by J. L. Berg
My mouth searched for the words.
“We’re all passionate about this, but you’re”—she shrugged for a moment—“something else. Do you think it’s maybe not a why but a who?”
“What?” I exclaimed, completely taken aback. “You think I have the hots for her?”
Her eyebrow simply rose, as if that was enough of an answer.
“You’re insane,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re all fucking insane.”
But part of me knew they weren’t. As much as I was looking forward to besting Leilani, a small part of me—which seemed to double every time I saw her—was just glad I had a reason to seek her out.
To be around her.
And that part of my obsession had nothing to do with this town or the people in it. She was a risk I couldn’t afford, and I needed to keep my head in the game. I needed to stay focused.
So, I did the only thing I could think of.
It was stupid.
It was crazy.
And possibly life-threatening.
But it was necessary.
“Good morning,” Sierra yawned, stretching out next to me on the living room sofa.
I’d been awake for a while, staring up at the ceiling, berating myself for this latest mistake.
It wasn’t a mistake, I reminded myself.
It could have been a mistake.
I’d called her up late last night, knowing she’d come if I asked.
And sure enough, she did.
She’d barely made it through the door before we were hot and heavy on the couch. Her hands had found my belt buckle and that’s when I’d frozen.
Like a damn statue.
I’d thought that if I could keep my body was occupied elsewhere, my mind would be free to do what was necessary. And what was necessary was getting rid of Leilani.
But it turned out my mind and body were much more aligned than I realized.
“Hey,” I said, rising from the couch to put some much needed distance between us. After putting the breaks on heavy last night, I’d offered up an all night movie marathon, hoping to keep us occupied, and although she’d given me a suspicious gaze, she’d agreed.
And she kept her distance.
“Thanks for hanging out with me,” I said lamely. “But I need to head into work—”
Her eyes perked up, a glimmer of hope. “How about you go hop in the shower, and I’ll whip us up some—”
“No breakfast,” I said, stepping towards the stairs. Her face fell instantly. “The rules haven’t changed, Sierra.”
She studied the floor before searching for her purse. “No, I guess they haven’t.”
“I shouldn’t have called you last night,” I said softly.
“No,” she protested, turning away. “I was stupid to assume. Just, please keep calling, Taylor.” There was a distinct note of desperation in her tone.
“Why, Sierra? I can’t give you what you need. And I can’t keep seeing that haunted look of hurt in your eyes.”
She smiled, but it was a ghost of a smile, as if she were practicing something that had once been so natural. “You’re not the one who put the hurt in my eyes,” she answered. “But you help soothe it, even for a moment or two.”
I stepped forward and pulled her into my arms, her tears already falling onto my chest.
Nothing ever lasted.
Love always hurt.
For Sierra, it was a cheating boyfriend. My mother, a widow too young. Mrs. McKennon, a broken heart.
No, calling Sierra wasn’t a mistake. If anything, she was the best kind of medicine.
Because, if Millie and Dean were correct and I was indeed falling for Leilani Hart, seeing the pain and feeling Sierra’s tears stain my t-shirt were exactly what I needed.
If falling in love was a sickness, I’d just been immunized.
Getting off to a much later start than I liked, thanks to a few very chatty guests at breakfast this morning, my pace to the hotel was much quicker than normal.
And, today, I kept my eyes straight ahead.
With my six-week deadline, I did not have time for shirtless men on the marina.
No matter how hot they were.
It was a particularly hot day in September, the weather in this town fluctuating so much that I wasn’t sure what to wear at any given time, so by the time I made it to the hotel, I was sweating.
A lot.
I mentally gave myself a pat on the back for flipping on the air-conditioning units and thanked whoever had been genius enough in the past to actually install them.
Considering the state of the rest of the hotel, it was a small miracle.
As I closed the short distance to the door, my hand reaching out for the handle, all I could think about was cool air and having something cold to drink.
“You have mail, you know.”
The masculine voice stopped me in my tracks.
I didn’t even need to look to know who it belonged to.
I spun on my heels and looked to my left, and leaning on the same column with the same sexy smirk was Taylor Sutherland.
At least today, he’d bothered with a shirt.
A small part of me was actually a little miffed about that last part.
Okay, a large part.
If he was going to be here, back on my property, badgering me, I might as well have something nice to look at.
“What do you want, Taylor?” I asked, so hot that I felt like I might melt into a puddle right before his very eyes.
“You have mail,” he said once more, gesturing toward the big, worn mailbox at the corner of my parking lot.
“No, I don’t,” I replied. “I checked it yesterday. I might be new around here, but I know mail doesn’t come at”—I checked my watch on my right arm—“eight thirty in the morning.”
My words didn’t seem to faze him at all.
“Check it again,” he demanded.
