“What’s not to like?” She did a slow turn, trying to see everything at once. Then her gaze landed on Christian again. “To tell the truth, I wasn’t expecting anything like this.”
He grinned briefly and something inside her twisted up tight in response. Really, the man had an almost magical smile. Good thing he didn’t use it often.
“What were you expecting? A cell in a dungeon?”
She smiled and shrugged. “No, not that bad, but nothing so …”
“Melissa suggested you stay in this suite. She thought you’d like it and your brothers had no objection.”
“No objection.” Well, that was something, she supposed. “It was thoughtful of Melissa.”
“You’ll like her. She’s looking forward to meeting you.”
“And my brothers?”
He paused for a long moment before he said, “They’ll come around.”
“Just one big happy family, huh?” Funny, her excitement-driven nerves had become anxiety-driven in the blink of an eye. It seemed there were plenty of hard feelings for everyone to get through before they could even begin to relate to each other.
“You have as much right to be here as they do,” he told her.
“Do I?” Erica shook her head and frowned as she threw out both hands as if to encompass the entire resort. “They grew up here. I’m the interloper. This is their home.”
“The home that every one of them escaped from the minute they got the chance.”
Her hands fell to her sides. “Why did they? Was Don Jarrod such a bad father?”
“Not bad,” he said, crossing the room to stand by her side. “Just busy. Opinionated.” Christian smiled ruefully. “He wasn’t even my father and he was full of orders about what I should do with my life and the best way to do it.”
“Sounds familiar,” Erica mused, strolling to the window and staring out at the pool area and the mountains beyond. “I grew up with a father much like him. Ironic, isn’t it?”
“Maybe that insight will make it easier for you to understand your siblings.”
“I guess we’ll see. Seems strange that this lovely place is practically empty. It’s sad, somehow. That none of the Jarrods want to live in their family home.”
“Well,” Christian allowed, “like I told you, Don wasn’t the easiest father in the world. Most of them have issues with the place and aren’t very happy about the way their father arranged getting them back to Aspen.”
She sighed a little. “So, we’ve got father troubles in common, anyway.”
“You could say that.” He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and watched her as she walked to the sofa in her new home. “Speaking of your father, how’d it go when you spoke with him about all of this?”
Erica shot him a look. “As I expected. He didn’t want me to come.” “Why did you?”
She stopped, leaned over and picked up a throw pillow. She ran her fingertips across the heavily embroidered fabric, then set it down again. “I had to. I had to come and see and …”
“Find yourself?” he offered.
She laughed a little. “Sounds pompous, doesn’t it?”
“Not really. I’ve been lost before. It’s not always easy getting found again.”
Erica tipped her head to one side and studied him. He looked so in control. So at home. So sure of himself, it was hard to imagine that he might have suffered self-doubt or anxiety. But she supposed everyone did from time to time. The trick was to not let those times get the best of you.
She turned around and let her gaze slide across the room that would be her home for who knew how long. There was a hallway off the living room that she assumed led to the bedroom and— “You said there was a stocked kitchen?”
“Yep.” He pointed. “Right through there.”
She went to investigate and off a short hall, she found a two-burner stove, a small refrigerator and several cupboards. The fridge was stocked with water, wine and soda along with fresh vegetables. There was a bowl of fruit on the abbreviated counter and she noticed that the window in the kitchen overlooked an English-style garden.
“You hungry?” Christian’s voice came from directly behind her.
She turned around to look at him and admitted, “Actually, I am.”
“Why don’t we go get some lunch downstairs? I can answer your questions and you can meet one of your brothers at the same time.”
That brother being Guy, she reminded herself. The chef. Well, that meeting just might kill her appetite, but gamely she said, “Give me one minute to freshen up and I’m ready.”
Ready for all of it, she added silently.
Guy Jarrod had once been a sought-after chef, with a reputation of excellence, but when he opened his own restaurant, he’d stepped out from behind the stove so to speak. He’d learned to love the business of running the restaurant even more than he had the actual art of cooking.
Now, he hired and fired chefs, made sure everything ran the way he wanted it to. But being back at Jarrod Ridge doing what he did best hadn’t been on his agenda. Trust his father to make sure he eventually got his way where his children were concerned … even if it meant he had to die to do it.
Still irritated at being managed from beyond the grave, Guy had to admit that running the five-star restaurant at the Ridge was turning out to be a better gig than he’d expected it to be. He had big plans for the place.
Over the years, the restaurant and the general manager of the hotel had become, not lax, exactly, but complacent. They stayed with what worked rather than trying out new things. That was about to change.
All he had to do was get accustomed to being back here again.
“Excuse me, Mr. Jarrod?”
“What is it?” He looked up as one of the servers rushed into the wine cellar off the kitchen. A young kid who looked familiar, Guy hadn’t had time to learn all their names yet.
“Mr. Hanford’s in the dining room with a guest. He asked if you could come out to speak with them.”
Christian. Well, part of being back in Aspen was going to entail dealing with his brothers, his sister—sisters, he reminded himself sternly—and Christian. They’d been friends once, Guy reminded himself. Now, they were business colleagues all because of one old man’s stubborn refusal to let go of his children.
“Fine. Tell him I’ll be right there.” He left the wine cellar where he’d been taking a personal inventory—he wanted to know exactly what the restaurant had on hand and didn’t trust anyone else to do it right.
That thought brought him up short. Maybe he was more like his old man than he’d ever thought.
He stalked through the kitchen, out into the main dining room, his gaze constantly shifting. He checked on the servers, on the table settings, on the flowers. He noticed the tablecloths and the flatware and the shine on the silver and brass espresso machine. He had a sharp eye, no tolerance for sloppy work and he intended to make good use of those traits now that he was back running this place the way it always should have been run.
Guy spotted Christian sitting at a booth in the back. As he got closer, he saw that across from him was a trim, pretty brunette with amber eyes. She looked vaguely familiar to him, but