Southern Comforts

by Nan Dixon

  “It’s always been a problem for us. I need more than we have to keep expanding Fitzgerald House, to achieve my goals.” She sighed. “Your sister said something strange to me.”

  “That’s Courtney for you.” Gray trailed more kisses on her silky shoulder. “What did the brat say?”

  Her back stiffened. “That you wanted to acquire Fitzgerald House.”

  Damn Courtney. “I don’t want to acquire Fitzgerald House.”

  “It was just so strange.” Abby turned, her face serious. “Why would she say something like that? Because of Gwen?”

  “I can’t even guess my sister’s motives.” Courtney was too close to the truth, but now wasn’t the time to share that. He wanted to give Abby the good news all at once. “This trip was supposed to be fun. I don’t want to talk about money or business.”

  He slipped his hands inside her dress and pushed it down. “Nice. Very nice.”

  She stepped out of the dress and bent to pick it up off the floor. A flash of cleavage from her white bustier had him almost swallowing his tongue. The dusky color of her nipples beckoned to him. More lace led down to a triangle of white that hid heaven.

  She gave a little spin. “This is Dolley’s idea of underwear, a gift to me. I’ve never worn a garter in my life. What do you think?”

  He pulled her close and kissed her. Curls of desire seared through him, burning away his worry. “I love it.”

  Gray wanted this woman. Coming to Boston hadn’t changed that. He stroked his tongue inside her mouth, craving her sweetness.

  She pushed off his shirt. Her fingers kneaded his muscles, pulling him closer. “I need you.”

  Her words were like gasoline on the flames. The bustier pushed her breasts up so they crested over the top. He suckled them and then raked his teeth on her lace-covered nipples.

  Abby’s sharp breath sent those breasts pillowing around his lips. Her hands tugged at his belt and pants.

  By the time their clothes disappeared, Gray could barely draw in a breath. He set her on the edge of the bed. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and he plunged.

  Too much, too fast. “Oh, God, Abby.”

  He captured her thighs, trying to hold on. She lifted her hips, forcing him deeper.

  “Damn it, move,” she cried.

  He rolled his hips, a small action. She moaned. He slid into her heat and then out. Her body arched off the bed on a whimper.

  She bucked against him. “Faster.”

  Her climax squeezed around him, and still he controlled the pace and the pressure.

  “Stay with me.” He leaned over, rolling her nipples between his fingers. She squeezed him with her inner muscles, the exquisite force causing him to lunge more quickly.

  With his teeth clenched, he locked his gaze on hers and shouted as he came.

  His arms collapsed and his breath whooshed in and out.

  Her fingers tangled in his hair as if she wouldn’t let him go.

  He wanted to be with Abby every night for the rest of his life. Boston hadn’t changed his mind. It had opened his eyes. Savannah wasn’t the draw. It was Abby.

  “I...” He stopped.

  “Mmm?” she murmured.

  “Go to sleep.” He wanted to tell Abby he loved her, but something held him back. Maybe once he’d confirmed all his plans. He’d help her with her mortgage and with Carleton House. He’d prove he was good enough for her.

  She shivered and cuddled into his chest.

  “Are you cold?” He rolled so they lay nose to nose.

  “Aftershocks. That was some earthquake.” She traced a finger down his cheek.

  “Are you saying I rocked your world?”

  She kissed his lips. “Oh, yeah, you rocked it all right.”

  Gray pulled her back against his chest. Abby’s breathing slowed as she fell asleep. The fire crumbled into embers.

  Only then did Gray whisper, so softly that even if she’d been awake she never would have heard him, “I love you, Abigail Adams Fitzgerald. What are we going to do about that?”

  * * *

  ABBY SLAPPED HER hand on her alarm, but it wasn’t on the nightstand. She pushed her hair out of her eyes. Had she knocked it on the floor?

  Confused, she sat up. Nothing was familiar.

