As tears spilled down my cheeks, I tried to soothe the wound my sister had opened in me by reminding myself they may not be blood but my friends were the best sisters a girl could ask for.
Closing the office door behind me, I hurried to the phone.
The words spat out of me in a jumbled, frantic mess and my dad had to ask me to repeat them. His response once I did and did it slower, clearer, was a riot of curse words I didn’t think I’d ever heard my dad use before.
“This can’t be right,” Mom whimpered over the speakerphone. “You have to be wrong.”
I did not have time for my mother’s blind devotion to her children. “My inn is about to be part-owned by Ian Devlin. There is no mistake in that. Now help me or let me get off the phone. Dad, your lawyer wrote the contract. Surely, there’s something we can do.”
“I’ll call him and get right back to you,” he promised.
“I’ll call Vanessa,” Mom said. “I’ll make her change her mind.”
Good luck with that.
After I got off the phone I stared at the wall in the office.
I’d underestimated just how deep my sister’s resentment and dislike for me ran.
It wasn’t all about her weird resentment of me; I knew Vanessa didn’t hate me. The problem with my sister was her selfishness, and her inability to see beyond her own needs. She had no idea what the consequences of her selling her share of the inn to Devlin were because she hadn’t thought about it.
She didn’t want to think about it.
I called my brother. He didn’t answer.
Shit.
I tried again.
And again.
Just when I was about to give up on him calling me back, the phone rang. I snatched it up. “Charlie.”
“Bailey, what’s going on?”
“I—”
My office door swung open, and affection and gratitude rushed through me at the sight of Vaughn. His features were tight, his expression dark, and I knew that he knew.
“Dahlia called. I ran right over. What can I do?” He took my free hand in both of his and raised it to his lips to kiss my knuckles.
I leaned into him. “I—”
“Bailey, are you there?” Charlie asked in my ear.
“I’m on the phone with my brother,” I said to Vaughn.
“What can I do?”
“Nothing.” I squeezed his hand, giving him a sad smile. “But thank you for rushing over here.”
Vaughn frowned. “Surely, there’s something I can do.”
“Dad’s calling our lawyer and I’m just about to tell Charlie about it. He and Vanessa are closer. There’s a possibility he can talk her out of this.”
“Out of what?” Charlie was impatient.
“I have to—” I shook my phone at Vaughn. “Sorry. I’ll come right over and see you as soon as I know what’s going to happen.”
Not at all happy and unable to mask it, Vaughn gave me an abrupt nod, dropped my hand, and walked out. I sighed, knowing I’d have to deal with that later.
“Charlie?”
“I’m still here. You’re the one not talking,” he snapped. “What’s going on?”
After I told him, he had much the same response as our dad, except he directly insulted Vanessa. “I’m going to kill her!” he ended.
“Or you could talk to her. Make her see sense. Out of all of us she likes you best, Charlie.”
“Well I don’t like her very much right now.”
“Uh, yeah, no, me either, but that’s not going to help. Talk to her. Please.”
“I’ll try.” He sounded grim. “I’ll call you after I call her.”
Once we hung up I wandered, zombie-like, out into reception, where Dahlia and Mona still waited. Dahlia sat on the chesterfield with a grilled cheese sandwich Mona had obviously whipped up for her.
I blanched, wondering if any of my guests had overheard my argument with my sister.
It was as if Dahlia could read my thoughts. “There aren’t any guests around.”
“Thank God.” I flopped down beside her and took the plate of grilled cheese from her. She let me. But even its deliciousness did not ease my current pain so I handed it back to her instead of wasting it on me.
“Vaughn left here looking a little upset,” Dahlia said.
My chest tightened at the thought of being on the outs with Vaughn so soon into our relationship and so soon after our glorious night of risky sex. “He wanted to help. I didn’t let him.”
We were silent as I contemplated why I hadn’t let him. “I don’t know why I didn’t let him,” I murmured.
“Well,” Mona piped up. “If he’s any kind of man, that won’t stop him.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Vaughn
“Sir, Miss Hartwell is not receiving visitors today.” The concierge got off the phone.
Standing in Devlin’s Grand Hotel, Vaughn used his famed icy cool to deal with the concierge. Outwardly he had managed to find the control he had always maintained even around Bailey, before he got a taste of her. Inside he was a riot of fury that these people would dare to hurt someone he loved; that Bailey’s own sister would dare to do this to her.
He slipped the man a hundred-dollar bill. “Call her back and tell her that Mr. Tremaine would like to discuss a competitive offer.”
The man called Vanessa’s room again.
At first Vaughn was angry and, yes, admittedly hurt that Bailey refused his help. She hadn’t done it in an ungrateful way, but in a way that suggested she didn’t even think about asking for his help. That was almost worse.
For a moment he considered moping like a child about it, and then he got his balls back and decided he would help his woman out, even if she were too dense to see he was her best chance. After searching Vanessa’s known haunts, he had concluded the woman would be hiding out until the deed was done.
