New Lease on Love Page 5

  "Chelsea, I'd like you to meet my new partner—Nick Tanner."

  She reached out and grazed Nick's hand in a semblance of politeness. Brief as the contact was, her palm felt afire when she pulled it away.

  "The balloon lady!" Katie's voice suddenly rang out. "Oh, neat!" Katie was sitting cross-legged on the Oriental rug with a coloring book and crayons.

  "Hi, Katie."

  Chet Lockwood reared back. "What's this? You two… Have you…?"

  Nick nodded. "Yes, we've already had the pleasure." His eyes avoided Chelsea's. "Just briefly though. What did you say your name was again?"

  So, that's how it was going to be, was it? "Chelsea," she said. "Chelsea Lawton."

  "Ah." He nodded and smiled congenially, but she wasn't fooled. He was wound as tight as a clock spring.

  As was she. She'd come here to talk to Mr. Lockwood. She hadn't expected to get Nick Tanner in the bargain. This was going to be some evening, she thought.

  "Have a seat, Chelsea," Chet invited. "What can Grace get for you? A mixed drink? Wine? Brandy?"

  Chelsea agreed to a brandy. She settled onto the couch, feeling unaccountably fragile.

  On the way to the liquor cabinet, Grace scooped up the half-full glass beside Nick's chair. "Let me just freshen this for you, Nickie."

  Nickie? Chelsea blinked her eyes wide open. The man sitting across the room was a lot of things, but a Nickie he was not. He might be Nick Tanner, private eye. Or Nicholas Tanner, star of stage and screen. But… Nickie?

  Grace was back in a flash. "Here you go."

  "Thank you." Chelsea watched Grace flutter onto a hassock with a great deal of skirt rustling and hair flipping.

  "I need more soda. And a cookie," Katie said rather demandingly, Chelsea thought, and immediately Grace was on her feet again—smiling.

  Nick sighed. "I'll go this time."

  After Grace resettled herself, Chelsea asked, "Are Katie and Nick the houseguests you mentioned?"

  "They sure are. They've been with us for two weeks."

  "It's only until I find a place of my own," Nick said, returning from the kitchen, "which I hope'll be soon. I hate imposing."

  "Oh, hush up. We'd be insulted if you didn't stay." Grace smiled and tried to hold Nick's gaze. "It's so much fun having people besides Father to look after. I personally hope you don't find a place for months, Nickie."

  Chelsea realized she was staring at Grace, dumbstruck. The Stick was openly flirting. Not that Chelsea found the idea of someone flirting with Nick unlikely. It probably happened all the time. But Grace?

  She shook her head as if to shake off her distaste and turned, only to find Nick Tanner watching her. But she refused to give in to the nervous flutters he caused.

  "You're not from this area, then, Mr. Tanner?"

  "No, I'm from Boston. How about you?"

  Mr. Lockwood interrupted. "Tell me how you two met. I'm curious to hear how you and Nick know each other."

  Nick's eyes met Chelsea's, and for one breathless moment she sensed he was thinking about their collision in the hospital entryway, when the slush on her poncho had slid to his shoes, when they'd smiled and said something about April and she'd found him so inexplicably wonderful.

  "We, uh, met at the hospital last week when Katie went in for therapy," Nick finally answered matter-of-factly.

  And Chelsea added, "I was there to pick up my sister-in-law. She's a nurse. She introduced us."

  "Ah, I see." Chet nodded and sipped his drink. "That would be Larry's wife, right?"

  "Right."

  "I saw the article in the paper about him a few months ago. Local science teacher gets his balloon pilot's license."

  Chelsea was relieved that Mr. Lockwood was satisfied with their sketchy explanation and had moved on.

  He half turned toward Nick. "After you're settled into the area, you'll get to know Chelsea and her family better. Crazy about balloons, all of them. For generations back."

  Nick's hazel eyes glinted with cool mockery. "That so? And what was it that turned you all so… crazy?"

  Chelsea sipped her brandy and counted to ten. "My grandfather. We caught the bug from him. He used to fly gas balloons as far back as the thirties."

  "The old man lived with Chelsea's family for a few years. After her father died," Chet explained. "You were what, Chelsea? Ten? Twelve?"

  Katie's head was swiveling from one adult to the other, her impish face alight with interest. "Did your mommy die, too?" she asked.

