Page 12 of Moonlit Colorado

What would I do without you, M?

Margot

I suppose you would try to manage.

Make sure you look presentable at the VIP event tonight.

I always look extremely presentable.

Because you spend so much time in front of the mirror.

Ha ha. I’m heading down now.

It was true that I’d lost track of time. But only because I wasn’t looking forward to this idiotic party. Which had been my brother Kipling’s idea, not mine. I didn’t give a shit about impressing the company’s VIP clients and business associates, who Kip had flown in to enjoy the changing fall colors and complimentary room service. If he’d wanted to glad-hand the VIPs, he could’ve shown up in Silver Ridge himself.

He’d fought me every step of the way on buying this resort. And now, he wanted to take over and treat this project like it was his?

Never mind. I didn’t want my brother here. That was exactly why I’d come to Colorado. For a break from Kip and my father.

Since taking a stroll around Main Street yesterday, I’d been keeping busy. Working out in the hotel gym. Meeting with the hotel’s staff, taking a tour of the property I’d purchased, plus keeping up with my usual duties as a Knightly Global Properties executive. But at the same time, my mind had been engaged in more pleasant pursuits. Remembering shiny auburn hair twirled into a messy bun. Two bright eyes behind oversized plastic-framed glasses.

The woman at the coffee shop yesterday morning. Damn, she had been adorable.

Was she a bookkeeper? That would explain the selection of books in that box she’d been carrying. I did love a good spreadsheet.

She was clearly a local. She’d gotten shy around me, and that had only stoked my interest.

I wondered if I’d see her again. In a town this small, the chances were high. Yet I hadn’t spotted her when I took a long run down to Main Street this morning and stopped at Silver Linings Coffee again. The woman behind the register had been someone different, not the tall blond from yesterday. But I had noticedAdvanced Techniques for QuickBookson the used books shelf.

The book was now sitting upstairs on the dresser in my bedroom, an impulse buy that I couldn’t even explain.

I spent a couple of moments checking myself over in the mirror. More than presentable.

When I got downstairs, Tobin the hotel manager found me immediately. Either Margot had told him I was on my way down, or he had some kind of tracker on me.

“Mr. Knightly, may I introduce you to Mayor Barker?”

Instead of one massive ballroom, the party was set up in various rooms to show off the hotel’s event facilities. It created a more intimate feeling, one space flowing into the next through archways. As if this were a private mansion rather than a corporate-owned complex. The staff had done well.

I chatted with the mayor, a woman in her sixties with an impressive handshake. Then greeted some of the other VIPs as Tobin ushered me around like I was a dish of party favors. I had no problem talking to people, but I hated wasting time. When it came to business, I preferred numbers and logistics and strategy. Data. If I made phone calls or held meetings, it was for a clear purpose. That was why I tracked down lucrative investment opportunities for my father’s company, rather than squeezing money from potential investors like my brother did.

When and if I entered a negotiation, I was the guy who closed the deal. Meaningless small talk made me want to jump off the highest point of the nearest ski lift.

As soon as I could, I slipped away from Tobin and made my way to the bar. It was set up in a square shape with the bartenders in the middle. “Bourbon,” I said, pointing at the bottle I wanted. “Neat.” While he poured, I glanced around at the masked partygoers, realizing the benefit of a masquerade. Hardly anyone here would know who I was. I might actually be able to enjoy myself.

That was when I saw her.

A woman in an elaborate red mask stepped up to the bar. Her dress hugged her curves like a Porsche on a mountain road. Her hair was a mixture of golden and auburn strands, which fell in waves around her shoulders. She rested her elbows on the bar top with her purse clutched in her hands. Ordered a glass of wine.

Something about her pulled at me. A familiarity. But the mask and the dress threw me off. Same with the makeup.

I was about to approach when a heavyset older man with a blue mask stormed up to her and grabbed her by the shoulder. “You were supposed to wait for me in the lobby.”

Her mouth opened in a shocked O.

Instantly, I straightened up, my instincts prickling with awareness.

“Excuse me?” she said. “You must have me confused with someone else.”

---