He knew the guy was the only family Jenny had left after her father, a renowned virologist Spence had once worked with, had passed away. Baby brother Travis hadn’t attended the funeral seven years ago. He’d been in drug rehab.
His current manic behavior suggested a relapse. Two and a half days with this jerk? Spence was particularly disgusted with the way Travis grabbed everybody, including Thea, in bear hugs. Especially Thea.
Stalking down the hill, Spence prepared to stake his claim before Travis decided to make her his weekend conquest. But the blond skier bounded halfway up the hill to greet him with arms flung wide. His red and yellow parka matched with skin-tight ski pants made him look, in Spence’s jaded opinion, like a demented snow parrot.
Spence blocked the hug and shook hands instead. “You must be Travis Trevain. I’m Spence Cannon.”
“Wow, yeah? I gotta say it, then.” Travis socked him on the shoulder, shaking his head in admiration. “I owe you, big-time. Thanks, man.”
“For what?”
“You hung in there for Jenny,” Travis said. “At the old man’s funeral. When she needed a friend.”
Spence might have pointed out that what Jenny had really needed was her brother, that Travis’s addictive behavior had broken his father’s heart. That, even then, even after their father died, especially then, Jenny could have used a brother at her side. But there was no point in rebuke. And Spence was in favor of letting the past be over in more ways than the one that mattered most to him right now—getting Thea to let it go. “Jenny keeps me updated on your career. How’s your health?”
“Aces, man.” Travis started to launch into the marvels of his conditioning.
Spence was rescued from that conversation by his friend Jordan, who called up to him. “Hey Spence! Sorry, Travis, but I need Spence to check something in the van.”
“No prob.” He clapped Spence on the back. “We got a whole weekend to be buds.”
Don’t hold your breath, hot dog. Spence strode downhill and then fell into step beside Jordan.
As they reached the parking area, Jordan asked, “How are you doing?”
“Fine.” Spence spat the word. Thea was talking to Emily up near the gondola house. He wanted to know what Emily was saying about him.
“Your jaw’s clenched, my friend. The vein in your forehead is pumping,” Jordan observed. “Emily says it’s hypertension.”
Emily was a nurse, specifically trained in emergency medicine, and Spence respected her ability enough that he planned to leave his practice in her hands during this long weekend. At the moment, however, he didn’t want Emily’s diagnosis.
“I’m fine,” he repeated. He knew where this conversation was headed and he was wishing real hard right now that he had never confided in Jordan and Emily at all. They both knew Spence had a lot of hopes invested in this weekend.
Jordan’s dark, intense gaze focused on the surrounding forest as if he were intent upon counting the trees. Emily’s husband didn’t do a lot of unnecessary chatting. “A while back, you and I had a talk about soulmates. You know the one—for every man, there’s one perfect match.”
Sneaking a look at Emily and Thea chatting away, Spence wondered what force in the universe it was that always sent your words of well-intentioned advice boomeranging right back at you. “Nothing’s perfect.”
“No, but some things come close.” Jordan kept counting trees. “You never said. Why did you and Thea break up in the first place?”
“It was my fault,” Spence said. He’d been an ass, putting his career ahead of Thea, ignoring her needs. He’d been a fool. “I never claimed to be a sensitive guy. I’m a doctor.”
“Like the two are mutually exclusive?” Jordan shook his head, apparently dismissing Spence’s self-recriminations. “So, are you saying you’ve changed?”
“Since Thea knew me? Oh, yeah.” If Thea gave him half a chance, he believed she’d like the man he’d become—a small-town doc who knew his patients by their first names.
“Well, all I can say is—”
“Shouldn’t we at least pretend we’re doing something about the van?” Spence interrupted.
“—don’t give up.” Jordan turned and opened the sliding door on the van, then climbed in. “Let’s move this seat.”
“Easy for you to say,” Spence snarled, about not giving up. He grabbed his end of the bench seat. “If she kicks snow in my face one more time—” He broke off. His rear molars ground together. “I don’t need this kind of rejection. There are plenty of willing females in the world.”
“But you want Thea.”
“God help me, I do.”
Chapter Two
The seat removed and reinstalled, Spence backed away and Jordan got out, sliding shut the door behind him as another vehicle chugged into the parking area and yet another one approached on the access road.
A tall, angular man unfolded from behind the steering wheel of a conservative black station wagon. His unsmiling face marked with a prominent, hawkish nose reminded Spence of the early Puritans. This impression was confirmed by the clerical collar encircling the man’s skinny neck.
As Spence and Jordan approached, he introduced himself. “Reverend Joshua Handy. Which of you is Gregory Rosemont?”
“Neither.” Spence made the introductions.
The reverend appeared impatient. “Jenny told me I’d have a chance to talk with Gregory before the ceremony.”
“You’ve never met him?” Spence asked.
“No.” He looked down his long nose. “Where’s Jenny?”
“Not here,” Spence said. “Not even her car. I’m guessing she and Rosemont have some kind of chauffeur service up to the gondola. They’re probably both already up at the castle. Need any help with your luggage?”
Joshua Handy shook his head, and turned back to his hearse-like station wagon. “I’ll manage.”
Tempted to walk back up the frozen slope and insert himself into the chat Emily and Thea were having, Spence let himself be dragged along with Jordan as the other car pulled into a space near to their own. A tiny dynamo of a woman exited her car. She was overly bundled up for her drive in a puffy parka and a scarf around her throat. Spikes of gray hair poked around the edges of a colorful Norwegian ski cap.
Her wizened features reminded Spence of a troll. Luckily, her beaming mitigated the harshness. “Hello! I’m Doctor Mona Nance.”
Spence shook her over-large mitten. “Medical doctor?”
“Psychologist,” she said.
Jordan shook her mitten in turn and smirked. “Well, Doctor Mona,
