Read the book: «A Colorado Match»
Melanie frowned. “You aren’t going to give me an inch, are you?”
Vince knew the moment he’d lost the battle, which was the second their gazes met. Her nose wrinkled, making the smattering of freckles dance on her cheeks. He couldn’t keep his gaze away from them.
“Well?” she demanded when he didn’t answer her.
“Well?” he repeated. “What?”
“I can put the office back the way it was—which, for the record, was completely messy and disorganized, in case you hadn’t noticed.” The frown that followed her comment wasn’t, Vince thought, completely convincing.
“You would, wouldn’t you?” From the look in her eye, he thought she just might. That made him smile.
Then again, she might be teasing him, although he couldn’t be certain. She was hard to figure out. Whatever else was to be said about Melanie Frazer, she was nothing if not interesting.
And determined.
And absolutely beautiful.
DEB KASTNER
lives and writes in colorful Colorado with the front range of the Rocky Mountains for inspiration. She loves writing for the Steeple Hill Love Inspired line, where she can write about her two favorite things—faith and love. Her characters range from upbeat and humorous to (her favorite) dark and brooding heroes. Her plots fall anywhere in between, from a playful romp to the deeply emotional.
Deb’s books have been twice nominated for the RT Book Reviews Reviewer’s Award for Best Book of the Year for Steeple Hill.
Deb and her husband share their home with their two youngest daughters. Deb is thrilled about the newest member of the family—her first granddaughter, Isabella. What fun to be a granny!
Deb loves to hear from her readers. You can contact her by email at DEBWRTR@aol.com, or on her MySpace or Facebook pages.
A Colorado Match
Deb Kastner
MILLS & BOON
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“My son,” the father said, “you are always with me, and everything I have is yours.”
—Matthew 15:31
For Joe
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Letter to Reader
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
Vincent Morningway leaned heavily on his crutches, attempting—not entirely successfully—to write coherently with one hand, keep the telephone to his ear with the other hand and not completely lose his balance and pitch straight down on his backside. He sighed as he finished his call and dropped the receiver back in the cradle. Stupid crutches.
Stupid cast.
Stupid skiing accident.
He’d unknowingly skied over a patch of hidden ice and had catapulted into a tree. He supposed he ought to be thankful that his injuries weren’t any worse than a broken leg and a slight concussion; but at the moment, he didn’t feel very blessed.
The whole incident still frustrated him every time he thought about it—which was every time he tried to move.
Growing up in the Rocky Mountains, he’d been skiing almost as long as he’d been walking. Didn’t it just figure that the one day a year he allowed himself some downtime to get away from the lodge and pursue an activity he was passionate about, he had to go and get hurt.
Even without his injury, he was already angry at himself for taking time off at all, what with the recent fire that had laid waste to the day care on Morningway Lodge property. Pop and Nate, Vince’s interfering younger brother, had ganged up on him, insisting he not cancel his plans.
So much for heeding Nate’s advice, he thought sardonically. Ever since they were children, Nate had always managed to get Vince into trouble, yet another instance of an entire lifetime of strife between him and his brother.
Vince was still frowning when the bell over the front door suddenly rang out. He glanced up, adjusted his rectangular black glasses and pasted a polite smile on his face. No matter how out of sorts he was, he still had a job to do. People depended on him, and no matter how he felt, he would not let them down.
A petite redhead whisked in and delicately stamped her feet on the mat just inside the front door, then brushed her free hand down her slim blue skirt. In her other arm she firmly clutched a black leather satchel. She was wearing some kind of spiky high-heeled shoes, which Vince privately thought wasn’t the best idea, given that there were several inches of snow on the ground.
What kind of woman made such an obviously foolish judgment call? Either she was brand-new to Colorado, or simply too stubborn to give up her heels for something practical. If he’d had to guess, based on the determined look in her eyes, Vince would have to go with the latter.
“It’s freezing outside,” she commented as she tossed her mop of unruly, shoulder-length red curls with a tart flip of her chin. She had large, copper-penny eyes and an engaging smile, and she carried such an aura of untapped energy about her in the way she moved that she made him tired just watching her.
