by Nina Lindsey
Jackpot.
Hunter took a bite of cake. “This is delicious. Doesn’t Eleanor own a bakery in town?”
“Sugar Joy, yes. I’m not surprised you’ve heard of it.” She gave a little laugh. “Eleanor supplies all the baked goods for most town events. It’s not a Bliss Cove party if Sugar Joy isn’t involved.”
“It sounds like a town institution.”
“Oh, it is. It’s hard to believe Eleanor ever considered closing it down, but she did.” A frown curved her mouth. “She and her girls had a rough time after Gordon Prescott passed away. She came close to shutting down Sugar Joy, but they pulled through and have been doing very well this past year.”
Hunter’s shoulders tensed. “What happened to Gordon Prescott?”
“Car accident.” Mrs. Higgins clicked her tongue and shook her head sadly. “Terrible, and so unexpected. Over a year and a half now. He was a professor at UC Santa Cruz for years…Greek and Latin languages or something like that…but he’d retired. Eleanor and the girls were devastated, of course. Callie…she’s the oldest...was a rock in the aftermath, taking care of all the details and plans. Thankfully they had help at the bakery, a lovely young woman named Kate, and Rory moved back from San Jose to help out. She’s one of those high-tech computer programmers or whatever, and her coming back was huge. Bit of a surprise that she’s still here after all this time.”
“What about Aria?”
“I’m not sure.” Her forehead creased. “She moved away for a while after her father passed. We were so glad when she came back. She was always such a ray of sunshine. I was delighted when she opened the cat café. It’s so her, you know?”
Yeah, he knew. Aria radiated an overall pleasure for life, so surrounding herself with people and animals would come naturally.
He struggled to deflect a pang of guilt. He had a job to do, both for himself and for the company. No way would he let Aria distract him, even if he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about her in her tank top and torn jeans. She was so damned sexy that if he wasn’t careful, she could make him forget they were adversaries.
“I’ve been thinking about changing the inn’s no animals policy and adopting a cat from Aria.” Mrs. Higgins pursed her lips in consideration. “Every inn should have a cat, don’t you think? I’d have gotten one years ago, but poor Hank had allergies. Such a shame too because he was the most kind-hearted person and he would have just doted on a cat or a—”
“Mrs. Higgins, this was delicious.” Hunter set his napkin down and pushed away from the table. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Armstrong.” She beamed at him. “I keep cookies on the sideboard all the time, so you just come help yourself whenever you’d like. I want guests to feel at home here.”
Though the words feel at home failed to resonate with him, Hunter nodded his agreement. After thanking her again, he returned to the Rosebud room and pulled up a document on his laptop. He typed what he knew about Aria so far—parents, sisters, history.
He knew other things about her, too. Things no one else needed to tell him.
She has a laugh like a silver bell.
She likes “oat milk” lotion scented with lavender.
Her lips taste like cherries. Her body has curves in all the right places and her skin is smooth as honey.
Her kiss starts an inferno inside you. One that you have no idea how to put out.
Letting out his breath, he tossed the laptop onto the bed and stared out the window at the trail leading to Pelican Beach. All the sappy stuff had to go. He’d had some unexpected fun last night, but in the cold light of day, there was no time for fun.
He had a job to do, and he never failed. Especially when he had so much at stake.
By the time he was finished getting to know his opponent, he’d be able to write a damned book about her.
Chapter 7
Aria wove her way around the crowded tables of the rustic Mousehole Tavern, where she and her friends got together for drinks and gabbing most Friday nights. Lanterns decorated all the wooden tables, and a long bar curved through one side of the room.
Brooke, Destiny and Rory had already secured a booth near the massive stone fireplace dominating the wall opposite the bar.
“Is he kidding me with this?” Aria plunked herself next to Destiny and slammed her hand on the table.
“Is who kidding you with what?” Rory glanced at her, one eye still on the screen of her phone. “I cannot believe Grant still doesn’t have this place wired for Wi-Fi.”
