Falling for Mr. Wrong by Inara Scott

table, with seating for twenty, sat in front of the screen. A laptop connected to a glowing projector had been set up in the middle of the table.
    “Yes, that would be great, thanks.” Ross withdrew the jump drive from his pocket. He hadn’t been this nervous since his first big pitch to an investor ten years ago. He surveyed his host out of the corner of his eye as he plugged the drive into the laptop and waited for it to load. Armand looked more like a movie star than a hardened business mogul. Though Wikipedia had proclaimed him fifty-five, there was not a hint of gray in his short brown hair, and his body was lean and trim. His teeth sparkled white, and he wore a black T-shirt tucked into a pair of snug-fitting chinos. He had a long, handsome face with just a hint of cruelty about the eyes.
    Ross hated him on sight.
    This, of course, was not a helpful emotion. Herriot was his key to breaking into the Denver market. They didn’t have to become best friends.
    “I’ll just take a seat,” Armand said, a polite smile on his face. “You can start up whenever you’re ready.”
    The presentation opened with a series of slides of resorts in the popular ski towns of Aspen, Breckenridge, and Vail, several of which were owned by Armand. “As you are well aware,” Ross began, “Colorado’s mountains provide unparalleled beauty, and opportunities for resorts that cater to the world’s most discerning, high-end customers.” Ross cut to a map showing the general location of the property that Armand had identified for this project, which was near the western border of the state. “However, I believe the area you’ve identified will appeal to a different sort of clientele.”
    The slide show changed to a series of pictures of families, young children, and large gatherings. “In today’s tough economic times, families want to spend quality time together in a setting that caters to their needs, without breaking their budgets. We can provide that.” He flipped through pictures of people riding on horseback, couples getting massages, and families hiking on trails through the forests. “My concept has all the traditional amenities of a Western resort but we would target working families, not the sort of upper-end clientele that you’ve worked with in the past. While those markets have the potential for high profit margins, I believe we will find greater long-term potential and community support with this family-oriented model.”
    He spared a quick look at Armand. The older businessman had pulled his sunglasses from his shirt and was twirling them between two fingers. He looked thoughtful, but not negative. Ross decided to take that as a good thing. He advanced to the composite image that his design team back in New York had put together and paused. The central lodge was a beautiful soaring building with huge banks of windows along the front and back. Solar panels dominated one side of the roof, while a small fleet of bikes was parked out in front. Smaller cabins dotted the landscape behind it, joined by a meandering bike path.
    “This is our rendering of the property. I have a number of additional slides with more details about the resort and my financials, but I thought I’d stop here and see what you think about the concept.”
    Armand nodded slowly. He squinted at the screen, expression inscrutable. Ross’s heart thudded. It would be an exaggeration to say that everything rode on Herriot’s decision. Ross could try to head out on his own, but he knew how hard it was to start up a new business, especially in the current market. Getting Herriot on his side would be the difference between taking off like a rocket and pushing a stone uphill.
    “An interesting idea,” Herriot finally said. “I mean, I hate it, but it’s precisely the sort of nonsense I expected you might dream up.”
    Ross blinked, hoping he’d misheard. “Excuse me?”
    “All that affordable family bullshit.” Herriot waved dismissively.