by Nina Lindsey
“None of your business.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and folded her arms, matching his I’m a tycoon stance. “I said you need to leave.”
“I heard what you said.” He stepped closer, his broad shoulders blocking the view of the street. Suspicion gleamed in his eyes. “Where’s the contract?”
She lifted her chin. “In the trash where it belongs.”
“Did you read it?”
“Of course. My answer is still no.”
He studied her for a long minute with that penetrating stare that made her want to squirm with discomfort.
“All of the other shop owners will vote to sell,” Hunter said. “And if you don’t, you’ll be left on your own. When I have an eighty percent hold on this district, town law says I can force you to sell at less than the fair market value.”
Aria’s heart stuttered. She’d known she would be pushed into a corner, but could he legally make her sell?
“You can’t force me to do anything, Mr. Armstrong. No one can.”
He held up both hands, as if in surrender. She wasn’t fooled. He didn’t look as if he’d ever surrendered to anyone in his life.
“I’ve corresponded with most of the other owners on this street,” he said. “They’re more than ready to relocate or take an early retirement and say goodbye to the countless problems that come with owning an old property. Five have already agreed to sign the contract.”
Ducking her head, Aria scrubbed at a spot on the counter. She hadn’t known that several other owners had already committed.
Hunter must have intimidated or coerced them into agreeing. His good looks weren’t that intoxicating. Okay, maybe they were, but most of her fellow store owners were well beyond the hormonal whiplash she was currently experiencing.
“They can’t officially sign until the vote at the Mariposa Business Association meeting,” he continued. “But I’m confident that they will.”
Aria bit her lip. This was why he was in Bliss Cove—to sweet-talk people into selling or bulldoze them if they resisted. Either way, he hadn’t come here to lose.
She didn’t intend to lose either. Not anymore.
“Aria.” Flattening his hands on the counter, he leaned in toward her. “Any property lawyer will tell you this is an excellent offer.”
“I don’t care what property lawyers will tell me.”
“This street is dying,” Hunter said. “Hell, it’s already dead…and though you might have some success, I guarantee you it won’t last. Especially when the other businesses start shutting down.”
A knot of anxiety formed in her stomach. Much as she wanted to believe in herself and her decision, she knew he was right. It was all well and good to root for the underdog and to believe that heart and community would prevail over corporate greed, but money talked. Power was power. And men like Hunter Armstrong didn’t give up.
However, she had the home field advantage. She owned this building and land. She’d known most of the other shop owners for years. She considered them friends. Her family had deep roots in Bliss Cove. She’d finally found something she was good at. So if anyone could go head-to-head with Imperial Properties and win, it was Aria Prescott.
At least, that was what the uplifting movie trailer playing in her head was saying.
“Mr. Armstrong—”
“Hunter.”
“You need to leave. Now.” Turning on her heel, she opened the door of the Cat Lounge to make a swift exit.
“I’ll go,” he said. “But we’re not done here.”
“Yes, we are.”
“If you—” He stopped.
A plaintive meow echoed through the open door from the adjoining room. Aria started to close the door so the cats wouldn’t escape. Hunter’s gaze shot to the gray tabby poking his head out of the lounge.
“What’s that?” he demanded.
“A cow.” Aria bent to pick up the cat. She strode into the Cat Lounge, closing the door behind her, and pulled up the blinds on the glass door and the window separating the lounge from the front room.
Hunter stared into the lounge, where thirteen cats sashayed, jumped, lolled, and licked various body parts. He opened the door, his eyes narrowing.
“What are all these cats doing in here?”
Aria blinked, momentarily confused by the idiotic question. “This is a cat café.”
She gestured to the logo above the register and all the feline decorations in the storefront. Had he not even bothered to look into what businesses he was trying to demolish?
“I thought that meant it was a cat-themed café. Not that you have actual live animals here.” A deep V formed between his eyes. “How many are in here?”