“Hunter Armstrong. He’s the Imperial VP trying to strong-arm all the Mariposa owners.” Aria huffed out a breath, secretly pleased by her word play. “He thinks he can bribe us into selling our property to him. Well, I will not be bribed.”
“Atta girl.” Grant, the chestnut-haired, stubble-faced owner of the Mousehole, set Aria’s usual mojito in front of her and extended his fist. “That complex will lead to a bunch of problems we don’t want.”
“Are you coming to the Mariposa Business Association meeting?” After bumping his fist with hers, Aria pulled the drink toward her. “Even though you’re not officially in the district, I could use the support when the owners all vote.”
“I’ll be there.” Grant set his hands on his hips and frowned. “I saw the plans for Oceanview. Automatic fountains and a skywalk? What the hell does a place like this need that for?”
“Grant, you’re my hero.” Aria smiled. Though Grant had only moved to Bliss Cove a few years ago, he’d established a large degree of influence and respect among the locals. If word spread that he was opposed to Oceanview, then people would pay attention. “Too bad you can’t actually vote.”
“If Grant were voting, he’d send up a smoke signal.” Rory pushed a lock of long black hair over her shoulder and glanced at Grant, amusement flickering in her navy-blue eyes.
He folded his arms over his chest. “Last I heard, it’s an old-fashioned paper and pencil ballot. Maybe you’ve heard of paper and pencil?”
“Maybe you’ve heard of Wi-Fi?” Rory slouched farther in her seat, her thumbs working swiftly over her phone. “Some customers would prefer bandwidth over your stupid singing fish.”
She jutted her chin toward the mounted, robotic fish hanging behind the bar that sang “Love Me Tender” with the push of a button.
“By some customers, you mean you,” Grant replied.
“I mean anyone who lives in the twenty-first century.”
“Excuse me for interrupting, but we’re hungry,” Brooke announced with a roll of her eyes.
His gaze still on Rory, Grant took out his order pad. After they ordered, and he returned to the kitchen, Destiny patted Aria’s arm.
“I’m certain Hunter is not as bad as you think,” she said. “He doesn’t have a negative aura.”
“He hates cats,” Aria said. “He thinks I’m violating a health code. He’ll probably file a complaint. He’s going to try and hardball me.”
Oh, lord. She took another swallow of her drink as a flush heated her face. If she were a woman with a dirty mind—which sometimes she was—she could interpret that remark in all sorts of ways. Not the least of which involved Hunter hardballing her naked.
Yikes. Screeching, halting full stop.
“Regardless of what you think of Hunter personally, the contract is straightforward and solid.” Destiny sipped her wine. “It’s been reviewed by five different property lawyers.”
Aria sniffed in derision. “Are they on Imperial’s bankroll?”
“I can find out.” Rory tapped the screen of her phone. “Or I can do a deep search on this Armstrong guy. See if he has any dirt you can use against him.”
“Aurora.” Destiny clicked her tongue. “Bad karma.”
“Please. I’ve dealt with a lot of male crap in the tech industry.” Rory set her phone aside. “I guarantee a man like Hunter Armstrong didn’t get to where he is by playing nice.”
Aria didn’t doubt it, even if Hunter had been…we
ll, sort of nice on the night of Porkchop’s escape.
“I’ve done five different readings about this situation.” Destiny sipped her wine. “They all point to a favorable future regardless of the outcome. Everything will work out.”
“Thank you, Pollyanna.” Aria set her glass down unnecessarily hard. While she usually appreciated Destiny’s mystical approach to life, with the knowledge of what she was up against, she was in no mood to believe that the storm clouds gathering on the horizon were about to give way to a rainbow.
Not wanting the shadow of Hunter Armstrong to ruin their evening, she changed the topic of conversation to the upcoming Artichoke Festival. Grant arrived with their food, and they all began eating with murmurs of appreciation.
When Rory left the booth to get a refill of her drink, Aria slipped out of her seat and followed her sister to the bar.
