Suite Embrace. Anita Bunkley

the States, and she was not too happy that he decided to teach here at Scenic Ridge instead of a better-known, European ski resort.”

      “Sounds like quite a mom,” Skylar coyly commented, hoping Deena would give up more. A man’s mother could be a powerful influence and a key to understanding him. It might be good to know just how important a role Mother Virina played in Mark’s life.

      “Yeah, Virina is something else. She’s coming for her first visit soon—right in the middle of the Black Winter Sports Reunion—which is just around the corner,” Deena reminded Skylar. “It’s going to be a crazy, hectic time with a full hotel and the slopes as crowded as they’ve ever been. I hope you can handle it.”

      “I’ll have to,” Skylar noted, flipping through the pages on her desk calendar. She stopped when she saw that Jean-Paul had not only penciled Virina’s name in on his calendar as arriving on January 29th, but had drawn four stars above it. “I assume Mrs. Dagrun…”

      With a shake of her head, Deena stopped Skylar. “I spoke with her when she made her reservation—she prefers to be called Miss Dagrun. Her maiden name, so make a note of that.”

      “Got it. And I assume she wants one of the corner rooms,” Skylar went on, making notes on her calendar. “Maybe on the second floor, facing east so she can watch the sunrise in the mornings?”

      “No. The Vista View cabin. Already reserved. She made it clear that she didn’t want to stay in the main lodge. I know what she was thinking, after all, if Mark can have a private cabin, why shouldn’t she?”

      With a laugh, Skylar nodded. “Right. I don’t know the woman, but I can imagine her saying something like that. But if she’s so picky, I’m surprised she isn’t staying in town at the Little Nell or the St. Regis,” Skylar noted. “I’m sure she could arrange for a car to bring her out here to visit her son whenever she wanted to see him.”

      Hunching closer to the edge of Skylar’s desk, Deena crinkled her soft, brown eyes until they were half shut. “That would never do. She wants to be close to Mark. She told me so. I think she’s lonely. He must have been the center of her life.”

      “But he’s a grown man!” Skylar commented.

      “Thirty-eight to be exact.”

      “And never been married, I assume?” Skylar prompted thinking that if Mark felt comfortable enough with Deena to discuss his relationship with his mother, maybe he’d shared information about his love life with her, too.

      “Not as far as I know, but I’ve never asked him about his romantic past. Maybe you can get that out of him…if it’s important for you to know.”

      With a scowl, Skylar shrugged, “I’m afraid I’m not that interested.”

      “Doesn’t sound that way to me.”

      “Oh, drop it, Deena, please.”

      “Okay. But I wouldn’t be surprised if Miss Dagrun gives you a real workout when she gets here. But don’t let her rattle you, okay?”

      “Afraid I might run off and join Jean-Paul at the Hyatt Regency in Utah?” Skylar joked.

      “No, but you might be tempted. She sounds like the kind of guest who can be a real pain in the butt. Demanding, picky and insistent on having things done a certain way. It wouldn’t surprise me if she’s coming to Scenic Ridge to convince Mark to leave.”

      “Leave? But you said he was happy here.”

      “He is, and I plan to keep him happy and keep him here.”

      Skylar sipped from her mug, intrigued by Deena’s remark. “You talk about Mark Jorgen as if he’s a guest, not an employee.”

      “In a way he is a guest,” Deena agreed. “And I expect you and the staff to treat him as such. As an Olympic gold medal winner he has clout…a following of devotees that attracts high profile clients. Whatever he asks for, you get it, or do it. Okay?”

      With a jerk of her shoulder, Skylar puckered her lips and nodded her understanding, pleased with herself for already having shown him exactly what she was all about. Fulfilling Mark Jorgen’s requests would be easy, as long as he didn’t overstep the boundaries she planned to put in place right away.

      Chapter 9

      The sculpted candle in the center of the table gave off the delicious scent of white gardenias and cast a golden glow over Virina Dagrun’s model-sharp features. Her silver blonde hair, cut into a short-boyish style, softly cupped below her ears, shimmered in the candlelight as she reached for her balloon-shaped wine glass. She leaned closer to the flame, appreciative of the muted lighting in the intimate restaurant, hoping it helped disguise the newest wrinkle she had discovered beneath her left eye that morning. What a drag! If she’d had more time she would have made an appointment for a Botox injection before dinner, but she’d been too rushed, having flown in from Oslo only five hours earlier.

      “Do you like my choice of restaurants, Richard?” she asked her dinner guest, lifting a hand layered with jewels as she glanced around the New York City establishment. Each table was nestled inside a private semicircle booth and was covered with a crisp white lace cloth, sparkling crystal and silver so shiny that it created tiny bursts of light throughout the room. Virina found so many of New York’s better restaurants too boldly lit and open for her tastes, but the atmosphere at Jannike’s was perfect. It was dim, decorated in old European style and expensive enough to keep the riffraff out.

      “A very elegant place,” Richard replied, nodding his approval. “Quiet, and as private as you said it would be. The kind of place where people can actually talk to each other without screaming in their faces or worrying that the people next to them can overhear every word.”

      “Precisely, and we have a lot to discuss, Richard. I’ll be leaving New York in a week, so we don’t have a lot of time to get everything settled,” Virina began, taking a quick sip from her glass. She placed her goblet on the table and a bright red fingernail to the side of her mouth, as if struggling with a thought, when in fact, she was sizing Richard Nobel up while formulating her strategy.

      She knew how to play the negotiating game with the best and knew she was going to get what she wanted from this good-looking journalist who was sitting across from her, drinking the two-hundred-dollar-a-bottle wine she was paying for. He was thin, almost gaunt, but carried himself with an aristocratic air that she found very appealing. His earthy brown skin, black eyes and bright white teeth reminded her of Nat King Cole, the most gorgeous black man ever, in her opinion. A man as good looking as Richard was probably used to women coming on to him, so why not take a chance? If flirting with him didn’t work, she had other ways to get what she wanted.