The Man Most Likely. Cindi Myers

Besides, Trish is the kind of woman who needs to take care of someone. I’m helping her fulfill her destiny.”

      Bryan grinned. “Who would have thought you’d be anyone’s destiny?”

      “So truth, dude, how’s it going?” Zephyr looked around the office. “This looks like a really stuffy scene.”

      “It’s not so bad,” Bryan said. “And it feels good to finally be putting all that expensive education to work.”

      “A college education is never wasted. At least that’s what I always tell my parents. Anyway, I never saw you as a management type. The whole all-work-and-no-play thing is such a drag.”

      “Hey, I’m still me,” Bryan protested. “Just me who can afford to eat something better than ramen noodles five nights a week. And me with better clothes.” He smoothed the lapels of the suit, for which he’d paid extra to have tailored to a custom fit.

      “Clothes, but not style.” Zephyr adjusted his parka. “Only a few of us really know how to wear clothes.”

      “Bryan, did you make those phone calls I asked you to make?”

      Bryan straightened as Carl Phelps, the manager of the Elevation Hotel, entered the office. Carl stared at Zephyr, one eyebrow raised in question. “Is this a friend of yours?” he asked.

      “He was just leaving.” Bryan shoved Zephyr off the corner of the desk.

      Zephyr landed on his feet and strode toward Carl, hand outstretched. “I’m Zephyr,” he said. “I’m here scouting locations for my new cable television show, The Z Hour. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

      Carl slowly shook his head.

      Zephyr did a three-sixty turn. “This place has possibilities. I could see setting up the cameras in the lobby, maybe doing a little feature.”

      Carl stared at Bryan over Zephyr’s shoulder, silently telegraphing the question, Is this guy for real? Bryan managed a smile and a nod. Zephyr was real, all right; he just made his own reality.

      “It was great to meet you.” Zephyr grabbed Carl’s hand and pumped it. “We’ll talk later. I’ll have my people call your people. We’ll do lunch.” He strolled out of the office, pausing to collect a mint from a bowl on the credenza by the door.

      Bryan sank back in his chair, suppressing a grin. Nothing like a visit from Zephyr to liven up a dull afternoon.

      “Did you take care of those phone calls?” Carl asked.

      “Oh, yeah. Yes, sir.” Bryan moved the stapler and memo pads back into place. “The contractor will be in to repair the dining room window on Monday, and I’m meeting with Ms. Krizova tomorrow afternoon about the community theater fund-raiser.” A meeting that would no doubt be the highlight of his day. Maybe his week.

      “Good.” Carl sat in the chair across from Brian’s desk. “You’re doing a fine job.” He glanced toward the door. “Was your friend serious? Does he really have a television show?”

      “He does. It’s sort of a talk show–local affairs thing he started this summer. So far it’s been really successful.” That was the thing about Zephyr—he looked and acted like a bum, but there was a real brain underneath that shaggy hair, and he had the personality to carry off anything.

      Bryan was more reserved and lately, the take-life-as-it-comes philosophy hadn’t been very satisfying. He was ready to go out and make things happen, hence the decision to trade in his ripped jeans and knit caps for a suit and tie and finally use the degree he’d earned seven years earlier. The day after attending his third wedding of the summer, he’d awakened in the morning and realized he was ready to grow up. He wanted the whole picture—the steady job, the house, the wife and kids, everything.

      In some ways, it was the most radical thing he’d ever done. And one of the hardest.

      “I suppose appearing on that kind of show could be good publicity,” Carl said. “What do you think?”

      Bryan considered the question. “It would be good,” he said. “Zephyr pulls in a pretty diverse audience, plus the hotel could benefit from the exposure. It would help us seem more a part of the community, instead of some big corporate interloper.” The Elevation was relatively new on the Crested Butte scene; Carl had arrived only a month before hiring Bryan.

      “Exactly.” Carl nodded. “You’ve got the instincts I was looking for when I hired you.” He leaned back in his chair, hands folded on his stomach. “There were people here who had their doubts, considering your lack of experience, but I have a good sense for these things.”

      “I appreciate you giving me a chance,” Bryan said. If only other people would be more willing to see him differently. He’d heard some of his friends had actually made bets on how long he’d last in this new lifestyle.

      “This theater fund-raiser is exactly the sort of community function I hope we’ll do more of,” Carl continued. “I’m counting on you to see that it all goes smoothly.”

      “I’m looking forward to it.” It didn’t hurt that sultry-voiced Angela Krizova was his liaison with the theater group. She’d sounded young and sexy on the phone, and she had her own successful business. Zephyr might give him a hard time about being all work and no play, but Bryan wasn’t opposed to mixing business with pleasure, especially where an appealing woman was concerned. Maybe Angela was the ideal woman for a young professional on his way up.

      

      “LET ME GUESS. You couldn’t afford a beach vacation, so you decided to make your own.”

      Angela Krizova looked up from the work table behind the front counter of the Chocolate Moose at her friend from the Mountain Theatre, Tanya Bledso, who had just come in from the snowstorm raging outside. Angela adjusted the silk orchid she’d tucked behind her left ear, wiped her hands on her Hawaiian print apron, and gave a hula shimmy as she went to greet her friend. “If I can’t get to paradise, then paradise can come to me,” she said. “What do you think?”

      Tanya unwound a pink woolen scarf from around her throat and looked around at the candy shop turned tropical escape. Jimmy Buffett crooned in the background and the four tables in front were covered in tropical-print fabric and strewn with silk flowers. A placard by the cash register announced a special on macadamia nut truffles, and the stuffed moose head on the back wall wore sunglasses and a colorful lei. With the heat turned up to seventy-five, condensation had formed on the front windows, obscuring the sight of winter.

      “Nice,” Tanya said at last. “Can I stay here until June?”

      “Next week I may decide I feel like traveling to Scotland, but this week, it’s Hawaii comes to Elk Avenue,” Angela said. “Tell all your friends.” She moved back behind the counter. “What can I get you?”

      “I was going to ask for hot chocolate, but it seems inappropriate now.” Tanya sat at one of the tables, her gloves, parka, scarf and hat piled in a chair beside her.

      “How about a non-alcoholic chocolate colada and a couple of the chocolate gingersnaps I just pulled out of the oven?”

      “Sounds heavenly. And fattening.” Tanya made a face. “I’ll try a small one.”

      “One more reason I’m glad I’m not a leading lady,” Angela said as she dumped coconut milk, pineapple juice and chocolate syrup into a blender. “Nobody cares if the heroine’s sidekick wears a size sixteen.” Besides, if she’d been that concerned with being skinny, she wouldn’t have started a business that required dealing with sugar, cream, butter and other luscious ingredients all day.

      “You’re the best sidekick I ever had,” Tanya said. “You can act rings around some of the people I worked with in L.A.”

      “Can we print that in the playbill of the next Mountain Theatre production?” Angela splashed skim milk into the blender and added a scoop of ice. “Former Hollywood star