Harlequin Special Edition October 2015, Box Set 1 of 2

by Christine Rimmer

  Mac thought a second, flipped to another screen and read some data there. Savannah waited, her heart thumping in her chest, hoping he’d say she didn’t need to fire anyone, after all.

  “Jeremy Reynolds and Carla Mueller,” Mac said. “Jeremy is the highest-paid employee you have in that department, and Carla is the newest.”

  She thought of Jeremy’s lopsided smile and Carla’s cheery attitude. “But you haven’t even met them. You don’t know what they are like or how much they love working for the company or anything else about them except what you’re reading in some cold, data-filled report.”

  “I know numbers, Miss Hillstrand. And that’s what I focus on. Not people.”

  For a while earlier she’d thought Mac Barlow had a warm side to him. There’d been a moment when they’d been talking about the water and the house when she thought she’d read something almost...wistful in his face. But clearly she had been wrong. This man was about as warm and fuzzy as an ironing board. “Business is all about people, Mr. Barlow. Without those people, Hillstrand Solar wouldn’t be where it is today. Did you know that Carla made dinner for my mother every single night for three weeks when my dad got sick and after he died, just to make sure she ate? And that Jeremy took up a collection at work to help offset the medical bills? He even stayed late several nights to make sure the finished orders got out the door so we didn’t suffer any disruption in business while my father was gone. Those are the people who built Hillstrand Solar, and I can’t fire them just because their salaries are too high or their experience level too low.”

  “Then be prepared to make other, more painful cuts,” Mac said, then took a sip of wine. “You have a simple equation here. Too little money coming in, too much money going out. You have to find a way to reverse that tide.”

  That was what she had been trying to do for months. With no success. “If I increase sales—”

  “That will help long term, but not in the present.” He grabbed a pad of paper out of his bag and started jotting numbers on a fresh page. “Let’s say you sell a thousand solar panels to a company that wants them next week.”

  She looked at the first number he put on the page—the total profit on a sale that large. “That would be great. That kind of sale could take us over this hump.”

  “It would. Once the sale is completed. First you have to order your materials,” Mac jotted another number. “Build the panels. Pay your employees for working.” He put down more numbers. “Then ship the panels to the customer.” Another set of numbers were added, then he did the math and subtracted those totals from the profit and drew a circle around the net gain. “And then wait to get paid. Even if they pay right away, you’re still looking at forty-five days—best-case scenario—between order placement and receiving the income. In that forty-five day period, you have paid for a significant amount of materials, met at least three payrolls and kept the lights on in the building. Where is that money coming from if you have negative cash flow?”

  “I was thinking I could take out a loan or try to get another line of credit...”

  “Your line of credit was already maxed out. And as for a loan...” Mac shrugged his shoulders. “Banks are much more leery of handing out cash since the recession. And they would be less likely to want to take a risk on an untried CEO with a struggling company.”

  He was right, damn it. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t already figured out on her own. But she’d kept thinking, hoping, there was another option. Some miracle that would come along and solve everything. Savannah took a long sip of wine. Then another. Jeez, at this point, maybe she should just down the whole bottle. It couldn’t possibly make things any worse. “Then what do I do?”

  “Fire two employees. That’s two paychecks taken out of payroll effective right now.” Mac shrugged, as if it was as simple as marching in on Monday morning and saying you’re fired.

  She shook her head. “No. I won’t do that. Not to Jeremy and Carla.”

  He let out a frustrated sigh. “There really is no other way—”

  “There has to be. You’re a smart man.” She waved at the screen. “Give me another option.”

  “Why are you being so stubborn about this? Part of being in the big office means making the big decisions—the ones no one else wants to make.”

  “Would you fire the people who helped your family through some of their hardest times imaginable? Or would you find another way?”

  He held her gaze for a long time, then let out a breath and turned back to the screen. “You are one stubborn woman.”

  “I know. You told me that already. Twice now.”

  “That’s because you’re twice as stubborn as anyone I’ve ever met.”

  “And that’s why I’m not letting you tell me to give up. There has to be a way to save this company and to save everyone in it.” She refilled her glass of wine, and took another sip. Her nerves began to calm a little. She might not have any answers yet, but Savannah had no doubt that between her and Mac, they could cobble together a workable solution.

  “Business isn’t a Disney movie, you know,” Mac said. “You can’t necessarily make it all come out perfect in the end with happy people riding off into the sunset.”

  “It doesn’t have to be a tragedy, either.” She pushed her still-full plate to the side and nodded to the waitress to take it away. She didn’t want to eat right now. She wanted to sit here until she had another option, one that would let her tackle Monday morning with some kind of purpose. “So let’s find a way to make this work.”

  “Let’s?” He arched a brow. “You and me working together? Because so far it seems like we’ve been at cross-purposes.”

  “We’re not at cross-purposes, Mac. We both want Hillstrand Solar to make money. We’re just at cross-methods.” She tapped the screen. “I say we find a way to make those methods work together.”

