Twenty Times Tempted: A Sexy Contemporary Romance Collection

by Petrova, Em

Sawyer had to battle to get the back door open. All the paint originally intended to protect it had peeled away and the wood had swollen. Then he nearly tripped over an abandoned garden rake that was hidden in the jungle of a garden.

  In Ballicliff there were few flat spots. The houses rose up on hills either side of the harbour. This house was one of the few with a long, wide garden. Unfortunately his father must have given up maintaining it long ago and brambles and nettles rose up from the ground, making inspecting the length of it impossible.

  “Goodness,” Mrs Fletcher murmured.

  He turned back to the woman and folded his arms. She peered at her clipboard then removed her glasses to let them dangle from a chain.

  “Mr Steele, let me be honest. House prices are very steep here, as you probably know. But unfortunately that prices many people out of the market. Those who want to buy holiday homes here won’t be willing to put a lot of work into the house. It’s not worth the effort, you see, for a place you’re only going to use during the summer.”

  Sawyer nodded, dread settling in his stomach. He’d hoped to be able to sell the place quickly. Considering seaside towns in Cornwall were one of the ultimate places to live in the UK, he didn’t think he’d have any problems, but he hadn’t realised he’d be dealing with this mess. Apparently his father wanted to cause him hassle even after he was gone.

  “So how long do you think it will take me to sell this place?”

  “If you’re not willing to put any money into it, I’d say two years, and you’d have to put it on at a very competitive price.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment. Two years. He couldn’t wait that long to get rid of the place. A little voice inside him whispered closure. But it wasn’t something as stupid as that. He just wanted the house gone. He wasn’t one of these eccentric writers who had piles of notes and paper and junk on his desk. He liked things clean, organised and there was nothing he liked better than a decent clear-out. This was all this was. He wanted rid of this extra piece of junk that had come into his life.

  “Alternatively,” Mrs Fletcher continued, “you could consider selling to a developer. This is a sizeable house and with the gardens, a housing company could build at least four new houses.”

  “They’d demolish the house, right?”

  She nodded, sending her glasses chain rattling against the pearl buttons of her sensible buttoned-up blouse. “Yes. Some of the locals would be disappointed but I always say this town needs new blood. We can’t become one of those holiday towns where the population is made up entirely of holiday-makers.”

  And he was willing to bet Mrs Fletcher would make a nice profit off a deal with a developer. Who knew the older woman was so ambitious?

  Sawyer rubbed his chin and peered back at the Victorian building. It had been a decent house once—one of a kind too. Tall smoke-stacks rose up from the angled roof on both ends of the house and the once white trimmings were worn and looked to be rotting.

  He turned his attention back to Mrs Fletcher. “If you can get me a fair price, I’ll definitely consider selling to a developer.”

  Her wide grin told him she was pleased with his decision. They finished up the afternoon measuring the rooms and photographing the inside and outside of the house. It took Sawyer longer than he’d hoped. He couldn’t help thinking of a certain brunette who’d be standing in her little green bookshop on the other side of the harbour right now. Damn, he’d wanted to kiss her.

  Locking the door, he shoved the keys in his pocket and waved to Mrs Fletcher—who had certainly warmed to him. He suspected the knowledge he wouldn’t be staying in town for too long helped. That, and the fact he was going to make her some money.

  He peered across the harbour. Most of the fishing boats were gone for the day and the tide was out. Some smaller boats sat on the sandy bed at awkward angles and the scent of seaweed was high in the air. Kids hung off the railings either side, and farther up he saw some picking through the shingle near the cliffs to gather mussels and hunt for crabs. He’d done the same when he was younger, dragging Maddie with him and scaring her with crabs. Then when they’d grown older, they used to sit on the pier late at night and watch the fishing boats come in. Sometimes they’d even kissed.

  He should have kissed her. Why hadn’t he? Because he was trying to prove himself, right? Everyone had told him he was no good for her and they’d been correct. When his father had come ranting at him, even going as far as to hit him, the day before their wedding, berating him for his disgusting behaviour, it didn’t matter that he hadn’t been guilty of the vandalism of the war memorial. The fact was, everyone thought he was and that was enough. He had been a tearaway and wising up to that had been better than dragging Maddie down with him.

  Didn’t mean he didn’t regret it though. He had. Every day of his life since.

  “Sawyer.” A guy his age paused jogging and came to the bottom step.

  He peered at him until recognition sparked. “Ryan. It’s been a long time.” He’d gone to school and hung out with Ryan a lot. They used to cause quite a bit of trouble together.

  “Sure has. Checking out the old place, huh?”

  He nodded. Ryan wore jogging pants and a tight t-shirt. Sweat stuck the material to him. The man was in good shape. Ryan had always been scrawny when they were kids, while he was the muscular one. Lots of things had changed in Ballicliff. Not enough though. It was still the same stifling, judgemental town it had always been. He couldn’t wait to get Maddie out of here and show her the big wide world.

  “Been for a run?”

