Saying Yes to the Boss

by Jackie Braun

  Ree could afford none of that right now. She would be lucky to scrape together enough money to pay the taxes when they came due in the fall. Her grandmother’s long illness and then Nonna’s request that both she and her deceased husband’s bodies be interred in the family plot in their native Italy, had depleted not just her grandmother’s bank account but Regina’s limited savings as well.

  Dane lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “That’s cosmetic. The structure appears good.”

  “For the most part,” she agreed. But since the house was all she had left of her family, it pained her to see it in such shabby condition. “It needs new shingles, though, and part of the floor on the side porch is a casualty of dry rot.”

  “Basic maintenance,” he said with another shrug, unaware that Ree had been racking her brain for months trying to figure out how she could afford those necessities. “Get it fixed up and you could turn it into a world-class bed-and-breakfast. The view alone would have customers lining up at the door.”

  “I’ve thought about that,” she admitted.

  She had more than thought about it, actually. But opening her home to paying overnight guests still required an initial investment. It would take money—and a lot of it—to whip the Victorian into the kind of condition it needed to be in to attract high-paying clientele and hire the required staff. In the meantime, the bank wasn’t likely to extend that kind of credit to a woman who had no stable source of income or track record for running such a business.

  It was breaking her heart to think that despite all her efforts, she might wind up selling the place after all.

  Dane’s low whistle pulled her back to the conversation. “Did you know that your banister is made of quarter-sawn oak? They don’t make homes like this grand old lady any longer.”

  “No, they don’t, which is why I don’t want to see it destroyed by some developer who isn’t as interested in preserving history and beauty as much as he is in making a quick buck.”

  “So don’t sell.”

  She wiped her mouth on a napkin as the familiar panic settled in.

  “It’s not that easy. I own the place outright now. My grandmother left it to me when she died. But the taxes…” With a sigh, she slumped against the back of the chair.

  “Steep, I’m sure, especially for this much frontage on Lake Michigan.”

  “And especially for me at the moment.” It galled her to admit, “I’m sort of between jobs.”

  Actually she hadn’t had a steady job in years. During the time she’d tagged around after Paul, she had worked as a freelance writer for a travel magazine. The pay was decent when she sold something, and living out of a tent, or at times a small trailer, had kept expenses pretty minimal. But her journalism degree hadn’t seen much of a workout since she’d returned to Peril Pointe. In any case, even with the aid of a nurse, caring for her grandmother had been a full-time job. Ree now had her résumé in with the local newspaper and a northern Michigan magazine. But even if she secured full-time employment, the aging Victorian with its constant upkeep and eye-popping taxes would remain well beyond her budget.

  Dane watched the shadows play across Regina’s face. She was obviously torn, despite the fact that selling the house would turn a tidy profit for her, assuming there were no sizable liens to be paid off. But Dane could appreciate the sentimental attachment she had to her grandparents’ home, especially since she had nothing left of her family now.

  “So, who’s the developer that’s been sniffing around?” he asked.

  He knew most of the local ones, a lot of whom were genuinely nice people. Maybe he could serve as an intermediary and help Ree work out a solution with the one who had been giving her such a headache.

  “Bradley Townsend,” she replied.

  Dane didn’t realize he’d issued the expletive until Regina glanced at him sharply.

  “Do you know him?”

  Oh, he knew him and he wouldn’t mind going a few rounds in a ring with him. The guy was a snake. A couple of years earlier he had put in a bid on Saybrook’s when it came up for sale. When that hadn’t worked he’d tried to seduce his way into the resort the Conlans had nursed back from the brink of bankruptcy by romancing Dane’s sister, Ali.

  “Watch yourself around him,” Dane warned. “The man has the scruples of an alley cat.”

  “What do you think the gun was for?” Regina asked dryly and her tone had him grinning.

  “I like your style, lady.” He laughed, his gaze lingered on the full lower lip that he’d sucked gently the evening before. Swallowing hard, he said seriously, “I like you, Ree.”

