by Skye Taylor
Harold Isaacson crossed the office and peered down at Bree’s book. “Only about half as many people. You have a smaller room?”
“Sure, let me show you.” Bree glanced again at the book. “Several openings in August at the moment. The ballroom is available as well except for two wedding receptions. Of course, those are one day events, Saturday only.” She got to her feet. “Be right back, Sam,” she said to her son who was bent intently over his Kindle Fire.
“Mmmm,” Sam acknowledged absently, never looking up.
“Your son?” Isaacson asked as he followed her out into the hall. “Good-looking kid. Like his mom.”
Bree smiled at the man she’d been doing business with over the last few weeks while his event had been in the planning and organizing stage. “He looks like his dad, actually, but thanks for the compliment.”
One thing Bree didn’t get bent out of shape over was compliments about her appearance. She knew she was a strikingly pretty woman, and she knew heads turned when she passed by. It would be useless to get upset every time a man voiced his appreciation. Besides, Harold Isaacson was always respectful. Too bad he was married. He had the kind of easygoing personality and sense of humor she enjoyed. A lot like Will Cameron.
She shook her head and reached for the doorknob of the smallest of the meeting rooms. What did she really know about Will Cameron’s personality? Good or bad?
“This room is great for more intimate meetings and smaller groups. Actually, the room can hold as many as eighty depending on how it’s set up.”
Isaacson wandered farther into the room and turned slowly, studying the room carefully. “You would still set up a coffee and water station inside the room, right?” He glanced around more quickly as if trying to determine where this would go.
“Of course.” Bree handed him a laminated sheet that showed setup options. “Pretty much anything you had in the bigger room, you can have here. Just on a smaller scale.”
“Works for me. Just need to discuss dollars and cents.” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, fingered through it, and drew out two folded checks. “Here’s the balance for this week.” He handed her one of the two checks, already made out. “What do you need for a deposit to hold this room for a midweek conference in early August?”
This man came prepared. Although it wasn’t a large company, and Isaacson wasn’t the CFO or the treasurer, he’d thought to bring a blank check to nail down a deposit. Bree felt a small swell of pride in having secured an ongoing relationship with a rapidly growing company that wanted to hold regular conferences in the Wilmington area. And more specifically, at Kett’s Hotel in Tide’s Way. Her hotel.
Back in her office, Sam was still intent on whatever game he was playing and didn’t look up when Bree hurried to her desk and waited for Isaacson to consult his BlackBerry. “How about the tenth through the thirteenth?”
Bree began typing, and before she even hit print, Isaacson had written out the check and pushed it across her desk. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you.” She handed him his copy of the signed document. “I only wish everyone was as easy to work with.” She grabbed a non-laminated copy of the layout possibilities and handed him that as well. “Give me a call when you know how you want it set up and what meals you want brought in. If I’m not available, you can talk with Owen or leave a message with him, and I’ll get back to you.”
Isaacson folded the papers in thirds and shoved them into his shirt pocket. “Beauty and brains.” He grinned. “My pleasure, ma’am.”
He offered his hand, and Bree took it. A stab of breathless surprise caught her when he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. She knew she was blushing. He’s married, and he’s still a flirt!
“My wife will be with me next trip. I look forward to introducing you. She’s going to like you.” With that he turned and strode out.
“Why did that man kiss your hand?”
Sam had chosen an awkward moment to start paying attention to what was going on around him.
“He’s just old-fashioned.”
Sam frowned. “He’s not old. Not like Grampa. And Grampa never kissed anybody’s hand.”
“Never mind. You ready to go?”
Sam scooped up his Kindle and dropped it into his backpack. “About time.”
Bree put her computer to sleep, grabbed her purse, and joined Sam, who was already headed for the door.
“I still don’t get why he kissed your hand.”
“Maybe he was flirting. Just a little,” Bree conceded as they made their way out to the parking lot.
Sam was clearly thinking this last comment over as he climbed into the car and buckled his seatbelt. Bree slid into the driver’s seat and started the car.
“So,” Sam asked just as Bree was pulling out of the lot and into traffic. “Is flirting what a guy does when he likes someone?”
“Something like that,” Bree agreed, wondering just how far this conversation was going and wishing she hadn’t introduced the word flirt.
“Do girls like it?”
There was flirting, and then there was flirting that sometimes bordered on harassment, but Sam didn’t need to know about that just yet. “Yes, girls like it. Sometimes. It makes them feel—special, I guess.”
“Do I have to kiss Josie’s hand?”
Bree’s gaze flew to the rearview mirror. “Who’s Josie?”
“Just a girl,” Sam answered, his attempt to sound offhand failing completely.
Bree shook her head. Her little boy was growing up way too fast. At least he still considered kissing something reserved for moms and grandmoms. “There are other ways to let a girl know you like her and make her feel special. Like holding the door for her or paying her a compliment.”
Sam nodded sagely. “Or like bringing her an ice cream sundae.”
Chapter 3
WILL CARRIED THE last of the boxes of personal papers and books through the double doors and past the stairwell to the elevator. He was trying to balance the boxes on his thigh and summon the elevator when Sam dashed in from outside.
