Damned if she didn't surprise him. Damned if she wasn't one of the sexiest, most vibrant women he'd laid eyes on.
Damned if he'd do anything else about it.
As he strode back to his bungalow, adrenaline still buzzing in his veins, Ethan made one important decision.
It was definitely time to shave his beard.
Chapter Ten
Mia groaned when she spotted the time. She'd ended up falling asleep before dawn, and now she was way past her usual time of grabbing coffee and breakfast. She'd perfected the habit of appearing obnoxiously early to pick up her items, then disappearing into her room to avoid sitting on the porch and making conversation with guests.
She brushed her teeth, finger-combed her hair, and threw on shorts and flat sandals. Tiptoeing down two flights, she heard chatter drifting from the screened porch, but the dining room was empty. She quickly gathered her mug of coffee, some berries, and a dollop of Greek yogurt, then turned and headed toward the stairs.
"I haven't seen you around!" a loud voice boomed in her ear.
Ah, crap.
Forcing a smile, she faced an elderly woman staring at her with mad glee. She had tightly permed gray hair, thick-wired glasses, and obviously fake perfect white teeth. There was some type of blue plastic bird placed on her head, but Mia couldn't figure out if it was some form of barrette or hat. Either way, she didn't want to know. "Hello, I'm Mia. Nice to meet you."
"Ethel. Aren't you a pretty little thing? A little scrawny, though. Why don't you have an omelet or French toast instead of that bird food?"
Mia blinked. "Umm, no, thanks, I'm good. I was just going up to my room to--"
"Absolutely not, we've been looking for you all week. Come out. I have a nice rocker next to me, and we can chat. Fred! I met the last guest. Her name is Mia!"
Fred? Like Fred and Ethel from the old I Love Lucy show? Oh, this was going to be bad. She channeled her PR training for firm rejections. "Maybe another morning; I really have to get upstairs."
Ethel ignored her, grabbing her by the wrist like she were a wayward toddler and leading her outside to the porch. Barring ripping her hand away and yelling for help, Mia was stuck. Forcing a fake smile to her lips, she nodded to a chorus of good mornings and was gently pushed into a rocker. Her mug was placed on the small wicker table beside her. Blinking against the sunlight, Mia realized there were six people staring at her like she'd dropped out of the sky and had promised them a tutorial on invading Earth.
It also looked like a senior convention.
They all kind of looked the same. Curly gray hair, wrinkled skin, and an assortment of glasses. A few had canes propped up beside their chairs, and even in the humid morning heat, they all wore full-length pants and firmly tied old-people shoes. The men wore black. The women wore white.
Did their tour bus to Atlantic City get detoured?
Fred--he looked like Ethel's husband--patted Mia's arm, as if welcoming her into the group. "Ophelia said you were here, but no one could figure out where you've been hiding," he half scolded. "You've never once shown up for tea and cookies!"
Another lady cackled, lifting a glass full of something. It took Mia a few moments to realize it was her teeth. "We waited every morning to see if you'd leave your room. I'm Priscilla. This is my husband, Pete."
A tiny birdlike woman with a whispery voice leaned forward. "We tried to stay up late to introduce ourselves, but we usually fall asleep by seven p.m. Damn pills. I'm Dolly, by the way, and this is my husband, Ed."
Mia realized Ed was studying her with sheer suspicion. "I'm an FBI agent. Retired now, of course. Are you hiding from someone out here, ma'am? You seem very . . . cagey."
She swallowed back her fear and decided to face this head-on. She'd need to set the rules now and make them all see how she valued privacy. "No, I'm just an ordinary citizen, I'm afraid. I'm very busy with work, so I have little time to socialize. I hope you've been having a wonderful time at the inn, though."
They ignored her politeness and plowed on. "Ah, one of those high-powered jobs that suck the life out of you, right?" Fred said knowingly. "I learned early in my life that time is precious. These young people are working their way right into their graves, thinking money and success are important. They're not. You know what is?"
She glanced around as six sets of eyes peered over their lenses and waited for her response. "Health?" she guessed, grabbing her coffee like a lifeline.