“Hey, Rory, can you really do some digging on Hunter Armstrong?”
“Sure.” Rory leaned her elbows on the bar as Grant set a glass in front of her. “There’s a crap ton of stuff out there that’s not indexed on regular search engines.”
Aria bit her lip, deflecting a stab of guilt. “It’s not illegal, is it?”
“No.” Her sister took a sip of her drink. “Are you sure you want me to, though? Blackmailing isn’t your style.”
Aria frowned. “Why, because I’m so sweet and nice?”
“Well, yeah.”
Smothering a groan, Aria poked her sister in the arm. “For your information, I can be ruthless. And in this case, maybe blackmailing is exactly my style.”
Raising an eyebrow, Rory slanted her a glance. “You’re sure.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you have a rather strong interest in him already.”
A flush heated Aria’s cheeks. She’d always been closer to Rory than Callie, whom she saw as another maternal figure—albeit one she could argue with more readily. As a teenager, she’d often confided in Rory about her loves and losses.
Though Rory was hardly an expert on relationships—always having preferred data over dating—Aria appreciated her sister’s logical input.
But there was nothing logical about her twisty feelings for Hunter, which ran the spectrum from intense dislike to a throbbing attraction she couldn’t escape. Their kisses were imprinted in her mind with indelible ink. She’d dreamt about him last night.
There was no way she could tell Rory about all that.
“Do the deep search,” she told her sister. “And tell me everything you find out about him.”
“Okay, then.” Rory picked up her glass and headed back to the booth. “But be warned. Once you know something, you can’t unknow it.”
After dinner, Aria and Destiny walked back to Mariposa Street. As always, Aria’s spirits rose at the sight of her café. In the window, Jumbo was peering out into the evening dusk, his tail twitching.
“I have something for you.” Destiny dug around in her large beaded purse. She took out a hemp-cord necklace holding a red amethyst pendant. The streetlight glimmered on the rough, jagged edges of the raw crystal.
“Red amethyst bolsters your courage and heals your self-worth.” Destiny fastened the necklace around Aria’s neck. “You need a little extra help now.”
“It’s beautiful.” Aria touched the crystal. “Thank you so much.”
“You know I haven’t made my decision about the contract yet.” A shadow crossed Destiny’s features. “I don’t love the idea of a modern retail complex here, but at the same time, the money they’re offering would allow me to relocate. I could never afford to do that right now. But whatever happens, I don’t want it to come between us.”
“Neither do I.” Aria swallowed her fear that it very well could.
After hugging her friend goodbye, she entered the café. She fed the cats and picked up Jumbo before heading up the narrow staircase to her room.
Jumbo bounded onto the sofa and curled up on his favorite pillow. He was the only cat Aria would never give up for adoption. When she’d walked out on Steve, she’d had her suitcase in one hand and Jumbo in the other.
The cat had given her the courage to finally take the step she’d been too scared to take before. Jumbo had been at her side the entire time she was building her new life.
A life she had to protect.
She sat beside Jumbo and opened her old laptop. She typed Hunter Armstrong into a search engine and perused the results.
Her heart sank a little lower with every word she read. Of course, she’d known he was successful, but the level of his accomplishments surpassed what she had imagined. He’d earned his MBA at Harvard, then worked for several commercial real estate companies before landing an assistant position at Imperial Properties.
He’d skyrocketed up the Imperial Properties ladder by expanding the company’s New York and Chicago holdings and spearheading billion-dollar complexes. He’d won countless awards and appeared on magazine lists of the “Top 25 Property Developers,” “30 Under 30,” and “Best Young Entrepreneurs.”
In addition to numerous publicity photos, there were pictures of him—movie-star handsome in a designer tuxedo—at New York charity galas, theater openings, high-end parties hosted by editors and celebrities.
She opened a new browser window and searched social media sites. Compared to the public information available about him, he appeared to have no social media presence. There was also no mention in his official biographies or anywhere else about his family.