  Chelsea flinched, wondering what Katie could possibly be thinking. "No, honey. She's living in Florida."

  "What a crazy coot he was!" Chet said, still stuck on Chelsea's grandfather. "He went around in this beat-up old aviator's jacket, even in summer, and he had two fingers missing on one hand. Isn't that right, Chelsea?"

  She swallowed hard before nodding. "He lost them to frostbite."

  "Yes, but tell Nick where he got that frostbite," Chet urged, leaning forward.

  Nick Tanner already thought she was crazy and irresponsible. Now he would think her whole family was, too. "He was at a very high altitude," she said softly.

  "I heard him tell the story myself," Chet interrupted, laughing again. "The old coot was so high up, there was barely any oxygen to breathe. He kept blacking out, his instruments were frozen, his ears were bleeding…"

  "Oh, stop!" Grace shuddered.

  Chelsea flicked a glance toward Nick again, feeling his disapproval deepen. Her grandfather had been such a brave man, risking his life to gather data about the atmosphere. And true, he'd been something of an adventurer, as she supposed all balloonists must be, but he'd also been an expert at what he did. He'd taught her everything he knew. He'd been there when she'd earned her license at seventeen, and when he'd died a year later it was to Chelsea that he'd left his equipment.

  But the legacy she valued most was not the equipment, though that had helped tremendously in getting her business started. What she really valued was his giving her the sense of beauty he'd felt in flying, the peace and poetry of it. It had helped her weather the harsh uncertainties after her father's death, and innumerable calamities since. And suddenly she wished with all her heart she could explain this to Nick Tanner.

  Neither Chelsea nor anyone else got to say another word about her grandfather, however, because Katie suddenly blurted, "I chased Chelsea's balloon."

  "What did you say, sweetie?" Grace's voice was nettled silk.

  Katie moved her book and crayons onto the couch, settling herself close to Chelsea. "I followed her balloon. In the Jeep."

  Grace's pale blue eyes lifted to Chelsea's, demanding an explanation. They unsettled her, these seemingly weak eyes with underpinnings of steel.

  "Long story, Grace. Katie spotted us in the field Saturday as we were getting ready, and she walked down from Pine Ridge to get a better look."

  "Oh, no!" Grace was horrified. "Nickie? What's this all about?"

  Nick shifted in his chair, looking terribly uncomfortable, which caused Chelsea to wonder what Grace's hold on him was.

  "She… got away. One minute she was playing right outside my office, the next she was gone." His composure shuddered for a moment, and Chelsea realized it wasn't Grace; Nick was shaken over losing Katie. Until that moment she hadn't realized how deeply.

  Grace turned stiffly.

  "Uh-oh," Katie whispered.

  "Katie, you mustn't ever do that," said Grace. "You must always let your father, or whoever is taking care of you, know where you are. You could get hurt wandering off like that. You could get lost. It's naughty."

  Katie ducked her head and concentrated on the page she was coloring. Chelsea's heart ached for her. Grace had always been a bit of a pedagogue. The editorials she remembered her writing for the high-school newspaper had strutted with sanctimony. But, for heaven's sake, she and Katie weren't even related. What right did she have scolding her? Instinctively, Chelsea moved her arm along the back of the couch.

  But the
n she heard Katie rasp a heartfelt swearword under her breath, and she found herself struggling to suppress a grin. Part of her knew that Katie shouldn't be swearing, yet another part applauded her spunk.

  "It turned out all right in the end," Chelsea went on quickly. "We didn't want to leave her alone in the field, so Larry took her on the chase, fully intending to drop her off at Pine Ridge on the way. But Katie couldn't remember where her father was, and they couldn't spend any more time looking. I was getting too far ahead…" Chelsea dared a glance in Nick's direction. There. At least Larry's actions were accounted for. Now if only she could explain her own.

  "I squeezed the air out, too. I was a lotta help, wasn't I, Chelsea?"

  "You sure were, kiddo."

  "Oh, Chelsea!" Grace dropped her arms with a plop. "No wonder the poor child was exhausted that day. Remember, Dad? She was already asleep when we came in from the wedding. She was so flushed, too. I became quite alarmed."

  Now Chelsea became alarmed. "Was she okay?"

