Mistletoe Magic by Fern Michaels (45)

 

 

Hannah was in a foul mood when her plane finally touched down at Denver International Airport. The flight had been turbulent, the man seated next to her had snored throughout the flight, and she had not been one bit happy at having to leave Leanne and her domestic situation behind. Camden had promised to keep a watch over her, but she knew that they could only do so much. Leanne had to realize that there was nothing she could do that would salvage her marriage; she had to want to make the necessary changes in her life herself. Sadly, Hannah feared that she might not be able to force herself to make those changes before it was too late.

As soon as Hannah exited the plane, she found the ladies’ room, repaired her makeup, and began her search for the area where Max had a limo waiting. She liked the thought of riding through the Colorado mountains in the back of a limo. Though she disliked the cold, she had to admit that the snowcapped mountains were breathtaking.

The drive would give her a couple of hours to rest and prepare herself for the work ahead. She hoped to find Max’s hackers, do what was needed, and still have time to enjoy her planned staycation at the beach. She did not like snow. She did not like to be cold. And more than anything, the thought of being at an upscale ski resort during their busiest time of year made her wish for the comfort and quiet of her beachfront condo.

“Suck it up, girl. It ain’t happening, Hannah,” she muttered to herself as she made her way through the crowds. She wound her way through the travelers, some loaded with tons of luggage, others with sets of skis, snowboards, and all the heavy-duty gear required to freeze in luxury. She did not understand why people would willingly place themselves in freezing temperatures and actually call it fun. But again, she was a Florida girl through and through. After a tram ride and a trip up an escalator, she spied the exit, where her limo waited. Just as Max had said.

“You must be Miss Ray?” a handsome young man with caramel-colored skin dressed in a navy blue uniform asked as he saw her approach the limousine.

She wanted to correct him. It was Ms. Ray, but there was no use starting out on the wrong foot when she already had one strike—the presence of cold air and gobs of snow rather than warm sunshine and a sandy beach—against her. She’d let it pass. After all, it was true. She was a Miss. Ms. just sounded better to her.

“I’ll take that,” the limo driver said, reaching for her carry-on and opening the door for her. “Miss,” he said, indicating that she should get inside.

“Yes, of course.” She slid across the plush seat and inhaled the unmistakable scent of real leather. A rich man’s scent, she thought as she tucked her pocketbook and briefcase on the floor next to her boot-clad feet.

“Mr. Jorgenson said you wouldn’t mind?” the driver said again.

“What? I’m sorry,” she said. “Must be jet lag.”

“I have another passenger to pick up. Mr. Jorgenson said you wouldn’t mind sharing the limo. He has more than one client to pick up today. It’s the busy season, you know?”

Hannah wanted to say, “No shit,” but kept it to herself. And who was this other passenger? Another ski bum taking advantage of Max’s good nature? She decided to ask. “So who are we picking up?” She tried to sound cheerful, as though she were truly grateful to have a companion for the ride.

The young man slid into the driver’s seat, then hit the button that opened the window that separated the driver from the passengers. “He’s a business associate, miss.”

“Of course,” she replied. What had she expected other than a ski bum? Max Jorgenson was a big-time resort owner, a former Olympic gold-medal winner. It only made sense that he would have associates visiting him year-round. And if they got in a few days on the slopes, all the better. If you liked that sort of thing, which she didn’t.

“We just have to drive to the general aviation side of the airport; it won’t take long,” the driver informed her as he pulled out into a long line of traffic preparing to exit the airport.

“That’s fine. I’m in no hurry at all,” she lied in the sweetest voice. She was starting not to like herself very much. Maybe I should refer to myself as Ms. Scrooge. She smiled at the unbidden thought.

“Thanks, because we’re going to be in some heavy traffic. Tomorrow evening is the beginning of Hanukkah, so we’ve got plenty of travelers who want to be settled in at the resort before the holiday begins at sunset. Mr. Jorgenson says this is going to be a record-breaking year.”

“That’s wonderful,” she replied, trying hard to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. For him.

“I know. I’m just thrilled to be a part of it all. My kid sister, she’s twelve, hopes to make it to the Olympics one day, so I’m hoping I can make a connection for her.” He stopped speaking, as though he’d revealed too much. “I mean, I don’t know Mr. Jorgenson well enough to ask him if he’d coach my sister or anything like that, it’s just that she’s very talented and needs all the breaks she can get.”

Hannah wanted to add that she could almost guarantee the breaks, but they might not be the kind he was hoping for. She didn’t, though. “Have you talked to Max about your sister?” she asked, trying to show some form of sincere interest.

“No! I wouldn’t dream of it. At least not yet. I . . . well, I plan to play it by ear.”

“Well, if you’d like, I can put in a good word for you. I’m sure Max would be more than willing to coach your sister, especially if she’s as talented as you say. If not, I’m quite sure he could put you in contact with another coach.” She didn’t know that at all, but the poor kid seemed so excited when he talked about his sister that Hannah suddenly felt sorry for him. Trying to make it in a tough world. It was hard these days. Even more so if you didn’t have the luxury of wealth and family to support you. She had no clue if that was the case now, but it was probably close enough. The kid wouldn’t be driving a limo just for the fun of it. At least she didn’t think so.

“You’d do that for me? I’m practically a stranger.”

True, but she could tell he was decent. In her profession, the ability to size people up was absolutely necessary. And this young guy was legit. And she would make sure his sister got the training she needed, even if it meant paying for it herself. Anonymously, of course.

“Just write your name and number down, and don’t forget to give it to me.”

He reached inside his shirt pocket and whipped out a shiny gold business card. “This has all of Tasha’s info, and mine. I’m kind of like her agent since our mom died two years ago. She used to drive her to practice every day, but I can do that now with this job. And by the way, I’m Terrence.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Terrence. I’m Hannah Ray.” She was sorry she’d been the slightest bit snotty. This kid was trying to make something of his and his sister’s lives. She’d help him and his sister. She made a mental promise to herself to arrange for Max or someone else to coach the Olympic hopeful.

Hannah might do lots of crazy things, but one thing she never did was break a promise. Even one she had made only to herself.