Against her better judgement, Aria typed Steve Redmond into the search box. His work profile as an investment banker showed up first, followed by numerous social media accounts.
She let out her breath. Not even Destiny knew what had gone down with the wealthy financial consultant who’d found her at her lowest point following her father’s death.
The shock of the tragedy and a terrible argument with Callie over the money her father had set aside for her had caused all of Aria’s past failures to crash around her. When she’d distanced herself from her mother and sisters, Steve had swept into the empty space in front of her.
After only a few weeks of knowing him, she’d spontaneously moved halfway across the country to live with him under the mistaken notion that she’d found security. Instead she’d started to lose whatever she had left of herself.
Aria quit the browser and closed her laptop. Jumbo pawed at her thigh. She set the computer aside and scratched his ears. He stretched out on her lap, his warm furry body vibrating with a purr.
She leaned her head against the back of the sofa, trying to suppress a rising sense of hopelessness. She’d needed to use everything she had to walk away from Steve.
And for all her determination, just standing her ground against a man like Hunter Armstrong wouldn’t be enough. Not to mention, she had no idea how to counter Imperial’s billions and their experience with properties all over the—
Manhattan. Tokyo. Chicago. Atlanta. Miami.
With that kind of portfolio, why was Hunter focusing on Bliss Cove?
Chapter 8
What was he supposed to do with her underwear?
As Hunter got ready for his jog the next morning, he caught sight of Aria’s flimsy bra and torn dress still hanging in the bathroom. Yesterday, he’d figured he’d throw them away later, but now that he knew who she was…
Feeling both a little creepy and a lot clumsy, he folded her cotton dress and lacy lingerie and put them on a chair in a corner of the room. Returning them to her would be awkward, not to mention an unwelcome reminder of the other night.
A knock came at the door. He pulled it open to find Mrs. Higgins holding a plate of sugar-drenched French toast and a mug of something that unfortunately wasn’t black coffee.
“Hot cocoa and special marshmallow-chocolate stuffed French toast with raspberry maple syrup.” She pushed past him into the room. “I saw your light on, so I thought I’d bring you a complimentary breakfast since you missed it yesterday. A
good breakfast is such an important start to the day.”
Hunter sighed. He should’ve stayed at the motel out on the interstate, where eggs and black coffee took precedence over a sugar overload.
At the motel, he wouldn’t have encountered a sexy firecracker chasing her cat through the rain, much less helped her out. He didn’t need the distraction of her in his thoughts.
“Thank you, Mrs. Higgins.” He held the door open in the hopes that she’d leave quickly.
“I see you’re working.” She placed the plate and mug on a table. “Do you need extra towels? Pillows? Blankets?”
“Everything is fine, thanks.”
She lifted her eyebrows expectantly. He realized she was waiting for him to try the cocoa. He lifted the mug and took a swallow, barely managing to smile instead of grimace.
“Delicious.”
Mrs. Higgins beamed. “I make it from scratch and add a dash of cinnamon. It was Hank’s absolute favorite. We started serving it to guests over the holidays, but people loved it so much that we decided to serve it year-round with breakfast. Hank would always—”
“It’s really delicious.” Hunter forced himself to take another sip and indicated the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I was heading out for a jog.”
“Oh, of course.” With a little wave, she started into the hall. “Dinner is at seven in the dining room. The chef is making her famous apple-baked ham. When Hank and I were—”
“Thank you, Mrs. Higgins.” Hunter closed and locked the door.
He couldn’t get out of this town fast enough.
As he was attaching his fitness tracker to his arm, his phone buzzed. Juliette Sinclair’s name appeared on the screen. After a brief hesitation, he answered.
“I figured you’d be up already,” she said. “Have you visited the district yet?”
“Yes, and I’m going over there again today.” He tightened his grip on the phone, aware of a shift in the air between them. They’d always had a good professional relationship, and he considered her a friend, but he didn’t know what to do with her implication last week that they should be more.