Love Redefined

by Delancey Stewart

  Mike’s eyes met mine, and I wasn’t sure what was going on behind them—they were dark and deep, and I couldn’t even begin to imagine what kinds of things went on just out of my view. “Right,” she said, and her voice was soft and thoughtful. “We’d better get to it.”

  “The reason I brought you in here,” I said, stepping away to reach for a rack. “Was to get you one of these.” I held up a Kings Grove hoodie for Finn, and he grinned.

  Back outside, Finn modeled the hoodie and looked happy to be warm.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Mike said. But she bumped my shoulder with hers as we walked, and I felt the air between us warm slightly.

  “I wanted to. It does get cold up here. Plus, Finn should have a souvenir.” I flashed a smile at the boy as I unlocked the office door. “Come on in, guys. This is where the magic happens.”

  Compared to Mike’s office down in the valley, the Palmer setup was nothing impressive. It wasn’t much more than a box with windows, but it felt like home to me.

  “Finn, you can make yourself at home, okay? If you want to rest, there’s a couch in Sam’s office, and he won’t mind. You can turn on the television in there, too.” Since it was Saturday, Sam wasn’t going to make an appearance, and I really didn’t think he’d care.

  “We can talk in my office if that works for you,” I told Mike. Since the two spaces were about ten feet from one another, separated only by a lobby with Miranda’s desk and a couple chairs in it, I didn’t think there’d be any issues.

  “Sounds good,” she said, and she followed me through my office door.

  The place was tidy, which wasn’t usually the case, but I’d had time to prepare. There was even a vase of fresh flowers on the edge of my desk, and the room smelled fresh and pretty. You could barely detect the always present scent of black licorice that pervaded the office most of the time, thanks to my dad’s longstanding habit, and now Sam’s. The black licorice gene had skipped me. “Have a seat.” I waved Mike toward one of the chairs next to my desk, and I couldn’t help the way my eyes were drawn to her long legs crossing over one another. She leaned down to pull a laptop from her bag, and opened it on the edge of my desk.

  “You were hiking with that in your bag?” I asked.

  “I take it everywhere,” she said, a little smile flitting over her lips. “Plus, don’t you get a better workout if you add some weight?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I have some tools you can stuff in your pockets when we walk back out to the car if you want.”

  “Funny,” she said, and her eyes shone as they met mine. Something zinged through the air between us, and I was sure she felt it too because she cleared her throat and resettled in the chair, dropping my gaze.

  God, she was pretty. And smart. I wanted to keep her here somehow—even without the resort, the deal. I wished there was some way to flip this around, so it wasn’t just a business deal, so I could find out more about Michaela Grayson. But for now, I needed to sell her, so I rolled my shoulders and got started on my pitch.

  For the next two hours, I talked. I covered visitor statistics and snowfall rates, competitive properties and other expansion plans for Kings Grove that would make a tourist destination more attractive and convenient. I talked about sourcing building supplies and subcontractors, permitting and licensing. I ended up pacing around the office and referring to the plans Sam and I had worked on, as I explained the phases of the build and the costs associated with each one. I’d put more thought into this property than any other I’d worked on, including the houses I’d built for my brother and my own. And in a strange way, this project felt every bit as personal.

  The windows darkened as the sun gave up its glow for the day, and the space inside the office felt warm and close as the atmosphere seemed to thicken, becoming almost cozy.

  We’d almost finished when Mike asked about a final detail and I moved closer to join her in looking at the plans we’d attached to the wall. Rather than reach in front of her, I reached around where she was leaning in close to point at the spot on the map, and when she stood back up, my arm fell naturally to her shoulder, and my hand rested there. It occurred to me to remove it, that standing so close I could smell the honey and spice scent of her was probably not professional, but I kept my hand on her shoulder anyway, unable to make myself break contact. She stepped in closer to me, and my other hand lifted to land on her waist.

  I wasn’t thinking by then, was just reacting to her proximity, to her scent, to the shine in those dark eyes, which were fixed intently on mine like she was trying to find something inside them.