However, as he started to think about it, it occurred to him that Vanessa Hartwell was smarter than he’d first realized.
There was no reason to tell Bailey about the dinner meeting with the Devlins until after the deed was done, so why give Bailey a heads-up?
Why give her time to attempt to stop the transaction?
Because this was what she wanted.
Vaughn, exactly where he was right then.
She wanted a counteroffer from Bailey’s wealthy boyfriend.
The thought of giving in to the little conniving snake chafed at him . . . Another sister playing him, not caring if she hurt her own family to get what she wanted.
But this was about the inn. It was about Bailey. And he’d sacrifice his pride, his wallet, and whatever else it would take to ensure his woman’s happiness.
His phone rang just as the concierge got a response from Vanessa. It was Dahlia McGuire, so he picked up. “What’s going on?”
“What’s going on is that I hope you have a plan B, Vaughn,” Dahlia whispered down the phone. “Right now Bailey is in the office on conference call with her family trying to calm her parents and brother down because the lawyer told them there is nothing to be done, and Vanessa won’t pick up her phone.”
“You’re to go straight up, Mr. Tremaine,” the concierge informed him. “Room 228.”
He gave the man a clipped nod and strode toward the elevator. “I’m dealing with Vanessa.”
“What? What are you up to?”
“Plan B, Miss McGuire. Plan B.” He hung up on her and called his lawyer. “I need you on hand. We’re drawing up a contract today.”
Vanessa Hartwell opened the door to her suite and Vaughn was pleased to find her fully dressed. In fact she was the most conservatively dressed he’d ever seen her, wearing a crew-neck T-shirt and skinny jeans. Her makeup was pared back and her hair was tied up in a knot. She looked younger, fresher, and the res
emblance to her sister was more apparent.
The thought sent another rush of anger through Vaughn but he kept a tight leash on it as he walked into the sitting room. “I see the Devlins are taking good care of you.”
She flashed him a mischievous smile as she sat down on the sofa. “Once I told Jack I was thinking of selling my share in the inn I found myself upgraded.”
“Imagine that,” he murmured, sitting opposite her.
“Yes, imagine that. So . . . what are you doing here, Mr. Tremaine? I hope you’ve not come to plead on my sister’s behalf.”
“No, I haven’t. But I am here to save her inn.”
She narrowed her eyes and sat forward, studying his face closely. “What is it about her? Why do you love her?”
Hearing the bitterness in her voice, seeing the jealousy buried deep in the depths of her gaze, Vaughn replied, “Why do you hate her?”
The question surprised her. Vanessa sat back against the couch. “I don’t hate my sister.”
“I find that surprising.”
“I said I don’t hate her. But I don’t like her.”
“Why?”
She made a face. “Do you know how many times I heard my father ask me, ‘Why, V? Why can’t you be more like Cherry?’ She got good grades, she was involved in school events, town events, and she was always working at the inn, learning the ropes. Because I had no interest in any of those things, my father thought I was a loser.”
“I’m sure he didn’t.”
“Well he made me feel less than her. It never bothered Charlie, but it bothered me. Daddy and his little girl.”
“You’re telling me this comes down to sibling rivalry?” Jesus Christ. This woman had never grown up.
“I couldn’t care less about that,” she snapped. “All I care about is making money. I tried to get involved in the inn, make it mine, and she wouldn’t let me. It was boring anyway. So selling my share makes more sense.”
“But you’re making money from the inn.”
“Yes, but I’ll make it all up front this way, and more besides. It seems Devlin is desperate to get his hands on boardwalk property.”
“You do realize that once he owns a share of the inn he will try to find a way to take the rest of it. I’ll try to make sure he won’t succeed but he’s going to make Bailey’s life a living hell.”
“My sister’s tough. And a little melodramatic. Devlin won’t be able to take the inn. Charlie has a thirty percent share and Bailey has forty percent. They’re the majority shareholders and Charlie won’t let anything happen to the inn for Bailey’s sake. My whole family adores my sister.”
Studying her, Vaughn realized that Vanessa really had no idea of the ramifications of what she was doing. She underestimated Devlin entirely. “Stu Devlin attacked your sister. It doesn’t concern you that you’re selling your share to the people who would do that to her?”
Vanessa shifted uncomfortably. “It was never proven. Stu has an alibi.”
“I was there, Vanessa. I walked into her office and found her struggling beneath him on the floor. I got to them just as he was about to put a fist through her face.”
She looked away and he saw how hard she swallowed, how her fingers curled into little fists before she shook them out and turned back to him, her eyes blazing. “Look, are you going to make a counteroffer, or what?”
Bailey
It was four o’clock and I had nothing.
We had nothing.
We’d tried calling my sister but she wasn’t answering her phone. We’d tried calling the Grand Hotel but she had a Do Not Disturb sign on her room.
I’d finally hung up on the conference call with my family after we realized we couldn’t stop my sister from doing this. My brother and father were threatening to disown her. My mother wouldn’t stop weeping.
As for me I was exhausted.
And scared.
I knew it was all too good to be true.
