Christa drew a deep breath. No matter what their mother had said Stella and Peggy had no share in the inn. Christa had paid for their college educations, fed and clothed them. Over the years she had given into their demands to avoid tantrums and her guilt over the days following the accident when no one had known where she could be found.
She wanted to scream. She had avoided this confrontation for too long. The pair had pushed her far beyond her tolerance level.
The door opened. Mark wheeled stacked suitcases to the desk. Christa groaned. He had come to stay. He placed a laptop on the counter. Her heart raced. Anticipation pulsed through her body. Why did he bother her this way? Her thoughts flooded with memories of his kisses and caresses.
“Room key,” he said.
She smiled. “I’m afraid the inn is booked solid through next week. I can give you a list of other places that might have vacancies.” She had to explain the past but not yet. “You could leave and return when there’s room in the inn.”
“Not a chance. We need to talk. I’m not leaving until we do.”
Christa stared at the floor. Why had he come? Was he here to take Davy away?
“He could use one of the cottages,” Stella said.
Christa glared at her half-sister. “They’re closed until ski season.”
“Do they have water, electricity and heat?” Mark rested his elbows on the counter.
The look of determination in his eyes reminded her of their first encounter and the way he’d pursued until she’d agreed to a date. Three weeks later she’d been in love and had agreed to spend a long weekend with him. Those four days had been a whirlwind fantasy of love and laughter. When the web of tragedy had created a shroud of responsibility those days had ended. She stared at her hands. To meet his gaze meant realizing how little her feelings had changed.
“Christa, the cottage,” he said.
“They’re meant for groups.”
“I’ll take one.” He slid his credit card toward her.
He would persist until she agreed. “Do you want to pay for a place accommodating eight to ten just for yourself?” His shrug told her he hadn’t changed. He would pursue relentlessly what he wanted.
“Why not? I can afford to pay. There’s never been anyone to help spend my money.” He brushed a finger over the back of her hand.
Christa felt tendrils of heat spiral along her arms and take root low in her belly. She held her breath but the scent of him seeped to take room through her pores. Would he change his mind when he saw the weekly rate? She ran the card and filled in the amount. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Can’t think of anything I’d rather do.” His feral grin sent shivers along her spine. “Haven’t heard those words before. Didn’t you say that to me the day I asked you to spend the weekend with me?” He signed the slip.
She felt like a mouse being toyed with by a cat. Or a woman used by a man whose desire for conquest rode his scent and colored his voice.
He put the pen down. “Send the audience away. Time for us to have a chat.”
Every word jabbed like a needle. How could she fight a man who signed for a thousand dollars a night without checking the amount? “I can tear this slip up and you can go home. There’s nothing to discuss. I chose my life.”
“But you also chose mine. Just because you didn’t intend to marry me didn’t mean I would cede all my rights to my son.”
She looked away. What did he mean? Years ago she would gladly have married him. “I see.” She spoke with more calmness than she felt.
“Do you?” He reached for her hand. “There’s a second reason for my visit.”
“And that is?”
“A feature of the inn in Good Travelin’. Would be good for business. My head writer’s suggestion. An Inn For All Seasons.”
The dangled carrot tempted her. A feature might bring interest from potential buyers. If the inn sold she and Davy could vanish. Or could they? Mark knew he had a son. Would he fight for custody?
Christa drew a deep breath and donned her innkeeper persona. “Welcome to Green Mountain Inn. The restaurant is open at six for breakfast. Dinner service begins at five. The dining room closes at ten but the bar remains open and has a limited menu. There is a gift shop carrying the usual plus some local items.” She handed him a key. “Stella and Peggy will show you the cottage.”
“Why don’t you do the honors, Christa?” His deep voice caressed her name.
“I have work to do.” She waved the pair over. “Show Mr. Blakefield to cottage five.” His accommodation was as far from the house she shared with her family as possible.
He pocketed the key, lifted his laptop and grasped the handle of his luggage carrier. “Lead on, ladies. Christa, I’m looking forward to our talk.”
As the door closed Christa sagged like her lungs had lost their air in a rush. What was she going to do? He had a right to be angry but the cold fury in his eyes frightened her more than if he had exploded. Why hadn’t she found time during the past ten years to tell Mark about Davy? She’d never been able to answer the question. How could she resist the temptation to fall in love again?
Chapter Two
Mark wheeled his suitcases along the cobblestone path leading from the inn to the cottages. The Sisters Curious walked beside him. Though matters weren’t going as he’d planned he intended to stay until his questions were answered and he spent some time with his son.
He wanted to return to the desk and grill Christa. He didn’t know the boy’s name and he had no intention of asking his younger escorts. Had Christa walked beside him they could have negotiated an agreement. He knew of one reason that wouldn’t work. There’d been no compromise in her stance. She had drawn her line and dared him to make a move. He would and soon. Backing off wasn’t part of his nature.
A two story house with white clapboard siding stood on a half circle with five cottages strung like the tail of a kite. A garden lined both sides of the path. He noticed pumpkins, clusters of mums in variegated colors and an apple tree with a few dangling red fruit. The rest of the garden showed shrubs and bushes with brown or colored leaves.
