by Mona Ingram
“Oh, him. Yes, I noticed him but I was thinking about his run-in with the grizzly.”
Billy chuckled. “He told me about that. Feels like an idiot.” He looked around. “See? We have the place to ourselves. Is it okay if I help myself to a brandy? How about you?”
Brooke rarely drank, but the idea was too tempting to pass up. “A small one, please.”
Billy returned moments later with two glasses. “I left a note with my signature and room number.” He passed her a glass. “I wouldn’t want to take advantage.”
She smiled and looked up at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll charge you.”
He settled down and lifted his glass to her. “Not only beautiful, but smart.”
Something must have showed on her face because he looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. She waited for him to speak.
“That wasn’t just a line, Brooke.” He took a small sip of brandy then placed the glass on the table between them. “You are obviously beautiful and I think you’re smart as well.” He looked into the fire which had died down, leaving glowing embers crackling softly in the grate. “That’s the trouble when your reputation precedes you. Nobody believes it when you’re sincere.” He turned back to her. “Especially when you have a nickname like Slick Billy.”
She gasped, surprised that he’d brought it up.
He nodded. “Thing is, I used to deserve it.”
She watched the play of emotions on his face. “You’re saying you don’t deserve it anymore.” She made it a statement.
He took another sip of brandy. “Okay, this is where I tell you mine.” He swirled the liquid around as he stared into the glass.
“I was what my teammates called a player. I never went out with one woman for very long. It got to be a habit after a while. And then last fall, shortly after I went back home after my holiday here, the last girl I’d been going out with tried to commit suicide. Her roommate found a note that basically said it was my fault.”
“I don’t see how that can be true.”
A small smile toyed with the side of his mouth but didn’t make it to his eyes. “Thank you for saying that, but other people didn’t agree with you. I did a lot of soul searching after that.” He looked up. “Did I actually just say ‘soul searching’?”
She nodded and gave him an understanding smile.
“I went to a shrink. That was something I never thought I’d do, but I did.”
“Did it help?”
“Yes, surprisingly.” He looked at her with eyes that were blue-grey; the colour of the lake on a cloudy day. “And I began to understand how our experiences growing up can shape us when we get older.” He paused. “Similar to what happened to you, I suppose.”
“What happened?” She took a drink, holding his gaze.
“My dad left us when I was small. We’d been a middle class family. I don’t recall ever going without anything, but my mother always wanted more. She was one of those women who had to have a man around. The female equivalent of your father, I suppose. Anyway, she went from one man to the next to the next, always looking for one that was better than the last, one who could give her more of whatever it was she was seeking.” His voice lowered until it was little more than a whisper. “She had very little time for me and I never did find out what it was like to be part of a loving family. I always thought my father would come back. I waited for years before I realized that wasn’t going to happen.” He drained the brandy from his glass. “I have a few faint memories of going fishing with him, but I can’t say that I remember him. My shrink says that’s why I keep coming back here. I’m looking for what I had with my father. What really gets me is that he died shortly after he left us and I didn’t even know until a few years ago when I tried to find him.”
He looked embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to go all emotional on you but the bottom line is, I’m not that man any more, Brooke. I’m not Slick Billy.”
His gaze went to her mouth and lingered there for several long moments. “I’d like to prove it to you, if you’ll let me.”
Her pulse started to beat a little faster and she realized that she’d enjoy having him prove it. She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted when Larry the night watchman came in the back way. He looked from Brooke to Billy, then back to Brooke. “Sorry for the interruption.” He picked up the log book from the reception desk and made a note. “Another quiet night out there.”
He closed the book and took another look at Billy. “Excuse me, but are you Billy Talbot?”
Billy gave Brooke a resigned smile and stood up, his hand extended. “Sure am.”
“I saw you pitch for the Blue Jays back in oh-eight. You were terrific.” He pumped Billy’s hand. “Too bad about the arm.”
