French Roast (13 page)

Chapter 16

T
he small talk irritated the heck out of Jill, especially since she was dying to know what Mac wanted from her, but he didn’t seem to be in any hurry. They were lunching in a five-star restaurant illuminated by cozy gas lighting yet decorated with modern art—a compelling contrast to her artistic eye. He controlled the conversation, asking her about herself, her family, Dare. Jill suspected he already knew most of the answers, but his interest didn’t waver, his charm didn’t fade.

She poked at her roasted chicken, not wanting to rock the conversation boat. “I’m curious why you dropped out of Princeton when you had a full scholarship. That’s when you hit the poker circuit, right? Were you bored with school? ‘Cause you’re talking to someone who totally understands.”

He was silent for so long she wasn’t sure he would reply. Then he set aside his silverware. “Since you have a strong sense of family, I’ll tell you. My sister, Abbie, got pregnant in high school. There were some…medical issues. We didn’t have insurance. My father was a small-time gambler in Atlantic City who had more ups than downs. I’d sworn never to become drawn into that world after he left us. The only problem was I’d shown an innate skill at cards. Some parents sing nursery rhymes to their kids. I played cards with mine. My mother was a dealer. She died when I was ten. Dad left when I was sixteen, telling me I was old enough to take care of things. Abbie was twelve then.”

Jill felt a surge of gratitude for her loving parents and happy childhood, and just like that, Brian popped into her mind again. She wished she could wave a wand for people whose parents totally sucked. “That must have been tough.”

He shifted when the sun came out from behind a cloud, streaming through the windows. “My nephew, Dustin, was premature. There were complications. The bills started mounting, and the two jobs I worked couldn’t make a dent, so I did something I’d sworn I’d never do. I went to Atlantic City—our hometown—with the mad idea that I could grow the measly savings we had into the funds we needed to pay her medical bills.”

Jill smoothed her hands in her lap, trying to imagine how much pressure he’d been under.

“I didn’t get what we needed overnight, but I grew it over three months. My classes were in jeopardy, so I took a leave of absence.” He smiled in an absent way—he must have thought of something private and amusing. “By then I couldn’t deny the truth. I loved poker. I was like Moses in the Sinai finding his inner calling. It wasn’t an easy transition, but my sister and nephew needed more care, so I could justify my choice. When everything…settled down, I’d developed a certain reputation and received invitations to other events.” His gaze returned to her. “The rest, as they say, is history.”

Wow, talk about will power. “That’s quite a story. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t impressed.”

“That’s not why I told you the truth. You wouldn’t want to work with someone you couldn’t trust.”

Brian came to mind. Wasn’t that one of the reasons she was sitting here with Mac and not trying to iron out their different visions for the restaurant? She tapped her fingers on the table. “You’re right. It’s a bit scary how well you read people.”

His chuckle was as inviting as wind chimes on a breezy spring day. “I usually don’t share my observations, but I know I only have one shot with you.”

“So what did you major in when you were at Princeton?”

“Engineering. I always wanted to build things.”

“And now you do.”

“Yes,” he murmured, inclining his fork.

They continued to eat. Her stomach couldn’t quite settle even though she’d opted for the blandest thing on the menu. No sleep. Too much caffeine. Personal stress. Not appetite material. He coaxed her into looking at the dessert menu. On any other day, she’d have jumped at the pumpkin soufflé.

“Your mind is working overtime,” he finally said after the waiter set down his espresso.

Yes, it was. The coffee scent tickled her nose. The restaurant used a roasted blend of Kenyan and Guatemalan beans, she’d guess. Not too strong or smoky. An Italian would liken it to piss water, but it worked for Americans.

“What are you smiling at?” He cocked his head to the side in that intense way he had. Funny how it reminded her of Tanner.

“I was deciphering the beans in this espresso.”

“And your guess?”

She told him. He signaled the waiter over and conveyed her assessment.

“Your guest is correct, Mr. Maven,” the waiter responded when he returned. He set down a plate of small chocolate coins dotted with espresso beans. “The chef’s compliment. For the lady’s good nose.”

Delight at being right prompted her to sample her prize. Perhaps the chocolate would calm her stomach. Unleash those chemicals it was so famous for. “Why did you ask?”

