Seducing the Innkeeper (At First Sight Book 3)

Seducing the Innkeeper

At First Sight Book 3

By Janet Lane-Walters

Digital ISBNs

EPUB 9781772990645

Kindle 9781772990652

WEB 9781772990669

Print ISBN 9781772990676

Copyright 2016 by Janet Lane Walters

Cover Art 2016 by Jasmin Attalla

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

* * *

Chapter One

Christa Sommers counted the receipts for the restaurant and the bar of Green Mountain Inn. She rubbed her forehead and stared at the totals. As she matched the copies of the bills with the cash and credit card slips she clenched her teeth. Someone had slipped with a heavy hand into the cash and she knew the identity of the culprit or culprits. A hundred dollars short. Last week the shortage had been nearly four hundred.

She reached for the stack of just paid bills. For the fourth month she had to use money from the room rentals to cover the bar and restaurant expenses. Her stomach roiled. The time had come to inform the thieves and ignore the guilt trip they would attempt to use again. This time she wouldn’t cave. She might even call the police. But they were family and she had very few relatives.

“Mom, when are we leaving?”

Christa smiled at her son. “Give me ten minutes.” She tousled Davy’s blonde hair and felt a pang of regret. He looked so much like the father he didn’t know.

Do not walk that road.
She had no time for regrets. She wrote the last check and sealed the envelope. After putting the money and credit card slips in a deposit bag she reached for her jacket.

Before she and Davy reached the office door her half-sisters barged into the room. She looked at her son.  He didn’t need to hear another quarrel with the pair. “Davy, wait for me outside.”

He glared at the two young women. “Okay.”

Christa cleared her throat. “Just what is your problem today?” She waited for one of them to speak.

“You have to look at this brochure.” Peggy waved a paper. “This is absolutely what Stel and I need to survive boredom. The guests who stay here are old.”

“We need to have some fun,” Stella added. “Meet young and very eligible guys.”

“No cruise.” Christa noted the prices. “This is out of the question.” Though the guests who come to view the fall foliage were older they were little problem. “I’m no longer paying for your fun and games.”

“Why not?” Stella fisted her hands on her hips. “You owe us. Remember where you were when Mom and Dad died. We were left alone and ended in that place for six weeks.”

Christa swallowed. She wouldn’t bite this time “I said so. You need to find jobs.”

“We have them here,” Peggy said.

Stella sneered. “Right. Steering old people to tables and running the cash drawer. Getting paid pennies. All we need is a few thou.”

Christa shook her head. “Not possible. We need to discuss the money that’s missing from the restaurant and bar registers. There are discrepancies.”

Peggy stepped closer. “If people didn’t use credit cards we could have all we want.”

Stella nodded. “She’s right. We just need a vacation. A singles’ cruise is perfect. We might find the right men.”

Christa remembered the bills from the vacation the pair had taken in June to celebrate Peggy’s college graduation. And the problems presented by the two men who had followed them to the inn hoping to share the bounty. At twenty-two and twenty-three her half sisters were selfish and self-centered. When would they stop blaming her for an accident that hadn’t been her fault? She had been out of touch when they’d needed her. The single time had happened years ago. The time had come for them to be responsible for their own lives.

Peggy planted her hands on the desk. “Why do we always have to fight for our share of the inn’s profits?”

Christa drew a deep breath. “You have no share.”

“So you say.” Stella glared. “On Monday we’re calling a lawyer.”

“Go ahead. Do that instead of taking the path you need to find jobs.” There she’d said what she’d avoided since Peggy had graduated in June.

“What are you talking about?” Stella’s voice rose to a strident pitch. “We own more of this dump than you. Mom said no matter what happened to Dad we were set for life.”

“She lied.” Christa knew her father had told his second wife lies about the ownership of the inn. Until his death he’d been her guardian with no more than a life tenancy. After his death she’d learned her mother had left the inn to her. “You also need to know the inn is for sale.”

“You can’t do that,” Peggy said.

“We won’t sign,” Stella added.

“Your signatures aren’t needed. Now hear this.” Before she could tell them her next part of the offer the pair stomped away.

Christa slumped in a chair. Their anger and the thefts weren’t her fault except she had allowed the pilfering to continue all summer. She had meant to tell them the moment Peggy had graduated from college. As usual she had tabled the confrontation. No longer. They had to learn their free-loading days had ended.

“Mom, when are we going?”

“Now.” She grabbed the stack of envelopes and the deposit bag and followed her son to the Jeep. A grin turned her lips upward. She had finally grown a spine. The trick was finding a way to keep the bones firmly in place.

* * *

Mark Blakefield sat behind the desk in his office. He listened to his senior writer describe his New England vacation. “Found the Green Mountain Inn on our last day of exploring places for a feature in Good Travelin’.

“Impressive was it?” Mark asked.

“Owned by a single mom. Been in her family for generations. Lots of history. An inn for all seasons. Fabulous food. Scenic vistas. Spring, leaf peeping, lake with boats, fishing, hike and riding trails. Snapped a bunch of photos.” He slid a stack across the desk. “Have a look. Owner’s easy on the eyes.”

Mark stared at the stack. Why did Jonas insist on using a camera with film when phones and digital cameras were available? Mark tapped the desk. “What did your wife say?”

The older man winked. “She liked the idea of you heading there.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “The pair of you on another match-making junket?”

Jonas shrugged. “She thought you’d like the lady.”

“I’ll check the photos and see if the place deserves a feature.”

“And I’ll wait to hear.” Jonas strolled to the door.

Mark turned the photos over one by one. The leaves on the hillside had just begun to turn. Another showed a lake shimmering in the sunlight. He studied several shots of a large inn. Another showed a garden, a two story house and several cottages. Buried near the end of the stack he found a picture of a boy around nine or ten mugging for the camera. He stared at the next picture. A woman stood beside the boy. Mark’s jaw clenched.

