Every Little Thing

by Samantha Young

  “I like him. Your dad. I like him a lot.”

  “Most people do. He’s a very charming man.”

  “A good dad?”

  “A very good dad. A very good man.”

  “He’s very . . . down to earth for a man of privilege.”

  “Well he wasn’t always privileged. He’s the son of a postal worker.”

  I was astonished. “I thought you were born a blue blood.”

  Vaughn gave me a wry smile. “On my mother’s side. We’re not exactly on speaking terms. They weren’t too happy when their darling daughter married a man who’d muscled his way into society.”

  “What an outdated attitude.”

  “Not then. And lineage is still important to some people. Yeah, if you’ve got enough money and power, you can find your place. But there are still some of the old families who haven’t realized we’ve come a long way since the times of arranged marriages. The Montgomerys are one of them.”

  “The Montgomerys. That’s your mother’s family?” Jesus. Vaughn’s dad might not be a blue blood but Vaughn certainly was.

  It was hard not to be intimidated by that kind of history. Even I knew who the Montgomerys were. They were giants in the industrial revolution, and now owned a billion-dollar corporation that had its fingers in all sorts of pies—mostly in aeronautics.

  “That’s my mother’s family. Or it was until they disowned her for marrying my father.”

  The romantic in me swooned. “But she didn’t care, did she?”

  Whatever he heard in my voice made his eyes soften again. My belly fluttered in reaction, like a schoolgirl with her first crush. “She loved them. She just loved my father more.”

  The air between us felt too thick and I knew I was on the cusp of throwing myself at him. And I wasn’t even drunk. “So, Vaughn Tremaine believes in love,” I teased, trying to ease the tension between us. “Who would have thunk it?”

  He gave me that lopsided smirk of his and I swear to God I felt that smirk from my nipples to the heat between my legs.

  I hated that I was so attracted to him. Yet I didn’t hate it as much as I hated it yesterday.

  In fact, maybe it kind of thrilled me.

  “So there was no one back in New York? Or are all the stories of your playboy ways true?”

  “Have you been Googling me, Miss Hartwell?”

  And we were back to Miss Hartwell. “Emery told me.”

  “Has she been Googling me?”

  “No, you arrogant ass.” I laughed. “Her grandmother used to read the society pages to her.”

  “Ah. How thrilling for her.”

  “You didn’t like it? Is that why you came out here?”

  “Why all the sudden questions?”

  “Well, you see, when you helped me out tonight you made me hate you less.”

  He grinned and I triumphed. “Ah. My mistake.”

  “Yeah. You should have kept on walking when you saw my doors open.”

  Just like that his grin disappeared.

  “I’m not the only one who isn’t sure of you,” I said. “If you’re trying to make Hartwell your home, you’re going about it the wrong way.”

  “What does that mean?”

  I ignored his defensive tone, one that a lesser person might be afraid of. “You’re a smart man. I’m sure you’ve figured out that what makes Hartwell Hartwell is the fact that it’s a small town where everyone knows each other and we all play our part. We’re involved in some way. Me, I get involved in events when I can, and I’m always a listening ear when someone wants to talk. Coop, he helps old ladies across the street, pisses off Uly’s Garage by working on people’s cars when they can’t afford a mechanic, and he’s the owner of their favorite watering hole. Jess, she’s new to town, but she’s a doctor. She diagnosed Anita last year and gave her more time with Old Archie. Dahlia helps make the costumes for the winter carnival every year, and is dragged into making costumes for the school plays a lot, too. But then there’s you and Emery. Em is too shy to get involved and so the town doesn’t look at her as one of them. She’s still an outsider. As for you, you don’t get involved, either. You have all that money and your fancy hotel, and you do nothing for the town.”

  “Outside of helping the town’s economy thrive by bringing more tourists and business to them.”

  I’d annoyed him. That hadn’t been my intention. “I know you do that. They know you do that. But have you ever even been to the music festival or the annual punkin chunkin’ competition or the winter carnival? Have you donated to the causes these events raise money for? Or have you ever considered contacting Kell Summers, our councilman and events guy, and asking him if there’s anything you can do to help with the organization of an event? You have no idea how something that simple will make people look at you differently, and start to see you as one of them.”

  “By helping organize an event?” He looked incredulous but I could see he was listening to what I had to say.

  “Let me put it bluntly—”

  “That wasn’t you putting it bluntly?”

  “Tremaine, everyone thinks you think that you’re better than us. They think you have a giant stick up your ass. Show them you’re fun and human. It will go a long way with them.”

  “Yes, that was definitely more blunt.”

  I grinned at him. “I’m just trying to help.”

  “By suggesting I remove the stick from up my ass?”

  “Yup.”

  He shot me a bemused look and then stared out at the ocean.

  I wondered if he was still considering my advice, but when he spoke his words weren’t the ones I’d been expecting. “Despite our differences I hope you know I would never walk away from a woman in trouble. I would never have just walked on by when I saw the inn had been broken into.”

  At his stiff reply, I touched his knee without even thinking. “I know that.”