The wicked smile on his face caused my belly to flip-flop. Why, I wasn’t sure. Maybe because I remembered how he’d looked without that T-shirt covering his torso. Or maybe because he seemed to know something I didn’t.
And that, I didn’t like.
So, I found myself marching toward the parking lot—not because he’d told me to, but because I couldn’t wait to wipe that smug, stupid smile right off his face.
That was, until I reached the mailbox.
And found a letter.
“Told you,” he whispered into my ear, sending chills down my spine.
I hadn’t even realized he’d followed me.
Or that he’d been standing so close.
I swallowed hard and stepped back, the smell of his woodsy aftershave still lingering around me like a warm cocoon.
Jesus, Lani, get it together.
Clearing my throat, I looked down at the envelope, a very official-looking address at the top.
“Business and Planning Committee?” I said out loud.
“Mmhmm.”
“Is this your doing?” I asked him as I began walking the short distance back toward the hotel. If there was bad news in here, I wanted to read it in the comfort of air-conditioning.
“No,” he answered. “Definitely not. But it does involve me. Would you just open it? Some of us have successful businesses to run.”
I stopped once we reached the door and gave him a pointed look. “Some of us?”
He looked up at the peeling paint and cobwebs that adorned the front entrance of mine. “Yeah.” He grinned. “Some.”
I didn’t bother hiding my frustration, a loud huff bubbling up from my lungs as I pried the door open and stormed inside.
Of course, he followed.
The instant temperature difference felt a little jarring but deliciously wonderful at the same time. I couldn’t help but let out a sigh.
“I thought you were from Hawaii,” he said.
“Yeah, so?”
“So, isn’t it just as hot and humid there? Isn’t hanging out at the beach like a p
rofession out there?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m not really a beach person. Or an outdoorsy person for that matter.”
His eyes widened, complete shock written across that handsome face of his. “You live in one of the most beautiful places in the world, and you don’t go outside?”
“I’m an interior designer,” I explained. “Since college, my world has been all about the inside. I guess I just lost interest.”
“So, you did love the outdoors then? At one time?”
I swallowed hard, remembering the smell of the ocean, the feel of the sand, and the sound of my mother’s laughter as she’d danced along the shoreline.
“Yeah,” I said. “At one time.”
A moment passed between us. Our eyes locked, and I felt something.
Something beyond heat and want.
Something more.
But, before it could become more, before I could identify it, he turned away.
“Are you going to open that letter or not?”
“Oh,” I said, feeling rather embarrassed. “Right. Of course.”
Without wasting another moment, I ripped open the envelope and pulled out the letter waiting inside.
Dear Ms. Hart,
The people of Ocracoke welcome you to our town. We are a small community with big hearts and a long line of traditions and values. We hope that as you move forward with your renovation of The Cozy Hotel, you’ll take into consideration those traditions and values, but we know that compromises will have to be made.
Like our town, our committee is a modest one with many busy individuals. Gathering us all together is a cumbersome task, and we want you to have a reliable source to contact when you have concerns and questions when it comes to the town and its inhabitants without having to go through an entire committee.
Well, that’s nice of them, I thought.
But then I remembered the man standing in my hotel, and the nerves woke back up.
We’ve appointed Taylor Sutherland for this task, and we believe he will serve as an excellent go-between for both you and the people of Ocracoke.
My eyes jerked up to find the man in question staring at me.
“This says you’re some sort of town liaison to me. That we’re supposed to—”
“Work together,” he said, finishing my sentence.
“No,” I said.
“I’m afraid so.” He simply shrugged.
My eyes narrowed as I watched him take an appraising look around the lobby. “Did they blackmail you or something?”
“What?” He turned to me, looking incredulous. “Why would you say that?”
“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, we don’t exactly get along, and this letter is all about making peace and crap.”
“Peace and crap?” His lip twitched.
“You know what I mean!”
“I don’t think I do.” He grinned. “Can you explain? ’Cause I want to make sure I get this down correctly for my official report.”
I groaned. “See? This! This is what I’m talking about. You infuriate me. I infuriate you. This is not how working relationships are formed. And I only have—”
“You only have what?”
I stopped short, unwilling to show my hand to the enemy. Because, no matter what they said, no matter how peaceful this town said they wanted to be, they would always be the enemy. I was the daughter of the devil after all.
“I don’t have time for this.”
“Well”—he raised his shoulder—“seems like you’re going to have to make time. You wouldn’t want the town officials thinking you’re not being agreeable, would you? I mean, that could be seen as an act of war…and that could definitely slow you down if we were to do something to cause a roadblock in your plans.”
Our eyes met with that struggle for power again, and finally, I gave in. “Fine,” I agreed. “But try to keep up.”
His brow rose, as if a challenge had been issued. “You first.”
I realized very quickly that Taylor was going to be a hands-on type of partner.
