by Nina Lindsey
Callie clicked her tongue in exasperation. “You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not kidding.”
“Aria, your business is failing.” Callie grabbed the paper, a frown carving lines around her mouth. “You don’t even have a profit-and-loss forecast in place, much less any kind of estimated future revenue. Imperial is offering more than the fair-market value and no contingencies. How can you possibly turn that down?”
Aria’s spine tensed. “Because it’s my business, and I can do what I want. Thanks for reminding me I’m such a failure, though.”
“I’m not…” Callie shook her head and pressed her lips together. “I’m just saying that you didn’t take the most basic operations into account when you decided to open a business on Mariposa Street.”
“And you didn’t take into account the fact that I can choose to do what I want with my money,” Aria snapped. “It still pisses you off that I actually did something big against your advice, doesn’t it?”
“Don’t you mean something foolish?”
“Girls, stop,” Eleanor said sharply.
Lowering her voice, Aria glared at her sister. “I’m surprised you, of all people, would be in favor of a property company taking over the most historic part of town. You’re a historian. Mariposa Street is where Bliss Cove started. We’re related to the woman who owned the Sterling House. Why would you want it destroyed?”
“Mariposa Street has been a drain on the town’s economy for years.” Callie picked up the take-out coffee and tucked the paper under her arm. “Even if it weren’t for Imperial’s offer, I still don’t think you realize that having a business and living on Mariposa is going to ruin you financially. You’ve already had to use the rest of your money on repairs, and—”
“How do you know I’ve used the rest of my money?” Not in a million years would she have told Callie that. She shot Rory a suspicious look. “Did you tell her?”
Rory sighed and flicked her long ponytail over her shoulder. “I might have mentioned it after you refused my loan offer. We don’t want you to end up in a money pit, and it sounds like that’s what’s happening.”
“What’s happening is that I won’t let a property company kick me out of my own home.” She taped the lid of the box, battling back old guilt over not being able to tell her mother and sisters all the reasons she needed so badly to make her café a success.
They didn’t know anything about her relationship with Steve. They thought she’d moved to Colorado on a whim, not because she’d gone to live with a man who’d promised her security. Even though she’d extricated herself from Steve before things got worse, she was still too ashamed to tell her family. They’d all been through enough after Gordon Prescott’s death without needing to know how vulnerable she’d been.
“Honey, don’t be upset.” Eleanor put her arm around Aria. “We want to support you, but surely you can see why we’re concerned.”
Aria smothered a bolt of anger toward both herself and them. Yes, she saw. That viewpoint was exactly what she was trying to change.
“I need to get going.” She picked up the boxes and started toward the kitchen. “I’ll see you all later. Mom, don’t forget to invoice me.”
Without giving them a chance to come after her, she hurried out to her car and drove back to Mariposa Street.
Pulling out her keys, she unlocked the door of Meow and Then. A chorus of howls and mews greeted her from the adjoining room. She opened the interior door separating the Cat Lounge from the food service area.
Over a dozen cats swarmed toward her, tails swishing and whiskers twitching. Porkchop was lolling on the sofa in a patch of sunlight. Hard to believe he’d masterminded a break-out just last night.
“Hello, my little sweeties.” Aria knelt to croon and pet the cats, making sure to give each one equal attention before she rose to refill their food dishes and give them fresh water.
She cleaned out the litter boxes, vacuumed the Cat Lounge, and prepared the front counter for opening. The building’s two rooms had clinched the deal for her—for health code reasons, the cats needed to be separated from the food service.
The Cat Lounge was the larger room, with big picture windows, round tables, and comfortable furniture. It was also a cat’s paradise furnished with multiple cat trees, scratching posts, and toys. A brick wall perforated by a large window separated the lounge from the front counter, where she sold coffee, tea, drinks, and the baked goods from Sugar Joy.
After starting a pot of coffee, she flipped the Open sign and unlocked the door.
“Hey, Crazy Cat Lady.” Her friend Brooke Castle, a slender brunette wearing a backwards baseball cap and a photographer’s vest, bounded up the front steps.
“Hey, Dogged Newshound.” Aria poured a cup of coffee and set it on the counter. “What are the Bliss Cove headlines today?”
“Apparently, Hal McGowan and Rodney Smith got into a fight at the Mousehole last night.” Brooke hitched herself onto a stool at the counter. “Over which fry shape tastes the best—crinkle-cut, regular, wedge, or waffle.”
“What about shoestring?” Aria took a kettle from the hot plate and poured boiling water into a mug.
Brooke shrugged. “Not part of the debate, I guess.”
“Who won?”
“Neither. Grant broke up the fight before either one of them landed a punch. The chief was having dinner there too, so he took them both in.” Brooke sipped the coffee. “You can read all the deets in tomorrow’s paper.”
Aria dropped a teabag into her mug. “Clearly the answer is regular fries.”
Her friend lifted an eyebrow. “Excuse me? Clearly the answer is crinkle-cut.”
“Crinkle-cut fries are way too machine-made.”
“The crinkles make them perfect for dunking in ketchup.”
Aria shook her head in mock despair. “After ten years, we can’t be best friends anymore.”
