by Tricia Jones
Chloe snapped her mouth shut. She wanted to grumble that Nathan probably had some ulterior motive, but that wasn’t fair. When he’d first suggested buying her neighbour’s cottage, Chloe remembered telling him that Mrs. Rawlins probably wouldn’t leave her beloved garden and that she didn’t think her neighbour had enough money to purchase one of the luxury apartments on the harbour.
Not that it would have worried him, she reminded herself sharply. It wouldn’t have stopped him from going after what he wanted. Back then he’d wanted the row of cottages so he could demolish them and build his hotel. At any price.
Chloe bit her lip. She hadn’t told Mrs. Rawlins about Nathan’s plans for the land, because she hadn’t wanted to upset her, which was just as well. Those plans had been quashed by Chloe’s refusal to sell.
There’d been no inkling of any compulsory purchase order on the cottage, and even if there were, Chloe remained adamant she would fight it.
God, she would fight. Tooth and nail.
Chapter Ten
With her thoughts focused on heading out to the DIY superstore, Chloe finished her usual Saturday morning breakfast of croissants and a pot of rich black coffee.
She intended to spend the rest of the weekend at the new premises, finishing off the internal decoration with the intention of putting it up for sale. Without the sole agency contract, it was pointless to plough any more money into the place, and last night she had stayed up into the early hours, juggling her accounts to see how long she could hold out. If the place didn’t sell in a few weeks, she’d have no option but to put it up for auction.
She didn’t care anymore as long as she could keep her cottage and her business. She’d be right back at square one. Which was okay. She’d been happy enough there once and she would be again.
She tipped back the last of her coffee and perused the walls of her kitchen, thinking maybe she’d pick up some colour charts at the superstore.
Her home was more than stone and tile, more than a roof over her head. It was her past, her roots, her memories. At least she could thank Nathan for making her realise that before it was too late.
She wandered out to the garden. There was a small quarry-tiled area just to the side that would take a little garden table and some chairs. Perhaps she could invite some people for drinks one evening, even have a barbeque.
When a knock sounded at the front door, Chloe expected it to be Mrs. Rawlins with a note of the items she wanted from the store. She headed down the hall, tucking her white blouse into her jeans as she went.
Her gasp was audible, much to her consternation, and Nathan responded with a tightening of his jaw. “Morning.” He held a large white envelope rolled into a funnel, tapping it in a slow, menacing beat against his palm. “I’d like to come in.”
Before she could respond, tell him to get lost, he’d stepped into the hall and pushed the door shut. Chloe edged back against the wall, willing her little hall to expand as his scent overpowered her, heightening the claustrophobic space with a curious sexual charge. How could he make her feel like this, respond like this? How could she allow him to?
A man on a mission, he strode down the hall, dumping the envelope on the kitchen table. He turned to Chloe. “Read it.”
Chloe looked at the envelope, her tummy plummeting. “What is it?” She knew, of course. A copy of the compulsory purchase order. He’d come to throw it in her face, retribution for her having dared challenge him.
“Read it,” he repeated, hooking his thumbs into the front pockets of tailored blue jeans. Beneath the black leather jacket, a dark blue shirt opened at the neck to reveal a tempting swatch of wispy dark hair, and she drew in a breath, remembering its silky texture. His hair, with those sexy strands that dropped on his forehead, had been ruffled by the breeze, reminding her of other activities that could mess it up so tantalizingly. Her treacherous fingers trembled and tingled.
She folded her arms across her chest, trapping those betraying hands. “I’ve no interest in it, whatever it is.” And she lifted her chin too, for effect.
His jaw clenched and a sharp vertical line appeared between his brows. Chloe could see the temper smoldering beneath his contained and polished demeanor—and she took grim satisfaction in being its cause. She wanted to make him react, to make him feel. Really feel. She wanted him to know some of the hurt he had caused her. Part of her wanted to see him lose control. And she knew enough about Nathan Fitzgerald to realise that he was a man who needed to control, a man who revelled in his power, his ability to command respect. Threaten any of that and you could expect a reaction.
Yet all she got was a stern-faced expression and a long-suffering sigh, which had temper pumping in her own chest. “Like I said, I’ve no interest in anything of yours. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot to do today.”
About to turn toward the narrow hallway, Chloe was only slightly aware of the flurry of movement when Nathan caught her wrist and yanked her around to face him. He’d snapped up the envelope and now thrust it at her chest. “Read the damn thing!”
Satisfied with some reaction at last, she made to snap back—but she saw something in the savage flash of his eyes that she had never seen before. Frustration? No. It was more than that. Vulnerability? Possibly. Although it was so out of character she had to have imagined it.
Her heart tripped anyway.
Carefully, as if from a wounded and unpredictable animal, Chloe backed away. Her legs trembled as she opened the envelope and slid out two council letters stamped “copy”. She looked at Nathan, who gave another impatient nod.
She kept her expression impassive as her gaze flew over the contents. Then she swallowed and looked up. Nathan glared at her, his features set in a mask of accusation. No trace of the earlier emotion, whatever it was, remained. She stared back as her mind assimilated what she had read.