After several days, he’d managed to make his presence both known and heard, all while running his own business quite successfully. I knew the latter because I had a rather good view of it from pretty much every window in the hotel. And, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to stop myself from looking out each and every one of them whenever I got close, just to see if I could spot him.
I’d already memorized his weekly schedule, which basically consisted of office work, tours, and a lot of manual labor. Of course, he’d also squeezed in plenty of time for chatting it up with a few beautiful, young tourists.
Not that I cared.
On one particularly long day, I’d even snapped a photo of him and sent it to Piper just to prove that men in North Carolina were just as hot as the guys back home.
My eyes ventured to the window one more time.
Hotter even.
Thankfully, today, Taylor seemed to have a busy afternoon of eager tourists to entertain, which meant I was free to work. I had a pile of fabrics and tile samples that had just arrived, plus a few DIY projects I wanted to accomplish in one of the suites, and having someone looking over my shoulder would seriously delay my progress. My town go-between had been so involved and full of questions that I was seriously starting to wonder if I’d get anything done with him around.
That, of course, had me wondering.
What were Taylor Sutherland’s motives?
I might be new to this town and fresh out of the office, but even I knew, that no one did a one-eighty on their feelings that quickly. He’d hated me and my reasons for being here when I arrived. Why the sudden interest now?
Was he trying to impress someone—either the town committee or perhaps that older relative I had seen—or was he here to sabotage me?
Either way, I knew one thing was for certain.
Taylor Sutherland was not to be trusted.
I felt completely overwhelmed.
Staring at everything I’d put together over the last two hours, I realized my father had set me up.
There was no way I could do this.
No possible way.
Sure, TV shows made interior design look incredibly easy. Those hot Property Brothers would swoop in every episode and totally renovate a house in weeks.
Without batting an eyelash.
But I wasn’t renovating an adorable house in an up-and-coming neighborhood for a couple of newlyweds. I was completely rebuilding an entire hotel from the ground up, which meant designing over two dozen rooms and getting more permits than I could count, and I hadn’t even gotten to the part where I had to find a suitable architect to redesign this eyesore for me.
Were there any architects in this part of North Carolina? I guessed I’d find out.
My head fell to my lap as I sat on one of the tattered, old pleather sofas in the lobby.
“Looks like you could use a drink.”
My head shot up as my back straightened.
“Did you just sneak in here?” I asked, turning to see Taylor making his final approach.
He was dressed in jeans today, thanks to the cooler temperature.
And, damn, didn’t they look good on him.
That denim hugged and squeezed all the right places, and it took every ounce of willpower I had to look away.
“No. I knocked actually, but when you didn’t answer, I peeked my head in and found you with your forehead all scrunched together like that. Hard day?”
“No,” I replied quickly. “Just a long one. Don’t you have tourists to flirt with?” I hadn’t meant to say that or to inject such venom, but I couldn’t help it. The window-watching had gotten to me.
Did he have to speak to every hot blonde who walked his way?
“Nope,” he answered with a sly smile. “All done for the day. You’re not still planning on tearing this thing down, are you?” His eyes fell to my notes.
“You know I can’t leave it like this,
Taylor. It’s hideous and absolutely nothing like I envisioned.”
His gaze looked out over the small lobby. It had seen better days, that was for sure. Layers of wallpaper—and not the trendy kind people were buying these days—covered the walls, the check-in counter was chipped and stained from years of use, and the floors were so damaged and worn that you couldn’t take a step without hearing a creak or a moan.
“It just needs some TLC,” he said, motioning his head towards the door. “Come on. Let me show you something.”
“What? Where?”
He was already headed for the front door but turned his head. “Don’t trust me, huh? Good. Let’s go.”
He kept going, so confident that I would follow. I looked down at my unfinished work and back toward him and finally let out a huff.
“Fine, but if they find my body two days from now—”
He pulled the door open for me and smiled. “Like I’d make it so easy.”
“I hate you.”
His hand brushed the small of my back, and he followed me out. “Hmm, I don’t think you do.” he said. “We’re going for a walk.”
“A walk? Now?” I sounded incredulous, but it didn’t stop me from following him down the street.
“Yeah. Why? Do people not walk in Honolulu? Or is it just you? Too outdoorsy? Don’t think I haven’t seen you walking past my office every morning this week.”
My arms folded across my chest. I grumbled. “I just—I have a lot to do.”
“I know,” he replied. “And I thought a walk might help you, especially when you see where we’re going. Besides to and from the inn, have you gone anywhere else in the town?”
“Does the corner market for coffee count?”
“If you can tell me the name of the owner, it does,” he said hopefully.
My lips pressed together as I tried to remember what he even looked like. It had been a he, hadn’t it?
“You don’t remember, do you?”
I shook my head as he let out a frustrated breath.
“What?” I finally said. “What did I do wrong this time?”
