Under The Mistletoe

And yes, there was a carved granite fireplace with a leaping blaze. All she needed was a fancy-dress ball and a hot toddy before bed to make the fantasy complete.

Shaking her head, Hadley approached the front desk.

“Welcome to the Hotel Mount Jefferson.” The young, au burn-haired and obviously pregnant clerk gave her a friendly smile. Angie from Albany, or so her badge said.

“Checking in, name of Stone,” Hadley said, sliding her credit card over the polished wood. “I know I’m early but I was hoping you might have something ready.”

Angie looked at her apologetically. “I can take your card and get you signed in, but we won’t have any rooms ready in your class until at least two-thirty. I’m sorry, but we just had a big group check out. We were full up last night.”

Impressed despite herself, Hadley raised a brow. “Full?”

“Oh yes. A big corporate meeting.”

Hundred percent occupancy, Hadley mused. Perhaps things weren’t quite hopeless. Maybe it was just a matter of making some cuts to control costs, and things would be fine.

“All right, you’re all set.” Angie handed her card back. “If you’ll just come by at two-thirty, we should be able to get you in. In the meantime, Cortland’s downstairs is open for lunch, and we have a complimentary afternoon tea at two. We also have changing rooms if you want to go ski. The shuttle runs to the slopes about every fifteen minutes.”

Balls. Afternoon tea. Hot toddies by the fire. “Thank you so much,” Hadley said. “It’s perfect.”

Afternoon tea was set up in the semicircular conservatory that arched off the lobby, a fantasy of white wicker and greenery. Hadley poured a cup of Earl Grey and picked up a pair of the pretty little tea sandwiches. Gorgonzola and pear on rye, watercress on white, no crusts. Balancing plates, she settled in a chair near one of the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows. The view was breathtaking, the snow-topped mountains across the valley practically sitting in her lap.

A burst of laughter had her glancing over at a couple settled side by side on a wicker love seat. And for a sudden, lost moment, she imagined herself as the pretty young blonde, sitting next to the handsome man who looked at her with love.

Hadley’s pleasure fizzled as her imagination suddenly failed her. She stared at the couple as though they were exotic creatures at the zoo. Were they really happy? How long would it last? “You have too much money,” her father reminded her often. “You have to be cautious.” Which was an easy thing to do with the men she ran into, who either feared her or pursued her for the thrill of getting near Robert Stone.

Anyway, what was she really missing? An icy détente like her parents’ marriage? Any of the countless paths to divorce that she’d seen her relatives and acquaintances follow? Acquaintances, because she hadn’t become friends with anyone since she’d left school, her classmates scattered to whatever ports of luxury or business they or their families fancied. There had never been time. It was hard to hook up for dinner when you were always on a plane somewhere or staying in the office late for a telecon with the Tokyo office.

It was easy to fall into the trap of wishing for love, here in a place outfitted like a movie set. For wasn’t that what love was—a movie fantasy? Among real people, infatuation waned and affection was always conditional; she’d learned that lesson long ago. It depended on what you could do for people. Far safer to remain on her own.

Even though she always had had a soft spot for the movies…

Setting aside her teacup, Hadley rose. It was just the demotion, that was all. A walk would get her out of this funk. A walk and a chance for some fresh air would make her stop taking stock of her life and coming up wanting.

Gabe pulled the truck into its parking place at the side of the hotel and turned off the engine, rolling his shoulders to relax them. He hadn’t really meant the part about driving the laundry himself, but who’d have figured that he didn’t have anyone in the place with a Class A truck license? He definitely wasn’t crazy about being away from the hotel for several hours in the middle of the day. Cell phone reception was so bad in the mountains that he could hardly connect most of the time.

If he had to be away, at least he had the staff for it. He’d never understood managers who preferred to surround themselves with ineffectual subordinates. He wanted people who knew how to think, who could act without direction when necessary. Management held challenges enough without setting up a brainless ant colony that fell apart when you weren’t around.

As a result, he’d been able to mostly enjoy what was a gorgeous day, with a sky so brilliantly blue it hurt the eyes, and a snow-covered landscape still new enough to be charming. It had felt kind of like playing hooky. The brightly clad figures whizzing down the slopes of the ski area opposite the hotel reminded him that working Saturday wasn’t normal for everybody. One of these days he needed to find time for the slopes.