He nodded toward the letter again. “Check out the date.”
The letter was dated the day before the charity ball.
Reaction began its slow trail through her body as her mind fought to establish some order from the jumbled web of information. What did it all mean? The letter stated that permission to erect a hotel on the site of three demolished cottages was no longer required, and the request for such permission was hereby cancelled.
Chloe stared at the date again, then looked up at Nathan.
“Well?” he demanded, folding his arms across his chest. “What have you got to say?”
“This doesn’t mean anything.” But of course it did. It meant he wasn’t going to tear down her cottage. Wasn’t going to destroy her memories. Her roots. The sharp thrill of it swamped her, pushing heat into her system.
He had intended it once, she reminded herself, blanketing the warm glow of pleasure and the need to launch herself at him in a show of gratitude. Why should she be grateful? He’d pursued her knowing he intended to demolish the cottage, had even slept with her knowing it… No, he hadn’t actually. He’d cancelled the planning application before that. Just.
Still, he had lied to her by omission. “It doesn’t change anything,” she said miserably.
“Read the other one.”
The other letter confirmed receipt of a new planning application, dated the same day, to convert the site of the former Claybury Manor into a luxury hotel.
“I thought you were buying it as an investment.”
“I hope it will be.” He held her gaze for long moments, and without taking his eyes from hers, said, “I’d still like to purchase your cottage for employee rentals. I’ve already acquired the other two, so it makes sense.”
She slipped the letters back into the envelope. “I’ve decided not to sell, but don’t worry, it won’t make any difference to your plans to let the others.”
She handed him the envelope. For some strange reason she felt miserable, where just a few minutes ago she had been elated. She should have been jumping for joy that her beloved cottage was safe from the bulldozers, but instead there was just
this emptiness.
Nathan rolled the envelopes back into a funnel. “Don’t be a fool, Chloe.” His voice was soft. “You need to sell to keep your business afloat.”
“How do you know that?”
“Sums, Chloe, two and two.” He waited as she opened her mouth, closed it again. “I can get the paperwork through quickly. You’ll have the money in your bank account by the end of next week. You can finish the work on your new premises and be ready for the release of the first phase of the apartments.”
“I’ve withdrawn my tender.”
“We don’t seem to have received notice of that.” He took a step toward her. “For God’s sake, Chloe. However you feel about me, don’t sacrifice everything you’ve worked for.”
He made to move closer still, but Chloe held up a hand, warning him back. “My future doesn’t depend on the marina. I did okay before it came along and I’ll do okay now. I don’t need Poseidon Holdings to secure my success, and I don’t need you.”
“You’re about to be offered joint agency with Levermans.”
Slowly, Chloe looked up at him. “Don’t do that.” Her voice trembled, fuelled by the complexity of the emotions battling inside her. “Don’t think you can manipulate me. Whatever I achieve, I want it to be on my own merit, because I’ve proven myself and my abilities. I don’t want to be part of some offering meant to alleviate your guilt, something that’s meant to ease your conscience. Talking of manipulation, how did you manage to persuade your Board, Nathan? How did you get them to award me joint agency? Did you throw some tasty little morsel their way? Tit for tat, so to speak?”
Heat speared across his taut cheekbones. “I have no influence over the tender decision, nor will I be involved in the negotiations.” He spaced out each word as if holding each syllable in contempt. “In light of our relationship, I have withdrawn myself from proceedings and have apprised the Board of our brief involvement. The Board reached their decision to offer you joint agency on the strength of your last two years’ trading results, your extensive local knowledge and your projected business plan.” He moved inches in front of her with intimidating ease, and waited until she looked up at him. “For what it’s worth, my conscience is perfectly clear.”
Her mind was reeling, but despite everything he had told her, it was fixed only on one part of it. Their involvement…their brief involvement… The words spun around like a mantra. Brief involvement.
“I don’t want any special treatment.” Her voice trembled again.
“You’ve received none.” He slid his hands in his pockets but didn’t step back. He was so close Chloe could feel the warmth of his breath coasting over her flesh, could smell that distinctly masculine scent seeping into her soul.
It was madness feeling this way, wanting him so much. Hadn’t she learned anything from this whole experience? Apparently not, because she ached for his mouth on hers, longed for his arms to go around her.
“Let me help you, Chloe.”
Those words, soft and tender, were like a blast of cold air over her heating senses. How could he stand there, having broken her heart and destroyed all her plans, then pretend he cared?
“I don’t need your help. The cottage is not for sale, not to you and not to anyone.”
Straightening, Nathan stepped back. “Then be prepared to lose your business.” He stuffed the rolled up envelope into his jacket pocket. “I’d figured you for a savvy businesswoman, not someone who allows emotion to rule. You won’t get far that way.”
“I’ll get as far as I want to go.” She stormed down the hallway and yanked open the front door. “My way.”