  Gray’s bedroom. She pulled up the sheet to cover her nakedness. Wow. Last night had been...wow.

  It wasn’t an alarm, it was her phone ringing. She snatched it up, hoping Gray wouldn’t wake. The screen read Dolley. And it wasn’t even six. “Yes?”

  “Can you talk?” Dolley’s voice sounded...off.

  Something had happened. Abby had left Fitzgerald House and something bad had happened. “Give me a minute.”

  She pulled open the bathroom door and grabbed Gray’s robe. It dragged on the floor as she snatched her phone and hurried into Gray’s office, closing both doors behind her.

  “What happened?” Dread filled the pit of her stomach. “Why are you calling me so early? Is someone hurt?”

  “No. I haven’t been to bed yet—a client’s website got hacked.”

  “Nothing’s wrong with the B and B?”

  “Nothing happened at the B and B, but Lennertz left me a voice mail on Friday. I just listened to it.”

  Today was Sunday. “Did they approve our loan?” She clutched the robe around her. “Can we make an offer on Carleton House?”

  “This isn’t about Carleton House.” Dolley dragged out her words.

  “Just tell me.” Abby’s hand squeezed into a fist.

  “Has Gray said anything...” Dolley took a deep breath before continuing, “Did he tell you he was buying our mortgage?”

  “What?”

  “He bought our mortgage.”

  “Bought our mortgage?” Even when Abby repeated the words, they didn’t make sense.

  “He didn’t say anything to you?” Dolley asked again.

  “Not a word.”

  Last night he’d assured her he wasn’t interested in acquiring Fitzgerald House. How could he have lied to her like that?

  “Why would he buy our mortgage?” Dolley asked.

  Abby’s head spun. Courtney had warned her to question Gray’s motives. His father had mentioned investing in Fitzgerald House. Did Gray plan to take them over? “I don’t understand.”

  “I didn’t want to ruin your vacation....” Dolley’s voice trailed off.

  “No! You were right to call. I’ll take care of it.” Somehow. “I’ll be home today.”

  Dolley probably said goodbye, but Abby had clicked off her phone.

  Gray owned their mortgage.

  Why? Why would he do this behind her back? Why had he lied to her?

  Her breath caught in her chest.

  She’d been blinded by lust. Gray was just another man, like her father and Maurice, ruining her plans. How could she be so stupid?

  And he’d done everything in secret. Her chest ached. Fitzgerald House was just one more business transaction to Gray.

  Her hand shook as she covered her mouth, holding in a scream. He’d slipped so easily into her life. And she’d let him. She’d shared Fitzgerald House’s financials and the projections, discussed her plans and hopes.

  Black spots shimmered at the edge of her vision. She set her head down on the papers on his desk. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. Every time she let a man into her life, he destroyed her. Her father had smashed their family under a mountain of debt. Maurice had sworn he would be her partner, in life and the restaurant, then had thrown away her love to sleep with another woman.

  Now Gray. His betrayal was the worst. He threatened the very foundation of her life—Fitzgerald House.

  Tears slid down her face and splashed on the papers unde
r her cheek. She was an idiot.

  She needed home. She sat up, but the paper she’d cried on stuck to her cheek. She peeled it away and set it back in the center of his desk.

  As she pushed herself out of the chair, the name Carleton caught her eye.

  No.

  She scanned the document, her heart pounding in her ears. Purchase agreement. For Carleton House.

  Gray had made an offer on Carleton House.

  That goddamn two-faced conniving Yankee.

  * * *

  THERE WAS A bump and bang. Gray jerked and rolled over, searching for Abby.

  Her side of the bed was empty. He opened his eyes. Why wasn’t she in bed? She didn’t have to get up and cook breakfast.

  The bang came again. This time from the closet. “Abby?”

  Another thud, but she didn’t answer.

  He scrubbed his hand on his face. What was up with her?

  He pulled on sweatpants and headed to the closet. “What are you doing?”