“Hi, Mr. Cameron!” Sam tapped the bottom box in Will’s stack. “Where are you taking all those boxes?”
“Up to my new apartment. Mind pushing the button for me?”
“I thought elevators were for ladies and old men.” Sam pushed the up button.
“Normally, they are, but I’ve made a lot of trips today, and I’m getting kind of tired.”
“Are you going to live here now?” Sam’s eyes widened in speculation.
“For now,” Will answered, wishing the elevator would hurry before his arms gave out.
“Mom!” Sam shouted as Brianna Reagan came through the doors with her briefcase in one hand and a stylish jacket folded over her other arm. “Mr. Cameron’s gonna live here.” He turned back to Will. “Which floor?”
“Third.”
“You hear that, Mom? Right upstairs from us. Isn’t that cool?” The elevator finally arrived, and the door slid open with a soft ding. Will gratefully stepped inside and dropped his load in the corner. Sam and Bree filed in behind him, and the door slid shut.
This close, in the confines of the tiny elevator, her perfume surrounded him. He had no idea what the scent was, roses maybe, but he wasn’t sure. He was very sure he liked it, and it suited her. He, on the other hand, was dressed in a torn T-shirt and jeans with holes in the knees and fraying hems. He was layered with dust and sweat and God only knew what else. Not the way to impress anyone, never mind this gorgeous fresh-smelling eyeful.
“Are you renting Mr. Leach’s place?” Bree transferred her briefcase to her other hand, and burrowed in her purse, then withdrew a key ring with the logo of the Army Rangers on it.
“Just for six months or so.” Hopefully long enough to
get something going between himself and the lovely Brianna Reagan. It seemed strange that in just three short days, this goal had become so important to him. He hadn’t been really serious about any woman since Linda broke off their engagement three years ago, and he barely knew Brianna Reagan. He knew her son better, and he hadn’t even been aware Sam had lost his dad, so that wasn’t saying much. If the key ring meant anything, her husband had been an Army Ranger. How long had she been a war widow? Maybe he needed to take things a little slower. He needed a little of Ben’s patience.
“It’s temporary. My digs got sold out from under me, and I’m not quite ready to commit to homeownership.”
“Have you got any more boxes to carry up?” Sam piped up. “I can help carry some. I’m really strong. Right, Mom?” He turned to his mother for confirmation.
“I bet you are.” Will chuckled at the boy’s eagerness to be helpful. “But this is the last of them for now.” At Sam’s crestfallen expression, he hastened to add, “But I could sure use some help lugging the empty boxes out to the dumpster once they’re unpacked.”
The elevator slowed to a stop and dinged as the door swept open. Bree stepped out, gesturing for Sam to follow her.
“What time do you need me to come up?” Sam stood in the open doorway, refusing to let the door shut before he’d gotten this detail confirmed.
Will looked at Bree for permission. She shrugged her elegant linen-clad shoulders.
“How about tomorrow morning? If you haven’t got any plans, that is.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Cameron. I’ll be up soon as I finish breakfast.”
“Not too early. I like to sleep late on Saturday mornings, but if you work really hard, maybe your mom will let me take you over to Joel’s for lunch.” Will glanced at Bree and considered inviting her as well, but the look on Sam’s face told him that time mano-a-mano was what the boy was hoping for.
“I don’t want him becoming a pest.” Bree looked cute when she frowned like that.
“Not a problem.” Will ruffled Sam’s hair. “See you in the morning, sport.”
As the door slid closed, Will winked at Bree and grinned with satisfaction when her beautiful fair skin pinkened in response. He wondered how serious she was about the man who’d taken her out three nights earlier. The one Sam called a dork.
What kind of a man attracted this quietly elegant woman? Once upon a time it had been an Army Ranger. But what about now? Was the dork as well-dressed and quiet as Brianna? What did he do for a living? Some instinct told Will the guy was probably the exact opposite of her deceased husband. But he could be wrong. Maybe the guy loved to hunt and go hang-gliding in his spare time. But whatever he was or did, Will planned to make every effort to cut in on his action.
SAM WAS UP EARLIER than usual the next morning and impatient with waiting until Bree let him head up to help his new “friend” with the unpacking. An hour or so later, Bree went upstairs to check on him. She told herself she just wanted to make sure Sam was actually being helpful and not a nuisance, and it had nothing to do with wanting to see Will herself.
His door stood wide open, so she walked in without knocking and caught Will bent at the waist slitting boxes with a dangerous-looking knife. He was naked from the waist up and clad in a pair of cut-off denim shorts and running shoes, with sweat glistening on muscles that looked like they belonged in a men’s fitness magazine. Bree gulped at the spectacle while her heart rate jumped.
Will continued to work, unaware of her presence. She gawked like a groupie, more than a little turned on by all that masculine grace in action. Then Sam bounded in the door behind her, and Will looked up and noticed her.
She flushed royally. The problem with being fair-skinned meant her face surely looked as heated as it felt. She tried to cover her embarrassment with an explanation of why she’d come up in the first place.