“I usually have between twelve and fifteen total, depending on adoptions. Porkchop is one of them. Could you close the door, please?”
He stepped into the room and shut the door. “Adoptions?”
“All of the cats are available for adoption.” Aria scratched Jumbo’s ears and nuzzled the tabby’s head. “That’s one of the reasons I started the café. I was doing a lot of pet care and dog-walking, and my friend Sue over at the Rescue House shelter mentioned that they were getting overcrowded with cats. I’d heard of cat cafés in Japan, and I’ve worked for years at my mother’s bakery over on Dandelion Street, so I looked into the logistics of opening a cat café here.” She spread her arm out to indicate the lounge. “This building and this street turned out to be the perfect place for one.”
Still frowning, he regarded the old, one-eyed cat crouched under a table. The cat glared at him through his single, slitted yellow eye, his torn ear quivering.
“That’s Fang.” Aria experienced a rush of defensiveness, in case Hunter was internally judging the cat’s unfortunate appearance. “He’s had a rough life.”
“Having animals in a café has got to be a health code violation.”
“Not when the cats are separated from the food service area. Guests can take food into the Cat Lounge, but they’re two distinct areas.”
“Why would anyone want to eat with a bunch of cats running around?”
Aria tried to hold on to her temper. She’d gotten the sense last night that he wasn’t a fan of cats, but she’d also attributed that to the circumstances—cold rain, being “annoyed the crap out of,” a defiant Porkchop—rather than a life philosophy.
But given the disapproval and faint disgust etching his strong features at the moment…Hunter was no friend of felines.
“This may be a foreign concept to you, but a lot of people love cats.” She set Jumbo down and planted her hands on her hips. “Playing with them and just being around them can be very soothing and relaxing. And if a guest finds a cat they connect with, then I help facilitate the adoption process.”
He peered at another cat who’d leapt onto a table. “There is no way this is sanitary.”
“It’s entirely sanitary. All of the cats have regular check-ups and vaccinations, and I keep the café in spotless condition. Guests are required to take off their shoes before entering the lounge…you are violating that policy, by the way…and are not allowed to share food and drinks with the cats.”
“So Porkchop isn’t actually your cat.”
“He’s an orphan who needs a forever home.”
“A what?”
“A home with a loving, caring family where he can live happily for the rest of his life.” She knelt to try and coax Fang out from under the sofa. The cat hissed at her. “All of the cats are looking for forever homes, and they’ll stay here until they’re adopted. I assure you I’ve done my due diligence and have my business license for this establishment. Everything is up to code.”
“From what I hear, the building codes on Mariposa Street are a mess because no one knows how to handle modernizing old structures. And no thanks to small-town politics, half the shops on this block look like they haven’t been inspected in decades.”
“Small town doesn’t equal stupid,” Aria snapped. “But I’m start
ing to believe big city does equal arrogant asshole.”
A humorless laugh escaped him. “Take the offer, Aria.”
“No.”
“You won’t win.” His eyes narrowed, twin flames of irritation rising in their green depths. “And if you end up selling at a loss, you won’t have the money to reopen somewhere else.”
“I don’t intend to reopen somewhere else. I’m staying right here.”
“You’re making a mistake.”
“Trust me.” She lifted her chin in defiance. “I’ve already made my mistakes. Meow and Then is absolutely not one of them.”
When he still didn’t move, Aria ducked past him and strode to the door. Yanking it open, she gestured sharply to the porch. “Please go.”
For an instant, he didn’t move. She had the sense that he’d stand there forever until he got what he wanted. His hands fisted. A sharp, angry current arced between them.
He strode to the door and stopped in front of her, so close she could smell his aftershave, something deliciously masculine and rich, like bergamot and cloves. The opposite of his wind-and-rain scent from last night, but equally enticing. Her blood warmed, his proximity eliciting a pulse deep inside her.