"Time!" Priscilla crowed. "Fun! Family and friends and adventures. That's what we're all doing here. We're all going horseback riding and antiquing and skydiving."
Mia choked on the hot brew. "What?"
"That's right," Ethel said. "We're jumping out of planes at the parachute place a few miles away. The Ranch."
"Will they allow you to do that at your, umm, I mean--"
"At our age? Hell yes, or I'd sue for age discrimination," Pete bellowed. His button-down, pink-striped formal shirt stretched over his wide belly. His head gleamed shiny with sweat. "I'm a lawyer."
Priscilla patted her husband's knee soothingly. "And a great lawyer you are, my love."
"You made more money than me. I'm sorry you had to give up your career for me and the kids."
Mia cocked her head. "What was your career?"
Priscilla sighed in longing. "I was an actress on a soap for a while, but I made more money being a stripper. Of course, once the children came I had to retire, so I did commercials instead." Pete looked at her lasciviously. Priscilla winked.
Mia looked around to see if anyone else was shocked at the stripper comment, but there was little reaction. Holy crap, these people were crazy! "So what's your job, Mia?" Ethel asked. "Here, try this blueberry scone. It's homemade. Ophelia's baked goods should be patented. You look like you're wasting away."
"No, thank you."
Her request was ignored, and the scone was added to her plate. Mia had never known her grandparents. Now she knew what being trapped on a porch with six of them would be like.
"Let me guess," Priscilla jumped in. "You're in advertising?"
"PR. I have my own publicity firm in Manhattan," she said. Mia decided the only way to get out was to eat the scone, answer their questions, and tire them out. "I'm here just for the summer, but I work from my laptop."
"Who are you here with? Husband? Lover? Friend?" Ed asked.
Dolly slapped him. "Stop interrogating her. Maybe she's a lesbian, and that's okay with all of us."
"I'm with my niece. She's volunteering to do some work at the horse farm, and I thought I'd join her and get more work done. Less interruptions here." Her words sounded good, but Ed leaned in, his gray brows lowered in a fierce frown. Sweat beaded on her skin. Could he tell she was lying?
"Interesting," he finally muttered, nodding as if he'd figured out her game. "Very, very, interesting."
"What?" Dolly asked.
"Some things are better off left in the secrets of the soul," he stated.
Everyone nodded their heads in respect.
Mia shoved the scone in her mouth and shot up. Oh dear God, what was that taste? Real butter? The sweet tang of fresh blueberries danced with flavors she barely recognized. Her knees grew weak, and she had to fight for clarity. Is that what butter tasted like? Her body shivered with pleasure. "Well, thank you. Umm, thank you so much for welcoming me, but I need to go back to my room. I have to work. For a long time. A real long time."
"We'll see you later for tea, dear," Ethel said.
"Oh, I may be out or working."
"We'll knock on your door now that we're friends!" Priscilla beamed with pleasure. "We're going to play poker, so bring your money."
"Unless it's strip poker," Pete said, giving his wife another wink. His wife giggled.
Mia stumbled back toward the screen door. This was too much for her. Especially after her soul-stirring, panty-melting, mind-exploding kiss with the man she despised. "I'll be there! See you later!"
She raced back up the stairs
, closing and locking the door behind her. She couldn't go out there again. She'd have to let Ophelia know to put out her breakfast at four a.m. and come up with a code to let her know when the porch was clear. Skydiving? Stripping? Poker?
No. Just . . . no. It was safer to spend the summer in her room like her original plan. No more dinners and moonlight kissing and apple pies and the Golden Girls Gone Wild club. Things were beginning to get out of control.
But, oh God, that kiss.
His beard wasn't rough, as she'd originally thought. It tickled and scraped the sensitive skin around her chin and had a bit of a silky feel when it glided down her neck. Though the lips hidden behind his beard should be illegal. Soft and firm and full. Completely in control, plunging her mouth, his tongue demanding in just the perfect mix of alpha yet almost humble in the way he'd gathered her taste and swallowed her moan and held her so tight. And his body? Oh, it was deadly. Lean and mean and deliciously hard everywhere. There was such controlled, leashed strength in his touch and energy. No man had ever been able to get her so wet with one simple kiss. It usually took a lot of foreplay and patience for Mia to get revved and ready to go.