  I moved my fingers along her shoulder softly, the tips of my fingers finding soft skin just over the loose neckline of her sweater, tracing the gentle curve of her neck. Her breath hitched, and I felt my body coiling, energy building inside me.

  We stood like that, suspended in time, for what felt like an hour—breathing the same air, sharing a gaze that felt like a tractor beam.

  And then she lifted a hand and traced the line of my jaw.

  Some old pain inside me that churned a daily grind shuddered to a halt. My chest ached and every nerve inside me condensed and expanded with sensation. And I knew I was lost.

  Her touch was careful, tender. Her cool slim fingers slid along the scruff of my beard, burning a trail of heat and longing that ripped open the cage I’d built to protect my heart.

  I lifted my hand from her waist to catch the fingers at my jaw, trapping them with my own and bringing them up to my lips. I let my eyes fall shut as her soft fingers slid across my lips, sending shivers skittering down my spine. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to pull her close into my arms and keep her there, and I wanted other things—to move with her, to bury myself in her so I didn’t have to think anymore, didn’t have to feel.

  Because having Mike in my arms, having her fingers on my mouth, unleashed a tidal wave of feeling I’d buried carefully and avoided very purposefully since the day Rebecca died.

  But Mike didn’t give me a choice. She pressed herself against me, her head tilted back until her soft lips grazed mine.

  I might’ve growled. Something escaped my lips—a hungry sound, an animal noise of need and desire. And then I stopped thinking, stopped feeling anything except the slide of her lips, the gentle prod of the tip of her velvet tongue, the way her arms pulled me closer still.

  Long seconds passed, and all I felt was Mike—the world stopped turning.

  “Oh God,” she said abruptly, stepping suddenly away.

  My eyes flew open and the heat that had flowed through my limbs was immediately replaced by cool regret. That had been a mistake. “I’m sorry, I—”

  She shook her head, “No. No, that wasn’t you,” she said. And then she surprised me, and I knew for certain that Michaela Grayson was a woman unlike any I’d ever known. She didn’t apologize, or become flustered and closed off. She looked right into my eyes. “I wanted to do that. I’ve thought about kissing you since we met. And now that it’s out of the way, maybe I’ll be able to focus on work.”

  I was used to being the smooth one, and her straightforward words caught me off balance. “Oh, okay, well.” I thought for a minute. “So, do you think it’ll work?”

  “What?”

  “Will you be able to focus on work now?”

  She lifted a shoulder and smiled. “I seriously doubt it.”

  I watched Mike pack up her laptop and gather her notes together, feeling a little like I’d just gotten a note passed back with the “yes” box checked beneath the question, “Do you like me?”

  We walked back into the small lobby and she turned to face me, but didn’t speak.

  “What happens now?” I asked.

  “Now I take my little guy, head back down to reality, and fight for my job.” She lifted her chin and her shoulders went back. This woman was strong. She was determined.

  I couldn’t help it if all of that made her sexy as hell.

  Finn was asleep on the couch in
Sam’s office, and I picked him up carefully, letting his warm little body slump over my shoulder as we made our way through the parking lot toward Mike’s car. Finn barely stirred as I tucked him into the back seat and fastened his seatbelt around him.

  “Drive carefully going down that road in the dark,” I said, worry threatening to overwhelm me suddenly. “Maybe… Should you maybe stay until morning? The road is hard enough to handle when it’s light out.”

  “We’ll be fine. I’m a good driver,” Mike said, putting a hand on my forearm as she turned back to look me in the eye. “It’s one of my super powers,” she said.

  If only that were true. If only Rebecca had that super power. My mind darkened in grief and confusion, but I pushed it away. “Do you have a lot of super powers?”

  “I’ve got a few,” she said. “Finn has more.” She smiled as she gazed into the darkened back seat, her face becoming serene as she looked at her son. “But I think you’ve got a few too, Chance.”

  “Like what?” Our voices were low, and somehow these shared words felt like a continuation of the kiss inside.