Tightening her hand on the doorknob, Aria steeled herself against his potent effect. Everything had just changed drastically. Now she had to remind her body that being attracted to the man trying to rip her livelihood away was entirely against the rules.
“I believe I’ve made my position clear, Mr. Armstrong.” She opened the door wider. “And once I make up my mind, nothing can change it.”
“As you said,” he slipped his gaze to her mouth, heat brewing in the depths of his dark eyes, “there’s a first time for everything.”
He strode past her in a rush of good-smelling air before stalking down Mariposa Street. No doubt to continue his invasion to conquer the rest of the shop owners.
Aria closed the door and pressed a hand to her chest. Her heart thumped heavily. Disappointment still seethed inside her, bitter and hot.
Well. That was that. She could still keep The Escape of Porkchop chapter in her heart, leafing through it whenever she needed a reminder of a cosmic joke.
Or a night that had left her warm and fuzzy in more ways than one.
With a sigh, she returned to writing the menu on the chalkboard. It was her own damned fault for not remembering that spontaneity was a bitch.
Chapter 6
A hundred curses blistered Hunter’s brain. He pulled into a parking spot on Starfish Avenue near the Bliss Cove town hall. A three-person band was playing in the gazebo on the square, and the cheerful strains of a folk song drifted in the air.
It was a direct contrast to the heaviness in his chest. The anvil-like feeling had started the instant he realized honey-and-sunlight Aria was the Mariposa shop owner most opposed to Imperial’s terms.
Of all the—
Shaking his head, he crossed the flagstone path of the square. The April sun burned through his suit jacket. It shouldn’t matter who Aria was. It wasn’t as if he’d thought he’d see her again. Last night had been a random encounter, one that had no bearing on his reasons for being in Bliss Cove in the first place.
He just had to stop thinking about her with her wet dress plastered to her body and the little stud in her nose glittering in the light. He had to banish the memory of how soft her lips had felt, how she’d tasted like cherries, and how perfectly her curves had fit right up against his chest. He had to ignore the fact that he’d dreamt about her last night.
All of that would only interfere in the negotiation he intended to win.
He needed twelve votes from the fifteen Mariposa owners. He’d already made the mistake of letting Aria get to him. When he was talking to her at the café, he’d forgotten every one of his long-ingrained business tactics. Strategy, timing, planning, a level-headed approach.
Instead, he’d struggled not to be distracted by the fire in her blue eyes and his intense urge to kiss her again. He’d let his frustration get the better of him. That never happened.
Not until now. Not until her.
Pushing an image of her out of his head, he walked into the town hall. The tile-floored front room had a curved reception/visitor’s desk laden with brochures and flyers of local events. An older woman sat behind the desk, her attention on a novel displaying a half-naked couple on the cover.
Hunter stopped and cleared his throat.
“Hello. Can I help you?” She rose to her feet and adjusted her glasses. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. I’d remember. Are you new to town?”
“I’m here on business. I need to look into the city health codes. Is there someone I can talk to?”
“Fred’s not going to be in until ten. Dentist appointment.” She shuffled out from behind the desk. “You’re welcome to look through the code books if you’d like, though. Come with me.”
He followed her to a small room where shelves overflowed with books, binders, and rolled-up plans and maps. He sighed. If this was the town’s filing system, there was no chance they’d digitize their records any time soon.
After the woman pointed out the ordinances and regulations shelf, Hunter spent a frustrating hour looking for evidence of a violation. Not a single rule mentioned cats. Nothing forbade keeping animals in an eating establishment. As long as the food service area remained animal-free, the town didn’t seem to care that Aria was serving sandwiches and coffee amidst hairballs and cat fur.
Grabbing his briefcase, he strode back into the main hall and headed for the doors.
“Don’t forget to join us for the Artichoke Festival this weekend!” The receptionist waved a flyer at him. “Food, music, games, all sorts of things. The mayor is going to judge the pie contest.”
Though Hunter had no interest in either artichokes or festivals, he skimmed the flyer. On the back was a list of participating local vendors.