His guides pointed to the last cottage. “That’s yours.”
Mark chuckled. Christa wasn’t making this easy but ten years ago, their first few encounters had challenged him. He had won then and he would now. He pulled his luggage to the door of cottage number five.
The taller of the two young women touched his arm. “I’m Stella. The runt is Peggy. If Christa keeps icing you we won’t. We can show you some fun.”
The second smiled. “We could help you settle in. Show you where everything is. Even fill you in on what Christa’s been doing.”
“No help needed.” He slipped the card into the slot. “I’m sure you have things to do.”
“Helping won’t be a problem,” Peggy said. “We have hours before we’re due at the inn. I run the cash register and Stel’s the hostess for the dining room.” She stepped closer. “We don’t work on weekends.”
“What does Christa do?”
“Acts like the inn belongs to her and no one else,” Stella said. “Oversees the kitchen, the rooms, handles reservations and keeps the books.”
“She’s a workaholic,” Peggy said. “Even though we both have business degrees she won’t let us help.”
He imagined they didn’t offer to help. He’d seen their kind of behavior in some of his friends from years past. He opened the door and pulled the luggage over the threshold. He closed the door leaving the sisters on the other side. Looks like Christa has more problems than the one he’d handed her.
He paused to survey the room. Polished wood floors. Cream colored walls. A large fireplace. A huge screen television. There were two couches that opened into beds. An archway led to the kitchen where a half wall divided the area between cooking and eating. He put the beer in the refrigerator and the tin of cookies on the counter. In the cupboard he found sturdy pottery dishes, closed canisters, tea, c
offee and powdered creamer.
Mark pulled his luggage down the hall. One door led to a room with three sets of bunk beds. The second revealed a bathroom with a shower stall. The third door opened into a spacious bedroom with chest, dressers and a king-sized bed. The bathroom had a Jacuzzi. He opened a suitcase. As he unpacked he wondered how he could lure Christa into the bed.
Plans for a second seduction simmered in his thoughts. As the scheme unfolded his body reacted. He released a long held breath. He felt as hard as he had the first time he’d seen her. Scenes from their weekend of live-making flowed. They had spent more time in the raw than clothed. For four days they’d made love in every room of the apartment.
When he found his hand hovering over the zipped of his slacks he groaned. Though he ached for satisfaction he had to be subtle and cautious. Years ago there’d only been Christa. Now there was his son.
That thought shattered his erotic daydream. He put sweaters and underwear in drawers and hung slacks and jeans in the closet. He left his robe on the foot of the bed.
With unpacking completed he set up his computer in the dining alcove and plugged in the charger for his phone. He needed to check emails, call his brother to cancel their weekend plans and start his attorney searching for information.
There were no voice messages. As he started to leave one for his brother, Matt came on the line. “What do you mean you’re out of town indefinitely?”
“Exactly what I said. Something I need to deal with barged into my life.”
Matt laughed. “Something or someone?”
“You could say both.”
“Interesting. Thought you were a love them and leave them kind of guy. Want me to join you and aid in the hunt?”
“Leave off, bro. I’ve found her and this time I plan to keep her.”
“Whoa. You’ve gone weird.”
“I’m serious.”
“Then good luck and be careful. Remember hunts can be traps.”
“Not this time. I’m doing the trapping and I’m always careful except once.” Years ago he had been captured. After that weekend he’d been granted immunity to the women he’d dated. “How’s the Home Make-Over contest going?”
“One more place to check. I’ll head there next weekend.”
“Have fun.” Mark laughed. “Maybe this time instead of a house you’ll find the woman of your dreams.”
“Doubtful. I’ll leave love and marriage to our sisters.”
“Don’t count us out. You never know when the Blakefield Curse will strike. Ciao.” He hung up and hit speed dial for his attorney.
“I’ll see if he’s available,” the secretary said. Moments later he heard his friend and lawyer’s voice.
“Mark, what’s up?” Tony asked.
“Need some advice.”
“Social or legal?”
“Mostly legal.”
“Spill.”
Mark explained where he was and why he’d driven to northern Vermont. “Haven’t seen my son yet but when you see the picture you’ll have no doubt I’m his father.”
“You say he’s about nine. We were in our last year around the time he was conceived. Never knew you had anything serious going on back then.”
“I did.”
“How can you be sure?” Tony asked. “You were never one to take chances.”
“Let’s say there was one time. Remember the long spring break weekend. You went to the beach and I stayed at school.”
Tony whistled. “And were a wreck when I returned. So you found her again. What do you want me to do?”
“Her name is Christa Parsons but she goes by Sommers now. She was a junior at the U. Place is Green Mountain Inn. Let me know what you learn.”
“Will do. Be careful. Sign no papers. Don’t make a verbal agreement or a promise. Might be a good idea to return home until we have the facts.”
“Not going to happen. Talk to you soon.” He hung up and started a new file on his laptop and typed an outline and questions for a feature on the inn.
He glanced at his watch. “Nearly three-thirty. Wonder if he’s home from school.” Mark grabbed his jacket and stepped outside. He glanced toward the house where he felt sure his son lived with Christa. Mark grinned. He could march to the house, pound on the door and announce himself. Not a wise move. He had to wait until he and Christa had their talk.