  He sat back in his chair and studied the screen while he sipped the rest of his wine. He seemed to like the challenge she’d given him, welcome it even. “Normally, I’d say you have two options. Cut the overhead to increase profits, or sell and cut your losses. Salvage what you can and maybe walk away with something.”

  “And I’m not willing to do either.”

  He let out a long sigh. “What you want is a creative solution to a difficult problem. That’s not really my area of expertise.”

  The condensation on her wineglass cooled Savannah’s palms. “It was, once.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She looked him in the eye. “Ten years ago you bought back a company you had sold. The new owners had moved the location, then left the former location like a ghost town. You bought it, nurtured it back to health and, as far as I know, never sold that business or the location again.”

  He arched a brow and leaned back in his chair, his jaw slack. “How do you know that?”

  “I do my research, too, Mac.” It was the one fact she’d stumbled across that had given her hope he would work with her instead of just try to force her to sell. The one item she had held on to when she’d scheduled this meeting with him. She’d prayed there was still a little of that spirit inside Mac Barlow, and that maybe, just maybe, he’d do the same for Hillstrand Solar.

  “I’m impressed, Savannah.” He refilled his glass, then nodded toward hers.

  She shook her head. The last thing she needed to do was get drunk with Mac Barlow. She was already feeling tipsy, and regretting that she hadn’t eaten anything for dinner. “Thank you. And thank you for not calling me Miss Hillstrand. That always makes me feel old.”

  He chuckled. “You are far from looking like an old woman. Although, I have to admit that when I first set up our meeting, I pictured someone more...dowdy.”

  “Dowdy?” That made her laugh. “Why would you think that?”

  “You’ve been very profess
ional in all our conversations and email exchanges. You just seemed less...” He shrugged. “Relaxed. Less like you are right now.”

  “Ah, that’s because I’m on the water. When I’m over at the house—” her gaze went to the Georgian just a short boat ride away and a longing filled her “—it’s like I’m a whole other person.”

  “Out of the suits and into a bikini and flip-flops?”

  It had to be the wine she’d drank, because she felt her cheeks heat and a flirty smile curve across her face. “I would say a bikini and flip-flops are pretty much as far from professional as I can get. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  A grin flickered on his face. “Depends on the bikini.”

  Were they flirting? Was she attracted to Mac Barlow, the very man who was trying to buy and dismantle her father’s dream? “I haven’t had a lot of bikini time in the last few months.”

  “Pity.” Mac’s grin flickered again, almost as if the smile was so unaccustomed to being on his face it had trouble staying put. “Everyone should take time to enjoy the water when you live near a view like that.” He waved a hand at the deep blue Atlantic, its gentle waves seeming to beckon them closer.

  She took another sip of wine, noting her head had that happy floating-in-clouds feeling. Definitely no more wine for her tonight. “It’s still light out. Maybe we should head across the bay, and at least dip our toes in the water.”

  “I thought we were here to talk business.” He gestured toward the laptop and pad of paper.

  “You’re the one who said everyone who lives near a view like that should take advantage of it. You’re living here for a week. So...you should take advantage.”

  His gaze met hers, hot and intense. “Of the water, you mean.”

  An undercurrent rippled between them, tempting and dark. It had to be the wine, she told herself, not the way this man had roared into her life with that leather jacket and that dark hair that begged her to touch. “Of course that’s what I mean.”

  Mac held her gaze awhile longer. “Me, too. Of course.”

  * * *

  Mac didn’t know what had made him agree to get in a little boat and zip across the bay with Savannah. The sun was beginning to set, but the air was still summer warm, hot enough to tempt him to kick back and take a swim.

  Okay, yes, he did know. The more time he spent around Savannah Hillstrand and her amazing smile, the less he thought about business. In the back of his mind he was wondering how he could make her smile again, how he could make her laugh. And this house, the one with the tempting Adirondack chairs, brought out her biggest smile, which had made him ache to feel the same. As if merely being with her, on the water, would imbue him with the peace he saw in her eyes.

  When was the last time he’d done something like this? Zipped away from work just to take a walk? He thought, but honestly couldn’t remember a time since he’d hit eighteen when he’d taken off early and hit the beach or a park or anything remotely resembling a vacation spot. He’d traveled, of course, but always for business, with every spare moment spent in his hotel room on his laptop, analyzing numbers, creating projections, working deals.

  Savannah had sat at the rear of the small metal boat, starting the engine then navigating across the bay like a pro. He had to admit it was pretty damned sexy to see a woman who could operate a boat with confidence. The wind caught her hair, whipping the blond tresses around her shoulders. Coupled with the sundress and her bare feet—she’d kicked her shoes to the side when she got in the boat—she looked like a completely different woman from the one he’d met just hours ago.

  A tempting woman. A woman who made him forget about business and bottom lines. The kind that could distract him from the whole reason he was here.

  That was a very dangerous combination.

  She docked the boat beside a short pier, threw a rope onto a cleat and was climbing out before he could help her. “You surprise me,” he said as he stepped onto the dock.

  “I do?” She slipped her shoes back on to her feet, and started walking toward the house. “How?”

