Suite Embrace (9 page)

“A boyfriend?”

Skylar nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Now, she shrugged. “Sure. Why not?” She moved to sit on the floor, closer to the fire as she told him about Lewis and his infidelity while she was in the hospital. When she finished, she realized she was crying and didn't know why. She had thought everything was under control, that Lewis's betrayal was behind her, but apparently it wasn't.

 

Mark sank down beside Skylar and wrapped his arms around her from behind, holding her until she settled down.

Could he fulfill the needs of such a vibrant, lovely woman and heal her pain? Could he erase her obsessive attachment to a man who had not deserved her in the first place? All Mark could be certain of was that he planned to try, and spending as much time as possible with Skylar was the key.

“If you'll trust me, I'll help erase your fear of falling. I know I can do that in a day, but as for your broken heart…that may take some time.”

“I know it will. That's why I don't want things to move too fast. Between us. You know?”

Mark nodded his understanding. “Sure. I feel the same way. So, you'll take a ski lesson with me tomorrow?”

Skylar turned in his arms and smiled.

Mark wiped a tear from beneath her eye with the pad of his index finger.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I want to get over that fear, and then maybe I can move on to tackle other things.”

“Perfect,” Mark said, giving her a firm hug. “Ten o'clock tomorrow morning. I'll be waiting for you at Bunny Hill. Don't be late!” he said, indicating that everything was settled.

“Bunny Hill!” Skylar groaned, watching Mark closely. She knew what that meant: she'd been relegated to the status of the children, the athletically challenged—like Goldie Lamar—and seniors who probably had no business on skis. And she had to be prepared to take more orders from Mark.

T
he four-layer seaweed and mineral massage treatment at Michele-La Que's Day Spa was the most luxurious that Virina had ever experienced. The hour and a half session in the exclusive Manhattan salon was re-hydrating, rejuvenating and nourishing every cell in her jet-lagged, fifty-eight-year-old body and she was in no hurry to leave. When Thurgo, her Hungarian masseur, began to slather the musky, black mud into her upper back, Virina let out a delicious sigh and closed her eyes.

Lying facedown on the table, she let her body go limp and surrendered herself to the expert attention she knew she deserved. She wanted to be in tip-top shape and looking and feeling her best when she met Mark, after a year of long-distance, less-than-positive communication with him via e-mail and brief telephone calls. She was furious that he was acting so indifferent to her offers to help him establish himself as an instructor, since that was what he seemed determined to do. She had contacts all over the world, and knew her son could be the head of a ski school in St. Moritz or Innsbruck or Lillehammer, and not settle for a second-rate resort in a remote part of the Roaring Fork Valley that catered to God knew who! She had never met anyone who had skied Scenic Ridge and doubted she ever would.

Tapping her nails along the side of the massage table, Virina faced her dilemma head on: Mark's stunning career had kept her connected to people with wealth, social status and class, allowing her to move among them as if she, herself, were rich and famous. Over the years, she had been fortunate enough to marry both old money and new, and had luxuriated in the sense of privilege that came with each union. However, since her last divorce—from Wilhelm Willard, who claimed to be a count and a distant cousin of a Dutch prince—her funds had begun to thin out.

Soon, her contract as the face of Deleur Cosmetics would end. She'd be out of the spotlight, unattached, and facing a financial struggle that she didn't want to deal with. Her future just might depend on how well Mark married, and it looked as if she was going to have to help him choose the right woman to make sure that they both lived in the style they deserved.

But what were her son's chances of finding a rich wife at Scenic Ridge? Virina shuddered to think of how much time he had already wasted. She had to get Mark out of that place, back to Europe, or at the very least into circulation in the States among women with healthy bank accounts.

Virina's mind clicked over a list of things she needed to discuss with Mark, uppermost being Richard Nobel's documentary: pulling that project off was going to require finesse, energy and all the stamina she could muster. But it had to be done, and done correctly.

While Thurgo's fingers drummed on her skin, she let her thoughts linger on Mark a while longer. Her only son. Her only child. When she returned to Norway, she had ditched her modeling career to dedicate her life to making him a star in the sports world. Now, it would be up to her to make his star shine just as brightly in the world of entertainment. He was all she lived for. He was so handsome and talented, he deserved to be in the spotlight forever and she knew how to make such things happen.

And why shouldn't he be famous again?
His father, James Jorgen, had been the most gorgeous, witty and talented man Virina had ever met, and the qualities that had drawn her to him were present in her son.

James Jorgen, a rising designer in the California fashion industry had literally pulled Virina from the unemployment line, shoved her into one of his dresses, and pushed her onto a Beverly Hills hotel runway within hours of discovering her. His impulsive decision to use an unknown model to showcase his dresses had catapulted eighteen-year-old Virina Dagrun into the world of haute couture and saved her from the dead-end life of a struggling model working odd jobs while dreaming for a break.

She married James thirteen months after meeting him, despite objections from his parents, his sister and his two brothers, who were disappointed that James not only planned to marry a white girl, but the whitest of white girls, a pastel Norwegian blond.

Snubbing his family, the couple got married in an ocean-side cabana and flew to the East coast to settle in New York, quickly joining the fashion scene where they made a stunning entrance wherever they went.

James had been powerfully built, brown-skinned and imposing, while Virina was delicately pale and icicle thin. Adored by the snobby fashionistas and embraced by the
nouveau riche
set they ran with, life had been one big party for the striking couple…until James fell in love with an Ethiopian princess, and moved back to Africa with her, leaving Virina to raise their son, Mark, alone.

After her divorce she never saw James Jorgen again until his funeral ten years later.

