Under The Mistletoe

“You think the hotel’s exhibiting signs of mismanagement?” His tone would have made anyone he knew take care.

“I think the manager’s exhibiting signs of bad judgment. Failing to recognize and deal with new fiscal realities, for one. Getting excessively familiar with the guests, for another.” Her voice rose as she spoke. “You have no business running around incognito, playing up to guests. You’re the ultimate representative of the hotel. We expect you to act like it.”

“Running around incognito?” His tight control slipped a notch. “What about you, coming in here without telling anyone who you are or why you’ve come? A professional would have called ahead instead of playing games. And as to talking with you, I’m the manager, it’s my job to put guests at ease. I saw someone who looked lost and unhappy, and I came up to try to help. I would have done it with anyone. It just happened to be you.”

The blood drained from her face. “I’d suggest you curb your friendly impulses going forward, Trask.” She fixed him with an icy stare. “And before you say a word about the other night, remember who you’re talking to.”

He stared right back at her. “And who is that, Ms. Stone—the new manager?”

“No, the head of the transition team.”

“And where’s the rest of your team?”

“I’ll know that when I find people who can get this hotel to stand up to inspection.”

“My operation does stand up to inspection and the revenues have always stayed to plan. If we’re not up to your numbers it’s because your grandfather was happy to put almost every penny of profit back into the hotel, trying to bring it back from where it was when he bought it.”

“And that’s the first thing that’s going to stop until your margins get to where they belong. When we’ve got money for construction again, it’ll go to cutting room size.”

“Are you out of your mind?” he demanded, rising to his feet. “You can’t stop renovations on a building like this. Do that and she’ll be falling apart in a year. This is a national historic landmark. It’s a public trust.” It was as though a house cat had suddenly transformed into a dark, dangerous panther. If she hadn’t been so angry herself, she’d have been alarmed. “This hotel meant more than just profit margins to your grandfather. Do you have any understanding of that?” he demanded. “Is there anything that means more than profit margins to you?”

His eyes blazed at her, green and furious, and for a moment, the words clogged up in her throat. In defense, she rose. “We’ve got numbers, Mr. Trask, and we are going to meet them. The only question is how. If you’re not willing to cooperate, I will be more than happy to bring in management with a better appreciation of our objectives.”

“Is that a threat?”

“That’s up to you. Now if we can continue the discussion—”

“Actually, I’ve got a telecon right now and meetings throughout the rest of the day. The earliest I can fit you in is tomorrow.”

“Fine. Eight o’clock.” Stifling her temper, Hadley rose and walked to the door. “Until tomorrow, Mr. Trask.”

She didn’t shake hands goodbye.

Chapter Four

Hadley stomped up the grand staircase, fuming. Gabe Trask had to go, pure and simple. The man was impossible. She’d come in with a simple list of action items and he refused to even talk about them. And he had the nerve to defend his unprofessional behavior by attacking her for coming in without warning. So what? Plenty of managers would do the same. Why should she have warned them so that they could put on a nice face? She wanted information, and information she’d gotten.

So she hadn’t worked in hospitality before and maybe she didn’t have any experience with this particular hotel. That didn’t mean she couldn’t draw conclusions and make business decisions.

And that didn’t give him the right to defy her.

Is there anything that means more than profit margins to you? Robert would have laughed at him. And Hadley?

She couldn’t go there. Her response didn’t matter; only satisfying Robert did. So it pained her to cut away the touches that made the hotel graceful. No matter. Her job depended on meeting the targets. And if Gabe Trask posed an obstacle to that, Gabe Trask would have to go.

She stopped and took a deep breath. She hated getting angry. Irritation was one thing. Irritation could be useful. As Robert had shown her, there was power in controlled emotion, in focused disapproval. Anger, on the other hand, only left her shaky and unsettled. She didn’t indulge in the kind of altercation she’d just had with Gabe Trask any more than she’d screamed on the roller coasters the time the twins had badgered her parents into taking them to Disney World.

Feeling jittery, she walked the rest of the way to her room. If she could get rid of the emotion, she could calm down, and the best way she knew of getting rid of emotion was working.

With a grim smile, she unlocked the door and headed for her computer. It was time to write a memo.

Gabe walked through his front door with the pizza box just in time to hear his mother’s voice on the answering machine. Cursing, he stepped swiftly into the living room, snatching up the cordless handset just as she was saying goodbye. “Hey, Ma.”

“Gabriel.” Warm pleasure filled Molly Trask’s voice.

“How’re you doing?”

“I’m well. How about you?”

Still carrying the pizza, Gabe headed down the hall to the kitchen. “Okay.”

“You doesn’t sound all that okay. Is something going on with you, too?”

