Suite Embrace (5 page)

S
kylar could feel herself being lifted and carried by strong arms, her head pressed against a muscular chest. Then everything went black again. However, within a few seconds, she recovered and opened her eyes.

Inside the cabin, the cold, crisp air had been replaced with a blanket of warmth that enveloped Skylar and calmed her down. A woodsy scent, like fresh cut pine mixed with earthy soil, filled her head and roused her from her near-faint, awakening her to the realization that Mark Jorgen's right hand was cupping her buttocks much too tightly and she was not resisting. She thought about protesting this stranger's brazen hold on her, but instead of mouthing off, decided to hold her tongue for now, thinking she was far too weak to put up much of a fight, anyway, and not all that eager to be released.

“There you go,” Mark said as he gently placed Skylar on a distressed leather sofa facing a hearty fire. He covered her with a plaid wool blanket and then sat down beside her, his hard thigh pressed into the side of her leg. “Are you okay?” he asked, leaning over her, his face very close to hers.

Skylar held her breath and held his eyes with hers, savoring the sudden rush of heat that shot through her chest and settled between her legs. This guy was too fine to be real! And his eyes were dark green, nearly black, and not hazel as she had predicted!

For a moment, she simply stared at him, as if she were still suffering from a dizzy spell when in fact her mind was as clear as the spring water that pooled at the base of the mountains. She recognized the same trace of a foreign accent that she had heard earlier, and her immediate impression was that he resembled an exotically wild and powerful mountain lion. His hair, tawny brown and streaked with gold, was thick and shiny, nearly falling to his shoulders. Of medium height, he had a strong, stocky build, and his skin-tight ski apparel accented the impressive muscles that swept across his chest, down his arms, over his thighs. His skin was tawny golden brown like his hair, and just looking at him caused a tremor of excitement, mixed with a ripple of fear, to shoot through her body and banish her mountain sickness.

“Are you okay?” he asked again.

Finally, Skylar breathed her reply, “I think so,” and then struggled to sit up. “Sorry about the bottle of schnapps, Mr. Jorgen.”

He smiled and gently eased her back. “Don't worry about that, and don't try to sit up just yet.” He re-tucked the blanket around her shoulders. “I spoke to you in
Gorsuch
earlier today, didn't I?”

“Oh, yes…” She grimaced. “You were trying on sunglasses with your girlfriend…the blonde.”

“Goldie? She isn't my girlfriend. She's one of my students,” Mark promptly corrected.

She sure looked like she wanted to be a lot more than your student
, Skylar wanted to say, but didn't. “I'm Skylar Webster,” she went on. “The new concierge here at Scenic Ridge.”

“Yes, I heard you'd arrived today. Funny meeting you in town like that. But Aspen is a very small place.”

“So, I'm beginning to see.”

“So, Miss Webster, altitude sickness got to you, huh?”

“Looks that way,” Skylar agreed. “Mr. Jorgen, I apologize for…”

“Please call me, Mark.”

“Okay, Mark. I'm terribly sorry I broke that bottle of liquor. I'll pay for it. Just let me know how much it cost.”

Mark shrugged off her offer with a lift of his broad shoulders. “Hey. Don't worry about that. What's important is that you're not hurt. Or are you?” Keeping one eye on Skylar, Mark slowly pulled back the blanket and began to sweep both of his firm hands the length of Skylar's wet jeans, squeezing her thighs and legs at intervals. When finished with his examination, he rested his hands against her ankles. “I don't feel any pieces of glass. Any cuts, or pain?”

“No,” Skylar whispered hoarsely, her legs burning at each point where he had touched her. “But I know I must smell like I bathed in schnapps.”

“You do, and it's driving me crazy,” he laughingly teased, in a put-on kind of voice that was low, deep and full of humor.

They both broke into laughter, amused by their unexpected encounter.

However, I wouldn't mind if you licked every drop of it off my body
, she mused, unable to stop her mind from drifting ahead of the moment. With a jerk, she shook off that image and sat up. “Thanks for your help, but I'm feeling a lot better,” Skylar went on. “I gotta get back to…” She paused and broke eye-contact with him, suddenly flustered. He was much too attractive, in a dangerous way, and his piercing gaze was very unnerving. She gave herself over to imagining what it would be like to kiss those smooth, full lips of his, to touch that hair…

No, no. I've got to get a hold of myself and focus on my job.
Skylar bit down on her bottom lip, in an attempt to crush the anxiety building inside her. “I need a shower, a good night's sleep…I…have to go,” she told him, quickly swinging her feet to the floor. Before standing, she cautiously looked over at Mark, unable to say another word.