  He glanced down at my hand and I realized what I was doing.

  I snatched my hand back. “You know I walked into my office, calling the police, so confident that Stu wouldn’t hurt me, and I just strolled in there quite the thing and gave the asshole a chance to swipe at me, and he did. I still can’t believe he did that, and now I have to hide it from Cooper and Jess so they don’t, you know, try to kill him, and I just don’t how I can hide anything from those two—”

  I was cut off by the strong, warm hand that curled around mine.

  I looked down at Vaughn’s beautiful, masculine hand, holding my small one.

  “You’re rambling.”

  “I do that sometimes.”

  “I know. You’ve just never directed a ramble at me before.”

  “It annoyed Tom.” I wondered if it annoyed Vaughn.

  His answer was to squeeze my hand and then let it go.

  My rambling didn’t annoy Vaughn.

  And just like that I was again overcome with the urge to throw myself at him.

  Maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through my veins, kicked up into gear again by the memory of Stu attacking me. Or maybe it was because I was just an idiot woman easily seduced by men like Vaughn Tremaine. Or maybe, and this was more likely, I was the kind of woman who was attracted to the wounded.

  I liked to rescue people.

  Not in an aren’t I a wonderful heroine, running around saving people? kind of way. I just . . . So many people looked past other people’s pain. Mostly because we had our own pain to deal with, it was too hard to deal with some stranger’s.

  But I had people in my life. People who loved me. Cared for me.

  I was one of the lucky ones.

  There were people out there, people like Jess and Dahlia and Emery, who didn’t have anyone. So I gave them me because I didn’t know any other way to face the world. I made wounded strangers my family in the
hopes that it would make it easier for them to deal with their pain. And yes, it wasn’t entirely altruistic. I missed my own family. In reaching out to those who needed it I was making another family closer to home.

  I was still working on Emery.

  I guess in a way I was still working on Dahlia, too.

  I should not turn Vaughn into family.

  I shouldn’t.

  “Stu will pay for tonight.” Vaughn’s hard words cut through my musings.

  He looked fierce. Determined. Like a protector. An unexpected protector.

  And that’s when it hit me.

  Maybe I didn’t want to rescue Vaughn.

  Maybe . . . holy hell . . .

  Did I want Vaughn to save me?

  I felt winded by the prospect that I could feel something emotional for Vaughn Tremaine. Was I willing to throw out all my fears and insecurities that only he brought out in me, because for one night he’d shown me the softer side of him? The kind side. The passionate side.

  Did I want him? Really, truly?

  I imagined myself naked beneath him, his hands pinning my wrists to the bed as I allowed him to take sexual control of me.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  Oh, holy hell, was I in trouble.

  “What?” Vaughn frowned.

  I realized then I’d spoken out loud.

  My heart hammered in my chest. “I better get back to the inn . . . Will you . . . will you walk with me?”

  If he was surprised by my question, by the vulnerability I allowed him to see, Vaughn didn’t show it.

  Instead, like the gentleman I’m sure his father raised him to be, he got to his feet and held out a hand to me.

  I took it, acknowledging the rush of sparks I felt tingle through me at his touch.

  Awareness.

  Those sparks had existed between us since the beginning, but I’d refused to admit I could be that attracted to someone I didn’t like, especially while I was supposed to be in love with Tom.

  I could admit now that there was more to Vaughn Tremaine than met the eye, and yes he could be an asshole, but there was a reason for that, too. I hadn’t missed the fact that he’d avoided my question about being in love. And I was Bailey Hartwell. There was no one who enjoyed a mystery more than I did. He was a mystery I very much wanted to work out.

  As Vaughn’s grip on me tightened as he pulled me up, as our eyes met and his flared at the brush of our bodies as I stood, that power I’d felt earlier surged through me.

  Vaughn wanted me.

  Thrill soared through me.

  It was hard to puzzle out a mystery when you had no aces up your sleeve.

  I had an ace in this situation, though.

  I’d never used sex as an ace before. It was something we both wanted but could never admit to. Until now. And for me, it was the stepping stone I needed to get close enough to a man who I finally could admit intrigued me like no other.

  TEN

  Bailey

  There were no more words between us as Vaughn walked me back to the inn.

  “Do a walk-through with me?” I unlocked the front door as I spoke.

  If he was surprised that I, Bailey Hartwell, needed a man to be at my side while I checked the inn was safe, he didn’t say anything.

  Instead we walked through the rooms, making sure it was all clear, leaving the empty wine bottle, glasses, and soaked dish towel in the kitchen, before I led him to my office.

  It was still a mess from earlier.

  “Do you want me to help you clean it up?” Vaughn frowned down at the spot where Stu had pinned me down.

  “No. I’ll get it tomorrow.” I walked out, hoping he’d follow, and he did, a flicker of wariness crossing his expression when he realized we were standing outside a bedroom. “I sleep here when I work too late.”

  I read the moment he was going to walk away.

  “I know you want me.” Typical me to simply put it out there.

  I just never thought I’d put it out there with Vaughn.