“You’d better be my best friend if you want this.” Brooke pulled a thick, bound report with a red cover from her bag. The title read Imperial Properties’ Oceanview Plaza – A Vertical Mixed-Use Development Proposal.
Aria’s insides tightened. “Where did you get this?”
“From a contact, but it’s not a secret. They revised the proposal a lot from the last one, hoping that the changes will get more people on board.”
Aria flipped through the report. There were plans for retail and office space, luxury condos—condos?—and a multi-level parking structure. Architectural drawings showed pyramidal and square brick-and-glass buildings overlooking the beach and a concrete “plaza” lined with stone benches.
“What has the town council said?” she asked.
“As long as it fits all zoning and planning codes, they’re leaving the decision to the Mariposa owners.” Brooke picked up her coffee and stood. “That’s the council’s official statement, at least. Mayor Bowers told me privately she thinks the design is ugly as sin. But she’s kind of stuck because the town council hasn’t budgeted anything to fix up Mariposa for well over thirty years. Now it’s almost too late.”
Almost.
If there was one lesson that had stuck in Aria’s mind over the past year, it was that almost didn’t mean something was done.
Almost meant a narrow escape—but an escape nonetheless.
Almost meant being on the edge—but not over it.
Almost meant there was still a chance.
“I gotta get to the office.” Brooke slung her bag over her shoulder. “You can keep that if you want. Mousehole Friday night?”
“I’ll be there.”
After her friend had gone, Aria glanced at the contact information on the Imperial Properties’ report. She pulled up an email window on her old laptop and typed a message to Bruce Sinclair, CEO.
Dear Mr. Sinclair,
Prior to the forthcoming vote at the Mariposa Business Association meeting, I would like to inform you that I decline to sell my building to Imperial Properties.
Sincerely,
Ariadne Prescott, Owner
Meow and Then Cat Café
Send.
There. At least they’d know her decision was final.
Picking up several pieces of colored chalk, she climbed a stepladder to reach the chalkboard hanging on the brick wall behind the counter. She erased the list of yesterday’s baked goods offerings and began writing down the treats she’d picked up from Sugar Joy that morning.
The cat-shaped wind chimes above the door jingled, signaling her first customer of the day. With a smile, she turned…and almost toppled off the stepstool in shock.
“Whoa.” Hunter bolted around the counter at light-speed as she teetered precariously. He grabbed her. “Careful.”
Aria clutched the edge of the chalkboard to steady herself. Her heart raced. Sudden warmth bloomed through her veins, hot and hard.
He hadn’t just grabbed her…he was holding her. One of his big hands was pressed to her hip, and the other was gripping her waist. And his strong arm was tucked right up against her rear end, which she didn’t find disturbing in the least.
He also appeared to be in no hurry to let go.
Swallowing hard, Aria found her voice. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” He released her and stepped back.
Did he just slide his hand over her hip? Like he was lingering?
Aria put the chalk back into the tray and climbed down the ladder. A combination of excitement and wariness bubbled up inside her. She didn’t quite know how to feel about the fact that Hunter was standing in her café. She’d thrown herself at him last night because she’d thought they’d never see each other again.
Okay, she’d also wanted desperately to kiss him properly, but still… She wasn’t a spontaneous, leap-and-plant-one-on-an-almost-stranger kind of girl.
What was he doing here? Had he looked her up?
“Welcome to Meow and Then.” Forcing her business persona back into place, she grabbed a dishcloth and wiped her hands before turning to face him.
Oh, mercy.
Last night at the inn, he’d first been a grumpy and strikingly gorgeous specimen of disheveled masculinity. Then, with his sculpted torso and bulging biceps on full display, he’d been a walking advertisement for any product or sport that needed to feature a seriously hot half-naked man.
And now? In a navy Armani suit, clearly tailored just for him, and a perfectly knotted silk tie, with his dark hair brushed back from his forehead and his clean-shaven face emphasizing his strong features, he was…
Wow.
“Hi.” She rubbed her throat, unaccountably warm. “Again.”
“Hi again.” A smile tugged at his mouth. He picked up a briefcase and clipboard that he’d dropped and set them on the counter. “How’s Porkchop?”
“Sleeping. I think he wore himself out last night. Though he’s known for enjoying his bed quite a bit anyway.”
“Hmm.” His forehead furrowed. “I can relate.”
“Me too.”
A current of heat sizzled between them. Her breathing grew shallow. Could Destiny have been right? About the cat spirits and no coincidences and all that?
She ran her hands self-consciously over her apron. In the light of day, everything about Hunter—from his tailored designer suit to his expensive leather briefcase—clashed with her rolled-up, holey skinny jeans and loose tank-top. Even his dark hair was impeccably combed with not a strand out of place, while her messy mane was barely holding on to a bun.
“So you work here.” He indicated the array of cat items and the little Japanese luck cat on the counter. “Looks like you can’t get away from cats.”
“I wouldn’t want to.” Aria pulled in a breath and tried to calm her jumping heartrate. “What are you doing here?”
“I stopped by to talk to the owner.”
She blinked. “You are.”
He went still. His attention sharpened and his shoulders tensed. “What?”
