“But it wouldn’t open,” Julia said.
“Maybe it was stuck,” she offered, glancing quickly at Ross before turning back to Julia. He had his back to them, and was adjusting—well, something. Hurriedly, she took the little girl’s hand and started to lead her out of the room toward the kitchen. “Did you want more water?”
“Daddy,” Julia called, coming to a halt just outside the door, “are you almost done with your work?”
Ross turned around. His eyes were glazed and his hair was rumpled and uneven, but when he spoke, his voice was light. “Sorry, pumpkin, not yet. But tomorrow I go see Mr. Herriot. After that I’ll have more time for you.”
“Okay,” she said, though she sounded skeptical. “I want to show you the park. And Kelsey said there’s a pool that we could go swimming at. She wants to take us tomorrow.”
Kelsey tugged, ever so gently, on her hand. “Julia, we should get out of your daddy’s hair. I’m sure he needs to work more.” She touched the cap of the water bottle. “Looks like you drank the whole thing. That’s really good, you know, to drink lots of water when it’s hot. Why don’t you run to the kitchen and refill your bottle. I’ll be there in a minute.”
She waited until Julia had disappeared before she allowed herself one last look at Ross. He rubbed the back of his neck.
“This is…um…hard,” he said.
“No kidding.” She laughed a little at the double entendre, forcing herself to sound calm even as her mind spun with frenetic energy. Hard? Try completely nuts. How in the world could they arrange for any kind of rendezvous? He had three kids.
Three. Kids. And it wasn’t as if they could hire a babysitter—she was the babysitter.
“Kelsey!” Julia yelled from the kitchen. “Come quick! The water bottle is jammed in the fridge and water is getting all over the floor.”
“I guess I better go,” she said.
“I guess.” He continued to stare, not moving. She had the feeling he wanted to say something, but had no idea what.
Which made sense, because she felt exactly the same way.
Chapter Eight
“I appreciate your coming on such short notice, Ross.” Armand Herriot motioned toward the large screen on one end of the conference room. “Would you like to get started?” A massive conference table, with seating for twenty, sat in front of the screen. A laptop connected to a glowing projector had been set up in the middle of the table.
“Yes, that would be great, thanks.” Ross withdrew the jump drive from his pocket. He hadn’t been this nervous since his first big pitch to an investor ten years ago. He surveyed his host out of the corner of his eye as he plugged the drive into the laptop and waited for it to load. Armand looked more like a movie star than a hardened business mogul. Though Wikipedia had proclaimed him fifty-five, there was not a hint of gray in his short brown hair, and his body was lean and trim. His teeth sparkled white, and he wore a black T-shirt tucked into a pair of snug-fitting chinos. He had a long, handsome face with just a hint of cruelty about the eyes.
Ross hated him on sight.
This, of course, was not a helpful emotion. Herriot was his key to breaking into the Denver market. They didn’t have to become best friends.
“I’ll just take a seat,” Armand said, a polite smile on his face. “You can start up whenever you’re ready.”
The presentation opened with a series of slides of resorts in the popular ski towns of Aspen, Breckenridge, and Vail, several of which were owned by Armand. “As you are well aware,” Ross began, “Colorado’s mountains provide unparalleled beauty, and opportunities for resorts that cater to the world’s most discerning, high-end customers.” Ross cut to a map showing the general location of the property that Armand had identified for this project, which was near the western border of the state. “However, I believe the area you’ve identified will appeal to a different sort of clientele.”
The slide show changed to a series of pictures of families, young children, and large gatherings. “In today’s tough economic times, families want to spend quality time together in a setting that caters to their needs, without breaking their budgets. We can provide that.” He flipped through pictures of people riding on horseback, couples getting massages, and families hiking on trails through the forests. “My concept has all the traditional amenities of a Western resort but we would target working families, not the sort of upper-end clientele that you’ve worked with in the past. While those markets have the potential for high profit margins, I believe we will find greater long-term potential and community support with this family-oriented model.”