  “Well, I did save your life.”

  “It’s more than that,” Dane insisted. Surely it had to be. He set the fork aside and pushed back his plate so he could lean toward her. “Tell me you don’t feel it.”

  “Dane, about last night—”

  But Dane wanted to get this out. He’d had several hours to consider the new direction he wanted his life to take after being quite literally blown off course on his way over to the mainland.

  “I’d rather talk about this weekend. I have some…loose ends to tie up,” he said, thinking about Julie. He planned to break things off with her that very day, regardless of Ree’s answer. But he hoped her answer would be yes. “I want to see you again, give whatever this is a chance to develop.” She was already shaking her head when he added, “We can take it slow if you’d like.”

  Regina wanted to say yes. She did indeed feel the crazy need or attraction or whatever else it might be that seemed to be constantly buzzing in the air around them. Standing in a darkened bedroom or sitting in a sunlit kitchen, she felt it and it terrified her.

  Besides, as tempting as she found Dane Conlan, the timing for a new relationship was all wrong. Emotionally, so much of her life was in upheaval. And then there was the not so small matter of her marital status. Paul had yet to sign and return the papers that would dissolve a marriage that had been in name only for the past couple years.

  The fault wasn’t only his. Ree had dragged her feet as well. At first, she had not pressed the issue because she’d been so busy tending to her grandmother. Then Nonna had gotten wind of the pending divorce and frail as she’d been, her disappointment had been evident.

  “You’ve made a vow to your husband,” Nonna had told Ree. “You made that vow before God. Salvatore and I had to make plenty of adjustments during the first years of our marriage. All couples do. Promise me you’ll try to make it work.”

  Ree had promised, although she hadn’t tried exactly. But neither had she gone ahead with the divorce in Paul’s continued absence, even though her lawyer had advised her that would be her right.

  Now, how to explain her current not-quite-divorced state to the man whom she had allowed to kiss her so thoroughly the night before? She got up on the pretext of refilling her coffee cup.

  “It’s not as simple as taking things slowly,” she began.

  Dane was on his feet as well, crossing the room until he stood just behind her. He took the mug from her and set it aside. His hands were in her hair then, gathering it up and lifting it away from her neck.

  “I think it can be that simple.”

  His breath heated her skin just before he kissed her nape. Afterward, Ree turned and coherent thought fled when he placed his hands on the countertop on either side of her waist. She was trapped between his solid build and the equally hard surface of the cabinets, a shamelessly eager prisoner. So much for his offer to take things slowly. So much for her decision to rein in her passion. When he lowered his head, she was lost, as swamped as he must have been during his doomed boat ride across from the island.

  God, she wanted him. It was the only reality that registered amid the urgency of his kiss. She gave up, gave in, winding her arms around his neck and holding on fiercely as his hands left the safety of the tiled countertops to caress the small of her back. When his fingers gathered up the hem of her shirt and inched it higher, her body temperatu
re rose as well, spiking feverishly.

  “This is crazy.” She moaned as his good hand worked to free the back clasp on her bra.

  “Insane,” he agreed, nibbling her neck.

  Ree had never felt this desperate, this out of control. Had it been like this for her mother, she wondered dimly before the thought was lost to a fresh surge of desire.

  “I’ve never—”

  Dane’s mouth plundered hers again. “Me, either.”

  “I want—”

  “I know.”

  And she reached down to help him pull her shirt over her head, eager for skin to meet skin.

  From the corner of her eye she spied the man standing on the other side of the kitchen door, his serpentine smile quite evident despite the pane of warped glass. At her hoarse scream, Dane turned as well and then let out a rabid string of curses.

  “I don’t believe it,” he bit out. “Bradley Townsend has a bad habit of turning up where he’s not wanted.”

  Ree wanted to die. Even if the other man had not had a ringside seat to what had just occurred in her kitchen, her swollen lips and the whisker burns on her neck would have been a dead giveaway. More damning, of course, was Dane’s state. The towel he was wearing couldn’t hide his arousal.

