Still, there was more simmering beneath the surface. Another reason she wouldn’t let him close. Another reason for her animosity. Instead of diminishing, it had grown by leaps and bounds this past year.
“What? There a monster in the room? Move.” She poked him in the back to nudge him along.
“Sorry. Seeing this space took me back a few years. Although I’ve gotta say, it never looked like this when Wes and I played up here.”
She laughed. “No, it didn’t. You guys were pigs.”
“That’s kind of harsh.”
“The truth sometimes is.”
He grinned at her over his shoulder. “You’re probably right.”
Pointing at a stack of boxes in one corner, he asked, “Coming or going?”
“I’m not totally unpacked yet.” She sighed. “Six days and I’m suffering withdrawal.”
“Withdrawal?”
“No Starbucks. No Ned’s Espresso. No Clary’s corned beef hash for breakfast. No Saturday morning walks through Forsyth Park. I miss my favorite haunts.”
“Guess you would.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Probably. But you chose to come home.”
She nodded. “I did. Sort of.”
He grunted. “Understood.”
He took in the pale blush-colored walls, the pastel flower-covered bedspread on a simple white bed, the antique dresser and mirror. All the little doodads she’d strewn around the place.
But it was the far end that grabbed his interest. Jenni Beth’s work area. The rough walls there had been painted the color of expensive French vanilla ice cream, and she’d practically covered them with bulletin boards hidden beneath fabric swatches, paint chips, pencil drawings, and pages torn from decorating and bridal magazines.
Wicker baskets crowded beneath a desk area. A sewing machine hunkered on an old pedestal table.
Here was where she created her dreams—and it fascinated him. The alcove provided a glimpse into her thought process. Into what moved her. Into the real her.
Jenni Beth crossed the room. “I’m working on slip coverings for the dining room chairs right now. With luck, I can find fabric for new drapes.”
“Be easier to buy them.”
She fingered the material on her table. “Yes, it would be. A whole lot easier. And a whole lot more expensive.”
“True.”
“I’m trying to decide whether to spend the extra money to pool them.”
“They’ll just gather more dust puddling on the floor.”
“I know, but to be authentic…” She trailed off. “Our ancestors did it to show their wealth, you know. To flaunt the fact they had enough money to waste it.” She pulled a face. “I don’t. Of course, the extra fabric did double duty as a flycatcher, too, but with air-conditioning, we don’t have the windows open all that much.” She sighed. “Decisions, decisions.”
He joined her at her desk. “Show me your plans.”
She slid a notebook and a file from a pile on the corner of her desk. “I have cost estimates, projected income, everything in here.”
He breathed in her fresh scent, the faint smell of flowers, then opened the file and sank onto the chair. She’d been thorough, had done her homework. When she’d worked in Savannah at Chateau Rouge, she’d been good at her job, at taking care of the details. He knew that. But if he needed more proof of her ability, here it was, smack-dab in front of him.
“Is this what you presented to Richard?”
“Yes.”
“Did you show him all of this?” He waved a hand over the papers.
“I sure did. And I left him a copy of everything in a nice neat folder.”
“And still he didn’t give you an answer.”
She refused to look at him. “No. No answer.”
“He’s a prick.”
Slowly, she turned her head toward him. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Cole’s focus wavered as those incredible eyes met his own, debated again the wisdom of withholding the phone conversation. Too many variables. If Richard changed his mind, he’d have stirred up a hornet’s nest for nothing.
But if Richard didn’t have a change of heart, Cole figured he’d stick close, make sure Jenni Beth got her dream with no interference from the banker.
He turned his attention to the file again. This was what Richard had brushed aside. Even after reading through it, he intended to exploit Jenni Beth, insist she use her bottomland, land worth a whole hell of a lot more than the loan, as collateral.
What did the man have up his sleeve? One section alone wouldn’t do much. There was more here than met the eye. Richard Thorndike would bear watching.
As he digested her plan, her numbers, he became vaguely aware of her moving behind him.
“Jenni Beth, I’m blown away at the work you’ve put into this.”
“Thank you.”
Closing the notebook, he turned to find her cross-legged in the middle of that big old bed. Out-of-bounds reactions assaulted him. Being here alone with her in her bedroom? Bad, bad idea. Appalled at the feelings coursing through him, he fought to curb them.
This is Wes’s sister. His kid sister. He repeated the words over and over in his head like a mantra. He couldn’t mess with her. Yet he’d done exactly that in Savannah. For one night, they’d given in to their feelings, feelings they’d tried to ignore for years. They’d made love. He should be satisfied, but he wasn’t. Far from it—he wanted so much more.
But then, he wasn’t the marrying kind. She was. It wouldn’t be fair to take more. End of story.
His conscience dueled with his libido. Maybe it was this room. He’d reverted to a horny teenager, for pity’s sake. Blindly, he turned back to her file and stared at the top sheet. Dug deep for some self-control.
