leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. She could still hear her brothers’ voices, alternately pleading, arguing and demanding that she stop hurting the man who’d loved her and raised her. Strange how they were all so interested in protecting Walter from a truth he’d known all along. None of them had given much thought to what she was having to deal with.
Even with her brothers coming at her from all sides, that confrontation hadn’t been as bad as the one with her stepmother. Angela, to give the woman her due, loved Walter to distraction. She’d made him happy, Erica knew, and she’d even tried, in the beginning, to foster a relationship with Erica. But the woman really wasn’t very maternal and Erica had been old enough to resent a woman who wasn’t her mother trying to take over her life. So they’d never really connected. And that wasn’t likely to change now, she thought as she remembered that last scene with her stepmother.
“You’re hurting him with this, Erica,” Angela had said softly, her tone and expression clearly showing her disapproval. “He doesn’t deserve this sort of treatment from you.”
“Angela, all I want to do is find out who I am,” she argued patiently.
“And you believe your father resents your choice.”
“Are you saying he doesn’t?”
Angela took a long breath and let it sigh from her lungs. Picking up her clutch, she tucked it beneath her left arm and slowly shook her head. “You’ve never looked past his brusque exterior to the man beneath, have you?” Not waiting for an answer, she said, “One day you will, my dear. And you’ll see that Walter’s heart aches for you. He loves you, Erica. It doesn’t matter that Don Jarrod donated his sperm to your creation. It’s Walter Prentice who is your father.”
Was Angela right? Or was she only defending her husband as she always had? Erica didn’t know, but she couldn’t allow anything to stop her from this quest.
“So basically,” Erica whispered to no one, “I’m on my own. Probably about time, too,” she added under her breath.
Heaven knew this was the greatest adventure she’d ever undertaken. Unlike her friends, she hadn’t back-packed through Europe after graduating from college. She hadn’t taken a year off to “find” herself. Instead, she’d done exactly what was expected of her. She had gotten a job at a well-regarded firm and began the process of building a respectable life. In fact, Erica had never done a single thing on impulse. She had been the good little girl, doing the right thing. The proper thing. All because she had been trying to prove herself to a father who had never noticed her. Now though, it seemed she was making up for all of that.
Pulling up stakes and moving halfway across the country to live with people she didn’t know and help run a resort she’d never seen.
It was crazy. Made zero sense. She should be terrified.
But she wasn’t.
Erica looked out the window at the earth far below and watched the view change from city to mountains and plains and felt a stir of excitement rise up inside her. This was new. Fresh. She had a chance here that few people ever had. An opportunity to completely reinvent herself. She was going to do the best she could with it. She was going to find her way and figure out who she was and when that was done, she’d be able to face her father again and hold her head high.
She picked up her cup of coffee and sipped at it. But for the muffled roar of the engines, the inside of the jet was quiet. She wasn’t interested in watching a movie or listening to the selection of music they had on board. In fact, she was actually too restless to sit still. The only thing keeping her in her buttery-soft leather chair was her instinctive fear of flying. And as the time ticked away, Erica’s excitement turned into nervousness and she worried about the reception she’d be receiving once she landed.
Friends? Or enemies? And how would she be able to tell?
The pilot’s voice crackled over the speaker, interrupting her thoughts. “Ms. Prentice, please make sure your seat belt is fastened. We’re beginning our initial descent and will be landing in Aspen in about twenty minutes.”
She nodded as if the man could see her, then smiled at herself.
Only twenty minutes until her new life started.
He was waiting on the tarmac.
Christian Hanford looked different than he had in San Francisco, Erica thought as her heartbeat sped into a gallop. For one thing, he wasn’t wearing a suit. And if she’d thought him gorgeous in that elegantly cut business suit, it was nothing to how she felt now.
He was wearing dark blue jeans, black boots and a red pullover collared shirt. His short dark hair ruffled in the wind and his lazy stance as he leaned against a black BMW only added to the “dangerous” air about him.
He walked to meet her as she came down the retractable stairway. A half smile on his face, he stopped at the bottom of the staircase and looked up at her. “How was your trip?”
“Fabulous,” she said quickly. “Thank you for sending the jet for me.”
“Least we could do,” he said and held out one hand to help her down the last few steps. His thumb traced lightly over the back of her hand and his touch felt like licks of flame. His dark eyes locked with hers and Erica felt a nearly magnetic pull toward the man. For one split second it was as if they were the only two people in the world. His square jaw was shadowed with a faint trace of whiskers and his mouth was still curved in that half smile as he added, “It’s the Jarrod family jet. You’re family.”
She laid her free hand against her abdomen in an attempt to still the butterflies that had suddenly decided to swarm inside her. It was a wasted effort. With excitement came nerves and she didn’t expect either to let up anytime soon.
“How about a quick tour of Aspen before we go to the resort?”
“I’d like that,” she said, tearing her gaze from his really gorgeous dark chocolate eyes long enough to look around her. Once she did, she gasped.
She glanced around the small—compared to San Francisco—airport and the mountains surrounding them. The sky was so blue it nearly hurt to look at it and the white clouds scudding across that sky could have been painted on, they were so perfect. The air was sharp and clean and the relative quiet was nearly deafening to a woman used to the sounds of a city.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, staring out at the mountains that towered over them like guardian angels.
“You know,” he said, and she turned to catch him looking at her, “it really is.” Then he shook off whatever he was thinking, and gave her hand a tug. “Come on, city girl. Let me show you around.”
She was too damn beautiful; that was the problem, Christian told himself. He’d hoped that his memory of her was exaggerated. That she hadn’t really had eyes the color of finely aged whiskey. That she didn’t smell like peaches. That her softly layered hair didn’t really lift in the wind until it looked like a halo around her head. He’d hoped that his desire for her would be something he could tuck away and ignore.
But just touching her hand had set off explosions of want inside him and now Christian knew exactly what he was up against.
Temptation.