After she was satisfied she’d removed all the snow from her shoes, she glided toward the desk, so lightly that it seemed to Vince her feet barely touched the ground, and yet her riotous curls continued to bounce around her shoulders.
“I’m Melanie Frazer.”
Her smile widened, if that were possible, showing two perfectly straight, dazzling lines of white teeth. A Garfield grin, Vince thought; a smile that was at once so confident and friendly that it lit up the entire room, but which carried just the slightest hint of mischief. She thrust her hand forward to shake his, and then pursed her lips thoughtfully as her gaze dropped to his crutches.
All at once, she scrunched up her face so that the freckles brushing her nose and cheeks seemed to dance and snatched her hand back before Vince had the chance to move at all, much less make any kind of awkward attempt to shake hands with her, given his crutches.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize you…” She let the rest of her sentence drop off as her brow knit even further. “I imagine it’s probably difficult for you to shake hands with anybody right now.”
It was an obvious statement, but also a thoughtful one, Vince thought. Most people wouldn’t have considered how unwieldy his crutches made his movements, especially ones that required the use of his hands.
Or walking, but that was a different matter. He hoped he wouldn’t have to embarrass himself by hobbling around where she could see it, given how clumsy he was with the clutches. Whatever the learning curve was on these things, it was too high for Vince.
The woman shrugged, almost as if she’d been reading his thoughts. As quickly as her disconcerted expression had appeared, it was gone in a blink; replaced by the same pretty smile she’d shown him earlier, so honest and genuine that it reached her lustrous eyes.
“Melanie Frazer,” she repeated, emphasizing each syllable slightly, as if he were hard of hearing. Her right eyebrow lifted and lowered. She was staring intently at him, clearly expecting…
Something.
He didn’t know what she wanted. Or who she was, for that matter, although she clearly thought he should.
He’d already checked the register for guests arriving today, and her name wasn’t on it. She could be a passing traveler who mistook the lodge for a bed and breakfast, which happened from time to time, but Vince didn’t think so. He had the impression that maybe she was about to attempt to sell him something, although she had offered no more than her name.
“BBS. Boulder Business Services?” she prompted.
Vince shook his head, but Melanie’s statement reaffirmed his notion that she was some sort of salesperson. However, she wasn’t acting like this was a cold call. She was clearly under the impression that he should know what she was talking about, but he didn’t have a clue. As far as he could recall, he had never heard of her company before.
It occurred to him that someone at some other lodge might be waiting for her. In her defense, there were several establishments tucked along the highway, although most of them were closer to Estes Park.
Still, it was a stretch to believe she’d made such an error, given the fact that Morningway Lodge wasn’t exactly right off the highway. More like off-off, built privately, farther into the woods. And she was acting so completely and utterly sure of herself that Vince wondered if his own judgment was a little off-kilter.
He shook his head again. “I’m sorry. I really don’t know who…”
She leveled her gaze at him and cut him off. “The sign outside says Morningway Lodge.” She indicated the direction with a tiny jerk of her chin.
“Yes, but—”
“And you are Vincent Morningway.”
It wasn’t a question, but he nodded anyway.
“Perfect,” she said, nodding back at him and placing her hands palms down on the front desk. “Then I’m definitely in the right place.”
Vince adjusted his weight on his crutches and leaned back. He had the oddest impression that she was invading his personal space, even though all five feet three inches of her was still standing on the opposite side of the counter. This had to be the most unusual conversation he’d ever had, and it was definitely the most remarkable. To say he was confused would have been an understatement.
The bell rang again, crashing into Vince’s thoughts. His gaze automatically flashed toward the front door. His younger brother, Nate, burst through, his face flushed from the cold bite of the outdoor air and his breath heaving as if he’d been running.
“Ms. Frazer,” he stated, jogging up to Melanie. “I’m Nate Morningway. And I’m so sorry that I’m late.”
The man who approached Melanie was clearly military—or rather, ex-military, as his hair was growing out and he had a day’s worth of stubble on his cheeks. He looked years younger than Vince, although the two were clearly related, both with strong, chiseled facial features, firm jaws and similar muscular builds.