Three strides would take him to her. To her bed. His fantasies. He raised a hand to his forehead and found actual beads of sweat. And they weren’t caused by the attic heat. Nope. A window air-conditioning unit had the room’s temperature under control.
It was Jenni Beth. It was him. It was an eighteen-year-old’s hormones running amok in a twenty-seven-year-old’s body. He’d crossed those boundaries once and vowed it would never, ever happen again.
So why now?
That damn little porch dance he’d witnessed, that’s why. He’d been on edge ever since. She’d put crazy thoughts in his head. Thoughts that didn’t belong, that had no place in there.
Thoughts he needed to blow out of the water.
This sweet little Southern belle was dangerous, and he’d do well to remember that.
Maybe his plan to stay in town a couple days, to keep an eye on her, wasn’t such a great idea. If he had a grain of sense, he’d get the heck out of Dodge—or go out and have some fun.
Time to call Beck. The two of them could do the town. He almost snorted aloud. The town. Such as it was. Misty Bottoms used to be enough, though. Yeah, and there used to be more of it.
This whole miserable situation depressed him.
He skimmed another page in her notebook. Hell, she’d need nothing short of a miracle to pull this off.
“I know how important this is to you,” he started.
The look she sent him would have put even a mother superior to shame. She scooted off the bed and stood, arms crossed, tapping her pink-tipped toes in those strappy little sandals.
“But?” she prodded.
“Damn it all to hell, girl. If you’d lose those rose-colored glasses for even a few minutes, you’d realize exactly how much you’re biting off.”
“I’m not a girl. I’m a woman, Cole. You think I don’t know how bad the house is?” Angry tears misted those gorgeous blue eyes and made him feel a bigger heel.
“Jenni Beth.” He reached for her, but she took a step back.
“Don’t Jenni Beth me. And these damn tears. I’m so disgusted.”
“What?”
“I knew this house was crumbling, but showing you through it, seeing it through your eyes—” She broke off. “It’s humiliating.”
“Humiliating?”
“I’m ashamed of what we’ve let happen to Magnolia House. Grandpa Huxley left her to our safekeeping, and we didn’t take care of her.”
“Sweetheart, there’s no shame here. Look at me.” He crossed to her. Cupping her chin in one hand, he drew her close. “Things happen. Your family is sufferin’. I don’t want to see you lose even more, and I’m afraid you will if you insist on plowin’ ahead with this plan. You’re puttin’ a lot on the line.”
“Yes. My home.” He winced and looked about as uncomfortable as she’d ever seen him. “Cole?”
And she knew. Somehow he’d found out she’d put up her land as collateral. She felt the blood drain from her lips, her face. “Richard told you?”
He shook his head.
“But you know.” It wasn’t a question. The answer was written all over his face. “How?”
He lifted his head, his gold-shot hazel eyes meeting hers. “Does it matter?”
“Yes.” Her fists clenched. “Yes, it does. I’ve been betrayed.”
“Jenni Beth.”
His hands reached out to her, but she drew back. “Don’t touch me. I should have known. Small town. Everybody knows everybody else’s business. Nothing is private.”
“That’s not always a bad thing.”
“It’s my bottomland to do with what I want.”
“I won’t argue that, but you can be very sure Richard is up to no good.”
She shook her head. “He’s a businessman. He needs collateral.”
“Bullshit.” He tossed the notebook he’d scooped up onto the bed. “On a purely business basis, no emotion or nostalgia involved, what you’ve given him here is enough for the loan.”
“But it isn’t enough for you.”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “This project is a mammoth undertaking. You have no safety net, sugar. Your mom and dad—” He threw up his hands. “I love them, but you can’t count on them for any real help.”
“Understood.”
“I wonder.” He studied her until she broke eye contact, toyed with a loose thread on those damned short shorts.
“There’s no sense arguing about this, Cole. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it work. If that means risking the land, then so be it.”
He started to interrupt, but she held up a finger. “Here’s the thing, though, and you need to understand this. I don’t intend to lose either my home or my land.” She picked up her binder and shook it. “I will make this work. Come hell or high water, Magnolia House will shine again. Brides will come here from all over for their special day. And I’m fully prepared to make sure it’s everything they’ve dreamed of. The hotels and restaurants in town will boom again. The shops can stay open. Misty Bottoms will be more than a spot on the map.”
“Fine.” He set his jaw. “I’m helpin’.”
Before she could even think about arguing, he silenced her with a finger to those pouty lips. “Don’t say anything you’ll regret later.”
* * *
He could almost see the wheels turning inside her head, practically saw the smoke they generated.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Excuse me?” His forehead creased.
“You heard me. What do you want? There has to be something in this for you.”
“Oh for…” He stood and walked to the window, steadied himself. When he turned back, she stood quietly beside the bed. “You’re enough to try the patience of a saint.”
“Which we both know you most certainly aren’t.”
He splayed his hands on his hips. “Why can’t I simply do it because I want to? Because I want to help your family?”
“Uh-uh. I’ve known you too long, Cole.”
“Again, I wonder,” he said. “Maybe you’ve never really known me.”