  “Like your complete certainty about everything.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “And your ability to turn completely professional meetings into…” she trailed off and dropped my gaze. I wanted her to finish the sentence, but she shook her head lightly and laughed. “Anyway, I better go. Thanks for the day—and for the clarification on the plans. Wish me luck.”

  “I do,” I said, and released the corner of her car door, which I’d been holding. She folded those long legs into the car and I closed the door. “Be safe,” I said, and it was more of a prayer than anything else.

  Chapter 8

  Michaela

  The winding road down the side of mountain to Fresno might have been scary to some—there were certainly curves that warranted careful attention and a ready braking foot. But I hadn’t been joking when I’d told Chance I was a good driver—I was. And the undulating curves and constant motion required to navigate Kings Highway allowed me to focus just enough that the churn in my brain over everything that had just happened wouldn’t drive me nuts. I only wished I could keep driving forever.

  Once I’d put Finn to bed—in the Kings Grove sweatshirt he refused to take off—I poured a glass of wine and settled into the couch with the television on low. I stared past the cheerful faces and constant positivity of the contestants on The Great British Baking Show, and in the end it did little to distract me from my thoughts, though it did have me craving scones, which I didn’t have the first clue how to make. My mind circled and wove. My job. My ex. Harvey. Finn. Kings Grove and the potential I believed it had for an iconic McLaren property. And Chance. My mind circled around Chance like the man was a bullseye in the center of everything else, like he was the eventual target. No matter how I tried to focus on other things, or tell myself to consider the deal and only the deal, it was grey-blue eyes and the surest touch I’d ever felt that kept pulling me back.

  After a while I gave in and let myself replay those tension-soaked moments in his office, where he’d reached around me and I’d turned into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world. When his hand found my waist it felt like a claim—but not possessive and frightening like Jeff’s touch. It was a statement when Chance’s fingers traced the skin of my neck, but it had also felt like a question, one Jeff never bothered to ask me. I’d never really been with anyone else, not seriously. I’d answered Chance’s unspoken question, had been unable to stop myself from finally feeling that soft hair around his hard jaw, run the pads of my fingers over those full lips.

  When he’d kissed me… I let my eyes slip closed remembering it. I’d been kissed before, obviously. Even before Jeff. I’d had boyfriends in high school and college. But I’d never felt anything like the madness that raced through me when Chance Palmer turned every ounce of his magnetism on me and touched me with his lips. He was by far the most handsome man I’d ever seen, but I didn’t think my body’s reaction to his touch was related only to his good looks. He’d been gentle and tentative, though there was nothing about him that made me think he was ever uncertain about anything. When his lips grazed mine, my mind had exploded in white light, and my body began to buzz as if he’d found a magic button and switched it to “on.” Was this where the idea of being “turned on” came from?

  I swallowed what was left of my wine and willed myself to focus on other things. I’d changed my mind about Kings Grove, thanks to Chance’s smart “spend the day” strategy, and it didn’t revolve around the kiss that had topped off the experience. It was the trees, the deer, the charm and warmth of the diner and the people. Kings Grove was a place people would need to see and feel to understand, but I was certain a McLaren resort would fit well there. I needed to get my head around packaging my proposal to Harvey. There were plenty of details to iron out before I could convince him Kings Grove was a worthwhile investment, and I only had a week to do it.

  On Sunday, Finn went to my mother’s house and I went to work, trying to get as much as possible put together before the additional distractions of my day to day—not to mention Jeff and Harvey being back at work—ramped up. The main McLaren offices were not in Fresno, so I didn’t have to worry about bumping into either my ex or his father in the hallways at work. But it was a short drive from Fresno to Headquarters in San Jose, and I couldn’t put it past either of them to pop by for an unexpected visit. Our meeting wasn’t for another week, but I was prepared for the unexpected.

  Or so I had thought.

  Monday morning I arrived to the office to find a set of rolled plans on my desk, delivered by messenger early that morning.

  I unrolled the tucked-in plans, my jaw clenching as I took in the scale of the property depicted. A note fluttered to the floor as I did so, and I stooped to pick it up.