For now, he climbed down out of the truck, slipping on his bomber jacket to ward off the outside chill. A quick stop at the manager’s house to put his suit on again and he’d be back in business. Gabe skirted the rear of the hotel, heading toward the path that led to the three-story farmhouse that predated the hotel. Free on-site housing in very plush digs, one of the bennies of the job. Of course, it worked for the ownership, given that he was around 24/7 in case of crisis.

Ownership, he thought, and felt the familiar tug of regret.

It wasn’t going to be the same without Whit Stone. Lost friends, new challenges. Still, the hotel was a constant. He turned to look at it in all its palatial whiteness.

It wasn’t the view of the hotel that made his footsteps slow then, but the figure on the little loading dock outside the employee entrance. A woman, standing with her arms wrapped around herself in the winter cold, strands of her pale hair shifting in the breeze. She wasn’t staff. He knew the face and name of every person who worked for him. It was a point of pride. This woman he’d never seen before.

He’d have remembered.

She gazed at the sweep of the Presidential Range behind him, her face angled a little away. She looked like a faerie come down from the mountain, all silvery-blond hair and pale skin, wrapped about in a cape of dark green. There was a magic there that drew him, something compelling in the tilt of her eyes, the temptation of her lips.

Then she turned her head a bit and he saw the faint air of wistfulness that hovered around her mouth and shadowed her eyes.

Without conscious decision, he headed toward her.

She probably wasn’t supposed to be in this area of the hotel, but it was the only place Hadley had found that had the view she wanted and an absence of people. She’d get over her funk as soon as she started working. It was just the unfamiliar experience of having time to herself that was throwing her off.

The air was crisp and cold enough that her breath created a white plume each time she exhaled. So beautiful, the sweep of valley, the rise of the mountains, the snow-iced trees. She stared out at the panorama, wishing she knew how to draw, to capture that sweeping vista, that soaring openness in practiced, flowing strokes.

“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” a voice said.

Hadley jumped and stared at the man who approached her on the flagstone path. Beautiful view? Beautiful man, more like it. It was almost bad form to be that gorgeous outside of a movie or a magazine. Tall, dark and handsome was such a cliché, she wanted to tell him. Maybe she would.

If she could get her tongue to work.

“Sorry I startled you.”

She moved her head, the desire to avoid attention immediate. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people. It isn’t polite.” Which was a good thing; after all, there had to be something wrong with anyone who was that perfect looking, all cheekbones and honed jaw, dark hair flopping down over his forehead.

The humor in his eyes only made him more attractive. “Well, I can’t have that said of me. Please accept my apologies.”

“Maybe.” She hadn’t heard him approach; he’d just been there, long and lean in his charcoal crewneck and expensive leather jacket. Not a staff member, not with that kind of clothing. She recognized designer quality when she saw it.

“So are you blowing off the Employees Only sign?”

“I wanted to see the mountains.”

“I don’t blame you. But I’m betting there are better places to do it here. Places where the heat’s on, for example.” His feet crunched on the flagstone path as he crossed it and came to a stop before the railing behind which she stood.

“You’re outside.”

He looked up at her, one corner of his mouth turning up. “Only for as long as it takes me to find a door.”

If he’d stepped just a bit closer she could have moved her hands from the railing and pushed his dark hair back off his forehead. She stared at him, wondering if his eyes were really that green or they just looked that way because of the backdrop of pines. The sudden pull that she felt caught her by surprise. “I’m fine,” Hadley said, putting her hands in her pockets. “It was just too crowded inside.”

“A loner.” He nodded as though confirming something to himself.

“Or choosy.”

“Is that a polite way of telling me to get lost?”

Not yet. She wasn’t ready for this to end. “It’s a public place. You pay the rates, you ought to be able to go anywhere you want, I guess.”

“Well, it is pretty here. I like the view.”

“But you’re not even looking at the mountains.”

He grinned. “You noticed that?”

Hadley felt the flush creeping across her cheekbones and, dammit, she couldn’t help smiling back. She could just imagine what Robert would say. She was on assignment. She was supposed to be working, not flirting.