Having my beautiful inn and finding someone like Vaughn? Someone who got how much it meant to me, who didn’t mind me working hard because he worked hard, too. Finding someone who gave me butterflies and made my heart pound, who excited me and exasperated me . . .
Being this happy?
I knew it was too good to be true.
I’d just assumed that it was the Vaughn part I’d lose.
Not my inn.
You’ll be okay, I tried to tell myself.
“Bailey, can I get you anything?” Dahlia stood in the doorway to my office.
The worry in her eyes made the tears in mine spill over.
“Oh, sweetie.” She rushed over and bent down to hug me tight.
I held on and lost it completely.
Moments later Dahlia pulled away and I was hauled up out of my chair. Through confusion and blurry vision I barely recognized him. His familiar cologne and his strong embrace penetrated.
I sank into Vaughn, crying into his neck as he hushed me while gently rubbing my back.
“Princess, please,” he begged. “Stop. It’s going to be okay.”
“It’s not!” I sobbed, not caring what a mess I was. “This is my home and Ian Devlin is going to come in and make my life hell and then try to take it from me and I might let him if he starts trying to change things and drive me insane and I just don’t know if—”
“Stop, stop.” Vaughn pushed me from him, his grip on my upper arms almost bruising. “No one is taking anything from you.” He looked back at Dahlia, who stood with tears in her eyes. “Can you give us a minute?”
She nodded and left the room, closing the office door behind her.
I sensed a new tension in Vaughn. “What? What is it? What happened?”
He let go of me to pick up papers he’d settled on my desk. He handed them to me and I stared at them, still confused. The words on the paper started to make a little sense. “This is a contract. For Vanessa’s share?”
“I bought it.”
“What?” What the hell did that mean? “What?” I repeated.
“That was her plan all along.”
“Explain from the beginning.”
“When I left here after you said you didn’t want my help . . .”
I winced at that. “I hurt your feelings, didn’t I?”
He gave me this sardonic I’m a man, I don’t have feelings look, but I knew. I’d unintentionally hurt his feelings.
“I’m an asshole.”
Vaughn grinned. “You’re not. You were just upset. While you were talking with your family I started to think, why would Vanessa warn you about the dinner tonight with the Devlins? Why give you a heads-up?”
My God, I hadn’t even . . . Vaughn was right. That made no sense. Why give me time to find a way to stop her? And then, staring up at my handsome, very wealthy boyfriend, it hit me. “You.”
His expression was grim. “Me. She wanted a counteroffer.”
Nausea rose up inside of me. “She used me to get to you.”
“Bailey—”
“Oh, God, no, Vaughn, I won’t let you do this.” I stood up, holding the contract out to him. “I won’t let her manipulate you like this.”
“It’s done,” he said firmly. “And I won’t be talked out of it.”
As he took hold of my wrist and tugged me into him, the contract crushed between us, I felt something building inside of me, something huge and overwhelming and terrifying.
“My lawyer is going to draw up another contract in the morning. I’m handing the shares back over to you.”
“No.” The word was out of me before I could stop it.
“No?” Vaughn cupped my face in his hands.
My legs felt like jelly, my stomach was a riot of butterflies, and I was pretty sure even my lips were quivering.
Vaughn frowned, concerned. “Y
ou’re trembling.”
I nodded, swallowing hard past the lump of emotion in my throat. “I want you to keep the shares.”
“What? Why?”
Finally I dropped all my defenses and let everything I felt for him show. Vaughn tensed at the emotion in my eyes, and then the most beautiful sense of wonder began to fill his expression.
“I trust you,” I whispered against his lips. “I need you to know that I trust you. I know that you would never hurt me, that you would never take this place from me. So keep the shares, and do it knowing that I trust you. That I love you.”
I heard his sharp inhale, felt the slow exhale of it on my lips. “You love me?”
Scary, awesome, overwhelming joy filled me as I stared up at him. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. It scares the living daylights out of me.”
He grinned. Huge. A boyish, wicked grin that made me feel like my heart might burst out of my chest. “Welcome to my world.”
I laughed and pressed a quick, sweet kiss to his mouth. “I love you,” I repeated.
“I love you, too.” He kissed me back, this time long and deep and soulful.
When we finally came up for air I laughed again. “I didn’t think today would end like this.”
“It’s not over.” His voice was filled with sexy promise. “First, we agree that you’re taking the shares back.”
“Vaughn, no. How much did you even pay for those?”
At his shuttered look I felt my stomach drop.
“You overpaid,” I deduced. “By a whole lot.”
“Devlin was going to overpay. I had to overpay to win.”
A thought occurred to me. “She could have turned it into an auction. Made a lot of money by pitting you against one another.”
“No. She never wanted to sell to Devlin.”
“She wouldn’t have cared. She just wanted money.”
“No,” Vaughn assured me. “Your sister is a brat who has never grown up and yes, definitely resents you, but she doesn’t hate you. She never wanted to see Devlin take this from you. This was just her very clever way of getting money out of me.”
Every Little Thing Page 32