  Ree took a deep breath, hoping to regain as much of her composure and dignity as possible. She smoothed down her shirt and tucked her rioting hair behind her ears.

  “Where’s my shotgun when I need it,” she said, muttering curses in Italian as she crossed the room.

  She yanked open the door with an air of authority she didn’t quite feel given the fact her bra was not hooked and her knees still felt like rubber.

  “I think I’ve made it clear you’re not welcome here, Mr. Townsend.”

  “Just checking to see how you weathered the storm.” His capped smile was about as sincere as a shark’s. Then he glanced past Ree and his expression turned even colder and more calculating.

  “Conlan, I’m surprised to see you here.”

  Dane crossed his arms. “Same goes.”

  The other man’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me Saybrook’s is thinking of expanding again?”

  The mention of the Trillium Island resort had Ree confused.

  “Saybrook’s?” She turned her questioning gaze to Dane.

  He spread his hands, the very hands that had just been helping to rid her of her clothing. Why, she wondered, did he suddenly look so guilty?

  “Ree—”

  Townsend was only too happy to fill in the blanks Dane had left so damnably empty. “Didn’t Dane mention that he and his sisters own Saybrook’s? They’ve done a lot of developing on the island since acquiring the old resort a few years back. And here you told me you didn’t care for developers.”

  “Developer? You’re a developer?” Her voice rose, pushed up a number of decibels by sheer disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t be, she told herself. And yet hadn’t she thought Dane Conlan too good to be true? Hadn’t she felt that her reaction to him was not to be trusted?

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Come on, Dane. Don’t be so modest,” Townsend interjected. Turning to Ree, he said, “The Conlans managed to muck up a sweet little deal I had going to buy Saybrook’s. Thanks to an infusion of cash from Luke Banning, they even managed to expand with a golf course on property I had my eye on as well. It looks like he beat me to the finish line here, too. In more ways than one,” Townsend murmured, his gaze lingering on Ree’s heaving chest.

  “Shut up,” Dane snapped.

  Ree’s ears were buzzing, and her stomach felt queasy. “Is…is this true?”

  “Not quite the way he says it. You know as well as I do that Townsend is a liar.”

  The other man shrugged. “What am I lying about? The golf course should be open for business, when, Dane? Late this season or are you waiting till the spring?”

  “Spring,” Dane said between gritted teeth. He held his bandaged hand out to Regina. “He’s making it sound more sinister than it is. He’s a master at manipulating a situation to his advantage. I’m not after your property, Ree. You have to believe that. My showing up here was purely accidental.”

  She relaxed a bit. That was true enough. He hadn’t manufactured a boating accident or the injuries he’d suffered. She would give him the chance to explain.

  But then Bradley Townsend had her feeling poleaxed all over again when he said, “That kiss didn’t look very accidental. I wonder what your fiancée would say, Dane?”

  The breath hissed out from between Ree’s teeth. “You’re engaged?”

  “No. Julie’s not my fianceé.”

  “Julie?” Ree blinked slowly. “So, the woman you are not engaged to is named Julie?”

  “Can we talk about this another time?” he asked, glancing meaningfully in Bradley’s direction. “I would rather explain everything in private.”

  Ree wanted to let him explain, just as she found herself wanting to believe whatever explanation he offered. But she’d had a lifetime of disappointment from men. Part of her had known she shouldn’t have expected more from someone she’d known mere hours. Whether or not this Julie was his fiancée, he obviously knew her well. Yet last night Dane had not mentioned her or any relationship for that matter. Guilt nipped her, since Regina had left out some of the more pertinent details of her personal life as well.

  “Whatever you consider Julie Weston after—what?—a few years of dating, she’s on the dock with your sisters,” Townsend said, only too eager to pour salt in the wounds he’d helped open. “I saw them on my way through town. They were all looking very concerned. Word around town is you’ve been missing all night.” He shook his head and made a tsking sound. “And to think you’ve been here all the while, passing the time…most comfortably.”