  "Obviously, she overdid it. Don't you realize she's handicapped?"

  Chelsea winced, and for a moment she thought she sensed a similar reaction flash through Nick Tanner, though it passed so quickly she couldn't be certain. Handicapped. She hated that term. Applied to Katie, sitting right here, she found it especially offensive. Still, Grace did seem genuinely concerned. Maybe she'd underestimated Katie's injury. Maybe she'd blundered by allowing her to join in the work. Katie had appeared to be having such a good time, though. The thought of stopping her had never entered Chelsea's mind.

  She was aware of Nick watching her again, studying the changing expressions of her face, of her eyes. Was he glad she'd been put on the defensive? She couldn't tell. She only knew his stare was making her dizzy.

  "Want to color with me, Chelsea?" Katie whispered.

  "Sure." Chelsea was thankful for the diversion. Katie moved the book so that it spread across both their laps.

  "Tell me about this new partnership, Mr. Lockwood," Chelsea said, suddenly wanting to hear whatever she'd come here to learn and be on her way. "As you can imagine, I was really surprised when I heard about it."

  "Most people are. I've run Pine Ridge for twenty years alone."

  "So, why now? What's up?"

  Chet chuckled mirthlessly. "Not profits, unfortunately. Oh, I know we seem to be doing all right, but every year for the last eight, we've lost ground. I guess my mind's been out on the slopes when it should've been on the books."

  Nick leaned forward, eager to take over. "Pine Ridge has the potential for being one of the best ski areas in the region, but unless something is done soon to improve facilities and expand, it'll get buried in the competition."

  "That's why I asked Nick to come aboard," Chet said. "I can't do it alone. Frankly, I don't know how."

  "Actually," Grace supplied, "it was my brother, Fred, who asked. He's the one who introduced us all. He and Nickie worked together in Boston."

  Chelsea reached down into memory. "Investment banking. Isn't that what Fred went into?"

  "That's right." Grace sipped her sherry and smiled beatifically. "Father was really lucky to get Nickie. Fred says he's a financial genius."

  Ah, so that was his line. Nickie Tanner, Financial Genius. Chelsea glanced up from her coloring. Now the clothes made sense. Even tonight, an ordinary Monday, he was wearing a dress shirt and tie. Still, Nick Tanner didn't strike her as a banker. His hair was a tad too long, and his pants, those expensive, knife-creased trousers, hugged his hips with a sensuality no self-respecting banker would ever admit to.

  Katie was giggling now, pressing warmly against Chelsea's arm as she watched her color. For the moment, Chelsea forgot her uneasiness and enjoyed this adorable child's laugh.

  "Oh, Chelsea, honestly!" Grace said.

  She looked up, startled. Grace's face registered genuine horror. Chelsea looked at her page, then up again. Evidently, Grace believed there was only one way to color, to the rules and without imagination.

  "They're aliens, Grace. From the planet—uh…Zingador. Everybody knows Zingadoreans have purple skin. So, Nick," Chelsea rushed on, ignoring Grace's disapproval, "you and Fred worked together?"

  "Yes, for several years."

  "Did you like investment banking?" Talking to Nick wasn't all that hard as long as she had an excuse not to look at him.

  "Not very much, but I didn't know it for a long time."

  "He was too busy being good at it," Grace intervened. Then, "Oh, for heaven's sake, Chelsea! Now you've got the child doing it!" Her voice was shrill with outrage.

  Katie's head jerked up, her expressive blue eyes dark with embarrassment and confusion.

  "Let's see what you've done, Katie," Chelsea murmured. "Hmm. Orange faces. Blue hair. These must be Bangadooleans."

  "Yes, they are," Katie asserted gleefully.

  "Well, I think you've done a magnificent job."

  "Oh, thank you. I think so, too." Katie then glowered at Grace, who had gone quite red.

  Chelsea swore she caught Nick trying to fend off a smile. As she watched him, one tugged at her own lips, too.

  She cleared her throat and glanced at the crayon box, instead. "So, Mr. Tanner, did you just up and quit the bank one day to take on a ski area?"

  "Yes. And no. Fred knew I'd been hoping to get into a business of my own for a while. I had money to invest, and the know-how. So he mentioned that his father was having difficulties with the ski area and asked if I'd be interested in getting involved."