“Yeah. You'd better go and get out of those wet clothes,” he commented, sounding a bit distracted. “After a good night's sleep you'll feel better. So, did you bring the full case of schnapps with you or just the one bottle?”

“Oh! The case. Yes. From
Lainpour
.”

“Good. Please thank Kathy for going to get it this afternoon, and thank you for bringing it over.”

Skylar stiffened. His offhand comment hit her like an icicle stabbed into her heart.
Thank Kathy? I don't think so!
she thought, recalling her frightening trip back from Crested Village. “For your information, Kathy didn't pick it up,” she started. “She was too busy and couldn't get away, so you can thank
me.
In spite of a bad case of altitude sickness, I got out of bed and drove all the way over to Crested Village, then to
Lainpour'
s warehouse in some backwoods part of the town. On the way back, I got caught in a blinding snowstorm, but I gladly put myself through all of that in order to deliver your precious liquor…which remains in the back of my Jeep,” Skylar finished in a huff, not feeling particularly charitable.

“That took some doing,” Mark commented, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Damn straight it did! But I managed just fine.”

“Good for you. So, why all the fuss? After all, you are the concierge,” he stated, his too-smug smile growing wider. “Aren't you just doing your job?”

Skylar's jaw dropped.
What a jerk
, she thought, realizing she had pegged him right the first time. He was a know-it-all snob, just as she'd thought he was when they met in
Gorsuch
earlier. Before she could form an appropriate comeback, Mark reached over and opened a carved wooden box that was sitting on the coffee table and pulled out a twenty dollar bill.

“Here. For all your trouble,” he said, extending a fold of cash.

A tip? He's actually offering me a tip!
Her temper flared to the point of screaming. Feeling totally offended, she was tempted to decline the money. However, a good concierge deserved generous tips, and refusing to take his cash might seem out of character.

I want this self-centered jackass to believe, as the staff does, that I am simply the underemployed sister of the owner, who desperately needs this job
. “Thank you very much,” she told him, palming the bills with a flick of her wrist before stuffing them into the pocket of her wet jeans. Rising, she went outside and opened the hatch of her car.

Mark came up behind her and reached into the back of her vehicle to remove the heavy box of bottles.

Glad to be finished with this crazy assignment, Skylar walked to the driver's side of the Jeep and was about to step in when Mark leaned around the side of the car and said, “You call this a blinding snowstorm?” Chuckling, he shook his head. “This isn't even a flurry, Miss Webster. You've got a lot to learn about life in the mountains.”

“And you've got a lot to learn about me,” she fumed under her breath, climbing inside. She glanced into the rearview mirror and saw him standing in the middle of the road, holding the box, a huge grin on his face. Furious, Skylar started the engine, jammed her foot down hard on the accelerator and sped off down the service road.

 

“Wow!” was all Mark could say as he watched Skylar's red Jeep disappear around a curve. Hefting the heavy box, he went back inside and set the liquor on the black granite bar in his small, but well-appointed kitchen. Still rattled from the unexpected encounter, he pulled a glass from the cabinet and a bottle of schnapps from the box.

“May as well sample this,” he murmured, adding ice to the crystal tumbler. After opening the liquor, he poured himself a generous amount, added a thin slice of lemon and then wandered back into the great room to sit down.

The first thing he noticed was the blanket that he had used to cover Skylar. It was still on the floor where she had tossed it. He bent over and picked it up, then sank back against the pillows on the sofa, inhaling her scent.

“Too gorgeous to be a concierge,” he mused, staring into the fire. “And what a woman.” He could still see her warm, tea-colored skin, silky, black twists that bounced against her cheeks, intriguing, black eyes that had clearly assessed him in a gently provocative manner. She was petite, but well-toned. And she had great legs, he had felt every curve himself. She was small, but definitely not fragile. This was a woman with grit and guts, no trace of a diva attitude. He had to get closer to her!

