by Nan Dixon
* * *
“WE’D HAVE TO finance the entire purchase and renovation,” Dolley cautioned.
“That’s what Mamma had to do when she started.” Abby paced over to the library window and peered out at Carleton House. Dolley’s warning didn’t faze her. All afternoon she’d daydreamed about this expansion. They would make this work.
“Does anyone remember how many bedrooms Carleton House has?” Abby asked.
Bess joined her at the window. “Six? Maybe eight? But I remember parlors, lots of parlors. Samuel could convert some of those.”
“It’s the perfect opportunity.” Abby stood on her toes trying to get a better view. They should have met in the ballroom. The balcony there overlooked the courtyard and the wall dividing the two properties. “We should craft an offer and make it contingent on financing.”
From her reclined position on one of the sofas, Dolley grumbled, “It’s a long shot that our bank will lend us money on this venture.”
“I have an idea.” Abby had been thinking about this all afternoon.
Bess looked at her. “Do tell.”
“We’ll use the money we’ve saved for the balloon payment for a down payment and to start the renovations.”
“But we have to pay off the loan,” Dolley said.
Abby slapped her hand on her thigh. “We’d ask them to roll that loan into the mortgage on Carleton House.”
“It might work.” Dolley nodded. “It just might work.”
“That’s what I thought.” Abby stared over at Carleton House.
Dolley swung her legs off the sofa. “We’d better have Samuel do a walk-through and give us an estimate. Mrs. Carleton hasn’t had the money for repairs. If she had, the asking price would be a lot higher.”
Bess ripped a page from Abby’s notebook and started to sketch. “We could tear down the wall between the properties. It’s crumbling anyway. I could create some sort of enclosed garden.” She added detail to her drawings. “We’d carry our flagstone paths over to their back door. That’s how guests would move between the two houses.”
“We should do family suites over there.” Abby nearly danced back to the sofa. “Not having rooms with two double beds has been a limitation. That’s the request I’ve been seeing from the Sister Weekend side of the business. If four women are traveling together, they don’t mind sharing beds or they want adjoining rooms. Dolley, what do you see from the website stats?”
“We’re getting more family hits. They want to keep the family all in one space.”
Abby barreled ahead. “We should have Samuel assess the house for adjoining rooms. They would add flexibility.”
Bess nodded, but Dolley didn’t.
Abby rocked on the balls of her feet, as if that would speed up the preliminary work. “Maybe we could have some rooms open by December. You know how many guests we had to turn away last year.”
“Better if we could open in November.” Bess bounced up and down. “Pick up all the shoppers. Maybe push a Sister Weekend with a holiday theme—Seasonal Sisters.”
“Great idea. We’ll need to know how much the mortgage would cost and how many beds we need to fill to meet the payment.”
“I’ll go over the books with our accountant.” Dolley ran her fingers through her short red curls. “Abs, I like your plan, but that doesn’t mean the bank will lend us the money. Maybe Gray...”
Abby cut her off. The idea of asking the man she was sleeping with to lend them money was a nonstarter. “Don’t say that. He’s only here through July. I would never, never ask him for money.”
Any time she’d allowed a man into her dreams, they crumbled. Her father and the family’s security. Maurice and the restaurant that was supposed to have been theirs. Gray needed to stay far, far away from her dreams.
“But...” Dolley started.
“This is family business,” Abby interrupted.
“You’re right.” Dolley sighed.
Abby linked her hands with her sisters. “We can do this on our own.”
* * *
GRAY WASN’T WAITING for Abby in the kitchen—exactly. He’d lingered over some pecan bars and sipped his cognac, hoping she’d stop in.
What was going on behind the library’s closed doors? Abby had been almost manic when she’d called him after their lunch.
He didn’t want to go to sleep without seeing her smile. Gray might not understand what was happening between them, but watching her face brought him more peace than the endorphins from a five-mile run.
Abby came through the swinging door, and her wonderful smile lit up. “Gray.” Then she frowned as though remembering something. “Did you eat?”
“Yup.” Gray grinned. He couldn’t seem to stop himself. “Just wanted to pick up where we left off at lunch today.”
He caught her in the middle of the kitchen and pulled her into his arms. When she wrapped her arms around his waist, his world brightened. One inhale of the spicy scent of her hair and his body went into full alert.
What pulled him to this woman? Was it her smile? The tilt of her head when she listened to him talk about his day? Or was it the way she refused to lean on anyone—even him? What the hell did she want from him? Every other woman he’d dated wanted his money or his family connections. What about Abby?
Was he only a minor blip in her life? Sex, fun and short-term. That was their agreement.
But shouldn’t she want more?
Even this tight embrace wasn’t close enough. Gray crushed his mouth to hers. Only her taste could quell this rush of panic.
They should be talking. He should be asking what happened today.
He took their kiss deeper.
She ignited in his arms. Their body heat welded them together. Her hands clutched at him, her breath coming in short, sweet gasps. Under her flimsy shirt and tank top, her nipples hardened against his chest.
“Come upstairs with me,” he groaned.