But Nathan, still in the kitchen, pulled out a chair. “There are still some things we need to get straight.” Sitting, he stretched out long legs. “Your accusation, for one.”
Exasperated, Chloe slammed the front door shut and strode back to the kitchen. “What accusation? While I might accept what’s in those letters, it doesn’t change anything.”
“It changes everything. You owe me an apology.”
“What?” She dropped her hands onto her hips. “I don’t owe you anything.”
“You accused me of sleeping with you while I secretly plotted to tear down your cottage. You insinuated that I seduced you to help seal the deal. Had that been the case, it makes me out as some ruthless bastard who cares little about who gets hurt as long as I get what I want.” He patted his jacket pocket as if to exonerate himself. “Like I said, I deserve an apology.”
He settled back in the chair, folded his arms. Waited.
“You could have told me.” She hated that her throat caught.
“I could have, yes. It seemed pointless, however. By the time we spent the night together I’d already discovered another, better, location for the marina hotel. There seemed little to be gained by giving you chapter and verse, and as the cottages were to be used as employee rentals, I decided it was basically—”
“None of my business?”
“If you like. I won’t apologise for making the best business decisions for my company, Chloe. I will apologise for having hurt you, albeit unintentionally.”
The cold, brusque delivery nullified the effect his words should have had. He really didn’t see there was a problem. Didn’t understand how he had ruined everything by lying to her, even by omission.
It was her own fault. She should never have gotten involved with him. She’d warned herself enough, yet she had still gone in with both eyes open. As much as she’d like to deny it, she had gone against her every instinct—and look where it had gotten her.
She took a deep breath. “I accept your apology.”
He was out of the chair in a flash, the tension draining from his features as he moved toward her. “Chloe…” He caught her arms, tightening his grip when she moved back.
“I accept your apology,” she repeated firmly, her arms stiff by her sides. “Like you, I intend to make the best business decision for my company. Part of that decision is to accept the joint agency and to keep my cottage. I don’t know how I’ll do it all, exactly, but I want to assure you and Poseidon Holdings that I don’t intend to fail.”
“I know you won’t fail.”
He said it with such conviction that she wanted to sob for the loss of what they could have shared, everything they could have been together. The future they might have had.
She banked down the knowledge that he believed in her—what she was learning to do was believe in herself. Trust herself. She wondered if she could maybe rent out the cottage or the flat above the new shop. The rental income would go some way toward helping her finances until she was up and running.
All she had to do now was keep a clear head and move on. From him.
“As for anything else—” she kept her eyes on his and willed away the stinging sensation behind her lids, “—as you said yourself, it was a brief involvement. Now I want you to go, and I don’t want you coming back.” For the second time, she hurried to the door and yanked it open.
Nathan moved past her but hovered at the threshold. “Why are you so determined to make me the bad guy, Chloe? Does it make you feel safe? By making me wrong, you don’t have to deal with me, you don’t have to deal with us. Is that it?” When she didn’t answer, he skimmed his thumb over her chin. “You won’t find all the answers in a business plan.”
He angled his hand to cradle her jaw. “Goodbye, Chloe.”
Then he dropped a kiss, achingly tender, on her lips. And left.
Chapter Eleven
Chloe wasn’t sure how much Beth Fitzgerald knew of her relationship with Nathan, but however much it was, Beth certainly didn’t let it affect their business relationship. In the three weeks since Nathan left and Beth had taken over, the two women had met twice for lunch to discuss the joint agency. On both occasions a representative from Levermans, the other half of the joint agency partnership, had been present, but now as Chloe faced Beth across the table at the Yacht Club restaurant, she had the distinct impressi
on that Beth hadn’t invited her to lunch to discuss business.
Her instincts were spot on. “I spoke to Nathan this morning and he asked me to give you his best wishes.” Beth poured them both mineral water, watching Chloe as she did so. Then she sat back with a satisfied look. “Ah, I see I haven’t lost my touch.”
“Your touch?” Chloe made a grab for her water, fearing her heart might fly out of her chest. Why did even the sound of his name cause her throat to restrict and her insides to launch into a rollercoaster ride? Surely after three weeks she should be able to think about something other than him? There were no signs of it yet, no matter how desperately she wanted it. She’d accepted just about every invite that had come her way these past weeks. Had attended dinner parties, informal lunches, the odd drink with people after work. Slowly she was building friendships, and it felt wonderful.
There was just this empty ache inside her that wouldn’t go away.
Beth spun a finger around the rim of her glass. “I pride myself on knowing my brother, despite his feeble attempts to hide his feelings from me. I just knew there was something going on, or someone. Now that I’ve seen the same misery on your face that he has on his, let’s just say my pride remains intact.”
“While his doesn’t.” Chloe took another sip of water, her throat still painfully dry. “That’s the misery you see in him.” She felt bound to explain, seeing Beth’s puzzled look. “I hurt his pride, that’s all.”
“You rejected his advances?” The puzzled look changed to wicked amusement. “My, my, that’s a first. No wonder big brother’s chin is dragging the floor.”