Concentrating on this brief, but stimulating encounter, Mark tried to analyze his reaction to Skylar, certain he had never felt this way before. His body hummed with a kind of anticipation that made his palms wet, his throat tight and brought a strange sensation to the pit of his stomach. What was going on?

Mark let his head fall back against the sofa as he savored the
Linie Aquavit,
his thoughts riveted on Skylar. At one time in his life, a working woman like Skylar Webster would never have turned his head. With one foot planted in the African-American world of his father and the other in the Euro-rich world of his mother, Mark had always felt uncertain about where he belonged.

When Mark was eleven, his parents divorced, and his mother took him to Norway to live. His mother's motivation, other than to remain far away from his father, had been to push her son into a career as a professional skier. She became his agent, his trainer and manager and his best friend, setting the direction for the rest of his life. Mark had always regretted that she had deliberately kept him isolated from links to his paternal heritage, but there had been little he could do about it, and his mother always got what she wanted.

For years, Mark's world had revolved around a stream of globe-trotting, glitzy, super-rich people—and women who had begged to occupy his time and his bed. He'd never loved any of them, but they had been fun to party with. He had had his choice of gorgeous women around the world, and he had wasted a great deal of money and time on them.

However, now that his fast-paced professional career was over and he had severed professional ties with his mother, things were different. He was back in the United States, where he planned to live permanently, and he knew exactly what he wanted to do. He wanted to settle down with a grounded African-American woman who was not afraid to work hard and whose world did not revolve around money, society events and outrageous status symbols. He wanted to start a family with an intelligent, beautiful woman who would appreciate him for who he was now, not for who he used to be. He wondered if Skylar Webster might be the woman he was looking for. There was only one way to find out—put her to the test.

T
he best features of Skylar's new office, a cozy space only a few steps from the registration desk, were the two tall windows that faced an inner courtyard where a huge fire pit, a hot tub with an outdoor movie projector and a deck provided the guests an unparalleled view of Aspen Mountain.

Cupping her mug of hot chocolate with both hands, Skylar leaned over her desk and rounded her shoulders, stretching out her back. She had made it through her first full day of work without any major incidents, mishaps or encounters with dissatisfied guests, and her mountain sickness had eased. Between fielding calls for general information and making spa and massage reservations, she had provided directions to the various activity areas of the resort and chartered a limousine to take Goldie Lamar and her companions to the Silver Hills Theater.

At least her job kept her busy and kept her mind off of Lewis, except when she saw couples in love sitting by the fire or having fun on the ice or the slopes. The sight made her feel empty and sad, and she sometimes wondered if perhaps she'd broken off too quickly with Lewis. Should she have tried harder to work things out? Would it have been possible? The turmoil of that failed relationship still simmered in her heart.

Did Lewis cheat on me before the accident? Did he leave me for another woman because I can't have children? Had he really expected to benefit from my financial windfall? Did he ever really love me?
The unanswered questions went round and round in her mind whenever she allowed herself to drift back in time.

The good thing was that she was definitely feeling much better than when she arrived back at her room last night, nauseous, half-frozen and irritated as hell at Mark Jorgen. Thank God she had not seen or spoken to him all day.

“I'm getting rave reviews from my guests,” Deena remarked as she entered her sister's office and settled into the chair across from Skylar. “I think you passed the first hurdle when you managed to get Goldie Lamar's mother-in-law those tickets to Silver Hills Theater for tonight.”

“If all of my requests should be so easy,” Skylar replied, grinning over at her sister. “Your decision to buy a full page ad in the theater's next promotional booklet sealed the deal. Thanks.”

“Glad we could work it out and it'll be good publicity for us, too,” Deena replied.

“Hey, have you heard from Jerome? How's his dad doing?” Skylar wanted to know, hoping things were not too rough for her brother-in-law, whom she liked very much, even though they were not particularly close. With Skylar living in Tampa and Jerome and Deena in Colorado, the three simply hadn't made the effort to visit over the years, and now it was too bad that Jerome had to be away during Skylar's first extended stay in the mountains.