She didn’t hesitate, just took his hand. They made it to the foot of the stairs before he caged her against the wall for another kiss. She stood on her toes, never backing away as his lips bruised hers.
Gray broke the kiss, cursing. What was wrong with him? He had a perfectly good bed where guests couldn’t trip over them.
After almost running Abby up the stairs, the locked door slowed him down. He slid his key card, and then slid it again. “Damn it.”
He made the mistake of looking over at Abby. She was leaning against the wall, her hair mussed from his hands and her green eyes cloudy with desire. She’d already unbuttoned her shirt. Her nipples budded under the pale blue tank top she wore beneath it.
The lock flashed green. Yanking open the door, he pulled her into the room. Even as the door closed, he backed Abby against the wood.
She moaned as he ripped off her top. Then he buried his face in those breasts that called to him day and night. “This is madness.”
Her hands stroked him through his jeans, and he wanted those fingers wrapped around him. Now.
He tried to do too many things at once. Kiss her, unbutton her pants and toe off his shoes.
Abby had a lot more dexterity. His jeans were already unbuttoned and unzipped. Her laugh filled the room. “Happy to see me?”
He growled in frustration, until she pushed his jeans down and dropped to her knees. Her hot breath brushed his thighs. The first touch of her tongue almost set him off like a rocket. When she took him in her mouth, he groaned her name.
Pain and pleasure battered him like an ocean wave crashing against cliffs. “Stop,” he cried between clenched teeth.
Gray tugged her up. His hands were rough as he pushed off her jeans and underwear.
She stepped out of them and kicked everything away.
When he picked her up, she w
rapped her legs around his waist. He plunged into her with a groan.
He pinned her to the door, controlling every move, every delicious slide into her body.
Abby fought his shirt up his arms. His arms briefly caught high above his head until he shook the shirt away.
Then he took control once more. Every stroke, every slide of his body into hers took a century. Her nails dug into his back as she clung to him. His panting breath feathered her hair.
She twisted against him, trying to bring him deeper, to grind herself against him, but he wouldn’t give her any leverage.
“Abby.” Beads of sweat dotted his furrowed forehead.
He stroked deep and stopped. He wanted to hold off the inevitable. Stop time. Stay inside Abby forever.
“Please, move,” she groaned.
He couldn’t stop the inevitable.
He rocked slowly, one roll of his hips.
Abby came apart. She tightened around him, wave after wave of intense pleasure.
He drove into her, drawing out her climax until he came inside her in a rush.
They slid to the floor, limbs entwined and boneless. Their rasping breaths filled the room.
Abby’s cheek rested on Gray’s stomach. He brushed her hair off her face with a shaking hand. “Are you okay?”
“I’m waiting for my body to reintegrate. Maybe by morning.” Her voice was husky and half-muffled.
“Jesus. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to... I shouldn’t have...” He’d been too rough.
Gray gathered her into his chest. They stood together and walked into the bedroom. When she lay down on the bed, he tenderly covered her with the sheet. The mattress gave as he slipped in beside her. He tugged her so they were face-to-face. Their legs tangled together.
He buried his face in her hair. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She pulled away and touched his cheek. “I’m absolutely incredible.”
He tucked her back into the crook of his shoulder. Where she belonged. “Yes, you are.”
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, Gray topped off Abby’s coffee and poured himself a cup. By eating breakfast in the kitchen, they got a little more time together.
“Do you want strawberries with your French toast?” she asked.
“Sure. Smells great.”
“Good morning, Gray,” Cheryl called as she loaded a tray of French toast on a cart.
“Hey, Cheryl. How’s the crowd today?” he asked.
“Hungry. Even the newlyweds have already come down.”
“Fruit holding up?” Abby asked.
“Looks fine.” Cheryl wheeled the cart through the swinging door.
Abby waved her hand at the mound of fruit she must have cut this morning. “I guess I’m making fruit tarts for tea this afternoon.”
“She seems more relaxed, doesn’t she?” Gray asked.
“Cheryl?”
“Yeah.”
“I think so.” Abby pushed a few wayward strands of sunset-colored hair off her cheek. “A couple of weeks ago Cheryl asked what it took to learn how to cook.”
“She asked for help? That is progress.”
“I’m going to start training her. When we have catering events.”
Abby would be a great teacher. Patient but thorough.
She sat at the table next to him. Gray took her hands and stared into her bright green eyes. “You’re okay, right? Last night...I don’t know what got into me.”
Her dazzling smile seemed to light up the room. “Last night was incredible.”
“I was rougher than I meant to be.” He stroked a finger along her arm. “I gave you bruises.”
“Did you hear me complain?”
He shook his head. “No, but I probably should have.”
Abby brushed a kiss on his lips. Heading over to the beverage station, she brought a coffee carafe back to the table. Leaning close, she whispered, “Last night you made me feel desired and beautiful. How can I complain about that?”
He kissed her hand, tasting the oranges she’d squeezed. “I never want to hurt you.”
Abby’s smile wilted. “It will hurt when you leave. We only have so much time together. I don’t want to waste any of it worrying about things I can’t control.” She straightened her shoulders. “I plan to store up all this happiness.”