“Yeah, too bad.” He motioned with the brandy snifter. “Brooke and I were just having a nightcap.”
Larry was too star struck to take the hint. He continued to talk baseball for several minutes and Brooke finally stood up.
“Well gentlemen, I think I’ll turn in.” She smiled at Billy and something passed between them that was more intimate than a kiss. “Goodnight, Billy.”
He stepped forward and brushed his lips against her cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She nodded and walked slowly toward the front door. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter Five
Leeza was checking the coffee urn and hot food wells when Jamie breezed into the restaurant early the next morning. Buffet breakfast was offered from seven until ten thirty during the week; weekends were more formal, with full service.
“What are you doing here?” Jamie wandered from table to table, idly checking the level of salt and pepper in the shakers, something that had been her job as a child.
“I got a call from Marta last night. She came down with some sort of flu. I said I’d cover for her.” Leeza moved off. “If you want to talk, come into the kitchen.”
Jamie was right behind her. “So how long does she think she’ll be out?” The breakfast cook was rarely sick; Jamie couldn’t remember the last time she’d missed a day.
“She thinks it’s a twenty-four hour bug. I imagine she’ll be back tomorrow.” Leeza started to fill a large bowl with fruit salad. “You’re up early yourself. Anything exciting happening today?”
Jamie’s thoughts went to Craig. “Not sure. I’m going to take Craig on a tour of the lake. He’s a bit leery of flying yet.”
Leeza raised one black eyebrow. “So it’s ‘Craig’ is it? What’s he like?”
Jamie sent a warning glance toward Leeza’s helper. “He’s nice. I had dinner with him last night.”
“Duh. Who do you think cooked your steak?” Leeza rolled her eyes and kept on working.
“Right.” Jamie reached for a coffee mug. Leeza had suggested that they buy large, sturdy mugs with handles big enough to accommodate a man’s fingers. They’d been wildly popular. “Shall I get out of your way?”
“That would be good.” Leeza lifted the bowl of fruit and backed through the swinging doors. Jamie had stopped wondering a long time ago how someone so small could be so strong.
“Okay then. I’ll get a coffee and go wait for him.” Jamie followed her into the dining room and poured herself a coffee. “By the way, Brooke said something about having an idea for a store in the Lodge. Has she said anything to you?”
Leeza frowned. “No, but I’d like to hear about it.” She paused for a moment. “I’d listen to anything she has to say. She’s smart.”
“Okay. If she doesn’t mind, I’ll call you when we talk.”
Leeza nodded and disappeared back into the kitchen. Like Jamie, she’d often wondered why Brooke chose to respond to the job posting, but was glad she had. Reservations and reception had improved tenfold. Even the restaurant was functioning more smoothly since Brooke had taken over the reservations, and for that she was grateful.
The timer pinged and Leeza moved to take the croissants out of the oven. She’d recently changed suppli
ers for frozen pastry and was delighted with the results. All thoughts of Brooke and Jamie were pushed from her mind as they got into the full swing of preparing the morning buffet.
* * *
“Leeza! Can you come?” One of the senior maids stood at the entrance to the kitchen. Leeza was strict about staff in the kitchen and they knew better than to venture too far inside. It must be something serious for Stacy to be bothering her. She looked at the wall clock. Eight forty-five. Where had the time gone?”
“I suppose Jamie has already left for the day. What about Brooke? Can’t she help?” Leeza wiped her hands on a nearby towel. “What is it, anyway?”
“It’s one of the guests.” The maid was actually wringing her hands. “He seems awfully sick, and I can’t find Brooke anywhere.”
Leeza had taken the St. John’s Ambulance First Aid Course last winter, but so far she hadn’t needed to use the knowledge. She looked over at Adrian, a question in her eyes.
“Go,” he said. “We can handle it.”
Stacy led the way to one of the best rooms overlooking the lake. She knocked quickly and then entered. “He’s in here,” she said, motioning toward the bathroom.
