Page 52 of The Last Resort
An old album creaked as she opened it, laying it flat on the table. “This. This is why I want to save the old building. Look at these photos, they are the history of Aspen. And so is this place.”
It wasn’t the first time someone had tried to give him a history lesson about the town. He even knew the standarddad jokeabout it. “Do you know, how many Aspenites it takes to change a lightbulb?”
Rachel shook her head to Matthew’s cryptic question.
“One hundred. One to actually change it, and ninety-nine to stand around telling everyone how great the old lightbulb was.”
He’d read up on Aspen’s history. How it had been a sleepy-ish ski resort town until the early 1970’s when the celebrities and some serious development money had arrived. But he’d also found some people were selective about remembering the “good old days” and how tourist expectations had seen the Green Tree Resort fall out of favor and eventually shut down. It was all good to preserve something, but if no one wanted to come out here and stay, it wouldn’t be long before the doors closed once more.
The photo album was full of black and white images. They looked to have been taken in the nineteen fifties if the clothes people were wearing was anything to go by. The ski lodge was visible in many of the pictures, and by the look of it, newly built.
But that’s over seventy years ago, this building doesn’t look like it’s been updated since.
“You, don’t seem to understand that when I first came here, I didn’t intend to knock this place down either, but it’s just not worth salvaging.”
“Says who? Your Royal Resort accountants? Your local bank manager?”
Matthew scowled. He’d never needed to set foot inside a bank, so had no idea what use he would have for a bank manager. “Rachel, can I show you the numbers we have run? Take your time, go through them. If you can find a way to save this lodge and still make it a viable investment for my family’s company, I’m all ears.”
She closed up the photo album with a sigh. “I’m not saying that we have to keep the site exactly as it is, but the main building can’t be knocked down. The Brocks have made their position clear.”
Matthew nodded. “Yes, they have.” He was going to have to make concessions in order to get things moving. If in doing that he succeeded in getting Rachel closer to accepting the reality of this old resort and its dilapidated state, then in truth he really wasn’t conceding all that much. “But in return, I want you to agree to keep your mind open to what could be done with this site.”
Rachel dumped the photo album back into the box, then picked up a large cardboard drawing tube. Popping open the end, she tipped the tube sideways and a large rolled up piece of blue paper fell out.
Matthew immediately recognized what it was. “Wow, real hand-drafted blueprints. I haven’t seen the likes of these since I did the history of design in college.”
“These are the original plans for this place. If you want me to go through the figures the Royal Resorts people have put together, then I would like you to take a good look at these. Quid pro quo. If you want the scanned versions, I can send you a link.”
She was talking to him. Focusing on making positive head way with the project. He’d take that as a win. Matthew opened the blueprints and spread them out on the table. “These are good, I like working with the paper versions.”
Baby steps. If it took baby steps for them to find their way back, he would do it. The longer he spent with Rachel, the more certain he became that he’d found a special woman. Only a fool would let someone like Rachel slip through his fingers.
Matthew ran his hands over the blueprints. “I’ve always been one for touching beautiful things.”
He glanced up at her, and as their eyes met, she let out a soft gasp. The same gentle sigh she’d given him whenever they’d made love.
I will touch you again. And soon.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Rachel couldn’t help herself—she kept stealing glances at him. At first, she’d convinced herself it was everything to do with Matthew looking over the blueprints for the original lodge, and absolutely nothing to do with him or the way that a lock of his chocolate brown hair kept falling forward across his brow.
I also like touching beautiful things. And this man is magnificent.
Her fingers itched to slip his glasses from his face, then gently brush his hair away so she could take in his devilish, coffee-colored eyes. Her lips had other ideas about what they would like to do to Matthew’s face. To his skin. To his entire naked body.
Chocolate. Coffee. She couldn’t get past the whole food fetish thing when it came to him.
Memories of taking his cock into her mouth and working him over until she eventually brought him to completion had Rachel pushing back her chair, snatching up her phone, and hurriedly leaving the room. “I have to get some fresh air.”
It was getting dark outside in the parking lot, she stoppedand took a deep calming breath. Getting involved with Matthew had been a mistake.
I can’t even allow myself a “no complications hot fling” without it coming back to bite me on the ass. Nope, stop thinking about asses.
Mister Matthew Royal had a fine ass. Every time she’d woken beside him in his bed and brushed her fingertips over the firm muscle, he’d rolled over, flipped her onto her back and within seconds had buried himself deep in her greedy, needy sex.
She was going to have to find a way to work with him without the constant fear of giving into temptation; of outright throwing all caution to the wind and jumping Matthew’s bones.
