Suite Embrace - Anita Bunkley Mills & Boon Kimani

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with crisp mountain air, in no real hurry to get home. He loved to walk home when he had finished working for the day, when the silence of winter calmed him down and muted the lingering echoes of all the shouting, complaining and chatter that he had to endure on the mountaintop.

      Coming to work at Scenic Ridge was one of the best decisions he had ever made and he was very appreciative of Deena’s efforts to make him feel at home. She had insisted he move into private quarters at the lodge, which she could have rented for a thousand dollars a week. All of his meals were covered in his contract, and though his finances were not nearly as flush as they used to be, he was able to live in comfort while maintaining the illusion of success that befitted an Olympian.

      Mark looked around. In the fading light, Scenic Ridge resembled a perfect luminous pearl nestled in the most beautiful section of the Roaring Fork River Valley. It was quaint, yet luxurious. Far enough away from the glitz and shine of Aspen to maintain its rustic ambiance, yet near enough to get to Buttermilk, Snowmass and the fancy shops and restaurants within an hour’s drive. The resort was small, but not cramped. Isolated, yet accessible. Exactly where he wanted to be.

      He shrugged, a cynical smile touching his lips as he realized how content he actually was. It had not always been like this. Only a few years ago, he would have balked at living so far from the celebrity-filled world he had moved in. Then, he would have been staying in the most lavish suite in the most expensive hotel in Aspen, eating personally prepared meals in the most posh of restaurants and being entertained by the most beautiful girls within a five mile radius.

      For most of Mark’s adult life he had lived the high-life as a celebrated Olympian, as the most famous black skier in the world—a title that had both plagued him and made him proud. As a world class competitive skier throughout Europe and the U.S., he had spent much of life either training under the keen eye of his manager-mother, Virina, or partying with a nouveau riche crowd. Oh, the times he had had while traveling the world and making love to any woman who turned his head: black, brown or white. European, African, Asian or Hispanic. Tall or short. At the height of his career it had not mattered to him what country a woman came from as long as she was gorgeous, belonged to the exclusive world of money and social standing that he moved in, enjoyed partying and loved lots of good sex.

      But now, things were very different. He moved more slowly, was less concerned with money and social status, and was aware of how little it took to make him happy. He viewed the future as a clear sheet of ice on which he hoped to carve a beautiful future with the right woman, and until he found her, he was going to steer clear of women like Goldie Lamar, who in his opinion were shallow, self-absorbed snobs.

      He was thirty-eight years old and knew he wanted children, stability, a wife and a home—preferably a rustic pine-log cabin high on a hill with a ski slope at his back door. Yes, it was time to find the right woman to settle down with, one with values, charm, a real work ethic and one who would not flaunt money in his face. He’d had enough of those bored, rich types to last him a lifetime. He might have to put up with them on the slopes, but he didn’t have to share his private time with them. In his opinion, having too much money could do more harm than good.

      Chapter 4

      Gorsuch, Ltd. was crowded and buzzing with conversation as men, women and a scattering of children oohed and aahed over the glamorous items on display in the upscale resort shop. Nestled beneath the towering Aspen Mountains, the store was an explosion of exquisite leather, fur and suede outerwear; fashion forward clothing in a fantasy of designs by world famous designers; unique home décor items for the ultrabeautiful homes of discriminating shoppers; and of course, skiwear of the highest order.

      Skylar felt overwhelmed by the choices and the prices of the items surrounding her. Cautiously, she checked out the price tag on a pair of alligator boots—$4,250, and the matching handbag was only a few hundred dollars less.

      “Ouch,” she murmured, setting aside the unusual footwear. Even though she could have afforded them, she had no intention of spending that kind of money on a pair of boots. She had always been a conservative shopper, and her approach to shopping wasn’t about to catch up with her bank account. Going crazy now would certainly undermine her desire to keep her wealth a secret while she was in Aspen.

      Moving on, she picked out two fluffy blue sweatshirts off a clearance rack, and even though they were on sale, they still cost four times what she would have paid for similar items in Tampa. Next, she selected matching sweatpants, a red sweater and two fleece vests from another rack, and with a flip of her wrist, added two pairs of thick socks and a flannel nightgown to the pile. Unsure about what else she might need, she glanced around, spotted a salesclerk and signaled for help.

      “Shoes,” Skylar managed, jostling the bundle of clothing that filled her arms.

      “What kind?” the young woman asked, eyes wide in interest.

      “Boots. But not four-thousand dollar alligators,” Skylar laughed. “That’s a bit out of my league.”

      “I hear you,” the clerk commented. “You need indoor or outdoor? Ski boots or dress boots? Fur lined or suede lined? Waterproof or stain resistant? We’ve got ’em all.”

      “Maybe indoor and outdoor. Not too fancy,” Skylar started, not sure what else to say. “Guess I need everything. Or whatever you think a person moving here from Florida needs. I have no idea what I’m getting into…and I’m on a tight budget,” she decided to add. “I just want to be comfortable, okay?”

      A huge grin spread over the salesgirl’s face. “Sure, I get it.” She extended a hand. “I’m Cindy. Let me take those things from you so we can get busy, Miss…”

      “Skylar. Skylar Webster.”

      “Okay, Skylar. Leave it all to me. I think I know exactly what you need. Plus, you came at the right time, too. We’re having our annual ‘Freeze-Out Sale,’ and quite a few items are reduced. I’ll be right back.” The clerk hurried away, placed the bundle of clothing inside a dressing room and returned within seconds, a pamphlet in her hand. “Here’s a list of the essentials, things you must have if you want to be both stylish and comfortable while vacationing in Aspen.”

      Skylar glanced over the colorful pamphlet and sighed. “I’m not really vacationing, and I don’t ski. You see, I’m going to be working at Scenic Ridge.”

      “Oh, yeah, the ski school, right? Great. What are you going to be doing?”

      “I’m the new concierge.”

      “All right. You go, girl. Beautiful place. I went up there once with a friend of mine a few years ago. The road is tricky, though. Real narrow in places. Be careful on your way up.”

      “Really? Thanks for warning me.”

      “So, you’re from Florida, huh?” Cindy went on as she walked Skylar across the store. “What made you come up here?”

      Skylar paused, knowing she ought to be careful. Aspen was not a very big place. It wouldn’t take long for information about her to spread if she started telling too much, and she didn’t want to take any chances. All this clerk really needed was her dress size, her shoe size and her credit card. Why bother to get into why she left Tampa or how long she planned to stay? “I have relatives in the area, and just wanted to be near them,” she said, satisfied with her half-truth.

      “You’ve come to the right place to get outfitted, then,” Cindy said, stopping near a section of the store that was brimming with turtlenecks, blouses, slacks and jackets in every color and style imaginable.

      “Okay. I’m lost, Cindy. Tell me what I need,” Skylar commented, fingering a silky top as she set off to create her new wardrobe.

      For the next hour, Skylar tried on a variety of slacks, tops, parkas, boots, sweaters, socks, gloves and hats. By the time she was completely outfitted she was exhausted, and her checking account was about to be a little thinner, though, with Cindy’s guidance, she had found some very good bargains. Among them were a hooded parka with a fluffy raccoon collar, several thermo-stretch ski pants with matching

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