Nate reached for her hand and pumped it vigorously.
“Gracie—that’s my baby girl—apparently took my car keys off the table when I wasn’t looking.” He grinned self-deprecatingly. He seemed to be the type of man who relied upon his inherent charm to get him where he needed to go. Not like his brother, Vince, who, even upon their short acquaintance, struck Melanie as somewhat stiff and unyielding.
“I guess I left the keys too close to the edge,” Nate continued. “I looked for them, but for all I know, they’re in the bottom of Gracie’s toy box. Anyway, I finally gave up the search and decided to jog over to meet you. It’s only a mile or so.”
Melanie chuckled, half at the humorous story Nate was relating, and half in relief that someone actually knew who she was and, by extension—hopefully—why she was here. Vince’s bewilderment and the odd way he had reacted when she’d mentioned her name and the company she worked for had thrown her off a little bit.
“I’m the guy who hired you,” Nate explained.
“My file says my services are for Vincent Morningway,” she stated, a little confused.
Her hand tightened on her satchel. She was prepared, as she always was upon embarking on a new project, and she knew she wasn’t wrong about this. Vincent Morningway. Morningway Lodge. Built to accommodate families of those recuperating at a nearby physical rehabilitation hospital, she recalled from the research she’d done.
“Yes,” Nate agreed easily, and then poked a thumb toward Vince. “That’s him. Vince Morningway—my older brother,” he said in a teasing tone of voice.
“Vince,” Nate continued as a formal introduction, “this is Melanie Frazer. She’s going to be your new business consultant. She’s here to—”
“Excuse me?” Vince interrupted, sounding exasperated. “Give me some frame of reference because I don’t know what you’re talking about. What did you do this time, Nate?”
At first Melanie thought Vince had taken offense at Nate’s off-the-cuff jesting, but upon reflection, she decided it was more than that. Vince’s words were no less than an accusation, and sounded strained and harassed. Melanie’s gaze immediately switched to his direction.
Vince was glaring daggers at his brother, and the muscle in the corner of his jaw twitched rhythmically, a probable indication that he was genuinely annoyed with Nate.
“What did you do this time?” Vince demanded.
For some reason Vince’s change in demeanor struck Melanie as odd and out of character for him. It was a complete turnaround from her initial assessment. He’d appeared fatigued, maybe, but not cross. He’d been perfectly polite with her, and his gaze was kind.
As was her habit—possibly a bad one—she had already formed an opinion about the man she’d be working with. She’d had too much personality profiling training, she supposed.
The first thing she’d noticed when she’d entered the lodge was how endearingly disheveled Vince looked. Although his smile was strained at the corners, his bright blue eyes were clear and friendly. His sports coat was several years out of style, and his hair looked like he’d combed it with a firecracker.
Dark brown hair tumbled over his brow, and Melanie noted the single streak of silver coursing through it, a telltale sign as to how stressed and overworked the man really was; that, and the lines of fatigue that marred his brow, only slightly concealed by his rectangular black-rimmed glasses, probably the only contemporary piece of his entire wardrobe.
Still, he was a good-looking guy, all things being equal. And if nothing else, his currently tousled appearance was a clear indication of how useful her services could be for him—or rather, for Morningway Lodge.
“I can help you,” she assured him.
Obviously his younger brother thought as much, or he would never have hired her. Vince simply didn’t yet comprehend what her business could do for his business. In her experience, a few simple changes in one’s business practices could translate to a substantial savings in both time and money—the investors’, the family’s bottom line.
On BBS’s intake form for Morningway Lodge, presumably filled out by his brother, she’d discovered that Vince didn’t use a computer—for anything. Not even his financials. Given that information, she guessed he probably didn’t even know what a smartphone was, never mind how to use it to improve his business practices. Talk about the dark ages.
“This is going to be good for you,” Nate insisted, and Melanie had to agree.
Melanie was about to spread some serious light into Vince’s world, like the sunshine breaking through the clouds after a storm. All it would take her was six short weeks and a little cooperation from Vince.