“With me, too?” Setting the box down, he reached into a cabinet and pulled out a plate and a wineglass. “What’s that supposed to mean? What else is going on?”

“I don’t know, exactly.” She hesitated.

“Come on, Ma, you never just go quiet. Tell me what’s going on. Is it Jacob? Nick? Or both? I thought they worked things out at Thanksgiving.” And for all the times he’d played peacemaker, his mother had never been the one to ask him to do it.

“It’s nothing to do with Jacob,” she said quickly. “He and Nick have mended fences, I think.”

“So what’s going on?” Propping the phone against his ear with one shoulder, Gabe poured himself a glass of Chianti.

“I don’t know,” she said again. “I talked with Nicholas today and he didn’t sound right.”

“Define ‘didn’t sound right.’”

“Down. Frustrated.”

Frustrated? That made two of them. Gabe took a swallow of the wine. “Did he get the results of the firefighters’ exam yet? If he didn’t do well, that would be a good reason right there.”

“No, I asked him. He says he probably won’t know for another week or so. I think he got in a fight with that nice girl he brought to Thanksgiving.”

“Sloane? Jeez, they looked like they were on their way to three kids and an SUV. That was what, like a week ago?”

“It only takes a minute or two sometimes. There were a couple of times I was happy as a clam with your father one minute and ready to take a frying pan to his head the next.”

Gabe leaned against the kitchen counter and grinned. “You never are going to forgive him for buying you that vacuum cleaner for your anniversary, are you?”

“I suppose I should finally let the poor man off the hook.”

He heard the smile in her voice, a smile that had disappeared for so many months after his father had died, and felt a wave of relief. “Generous of you. Anyway, what’s the deal with Nick? You want me to give him a call?”

“Would you? I hate to put you up to it, but I’m worried about him.”

“It’s okay. Just call me Mr. Fix It.”

Which he was, Gabe reflected as he hung up. He never set out to take care of people, but somehow he always wound up doing it. Hell, even his job was all about taking care of people. The funny thing was, he didn’t mind. Sometimes—lots of times—it made him feel like a world-beater. Then again, sometimes it backfired on him, like helping out Hadley Stone had backfired.

Of course, that hadn’t been why he’d approached her, not really. And it hadn’t been why he’d pulled her into his arms in the warm glow of the dining room.

He didn’t need to go there, though. The last thing he should be thinking about was what it would be like to taste that delectable mouth, to press his lips against her soft throat. It didn’t matter that he’d seen both heat and surrender in her eyes that moment on the dance floor. Things had changed. He needed to keep his distance, pure and simple. He needed to get her out of his mind. He definitely didn’t need to be thinking about her laughing at him in the candlelight, or the way she’d looked at the end, mouth tempting and full and waiting for his.

With an oath, he carried his dinner out into the living room and sprawled on the couch. With one hand, he dialed his brother’s number. With the other, he picked up a piece of pizza.

“Yeah.” Nick’s voice was flat and exhausted-sounding. Gabe understood, now, his mother’s concern.

“Do you have a dog?” Gabe asked.

“What? You know I don’t.” Irritable, which was at least a sign of life.

“Good. ‘Cause if you had I’d have guessed it just died.”

“You’re cute. How’d you get to be so cute?”

“Just natural, I guess,” Gabe said modestly. “Jacob’s surly, you’re antsy and I’m cute. Except right now you sound like Jacob. What’s up?”

“Talking with my brother the great conversationalist always does that to me.” In the background, a series of bells sounded.

Gabe took a bite of pizza. “You at the firehouse?”

“Yeah. It’s a call for another company, though. What’s going on with you?”

“Pizza, right now,” Gabe told him, chewing.

“And let me guess, you’re drinking some kind of fancy-ass wine with it instead of beer like a normal person would.”

“Yeah, so?”

“And with a fork and knife, instead of with your hands.”

“No fork and knife, and you’ll be happy to know I’m using a paper towel instead of a napkin.” Gabe wiped his fingers.

“What, are you turning into a savage?”

“You just can’t stand the fact that I have style, can you?”

“So are you calling to dangle your pizza in front of me?”

“Actually, I’m calling up to bitch.”

“Don’t tell me, you couldn’t get the right wine for pizza. What does a guy like you have to bitch about?”

“Stone Enterprises.”

Nick snorted. “Why don’t you add on Microsoft and Donald Trump, while you’re at it?”

“Because Donald Trump didn’t just take over my hotel.”

“Ah.”

“And didn’t send in a flunky to take apart everything I’ve built in the past five years.” The frustration that had been simmering in him bubbled up afresh.

“I take it you didn’t hit it off with him.”

“Her.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah, ah.”

“Our lives may be in sync. What about the her?”