Confusion flickered in her eyes.
“Okay. Here’s the deal, sugar. I’m not puttin’ any money on the table. Not a single cent. That you’re gonna have to work out.”
She nodded.
“I will, however, offer gallons of sweat equity and toss my vast knowledge at your feet.”
Her eyes rolled, and he laughed.
“Seriously, I’m willin’ to work like a dog when I can. I do have a business to run, though, so…”
“Yes, you do.”
“And I do know a lot about old houses.”
“No argument there. No doubt as you’re ripping them apart, plank by plank, you get to know them on a very intimate basis.”
He decided to ignore that.
“The only thing I’ll ask of you in return is that if”—he held up a finger—“if your plan fails, I have first option to buy Magnolia House to do with as I choose. No questions, no whinin’.”
“Even if my plan fails, I might not want to sell the house.”
He shook his head. “You’re not being realistic—or your heart is denying what your brain already understands. You and I both know this is a do-or-die situation, sweetheart. If you jump off this cliff, if you sign those papers at Coastal Plains Savings and Trust, there’s no goin’ back. If your plan fails, you won’t be able to afford to keep this place.”
She paled and dropped back down onto the bed.
He took a step toward her, but she held up her hand, palm out. “Don’t. I’m fine.”
That sweet little tongue flicked out, traveled over her lips, and he nearly groaned. He fought to keep his head out of that bed and on business.
“Jenni Beth, have you honestly not considered this aspect of the deal? Not thought about the consequences if it doesn’t go your way?”
She met his eyes, and he imagined he could see worlds in them. “You’re right. Of course you are, and of course I’ve thought about it.”
Still, she hesitated.
“Jenni Beth?”
“My parents—”
She looked so fragile. So ethereal. Sunlight danced through a window and turned all that golden hair into a halo. He fisted his hands at his side to keep from touching her.
“You have to promise not to tear the house down. No matter what happens.”
Since he’d never intended to do that, he agreed. “You’ve got my word.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“If you do—”
“I won’t.”
Long minutes passed. She didn’t move, didn’t speak.
He waited. Watched as the second hand on her bedside clock swept over the twelve, once, twice.
Finally, she stood again and thrust a hand toward him. “Deal.”
He wrapped her hand in his. It felt so small, way too small to handle such a big undertaking. But she’d agreed to let him help. It didn’t mean they wouldn’t fight every step of the way, but it was a beginning.
Had his offer set wheels in motion that would help…or hurt her? He didn’t know. He did know, though, that he needed to leave. The house, the memories. He felt the walls closing in.
The atmosphere inside Magnolia House reminded him of a funereal drape, one that threatened to suffocate everyone inside it. He didn’t know how Jenni Beth could stand this day after day after day.
Her parents? Shells of themselves. Living dead. Neither seemed to care about the house, their finances, or the child they still had.
The house, the finances? Whatever. Their loss.
Jenni Beth? She ripped at his heart. She’d not only lost her brother, but, in a very real sense, had been abandoned by her parents. She’d quit her job in Savannah—her extremely lucrative job—to return h
ome. Why? To save her parents. Her heritage. Hell, her town.
Pretty damn big responsibility to dump on such frail shoulders.
And Richard Thorndike stood in the wings, rubbing his hands in gleeful anticipation of her failure.
He tamped down the growl that rumbled in his throat and held out a hand. “Should be a real pleasure workin’ with you, sugar. I’ll be in touch.”
The misery on her face nearly undid him. Without another word, he loped down the stairs and tossed a good-bye to Charlotte over his shoulder. The screen door slapped shut behind him.
A few miles from the house, Cole still struggled with his temper, but he knew he had to set it aside. His strategy? Stay low key and on the sidelines for now.
It would be best for all concerned if Thorndike didn’t know she had help. The bastard intended to take advantage of her. Well, Cole would let him continue on with that illusion, at least until the ink was dry on the loan papers.
Then all bets were off. Cole was prepared to do whatever necessary to see Jenni Beth’s project to the finish line.
And he refused to think too hard on why that was.
Magnolia House as a wedding venue might or might not be a losing proposition. That outcome was still up in the air. His feelings for Jenni Beth? Nothing would come from them.
Odds were stacked against him on that one.
Chapter 7
Had she made a deal with the devil?
Jenni Beth leaned forward in the porch swing, elbows propped on her knees, and massaged her temples, hoping to ward off the brewing headache.
So much depended on this project. She’d come back to Misty Bottoms brimming with confidence. Now she felt like a week-old helium balloon. The oomph had leaked out of her, her enthusiasm drained.
This place was a mess! When she saw it through an outsider’s eyes, the enormity of what she planned to undertake hit her hard.
Except Cole Bryson wasn’t really an outsider, was he? He’d been part of their family since he and Wes met the first day of kindergarten. Yet she sure as heck didn’t feel brotherly toward him. The man did things to her insides. Things she couldn’t control. When those brown eyes of his stared into her own, she couldn’t quite catch her breath.
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