Mac drained his espresso and leaned back in his chair. “I can’t help it. It’s like calling someone’s hand.”

“So the hand went to me.” She rolled the coin with her tongue.

“It shows you know your business. May I share the chocolate?”

She extended the silver dish, ready to get down to business. “Do you finally want to tell me a little more about what you have in mind?”

“That’s good chocolate.” He threw his napkin on the table with an easy flick of the wrist. “I assume you know of The Grand Mountain Hotel.”

Well, that was totally weird. Why was he interested in that run-down, haunted old place? “Of course. We call it Pincari’s folly.” Her brows drew together as she tried to recall the local history. “Robert Pincari had some cockamamie idea he could build a European mountain resort in Colorado in the 1920s. His family owned some gambling places when Denver was a big venue. He spent tons of money on it and drew in a motley clientele, from mobsters to East-coast businessmen. The resort combined skiing and vice.”

“Exactly. I’m impressed.”

Cheered by his praise, she decided to share the rest of what she remembered. “Don’t be. It’s my journalist family rubbing off on me. Pincari lost a chunk in the crash of 1929, but he couldn’t sell the hotel, so he tried to keep it open. There was a ghastly murder in it a few years later. Some gangster. A local disappeared too—can’t recall the family now. I think they moved away. Isn’t that terrible?”

Since he gave no agreement, she continued, “Pincari closed the hotel shortly thereafter.” She snorted. “Everyone in Dare thinks it’s haunted.”

“Interesting.” His face didn’t give anything away. No urbane charm now. “And why is that?”

His intensity had her wondering if he was into ghost hunting like the other tourists who pestered her with questions when they visited the coffee shop. She shrugged. “My grandpa talks about people sneaking up there to make out or scavenge around. People came back with tall tales. Moaning sounds. Shrieking laughter. That kind of nonsense. It’s a wreck now.” She leaned forward, beyond curious. “Why do you ask?”

“I’ve put in a conditional offer to buy it,” he responded like he hadn’t said the most asinine thing in the world.

Her mouth dropped open—totally unprofessional. “Are you kidding? It’s a disaster! I know it’s only a few miles out of town, but it’s a dead loss, investment wise.” Reigning in her babbling, she took a long breath. “Okay, you’re a smart man. Why?”

“The gambling license comes with the hotel. It’s grandfathered in. I informed the Colorado Gaming Commission that I’m going to rebuild it once I get Dare’s city council to approve the restoration plans. Everything is contingent.”

Holy. Shit
. This was huge! Her hands grew damp just imagining the boost it would give Dare. Her town couldn’t compete with Aspen or Breckenridge, but with a restored poker hotel in the mountains, it would be a unique tourist attraction. She could already hear cash registers in town ringing from the influx.

Mac made room on the table for his briefcase. “The hotel is
not
a dead-loss. Trust me, I’ve checked.” His wink competed with the twinkle in his eyes. “It’s made of brick, so it will be easy to strip it down to the frame. Gut everything. The main highway up the canyon makes the road to the hotel 1.3 miles now. I can pave that. Taking away some of the 150 rooms, I can convert some of the space into the club I want. The original plan had only one restaurant, which I’d expand.”

He drew out sketches from his briefcase. Jill marveled at how far along his plans had come. She’d seen black-and-white photos of the hotel at
The Independent
. The face-lift Mac had designed was guaranteed to make the hotel a showstopper again.

“The restaurant will be in the left wing. The club will flank the right side, back against the open valley, so the noise won’t echo. The poker floor will have a combination of open rooms and private spaces. And of course, we’ll have a spa, health club, and swimming pool.”

Freaking cool.

His smile flashed when he raised his head. Then he focused on the sketches again, his finger pointing to different parts. “Pincari laid five miles of ski lifts, which we’ll re-secure. The trails will be cleared. In summer, people can go to the top of the mountain, do some hiking.”

“What about parking? People have a hell of a lot more cars now than they did back then.”

“Didn’t I say you had first-class smarts? We’ll add onto the back. Here, between the right side of the hotel and the start of the mountain. We’ll also run a shuttle service from Denver airport and downtown Dare.”

