Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The only godsend for what had already been a long, tiring day was the lodge’s kitchen. Leaving Matthew to continue poring over the rest of the original blueprints, Rachel went to fix some dinner. Standing, hands on hips in the cool room, she pondered her next move. Did she just make a meal for herself, or should she feed her enemy?
This time yesterday she would have happily let him starve, but she was finding it increasingly difficult to remain angry with him. He might be deluded about what should happen with the site, but Matthew was, to put it simply, a nice man.
Why did he have to be nice? It was so much easier to dislike someone if they were an asshat.
I’m sure he hasn’t a clue how to cook. He’s probably had chefs at his beck and call twenty-four-hours a day every day, all his life. Though that grilled cheese sandwich was delicious.
With no delivery services coming out from town, if she didn’t feed her fellow inmate, he would starve. She could just imagine how that would go down with Dan’s parents. She’d let a poor man die of hunger just to prove a point .
He has a car. He can drive into town.
Yeah, but that’s not the point.
Great, now I’m arguing with myself.
Footsteps on the tiled floor announced Matthew’s arrival. “Food. What a fab idea. I bought some pancetta and spaghetti this morning. I’ve got fresh parmesan, and a dozen eggs. How do you feel about me knocking up a traditional Italian carbonara for dinner?”
“I’m surprised that with your background you know how to cook, or am I pre-judging because of your wealth?”
“My family didn’t send us to summer camp. As soon as my brothers and I were old enough, Dad sent us to work in the hotels, an entire month of our long school break. I worked in the kitchens at one of our Washington DC hotels every year for five years. The chefs were more than happy to teach me how to make a meal or two.”
Matthew knew his way around a hotel kitchen. The man was full of surprises.
“I meant to ask, how’s the stomach? I’m sorry I hit you. You kinda crept up on me, and …”
He leaned over and picked up a packet of tall spaghetti from the shelf, then pointed it at her. “And your defense instructor would have been bitterly disappointed if you hadn’t landed a decent punch to my solar plexus. All that money invested in lessons and when a creep sneaks up on you, you turn into a damsel in distress? No, I deserved to get hit.”
Rachel softly laughed. She’d spent a lot of money on lessons. Mace had its uses, but when valuable seconds were lost rummaging in your bag for a can of spray, the notion of actually learning to defend yourself was a better option. “Yeah, I used to walk through some rough neighborhoods in Atlanta when I was first starting out.”
Her office, the only one she could afford on her own, was in an area where it paid not to venture out late at night. Even during the day, it had been a less than savory place. Her ex had pointedly refused to ever visit her at work. Anthony had said he didn’t want to risk parking his beloved Mercedes in that street, but Rachel had always had a sneaking suspicion it was because he didn’t want to be seen in that part of town. And yet after three years in her old building, it had broken Rachel’s heart when she’d had to walk away.
Matthew was offering to cook them dinner. And he’d been nothing less than a gentleman all day. He was the epitome of a well-bred, well-mannered, all-round nice guy.
“Do you miss your home? I mean Atlanta. When this project is finished will you be going back?”
No. Not ever. Atlanta will always be home, but I can’t go back.
“I miss Atlanta, but I’m thinking of looking for another project like this one when you and I are done. I’ve worked on a few buildings that were up for demolition and helped bring them back to useful life.”
“I’ll be sad to eventually leave Aspen, but when I do, I’m hoping it will be with the knowledge that I can come back to Royal Resorts Aspen whenever I want,” replied Matthew.
He had money, and he had choices. Her life was a little more complicated. They were getting too deep and meaningful for her liking. And the cool room was actually cold.
“Carbonara sounds perfect. I just wish I’d bought some wine with me.” He raised a cheeky eyebrow. “I have a couple of bottles in my room. Let me go and get one.”
Wine and good pasta brought Matthew a gentle peace. Over an expensive bottle of Napa Valley Pinot Grigio, he and Rachel set their differences aside .
He tried to get her to open up a little more about her family back home in Atlanta, but each time he did, she steered the conversation away to another topic. Eventually he decided to let it go. If Rachel didn’t want to share her past with him that was her prerogative.
After setting her glass of wine on the table, Rachel stared at it for a long moment. He sensed she wanted to ask him about his family.
“You can tell me no if you like, and I won’t take offense, but can I ask you about your brother Jordan?”
Matthew smiled. “Don’t you mean you want to ask about his girlfriend? Chloe.”
Chloe Fisher was the world’s biggest popstar and people were always wanting to know the gossip about her and Jordan Royal.
“Sorry. Sorry. Forget I asked,” she stammered.
“Are you a fan?”
Rachel nodded. “I have a Chloe’s Garden tattoo on my ankle. I wasn’t sure if you had ever seen it or if you didn’t know what it was.” She waved a hand about in the air. “Since before late yesterday you were merely Matthew Jones, hotel accountant, and I figured you’d just thought it was a pretty design.”
He had seen the tattoo, but since he wasn’t all that much into Chloe’s music, he hadn’t recognized its significance. Not that he would ever dare tell his future sister-in-law. Jordan had said that Chloe’s fan base was heavily under thirty something and mostly female. He didn’t fit the demographic.
“Jordan and Chloe keep pretty much to themselves. I did see them when I was back in New York City last week. Other than that, there isn’t much to tell.”
Courtesy of a recent major documentary and an in-depth magazine interview, the world knew as much about Chloe as Matthew did. The other things, the private things, were not his to tell. As far as he knew, only close members of the family were aware that Jordan and Chloe were planning to marry soon.
“Can I ask you something?”
She stiffened. “Um, what?”
“Does your sister and brother-in-law know about us? I mean that we are lovers.”
“We were lovers,” she corrected.
Ouch. That burned. “On a break. Don’t try to tell me that what we shared meant nothing to you, Rach, because I wouldn’t believe it for one single minute if you did.”
She downed the last of her wine and rose from the table. “I’ll wash the dishes. Thank you for dinner. My turn to cook tomorrow night. Though I’m sure I won’t be able to match that pasta. You’ve set the bar high.”
He caught the tone of genuine surprise in her voice, and it chafed at his pride.
“I’ve worked hard to develop grace and elegance in both my designs and my food. You wouldn’t be judging me based on my family wealth now would you, Rachel?”
“No. I’ve made that mistake once already with you, Matthew. Lesson learned. But just because you’re a billionaire doesn’t mean you have good taste.”
Collecting his plate and glass, Matthew got to his feet. He stepped away from the table, pausing as he came to stand alongside her. “I’d have to disagree with you, Rachel. I happen to like you … a lot. And that indisputable fact tells me I have excellent taste.”
A bright patch of red appeared on her cheeks.
I wish I could kiss you right now.
Sensing it was better not to push Rachel into a corner, he resisted the temptation to brush his lips on her cheek.
She wants to be kissed, I can feel it in the air between us, but not tonight .
He’d caught her sneaking furtive looks at him all afternoon, when she didn’t think he was paying attention. Those stolen glances gave him hope that Rachel wanted what he wanted. For them to once again share the bone‐deep joy of laying in one another’s arms.
Before they finally left the old ski lodge, he would win her back. Rachel would be spending her nights in his bed. And that was where she would stay.