Flirting was foolish, anyway. There was a girlfriend somewhere, had to be. Men who looked like him didn’t come to places like the Mount Jefferson solo. She had no business looking at his mouth and wondering just how it tasted. She had no business talking to him at all.

She belonged in a winter landscape, Gabe thought, with her white-blond hair and those gray eyes. The soft, wistful gaze was gone now, replaced by a guarded expression he felt an illogical urge to wipe away. He’d seen the startled look flash across her face a few seconds before, though, had seen her eyes darken. As hotel manager, Gabe was always talking to guests, but his interest in her was far from professional.

Down, boy.

Okay, he was a grown-up. He could chat with her a little bit without drooling all over her. After all, charming the guests was his job. “Well, I guess you’re right to enjoy the blue skies while you can. I hear it’s supposed to snow tonight,” he said.

Her expression brightened. “Really? I love winter, it’s my favorite time of year. I envy anyone who gets to live here.”

“Of course, you don’t have to shovel snow for five months running.”

She laughed, and Gabe felt the jolt right down to his toes. Forget all the foolish stuff about faeries and pixies. With her eyes dancing as she looked down at him, she was flat-out beautiful. “Spoken like someone who lives in snow country. Look at it as a cheap way to get in shape. Some people spend money on health clubs.”

He shook his head. “I grew up on a farm. I always swore I’d never pay good money to lift weights.” He had grown up on a farm, and he’d left it as soon as he decently could. If he could point to any one character flaw, it would be an unreasonable affection for luxury. He was happy to work hard, as long as it was on his own terms. The Hotel Mount Jefferson suited him like a comfortable pair of shoes.

“Where I live,” she said, “snow’s rare enough to be fun.”

“Where’s that?”

“Manhattan.”

He wouldn’t have picked her for a city girl. She belonged in this kind of setting, among mountains and snow. “It’s not that rare there. It’s just that the city clears it away as quickly as they can.”

She opened her mouth to speak, then looked beyond him, her eyes widening in alarm. “Oh God, there’s a fire. Look.” She pointed at the plume of smoke that rose from the distant slope.

Gabe peered at it. “That’s not a fire, that’s the engine from the cog railway.”

“The cog railway?”

“There’s an old railway up there. It’s open now for skiers.”

“A train goes up the side of that mountain?” she asked, staring at the steep slope that rose from the forested valley.

“All the way to the top, in summer. You can only ride it half way this time of year. Ski down, too, if you want to. Do you ski?”

“I’ve never found the time to learn.”

“Maybe while you’re visiting. Either way, you definitely shouldn’t miss the railway.” In his pocket, his combination walkie-talkie/cell phone chirped. Gabe frowned at himself. Getting distracted chatting with a guest—however lovely—when he should be inside wasn’t like him. He’d already been gone too much that afternoon.

“Something wrong?”

“I’ve got to take this call. Excuse me.” He flipped open the phone and walked a few paces away. A consultation with the chef before dinner. Another crisis to deal with. The twinge of regret he felt surprised him. He turned back to his mystery girl. “Duty calls. Are you staying here long?”

She hesitated. “I’m not sure. A few days, at least.”

“Then back to Manhattan?”

“Of course.”

Time to go, he reminded himself. “Well, I hope I see you around before you leave,” he said.

And tried not to feel like he’d lost something as he walked away.

Chapter Two

“You look like you’re having a good afternoon,” said Angie at the front desk as Hadley walked up.

She was smiling, Hadley realized. It was probably a sad statement on the state of her personal life that it took so little to cheer her up. “Any chance you’ve got my room ready now?” she asked. “I checked in earlier.”

“Let me see.” Angie leaned awkwardly toward her computer, trying to shift her stomach out of the way. She looked very pregnant, Hadley realized—like about ten months.

Hadley cleared her throat. “I don’t mean to get personal, but should you really be up and around at this point?”

“I know,” the receptionist said in amusement. “I look like I’m ready to drop any minute. Believe it or not, I’ve got another month to go. The doctor says Trot’s going to be our New Year’s present.”

“Trot?”

“My Hank’s a Red Sox fan. I wanted to name him Milo but I didn’t have a chance.”

“Maybe he’ll be a distance runner,” Hadley said.