“Besides the fact that she’s a corporate shark in the skin of a goddess?”

“Definitely in sync. A goddess, huh?”

“Enough to make me change my religion. Except for the fact that her job is to turn my hotel into a low-end chain joint.”

“That is kind of a problem.”

“You think?”

There was a short silence while Nick digested the news. “A wise man once told me that the way to get what you want is to help the people in a position to say yes get what they want.”

“I was the one who told you that,” Gabe said.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I meant a wiseass. It’s true, though. People operate mostly on self-interest. Convince her that it’s in her best interest to do it your way. Unless you’re a screwup and you’re doing it all wrong,” Nick added.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Gabe’s voice was sour.

“Fair and balanced, that’s our motto. So why does she want to do this?”

“To meet some bogus profit targets that come from corporate clowns who are clueless about the hotel business.”

“And what do you want?”

To bring Whit Stone back. “I want it to be what it is, something special.”

“Did you tell her that?”

Gabe smiled faintly. “Let’s just say we didn’t see eye to eye.”

“Lot of that going around.”

“Ah,” Gabe said. “Goddess trouble of your own?”

“My advice to you is avoid ‘em like the plague.”

“I’m trying,” Gabe said, pushing the image of Hadley out of his mind. “So what, did you and Sloane get in a fight?”

“We broke up.”

It explained a lot. “When? You guys looked pretty tight at Thanksgiving.”

“I think that was what freaked her out. And if that didn’t, the fire sure did.”

“Fire?” Gabe sat up straight. “What fire?”

“Oh, we had a big one here last week. Ugly building. A couple of guys got hurt in the collapse.”

“One of those guys wouldn’t be you, would he?”

There was a pause. “You going to tell Ma?”

Gabe snorted. “How old are you again?”

“I mean it. She doesn’t need to be scared, not when she’s still getting over losing Dad.”

“Okay, sealed shut,” Gabe promised, invoking their child hood code.

“I had to go in after one of my guys who got hurt. The building came down on us as we were getting out.”

“And what happened to you?”

“Nothing serious,” Nick said. “A few burns and bruises. It looked worse than it was—the people on the outside thought we both bit the big one. Sloane bolted.”

“Well, you’ve got to admit, it would give a person pause. If the idea of waking up with you didn’t do it already.”

“She lost her brother in that Hartford fire a couple of years back. What I do gives her bad vibes, I guess.”

“It’s not as simple as what you do. It’s what you are.”

Nick let out a long breath. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

Gabe had never heard Nick sound quite so miserable. “Did she ask you to quit?”

“She says that she knows I couldn’t.”

“At least she gets it.”

“That doesn’t really help,” Nick said with a little edge.

“I know.” Gabe paused. “Do you love this woman?”

“Yes.” Nick’s answer was calm, immediate, without question.

“Then go after her.” Relationships had always seemed simple to Gabe. You were interested in a woman, you asked her out. If it worked, you kept at it until it no longer did. Eventually, you found a keeper.

Unless the one you were interested in was completely off-limits. Gabe shook his head. “Talk to her, change her mind.”

“It’s not that easy, charm boy. I can’t push her into living with a firefighter any more than she would push me into quitting. She’s got to come to it on her own. If she ever does.”

“While you just sit and wait?”

“While I just sit and wait.”

“You’re not exactly a waiting type.”

“You’ve noticed?”

Because he knew arguments would be futile, Gabe didn’t bother. “That sucks, man.”

Nick sighed. “Yeah, it does. What about you—are you stuck with this situation?”

“Unless I want to get another job.”

“Do you want another job?”

“I don’t know. I love this place. If I left, I’d feel like I’d let down the old owner and the staff. And the hotel itself.”

“You ever going to stop trying to take care of everyone?”

“You ever going to stop risking your neck trying to save people?” Gabe asked by way of answer.

“At least I get paid for it.”

“I do, too, most of the time.”

“So what are you going to do about your goddess?”

“I don’t know. Try to do my job. Try to keep her from doing too much damage.” Try to erase Saturday from his memory.

“Show her what matters to you about the hotel. Maybe it’ll become important to her, too.”

What he loved about the hotel was the romance, the history of it. The way he’d felt on the dance floor with Hadley in his arms. The hotel belonged to lovers. If he could make her feel that, really feel it all the way through, maybe they had a chance. “I’ll give it a try,” he said thoughtfully. “Hey, Nick?”

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you come up and ski next time you’re off? Beat the hell out of yourself on the mountain. It might not make things better, but it’ll sure as hell be a distraction.”

“Maybe I will,” Nick said. “Maybe I will.”