The cheerful expression that had been on Deena's face when she entered shifted into one of concern. The worry in her eyes told Skylar that things were not going well. “I just spoke to Jerome,” Deena said. “His dad is not bouncing back as he and the doctors had hoped. Seems the cancer was much more advanced than the doctors had thought and the surgery took its toll. He'll be in the hospital quite a while longer than the two days he had been told he'd have to spend there, and he'll need at least a month at home recuperating while undergoing chemotherapy.”

“Gee, I'm really sorry to hear that. Think you need to be with Jerome?”

“No, not right now…maybe later…after the reunion is over. Not much I can do now but wait, and I can do that right here. Jerome seems to be holding up okay.”

“Well, you know best.”

Deena nodded, and then said, changing the subject, “Kathy told me you drove all the way over to Crested Village last night by yourself to get the liquor for Mark. I would have gone with you, Skylar. Why didn't you ask?”

Skylar shrugged. “Guess I wanted to prove to myself that I really can do this job. However, I have to admit it was a pretty scary trip. Started snowing. Got dark on me. And when I finally got to Mark's cabin, he acted all smug, as if what I'd done was no biggie. What's up with him anyway? Where is he from? He has some kind of a funny accent.”

“Mark is biracial,” Deena replied. “His father is black and his mother, Virina Dagrun, is a well-known Norwegian model.”

“Was Mark born in Norway?”

“No, California, but when his parents divorced, his mother took him back to Norway to live.”

“So, that's the reason for his accent,” Skylar murmured. “Well, he's probably upset with me.”

“Why?”

“After I arrived with his delivery, I kind of fainted…passed out for a few seconds on his doorstep. Overwhelmed by the altitude, I guess. Anyway, I broke a bottle of schnapps and soaked my jeans. He took me inside and then had the nerve to try to tell me what my job was…and that was after he had flirted like crazy with me.”

Struggling to suppress a chuckle, Deena pressed her lips together, one hand to her mouth. “He flirted with you, and you're upset?”

“Yeah, put me on his couch and was leaning over me, putting his lips real close to mine. Even felt my legs. Got all in my face and everything. It was really rude.”

Now, Deena laughed aloud. “Please! He was probably just making sure you were all right.”

“Hump. Working his Afro-European charm on me, you mean, as I'm sure he loves to do with all of your female guests.”

“He does generate a lot of attention,” Deena admitted.

“Well, I'm not one of his starstruck students like Goldie Lamar. I swear that woman has a major crush on Mark. When I called her to tell her I had the theater tickets for her party, all she wanted to do was rattle on and on about her fabulous ski lesson with Mark this morning and how gentle he had been with her.”

“Mark's quite the star around here,” Deena said.

“He's an employee, just like me, and he ought to remember that.”

“Lighten up, Skylar. You have to admit, he's a hunk. Real easy to look at and a nice guy, too.”

“Rather exotic, I'd say,” Skylar said grudgingly.

“So what if he creates a stir among the guests. Nothing wrong with that. You may not know it but he has an international reputation as a very eligible bachelor, so you shouldn't complain that he flirted with you. Wouldn't it have been much worse if he had paid you no attention at all? Really, Skylar. You're smart, attractive, single. Stop being so damn sensitive. Mark Jorgen could be quite a catch.”

“A catch? What makes you think I'm in the market for a man?”

“Oh? You're not?”

“No!”

“Maybe you should be, 'cause I hope like hell you're not holding out for a second chance with Lewis Monroe,” Deena said.

“Hell would freeze over before I'd give Lewis a second chance. But I'm not gonna lie. I loved Lewis and I know he hurt me, but it's not that easy to forget and move on. I trusted him,” Skylar said in a small voice.

“He cheated on you.”

“I know…but you think I can just forget about our good times together and take up with a new man, like buying a new pair of shoes or a dress? I need time to get over Lewis, and an affair with a playboy ski instructor is not the way I plan to do it,” Skylar said.

“Okay, okay. I hear you,” Deena replied, backing off. “I was simply suggesting that you not judge Mark too harshly.”

“Fine. Anyway, back to Mark Jorgen, what's with this special liquor…and his mom?” Skylar continued, asking the question in a way that she hoped sounded very innocent. Truth be told, she had lain awake for a long time last night thinking about Mark Jorgen and wanted all the details Deena could provide. Her intense desire to know more about this man, both angered and intrigued Skylar: she had never met a man quite like him and definitely didn't want anyone, especially her sister, to suspect how strongly he had affected her.