  “I guess I didn’t expect you to know how to start an outboard or dock a boat.”

  “I have a lot of skills you aren’t aware of, Mac.” A slight smile played at the edge of her lips, and a tease lit her eyes.

  Damn. He liked the way she said his name. “If we keep changing the subject like this, it’s going to feel like we’re on vacation together.”

  The suggestion heated the air between them. Made him imagine taking Savannah to an island getaway, just the two of them, laughing and toasting and...

  More. A lot more.

  “I’d call this...recess,” Savannah said. “Not a vacation.”

  She was right, but he didn’t want to give up that vacation image in his head. Not yet.

  “That’s a vacation house,” Mac said, pointing at the white two-story house presiding over the dock.

  “It used to be,” Savannah said softly. “And maybe someday it will be again.”

  Behind them, there was a splash. Both of them turned at the same time toward the bay, just as a fish disappeared beneath the surface. Savannah turned left, Mac turned right and their cheeks nearly brushed. Hot awareness roared through Mac of Savannah’s skin, her perfume, her entire body. His breath held for a second, neither of them moving, as if they were afraid to disrupt the moment.

  “It was a...a fish,” he said.

  “Must have been trying to get away,” she said, her voice as soft as a whisper.

  He could feel the movement of her mouth in the air between them, feel the warmth of her breath against his skin.

  His gaze traveled along the curve of her neck, the ridges of her collarbone, the swell of her breasts beneath the dark green cotton dress. Her mouth opened, closed, another breath passing between them, then he drew in the dark floral scent of her perfume, his mind filling with only her. With wanting her.

  “We...” Her words trailed off.

  “Yes,” he said, and he wasn’t sure why, because in that next moment he was leaning in, brushing his lips against hers. Her lips parted, soft, sweet, hesitant. She paused only a second, probably caught off guard, then her hand came up and rested gently against his arm. Her feathery touch opened a door inside Mac, a door he’d kept shut for a long, long time. He turned, sliding one arm around her, then deepened the kiss.

  She opened to him with a little mew, and he nearly came undone at the sound. Then her hands were tangling in his hair, and his arms were going tight around her waist, and the kiss turned from something sweet to something dark, hot, insistent.

  Savannah stumbled back, breaking the contact. “That...what...what was that?”

  “An accident,” he said, because it was, wasn’t it? “I’m sorry.”

  Her eyes were wide and glossy in the waning light. She gave him a short nod. “I agree. Maybe it’s best if we just don’t...don’t do that again.”

  Every fiber of his being wanted to do that again. That and much, much more. Instead, he nodded. “Agreed.”

  He turned away, back toward Willie Jay Hillstrand’s house. Even in the dim end of the day, Mac could see the peeling paint, the missing shingles, the sagging porch. It had once been a proud and majestic house, he was sure, but after years of abuse from the salty air on the Atlantic seaboard, the home had begun to edge into decay.

  “You should sell this house,” he said, because it was easier to focus on dollars and cents and sensible decisions than whatever the hell he’d just been doing. “Keep the cash, reinvest—”

  She spun toward him, the softness in her eyes replaced by fire. “Do you sell everything you come across? Is there anything you think is too special to get rid of?”

  “Everything is replaceable, Savannah.”

  “No, Mac, that’s where you’re wrong.” Her gaze went back to
the house, to the one place in the world that he suspected held all her best memories. He watched her heart break a little when her gaze lingered on the sad frown in the rotting porch, and he felt bad for saying what he’d been thinking.

  She pointed across the yard to a small white replica of the beach house that sat atop a tall wooden pole. “Do you see that birdhouse? My dad and I built that when I was nine. It’s not very fancy and, frankly, I did a pretty lousy paint job on it, but it’s home to this pair of bluebirds who nest there every year. If you look closely, you can sometimes see the babies poking their heads out.”

  “What does that have to do with selling this house?”

  “It’s one of the many, many special things about this place. It’s a memory that I can’t relive and can’t get back. But every time I see that birdhouse, and every time I see a new family taking root inside those walls, I think of my father. Of how he built that with me to give us something to look forward to every summer. A story to follow. Those are the kinds of things that make a house more than a property you can sell for a price. It makes it a home. Not everything is replaceable. And not everything has a price tag.”

  In Mac’s world everything had a price, a value. The land they were standing on, the house that she got all emotional about, even the boots on his feet were all commodities. A new birdhouse could be bought in a store, installed at another address. The sooner she learned that, the sooner Savannah Hillstrand would quit holding on to a business out of sentimental value and see the sense in affixing it with a price and unloading it to someone else.

  And with that his mind shifted back into business mode. This was a break, a temporary one, over almost as fast as it had begun. Monday morning they’d both be back to work, no more beaches, flip-flops or bikinis in sight. And no more kisses. Especially no more of those.

  And that made him disappointed as hell, then, a second later, mad at himself. What was he doing? He was supposed to be convincing her to sell so he could move on to the next project, the next business and get back on the road. Not get involved with her on an increasingly personal level. “We should probably keep this short, so we can get back to—”