Sweat broke out on her palms. She rubbed them on her skirt. He was already including her in his vision. Her brain made the leap, imagining it all. She could see herself in front of the hotel. Thousands of questions swirled, but only one mattered. “Why do you want me involved and in what capacity?”

The way he sat perfectly still was unnerving. He could have taught yoga.

“I can’t make it feel like a Dare institution or have the Dare stamp of approval without the help of a local.”

She gave a slow nod. “So, you want my expertise in making this palatable to Dare citizens?”

“Not just that. I want you to be the creative manager, putting your special touch on the property, like how you’ve made Don’t Soy with Me a local meeting place and not just a coffee shop. Things like what music the club should play, what menu and spa services will draw in locals. You’ll have a sense of how it should look, feel, and taste.”

It was even more incredible than she could have imagined. Her feet tapped on the floor.

He reached into his briefcase and pulled out an envelope. Inside were sepia photos from a different time. The hotel at its finest. Women in long velvet skirts and hats dotted with swirling feathers. Men in pin-striped suits and Fedoras. Antique automobiles with running boards as long as bridal trains flanked the drive. When she stared at the pictures, she could almost hear a crackling radio playing a jazz hit by Al Jolson.

“I’ll also want you to greet guests, especially the locals. Make them feel at home. I had Jack do a little scouting for me in Dare because I didn’t want to risk anyone recognizing me. Even poker players have followings, although the whole thing makes me uncomfortable. Anyway, the first thing he told me about you was that you know the name of every customer who walks into your shop, and if you don’t, you immediately introduce yourself. You know what they order, who they’re dating, what their story is. That’s a special gift. I want it at The Grand Mountain Hotel.”

Everything within her went still. This was the chance of a lifetime. She could stay in Dare and become a world-class businesswoman. It would allow her to achieve far more than she could alone…or with Brian.

Right. Brian. “It sounds incredible.” She gripped her napkin with a fist. “What are your plans for the restaurant? Would you be open to having a local chef run the kitchen?”

“I usually bring in someone from the outside who has a strong culinary reputation.” He steepled his hands. “Let’s cut to the chase. You’re asking if I would consider Brian McConnell for the position. Jack mentioned you were exploring the idea of opening a restaurant together.”

Of course he had. He’d been the scout. “Yes.”

“I checked into Brian’s background before our meeting, sensing this might come up. His reputation among elite chefs isn’t the hottest. There were some problems at his last restaurant. I don’t want any complications like that. Plus, I usually hire someone with significant head chef experience. I wish it were different, Jill.”

Well, their partnership seemed like it was over now anyway. At least she’d tried. Jill threw her napkin aside. “It sounds incredible, but I’d like to take some time to think about it.” She’d already made one impulsive act. No need to do two in twenty four hours.

“Understood.” He handed her some papers. “Here’s the formal offer, which is negotiable. I really want you to be involved, Jill. Read it over. Then we can talk more. You’ll find I’m willing to go to great lengths to have you involved.”

It was awesome to be wanted.

Mac took care of the bill. “I hope you enjoyed your lunch.”

She stood up, her palms damp again. “It was excellent.”

“Why don’t you spend the rest of the afternoon at the spa in the hotel next door? I have an account there. Relax. Think it over. If you don’t want to drive back to Dare, spend the night. Just use my name to secure a room. We could meet again in the morning.”

Not heading back to Dare sounded like a great plan. “I’ll stay over, but I’ll need more than a day to think things through.”

Mac helped her with her coat. “Fine, but I need a decision quickly. I have some friends at the Gaming Commission who are going over our plans to make sure there won’t be any state concerns. Once that’s done, I’ll submit them officially. Then I’ll take them to Dare. This whole deal has three weeks to come together.”

That was fast. She clutched her purse. “Only three weeks?”

He snapped his briefcase shut. “I don’t like to waste time. My offer’s contingent on everything falling into place. I don’t want the city council to draw this out. They either like my plans, or they don’t. And if I put a shorter time limit on the decision, there’s less time for any opposition to mobilize.”

This was the big leagues. What a learning opportunity. “So, the council either agrees or you walk.” Her low whistle turned a few heads. “That will make folks jump.”