had into it. Two years of unbelievable sacrifice and gut-wrenching loss. He’s expected the sacrifice; he’d been prepared to lose his shirt financially, even if the thought made his blood run cold.

But the loss…

That had surprised the hell out of him, and not it a good way. For a long time that loss had been devastating. Crippling, even.

But he’d survived.

Grim-faced, Quinn hardened his heart when the first stirrings of pain tried to ooze its way to the surface. Fuck them, he thought viciously. Fuck them all, the haters who hadn’t supported what he’d needed to do with his life. When he’d first started out on this project two years ago, he’d had a family as well as a girlfriend who’d been in and out of his life since high school. He’d assumed that they were the people who could always be counted on to be there.

Now he knew better.

That was fine. He didn’t need people he couldn’t count on. He didn’t need
anyone
. He’d built his dream alone, and in two weeks his dream would finally become a reality. Whiteout Mountain would be open to the public.

He couldn’t wait.

Couldn’t wait for his dream to be realized.

Couldn’t wait for Lorette and all his so-called
family
to go fuck themselves.

“Uncle Alex.” Rounding the front desk, Quinn came up to fifty-something Alex Muir, a big, burly man with sandy-gray curly hair that needed a trim, and half-glasses perched on his nose. A frown etched itself between the older man’s bushy brows as he counted a stack of boxes and checked things off on a clipboard he held. “Please tell me everything came in yesterday, ‘cause there’s nothing going up or down this mountain for the next couple of days. It’s brutal out there.”

“You got it, bud. The last shipment of pro shop stuff that we’ve been expecting came right before the storm hit. That means Emma is going to start earning her keep around here and learning what the word
inventory
means.”

“Sounds good.” Quinn had serious doubts about whether his young cousin, a high school senior who’d never had a job in her life, was ready to do a day’s work for a day’s pay, but he was willing to give her a chance. Considering that many on the Kingfisher side of his family had decided he was now dead to them, he had to take what he could get.

Again the bitter fury tried to rise up like the poison it was. He froze everything inside him until he felt nothing. That anger wouldn’t own him, or distract him. The only thing he’d ever allow it to be was the fuel that fired his determination to accomplish everything he’d set out to do.

Success, as far as he was concerned, would be his greatest revenge on everyone who’d left him like he was nothing.

“I hear you took a delivery early this morning yourself.”

That brought his attention back to his uncle. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Khrys, down at the diner.”

He should have known. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Said you were getting mighty cozy with one of those plane people that got stuck here—a redhead that was snuggled right up to you. Does Khrys have that right, or was she seeing things?”

“The lady I was with was definitely a redhead, though if you ask her, she’ll give you some crap about being a strawberry blonde.” He shrugged and ignored the fact that he hadn’t answered the question. “You haven’t seen my mother around here by any chance, have you?”

Alex pointed his pen in the direction of the offices behind the counter, his mouth pinching just a little in irritation. “She said she wanted to go over the personnel roster with you. She sounded happy, but then she usually does. So, what’s the redhead’s name? Did you really bring her here to Whiteout? Is she cute?”

“Mia Flowers, and yeah to everything else.” With a wave of farewell he made his escape to the offices, inwardly shaking his head. Maybe it was for the best the majority of his family had bailed on him, he considered as he made his way through two rows of desks to the very back, where his private office was located. The one thing he hadn’t missed these past two years was the affectionately nosy interference of a family that basically populated the northwestern portion of Montana.

“There you are.” Bright-eyed and smiling, his mother straightened from where she rested on the edge of his desk, a tablet in hand, and gave him a quick hug with her free arm. Elise Muir-Kingfisher, a product of Billings, Montana was still a statuesque blonde who could turn heads, but she had always seemed completely unaware of it. The one thing she did seem to be aware of was her much-adored husband, a fact which had amused Quinn and his older brother Brody while growing up. Now, however, it was something he did his best to ignore. “You’re going to be so thrilled. The official Housekeeping roster is now full.”

“Seriously?” Quinn couldn’t stop himself from grinning as he pulled up to the desk while she sat on the other side of it. “How’d you manage that?”

