With a practiced motion, he lifted the mop, wrung it out, then got to work. “You won’t be sorry.”
While he worked, she focused on wiping down the counters. She had to direct her energies elsewhere or else she’d be captured by the movement of the corded muscles in his arms and his chest as he pushed the mop from side to side across the tile floor. “Did you grow up around here?” she asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over the kitchen. Or had his family flown him in to work at the popular summer vacation spot in the Olympic National Park?
“I was born in Seattle. I lived here with my parents until they died in a boating accident. Uncle Vernon took me in after that.”
At the strained tone of his voice, a shiver worked its way down her spine. They shared a common background. They’d both been orphaned, or as good as in her case. Their eyes met. In his eyes she saw not only a bold and incisive man, but a kind and gentle one as well. She was quite certain in that moment that this was the real Blake Bancroft, not the callous billionaire who was determined to take the Bancroft Hotel away from her.
But did it matter who he truly was? Warm and friendly or cold and calculating, he wanted what she had and would most likely do anything in his power to get it. “Vern raised you?”
He moved to the corner of the room, then dipped the mop in the bucket again and squeezed it out before moving it across the tiled floor in a methodical, steady pattern. “I was eighteen when they died, so I only lived with Uncle Vernon for two weeks until he sent me off to boarding school for my senior year and then to college.”
She gazed at him thoughtfully. Again, she didn’t miss the similarity. They’d each been abandoned by the adults in their lives and forced to be on their own early in life. Even so, they’d come from entirely different backgrounds. He grew up in a mansion, most likely attended the finest schools and socialized with the best of society, and, even after his parents’ deaths, he’d been educated at Harvard, then Stanford, she’d learned from her Google search earlier in the day.
She, on the other hand, had lived in a run-down trailer park on the wrong side of the tracks. Her education had been in cooking schools through scholarship programs. Felicity stiffened. Was she trying to justify why she deserved what Vern had left her more than Blake did? The thought made her feel a little sick. She wasn’t usually a selfish person, and she didn’t like the thought that she was becoming just that now. With a silent groan, Felicity turned away and busied herself checking to make sure everything was stored in its proper place in the kitchen and all the appliances were turned off for the night.
Her mind drifted back to the handwritten note Vern had left her with his will. “Take care of the Bancroft, Felicity. You’ll know what to do.”
She shook her head dazedly. Vern couldn’t have been more wrong, because she had absolutely no idea what to do about the hotel, about Blake, about her crazy mixed-up feelings for him. One minute she was suspicious of him, the next she was intrigued.
Felicity wished desperately in that moment that she weren’t so exhausted. She had to think calmly and clearly about all of this. She wasn’t willing to just give over her interest in the hotel and restaurant just because Blake’s past wasn’t as perfect as she’d imagined it to be. Blake was still a stranger; his motives were obscure, and her own future was important.
She shifted her gaze to where Blake mopped on the opposite side of the kitchen. Watching him work, she wondered about the man who had suddenly entered her life and made her question things about herself she hadn’t had the time to think about in years.
Perhaps Blake’s idea to spend a day in each other’s worlds was exactly how they needed to solve the situation Vern had left them in. A whole day together could reveal a lot about each of them to the other. It was time to peel back the exterior and get a glimpse at his true depths.
CHAPTER FOUR
Felicity waited in the courtyard the following morning surrounded by darkness. The lighted portico allowed her to see through the glass doors into the lobby, so she’d know when Blake arrived. Until then, to calm her nerves she needed the gust of cool wind that touched her cheeks.
Her gaze lifted to the front of the hotel, to the patterned brickwork and rich, detailed facades of terra-cotta. Despite the beauty of the hotel’s Italianate style, a sense of loss moved through her. She missed Vern. She wished she’d known who he was before he died. The world had lost more than just an old man. It had lost a legend in the hotel industry. Blake was the continuation of that legacy. Not for the first time did she wonder if she was fighting a battle she ought not win.
“Morning.” A voice came from the doorway.
She turned to see Blake dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, with a leather coat folded over his arm. As he moved toward her, he put the coat on. Felicity couldn’t tear her gaze away. He looked just as at ease in a t-shirt as he did in a dress shirt. She swallowed against the sudden tightness in her throat.
“I suppose I should apologize for being late,” he said, taking her silence for displeasure.
She almost smiled at this new, more human, side of her nemesis. “I suppose you should.”
“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting,” he said, his tone sincere. “Shall we go?”
She could tell he was restless. Was he the typical Type-A CEO, or had he had a similar revelation to the one she’d had last night—that they shared a lot of the same pain and success? “Then let’s get started.” She turned to walk up the four stairs leading to the street.
He joined her but stopped at the street. “Where’s the car?”
“We’re walking.” She kept moving along Terry Avenue.
“Ten blocks?” He hurried to catch up with her.
She shrugged. “It’s all downhill.”
“Until we make our way back.”
Felicity tossed him an innocent smile as she kept her brisk pace. She needed the physical exertion to keep her mind on the goal of the day ahead and off of the man who was far too intriguing for her sanity. “If you’d rather stay at the hotel . . .”