Leeza hesitated. The maids were accustomed to seeing guests in various stages of undress, but it wasn’t her idea of a good time.
“Come on,” Stacy urged impatiently. “He’s presentable.”
The man sat of the floor of the bathroom, head hanging between his knees. A towel was draped around his neck, but even so, Leeza could see muscles rippling in his arms and shoulders as he looked up, then pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. He wore a loose pair of sweat pants and nothing else. She tried not to look at the chest hair that tapered to a fine line and then disappeared into the waistband of his sweats.
He swayed a bit and she grabbed his arm. He managed to focus on her with eyes that reminded her of the decadent brown chocolate sauce she made to go with desserts. If he looked like this when he was sick, she couldn’t imagine what he must look like when he was feeling well.
She finally found her voice. “Here, let me help you.” She guided him out of the bathroom and he looked down at her hand as though he didn’t know what it was. “You should be sitting down.”
He took a few hesitant steps and made it as far as the easy chair by the window. She sat down across from him and he wiped his face with the towel. His fingers were long and elegant; definitely not the hands of a construction worker. For one wild moment she wondered what those hands would feel like on her body. She gave a little shudder.
“You’re cold.” He reached toward the open window but she stopped him before he could get up.
“No, I’m fine.” She looked around, but Stacy had disappeared. “Can I get you something? Some water?”
He nodded and she rose, glad to have something to do. She crossed to the bureau and poured some water from the decanter that sat there. When she turned around, he’d slumped back into the chair and was sitting with his eyes closed. He was without doubt the most beautiful man she had ever seen. A day’s growth of beard on his chiseled cheeks lent him a dangerous, rakish air and somewhere deep in her belly she felt the stirrings of lust. He was pale, but instead of making him appear anemic, it somehow gave him an edge. She couldn’t see his legs, but she imagined them to be toned and sinewy like his torso. Even his feet were long and elegant.
Good Lord, she told herself. What are you doing? This man is sick.
Faint colour seemed to be coming back into his face. He opened his eyes and caught her looking at him. “What’s your name?” he asked, his voice low and raspy. The sound sent shivers of desire racing through her body.
“Leeza Campeau.” She handed him the glass of water. “I’m the chef.”
He took a long drink, then nodded. “I can see that.”
She looked down at her white jacket. How could she have forgotten that she had it on? “Who are you?” she asked. It came out a bit more harshly than she’d intended, but he was making her nervous.
“I’m Matt Weber. Grizzly bait and now flu catcher.” He gave her a wry grin and motioned to the chair opposite him. “Would you like to sit down?”
“I didn’t come here to socialize.” Why was she snapping at him like this? She honestly had no idea. “I’m sorry. What I meant to say was that I came to see how you are.” She sat down anyway. “Was it the flu?”
He nodded, tried another smile. “Yes.” He waved a hand in the direction of the bathroom. “I’m glad you didn’t have to see that.” He took another sip of water. “Believe it or not, I’m starting to feel better already.”
She glanced at her watch and stood. “Good. I really should get back to the kitchen.” She started for the door, then stopped. “When did you get sick?”
“It started sometime last night, I think.”
“Interesting. My breakfast cook called in sick last night.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Billy and I were playing catch with some kids out in the field just before dinner and one of them looked pretty rough.” He was watching her carefully. “The kid was from the campground, so don’t worry. It’s not being spread through the kitchen.”
She didn’t try to hide her relief. “Thank you for telling me that.”
“Let’s just hope nobody else gets it.”
“We should know by noon.” She hesitated at the doorway. “Sorry but I really do have to go. Call if you need anything.”
He stood up and gripped the chair for support. “I’m going to have a shower and get dressed. If I come down to the dining room, would you at least have coffee with me?”
She really shouldn’t. “Okay. Ask one of the servers to come and get me.”