Mentally, she ticked off the most crucial items, knowing she would make copious to-do lists as soon as she’d taken a real look around, her being a perfectionist and all. She would organize his workspace and streamline his paperwork, mostly onto computer spreadsheets, saving him an enormous amount of time in the long run. She would show him how to enter his financials on a computer, giving him greater accuracy as well as saving him time. If she thought it would help him, she’d introduce him to a smartphone, or at least a digital organizer.
“I’m not inclined to anger,” Vince said, his brow furrowed. He wasn’t going to make this easy for her, but tough cases were her specialty.
She sighed inwardly. She suspected Nate had sprung this idea on Vince with no forewarning, and she couldn’t blame him for his annoyance and confusion.
That being said, she could do without the extra hassle of trying to justify what she was here to do for him, or else face the serious possibility of losing this account entirely—not a good way to get a promotion in her company.
Patience wasn’t exactly one of her virtues. She wasn’t the type to sit still and wait, especially with a very attractive promotion—which she’d worked hard for—just one project away. This one last assignment and then she’d have the luxury of a cushy desk job. The director of operations position was hers.
It was so close she could taste it.
If she fixed the problems at Morningway Lodge.
She had the sneaking suspicion that Vince Morningway wasn’t going to make it easy on her.
Chapter Two
Vince was livid. Nate was grinning as smugly as the proverbial cat that had eaten an entire cage of canaries, and Melanie was staring at Vince as if he were her next challenging project.
Which he wasn’t. He was already shaking his head to the contrary.
“Just hear her out,” Nate appealed earnestly, which only served to make Vince even more stiff-necked about whatever was going on. If it was Nate’s idea, it was a bad one. He didn’t need Melanie to explain that to him.
“Boulder Business Services,” Melanie said, jumping in on the tail of Nate’s comment, “offers consulting services to businesses ranging from small family-owned operations, to large corporate entities. I can assure you we’re the best firm in the business, and of course I can offer you a list of references if you’d like.”
Not necessary.
He didn’t need references because she wouldn’t be working here. He was convinced this was just another one of Nate’s shenanigans meant to get on Vince’s nerves, and it wasn’t going to work. Not this time.
For Melanie’s sake, he would be polite, but only until he figured out a way to turn her down without hurting her feelings. She seemed to be a nice enough woman, and it infuriated him that Nate would put her in the middle of their feud without regard to her point of view.
“Consulting?” he asked aloud, stalling for time while he thought of a solution to this problem.
“From what I’ve read in my file, you are a bit behind the times in some of your business practices,” she explained, her voice gaining momentum as she got into her subject, about which she was clearly enthusiastic. “First we’ll deal with the smaller organizational issues within your office, like your desk and filing system. Then I’ll help you streamline the majority of your work onto your computer, which will do wonders in regard to running your office more efficiently.”
She smiled confidently, first at Vince, then Nate, then back to Vince again. “I’m here to bring your business into the twenty-first century.”
Surely she must be aware that she sounded like a television infomercial. He wasn’t buying any of it; but if he was, her charming, toothy grin would be mighty persuasive.
What did that even mean, bringing his business into the twenty-first century? Did he really look that out of touch to her? Some hermit hiding in the woods?
And what was up with Nate, springing this woman and her consulting business on him and then waiting for him to work out the details?
Vince narrowed his gaze on Nate for a moment before he turned a polite smile on Melanie. “I appreciate your offer, but I don’t need any help. I run the business just fine on my own, thank you.”
“All on your own,” Nate qualified.
Vince didn’t say anything because family business was family business, but he thought the pointed, eyebrow-arching, And-why-would-that-be? look he gave Nate would be enough to put him in his place.
After all, it was Nate who’d irresponsibly ran off after high school, joined the Marines and left Vince alone to run the lodge by himself. He’d been left to cope with everything alone, and it was because of Nate.