“Lead on.” He matched his stride to hers. “Anything you can do, I can do, too.” At the crosswalk, he placed a hand on the small of her back, as though escorting her across the street. His touch was warm and inappropriately familiar.
She thought she saw the faintest glimmer of humor appear in his expression as they reached the other side of the street, and she wished she’d outpaced his touch—even though part of her responded to the idea that there was a measure of protection in the gesture.
Felicity could feel a flush come to her cheeks. At least she could blame her coloring on the coolness of the morning air and the briskness of their walking.
“This is nice,” he said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. “I usually spend my days going from the car to one meeting after another. It’s rare that I get to enjoy the outdoors.”
The city was just starting to wake. The streets were largely clear of traffic, and the sound of gulls searching for their morning meal among the fishermen could be heard over their footfalls on the concrete sidewalks. Still, the city wasn’t really the outdoors, at least not to most Seattleites. “Why did you move from Seattle to San Francisco?”
“I did my graduate studies at Stanford. And when I took over the company from Uncle Vernon, I decided to move the company headquarters there. What better state than California, with the strictest environmental regulations in the country, to establish a socially responsible green company. At least I’m used to the hills,” he said with a smile.
“In your car,” she replied, unable to keep the judgment from her voice. “I thought you said you were some kind of expert in living green?”
“Building green. And if you’re worried about me keeping up with you, don’t be. I’m in pretty good shape.”
She could see that. His arms, before he’d pulled on his coat, had been strong and muscular. But it was more than his physical looks that had her on edge. It was Blake’s energy. Vitality sim
mered within him. He’d challenged her from the moment they’d met—physically and mentally. She was certain he’d continue to do so until they parted ways.
Felicity turned her attention to the lavender and pink and scarlet sky. The clouds were thin in the early morning light. They would burn off soon, leaving a backdrop of jagged mountains and dazzling blue wrapped around the city skyline. The smell of salt water grew stronger with every step downhill. It had been a long time since she had walked with anyone down to the waterfront. Felicity had to admit Blake’s presence at her side was oddly companionable, despite her wish that it wasn’t.
“You don’t talk much,” Blake observed after ten minutes of silence.
“I didn’t know sparkling conversation was a part of our sharing the day together.” She closed her eyes briefly, trying to stop the pull she felt toward him. She couldn’t allow herself to have any feelings about a man who should be her enemy, even if he was the handsomest man who’d ever mopped her kitchen floor. She opened her eyes, and, despite her intentions not to, she looked at him.
He made a face. “Am I that hard to converse with?”
“Okay,” she relented. Giving in to her need to hear his rich, compelling voice, she searched for something safe to talk about. “How did you sleep last night?” Oh heavens, she sounded like his mother. “I’m sure it’s difficult sleeping in a strange bed.” That was better. At least now she sounded like a concerned hotel owner.
“The bed was very comfortable. I sleep in strange beds all the time.”
Felicity looked at him quizzically.
“It’s not what you’re thinking. I travel a lot.”
If she was thinking anything, it was that it must be sad not to have a place to call his own. She didn’t have much in the way of personal property or possessions, but she had people in her life who loved her. When she was with them, she knew she had everything she needed. Did anyone love Blake? Or was his relationship, or lack thereof, with Vern, an indication of how he managed his life? “That must make you miss your home,” she said, looking off into the distance.
“I live in San Francisco most of the year, but in and out of hotel rooms.” He shrugged. “It’s one of the prices I pay for being in the hotel industry.”
Felicity frowned. “I wouldn’t like that. I enjoy coming home to my own space.”
“How long have you lived in Seattle?” he asked.
“My whole life.”
“Have you ever wanted to travel and experience other things?” The animation had returned to his face.
She gazed into his mesmerizing blue eyes. “Right now that’s just not possible. My work is here. Everything I know and love is here.” Before he could ask her to expand on why it would be impossible to travel, she looked away and quickened her pace. She could feel Blake’s gaze on her still, but he didn’t pursue the subject. They both fell silent once more.
Felicity didn’t speak again until they reached the waterfront and a breathtaking view of water, sky, and mountains lay before them. “This way.” She pointed to the pier in front of them with several small fishing boats tied up nearby. The smell of the creosote-treated wooden pier mixed with the salty tang of the water to create a scent that was manifest in Seattle. She headed toward the edge of the pier where a group of men had their morning catch displayed on beds of ice.
“You buy your fish directly from the fishermen?” Blake asked, keeping pace with her as she weaved in and out of the crowd of fishermen and other chefs all hovering around the makeshift fish market. “I’m impressed.”
“It’s important to me to support the local economy.” She strode over to Jimmy Coon’s display. “Morning, Jimmy. What’ve you got for me today?”
“Only the best for you.” He gave her a toothy grin. He’d caught king salmon and true cod. “Want your usual order?”
Felicity picked up one of the salmon, checked the eyes, and gently squeezed the firm flesh before she brought the fish to her nose. “Perfect as always.” She nodded.