“You already are.”
“I already am what?”
“Talking to the owner.”
“No.” He grabbed the clipboard and flipped a few pages. “I’m looking for an…oh, shit. You’re Ariadne Prescott.”
“Yes.”
And you’re Glowering Stranger who ended up being nice enough to rescue my mutinous cat, then insisted on making sure I was warm and dry while you made coffee. You’re the tall, strong man with muscles that look carved from stone who kissed me so gently it felt like a leaf brushing across my lips.
He cursed again, his mouth compressing. He tossed the clipboard back onto the counter. An invisible shield slammed in front of him, dissolving their encounter last night and making him suddenly remote.
Unease twisted in Aria’s gut. Why was he so shocked?
Abruptly, he turned away and narrowed his eyes on the glass door leading to the Cat Lounge, which was still covered by a window blind. His laser-sharp gaze took in the surroundings with one glance—the cat-themed mugs and greeting cards, the framed cat paintings, the cat-shaped cookies.
Was he judging her for owning a cat café? Obviously, he—
Her heart stuttered.
He rubbed the back of his neck. The movement caused his sleeve to ride up, revealing a silver cufflink attached to his crisp French cuff. A gold Rolex was wrapped around his wrist.
—was a successful corporate businessman.
Darkness encroached on her, like a thick layer of marine fog blocking out the sunlight. She grasped the edge of the counter.
“Why do you need to talk to me?” she asked. “The owner me, I mean. Ariadne Prescott.”
He didn’t respond. His back was to her, his spine stiff.
“Why do you need to talk to her?” Aria raised her voice, her unease deepening. “To me.”
Hunter turned, his expression implacable, but his jaw tight. “I’m here on business.”
The cloud darkened. “What kind of business?”
“You received a letter and contract from our company recently.” He pinned her to the spot with the intensity of his gaze. “I’m Hunter Armstrong, Vice-President of Imperial Properties.”
Shit wasn’t a strong enough word.
Aria’s breath escaped in one hard rush. Disappointment stabbed her. She lowered her head and concentrated on wiping down the pristine counter so she wouldn’t have to look at him.
Last night had been a roller-coaster unlike any she’d experienced before—from her huffiness with Glowering Stranger to her kisses with Hunter, who’d captured her against his chest so tightly that she’d felt his heart beating against hers. She’d experienced all the lovely, intense flutterings and shivers of physical attraction that she hadn’t felt in longer than she could remember.
No, she hadn’t expected to see him again. But she had expected to enjoy the memory of that crazy wonderful night for the rest of her life, like a chapter in a favorite book that she would re-read again and again.
And not in a million years would she have expected her hot cat-rescuer to be…
The enemy.
Chapter 5
Nice one, universe, Aria thought. I so appreciate being the butt of a cosmic joke. And by the way, those rainbows everyone oohs and ahhs about? Totally overrated.
This was payback for leaping into Hunter’s arms and kissing him like she was a starving woman and he was a big gooey piece of chocolate cake. Or like she was a woman who’d just eaten a substantial dinner, and he was still the cake.
Because…cake.
Steeling her spine, she lifted her head and looked him in the eye. He was watching her, his eyes dark and guarded.
“I need to ask you to leave, Mr. Armstrong.” Somehow, she managed to keep her voice steady.
“Hunter.” His mouth tightened. “I’d like to discuss our offer.”
“I’m sure you would. I, however, want nothing to do with your offer.”
He folded his arms. With his wide stance and hard-set features, he looked like the epitome of
a corporate tycoon who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.
Who was she kidding? He was that corporate tycoon. Too bad for her and her hormones that she’d been so entranced by his hotness...okay, and the fact that he’d been good enough to chase after her cat in a storm…that she hadn’t sensed the greed simmering in his blood. Or the fact that he was exactly the kind of man she needed to stay miles away from.
“Look.” He held up one hand. “Last night was a…fluke. If we put it aside and approach this objectively, I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”
Really?
“You want to put aside the fact that you kissed me.” Her belly tensed as she fought back the visceral sensation of his arms locking around her.
“When discussing the contract, yes.” His gaze slid to her lips, his eyes darkening. “It would complicate things.”
Sharp disappointment stabbed her again. He was that kind of man. The kind who could shut down his emotions like turning off a faucet. The kind who compartmentalized his business and personal lives. The kind who approached things with rationality and cold objectivity.
“By all means, let’s put the fluke of our encounter aside.” Her tone grew icy. “In fact, let’s pretend it didn’t even happen. No need to mention it again. I still have no intention of discussing your offer.”
“You didn’t own this building when Imperial first offered a buyout a couple of years ago.” He stepped closer. “But you should know that the current terms are infinitely more favorable and well over the fair market value of the property. You would easily be able to relocate somewhere with more foot traffic and a much better environment.” He scanned the wall behind her and squinted at the shuttered door leading to the Cat Lounge. “A cat-themed café would go over well with the college crowd, I imagine. You could reopen over on Kensington Street.”
“I’ve no intention of reopening anywhere else.” Aria tightened her grip on the dishtowel. “I’ve worked very hard to establish the café right here.”
His mouth twisted. “And how’s business?”