Here Comes Trouble Page 0,87

rooms to the slopes. The main resort building containing registration, shops, restaurants, and other guest services was tucked into the center of the chalets. It was designed to look like a larger, more complex version of the rest. This unique concept offered a rather intimate, more casual-slash-village feel to the place, while at the same time making guests feel they were staying somewhere special.

His thoughts drifted immediately to Kirby and he found himself trying to picture her running a resort the size of Winterhaven. Very likely the one she’d helped manage in Colorado had been decidedly bigger than this one. And though he was well aware she was competent enough to handle whatever she was thrown…he thought the small, quaint inn atmosphere suited her personality better. Like its owner, Pennydash Inn was an openly warm and welcoming establishment that made you feel instantly at home…yet housed in a quietly elegant, beautifully detailed structure.

He’d never really thought about all the elements that went into running a successful hotel, whether it be resort, chain, inn, or even boarding house for that matter. Not that he hadn’t realized how hard Vanetta worked to keep her place going, but there were all kinds of elements that he’d never considered.

Over the past few weeks, he’d gotten a true glimpse of what Kirby’s life would be like if the inn was operating as it was supposed to be. He selfishly and unapologetically wanted more time with her, before the true insanity descended upon her little adopted burg.

And that was going to add another layer of complexity to all the thoughts swirling inside his head, but at that moment, he had to switch mental gears and focus on dealing with Maksimov. Then Brett could work on getting the hell back out of the resort before someone else sidelined him with a myriad of new details that needed his immediate attention.

He missed her, dammit.

He was thinking about stopping by the Food Mart on the way back to the inn and showing up with a couple of steaks, maybe an assortment of local cheeses, a decent bottle of wine—Kirby had introduced him to some very nice local labels there, too—and negotiate a stop-work measure where they both turned off their cell phones and locked themselves inside his top-floor bedroom for the rest of the day and night. Surely everything wouldn’t fall apart if they went AWOL for a few hours.

He was quite happily playing out that delightful scenario as he tooled around the loop that led to the main lobby. So he missed the doors sliding open.

“Well, it’s about time, buddy.”

Brett almost laid the bike on its side as the familiar voice—one without any Russian accent whatsoever—reached through the carnal haze that had swiftly been clouding his brain and clicked his synapses back to reality.

He managed to steady the bike until he brought it under control and stopped it. Then quickly parked and climbed off as he saw, quite clearly, that he hadn’t been hallucinating.

“Dan?” His face split into a wide grin. “What the hell?” Then he immediately sobered. “Wait, is everything okay? Your dad, Vanetta—”

Dan lifted his hand to stall Brett’s concern. “Fine, fine. Though Dad is threatening to come back from Palm Springs to take over the company again.” He chuckled; however, his expression was anything but lighthearted. “But then, you know he never did believe I could do the job he did with it.”

Brett didn’t chuckle along with him. “Is there something going on? I mean, with the company? Why the hell are you all the way out here, anyway?”

Dan lifted a shoulder. “If Muhammad won’t come to the mountain…”

“So, something is wrong.”

“No, no,” he said, but it wasn’t entirely convincing. And when Brett merely folded his arms, Dan relented. “Okay, so two of my higher end clients lost their financing. And, with that, things are a bit tight. But that’s the deal these days, with the economy the way it is, what can you do? I’ll make it through; I always do.”

Brett knew better than to offer his financial assistance. Dan had made it clear years back, when Brett had really moved into a realm of income that most folks simply couldn’t wrap their heads around, that he never wanted to be one of Brett’s charity cases. Brett had argued that it wasn’t charity, simply what family did for one another. Like what he’d done for Vanetta. Brett understood pride; he had his own. Which was why he’d handled Vanetta’s situation discreetly, as he would