Nate visibly winced and smiled sheepishly, and then nodded, silently acknowledging his faults. At least he had the good grace to realize how ironic his statement had been. Even so, as much as Nate might be helping out around the lodge recently—now that he’d supposedly returned home for good—Vince didn’t think it would last. Not with Nate. He couldn’t trust his brother as far as he could throw him—although he could still throw him.
“You won’t let Pop and me hire you a personal assistant,” Nate explained.
“Because we can’t afford it,” Vince said, becoming weary of this whole conversation, and wishing Melanie wasn’t present to hear any of it. He wasn’t the kind of man to air his dirty laundry publicly, be it family or business; and he found it rather humiliating that Nate heedlessly seemed determined to do just that.
“What would be the point? Why should I hire someone to do what I can do all by myself?”
“Says you,” countered Nate. “How long do you think you can keep up this pace all by yourself?”
Vince leveled a look on him. “As long as I have to.”
“You’re running yourself ragged,” Nate insisted, adamantly shaking his head.
“I have to agree with Nate,” Melanie chimed in.
Of course she did. Everyone always agreed with Nate. But this was none of her business, and Vince wanted to keep it that way.
“Look,” he said, making an awkward placating gesture that was cut short by his crutches, “No offense, Melanie, but your services really aren’t needed. I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing.”
Melanie leaned as far over the counter as her short frame would allow.
“I think Nate is right,” she repeated, as if Vince hadn’t heard her the first time around. “I really think I can help you.”
What was with everyone? He was being none-too-gently coerced into a corner and he knew it. They had his arm behind his back, figuratively speaking, and now they were starting to twist it tight.
Nate, Pop and now Melanie. He couldn’t argue with everyone.
But he had to try. And he knew just how to do it.
“We don’t have the money.” The lack of working capital was the basis for his original argument, and he decided he would stick with it.
Melanie wasn’t going to work for free.
“This is a ministry, not a multimillion-dollar corporation. The families of patients rehabilitating at the RMPR Hospital have enough to deal with without the burden of having to stay at an overpriced hotel.”
He saw the corners of Melanie’s lips turn down just slightly, and only for a second, but he knew he’d said something she didn’t want to hear. Probably that she wasn’t going to get paid.
“Good grief,” Melanie muttered under her breath. Or at least that was how it sounded to Vince.
“Sorry, bro,” Nate said with a laugh. “We’ve already thought of that—the money part of it, I mean. That’s why you’re getting a business consultant and not a personal assistant. This is a one-time thing, and I’m footing the bill for it out of my own savings.”
Vince wasn’t happy, and he wasn’t the least bit convinced about any of this, but with each passing second, it was becoming more difficult to find a way out of the predicament.
He sighed. “One day? One week? What?”
“One time,” Melanie corrected. “The entire process should take about six weeks, give or take.”
“Don’t be so hardheaded,” Nate said. “Will you just for once take something that someone is giving you and not put up such a fuss about it?”
Melanie gave a clipped little nod. Vince thought she might be agreeing with Nate.
Again.
“I don’t have the time,” he argued. “As you pointed out, my leg is in a cast. It’s going to take me longer to do things, even without having Melanie…here,” he finished lamely. He had been going to say underfoot, but that seemed a little too blunt, even for him.
“Make time,” Nate countered.
“And if I say no?” Vince knew it sounded like a taunt, and he was immediately convinced he shouldn’t have asked the question at all. Nate was gloating.
“I’ll force you. I’ve already paid the bill up front. You wouldn’t stiff me like that, would you?” Nate offered up his most placating smile.
Vince lifted an eyebrow and then shrugged. “You’re sure about that?”
“Maybe not, if it was just me,” Nate replied with a wicked smile. “But Pop agrees with me on this one. Give it up, bro. You’d better get used to the idea because you are officially out of options.”
Vince wanted to kick something, except that his leg was already in a cast and Melanie was still looking on. He could argue with Nate all day and night if he had to, but there was no way he would argue with his father.
The man was still in a wheelchair from a recent stroke, which was why Vince was doing all the work in the first place. Pop’s condition seemed to be improving now that Nate was home and had presented him with a granddaughter, but Vince didn’t want to take any chances with his father’s health.
