“Owen,” she sighed as the man rose and she recognized his silhouette. She stopped, unsure whether he would acknowledge her, but he smiled and walked toward her. She noticed that he had changed into casual clothes, not that they lessened the sense of power that always seemed to surround him.
“Maggie,” he said with a dip of his head as he sidled up to her. “You’re up late.”
“You too.” She started walking again, alternately worried and excited that he would join her for her walk.
“Too many thoughts in my head.” He matched his pace to hers, taking an occasional puff on his cigar as they strolled down the beach.
“Me too,” she said, but then they fell silent. They had known each other all their lives and had been friends at one time, but in recent years, they’d kept an awkward distance. Even with the silence, there was something comforting about his presence beside her during the walk. Maybe it was that aura of innate strength and assurance in the way he carried himself. Maybe it was that she felt not so lonely with him. Regardless of the why of it, the quiet as they walked side by side along the beach soothed the riot of thoughts that had kept her from sleep.
With a half glance in his direction, she noticed that he seemed more relaxed as well, and a part of her wondered what it would be like if they could be more than just distant acquaintances. Deciding to breach that distance, she said, “Will you be at the lighthouse rededication at the end of the month?”
She and Owen had worked on their town’s committee to repair the destruction done by Hurricane Sandy years earlier. Federal and state funding had helped to rebuild most of the public areas, like the boardwalk. Their fundraising efforts had gone toward fixing the damage to the Main Street business area in time for the first summer season after the horrific storm, but it had taken much longer to raise the funds to fix the lighthouse and a nearby pier. The committee was still working on how to help repair the many private homes and cottages not covered by insurance and that still languished years later.
“I hope to be there. It all depends on some business items that need to be wrapped up.” He paused as they neared the long rock jetty that marked the end of Sea Kiss and the start of the next town. She hadn’t realized that they’d walked nearly a mile together in companionable silence. With a wry smile and a wave of his hand, they turned and started the walk back up the beach. Every now and again, he would meet her gaze and hold it, almost as if to reassure himself she was still there.
“Is that what kept you from sleep?”
“Possibly. What about you? Will you be there? Seems like we should attend, considering how much time we put into the committee.”
“I’ve got some things I need to do as well, but it would be nice to be there to celebrate. It took so long to reach this point.”
“But we did it. The town was ready for the first season. We helped a lot of people get back into their homes, even if we still have a long way to go to set everything right.”
“You led most of that, Owen. I was hard-pressed to know one end of the hammer from the other,” she said with a laugh, recalling her tortured efforts when they had volunteered to do some construction work on one of the damaged homes.
Owen chuckled. With a sexy grin, he said, “You did okay, and more importantly, you were there to help. People appreciated that, and they won’t forget it anytime soon.”
“That’s not why I did it,” she said.
He nodded. “I know.”
His easy reply and the warmth of his gaze confirmed that he understood what had motivated her to volunteer, and in truth, she’d always known that he’d helped for the same reason. They both loved Sea Kiss and considered it home, even though they both worked and had residences in New York City.
They fell quiet again until they reached the boardwalk for the Pierce mansion. Maggie waited for him to head there, but Owen kept on walking beside her.
“No need for you to see me home,” she said.
He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I always see a lady home,” he replied and did just that, going so far as to walk her up the boardwalk and across the great lawn. When they reached the patio, he looked back toward the dunes and jerked his head in the direction of the corner of the lot.
“I see you rebuilt the gazebo that Sandy took out.”
“I couldn’t imagine not putting it back up.” When the storm surge had gouged away huge pieces of the protective dunes behind the house, it had swept the old boardwalk and gazebo out to sea.
“You always spent a lot of time there reading,” he said, surprising her.
“I didn’t realize you’d noticed,” she replied, but as she glanced toward the Pierce mansion, she recalled that he would often sit on the second-story balcony where he would have a clear view of the gazebo.
“I’ve noticed a lot about you, Maggie,” he said and then walked with her again until they reached the french doors to her home.
Maggie faced him and stood there awkwardly, wondering how to end the night. A handshake was way too formal given the situation. A hug way too friendly. A kiss was…unfathomable.
That Owen was feeling the same way was obvious as he rocked back and forth on his heels and then shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. With a very masculine head nod, he said, “I guess I’ll see you around.”
She dipped her head in agreement and said, “See you around.”
He forced a smile, pivoted on his heel, and walked away, but as he did so, she called out to him.
“Owen.”
Turning, he stared at her, a perplexed look on his face.
“This was nice. Thank you.”
His smile was brilliant in the dark of the night. “It was nice. Get some sleep, Maggie.”
“You too, Owen.” As she headed through the french doors and up to her bedroom, she suspected her thoughts would once again keep her from a restful slumber. Only this time, those thoughts wouldn’t be about her family’s business problems and losing the home she loved. They would be about something much more pleasurable.