  "Do you have any experience in the ski business?"

  "Not much. I ski a little."

  "Learns damn fast, too," Chet Lockwood offered. "Nick knows as much as I do already."

  "Hardly. But I'm here to manage finances, not to make decisions about ski bindings. Chet's the expert in that department."

  Chet smiled appreciatively. "What I really like about Nick is he's got the courage to take chances. He's a real firebrand, Chelsea. In five years, you won't recognize Pine Ridge."

  Waves of apprehension prickled up her back. "Really. What exactly do you have in mind?"

  "Nothing that Chet didn't think of himself. Years ago he had an engineering team survey the south peak. He's always known he could cut trails there. Ten or twelve new runs."

  The prickles were becoming decidedly uncomfortable now.

  "The trouble was," Chet said, taking over, "I never had the capital for such an expensive project, and I was afraid to take loans. But now…" He smiled with humble gratitude.

  "Well, it sounds wonderful. I wish you all the best." Chelsea supposed she meant it sincerely. After all, the more Pine Ridge expanded, the more potential customers she'd have.

  Chet Lockwood looked uneasy. He rattled the ice cubes in his glass, then got up and made a fresh drink. "If we go through with this project…"

  "You mean when, Chet," Nick amended.

  "Yes, of course." He turned from the liquor cabinet. "Here comes the hard part, Chelsea."

  "Yes? What?"

  "We're going to need the meadow you're using."

  "The meadow. My meadow?" That wasn't what she'd expected. She'd expected Chet to say Nick was making him raise her rent.

  "That meadow," Nick explained with none of Chet's uneasiness, "forms a natural basin to the south peak."

  "I realize that, but how much land do you need? Lifts don't take up that much space."

  "Lifts are the least of it," Grace put in excitedly. "Nickie has come up with an idea for a whole ski village."

  "A village!"

  Nick's cool, restrained stare was unswerving. "That's right. Pine Ridge doesn't provide on-site lodging. It loses a lot of business because of that."

  Chelsea moved to the edge of the cushion. "S-so, what are you talking about? Condos? Rental units?"

  "Both." He looked relaxed and fully in control.

  "Stores, too," Grace added. "Gift shops, boutiques— you know, the kinds of places tourists love to browse through."

 
So, Nick Tanner was really a developer, bane of balloonists everywhere!

  "We'd like to have a cross-country center there, too," Chet elaborated, eyes alight with enthusiasm. "And just this morning we were talking about adding sleigh rides."

  Chelsea swallowed over a lump in her throat. "I guess what you're telling me is I'd better look for a new field."

  Chet nodded into his drink, his broad face flushed.

  Chelsea's foot tapped a tight staccato. She couldn't lose that field. She couldn't. "Mr. Tanner, hot-air balloons happen to be a big attraction these days. They're bright and festive, and people have a natural fascination with them."

  Nick frowned. "What's your point?"

  "My point is, I think you should consider the number of skiers who return to Pine Ridge precisely because of the festive atmosphere we lend, or… or because they want to take a balloon ride. And how about all those people who come to take a ride and then decide to stay and ski? How about that?"

  Nick stared back at her, calm and unmoved. "A symbiotic relationship, is that how you see it?"

  "Yes."

  "As I see it, the scales are tipped steeply in your favor. More a parasitic relationship, don't you think, Miss Law-ton?"

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Please, don't take it personally. It's simply an empirical fact. Anybody can see you benefit far more from being located near us than we do from being near you."

  Chelsea rose half-out of her seat before remembering she was a guest in this house. She sat back, but she wouldn't let the comment pass. "Let's be honest, Mr. Tanner. You just don't want me anywhere near Pine Ridge."

  "I never said that." Nick sounded sincere, but she noticed his eyes avoided hers. "And I didn't mean to upset you."

  "What did you mean, then?"

  "I was hoping you'd understand how important it is for Pine Ridge to expand. The truth is it won't survive another two years unless it does, and the real estate you're using is vital to our plan."

  The room had fallen unbearably quiet. Even little Katie was stiff and silent by Chelsea's side.

  "When does construction begin?"

  Nick shrugged. "Construction dates are still uncertain. That's why we don't want to commit ourselves to any long-term contracts. In all likelihood, we'll be able to offer you another one-month lease after this one expires."