Melanie cleared her throat and smiled, reminding the men of her presence.
Vince wanted to cringe. She’d been standing there the entire time, absorbing all this personal information about the two brothers without saying a single thing. How completely and utterly mortifying.
But she spoke now. “I promise I’ll make the process as painless as possible for you.”
“It’s for your own good,” Nate prodded.
Vince couldn’t stand Nate being the victor of this game, but neither could he see a way out of this predicament except by going through with it. And it was just like his brother to rub it in.
Vince had the uncomfortable inkling, like a wisp of cool air creeping up the back of his neck, that working with Melanie was going to be anything but painless. He sighed and, leaning heavily on his left crutch, pushed his glasses up his nose and scrubbed his fingers through his hair with his right hand.
His head hurt. His leg hurt.
And he’d officially been had.
Vince groaned and pulled up a three-legged stool, seating himself gingerly and leaning his elbows on the front counter at the main lodge. He wanted to cocoon himself in the back office, but there was no one at present to watch the desk. His leg was throbbing and itching and driving him crazy—but not as much as the woman determined to make his life easier.
He didn’t know how he was going to get any work done. He’d never been so distracted in his life. He sat for a good ten minutes staring at the same piece of paper and then realized he hadn’t yet read a word of it.
He kept thinking about Melanie. And it wasn’t just about the enormous disturbance she was going to create in his admittedly clutter-filled life over the next few weeks.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw a brilliant copper-eyed gaze, red curls and a freckled nose. Even the cute little quirk of her right eyebrow came to mind, and he didn’t know why.
Melanie Frazer was going to be nothing but trouble.
Worse yet, Nate had offered her a room at the lodge so she wouldn’t have to commute from Boulder. With Vince’s luck, she’d be tailing him everywhere, at all hours of the day. At the very least, he knew she was foaming at the mouth to get started organizing him. His shoulders tensed just thinking about it. He was a private person. His stuff was his stuff.
Scowling, he reached for the next stack of papers and stared unseeingly at the one on top. The bell over the front door rang, and he pulled in a breath and held it as he looked up, knowing it was going to be Melanie. Both a smile and a frown wrestled in his expression.
“I thought you might be hiding,” she teased as she brushed curls from her eyes with the palm of her hand. At least she had dressed more sensibly today, in khaki pants and a chocolate-brown sweater that complemented her eyes.
More to the point, she was wearing a pair of hiking boots—new ones, he judged thoughtfully. They’d probably give her a blister or two as she broke them in, but they were still better than high heels by a mile.
“What would be the point?” Vince’s smile was winning the war against the frown, despite his annoyance at Nate for getting him into this situation in the first place.
“Mmm,” she agreed, cocking her head to one side as she studied him. “Sensible man.”
Vince cringed inwardly, although he was careful not to let it show on his face. She was teasing him, of course, but the words hit home nonetheless.
A sensible man. He’d been called that before. It was practically his call sign. If he were charming and witty like his brother, he’d know how to handle a woman like Melanie, instead of tripping over his tongue—and his thoughts, for that matter—all the time.
Hogwash.
He didn’t want to be like Nate. He had enough to think about just being himself. He had a job to do, as did Melanie. And her job, the way he understood it, was to make a nuisance of herself. The sooner she realized he wasn’t the type of man to change things around on a whim, the better off they all would be.
It was as simple as that. Or not.
He reached for his crutches and hobbled to the door separating the front office from the main room. Melanie scrambled forward to help him hold the door, and then hovered near his elbow as he awkwardly hopped toward the furniture surrounding the central fireplace.
He didn’t know what she expected to be able to do if he lost his balance. A tiny little thing like her couldn’t possibly catch him from falling.
“The doctor says I have to keep this cast on for six weeks,” he said, trying for a conversational tone as he dropped to a seat on the sofa.
“It’s bright red,” she remarked, staring at his fluorescent cast.
“Yeah,” he agreed with a chuckle, thinking more of the color of her hair than of his cast. “They have all kinds of nifty colors to choose from these days.”