Angie laughed. “Maybe.” She set the room folio on the polished maple counter. “So let’s see, you’re up on the third floor.” She passed Hadley a key on an ornate brass disk the size of a coaster and gestured at the wall of numbered pigeonholes behind her. “Just drop the key here on your way out and pick it up when you’re ready to head back to your room. Any questions?”

It was a quaint arrangement that Hadley had only seen in the older hotels of Europe. Something about it made her feel connected, cared for. “I’m all set,” she told her. “Good luck with Trot.”

Angie smiled. “The elevator is behind you. Enjoy your stay.”

Next to the elevator, the broad grand staircase swept down, all rich carpeting and curving elegance. Hadley could imagine couples descending for dinner back in the old days, the women’s gloved hands on the arms of their tuxedoed escorts, their silken skirts trailing behind them as they made their entrance.

And she found herself wishing she had someone to see it with.

The polished brass doors of the elevator opened to reveal a spare-looking elderly man. “Good afternoon, miss,” he said, pulling back the accordioned metal gate. “My name’s Lester. Where can I take you?”

“Third floor, please.” Hadley stepped on and watched him shut the gate. The control panel had no buttons, just a lever, right below the inspection certificate. “So just how old is this elevator?”

“Original to the building.” He beamed. “Mr. Cortland wanted all the modern conveniences when he built the hotel. Got his friend Tom Edison to wire it for electricity.” The car began to rise smoothly. “Hot and cold running water and fire sprinklers in all of the rooms, even. That was a big deal back then.”

“How long have you worked here?”

He considered. “Oh, about fifty years. I started when she was in her prime and saw her through some dark times before Mr. Stone bought her and started turning things right.”

She should have expected it, but the name still jolted her. “You mean Whit Stone?”

“The same. Top drawer, a prince of a guy. He spent a week here every summer for almost as long as I can remember. ‘Course, when he started, I was on outside staff.” He gave a raffish smile. “These days, I have to take it easy a little.” The car stopped at her floor and Lester opened the gate. “Enjoy your stay, miss. I hope to see you again.”

A prince of a guy. Top drawer. Not exactly the way her father described Whit. Hadley crossed the octagonal elevator lobby, her mind buzzing, and went through the double doors that led to her wing. Even the third floor boasted ten-foot ceilings and hallways twice as broad as any she’d seen at a hotel before. Antique fixtures on the walls cast a soft light over the striped wallpaper and rich floral hall runner. Brass plates engraved with room numbers in curling script adorned the doors.

Hadley unlocked hers to a spill of golden sunlight through the windows that ran across nearly the entire wall. The room was enormous, bigger than the living room in her loft at home. She caught the scent of freesias from a small clutch sitting in a little vase on the bureau. A feather duvet covered the bed. Again, attention to detail. Someone cared about the guests. And in some obscure way she felt comforted, and some of her soul-sickness ebbed as she settled into one of the overstuffed wing chairs by the window.

Gabe sat at his computer. The screen displayed the previous month’s occupancy charts, but he stared into space, remembering a pair of sober gray eyes sparking into laughter. Sometimes a small taste stuck with a person longest. Amid the quiet of snow and winterscape he’d talked with her just enough to know he wanted more.

And then there was that instant when her eyes had darkened and something flashed between the two of them….

He blinked and shook his head. What he needed was to finish preparing for his department heads’ meeting, not think about guests. Off-limit guests, he reminded himself firmly. And unless his little winter faerie had some pixie dust that would help bolster his midweek occupancy, she needed to be off his mind.

The project to winterize the hotel for cold weather business five years before had cost a bundle. With Whit’s agreement, Gabe hadn’t tried to pay it off all at once, but continued to do the kind of necessary renovations a century-old building required. Whit had happily plowed most of his profits back into upkeep, hoping to rescue the Mount Jefferson from the decay it had been in when he’d bought it.

Who knew what the new owners had planned?

“Mr. Trask.”

Gabe glanced up to see his administrative assistant at the door. “Yes, Susan?”

“I just wanted to see if you needed anything before I go home.”

He glanced at his desk clock, stunned to see it was already after seven. “You were supposed to be off two hours ago.”

“What about you? You were here when I got in.”