Including the Meow and Then Cat Café.
He thanked the receptionist and stepped back outside. As he returned to his car, he recalled one of his most important business tactics.
Know your enemy.
And who was the enemy? Anyone who was an opposing force. Especially at a negotiating table.
In all of his property dealings, he made it a point to understand his competitors’ strengths, weaknesses, and especially their motivations. He needed to know why they wanted what they wanted so he could formulate an effective attack strategy. He needed to understand as much as he could about them.
He tucked the flyer into his breast pocket. Every small town had at least one person who was an encyclopedia of town gossip. And if his instincts were right…
“Mr. Armstrong, how lovely to see you!” Mrs. Higgins, innkeeper of the Outside Inn, hurried across the dining room to greet him.
A spry, white-haired older lady with twinkling blue eyes, she’d informed Hunter when he first arrived that she’d lived in Bliss Cove for forty years, had twice won the town’s Best Tulip competition, considered NSYNC far superior to the Backstreet Boys, and would forever be #teampeeta.
“You’re just in time for tea. I serve it every afternoon at four.” She spread her hand out to indicate the round tables, all of which were empty aside from dingy chintz tablecloths and a variety of ceramic teapots. “I have a chocolate fudge cake and sugar cookies, and I’m serving a special oolong blend tea. I do hope you’ll join us.”
Suspecting that by “us,” she meant, “me,” Hunter nodded. “I would love to.”
Thirty seconds later, he was seated at a table while Mrs. Higgins poured the tea and loaded a plate with a huge slice of cake and five cookies.
“Would you join me?” He indicated the empty seat across from him. “I hate to eat alone.”
“Of course.” Smoothing down her floral apron, she sat across from him. “I’m delighted you’re staying for so long. Oh, I meant to tell you I have a room upstairs available, if you’d like to move. The Zinnia Room, overlooking th
e back garden. My dear Hank, God rest his soul, came up with the idea of calling it the Zinnia Room because zinnias are my favorite flower. He always used to line the front walk with zinnias for me in the summer.”
She rested her chin in her hand, a wistful look crossing her face.
“Thank you, but the Rosebud Room is fine.” He took a sip of the overly sweet tea and tried not to wince.
“Oh, but the TV.” She shook her head, as if reminding herself that the TV in his room didn’t work. “I’ll have Jim bring you the TV from the Zinnia Room, at least.”
“That’s not necessary. I don’t watch TV.”
“Too busy working, hmm?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, you just let me know if you change your mind.” She reached over to pat his arm. “I hope you don’t work so much that you have no time to enjoy our little town.”
“I plan to look around.” He ate a few bites of a cookie. “I’ve heard a lot about the Spanish mission. Is that near the Mariposa district?”
“It’s a couple of miles away, but it’s a lovely walk.” She picked up the teapot and filled his already full cup to the brim. “If you’re in that part of town, be sure to stop at Ruby’s Kitchen. Hank and I used to have a regular date night there every Friday. He had steak, and I always had their chicken pot pie. Then we’d go over to a movie at the Vitaphone, then when we’d treat ourselves to hot fudge sundaes at—”
Hunter cleared his throat. “Isn’t the Vitaphone on Mariposa Street?”
“Yes.” She pushed the plate of cookies closer to him. “Unfortunately, there’s not much to see on Mariposa Street anymore, but some of the old architecture is lovely.”
“Do you know anything about the cat café there?”
“Oh, of course. If you’re a cat lover, you must visit Meow and Then. It’s actually one of the few cat cafés in the entire United States. Aria has a great passion for helping animals.”
Of course she does. That’s why she was chasing an overweight cat through a storm.
“Aria?” He lifted his eyebrows inquiringly.
“Aria Prescott, the owner,” Mrs. Higgins explained. “Lovely girl. Her family has lived here for years. I even remember when Eleanor and Gordon first moved to Bliss Cove.”