* * *
Maggie Sinclair had been on Owen’s mind a lot in the weeks since the wedding and their unexpected, enjoyable walk along the beach. He had been looking forward to seeing her at the lighthouse rededication this past weekend, only he hadn’t been able to make it due to a surprise strike at one of the Pierce company’s construction sites.
Owen had just settled that issue after a meeting at the union’s offices, and the summer day was too nice not to take the time for the crosstown walk to his office. As he strolled up Fifth Avenue, it occurred to him that he would walk right past Maxwell’s, the Sinclair family store, and he did need a birthday gift for his administrative assistant.
It was a long shot that he’d run into Maggie there, but he was willing to take the risk.
He rushed past the smaller retail stores and restaurants on Fifth Avenue in the Twenties but slowed as he neared the Empire State Building and the Maxwell’s store diagonally opposite the New York City landmark. As he stood on the corner, he appreciated the elegant look of the big, shiny windows with their displays and the graceful blue awnings above them. The navy blue was as true as it had been years earlier. At each entrance, a uniformed doorman in Maxwell blue and gold greeted shoppers and assisted them with hailing taxis and managing their bigger packages.
The building itself looked like it had been recently cleaned, the stone a pale gray that shone in the bright summer sun. Planters with flowers in a riot of colors were placed at various spots all around the building, which stood tall against most of its neighbors.
Prime real estate, he thought, although he knew that for Maggie and her family, Maxwell’s was way more than that.
He crossed the street, nodded at the doorman, and pushed through the entrance and onto the main floor. He paused there for a moment as he was transported back in time. Suddenly, he was eight again, an
d he and his brother were in the store with their mother to visit Santa. It had been one of the last times with his mother before she left them, never to return. It wasn’t difficult to picture the store as it had been back then, all done up for the holidays. He remembered seeing Maggie there with her mother during that visit, waiting in line like everyone else for her turn at Santa. She’d peeked around her mother’s skirts and waved at him, a friendly smile on her face. Even at eight, her smile and bright blue-eyes had made his heart beat a little faster.
Christmas was still months away, however, and the store was bedecked in flowers and bright colors in honor of the summer season. While the decor might be lively, the activity on the main floor was nothing like it had been twenty years earlier during the holiday season. Far fewer patrons were strolling through the aisles, but Maxwell’s still gleamed.
Ambling through the store, he peered at one display case after another, telling himself it was because he was in search of his assistant’s gift and not because he was hoping to see Maggie. Luck wasn’t on his side as he finished perusing the various items in the first aisle and doubled back along the second where some scarves caught his attention.
He was fingering one lightweight scarf, considering whether his assistant would like it, when, from the corner of his eye, he saw Maggie coming down the aisle with an older woman. Maggie was clearly in work mode, the sleeves of her pristine white shirt tidily rolled up and her hair done in some kind of fancy braid. Wisps of hair had escaped confinement and curled around her face, highlighting eyes the color of the ocean by Sea Kiss and the creamy skin along the straight line of her jaw.
Maggie walked behind the counter, moved some of the items on the display, and spoke to the woman, earning a smile and a nod. She grinned at the woman and turned to walk away when she noticed him. Her smile dimmed, and the happy look on her face turned to one of puzzlement. She strode toward him, her movements brisk, efficient, and totally businesslike, and yet no less enticing. She stopped a foot away from him and, with a slow nod, said, “Owen. It’s a surprise to see you here.”
“Because of the feud?” he asked. He shifted his gaze back to the scarf, because the sight of her beautiful face was just too distracting.
“In the women’s section,” she clarified. “I didn’t realize you were seeing someone,” she replied but then murmured a sharp curse beneath her breath as a becoming stain of color blossomed on her cheeks.
He was secretly pleased she might be keeping track of whether he was involved, not that he was. In fact, being a type A workaholic, he hadn’t been involved in some time. He couldn’t resist teasing her and said, “Actually, we see each other almost every day, and I can’t imagine not having her in my life.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” she said.
It pleased him even more that he detected a hint of disappointment in her tone. Despite that, he couldn’t keep up the deception. “She’s my administrative assistant and a very lovely lady. Her birthday is coming up, and I wanted to get her a gift, but I’m not sure this is right.”
Maggie blew out an obvious sigh of relief and skimmed her hand along the scarf he had been examining. “This is nice for an older woman, but if she’s younger—”
“She’s a grandmother but quite a fashionista.”
With a nod, Maggie picked through the other scarves and pulled out one in a light-taupe color with alternating bars of metallic gold and navy blue. She handed it to him, and their hands brushed, causing her to jump back a bit.
Stammering, she looked down and said, “It’s raw silk, and the fabric and colors will work well with either a suit or jeans.”
He placed his thumb under her chin and applied gentle pressure to urge her gaze upward. “It’s lovely. Thank you,” he said. When she locked her gaze with his, he hoped it was clear he was referring to something other than the scarf.
“You’re welcome. If you don’t mind, I have to finish my walk-through,” she said and pointed toward the far side of the floor.
“Not at all,” he said and held out his hand for a handshake.
