Wedding His Takeover Target (2 page)

He'd definitely have to take this one to dinner. And then maybe to bed. His heart pumped faster in approval of the plan.

Unzipping his coat, he surveyed the room. Antiques. But not the kind a man would be afraid to sit on. Lace, velvet and flowery fabrics predominated. But not enough of the girly stuff to threaten his manhood. The inn wasn't bad. But it definitely wasn't competition for The Ridge.

“Are you related to the Jarrods of Jarrod Ridge?” she asked from behind him.

He hadn't heard her return. She'd shed her outerwear, revealing a purple turtleneck sweater clinging to a long, lean torso with curves in all the right places. Nice. And definitely worth pursuing. “Yes.”

Her lips mashed together as if his reply displeased her—drawing attention to the fact that she'd added some gloss to her wide, red mouth. An encouraging sign. If she wasn't interested she wouldn't have bothered.

“My grandfather will be with you in a moment.”

His plans sputtered and stalled like a faulty airplane engine. “Your grandfather?”

“Yes.”

The revelation killed any chance he had of taking her on a date or to bed. With his relationship track record, he couldn't risk souring the sale with another romance wreck. Business came first—especially family business. But perhaps after the deed had been transferred…

He couldn't imagine going a year without sex, but he'd ended his last relationship two months before his father's death, and thus far none of the women he'd met at the lodge had tempted him like this one did.

“You're not from here, are you?” he asked. Not that many people were Aspenites these days between the celebrity invasion and the ski season's tourist ebb and flow.

“No.” She folded her arms across her chest, looking protective, defiant and delicious.
Down, boy.

“I've worked all around the globe, but I can't place your accent.”

“Good.”

Man, she had it in for him for some reason. “Have I done something to offend you, Ms. Caldwell?”

“Taylor.”

He hiked a brow.

“My last name is Taylor.”

He noted she'd ignored his question. Again. Apparently, Ms. Taylor, like him, operated on a need-to-know basis. His gaze flicked briefly back to her bare ring finger. “Married?”

She glanced away, but not so quickly that he didn't catch a glimpse of pain, and then she checked her watch. “Not anymore. Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea? We usually have high tea at four.”

That would give her an excuse to leave the room, and he wasn't ready to let her go yet—not until he'd made sense of her cool demeanor. “No thanks. Are you visiting your grandfather?”

“I manage the B and B for him.”

“Been doing that long?”

“A while.”

He almost laughed at her quick, succinct response. He'd never met a woman who made him sift so hard for information, like a miner panning for precious metals. He was used to ones who chattered nonstop. He'd have to employ a different strategy if he wanted to get details out of her.

“I am a local—or I used to be. But I'm only back for…
a while.
” He mimicked her words.

“Yes, I heard.”

“Did you?”

“Don't get excited. I wasn't fishing for information about you Jarrods. In a city with a population of roughly six thousand residents, most of those not full-time, the gossip mill works overtime. Your father's death and the stipulations of his will are a hot topic. My condolences on his passing.”

He digested the
you Jarrods
part of her reply. “Thanks, but if the grapevine is working efficiently, then you know there was no love lost between my father and me. I'll only be here another seven months and then I'm gone.”

“Your loss. Aspen is beautiful.”

He let his gaze wander to her booted feet and then back
to her eyes. “Exquisitely beautiful. But not as warm as I'd like.”

She stiffened, obviously receiving the message that he wasn't discussing the city's climate. A fresh rush of color flooded her cheeks and her lips parted.

“Yeah, well, you're old enough to know you can't always get what you want.”

A clearing throat preempted further discussion. An older gentleman, tall, thin, but bearing military-erect posture and a shock of snow-white hair stood in the entry. Blue eyes the same shade as his granddaughter's met Gavin's. “Jarrod, huh?”

“I'm Gavin Jarrod. I'd like to talk to you about—”

Caldwell held up a blue-veined hand. “Sabrina, be an angel and get me some coffee to wash away the cobwebs my nap always leaves behind.”