  She had her back turned to him, clothes balled in her hands. “Packing.”

  “We don’t leave until tomorrow.” He tried to grab her hand. “Come back to bed.”

  She wrenched away from him. “I’m leaving today.”

  Even with sleep crusting his thoughts, he took a step back. What the hell had happened? “What’s wrong?”

  Her head snapped around, and her green eyes shot kryptonite at him.

  “When were you going to tell me?” she fired at him.

  “Tell you what?”

  “You bought our mortgage.” She tossed a shoe in her bag.

  How did she know? This wasn’t how she was supposed to find out. He’d wanted to take her out for dinner with champagne and candlelight. Who had told her? “Did Lennertz talk to one of your sisters? Is that how you found out?”

  He moved closer, but she shot a hand out like a stop sign.

  “I planned to tell you.” The words rushed out. “I planned to tell you once I had everything in place.”

  Her eyes seemed to burn holes into him. She swallowed and straightened her shoulders. “Everything,” she choked out. “You mean taking over our mortgage and buying Carleton House.”

  His eyes flared open. “You’re not supposed to know about that. Not yet.”

  “Yet? Is that why you lied last night?”

  “I didn’t lie. I’m not acquiring you.”

  “Semantics. Why should I believe anything you say?” She took in a deep breath. “Tell me, when is the best time to tell a takeover target who you’re sleeping with that you’ve acquired their mortgage and the property they wanted?”

  She didn’t wait for his answer. The rasp of her suitcase’s zipper filled the room.

  “That’s not how it was.” Panic bucked like a bronco in his chest. “I wanted to have everything in place and then take you to dinner so we could celebrate.”

  “Celebrate?” She swore. “Why would I celebrate the mighty Grayson Smythe trying to take over the Fitzgeralds?”

  She dropped her suitcase, and it smacked his leg.

  “I was going to tell you. Later.” How had he lost control of this situation? She was supposed to be thrilled.

  “Are you taking over Fitzgerald House?” Her words seemed calm. Her eyes—not so calm.

  “No. No!” He shook his head. “It’s not like that.”

  He couldn’t stand the chasm growing between them. He moved closer, but she jerked away.

  “Goddamn Wayne. Did he call you? He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. This was a secret.”

  He wanted to wrap his hands around Lennertz’s throat. Abby was looking at him as though she despised him. If he’d been a bug, she would’ve ground him under her heel.

  “I did this for you, to make your life easier.” He had to reach her, to explain. “Lennertz was holding you back. That’s why I bought your mortgage.”

  “And Carleton House? How can you justify that?”

  “I’ve only made an offer on Carleton House. It hasn’t been accepted.” He held out his hand, hoping she would take it. “I wanted to help you. You weren’t ever going to get a loan. Not with Lennertz standing in your way.”

  “You’re delusional if you think I’ll believe you did any of this to help us. I’m not that naive.” Her eyebrows formed a straight, fierce line. “Is this a cheap way to get your hand on more property?”

  “No! Is that what you think of me? You think I’d do that to you?”

  “I have no idea what you’d do to me. You bought our mortgage and made an offer on the house we planned to buy. Behind my back.” Her green gaze drilled into his. “I asked you a direct question last night and you lied to me! Lied! I don’t know who you are.”

  Gray cursed. How had everything gone to hell? He held his hand across the breach forming between them. “I did this to help you.”

  “I don’t need your help. My family doesn’t need your help.” Her voice cracked. “We’re fine on our own. Whatever we need to do, we’ll do as a family.”

  He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her until they were no longer fighting. “I’ve got money. And you need it. You’re so stubborn, you can’t even see I’m trying to help you.”

  “I don’t want your help. Every time I’ve trusted a man with my dreams, they’ve failed me. I don’t trust you.”

  He threw his hand up in the air. “You’re barely hanging on. This is the first vacation you’ve taken in years. I know. I asked Bess.”

  “That’s my business, not yours.”