  Dane ignored Townsend. “Ree, can we talk about this in private. Please.”

  She shook her head. No amount of talking would change the fact that neither one of them was free to pursue whatever it was the obnoxious developer had interrupted.

  She never thought she would be grateful for Bradley Townsend’s inconsiderate habit of showing up on her doorstep uninvited, but she was glad he had on this day. Things couldn’t progress with Dane. She had no business kissing him like that. She had no business wanting to do so much more. That kind of recklessness had doomed her mother and broken her grandparents’ hearts.

  “I think you should go. Both of you. Now,” Ree said quietly. “Maybe Mr. Townsend will be kind enough to give you a lift back to town or let you borrow his cell phone to call your family.”

  “That’s it?” Dane’s expression reflected the incredulity in his tone. “You’re not going to give me a chance to tell my side of the story?”

  She ignored his question. If he issued an explanation she would feel honor-bound to offer one as well. But what purpose would explanations serve at this point? Ree told herself she was being pragmatic rather than acting cowardly.

  “Your clothes are hanging in the laundry room. They should be dry by now.” She pointed toward the door just off the kitchen. “Goodbye, Dane.”

  Dane watched her leave. He had more pride than to go after her, especially with Townsend enjoying a ringside seat to his humiliation, and so he went in search of his clothing instead.

  No one was in the kitchen when he returned wearing the stiff, stained and ripped garments he’d had on the day before. He found a pen on the countertop and scribbled a message on the back of her electric bill, which he noted was damned close to being past due.

  “Thanks for everything. I’ll be in touch and we will discuss this. Dane.”

  He would call her later. They would get this matter straightened out and put behind them. Surely she would listen to reason once she’d had a chance to cool down.

  In the driveway, Townsend was leaning against his Mercedes, his arms folded and his smile several degrees beyond smug.

  “I’ve got to say, Conlan, you’ve looked bette
r.”

  Unlike Dane’s bedraggled appearance, Bradley’s clothes were spotless and neatly pressed. The guy always looked as if he’d stepped off the deck of a yacht.

  “Go to hell,” Dane muttered.

  “Is that anyway to speak to the man who’s offering you a ride? Unless you’d rather walk back to town.” He snickered and his gaze dropped to Dane’s bare feet.

  “Yeah, I’d rather walk.”

  “Suit yourself.” Bradley opened the Mercedes’s door, but then turned. “By the way, I want to thank you. I wasn’t getting anywhere with Regina, but obviously the woman has a soft side. Maybe I’ve used the wrong approach in my negotiations.”

  Dane swallowed the worst of his rage. “Like she would be interested in scum like you.”

  “Ali was.”

  “Ali was just trying to make Luke jealous. They’re happily married now, as you know.”

  Bradley’s smile turned brittle for a moment before he shrugged negligently. “Well, Regina’s marriage apparently isn’t so happy or she wouldn’t have been considering an affair with you.”

  “M-marriage?” Dane stuttered, too shocked by that verbal bombshell to even consider masking his surprise. “What are you talking about?”

  Townsend’s expression turned gleeful. “I take it she didn’t mention her husband.”

  Dane thought he’d been battered after being tossed around by story-tall waves the evening before, but that was nothing compared to the way he felt right now.

  Glancing back at the house, he thought he caught a glimpse of movement in the stained glass on the front door. Had it really been only a dozen hours ago that he’d knocked on that door to have it swung wide by a guntoting, dark-haired beauty? The weapon had been a shock, but it was Townsend’s claim about her marital status that leveled Dane now.

  He had to be wrong.

  “Ree’s not married.”

  Townsend started his car. Over its engine’s throaty growl Dane could hear his laughter.

  “She didn’t mention that, huh? Well, according to my sources, she is. See you around, Conlan.”