Feeling too restless to return to the cottage he set out to walk off some of his edgy energy. Just beyond the cottage he chose one of the paths starting on the level and then led up a small hill. At the top he stopped to survey the scenery.
A meadow spread from the slope to the edge of the lake. He noticed the wooden boat house and a pier. Across the lake he noticed a blaze of color. Splotches of orange and yellow flowed across a background of green. In the center of the display was a circle of scarlet. Were those sugar maples? Did Christa tap the trees to make syrup? That would add a note of interest to the feature if she agreed to have one done.
Would she or would she want him gone? Why hadn’t she told him about the pregnancy? He would have married. He’d been ready to take that step. Her disappearance had brought a cascade of emotions…fear for her, puzzlement and anger. His attempts to find her had been frustrating. There’d been no record of a Christa Parsons at the University. He’d begun to believe she had some scheme that had gone awry.
He leaned against a tree and fought a resurgence of that emotional storm. When had she changed her name? He drew a deep breath. He would learn the answer and the answer would define what he would do. He still wanted her and he wanted his son. Persuading her was the problem.
He pushed away from the tree and strode toward the lake. As he left the shade sunlight blinded him. When his vision cleared he saw a boy at the edge of the lake. The boy’s hair was blond. Mark’s heart hammered against his chest. He wanted to grab the boy and demand his name but caution was needed.
Mark continued forward. He saw a model boat skim across the water to the shore. The boy scooped the vessel and turned. Mark stared. There was no question of paternity. Mark faced himself at a younger age.
The boy halted. “Are you a ghost?”
“I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”
“You look like the man in a picture my mom has in her wallet. Was one of my dad. But you’re older.”
Mark swallowed. Christa had taken some snapshots during their time together. What had she told the boy? “What happened to your dad?”
The child shrugged. “I’m not ‘zactly sure. I wasn’t supposed to see the picture but my half aunts snuck it out and showed me. They thought they were funny.”
“Half aunts.” Mark held in a laugh.
The boy stood with the boat in one hand and the control in the other. “They’re Mom’s half-sisters so that makes them half aunts. When my grandfather and their mother died Mom had to take care of them.”
Mark sucked in a breath. Was that the reason Christa had left school so suddenly. That didn’t explain why she hadn’t told him about the pregnancy. “I can see why you call them that. Very inventive.”
“I’m glad they’re only half. They’re always bothering Mom for money and things, especially since Peggy finished college and they came here to live. Mom does all the work.” He started up the path and turned. “If you’re not a ghost, who are you?”
“Mark Blakefield.” Though he wanted to identify himself as the man in the picture he couldn’t. Not until he and Christa talked.
“See you.” The boy ran off.
“Wait.” But his son had vanished. Did the boy suspect the truth? What was his son’s name? The encounter made the talk with Christa imperative. He turned and strode to the inn. A green Jeep pulled out of the lot.
When he entered the lobby the elderly woman seated behind the counter looked up. “Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Christa.”
“You just missed her. Do you want to leave a message?”
Matt shook his head. “I’ll catch
her later. He turned from the desk and returned to the cottage.
* * *
Christa and Davy returned from their run to the bank in time to eat dinner at the inn before the place was crowded by guests and locals. Her son’s silence puzzled her. Usually the trip to and from town was filled with stories of his friends, school and anything popping into his thoughts. Since he’d returned from the lake he’d been thoughtful.
Her stomach roiled. Had he met Mark? Had Mark made a threat or an announcement? She needed to know but was afraid to ask.
After the waitress brought their food Christa reached for Davy’s hand. “Is something bothering you?”
He looked up. “Sort of. I know there are no ghosts but he isn’t one.”
Christa’s hand tightened. “Tell me what happened.” She released her son’s hand when fear flashed in his eyes.
“There’s this man I saw by the lake. He looked a lot like the picture the half aunts showed me last month. They took it from your wallet. They told me he was my dad and I thought he was dead. Did he have a brother?”
Christa drew a deep breath. The time had come. How much could she tell him? “Would you like him to be your dad?”
Davy shrugged. “Never thought about having one. Might be fun. He said he was Mark something.”
“Did he say anything else?” She hated the sharp edge to her voice.
“Just that he wasn’t a ghost. He didn’t touch me or anything. He stared a bit. Didn’t even ask my name. I ran off ‘cause I didn’t want to miss going to town.”
Relief washed through Christa. Mark had behaved in a way she hadn’t expected. She needed to tell her son about the events of the past but she had to know Mark’s intentions. She would fight any move on his part to take Davy away. “Do you need to talk more about this?”
He shook his head. “I need to think if I want a dad or not. I don’t want to live without you.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
“Okay.” He lifted his fork and attacked the food.
Christa smiled. Davy would be fine. Would she? Until she spoke to Mark she wouldn’t know what he intended to do. “Mrs. Lowry will take you home. Peggy and Stella are working tonight. I have to check on them.”
Seducing the Innkeeper (At First Sight Book 3) Page 2