Not a good start. Gavin fought the urge to check out the brunette's backside as she left. “I apologize if I woke you, sir.”

Caldwell waved his apology aside. “Fell asleep watching the news channel. Damned depressing babble. All gloom and doom even if it is delivered by hot blondes in short skirts and high heels. Time to get up anyway. Can't sleep what's left of my life away. What can I do for you, Gavin Jarrod?”

“I'd like to buy back the property my grandfather lost to you.”

“Should have known one of you would pick up where your father left off. Badgering me seems to be the Jarrod way. At least you had the gumption to pester me face-to-face instead through a damned lawyer. Can't respect a man who won't handle his own dirty work.”

Gavin digested the animosity. He'd have to work around it. “As you've no doubt discovered, the mine is worthless.”

“Depends on what you consider the valuable part. Ain't necessarily the minerals.”

Cryptic old coot. “The acreage is in the middle of Jarrod Ridge.”

“And me owning it is like a burr in your butt, ain't it, boy? Drove your daddy nuts, too.” Mischief fanned crinkles from the old, but sharp eyes.

“My oldest brother and I would like to build a bungalow on the property.”

“Don't you folks have enough going on up there already? Lodges all over the damned place plus Jarrod Manor.”

“This would be a different caliber accommodation for guests needing more privacy and additional security than the hotel or existing lodges could provide.”

Henry snorted. “Married Hollywood types sneaking off with somebody they oughtn't to be with.”

Another strike. “We were thinking more along the lines of heads of state.”

“Don't care if you're putting up the president. The land's not for sale.”

Gavin struggled to keep his frustration in check. “What purpose does keeping it serve you, Mr. Caldwell? There's no road access which means you can't build on it. You can't even get to it without obtaining written permission to cross Jarrod property.”

“Y'think so? Son, I've been visiting that mine for fifty years—often enough to know you're one of the young'uns who used to camp down in the shaft.”

Interesting. Until his most recent return Gavin had never seen signs of anyone visiting other than him and his brothers. The entrance was pretty well hidden. “Yessir. All three of my brothers and I did, but I probably spent more time there than the rest of them combined.”

“Cleaned up after yourself, too.”

“Our father forbade us to go there. We didn't want to leave any tracks.”

“He forbade you because he didn't own it.”

“A fact he didn't share with us, and one we'd like to rectify. I'm prepared to offer you—”

“Don't matter how much you offer. I'm still not selling. Which one are you? The architect, the engineer, the marketing man or the restaurateur?”

Caldwell knew quite a bit about the Jarrods, but considering the family had been a fixture in Aspen for generations, the interest in their lives wasn't surprising. “I'm a construction engineer. My brother Blake is a developer who commissioned the design for the bungalow we'd like to build. Our offer is more than generous.”

“Don't care about your money.”

“Your inn could use a little work.”

Caldwell snorted. “I'll get to it.”

“Opening day for the ski slopes is only a few weeks away.”

“That's not news.”

Gavin didn't like bringing personal issues into a business problem because it gave his opponent leverage, but he had no choice. “Mr. Caldwell, as you've noted, that mine has sentimental value to me. I spent a lot of my youth there. The site holds some good memories.”

Those intensely blue eyes held his. “For someone who never comes home, you're sure tied to the place. Could be the mountain's dug her claws into you. Some folks claim once she gets hold of you, she never lets go.”

The old man's folktales didn't change the fact that Gavin intended to get the hell out of Dodge as soon as he'd fulfilled his part of the will. “Our plans will preserve the mine and its historical value. The bungalow will blend into the setting.”

“I'm still not interested in selling.”

“What can I do to change your mind? Would you like to see the blueprints?”

“I don't care about any blueprints.”

Gavin clenched his teeth so hard he was lucky he didn't crack a molar. He had to find a way to get through to the man, and at the moment his mind was blank. He pulled the written offer from his pocket and offered it to Caldwell. “Take a look at our price.”