Over the ensuing years, Virina married four more times, always for money, never able to recapture the kind of love she had felt for James. Mark was her gift from James, and she planned to spend her life making sure he was happy, and a big part of that meant seeing to it that he married well. The fact that he had isolated himself in an obscure resort in the Colorado Mountains didn't change a thing as far as she was concerned. As a mother, it was her responsibility to watch over her son, ensure his future, and that was exactly what she planned to do.

 

Today was Skylar's day off and Deena had invited her sister to have breakfast with her in her apartment. She was looking forward to some uninterrupted girl talk, as well as an opportunity to discuss a few hot issues related to the fast-approaching Black Winter Sports Reunion.

Scenic Ridge was hosting a kick-off party called Slide and Glide, and it was turning into
the
event to attend on the opening night of the international gathering. Five hundred tickets had been sold, with the proceeds going to a scholarship fund to support training of talented underprivileged young skiers, while the food and drink had been donated by local sponsors. A huge section of the property would be tented, with heaters, and available for the overflow crowd they expected.

Since Skylar's arrival a month ago, the two sisters had barely had time to do more than chat briefly about the special needs of specific guests or problems requiring the concierge's immediate attention. Deena was pleased by the way Skylar had jumped right in and taken over Jean-Paul's duties in such an efficient, professional manner.

“I knew she'd be perfect,” Deena murmured, hurrying to answer the knock on her door. “Right on time,” she said to Skylar, who was standing with the room service attendant who had arrived with his cart filled with condiments and covered plates.

Turning to the attendant, she told him to take the cart into the small dining area off the kitchen and to set out the food. Once he had left, she and Skylar settled across from each other and launched into a breakfast of bacon, sausage, eggs benedict, hash browns and homemade biscuits, as they discussed the activity schedule for the ski club reunion.

“I'll have four additional vans available for transportation into Aspen proper,” Deena said, crunching on a piece of toast. “We're totally full. Not even an extra fold-out bed is available. So, unless we get a cancellation, tell anyone who asks about staying here that they'll have to find a room in Snowmass, Aspen or Carbondale. However, we'll provide transportation between the towns if they have family staying here.”

“What about those who want to come up from other hotels just for the Glide and Slide party?” Skylar asked.

“Can't handle that. They're on their own. We're only responsible for those staying here.”

Skylar made a quick notation on the pad she had brought along. “Is the music set? The menu?”

“The DJ, Red Boys III, is on board, Kathy's got the food under control, and Mark will oversee the valet service. Just about everything else is in place.”

“Sounds good,” Skylar said, sipping her coffee.

“I'm excited. This event is going to showcase Scenic Ridge as
the
place for minorities and young people to come to learn to ski. A good number of reporters from across the country will be here to cover the reunion, even a producer from BES called to inquire about our party.”

“That'll be great publicity for you!”

“Sure will,” Deena agreed, folding her linen napkin and sitting back. She placed a hand to her waistline. “I'm stuffed.”

“Me too, but I guess I'm gonna need a meal like this to get me through the day.”

“Why? What's on your agenda today?” Deena asked, toying with her teacup.

“My first ski lesson,” Skylar replied, rolling her eyes. “As if you didn't know! Mark told me that he consulted you
and
Kathy, before he
informed
me that I was having a ski lesson today. He's practically forcing me to do this.”

“Forcing you?” Deena mocked, wide-eyed. “Oh, calm down, Skylar. Sure, I told him I thought you oughta get away. Enjoy yourself today. You've been working nonstop since you got here. Go on, get out there and have a good time.”

“He's been bugging me for days, so I gave in. Why, I don't know. Ever since my elevator accident, the thought of sliding downhill on skis has not seemed like something I'd like to do. Plus, I don't have the right clothes.”

“Don't worry about that! Mark will arrange for your gear. You can borrow my red and white Helly Hansen ski pants and jacket, which will work great with that black turtleneck of yours. You have heavy socks, a warm hat and gloves, don't you?”

Skylar nodded.

“Okay. Long underwear?”

Skylar shook her head, “Nope. Just regular bras and panties.”

“Won't do,” Deena said. “I'll give you a pair of my Cuddly Duds.”

“Gee, thanks. I'm beginning to feel overwhelmed,” Skylar complained. “I have no idea of what I'm getting myself into.”

“You can trust Mark to keep you safe. He's a pro. Just do whatever he says, and you'll be sailing down the mountainside in no time.”

“Right,” Skylar groaned. “Seems like that's all I ever do…whatever he says. He can be very demanding, you know? Over the past week, I've located more items and delivered more packages to his cabin than for any other guest. For example, yesterday, I arranged limos for a group of his students who wanted to go on a shopping trip in town, then I had two hundred copies of his Ski Tips pamphlet printed and shipped overnight to some ski club in Pennsylvania and found a repair man to service his snowmobile.”

“Clearly, he wants both your assistance and your attention,” Deena said. “So, play along with him. Lighten up! Mark is really a very nice guy. Polite, easy to work with, never complains and gorgeous! Since he's been here, I've never received a complaint from a guest or the staff. I think he's just challenging you. His competitive nature, I suppose.”

“He's a challenge all right,” Skylar replied in a voice that carried her frustration. “He thinks he's gonna break me with his constant demands, but I've got some ideas of my own about how to show him who he's dealing with.”

With a thump, Deena plunked down her teacup, both puzzled and amused. “Sounds like you two might wind up doing a lot more together than just ski. Or am I imagining things?”

“You're imagining things,” Skylar shot back. “Besides, I didn't know you were listening so closely.”