“Oh, yeah. Virina Dagrun. Mark's mother. As I said, she still lives in Europe. She was also a very good amateur skier when she was younger. Now, I believe she's the spokesperson for some high-priced line of cosmetics.”

“Does she still ski?”

“No. She gave up her dream of turning professional when she left Norway and got into modeling. After her divorce, she returned to Norway, focused on Mark's talent and became his trainer and agent,” Deena explained. “She got him to the Olympics, but somewhere along the way, their relationship turned rocky. I don't know the details, but Mark did say that she didn't want him to leave Europe to settle in the States, and she was not too happy that he decided to teach here at Scenic Ridge instead of a better-known, European ski resort.”

“Sounds like quite a mom,” Skylar coyly commented, hoping Deena would give up more. A man's mother could be a powerful influence and a key to understanding him. It might be good to know just how important a role Mother Virina played in Mark's life.

“Yeah, Virina is something else. She's coming for her first visit soon—right in the middle of the Black Winter Sports Reunion—which is just around the corner,” Deena reminded Skylar. “It's going to be a crazy, hectic time with a full hotel and the slopes as crowded as they've ever been. I hope you can handle it.”

“I'll have to,” Skylar noted, flipping through the pages on her desk calendar. She stopped when she saw that Jean-Paul had not only penciled Virina's name in on his calendar as arriving on January 29th, but had drawn four stars above it. “I assume Mrs. Dagrun…”

With a shake of her head, Deena stopped Skylar. “I spoke with her when she made her reservation—she prefers to be called Miss Dagrun. Her maiden name, so make a note of that.”

“Got it. And I assume she wants one of the corner rooms,” Skylar went on, making notes on her calendar. “Maybe on the second floor, facing east so she can watch the sunrise in the mornings?”

“No. The Vista View cabin. Already reserved. She made it clear that she didn't want to stay in the main lodge. I know what she was thinking, after all, if Mark can have a private cabin, why shouldn't she?”

With a laugh, Skylar nodded. “Right. I don't know the woman, but I can imagine her saying something like that. But if she's so picky, I'm surprised she isn't staying in town at the Little Nell or the St. Regis,” Skylar noted. “I'm sure she could arrange for a car to bring her out here to visit her son whenever she wanted to see him.”

Hunching closer to the edge of Skylar's desk, Deena crinkled her soft, brown eyes until they were half shut. “That would never do. She wants to be close to Mark. She told me so. I think she's lonely. He must have been the center of her life.”

“But he's a grown man!” Skylar commented.

“Thirty-eight to be exact.”

“And never been married, I assume?” Skylar prompted thinking that if Mark felt comfortable enough with Deena to discuss his relationship with his mother, maybe he'd shared information about his love life with her, too.

“Not as far as I know, but I've never asked him about his romantic past. Maybe you can get that out of him…if it's important for you to know.”

With a scowl, Skylar shrugged, “I'm afraid I'm not that interested.”

“Doesn't sound that way to me.”

“Oh, drop it, Deena, please.”

“Okay. But I wouldn't be surprised if Miss Dagrun gives you a real workout when she gets here. But don't let her rattle you, okay?”

“Afraid I might run off and join Jean-Paul at the Hyatt Regency in Utah?” Skylar joked.

“No, but you might be tempted. She sounds like the kind of guest who can be a real pain in the butt. Demanding, picky and insistent on having things done a certain way. It wouldn't surprise me if she's coming to Scenic Ridge to convince Mark to leave.”

“Leave? But you said he was happy here.”

“He is, and I plan to keep him happy and keep him here.”

Skylar sipped from her mug, intrigued by Deena's remark. “You talk about Mark Jorgen as if he's a guest, not an employee.”

“In a way he is a guest,” Deena agreed. “And I expect you and the staff to treat him as such. As an Olympic gold medal winner he has clout…a following of devotees that attracts high profile clients. Whatever he asks for, you get it, or do it. Okay?”

With a jerk of her shoulder, Skylar puckered her lips and nodded her understanding, pleased with herself for already having shown him exactly what
she
was all about. Fulfilling Mark Jorgen's requests would be easy, as long as he didn't overstep the boundaries she planned to put in place right away.