Chapter Five

He’d had plenty of relationships in his time. Some had gone fast and furious, starting with a crackle and flaming out within weeks. Others had been slower burns that built and radiated heat long after the fire had begun to go out. He’d orchestrated seductions before, taken pains to give someone he cared about a special experience, a special evening.

He’d never worked to make a woman fall in love with an idea before.

It could work, he told himself. The woman he’d met on the back deck, the one with the fey faerie eyes, would fall for the romance of the Mount Jefferson. The question was whether he could make the businesswoman fall with her.

Gabe glanced at his computer clock. It was after eight, their planned meeting time, and she still hadn’t shown. Interesting. He’d have picked her as the sort to be relentlessly punctual. Thoughtfully, he rose to walk across the hall.

And saw her striding toward him over the twining vines of the burgundy carpet, wholly focused on the cell phone clamped to her ear. “Well, if you’re not getting a straight answer, I’d suggest flying to Johannesburg,” she told whoever was on the line. Today, her hair was swept up, her suit a cool ice-blue.

Her manner, however, belied the calm. Tension tightened her shoulders; her eyes narrowed in irritation. “Eliot, you’re head of Becheron now, not me. I got moved to another project, remember? If you’ve got problems, you’ll have to work them out yourself.”

Gabe raised a brow as she disconnected.

Hadley stared at the ceiling for a moment and took a deep breath. “Sorry I’m late.” Her voice was brisk, but frustration still lingered as she walked into his office.

“Not a crisis.” I got moved to another project, remember? He’d done his homework the night before. Becheron was the fifth largest division at Stone. How did a corporate hotshot go from heading up a marquee division to running a hotel that represented—how had she put it? A fraction of a percent of their holdings? She was on another project, all right, which might have explained some of the wistfulness. He felt a quick tug of sympathy. But only a small one. “Coffee?”

“Please.”

He turned to the coffeemaker that sat on a little table behind his desk, and poured her a cup. “Everybody’s got their weakness,” he said. “I’m a coffee snob. Cream or sugar?”

She took the mug from him. “Black will do, thank you.” She shot him a suspicious look as she sat. “You’re all sweetness and light this morning.”

“Sounds like you could use it after that phone call.”

“It’s nothing.” But she couldn’t quite shrug it off, Gabe saw. No swingy earrings today, but discreet diamond studs to go with the stylishly discreet suit.

“So we’ve got a problem to solve. Where do we start?”

Hadley opened her portfolio. “I printed out a list of the target numbers for the next four quarters.”

Gabe took the sheet and scanned it, resisting the urge to whistle. “You realize, of course, that a healthy business plan lasts longer than four quarters.”

“Of course, but the Hotel Mount Jefferson is no longer private. It’s part of Stone Enterprises, and the Stone stock price swings with the quarterly financials. We can’t afford to ignore them.”

The thing to do was to show her that it was in her best interests. “What would you say to a revised business plan that offered less short-term growth but substantially more in the long term?”

“I’d suggest you should update your résumé before you mention it again.”

He shot a quick glance at her. “They’re that tough?”

“I’m that tough.” She stared back at him coolly. He thought of the way she’d looked on the dance floor. What would it be like to melt that coolness, he wondered suddenly. To have her heated and gasping in his arms? “The first thing you should understand,” she continued, “is that the numbers are the numbers. We’re going to meet them.”

“Why do I hear an ‘or else’ in there somewhere?”

“There isn’t an ‘or else’ because it’s not going to be necessary. I’ve been up against aggressive targets like this before. It’s not impossible. Management just has to be committed to meeting our goal.”

“What I’m committed to is this hotel.” Time to draw a line in the sand. “If its survival means meeting your targets, then by all means, let’s find a way to do it. I warn you, though, I’m going to fight like hell against anything that’s going to turn the hotel back into the shape it was when Whit bought it.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“I always did like an optimist.”

The sudden, wry glance he gave Hadley sent something skittering around in her stomach. None of that butterfly nonsense today, she thought impatiently. Today was for business.

It would have been easier if he’d been properly dressed. Instead, he sat in shirtsleeves, his suspenders dark and silky against the pin-striped cotton dress shirt, his suit coat hanging over a little rack in the corner. She’d always had a thing for men in ties and suspenders, the kind that buttoned into the trousers with the leather loops. It wasn’t him, it was just his clothing.

And then he threw her a glance and she felt the adrenaline rush in her veins. Not him, her ass.

Ignore it, she reminded herself. “Let’s get to work. I’d like to go over the books so I know the exact numbers we’re dealing with. The only financials I’ve seen are about six months out-of-date. Can your assistant set up a meet with the CFO?”

“You can set something up with him yourself. Our weekly department heads’ meeting starts in about five minutes. I figured it would be a good primer.”

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