Sam was shirtless as well, obviously in imitation of Will, but his pale boyish frame was a stark contrast to Will’s out-of-season tan and toned masculine glory. Sam grinned at Bree with unabashed happiness. He’d never looked so pleased in Bob’s company, even when Bob had gone out of his way to do something he thought Sam would enjoy. Will hadn’t done anything special, but apparently just being allowed to help was all Sam needed to make his day.
Suddenly feeling totally out of place and awkward, she excused herself and beat a hasty retreat. Bustling around the apartment in a cleaning frenzy, she did her best to forget the alarming effect Will’s bare chest and piercing blue eyes had wreaked on her carefully erected wall of self-preservation.
How could she have met this man at Zoe’s wedding and not been impressed enough to think of him again in the three months between then and now? Perhaps it was the overwhelming impression five tall, handsome blond men had on any woman’s senses. All the Cameron men had enough good looks and charisma to charm the devil himself. She remembered the oldest brother Philip the most clearly and suspected half that magnetism was the Marine dress uniform. But identical twins should have been just as memorable.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to be impressed with Will now. The fluttery feeling in her gut and the inability to control the flush of pleasure his wink caused bothered her. She didn’t plan to ever care about another man the way she had cared about Ed. Losing Ed had crushed her heart so thoroughly, it had taken months to stop weeping every time she heard Ed’s name or saw something of his lying carelessly in a place she hadn’t expected to find it. She never wanted to be so vulnerable again. For Sam’s sake, she couldn’t let herself take that chance.
But she couldn’t stop thinking about this bigger-than-life man who dazzled without even trying. Even Ed had not had that effect on her. Or maybe her memories were fading.
The thought appalled her. She had loved Ed since her first year in high school. He’d always seemed bigger-than-life. Hadn’t he?
With a sense of sudden purpose, she went into the living room and removed the photo albums from the bottom shelf of a tall bookcase in one corner. She settled herself on the sofa and set the albums on the coffee table. But then didn’t open them. She hadn’t looked at them since those first agonizing days when she’d forced herself to go through them to pick out photos to display once the funeral could be arranged. She hadn’t wanted to look through them then and couldn’t bring herself to do so afterward.
Sam spent a lot of time with the albums when he thought she didn’t know, and she’d let it go unmentioned. Ed was his father, and Sam clung desperately to his fading little-boy memories. At some point Sam had removed several photos and kept them tucked under the clock on his bedside table where he thought she wouldn’t find them. She had, of course, one day when Sam was at his grandparents’ house, and she was turning his room out for a thorough cleaning. That day she’d sat on Sam’s bed bawling her eyes out with the fistful of stolen photos clutched in her hand. When the storm had subsided, she’d tucked the purloined photos back under the clock where she’d found them and never mentioned them to Sam.
She leaned forward and ran her fingers along the edge of the top album. Then, with a deep sigh, she opened it.
The album began before she’d met Ed, so after smiling at a few snapshots of her girlish antics, she flipped forward to the first year of high school. Ignoring her own youthful self, she focused on Ed. Ed with his horse. Ed with the motorcycle he’d fixed up in anticipation of attaining his first driver’s license. Ed with her tucked against his side at their junior prom. Ed wearing his older brother’s Special Forces beret.
Bree sucked in a gasp at the sudden memory. Ed had always dreamed of being a Ranger. The recruitment office had been the first place he’d gone after receiving his high school diploma. He’d even taken her with him, and she’d gone, happy to be with him and proud of what he was doing. She closed her eyes and tried to remember that feeling of naïve patriotic pride.
Opening her ey
es again, she flipped to the end of the album. The last page held several worn photos that Ed had sent her from advanced infantry training. In every photo it was obvious he was totally into the whole thing. One photo showed him still wearing the harness from his first jump, the limp parachute spread out behind him, a grin as broad as the sea splitting his face. Another showed him working his way on his elbows, covered in mud through an obstacle course, sweat dripping from his chin, and a look of utter determination on his face. The last showed him on another soldier’s shoulders, one fist pumping the air. God only knew what they were celebrating.
She closed that album and slowly opened the next. Her wedding day.
She had never been so happy either before or since.
Abruptly she shut the book and sat back. Ed had loved her, there was no question. But he’d loved the life of a soldier more. With the country at war, they had expected he would get deployed eventually. But rarely did a soldier, especially one with a family, get sent over to the sandbox, as Ed always referred to it, as often as Ed had. Bree hadn’t wanted to accept it at the time, but in retrospect, she knew he’d volunteered for most of those deployments. After being home for a few months he’d be restless and itching to go again. When Sam was born, she thought things would change. But they hadn’t.
Ed had been a decorated soldier, good at what he did. He’d earned his reputation with countless acts of sacrifice and heroism. But in the end, her bigger-than-life husband had taken one risk too many.
Bree grabbed the albums and moved to put them away. A little stack of photos that had never been mounted slid out and spilled across the coffee table. The photo on top was of a flag-draped coffin with a solemn five-year-old boy saluting it.
Almost angrily, Bree shoved the photos back into the album without looking at the rest. She squared her shoulders and headed for the kitchen. Time to think about supper and stop thinking about men. Any man. The last thing she needed in her life was another bigger-than-life hero.