  “Yeah, just finished up.” Ryan swiped his forehead with his t-shirt. “Was that Mrs Fletcher? Are you putting the place on the market?”

  Sawyer lifted a shoulder. “No point in keeping it.”

  “You’ll be lucky to shift it in this state. I heard developers were buying up in this area. Have you considered selling to them?”

  He frowned. What did Ryan know about real estate? The guy ran his dad’s beachfront cafe now apparently. He couldn’t see him paying much attention to how the housing market was doing.

  “They approached me about the cafe,” he explained. “Wanted to offer me a large sum to sell up. Can you imagine what would happen if I sold the place? Dad would have a fit.”

  “Yeah, you’d have a riot on your hands for sure. I don’t suppose anyone will care much for this place though.”

  “I don’t know. People respected your dad. They’ll be sad to see it go.”

  Sawyer clenched his teeth. Everyone was sad to his dad go. Why? The man was a waste of space and he hadn’t even looked after the house. It was an eyesore. They should be grateful to him for making the town prettier.

  “You not working today?” Sawyer asked, itching to move away from the subject of his father.

  “No, they don’t need me. I tend to stick to the paperwork side of things now. The place practically runs itself. Besides, I’m a volunteer lifeboat crew member. That keeps me busy too.”

  “Sounds like you’re doing great for yourself.”

  “Can’t complain.” Ryan glanced at the digital watch on his wrist. “Look, I’d better get going but I just wanted to say sorry about your dad. I know you didn’t see eye-to-eye but...”

  “Thanks.”

  He managed to suppress a sigh as he watched Ryan jog off. He was going to have to tolerate a lot more comments like that. More offers of sympathy. He didn’t want them. His father hadn’t even tried to get in touch when he’d run away to his aunt’s. As far as he was concerned, his dad was dead to him a long time ago. Now he just had a lot of messy loose ends to tie up.

  And a woman to win over.

  Chapter Three

  The sweet white cottage had always been popular with holiday-makers. Maddie wondered how Sawyer had managed to book Primrose Cottage at the last minute. She lifted the heavy brass knocker and rapped it twice before eyeing the bottle glass window and glossy painted black door. She tried to see her refection but it wasn’t t
hat glossy. Hopefully she didn’t look at hot and as angry as she felt.

  “Two minutes,” a muffled voice called.

  She rapped again, impatience making her shift from foot to foot. How could he? How very like him to come back into town, kiss her—well sort of kiss her—and threaten to wreak damage on the place before disappearing again.

  The door swung open abruptly and her anger melted. Maddie’s gaze landed on the vast expanse of damp chest that Sawyer was frantically buttoning a shirt over. She couldn’t help watch his thick fingers do up each of the little buttons on the checked shirt. She swallowed hard and dragged her gaze up to his damp hair. He must have been showering.

  Oh good God, she didn’t need that mental image. Not right now.

  “Maddie.” He grinned and raked a hand through his hair. It had a curl to it when damp. Now she wanted to run her hands through it.

  This was not going as planned.

  “Is it true?” she demanded breathlessly.

  “Is what true?”

  “You’re going to sell off the house?”

  His smile disappeared and he stepped aside. “Why don’t you come in for a minute?”

  Maddie hesitated. Out here, she had a slight advantage. Well, maybe not an advantage, but she wasn’t at a disadvantage as such. But did she really want to be shouting at him while tourists strolled by and everyone stared at her?

  Reluctantly, she stepped into the small living area. Low black beams gave the room a cosy feel and an unlit open fire dominated the back of it. Two couches lined the room and a coffee table took up the middle. There wasn’t a lot of space in what was once a fisherman’s cottage. And with Sawyer right beside her, there was even less. She had the desire to run back outside and draw in a deep breath of fresh air, and she had never really been the claustrophobic type.

  “Have a seat.” He motioned to one of the black leather chairs.

  She shook her head and folded her arms. She didn’t need to be sitting while he towered over her. Or while he sat opposite in some manly stance that made her tingle from head to toe.

  But now he was right in front of her and the dip in his collarbone was right in her eye-line. And it was still damp. Was it that hard to towel himself dry? Really?

  “So?”

  “Yes, I’m selling off the house.”

  “To developers?”

  His jaw worked. “Yes.”

  How could he be so callous? Did the fact it was his father’s house mean nothing? She knew he didn’t exactly get on with him, but who did get on with their parents when they were teenagers?

  “You can’t let them tear down that house. It’s been in your family for years.”

  “It’s a mess, Maddie. You haven’t seen the inside. It needs so much work.”

  “If it’s the cost, I’d—”

  He gave her a stern look. “You’d what?”

  “Well, I have some money. I could lend it to you perhaps...”

  No one except her parents and her five friends who she’d bought the ticket with knew about her lottery winnings. Four million meant they weren’t quite millionaires but it was more money than she’d ever expected to have in her life and she needed something to do with it. They’d agreed not to tell anyone apart from close family so she couldn’t very well explain how she had come into money and hadn’t quite figured out what to do with it. The financial advisor had suggested property might be a good start.

