by Lacey Baker
As she descended the last step and headed toward the kitchen, Heaven’s cell phone vibrated. She almost cursed as she thought maybe she should have left it upstairs after all. Pulling it from the case at her hip, she looked at the screen and saw the same number she’d seen before. She’d missed the call, and they hadn’t left a message. That was why she answered this time.
“Heaven Montgomery,” she said in her professional voice.
“You’ll pay for what you did!”
Heaven was stunned, first by the deep gravelly voice, then the instant silence as the call disconnected. She didn’t know how long she’d stood there staring at her phone, but that’s exactly how Parker found her.
“Something wrong?” he asked coming to stand near her.
Heaven’s head snapped in his direction, but she didn’t speak immediately. He touched her shoulder and she jumped, tripping over something—most likely her own feet—and tumbling back into the wall.
For all that his leg was in a brace that reached up to his thigh and on some days he used a cane to assist in his walking, Parker was pretty fast. He grabbed hold of her before she could slump to the floor. They both clumsily stayed upright, and she felt like a colossal idiot for almost making him fall.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she was saying, trying to pull away from him.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” he asked, for a second sounding just like Preston.
His eyes were the same shade as Preston’s, like root beer, and his eyebrows were dark and thick like Preston’s, too. He wore jeans and a T-shirt that looked as if it had been made specifically to fit him. Parker was more muscled than Preston, his arms roped with thick veins, shoulders broad and intimidating.
“Nothing. I’m, ah, I’m fine,” she stammered.
He shook his head. “No. You’re not.”
She clenched the phone in her hand, even as she was swallowing, preparing to tell him again that she was fine, when Michelle came into the room.
“What’s going on out here? It’s not even seven in the morning and the two of you are out here making enough noise to wake the Smythe couple,” she said in that no-nonsense way she had.
Her apron was already sprinkled with what Heaven figured was flour, her dark hair pulled back into a bun—her cooking hairdo, as she’d told Heaven before. That was why Heaven had pulled her hair back into a ponytail before she’d come down.
“It’s my fault, I apologize,” she said using this opportunity to step away from Parker, who was watching her like he knew for certain she wasn’t telling the truth. “It won’t happen again.”
Then she was gone, moving quickly down the foyer and pushing through the swinging doors to the kitchen.
“What was that?” Michelle asked Parker. “What did you do to her?”
Parker frowned. “I didn’t do anything but walk in here. She was spooked even before I said a word to her.”
“She’s pale and she was shaking. Did you see that?” Michelle had folded her arms over her chest. She’d glanced in the direction where Heaven had gone, then back at her brother. “I don’t like it.”
“If you’re feeling like that, how do you think Preston’s going to feel when I tell him she’s being stalked?”
Chapter 16
Mr. Sylvester watched her closely.
She’d been sitting in that same spot playing with that puppy for the last half hour. Every now and then she’d looked up to the sky as if she was asking someone for something; then her attention returned to the puppy. It made her smile, and Mr. Sylvester felt a softening in his chest each time she did that.
Normally those pups would run wild and fast as soon as they were set free, but not this one. Nope, she—he knew it was one of the girls because Michelle had fitted them all with pink collars and the boys with dark blue, since the siblings still had trouble telling them apart—stayed right up under Heaven. She climbed into Heaven’s lap and put her front paws on her chest, licking at her face until Heaven giggled. Satisfied with her work, the pup would settle down, resting her chin on Heaven’s thigh, waiting with great expectation for her to rub behind her ears. Heaven did so without a second thought.
This girl was lonely. Mr. Sylvester had thought that the first time he’d seen her walking around the house along the small hallway just outside the caretaker’s suite. That’s where Janet kept all her family photos. They lined the wall so that as soon as the door to the suite was opened each morning Janet could see them first thing. There were pictures of all the children through the various stages of their lives, as well as pictures of Janet’s parents. Her father, Jerry Davidson, had been the town’s mayor for a time, and her late husband’s great-grandfather Cyrus Cantrell had held that same office during his years.