“A friend of a friend who moved here from Billings with her sister not too long ago was just right for the executive housekeeping position, and her sister decided to join us in the laundry. Now all we need is a nighttime manager with concierge experience and we’ll be all set.”

Satisfaction curled through him. Another problem checked off the list. “If we have to, I can pinch hit the graveyard concierge position until we can find someone else. You’re a freaking miracle worker.”

She beamed. “I am, aren’t I?”

“You know it. Anything else?”

“Yes.” She leaned her arms on the desk with a confidential air. “Tell me all about the redhead.”

Damn it, Khrys
. “I take it you mean Mia Flowers?”

“Oh, what a cute name. Did you really bring her all the way up here to Whiteout?”

“State Highway closed the roads by the time we headed out for the airport, so I didn’t have a choice. She’s taking being stranded on a Montana mountain really well, considering her plans were to have a quick weekend in Seattle.”

She made a sound of sympathy. “Poor thing. She must be stressed out of her mind.”

“Like I said, Mia’s taking it like a champ.” And she was. He’d expected drama worthy of a daytime soap opera, and he’d seen the emotional storm rising when he’d told Mia she wasn’t going anywhere. But she’d sucked it up, then startled the crap out of him by thanking him. She’d been suffering inside, but instead of making him pay for it, she’d fucking
thanked
him.

Lorette never would have done that. His ex would have done her best to break him in two.

His mother’s face pulled into a concerned frown. “You said she was headed to Seattle? Does she have the right clothes to wear? We don’t want her to freeze while she’s here. Though maybe she won’t be here long enough to worry about that sort of thing.”

“Let’s dig into the pro shop stuff that came in and get her about a week’s worth of clothes—turtlenecks, hoodies, jackets, whatever. Everything, really. Wait, did we order yoga pants?” Mia would look hot in yoga pants. Those mile-long legs of hers were just about the hottest damn things he’d ever seen.

She burst out laughing. “Good grief,
yoga pants
? I take it the young lady has a nice figure?”

“The best.” Since his mother was going to see Mia anyway, he might as well be honest. “Get this. She’s even taller than you are.”

“Wow, and I’ve always been a giant.”

“She can almost look me in the eye, and when she does there’s a lot to see. She’s got these pale blue eyes that are this close to looking like glacier ice. And she might be one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.” Then he thought about the reason why she was headed to Seattle. “At least in some respects.”

As he spoke, his mother’s smile grew and grew until it was a wonder it didn’t split her face. “You like her.”

He rolled his eyes. “Anyone would like Mia. She’s almost perfect.”

“Almost?”

“She thinks she’s engaged to some dude in Seattle, but there’s no ring.”

“No ring, no problem,” came the swift reply, surprising him. “All’s fair in love and war, so turn on that killer Kingfisher charm and see what happens. Oh, I can’t wait to tell your father about this.”

That shut him down like nothing else could. “Don’t. It’s none of his business, or anyone else’s, for that matter.”

Watching his mother’s smile trickle away was a sad thing to see, and Quinn laid that squarely on his father’s doorstep. “Quinn—”

“No.” He looked around his desk to make sure there were no immediate loose ends he needed deal with. It was crazy, but he had the weirdest urge to get back to Mia just to make sure she was still there. “Was there anything else?”

“Grand opening is in a couple of weeks. Why not invite your father?”

“One, because he wouldn’t come. And two, because I don’t want him on my mountain.”

She expelled an angry breath. “He’s your
father
, young man.”

“And I’m his son. But when I bought Whiteout Mountain, do you know what Dad had to say about it? Nothing. Not one frigging word. He wouldn’t even return my calls. Overnight, he went from my father and best friend to a goddamn
ghost
. I’m amazed he allows you to work here with me, he was so obviously pissed off that I didn’t follow in his footsteps and turn into a Kingfisher corporate drone like good little Brody.”

“Actually, your father is all for my working alongside you to get Whiteout Mountain up on its feet and successfully launched into the world. What does that tell you?”