Her gaze was drawn to his lips when he smiled. Full and sensuous, they contrasted with the sharp angles of his face. Leeza groaned silently to herself. She was in so much trouble!
* * *
Leeza kept finding excuses to check the buffet for the next hour and a half. Maybe he wasn’t coming. She wondered how he’d respond if she knocked on his door. After all, she worked for the hotel and he was sick and...who was she kidding? She wanted to see him again, and the sooner the better.
She pushed a surprised co-worker out of the way and started to load the dishwasher. It was mindless work, and allowed her time to think.
It had been two years since Jean Michel left abruptly after one of his famous tirades. It was a wonder they’d been able to keep kitchen staff while he was chef. After his departure Jamie had shown faith in her ability to take over, and had asked the staff to support her. Within a month, the kitchen had been transformed into a sane working environment. Leeza didn’t go along with the current notion that all cooks were wild men. True, they were a special breed, but she wasn’t prepared to put up with any nonsense in her kitchen, and the staff respected her for that.
Although she and Jean Michel had been romantically involved, it didn’t enter her head to leave with him. The relationship had been a mistake from the start, and she considered herself lucky to have escaped with her heart intact. But she’d shied away from any entanglements since then. Until now, that is.
Who are you kidding? She asked herself. You’ve only just met him.
But there was something about Matt Weber. Something in his eyes when he looked at her that made her come alive again. She had to find out what his story was...why he wasn’t here with his wife...that is, if he was married. And yet he didn’t look married. Please! She begged silently. Please let me be right about that one thing, at least.
“Leeza?”
She jumped, startled, and sprayed water against the wall.
“Mr. Weber asked me to tell you that he’s in the dining room.”
She took a few steps toward the swinging door then stopped and looked down at her white jacket. What did she have on underneath? Something black, no doubt. Whatever it was, it would be better than wearing her work clothes. She ran back to her miniscule office, tore off the jacket and searched through her drawers for
the small mirror she’d noticed a few months ago. It was nowhere to be found. This wasn’t a date, but she wanted to look decent.
“Adrian, how do I look?”
The cook gave her a quick once-over and shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”
“Thanks a lot!” She tried to see how she looked in the glass-fronted cooler but finally gave up. She raked her fingers through her hair, took a deep breath and stepped through the doors.
The dining room was almost empty. He was sitting at a table by the window and rose when she approached. Judging by the small plate pushed off to the side, he’d made an attempt to eat some toast.
“Please, don’t get up.” She was too late and found herself looking into eyes that were remarkably clear. “You look good” she said, somewhat breathlessly.
He acknowledged her greeting with a smile. “I’m feeling better.” He touched her arm lightly and waited for her to sit before seating himself. “I’m glad you could join me.” He wore a navy shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of faded jeans. She touched the corner of her mouth in case she was drooling.
“What kind of fishing will you be doing? Are you a fly fisherman? We’re famous for our fly fishing in this area.” The words kept tumbling out; she couldn’t seem to stop.
He raised his cup and took a deliberate sip before answering. “I’m not a fisherman. By rights I shouldn’t even be here.”
She was intrigued. “You don’t like fishing?”
He looked at her for a long moment, as though deciding how much to tell her. “Not particularly, but that isn’t what I meant.”
She waited for him to continue.
“I won this trip as a prize. Top salesman in my area or some such honour.” He gave a snort of derision. “And then about a week after they’d announced the prize I had my real estate license taken away.”
Leeza couldn’t believe her ears. “You’re not kidding, are you.” It wasn’t a question.
“I wish I was. No, they accused me of mortgage fraud.” His gaze drifted out over the lake. “Whoever set me up did an excellent job. It’s incredibly involved.” He turned to look at her and she saw pain behind his eyes. “I was too busy marketing a new development in the Valley to keep an eye on the business end of things, so in a way it was my own fault. Everything in the office goes out over my signature and there were times I didn’t check what I was signing.”