  Thought you’d like to see what you’re up against. Good luck. Xoxo Jeff.

  I fastened the plans to the wall and stared. My mouth might have dropped open. The Tamarack Ski Resort was drawn out before me, only it wasn’t the Tamarack I knew. The place I’d been to once as a kid was a dilapidated throwback to the sixties practically on the border of Oregon, and it had been shut down in the early nineties. And it was probably condemned.

  But Jeff’s plan was to refurbish it, to revitalize the mountain and expand. The plans before me were enormous in scope, showing two new high rise condo towers, a completely redesigned lift and gondola system, restaurants and even a McLaren village at the foot of the mountain hosting upscale shops and restaurants. The biggest issue the old Tamarack lodge had faced was that it was practically inaccessible, thanks to the sheer distance from any big city. But Jeff’s plan included a monorail system from Redding that would make this Shasta-Trinity ski area a rival to Tahoe.

  My mouth was wide open as I stared at the over-the-top plans. How was this even feasible? McLaren didn’t have the money to build this resort.

  And on a more personal note, my little Kings Grove Winter Sports area looked pathetic in comparison. Which, I was pretty sure, was why Jeff shared these plans with me. He wanted me to question myself, to feel like I was already losing. He’d succeeded.

  I slumped into the chair behind my desk, and tried not to look at the monstrosity on my wall for the better part of an hour, digging through email and dealing with current projects instead. But my mind kept going back to the peace and happiness I’d felt in Kings Grove. I’d convinced myself a property there would be right—that people didn’t need the ritz and glamour of a high-end downhill ski center, that the charm and understated beauty of the Giant Sequoias would round out McLaren’s portfolio nicely. But now I wasn’t so sure. Had my certainty about the Kings Grove property been too mixed up in my feelings about the man who wanted to build it?

  Most of the day had passed before I’d come up with even an inkling of what to do. I needed to find another property. I needed to forget about Kings Grove and plan something else. Something bigg
er, something that could actually compete with Jeff’s mountain monstrosity, even though I doubted McLaren could actually build anything the size of Jeff’s plan—it was a stunning idea, and he’d make up for in wow factor what was missing in practicality. Even if it wasn’t feasible, I was sure the presentation alone would be enough to win Harvey to his side. I wasn’t sure why I’d thought it was a competition in the first place. The outcome had been sealed before I’d ever gone to Kings Grove a second time.

  I needed to call Chance and tell him the proposal was dead. I reached for the receiver just as Eva rang back.

  “Call for you, Ms. Grayson.”

  “Thanks, Eva. Who is it?”

  “A Ms. Talbot? A lawyer?”

  A spike of fear shot through me and I sat up straight. My lawyer, the one I’d retained after Jeff had hit me, the one who’d advised me to come clean about what I knew about him stealing from his father’s company. We’d spoken a few months ago, when Jeff had been about to get out. She was calm and proficient and slightly terrifying.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi Michaela, how are you?” Her voice was like honey, but it did nothing to calm me. If my lawyer was calling now, it wasn’t going to be with good news.

  “I’m fine. How can I help you?”

  “Well, I’ve been in touch with Jeff’s lawyers. I’m sure you know he’s seeking joint custody.”

  Oh God. I dropped my head into my hand. “He mentioned it. Please tell me he doesn’t stand a chance.”

  “I wish I had better news for you, but the court system’s goal is to rehabilitate those who spend time in the system, and to keep families together whenever possible.” She sighed. “His claim has a very good chance of being accepted, and I just wanted to prepare you. There will be a hearing in a week or two.”

  “So soon?”

  “His team is very good.”

  “When?” My voice was a thread and I wished I could call up more strength, but all I could think about was losing Finn, driving away from my baby as I left him with the person who had already proven he didn’t care about him by ruining everything we’d ever had, by striking me right in front of him. He had hurt me. Once, in the heat of passion and dark grip of drugs, he’d hurt me, and Finn had seen it happen. Still, I didn’t think he’d ever hurt his son. At least I had that.