But Ethan Bishop had slammed her motor into racing mode in a few seconds.
You want more, her inner slut whispered.
Too bad. That man would never be her summer fling. He was too infuriating and arrogant and rude. It was too sticky, especially with Chloe working with him. The sex would be too intense--not the type of casual affair she'd be able to have fun with and leave at the end of the summer without looking back.
The image of his face floated in her vision. Those pale-blue eyes usually so controlled, suddenly flaring with a ravaged pain that punched dead and center and left her raw. The way his features tightened as he told the story, refusing to acknowledge his own injury or that he deserved to be whole. He'd given her his complete truth and stripped himself naked for those precious moments in the moonlight.
It had meant everything to her.
She couldn't lie. If he hadn't reached over and kissed her, she would've done it herself. There were too many emotions chopping through her body, and she craved closer contact, ached to be in his arms and soothe his hurt.
But he didn't have to know that.
Mia dragged in a breath. She needed to keep those vulnerable feelings hidden, or he'd be able to control the whole game. He'd be able to tempt her, seduce her, and, eventually, break her. He had some type of power she couldn't understand, but she'd been taught to recognize danger, and all her animal instincts were on high alert.
Time to focus.
She spent the day with her rear firmly in the chair, computer on her lap, and headphones in her ears, making calls to all her clients. A popular mommy blogger reached out, frantic over a viral scandal that claimed she encouraged her children to not be "losers" and to do everything in their power to win. Of course, the internet spun it, and now she was trapped in a social media frenzy accusing her of being a bad mom, fielding calls from Good Morning America and Today show to set the record straight.
Whipped up from the crappy injustice of judgment, Mia secured the client and spent an hour on Skype with the female powerhouse, promising that after she was done, she'd be America's darling again. By the end of the call, Mia was back to being in control and her usual badass self. This was why she relished her job. It wasn't about covering up scandals or lying to the public--it was about spinning the real truth in a way that helped.
She got up from the chair and stretched. She'd planned to skip lunch after the scone incident, but her stomach growled in sheer rage. Maybe she'd take a drive into town and go back to the Market. They had plenty of low-calorie options, and she could get some exercise in.
She made sure to sneak outside and listen before deciding it was safe to exit. With the porch clear, the crazy group probably gone horseback riding or falling out of planes, she rushed out to her car.
Then shrieked.
Hei Hei was blocking her path. The moment he saw her, he launched into a series of chicken screeches and shot over to her. She stumbled back a few steps, but it was too late. He was bobbing his head in mad glee and rubbing his feathers all over her bare legs.
Yuck.
"Don't do that," she warned. "You're not a dog."
Wheezy must have heard, because he trotted over from the bushes and united with the chicken in a show of affection. Bolt followed his faithful companion and joined the crew. With one leg being rubbed by Hei Hei and the other being licked by Wheezy and Bolt, she felt trapped in some type of crazed animal movie.
"Okay, guys, I have to go." With one last lick and adoring glance, Wheezy and Bolt obeyed, going back to their spot and lying down in the sun.
Hei Hei glared. Then pecked at her toes.
"No! That's bad! Leave me alone."
With a warning glance, she hurried to her car and headed to town.
She sipped her water while she poked in and out of some shops. Surprised at the stunning quality of goods, she ended up buying a sheer silvery scarf and a pair of fun chandelier earrings with turquoise beads. They may not be designer, but Mia loved the uniqueness and knowing they were handcrafted. It was difficult for local artists to make a living now with cheap factory products dangled on every corner. She made a mental note to buy up a bunch of stuff and use them for Christmas gifts this year.
She made her way into the Market, noticing again the lack of customers. The scent of some type of vanilla coffee hung in the air. The prepared-foods aisle offered a fresh tomato-and-mozzarella salad and a spinach-gouda quiche that looked divine. In food heaven, she picked up some extras for her refrigerator and to share with Chloe.
