Maureen Child - The Jarrods - Temptation

She sighed a little. “So, we’ve got father troubles in common, anyway.”

“You could say that.” He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and watched her as she walked to the sofa in her new home. “Speaking of your father, how’d it go when you spoke with him about all of this?”

Erica shot him a look. “As I expected. He didn’t want me to come.” “Why did you?”

She stopped, leaned over and picked up a throw pillow. She ran her fingertips across the heavily embroidered fabric, then set it down again. “I had to. I had to come and see and …”

“Find yourself?” he offered.

She laughed a little. “Sounds pompous, doesn’t it?”

“Not really. I’ve been lost before. It’s not always easy getting found again.”

Erica tipped her head to one side and studied him. He looked so in control. So at home. So sure of himself, it was hard to imagine that he might have suffered self-doubt or anxiety. But she supposed everyone did from time to time. The trick was to not let those times get the best of you.

She turned around and let her gaze slide across the room that would be her home for who knew how long. There was a hallway off the living room that she assumed led to the bedroom and— “You said there was a stocked kitchen?”

“Yep.” He pointed. “Right through there.”

She went to investigate and off a short hall, she found a two-burner stove, a small refrigerator and several cupboards. The fridge was stocked with water, wine and soda along with fresh vegetables. There was a bowl of fruit on the abbreviated counter and she noticed that the window in the kitchen overlooked an English-style garden.

“You hungry?” Christian’s voice came from directly behind her.

She turned around to look at him and admitted, “Actually, I am.”

“Why don’t we go get some lunch downstairs? I can answer your questions and you can meet one of your brothers at the same time.”

That brother being Guy, she reminded herself. The chef. Well, that meeting just might kill her appetite, but gamely she said, “Give me one minute to freshen up and I’m ready.”

Ready for all of it, she added silently.

Guy Jarrod had once been a sought-after chef, with a reputation of excellence, but when he opened his own restaurant, he’d stepped out from behind the stove so to speak. He’d learned to love the business of running the restaurant even more than he had the actual art of cooking.

Now, he hired and fired chefs, made sure everything ran the way he wanted it to. But being back at Jarrod Ridge doing what he did best hadn’t been on his agenda. Trust his father to make sure he eventually got his way where his children were concerned … even if it meant he had to die to do it.

Still irritated at being managed from beyond the grave, Guy had to admit that running the five-star restaurant at the Ridge was turning out to be a better gig than he’d expected it to be. He had big plans for the place.

Over the years, the restaurant and the general manager of the hotel had become, not lax, exactly, but complacent. They stayed with what worked rather than trying out new things. That was about to change.

All he had to do was get accustomed to being back here again.

“Excuse me, Mr. Jarrod?”

“What is it?” He looked up as one of the servers rushed into the wine cellar off the kitchen. A young kid who looked familiar, Guy hadn’t had time to learn all their names yet.

“Mr. Hanford’s in the dining room with a guest. He asked if you could come out to speak with them.”

Christian. Well, part of being back in Aspen was going to entail dealing with his brothers, his sister—sisters, he reminded himself sternly—and Christian. They’d been friends once, Guy reminded himself. Now, they were business colleagues all because of one old man’s stubborn refusal to let go of his children.

“Fine. Tell him I’ll be right there.” He left the wine cellar where he’d been taking a personal inventory—he wanted to know exactly what the restaurant had on hand and didn’t trust anyone else to do it right.

That thought brought him up short. Maybe he was more like his old man than he’d ever thought.

He stalked through the kitchen, out into the main dining room, his gaze constantly shifting. He checked on the servers, on the table settings, on the flowers. He noticed the tablecloths and the flatware and the shine on the silver and brass espresso machine. He had a sharp eye, no tolerance for sloppy work and he intended to make good use of those traits now that he was back running this place the way it always should have been run.

Guy spotted Christian sitting at a booth in the back. As he got closer, he saw that across from him was a trim, pretty brunette with amber eyes. She looked vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn’t place her. Which meant, Guy thought suddenly, this was the long-lost sister they’d all been waiting to meet. Her familiarity was simply that she had something of the Jarrod family stamped on her features.

They hadn’t noticed his approach yet, so he took that spare moment to observe her. Pretty, he thought again. But she looked on edge. And hell, who could blame her? All of them had been dragged back to Jarrod Ridge whether they liked it or not.

Yet she had the worst of it, he thought. At least he and his siblings had each other. She was the stranger in a strange land. Despite a flicker of sympathy for her, though, Guy agreed with his twin. A newly acknowledged sister didn’t deserve an equal share of the estate.

Christian caught Guy’s gaze as the man approached. He also noticed the appraising gleam in the man’s eyes as he gave Erica a quick once-over. He knew Erica was nervous about this meeting, but Christian was glad she would be starting out by meeting Guy. This Jarrod sibling had always had a cooler head than most of the others.

Well, except for Trevor. There wasn’t much in life that shook Trevor.

“Christian, good to see you,” Guy said, but he wasn’t looking at him. Instead the man’s eyes were locked on Erica. “And you must be my new little sister.”

She flushed nervously, but she lifted her chin, stuck out her hand and said, “That’s me. But I usually go by Erica.”

“Good one,” he said and shook her hand briefly. “So, you getting settled in?”

“I am, but I think it’s going to take me a while to be able to find my way around.”

“I’m pretty sure the front desk has maps,” he said, giving her a smile. “What do you think of the Manor?”

“It’s gorgeous,” she blurted, looking around the half-full dining room at the guests gathered there. “It must have been a wonderful place to grow up.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Guy tugged at the edge of the tablecloth, smoothing out a tiny wrinkle in the fine linen. “Christian told us you were in PR back in San Francisco.”

“Yes, I was.”

“That’ll come in handy, then.” A server slipped up behind him, whispered something and then drifted away again. “I’m sorry. There’s something in the kitchen I need to handle. Christian, good to see you again. Erica.” He shifted his gaze to hers and held it for a long moment before smiling. “I’ll be seeing you around.”

When he was gone, Erica blew out a breath.

“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” Christian watched her as she reached for her water glass and took a sip. Guy could have been a little more welcoming, but on a scale of one to ten, ten being a warm hug and one a shotgun reception—he’d scored about a five.

“A little nerve-racking, but all in all, not bad,” she admitted. Then she asked, “What did Guy mean, my PR skill will come in handy?”