She looked at it and then back up at him before finally placing her hand in his. As he closed his fingers around hers and held her hand for way too long, he decided to take another gamble. He leaned forward, brushed a fleeting kiss across her cheek, and whispered, “It was nice to see you again, Maggie.”
Before she could respond or he totally embarrassed himself, he hurried away, smiling, pleased both with the gift and with himself. He might work way too much and his father might have a ridiculous hatred of the Sinclairs, but he didn’t have to be shaped from the same mold. Especially when the reward was a possible relationship with Maggie.
Chapter 3
Maggie always enjoyed the peacefulness of early morning in her mother’s old office in the Chrysler Building, now her main workplace. Her father hadn’t changed a thing since her mother’s death over twenty years earlier, which made it easy for Maggie to remember how she’d come and visited her mom as a child. She would play on the mahogany coffee table in front of the silk-upholstered settee while her mother sat across the way, working at her Victorian pedestal desk.
She could feel her mom’s presence here as well as at their Sea Kiss home and the store. It was why she would do almost anything to keep from losing them. Even though her mother had been gone from Maggie’s life for more years than she’d been in it, she knew that her mother would have wanted her to fight to keep the business alive and to safeguard the jobs of the many employees who had been loyal to them for years. Plus, she had her own dream to put her stamp on the upscale stores her mother’s family had founded nearly a century ago.
A job made harder by the fact that her father not only hadn’t changed a thing in the office, but he also refused to consider modifying any aspect of how the stores operated.
With a heartfelt sigh, Maggie rose from her mother’s desk and walked to the windows. From their location fifty-some floors up, she could see all the way downtown to the new World Trade Center and the Verrazano Bridge at the mouth of the harbor. The eastern-facing windows brought a view of the United Nations and, stretching beyond that, Queens and Long Island. From her father’s office on the opposite side of the floor, the vistas of the New Jersey Palisades and Hudson River were equally spectacular.
Prime real estate, her father would say, and if there was one thing her father knew about, it was real estate. His wedding gift to his new bride had been six fabulous locations in upcoming suburban areas that his wife had used to expand the reach of her family’s signature Fifth Avenue department store. That real estate was one of the few things left to bargain with to help keep the stores afloat and to help her make the modifications necessary to compete in a world filled with cheap fast-fashion establishments, big-box stores, and the internet.
Returning to her desk, she sat down and opened the file folder with the earnings report that had been unofficially released, probably by a disgruntled board member and minority shareholder. As a closely held corporation where she and her father owned over fifty percent of the shares, they had far fewer reporting regulations to worry about, but they still had to have audits and reports on their financial status. She had gotten a tip from a friendly reporter that the information would be made public later that morning.
Her stomach clenched at the sight of the losses stemming from the retail division. The numbers had caused her many a sleepless night the last few weeks. Especially since she had mortgaged the family’s Jersey Shore mansion for money to keep the stores running for the next few months. She was already in talks with another bank for a loan against the New York City town house she’d also inherited and lived in when she wasn’t in Sea Kiss. If she couldn’t turn the stores around…
For months, the other half dozen or so shareholders had been pressing for them to close the retail division, add the valuable properties to their real estate holdings, and focus solely on the real estate divi
sion in order to cut their losses. But Maggie was determined to save that part of the company for her mother, herself, and their many employees.
Closing the folder, she opened a bottom drawer in the pedestal desk and took out another portfolio, thicker by far than the earnings report. Flipping open the file, she skimmed through her notes and the collection of photos and rough designs she’d sketched to transform their signature Fifth Avenue store.
Little by little, a smile crept onto her face as she ran through her idea file and sipped the latte she had picked up on her way to the office. By the time she flipped the last sheet of paper, her latte was done, and the first sounds of activity were filtering in from the outside work space.
A knock at the door had her collecting her papers and closing the file before she called out, “Come in.”
Her administrative assistant entered, a wary smile on her face and another cup of coffee in her hand, because she knew Maggie fueled her mornings with nonstop doses of caffeine.
“Good morning?” her assistant said with some trepidation, aware of what would happen that day.
Maggie smiled and accepted the large mug the young woman offered her. “You’re a godsend, Sheila, and yes, it’s a good morning for now.”
She checked her watch. The morning business shows would soon be turning their attention to various earnings reports, and she had no doubt that the Sinclair Corporation would be a topic of discussion. Whoever had released the report without authorization had likely done so to publicly embarrass her father in the hopes of getting him to take some kind of action regarding the stores.
“Do we have to worry, Maggie?” Sheila asked while wringing her hands.
Her assistant was a single mom, loyal, smart, and highly responsible. It was why Maggie had chosen her for the job as her right-hand woman. She wouldn’t violate Sheila’s trust by sugarcoating what was happening. If they had to sell the stores to pay off the debt they had accumulated, many people would lose their jobs, including those in the office area, since they wouldn’t need as much staff to run only the real estate division.
One Summer Night Page 2