The way Heaven had reached out and touched some of those photos, letting her fingers drift softly over the faces, saddened Mr. Sylvester. He knew then that she was brought here for a reason. Yes, part of that reason was obviously that little puppy she was holding. But there was something more. She needed to be here at this moment. And she needed somebody else to be here with her.
After a while he decided to go on over and talk to her. She’d been alone a lot in her life, he suspected, and he didn’t want her to be alone much more.
“That little one sure is in love with you,” Mr. Sylvester said when he’d finally approached Heaven.
“I’m in love with her, too,” she said with a giggle.
It sounded genuine and it also sounded rusty, like laughing wasn’t something she did often. “Love’s like that sometimes. It comes on quick and bites you right in the butt so you can’t run away.”
“Oh I wouldn’t run away from my Coco. She’s my life now,” Heaven told him. She continued to rub her fingers under the dog’s ears and then over her stomach when she rolled over in Heaven’s lap.
“A dog can be a really good friend. They can love you just as much as you love them, sometimes more I suspect. But they can’t be your life. They can’t give you everything you need,” he told her seriously, leaning on his cane as he talked.
She reached up, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, then tilted her head to look up at him. Her eyes squinted in the afternoon sun, her hands still touching the puppy moving about in her lap.
“I know that she can’t be my whole life. But she can be the beginning of my new life,” she told him seriously.
Mr. Sylvester smiled. He couldn’t help it. This was a smart girl. She’d been wounded, and pretty bad—she still looked shaken by whatever had happened in her past. But as she sat here right now she knew she had to start fresh, to rebuild and rejuvenate. That took guts, and it took a special person to achieve it. He had no doubt Heaven could start again. The only thing Mr. Sylvester wondered was if she knew that this time someone else would need to start over with her.
They talked for a little while longer, her sharing only that Sweetland was really beginning to grow on her. That, coincidentally, was just the thing Mr. Sylvester needed to hear. He whistled, something he realized he hadn’t done since Janet’s death, as he walked into the house.
“He’s gonna fall hard. Yes indeed he is,” Mr. Sylvester said to himself, chuckling as he headed down the foyer that led to his room. “That boy’s gonna fight all the way, but she’s gonna get him. He doesn’t have a chance in hell of resisting a woman like that one.”
* * *
“Mr. Cantrell, we weren’t expecting you,” Steven Redling said, sitting up straight in his chair.
That was obvious, Preston thought. He’d just stepped into Redling’s office, only to see none other than Diana McCann draped over the man’s lap. While Redling had been clearly startled and rushed to push Diana away, then straighten his tie and button the buttons on his shirt Diana had undoubtedly dislodged, she had sashayed from behind the desk glaring at Preston the entire time.
“Preston Cantrell never needs to be announced, do you, Preston?” She’d come to a stop at the front of the desk resting he
r backside—her very shapely backside—on the edge while folding her arms over her chest—a generously endowed chest.
There was no doubt that Diana McCann was an attractive woman—that had been a given since she turned sixteen and grew tits and ass that all the guys in town wanted to touch. But for Preston, there never had been much more to Diana than the pretty smile, soft hair, irritating voice, and great body. As he stood looking at her today, he thought not much had changed.
“Your secretary wasn’t at her desk so I figured I’d just come on in. And the door wasn’t closed,” he added with an eye to Steven, who at thirty-two years old and the next in line to inherit the Redling millions obviously wasn’t nearly as smart as his older brother.
Steven cleared his throat and stood. “She’s probably down at the pool. There was a big celebration for its unveiling today. You should head on down and get yourself some refreshments. Our cook is marvelous.”
“Oh, no, Steven, Preston only eats his sister’s cooking. And before that he would only eat his grandmother’s. The Cantrells are like that, kind of narrow-minded, if attractive, folk.”
“Loyal is the word I think you were looking for,” Preston corrected.