“It tells me he’s smart enough to pick his battles. I’m not going to talk about Dad, or Brody, or anyone else,” he went on when she opened her mouth. “Right now there are only two things on my mind—making sure the opening of Whiteout Mountain doesn’t wipe me out financially, and making sure Mia Flowers is given everything she needs.”

Chapter Five

Mia had never wasted a ton of time thinking what it might be like inside a Presidential suite—or, in this case, chalet—but she had to admit it was the freaking
bomb
.

As soon as Brody returned from whatever errand he’d run, he wasted no time in giving her a tour of the place where she was now stranded. At three-thousand square feet, the wood and glass contemporary log and stone “cabin” was more a residential mini-mansion than part of a resort. The great room was her absolute favorite room in the place. It was dominated by a two-story high, soaring prow-like wall of windows overlooking nothing but blinding white, and Quinn assured her that the windows framed the best possible view of Whiteout Mountain itself.

A towering rock see-through fireplace separated the great room from the dining area, where another, smaller prow-shaped array of windows also looked out onto the winter whiteness. Her sharp home-staging eye would have taken out the banquet-style dining table that had an entire side to the back of the window and an end right up to the heat of the fireplace, and replaced it with a round table to optimize the focal points without losing seat numbers.

That was the only flaw she found as Quinn showed her every inch of the chalet. It was gorgeous, from the sinfully sybaritic master bath with an attached sauna, to the current mess that was Quinn’s temporary bedroom, the master bedroom, complete with another fireplace, a large flat screen TV and a mini bar.

The opulence didn’t stop there. A wooden deck jutted out beyond the prow-shaped windows, edged with racks to hold skis, making it literally a ski-in, ski-out residence. Up the open-slat stairway was a communal loft area filled with overstuffed furniture upholstered in thick woolen Native American fabric and a gaming center, another enormous bedroom with a fireplace and en-suite bath, a glass-enclosed hot tub alcove that also faced the mountain, and a soundproof theatre room with plush reclining chairs and another mini bar, this one with a microwave and a basket of microwavable popcorn waiting to be used.

“Okay, I’ll admit it,” Mia announced as she and Quinn descended the stairs into the great room, where she migrated to the warmth of the fire. “You were right again. This chalet kicks some serious booty. It might be the closest thing I’ve ever seen to heaven on earth.”

“And you’re not even seeing this country at its best.”

“You mean that dinky little polar vortex out there? Pfft.” Airily she waved a hand. “That’s nothing.”

“Nothing, huh?” Shaking his head, he came to stand with her, his gaze never leaving hers. “You’re really something, you know that? You might not be seeing my mountain at its best, but I get the feeling I’m seeing you at yours.”

Warmth that had nothing to do with the fire swept over her. “Uh… I’m sorry?”

“Earlier today, when you found out you were going to be here a while… I have to admit, I expected a grand mal shit fit from you.” Throughout the tour, he’d taken her hand whenever they’d moved to the next room, as if he feared she might somehow get lost along the way. As they stood there he did it again, and it finally dawned on her that this was simply how Quinn Kingfisher was—a touchy-feely kind of guy who had held her hand even when they’d been in the car and she’d been upset. Jackson had never been into holding hands, or having arms wound around each other as they walked. Being demonstrative simply wasn’t his way. But it was obviously Quinn’s. “I saw it in you, Red. You wanted to scream at me or cry or pitch a fit. But you sucked it up, and you thanked me instead.”

“It’s not your fault I’m here.”

“You sucked it up, and then you thanked me,” he repeated, and suddenly he seemed a whole lot closer than he had been a second ago. “You immediately set aside how you were feeling and instead thought of the people around you. You thought of me.”

“Of course I did, Boom.” She looked up into his indigo eyes, and saw there was a storm there that she didn’t understand. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You don’t even know how rare that is, do you?” His fingers tightened on hers. “You’re the one going through a first-rate shitty time in a place you never expected to be. But you pushed your own issues into the backseat, and made sure that I wasn’t stressing out. You’re a genuinely good woman, Mia Flowers.” He lifted his free hand to curl it around her nape, and brought their faces alarmingly close. “But I’m beginning to think it might be a dangerous kind of good.”