  And that was the problem. She wouldn’t let anyone help her. He pointed a finger in her face. “And your business is killing you. And it’s your fault because you won’t accept help.”

  “My sisters and I can solve our own problems. We don’t need some rich man swooping in and saving us. We’re fine. We’re more than fine.” A tear streaked down her cheek, and she swiped at it. “Fitzgerald House is my concern. My problem. I... We don’t need your money.”

  “What if I want to help?” His gut twisted. “What if I want more?”

  “More? Like not just the mortgage but all of Fitzgerald House? Never.” Her sunset curls bounced as she shook her head. “You’ll never take my home.”

  “I don’t want your home.”

  “Actions speak louder than words.” More tears trickled down her cheek. The devastation in her eyes frightened him. “I’m going back to Savannah. I’m going home.”

  “Abby.” This couldn’t be happening. “Stay. Please.”

  “We’re done.” She wheeled her bag around him.

  Desperate, he blurted out, “I’m in love with you.”

  She stopped. Her shoulders shook. When she turned around, pity filled her face. “You can’t buy my love, Gray. That’s not how it works. It’s something I would have given freely.”

  Panic bubbled inside his chest like lava in a volcano ready to blow. “I’m not trying to buy your love.”

  She didn’t even stop on her way to the door.

  He ripped a hand through his hair. He’d been trying to help her, for God’s sake, and she’d thrown everything back in his face. He’d told her he loved her. He had the money. He could fix her problems. Why wouldn’t the stubborn woman let him help?

  “Abby.” He hurried after her, grabbing the suitcase out of her hand. “Don’t leave like this.”

  “I can’t stay.” Her quiet words cut as deadly as her chef knife into his heart.

  Words wouldn’t keep her here. He set her bag by the front door when he really wanted to toss the damn thing through a window. “I’ll have the plane take you home.”

  She sat in his living room, her back stiff and straight. He made the calls, roused the pilot and lined up cars.

  This couldn’t
be the end.

  Abby would realize that he’d done all of this for her. She’d come around.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Rule #32—Smile until your cheeks hurt.

  Abby Fitzgerald

  GRAY CLOSED HIS LAPTOP. “That’s everything I wanted to review.”

  It was good he’d stayed in Boston. After the past three days, his temper had cooled—a little. Problems with the Lexington strip mall had kept his mind off Abby—for a while. He might have been able to handle the Boston problems from Savannah, but the fewer phone calls the better. His subcontractors needed to know he still ran his business.

  Abby. What was she doing? His chest ached. Did she wonder where he was? If he was coming back?

  Nothing could stop him from returning. She would just have to deal.

  Phillips, his senior project manager, set his heels on Gray’s desk. “I’ve been saving some news.”

  Gray took a sip of his coffee and almost spit it back out. Damn, Abby’s coffee had ruined him for all others. “What news?”

  Phillips grinned. “It’s a rumor.”

  Gray couldn’t even smile. “Spill.”

  “The Whaler is finally hitting the auction block.”

  “No way. Old man Forenaught died?”

  “No, but he’s been unloading properties.”

  Gray pushed away from the desk and paced his office. He’d made an offer on the property three years ago and been snubbed. He wanted to take the Back Bay warehouse and turn it into high-end condos. He had the vision. He had the staying power. “Is he using a broker or doing a direct sale?”

  “Do you really think Forenaught is going to let someone have a percentage of this sale?”

  “So he’ll use his grandson.” Gray snapped his finger. “The attorney. The one who’s such a golf fanatic. Nathan. No, Nathaniel. That’s it. Nathaniel Forenaught.”

  And the guy had gone to Roxbury Latin with him. A couple of years ahead, but they’d played lacrosse together. “I think I’ll dust off my golf clubs.”

  * * *

  NATHANIEL WAS MORE than willing to hit the links the next day. On the third tee, a par three, they waited for the group in front of them to finish on the green.