“I’ll have it delivered,” he said, and she moved past his display and farther down the line to Cal Jeffries, one of the younger fishermen on the docks.
“You don’t tote the seafood up the hills, back to the hotel?” Blake asked with a bemused grin.
“They deliver everything directly to my kitchen. No sense hauling around twenty pounds of fish with us, because after we are done here, we head to the market.” Felicity glanced over Cal’s bins of oysters, clams, and scallops as the shells glistened in the growing sunlight.
“Morning, Felicity,” Cal said. “It was a good harvest today. Can I offer you a taste?” He held out an oyster on the half shell to her. “It’s as fresh as they come.”
Felicity turned to Blake who stood right beside her. “Want to be my taster?”
He hesitated a moment, before he reached for the shell, brought the small oyster to his lips, and let it slide into his mouth, his gaze never leaving hers.
Felicity’s heart beat faster. She was unable to look away from his blue eyes. Her skin was warming as the blood ran faster in her veins.
She could smell a hint of wood and something deeper, muskier, in his cologne.
His pulse drummed in his temple as he slowly chewed, then swallowed. “I’ve never had oysters for breakfast, but this is perfect.” His gaze remained steady, drawing her closer. There was something starkly primitive about the two of them standing there, saying nothing and everything all at once.
He inhaled deeply, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her throat as he exhaled. Felicity’s heart raced, and she willed herself to look away.
Blake was her rival. She had to remember that. She took a step back, breaking the moment. “Give me five pounds of each, Cal.”
“No problem, Felicity,” Cal replied. “See you tomorrow.”
Felicity nodded and turned away, grateful she could draw a steady breath once more. “Are you ready for Pike Place Market?”
“Lead the way,” Blake replied.
Felicity headed along the waterfront. She loved walking along the pier, listening to the creak of the pilings as they shifted with each push of the tide. Salty air caressed her cheeks, tugged at her bangs and the short strands of her hair that framed her face. The dark green water stared back at her, rolling gently, lapping against the barnacle-studded pilings and coughing up foam. They walked in companionable silence until they reached Pike Street. For a moment she paused beside the bench she’d first come to as a young girl, sending her hopes and dreams out across the sparkling emerald water of the Puget Sound.
“Is anything wrong?” Blake asked at her side.
She shook her head, clearing the long-ago memories. “I like to come here to think.”
“What are you thinking about now?” he asked with a touch of concern she hadn’t expected.
She blew out a breath. “How is this going to work, Blake? How are we going to decide at the end of these two days who should get the hotel and restaurant? One of us has to be altruistic here. There are millions of dollars on the line. That kind of money might be easy for you to come by, but it’s more than I could ever expect to earn in my lifetime.”
“If it’s only about the money, we can make that decision right now. I’ll pay you one million dollars to release your claim on the Bancroft to me.”
A hysterical giggle bubbled up in her throat. She could buy a new restaurant with that kind of money. But what about the rest of her family—her dedicated employees? “It’s not just about the money. It’s about people. Lots and lots of people. Everyone who works at the Bancroft and the Dolce Vita, everyone who uses the services provided by both, all the people we engage as vendors, even the fishermen we just met. All of them will be affected by the hotel being out of business while you renovate. My God, Blake, people like your uncle live in that hotel. Where will they go?”
“There are other hotels.”
The sound of a gull squawking overhead seemed thunderous. “None of them is the Bancroft.”
“It is to me and so many others,” she said in a thick voice, her heart aching, because he refused to understand.
“So that’s a no to my offer?”
She looked out at the water, searching desperately for some sort of easy answer, finding nothing, she returned her gaze to his. “I need some time to think about what’s the right thing to do.”
“Do you always do the right thing?”
She forced her chin up a notch and squared her shoulders. “I’ll do whatever I have to in order to protect my workers. They are my family. Their lives matter to me as much as my own.”
“Very well, then let’s keep going. This is your day. Show me why you care so much about the people the hotel supports.”
She nodded, grateful to have something else to think about besides the man at her side. “I can do that. Come with me.” He followed her across the roadway to the sprawling hillside staircase. At the base, Felicity paused, preparing herself for the climb up the ten-story hill.
Blake stopped beside her, looking up. “Are you trying to intimidate me?”
“Is it working?” she asked.
“I’ll tell you after we reach the top.”
Side by side, they ascended the wide, concrete stairway already in use by early-rising visitors and locals. As they made their way to the market stalls above, Felicity took advantage of Blake’s attention. “Pike Place Market has been open since 1907. That same year the Bancroft opened its doors. The market is recognized as a historic site. It would be wonderful if the Bancroft had the same protection.”
Any humor in Blake’s face vanished. “I’m not opposed to preserving history, Felicity.”
She was about to say more when her cell phone chimed from where it was tucked into her coat pocket. “I have to take this,” she said, after looking at the screen and recognizing her father’s assisted living facility’s number. “Hello,” she greeted as they continued to climb.
“Felicity, this is Marguerite.” It was the nurse who usually worked with her father, but her voice sounded odd.
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