Twelve hours and counting, to be specific. “Goes with the territory,” he said with a shrug and rose. “Anyway, I’m just about finished here. I’m going to do a quick walk-through and head out myself.”

“Mr. Trask?”

He turned in inquiry.

“You’ve lost your badge again.”

Gabe glanced down at his lapel and bit back a mild curse. He’d gotten the magnetized name tags to save wear and tear on clothing, especially his own. Unfortunately, they didn’t stick so well to jacket lapels if a person wasn’t careful about putting them on. And that afternoon, he’d been a little bit rushed and a little bit distracted by a pair of gray eyes. “Looks like the magnet flipped off again.”

Susan clicked her tongue and looked around the floor of the office for it. “Want me to see if the shop has another?”

“If no one’s turned it in by Monday. No sense in worrying about it now, though. I’m not likely to forget who I am. It’s Saturday night. Go home and relax.”

“Yes, sir.”

Someone had once said that the octagonal dining room was big enough that each end was in a different area code. It was Gabe’s last stop every night. There was something about the glow of the pale salmon walls in the soft light of chandeliers and candlelight, the semicircular Tiffany windows ringing the upper gallery where the orchestra had played back when the hotel was first open. When Gabe looked at the unapologetically opulent room, he forgot his ongoing struggle to find plasterers who could restore the complicated capitals of the pillars and the ornate ceiling medallions. He just appreciated the reminder of a more gracious time.

“Good evening, Mr. Trask,” said the maître d’.

“Good evening, Guy. How’s everything going? Full house?”

Guy’s Gallic shrug was expressive. “Eh, if I had a roomful of tables by the window, everyone would be delirious. As it is, they are merely very happy.”

“That’s the way we want to keep them.”

In the background, a four-piece combo played a complicated, syncopated tune to an empty dance floor. It wasn’t an easy composition; a tune more likely to inspire indigestion. Gabe looked over. “What exactly is that?”

“Miles Davis, I think.”

Gabe frowned as the trumpet player wandered off into a spiraling solo. While he could appreciate it as a music aficionado, he wasn’t crazy about it as a manager. “No one’s going to dance to this.”

“Just as well. Dancing…” Guy sniffed in disapproval. “People getting up, sitting down, complaining about overcooked meals because of the rewarming. We should stop it, you know.”

“Not a chance. There’s always been a dinner orchestra at the Hotel Mount Jefferson.” And there was nothing like walking in to the sound of soft music to make a guest truly feel transported, he thought.

He crossed to the bandstand as the combo finished its song and stepped down to take a break. “Richie,” he called to the trumpet player, “can you hold up a minute?”

“Sure, Mr. Trask,” said the ponytailed redhead. “We just thought we’d take five.”

“Sure. How’s it going?”

Richie shrugged and looked across the dining room. “Not too many takers tonight. They like the music, I assume—I hope—but it would be nice to get some people on the floor.”

Talented, Gabe thought. A bit temperamental and insecure, as all good musicians were. “Then you need to play dance music.”

He flushed a little and straightened his tie. “We started out with the usual. No one came up so we thought we’d just get a little of the rust off.”

“Do that on your midweek gigs,” Gabe advised. “You don’t have to play standards, but stick with something that’s got a beat people can work with.”

“Even if no one dances?”

“They’ll dance if you give them the music.” Gabe glanced across the room, resigned to working it a little before he left for the night. He’d stop at the tables, chat with the guests, suggest a turn on the floor. “Come back from your break and—” Suddenly he froze, staring at a table by the window.

“Mr. Trask?”

“Play something danceable,” Gabe said slowly, absently, staring at a woman with pale hair and gray eyes. “You’ll get your dancers. I guarantee it.”

“I’m all finished,” Hadley told the waiter, gesturing to her nearly full plate.

“Was there something wrong, madam?” he asked.

Hadley shook her head. She’d eaten little, but she chalked that up to her state of mind, not the food or the menu. Dinner had actually been a pleasant surprise. She’d anticipated stodgy French or chophouse surf and turf, not an intriguing fusion menu that would have done any pricey Manhattan restaurant proud. Seared ahi tuna and Thai lobster spring rolls side by side on the menu with pecan-crusted pork loin and duck in huckleberry reduction suggested someone creative was at work. And the guests were tucking in with gusto.