  He cursed under his breath and moved to leave, but I stepped into him and placed my hands on his strong chest, pressed my legs against his.

  He gripped my biceps as if to push me away, but as soon as he touched me, he froze, undecided.

  My heart hammered against my chest at the feel of him against me, at the smell of his expensive cologne, at the thought of waking up with my sheets smelling of that expensive cologne. My nipples tightened beneath my sweater and I wished I were still wearing my camisole so he could see my body’s blatant reaction to his proximity.

  “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

  His grip on me loosened, and I feared that self-control of his was about to rear its ugly head. “Then I’ll stay with you but we don’t have to have sex.”

  “What did I just say about pulling that stick out of your ass?” I teased, pressing closer to him, enjoying the hard tension in his body. “I’m so tired of always being in control, Vaughn. I look after myself. I look after my inn. I look after this town. With Tom I looked after him in every way. I took control in our lives and in our bed. For once I don’t want to.” I reached up on my tiptoes and brushed my lips against his. The touch caused a rush of tingles between my legs and I gasped.

  I felt him tremble.

  Satisfaction roared through me. “Take me into my room, Vaughn. Take control so I don’t have to. I want you to. I want you to lay me down on that bed and take what you want. You want to, right?” I looked deep into his hard eyes and shivered at the heat I found in them. “I bet you’ve thought about it. Fucking the hostile Princess of the Boardwalk into submission.”

  His eyes flared and his fingers bit into my arms.

  I had a feeling I’d just hit the target dead-on.

  “You have no idea.” His mouth slammed down on mine, his kiss hard, punishing, almost painful.

  Controlling.

  And for once, just as I promised, I was okay with that.

  No one had ever kissed me like Vaughn, like he’d die if he didn’t.

  I wrapped my arms around his waist, my fingers curling into his leather jacket as I tried to match him hungry kiss for hungry kiss. His tongue swept against mine and I groaned as lust shot through my breasts and belly. Vaughn’s hands had moved from my arms to tangle in my hair and as he kissed me I found myself being pushed through the bedroom door.

  I heard it click shut behind us and then I was shoved onto the bed.

  I bounced, startled out of the kiss.

  Vaughn towered over me, his whole body rigid, his features hard, his eyes hot.

  Angry.

  And I knew that there was a part of him that was still on the cusp of walking away from me. Why? To protect himself?

  Surely to God, if I could be brave and let myself go, stop hiding behind hostility and just let him have me, he could return the favor.

  I reached for the hem of my sweater and pulled it up over my head. I threw it away and reached for the clasp on my plain white bra. I shimmied it off and dropped it at his feet.

  I liked to think my breasts still looked good and right now they were swollen with desire, my nipples tight peaks.

  I sat back on my hands, the natural arch of my back thrusting my breasts out.

  Vaughn’s hands curled into fists at his sides as his gaze devoured me.

  The dampness between my legs grew wetter.

  The thick silence in the room was broken by the creak of leather as he shrugged out of his jacket. He tore it off, his sweater quick to follow.

  I was soaked as I took in the sight of him and thought of all that masculine beauty becoming mine.

  Unlike Tom, Vaughn took care of himself. Tom’s average physique had never bothered me. I was still attracted to him.

  But I wasn’t complaining about the chi
seled six-pack in my face.

  My eyes dropped to where Vaughn’s trousers hung low on his narrow hips, the cut V of his obliques turning me on past the point of hot to volcanic.

  “You can’t do it.” His words were thick with need. There was also anger in them.

  “What?” I managed.

  “Give up control.” He unbuckled his belt, his heated, furious gaze never leaving me. “Even now, you’re trying to control this, to control me. When I fantasized about fucking you into submission, princess, it involved me taking your clothes off. Not you taking your clothes off to seduce me into staying.” He pushed his pants down, toeing his shoes off at the same time.

  He stood before me in his black Calvin Kleins, more model than mogul, and if it wasn’t for the erection straining toward his hard stomach, I might have felt a flash of insecurity to be with a man so beautiful.

  “You’re right,” I whispered. Every inch of me was a live wire, tense, too hot, sensitive. I never knew it was possible to be so sexually alive, and yet so nervous. Because he was right. I said I wanted him to take control, but I was still controlling this moment.

  I tried to relax, lowering my back to the bed. I stared at him from under my eyelashes as I lay prone and willing for him. It was one thing to want this in my fantasies, to be turned on by the idea of being a woman who had control over her life but handed it over to a man in the bedroom; it was a different thing altogether to make it a reality.

  It was all about trust.

  And if I wanted to unearth the secrets Vaughn Tremaine held close, I had to give him my trust.

  It wasn’t easy to do considering we’d spent ninety-nine percent of our acquaintance being antagonistic toward one another. It maybe even didn’t make sense to give him my trust.

  But I was tired of playing it safe.

  His hooded eyes drifted down my body at my sudden pliancy. His dick swelled even more, stretching his CKs to the bursting point. My toes curled inside my flats.

  “That’s more like it.” He stepped toward the bed.

  He placed his hands on my knees, his thumbs on the inside of my legs, and he slowly coasted them upward.