Gray reached for her hand, but she hopped up from the table and hurried to the teapot. She stood at the counter with her back toward him, pouring a cup of tea, even though she already had coffee.
“Abby.” He didn’t know what else to say.
When she turned around, a smile creased her face. Her professional smile.
He kept his gaze on her as she ate. Something seemed different. Abby seemed different. “What was the big sister meeting last night, or is it a secret?”
A grin broke over Abby’s face, a genuine one this time. “I forgot to tell you! The house next door is for sale—Carleton House. This is perfect for the B and B’s expansion. We could get ten more bedrooms.” Her hands waved above the table. “We could market Carleton House to families. Connecting bedrooms or two double beds in a room would meet requests we haven’t been able to accommodate. God, isn’t it fantastic?”
Gray had seen their financial position. The Fitzgeralds were asset rich and cash poor. How would they pull this off? Keeping his tone neutral, he said, “It sounds like a great opportunity.”
“It is. We have to craft the right offer price.” Her eyes glittered like emeralds. “I’m going to propose that we use the money we have for the balloon payment as the down payment. Then the bank can roll that loan into the mortgage of Carleton House.”
“That might work.” If they had a loan officer other than Wayne Lennertz. “What did your sisters think?”
Abby clasped his hand. He could feel her vibrating with excitement through their joined fingers. “Bess is sketching ideas for the gardens and talking about taking down the wall between the properties. Dolley’s worried about the money.” She frowned. “Our bank has to see what a great opportunity this is for Fitzgerald House.”
Abby bounced out of her chair as if on springs. “I know this will work. If we can get the cash to renovate, we’ll fill those rooms. How could the bank not understand that?”
Gray rubbed the back of his neck. Walking past Carleton house, he’d noticed cracked windows on the second floor. “What kind of shape is the place in?”
Abby paced alongside the counter. “I have a feeling there’s quite a bit of work needed. Its carriage house is probably in worse shape than ours.” She slapped her hand on the granite. “But Samuel will help. I’m going to ask him to walk through the house with me. We’ll need a renovation estimate for the bank.”
She plopped in the chair next to Gray, propping her chin on her hand. “It always comes back to money, doesn’t it? I won’t skimp on maintaining Fitzgerald House, and we’re committed to finishing the third-floor rooms. We have to keep up our standards. Otherwise we’ll lose our repeat business and the referrals.”
She bumped an elbow to his arm and grinned. “Maybe this is where you want to shower me with millions of dollars because I keep making your pecan bars.” Her eyebrows wiggled. “How does a lifetime supply sound?”
Something in his chest twisted. It was the second time she’d joked about him giving her money.
“That sounds delicious, but do you need to expand?” he asked. “You’re already adding rooms on the third floor.”
“This will help with Southern Comforts.”
“What?”
“My restaurant.” Her eyes glittered. “It would be connected to Fitzgerald House but open to the public.”
Gray sank into his chair. He’d forgotten about this dream.
“Ever since I came
back from New York,” she said, taking a deep breath, “I’ve planned to open a restaurant. With a larger B and B, there’d be more guests, and we could serve both our guests and walk-ins.”
A restaurant. Guests would rave about her food. Gray nodded, not sure what to say. He didn’t want to burst Abby’s bubble, but he doubted their bank would loan them the money. Lennertz didn’t believe in the Fitzgeralds.
She grabbed her to-do list and jotted notes. Muttering, she said, “Dolley needs to show the bank how many people are being turned away because we’re full. No, I’d better handle any meeting with Wayne. Dolley can give me the facts.”
“I’d like to see this place.” Gray brushed a kiss on her nose. “Would you let me go through the house with you and Samuel?”
Maybe if it was in terrible shape, he and Samuel could talk her out of this crazy idea. Or maybe he could help her. The idea sparkled like newly installed windows.
She frowned. “I don’t want to take up your time.”
“I’ll make the time. I’d enjoy it.”
Her smile was hesitant. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
He rolled his shoulders. She’d had more enthusiasm when she’d offered to sell him a lifetime supply of pecan bars. For millions.
He pulled her out of her chair. His hands found their way into her back pockets, and he pulled her against him. “I’ve got to meet Daniel. Call me when you set up the walk-through.”
* * *
“I’LL BE DOING paperwork and making calls for the rest of the afternoon,” Gray said to Daniel. “See you tomorrow.”
“I thought you were touring Carleton House with my dad and Abby,” Daniel said.
“You sure have your finger on everything that goes on with the Fitzgeralds, don’t you?” Gray frowned.
“I keep my ears open.” Daniel shook his head. “Carleton House will need work and money. Too bad their banker is so tightfisted. Anyone who’s ever worked with those sisters knows they accomplish what they set out to do.”
“The Fitzgeralds should find another bank. Or at least a different loan officer.” Lennertz was an ass. The idea of investing in Fitzgerald House—in Abby’s dream—had haunted him all morning. How would she react if he announced he’d loan them the money for their expansion?