When the man made no move to take the envelope, Gavin laid the package on the coffee table. “Think it over. Thank you for your time.”

He strode toward the entry.

“What'd you think of my Sabrina?” Caldwell called after him.

Gavin stopped and pivoted. “Excuse me?”

“Liked her, didn't you?”

What was the old man up to?
“Your granddaughter is quite attractive.”

Caldwell nodded. “She's easy on the eyes, that's for sure. Like her grandma, my Colleen. Shut that door.”

Unsure of where the conversation was headed, Gavin complied. The envelope remained unopened on the table where he'd left it.

“How badly do you want that land?”

That sounded like a loaded question. “I want to see the Jarrod property intact.”

Caldwell scratched his chin. “A deed will earn you the deed.”

What in the hell did that mean? The man seemed lucid, but Gavin wondered if he'd misjudged him. Gavin slowly crossed the rug. “I'm not following.”

“Marry Sabrina and I'll sell you the land.”

Shock knocked Gavin like a wrecking ball to the chest.
Was everybody marriage-crazy today? First Blake, now this. “
Marry
her?”

“It could work.”

Gavin shook his head. Caldwell had to be senile. But Gavin couldn't afford to offend him. “I just met Sabrina, sir, and you weren't in here long enough to notice she's not exactly impressed with me.”

Caldwell smiled, smirked, really. “She's interested.”

Gavin's pulse spiked. “She told you that?”

“Nope. I just know.”

This conversation seemed surreal. What could be so wrong with the woman that her grandfather had to bribe someone to marry her? “Mr. Caldwell, you don't know me well enough to wish me on your granddaughter.”

“My Colleen was one of those mail-order brides. Didn't set eyes on her until the week of our wedding. But we had chemistry from the minute we met at the train station. Same as you and Sabrina.”

Gavin didn't bother to deny the attraction. “I'm glad that worked for you, but frankly, I'm not interested in marriage. My career keeps me on the road. I move from site to site, usually only staying in one place for six months to a year. No woman wants to live like that.”

He'd learned that the hard way.

“The mountains still call you home. Court Sabrina. Marry her. And I'll sell you that parcel for whatever you've written on that paper.”

“You haven't even looked at the offer.”

“I told you. Money ain't the issue, son.”

Hell. Ask anything else of him and he'd be all over the deal.
But marriage?
“I'm sorry, Mr. Caldwell. I'm not your man.”

“Sabrina's all I have left. And you might have noticed, I'm not a spring chicken. I'm seventy-five, and my health ain't
what it used to be. But that's between my doctor and me and now you. Sabrina doesn't need to know. Once I'm gone there won't be anyone around to look after her since my head-in-the-clouds son and his wife can't be bothered. I want to see to Sabrina before I'm gone.”

The genuine concern in the tired blue eyes yanked at something in Gavin's chest.
Sap. He's playing you like a fiddle.

“I'm not the man for the job,” he repeated.

“I think you are. The fact that you turned me down despite the fact that Sabrina could inherit everything I have only reinforces my opinion. I ain't talked to you more than ten minutes, Gavin Jarrod, but I can already tell you're twice the man your daddy was. He used the land, stripping away whatever got in his way, without thought for anything more than the profit he could make. You, with the way you took care of one good-for-nothing hole in the ground, proved you're smarter. You respect the land and nature.”

True. “That's a broad assumption, Mr. Caldwell.”

“But a valid one. You'll treat my girl with the same respect.”

Gavin backed toward the door. “The answer's still no.”

“If you're thinking you can wait 'til I drop dead and buy the property from Sabrina, think again. If I die before she marries I've willed that plot to the National Parks Service.”

Damn. The park system would condemn land to get road access to the mine. Jarrod Ridge would end up losing even more property and have to deal with tourists wandering off the path. Their secluded retreat atmosphere would be shattered.

“If you agree I have one more stipulation. I don't want our girl knowing anything about our little agreement. Ya hear? You'll court her like a woman deserves to be courted. She won't marry ya without loving ya. That much I know.”