Diana had made it no secret that Parker was the preferred member of the Double Trouble Cantrells for her. Preston didn’t mind; in fact, he was glad she’d decided to cast her net in another direction. But that had only happened after he’d rebuked her kiss and turned away when she’d lifted her shirt to show him that the snap had broken off on her bra. It had been one of those champion moments Preston would later pride himself on. He couldn’t say that he’d turned away from the sight of bare breasts—D cups, he was almost positive—ever again.
His thoughts were interrupted by Diana’s throaty laugh. Her head fell back, just enough so that her long hair fanned behind her, breasts poking out in front for all to see. Only “all” was just Preston, and he still wasn’t interested.
“Was there something I could help you with?” Steven said, stepping around Diana and standing in front of her as if he was protecting what was his.
Preston thought about telling him there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d ever reach out to touch Diana McCann, but figured that would be useless. Diana would no doubt take that as a sign he was interested—because her little mind couldn’t comprehend anything beyond her own wants and needs. And Steven looked as if he was stupid enough to possibly take a swing at Preston under some misguided notion that he’d be fighting for his woman. Diana McCann was any man’s woman—that was a known fact around Sweetland, and probably the one that had finally killed her uncle and guardian, George Bellmont.
“You said I could stop by whenever I wanted for a complete tour.” Preston held up his hands. “Here I am.”
“Right. Right,” Steven said, reaching over to the chair and snagging his suit jacket. “Let’s start downstairs and work our way around. I’m sure you’ll see what a smooth setup we have here at The Marina. Maybe you’ll take some notes to see how you can improve over at your little B and B.”
Preston stopped at those words. They were just about to go through the door when he turned back to Steven.
“Our little B and B is just fine the way it is,” he said with an edge to his voice that he hoped didn’t show the pinch of doubt he’d been harboring.
Steven smiled and clapped a hand on Preston’s shoulder. “Sure it is. I’ve heard nothing but good things about the quaint yellow inn at the end of Sycamore. The townsfolk love to talk about that place and its history. I figure it’s going to take a while for them to get used a new fixture in town. But they will get used to us, Mr. Cantrell. It’s only a matter of time.”
The rest of the morning and the early hours of the afternoon were spent in the company of that pompous, immature ass. And the only thing that made it worse was when they were finally joined by Phillip, the older pompous ass who wore his millionaire status like a new hat that he couldn’t help flaunting.
By the time Preston arrived back at the B&B he was ready to hit something. If he were home in the city, he would have headed straight to the gym and strapped on his boxing gloves. When they had time, he and Parker would go a couple of rounds. When they didn’t, Preston spent a lot of time with the bag before swimming laps until his muscles screamed. And that was how he dealt with his frustrations.
Today, however, the minute he walked into his room and saw Parker and Quinn sitting in front of the television, both with dour expressions on their faces, he didn’t think even a gym would help.
“I just spent the better part of my day with those ridiculous Redling brothers. What they lack in common sense, their money sure as hell makes up for. The Marina is a gorgeous resort with every amenity imaginable. If we’re going to compete, we’ve got to think a little bigger than the restaurant and hosting family crab feasts,” he said, crossing the small room that was called the sitting area and taking a seat in the recliner opposite his brothers.
His brothers still remained sullenly quiet.
“I don’t think we need to go for the big and fabulous angle because let’s face it, The Marina has twice the space we have. We should still look to be family-oriented, keeping the original small-town feel. Some will want that above the corporate and impersonal atmosphere. But I was thinking we could work with some of the local businesses to offer some one-of-a-kind perks. I could draft contracts once we reach the agreements, but that spa that’s about to open would be great to partner with. Females love spa day packages,” Parker continued, rubbing his eyes as he talked and trying to ignore the growling of his stomach that seemed awfully loud in the way-too-quiet room.
Why was the room so quiet?
The television wasn’t on—that was one reason. The other was that his brothers still hadn’t said a word.
“What’s going on?” Preston finally asked when he sat up in his chair and really looked at them.