“Damn her.” What was Christa Parsons doing at this inn? Mark opened his laptop and started a search for directions. Was the woman really Christa? Could he be mistaken? Had he forgotten what she looked like?
Not possible.
Her face and her body were engraved in all his cells. He printed the directions. With the photo of the boy in one hand and his laptop in the other he strode to the door. He stopped at his secretary’s desk. “I’ll be out of town for several days. Maybe a week.”

“Where should I say you are?”

“Just a phone call, a text or an email away.”

He didn’t wait for the elevator but took the stairs to the basement parking garage. He sped from his spot into a traffic nightmare. Honking horns, screeching brakes and raised fists and middle fingers sent him on his way until he reached the saner major highway. When he reached his condo he felt as if he’d fought a war. He dashed inside, packed and settled at the kitchen table. After zapping a frozen burger he headed to the living room and removed a picture form the photo album on the coffee table.

Back in the kitchen he stared at the two pictures.
Had to be.
Why hadn’t she told him? He intended to learn the answer to that and to a dozen other questions. He tucked the photographs in his jacket pocket, grabbed a six pack and a tin of cookies. With the burger in a hand he loaded everything in the trunk of his silver sports’ car. He slid behind the wheel.
Christa Parsons had some explaining to do.

Though eight P.M. was a bit late to start the trip a touch of anger and impatience to know why spurred him on. His need for action prodded. He couldn’t sit at home and brood while he asked his friend, Jules, to investigate.

Why hadn’t she called him? Why had she vanished without a word?

For ten years her disappearance had puzzled him. Had the fault been his?

His thoughts drifted to the days of falling in love. As per the Blakefield curse one look and he had fallen hard and fast. They’d spent a long weekend of mind-blowing sex. There had been more than physical attraction. Their likes and dislikes had meshed. The ending had been abrupt and brutal.

She’d run to her dorm to change clothes. As he’d left to pick her up for dinner his friend Tony had returned from the beach. His brother, Matt had called with news. “I’m busy.” Mark remembered saying. “Got to go. I’m in love.” He’d handed Tony the phone and dashed to Christa's nearly deserted dorm. She hadn’t been there. The two people he’d encountered had never heard of Christa Parsons.

Mark revved the engine and backed into the street. Jonas had discovered the where of the missing Christa but the why remained unexplained. When had Christa Parsons become Christa Sommers? Had she married? Jonas had called her a single mother. Was there an ex lingering around. Mark couldn’t imagine anyone letting Christa go.

At midnight he found a motel, slept until six, ate breakfast and was on the road by seven. After grabbing a burger and fries at a fast food place for lunch he continued. He pulled into the parking lot of the rustic inn. The two story sprawling building had a large screened porch. Two wings spread from the central section. The number of cars in the parking lot brought a moment of concern. Were there rooms available?

He shrugged.
Didn’t matter.
If not here, he would find somewhere and haunt the inn until he knew all. As he left the car he paused and surveyed the scenery. The hills blazed with colors. Scarlet, orange and yellow were framed against a background of dark green.

Though he wasn’t amused, Mark grinned.
Christa Parsons, here I come with questions. I hope you have good reasons for your actions.

Along with his anger he felt a pulsing need. Those four days with Christa had been filled with fabulous sexy laughter and a sharing of dreams. Before he left Vermont he would know what went wrong and why she had hidden their son from him.

He dropped the keys in the pocket of his black leather jacket and strode toward the entrance. Two young women stepped onto the porch. They wore tight jeans, skinny tops and boots. Both carried jackets. As they approached he noticed a slight resemblance to Christa. Their dark brown hair lacked the strands of gold he remembered in Christa’s hair. Their features were cruder.
Sisters? Cousins?
He paused at the foot of the steps and waited for them to pass. Their voices reached him.

“I don’t understand why Christa said no.”

“If we keep on her she’ll change her mind.” The taller of the two halted. “Always works.”

“It has to. I’ll go buggy if I have to hang here much longer.” The second young woman’s shrill voice made Mark wince. “How can she say we have no share in the inn? Daddy was the owner. Mom said so. That makes us as much of an owner as she is.”

“She has to give us the money. I’m tired of being an underpaid servant.”

Mark stepped aside to let them past.
So all wasn’t perfect in Christa’s world.

The taller young woman scowled. “I’m not waiting ‘til ski season for some action.”

The second groaned. “At least this place rocks then.”

“Not if she sells.”

“We won’t let her.” She reached the bottom step, saw Mark and smiled. “Well, hello.”

“Do we know you?” the shorter one said. “You look kind of familiar. Are you staying?”

“Depends.” He brushed past them. He knew the type and he didn’t want what they offered. He strode to the door.

Just inside he stopped short. Though her back was to him he had found Christa. A battle raged in his thoughts with desire and anger stirring for top spot. His heart raced. His hands clenched. Memories of love-making rose and were countered by his knowledge of the son she’d hidden from him. His gaze roamed from her head to her spine.

She turned. Her breasts were fuller than he remembered. He recalled how they had responded to his touch. The urge to lunge across the counter and kiss her until she cried for release raged through him.

Mark stepped to the counter. “Hello Christa Parsons.”

“It’s Sommers.” She grasped the counter’s edge. “What do you want?” Her voice trembled.

He saw a flicker of fear in her blue eyes. “You have something of mine.”

“What are you talking about?”

He smiled.
She knows.
The tension in her voice and the whiteness of her knuckles showed her awareness of the reason for his presence. “A boy. Around nine years old. Blond hair. Green eyes.” He slapped the pair of photos on the counter. “Our son. Yours truly at that age. They could be twins.”

“Mark, go away.”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“How did you find us?”