The Witch and the Huntsman by Rod Kierkegaard Jr J.R. Rain Page A

that was stopping me from falling head over heels on the spot was a flaw in his aura. Unlike his stepmother, Eric Jaeger actually had one—and on the surface, it was one of the most beautiful I’d ever read. Warm and genuine and filled with golden hues mixed with tendrils the same cornflower blue as his eyes. I could see his open trusting nature and his need for love, his honesty...and then I hit a wall. There was a darkness underneath, a cold iron-gray well of reserve and secrecy like a locked bank vault.
    “ Okay, my bad. I came on way too strong, I guess. You just took my breath away, Allison. Can’t blame a dude for drowning in those dark eyes of yours a little, right? I guess we’d better get on with your orientation. What do you know about our Titanium Club service?”
    Um, like totally nothing. So off we went to the William F. Cody Room, while Eric told me about corporate retreats. And how hunting big game in the forest with crossbows built team skills that came in handy for executives in the business world. And how all these high flyers had to be kept feeling toasty and well-lubricated with samovars of Irish coffee and flasks of single malt served up by a smiling hostess in a fetching fur-lined company parka. That would be me.
    “ Was that Marisa’s job, too?” I asked.
    He stopped suddenly and scowled like he didn’t understand the question. “Who?”
    “ You know. The girl that worked here before me. Marisa?”
    I was sort of hoping he’d fill in the blank for me—you know like “Oh, right, Marisa Smith ” or “Oh, right, Marisa Jones ” or whatever. But all he did was nod and stop scowling.
    “ Oh, right,” was all he said. And for an instant his whole aura turned that dark slate-gray color.
    “ This hostess business...” I said as we entered the Cody Room together. “It isn’t like being a cocktail waitress or anything, like in Vegas, right? Because I totally won’t do that.” As in, I won’t be nice to the customers. Basically, my years doing shit like that in Las Vegas felt like one long wrestling match when I looked back.
    It took him a minute to get it, and when he did, his face turned bright red.
    “ No way!” He sounded almost angry. “We would never ask any of our employees to do anything like that! In fact, it’s expressly forbidden here. That’s partly why we’ve got security cameras everywhere—for your protection.”
    I just hoped they could protect me from getting my heart stolen.
    Okay, that was corny, but that’s exactly how I felt.

 
    Chapter Nine
     
    “ Heard you got to play hostess out on the slopes today,” Brittany said to me as we started our supper shift at six. Her tone was envious.
    “ Yeah, I guess they chose me because Marisa used to do it. Did you ever know her last name, by the way?”
    “ I think it was maybe Rodriguez or Lopez..?”
    “ My name’s Lopez,” I said.
    “ Oh, right. Well, it was something Hispanic, anyway.” Her tone made it sound like Eric only had a taste for tacos. Which, aside from being sort of insulting, also instantly made me wonder if Eric and Marisa had had a thing. Jeez, girl , I said to myself, you’ve only known the guy five minutes, and you’re already jealous?  
    Maybe. Maybe not. There was something there, I think.
    Besides, there was Marisa’s psychic hotline habit. The reason I couldn’t remember her as a client got explained during my break, when I got through to my friend Bernice. Marisa had been one of her regulars, not mine; Bernice said that the girl couldn’t buy a dress without calling her first—and that she’d given Marisa my direct number for emergencies.
    “ She must have gotten confused and somehow thought you were me,” Bernice told me. “Believe me, if she’d been having a thing with anybody at that resort, she would have talked my ear off about it.”
    “ Did she say anything at all that might help us figure out what happened? I mean, did she feel scared or threatened? Was anybody