A shadow fell across her.
"It hasn't gotten better," Fran stated, as if they were best friends and she'd just been waiting for her to stop in. "I put up specials on the blackboard, but no one came in. Every day, I'm losing more money. I invested my retirement into this idea, and now I'll be homeless with my cats, eating garbage."
Damn. Why couldn't she just stop in and get food without drama? "You should never invest everything you have in a business with today's unbalanced marketplace," she said kindly.
Fran's lower lip trembled.
"But this can still work!" Mia rushed on, praying the poor woman wouldn't break down again. "Did you look at Yelp like I told you?"
"I don't understand it. I'm not computer savvy, and I don't know anyone who is to help. I thought everyone would just come in once we opened. I didn't know I needed to do marketing!"
Mia rubbed her forehead and made a decision. This woman cared about her business, and local shops were dying too fast. It had been a long time since she used her skills to help people other than celebrities or politicians. "Look, I have some time. Do you want to sit down and go through some social media sites that can help?"
The woman lit up. "Would you? How about a cup of coffee on the house? It's freshly made with vanilla beans and a touch of coconut."
"Deal." Mia dropped her Michael Kors bag on the table and fished out her phone. She opened up a variety of apps and typed in the Market's address. Not possible. She looked up. "Fran, what's your website address?"
Fran laughed. "Oh, I don't have a website. That's silly. Everyone knows where I am."
"How about a Facebook page?"
Fran frowned. "That's just for young kids to post photos on."
Mia smothered a groan. This was going to end up taking longer than she thought. "Let's start with the basics. I'm going to set you up with a website right now. I can do this on my phone, but it'd be easier with a laptop. Do you have one?"
"That, I do have!"
Fran brought her the computer, and Mia settled in. She'd do a basic website, Facebook page, and Yelp, and then move on. Of course, she'd have to show Fran how to navigate and post her specials of the day. And maybe she should sponsor that craft festival she'd seen advertised for more prominence.
Her mind raced, and she got to work.
Cha
pter Eleven
Ethan decided to stop by the inn.
He was curious. Since that kiss, he hadn't seen her. He figured she'd swing by the barn today to prove she had the right to visit and annoy him, but she never showed. Not that he wanted to see her. He was just curious what she was up to. Chloe said she seemed busy with work and stopped in town, but she didn't give him further information. The teen had been doing well on the farm and was getting the hang of it. She was also great with the horses and had a gentle touch that was hard to teach. The only thing that seemed off was when her phone would ring and she'd look at it with half dread, then walk away to talk in private. Could be a boyfriend, but something was bothering him about her behavior. So far, though, there'd been no trouble. She seemed like a good kid.
Ophelia was bugging him to get up on the roof to secure one of the loose gutters. Now seemed like a good time to get it done and check on Mia to see what trouble she was up to.
Unfortunately, he'd picked the wrong time to do a stopover.
He paused close to the front porch, where six senior citizens were engaged in a rowdy game of cards. Tea and cookies were out, and they were yelling loudly at each other while music blasted in the background. Sounded like Rihanna. With . . . Eminem?
Must be the group he was scheduled to take horseback riding on Friday. Ethan paused, ready to turn back before they spotted him, but it was already too late.
"Hey, are you Ophelia's brother, Ethan?" The elderly woman had a bird sprouting out of her head as she walked closer to greet him.
He bit back a groan and forced a polite smile. "Yep, that's me. I'll be seeing you later on in the week for your lessons."
"We want to gallop. Fast."
His lips twitched. "I'll do my best. Don't mean to interrupt your game. Have fun and I'll talk to you later."
"No, stay! I'm Ethel. We need another player for poker. You have money?"
"Yeah, but I'm just here to secure one of the gutters. I'm sure Ophelia will want to play."
Another woman joined her, offering him a lascivious grin with no teeth. Was her gaze roaming over his body, or was he just imagining it? "Ophelia had to run into town for errands. We'll wait for you, handsome. I'm Priscilla. Mia's coming down to join us, and we like playing with eight, if possible."
The Start of Something Good Page 11