Heaven help her, she couldn’t look away from his dark eyes even if she wanted to. And she didn’t. “How can being good be dangerous?”

“It’s dangerous for
you
. You’re the kind of good that the assholes of the world will zero in on and take advantage of, and they won’t stop until they’ve sucked you dry. You’re the kind of good that gives and gives and gives. The assholes of the world see that, so they’ll take and take and take. And they won’t even thank you for all that you do. They’ll just walk away when they’ve gotten what they wanted, oblivious to the damage they’ve done. Believe me, I know.”

While she was sure he was talking about Jackson, she got the strangest feeling that maybe he was also thinking of someone else. “Quinn—”

“The assholes of the world don’t see your sacrifices, Mia. But I do, because I’m not an asshole, and I’m not oblivious to what you’re going through. I saw it when you stifled your frustration of not being able to get the hell out of here. You did it because you were trying to shelter me, to make my road smoother, but you don’t have to hide what you’re going through. It’s okay to feel whatever it is you need to feel when you’re with me.”

She bit her lip, remembering all too well how he’d freaked out when he thought she was crying. “There’s no point in being pissed off about the weather. It’s not like there’s anything you can do about it.”

“Yeah, I know there’s nothing I can do about the weather, Red, but I
can
do something about making sure you know you’re safe with me, no matter what you’re feeling. And you’ve got my word right now that I’ll never take you and your goodness for granted. I’m grateful you’re so damn good, and I appreciate how you tried to smooth my way. But you don’t have to do that with me. One way or another, we’ll get through this together.” And with that, he pulled her up to meet the descent of his mouth.

Wait, wait, wait…!

It was a quick kiss, no more than a couple of heartbeats. But in that seemingly innocuous time span, everything she knew got turned on its head.

In a world that seemed frozen over, his lips were deliciously warm. They caressed hers with unapologetic sensuality before their pressure deepened and molded to hers. Or perhaps hers molded to his, seeking out that addictive warmth. She only knew for certain that her world was filled with an intoxicating flood of giddiness and light and irresistible heat—

He lifted his head, and when she opened her eyes—when had she closed them?—he was already watching her as if she was the only thing in the room worth looking at. A grin that was made of cocky masculine satisfaction appeared before he reached up to untangle her fingers that had somehow managed to fist around his gorgeous hair.

“Now you know I wasn’t lying about the big girls pulling my hair, but it’s all good with me, Red. I like it when you do that.”

Oh, my God.

“Don’t forget to make your calls.” He kissed her forehead before heading out of the room, and his swagger made her want to throw something at him.

Like, for instance, herself.

“Wait. What was that name again? I’m Googling.”

“Honey Pot, Montana. And more specifically, Whiteout Mountain Ski Resort and Spa, scheduled to open the first day of winter.”

“Honey Pot. Holy shit, there’s an actual place called Honey Pot.” The comforting voice of Deb Shanley, Mia’s aunt, came through with surprising clarity. When Mia’s mother had vanished from her life when she was ten, Deb had stepped in to fill the void. When her father virtually forgot her existence and moved to Florida with a new wife and family when she was eighteen, Deb had become her whole world. “Okay, I’ve found you on the map. Honey Pot’s two miles northwest of Whitefish, Montana, which is sixteen miles from Glacier Park International airport. How weird that the back of beyond has an international airport.”

“Apparently this is some kind of outdoor sportsman’s paradise. Since I’ve never been out of Chicago, I wouldn’t know.”

“Yeah, you’re like me, sweets. Your idea of outdoor sports is walking the entirety of Magnificent Mile, hunting for good deals. Ooh.”

Curled up against the mountain of pillows on her bed, Mia tucked a plush throw around her icy feet. “What?”

“I like Whiteout Mountain’s website. Very pretty, very easy to navigate. Do you know who their web designer is?”

“I don’t even know where I am, Deb.”