Quinn had his elbows resting on his knees, his forehead knotted. Parker, who had for some reason removed the brace from his leg, sat with it outstretched, a hand rubbing over his knee. His face was serious, stoic. It was his police face, and that alarmed Preston.
“Where’s Heaven?” was his next question, spoken with just a little more urgency.
“She was outside with Mr. Sylvester before I came in here. That was about fifteen minutes ago,” Quinn said.
“Before that she spent the morning in the kitchen helping Michelle bake. The bake-off starts in an hour and Michelle expects all of us to show up for support,” was Parker’s reply.
Preston nodded. “My previous question was—what’s up? Which one of you wants to answer that one?”
“Heaven has a stalker,” Parker said seriously. “He’s been calling her at least three times a day. It’s the same number from that first night you gave me the phone. I walked in on her this morning right after she’d taken a call. She looked like she was about to pass out, or run for the hills, I’m not real sure which one. I asked her about it and she brushed it off. Michelle interrupted and agreed that Heaven looked frightened. So I pulled the record again.”
“We’ve been waiting for you to return to talk to you about it,” Quinn said.
“You should’ve called me on my cell!” Preston raged. “I would have come back immediately. Who is it? An ex? I asked her if she was seeing anyone and she told me no.”
“The number is from a disposable phone. There’s no way to track the owner. But newspapers say she’s engaged to be married,” Parker offered.
“What? Married?” Preston’s head throbbed.
Quinn shook his head. “I don’t believe she came here to cheat on a fiancé.”
“Does anyone ever set out to cheat?” Preston asked, fury soaring through him at the moment. She’d lied to him. And he’d fallen for it. Now, more than ever, Preston needed that gym bag or possibly this fiancé of Heaven’s to punch on.
“She doesn’t strike me as that type of woman,” Quinn continued. “I think there’s more going on
here. Have you asked her anything about her personal life? I mean, before you slept with her did you at least try to find out the basics?”
Preston didn’t like the way Quinn had phrased that question. “I’m not a kid, Quinn. I know how to talk to females before I take them to bed, and yes, I did ask about her home and work life.”
Quinn didn’t look fazed by his outburst.
“And what did she say?”
Dragging a hand down his face, Preston reached for the calm that seemed to be dodging him at the moment.
“She said she was on an extended leave of absence from her job. There was no boyfriend at home for her to hurry back to and she was thinking that maybe Sweetland was a better place for her. That’s what she told me.”
“That’s all she told you?” Quinn asked.
Preston stood and paced, thinking the movement would better combat this urgency to go out and find Heaven Montgomery.
“I didn’t do a background check, if that’s what you mean. I asked questions and she answered them the way she wanted to. The same bull women pull all the time.”
“Fear will make you hide things,” Parker said. “That and pride. Maybe she’s ashamed of what happened in her past. And maybe she didn’t come here to jump into bed with you. But I know you, Preston, maybe better than anybody else in this world. When you set out to seduce a woman, she doesn’t have a chance of turning you down.”
“I don’t seduce married or engaged women, Parker. You, of all people, should know that,” was Preston’s heated retort.
Parker nodded. “I do know that. My instinct says we still don’t have the whole story. Besides, the fiancé is some rich finance mogul. He’s about fifteen years older than Heaven, and by the looks of the honey on his arm in this picture snapped just two days ago, he’s not missing his so-called fiancée very much.”
Parker had tossed a folder on the table as he talked. Preston picked it up and opened it. The man did look old, and that was a hell of a honey on his arm. So where did Heaven fit into all this?
He couldn’t think, didn’t want to think about this. For the past few weeks Preston had known he was off his game. He’d felt it each time he was around Heaven. And still, somewhere in the back of his mind he’d continued to remind himself that it was his motto not to trust any female. Yet he’d fallen right into bed with her, and—while this would remain his secret—he’d felt like she was seeping into a part of him he’d had locked off for all his life.