“Look at all the amenities they’ve got going on up there. You know, if you’re going to get kidnapped, you might as well be taken to a place that offers complimentary wifi, a hot tub in every room and ninety-minute deep-tissue massages—by appointment only, of course.”

Mia perked. A massage didn’t sound half-bad. “I haven’t been kidnapped. I’ve been diverted by the airline, snowed in by Mother Nature, and saved by Quinn Kingfisher.”

“Same difference, but at least you’re surrounded by luxury in all that rugged winter wilderness. Let’s see what happens when I hit ‘About,’” Deb went on, clearly indicating a tab on the website she was perusing. “Hm. Okay, here’s what it says about your kidnapper.”

“Savior.”

“Whatever. ‘Whiteout Mountain Ski Resort and Spa is the latest endeavor of the legendary Kingfisher family.’ Hey hon, did you know they were legendary?”

“Nope. Keep reading.”

“Right. ‘Leaders in Montana’s adult gaming world with two five-star resort-casinos located in the heart of the northern Rockies, the Kingfisher name has become synonymous with luxury and hospitality. Whiteout Mountain Ski Resort and Spa is their first non-gaming hotel, catering to both the extreme athlete and the recreational skier or snowboarder, as well as families that span all age groups. No matter the time of season, Whiteout Mountain is the ultimate in first-class mountain getaways.’ Wow. I want to go there and I’ve never skied before in my life.”

“From what little I’ve seen—which I’ll admit is just the Presidential Chalet, at this point—they really mean it when they say
luxury
. The master bath has a sauna that could fit half a dozen people in it. Every bedroom has a fireplace, a Jacuzzi-style bath built for two and feather-topped mattresses. I’m probably never going to want to leave.”

“I’d be fine with that. I might lose you, but at least you wouldn’t be going back to that jackass.”

Mia sighed and rested her forehead on her raised knees. “Not this again.”

“You need to be cherished for the wonderful person you are, not walked all over and unappreciated,” her aunt charged ahead, clearly intent on ignoring Mia. “I don’t care if Jackson was dynamite in bed. I don’t care if he had the world’s most perfect smile and said all the right things to all the right people. He put his own needs ahead of yours, and that goes to what type of character he is underneath the veneer smile and country club charm.”

“Deb—”

“Mia, don’t you think you deserve a man who puts you ahead of himself? I think you deserve that. Hell, I think
every
woman deserves that.”

“I think I deserve to give a three-year relationship—the only long-term relationship I’ve ever had—every chance to make it, instead of wimping out at the first sign of trouble.”

“You think the stuff Jackson’s posted online is the
first
sign? What about not calling since he left Chicago? What about not sending for you after seven months of
getting settled
in Seattle? What about missing your birthday last month, letting it slip by without even a word? What about two years ago, when he talked you into dropping out of law school to support his deadbeat ass?”

Mia growled. “Do you really think I’m so weak-willed? He didn’t talk me out of anything. We sat down and made a very logical, businesslike decision together. We even put it in writing how he’d pay me back, like the legal minds we are.” She glanced over where her purse was while her pulse picked up the pace. Just a last resort, she reminded herself grimly. She wasn’t about to throw Jackson away like he was nothing, she had more loyalty than that. Those papers were just a last resort.

“One night I’m having dinner with the two of you where I mentioned I was going to shop around for a fulltime stager. The next thing I know, you’re asking for the job. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve been a godsend, and thanks to you my sales have never been better. But if it hadn’t been for Jackson’s influence, you never would have given up on your dream of becoming a lawyer.”

“I’m
still
going to become a lawyer, because I haven’t given up on that dream, or
any
dream close to my heart. I never walk away from what I want without putting up one hell of a fight. That’s who I am, Deb, and that’s why I need to get to Seattle. I’m loyal. I don’t give up on people, and I don’t turn my back on years of being together with the man who was the first love of my life.”

“Sweetheart,” her aunt said gently, “two things about what you just said.
He’s
the one who’s turned his back on
you
, and deep down you know it, because you just used the past tense in talking about how Jackson
was
the first love of your life.”