  His eyes darkened, his arms flexed. “I’m not borrowing money from you.”

  “I don’t mind, honestly. I’ve been thinking about investing in some property.”

  “Look...”

  “You can’t let them knock down the house. It’s too beautiful for that. God, Sawyer, it’s part of Ballicliff’s history.”

  “I do know that.” He folded his arms and leant back against the doorway leading into the kitchen. “I just don’t have the time or the knowledge to manage a project like that.”

  “So you’re going to let them knock it down and replace it with some horrible modern house?”

  “I’m sure they’ll replace it with something sympathetic to the area,” he said slowly, as though she was really stupid.

  Maddie narrowed her eyes as heat scalded her cheeks. “But it won’t have the history. It won’t mean anything. It’s a beautiful building. It just needs a little work and if you still want to sell it you can.” She could see she wasn’t getting through to him. “You’ll probably make a lot of money on it,” she added.

  A tidy profit didn’t change his impassive expression. Apparently he didn’t need it. So his reason for not wanting to fix up the house wasn’t monetary. She didn’t know what he did for a living—the people of Ballicliff never spoke of Sawyer Steele and the day he left—but apparently he wasn’t poor.

  Huffing, she copied his posture. She wasn’t backing down. For years, she’d admired the big house on the main road and wished it was hers. Even with her lottery winnings, she couldn’t afford it. It would probably sell for over three quarters of a million and that would be all of her money gone.

  Sawyer glowered at her, the muscle in his jaw twitching. She tried to glower back which was difficult when her traitorous gaze wanted to take in every inch of his body. Finally, he broke away and turned into the kitchen. She stalked after him as he snatched two cups from the side and started making a cup of tea.

  “I don’t know what you want from me, Maddie. I don’t know the first thing about that house apart from the fact I used to live in it. I’m not a project manager. Even if I wanted to take the time to fix up the house, I couldn’t.” He dumped tea bags in the cup and flicked on the kettle.

  “I do.” Maddie rested back against the counter, forcing him to look at her. “I know everything about that house.”

  A dark eyebrow rose. “What?”

  She was willing to but she blushed as she said, “I kind of love that house. I always have. I’ve studied the architecture and history of it over the years.”

  “You wouldn’t love it so much if you’d lived in it,” he muttered, bracing himself against the counter with both hands.

  A hand to his arm, she offered her best pleading look. “Please don’t knock it down. I’ll help. I’ll manage the project if you’d like.” He looked at her. “Please let me do this.”

  He shook his head to himself. “I didn’t intend to stick around for long.”

  “Even though you said you wanted me back?”

  Either he hadn’t been serious or he’d somehow expected to win her over easily. Or he’d changed his mind. Oh. Of course he had. How could she be stupid enough to think—

  “If I agree not to sell, will you give me another chance?”

  Yes, she wanted to say. Oh God, yes. It was like every teenage dream come true. How many times had she written Maddie Steele in her diary with little hearts and flowers around it? But inner teenage Maddie was reckless and outer teenage Maddie was sensible enough to understand marrying someone like Sawyer wouldn’t have been all hearts and flowers. And she’d been prepared for that once before. But not anymore.

  Grown up Maddie knew there were no hearts and flowers too. She closed her eyes and opened them swiftly. But she could rescue a house. And, a little part of her whispered, you could have some fun too. She had sorely missed the side of her that Sawyer brought out—the fun, illogical side and the way he somehow silenced her sensible, staid inner voice that refused to let her do anything unless she’d thought it through several hundred times. After all, what was the worst that could happen? She’d spend a little time with him, get to work on the house that she loved the most in the world and then send him on his way. Maybe it would even heal a little of the hurt that still resided in her chest if they parted as friends.

  “I told you I won’t make any promises,” she said. “But if you let me help you with the house and you promise not to sell it, I’ll give you a chance.”

  He contemplated her. His green eyes penetrated deep into her soul and he shifted so h
e stood in front of her. The kettle bubbled and clicked, making her jump.

  “You’ll seriously give me a chance, if I let you manage my house that I’m going to sell? And I mean a proper chance, Maddie. I’m deadly serious about wanting you back.”

  She nodded. Maddie’s throat was like sandpaper so she didn’t even try to respond. Sawyer leaned close and rested his palms on the marble worktop either side of her. She skipped her gaze from each hand, noting the thick width of them and the veins in the backs. They were man’s hands—so unlike the boy she’d known, even at eighteen. What would they feel like against her skin?

  “You want to do all that work just to save that house?” He came closer, moving as though doing a press-up. His muscles flexed against the flannel shirt.

  She nodded again.

  “And you’ll let me convince you that I’m the man for you?”

  “Yes,” she managed.

  Now he was close enough to kiss her. If she just pursed her lips and inched ever-so-slightly forward, their lips would be touching. But he was the predator here. Yet again, Sawyer had the advantage and she was twisted into knots. She longed to take back the power somehow and show him she wasn’t the same old Maddie, always playing it safe.

  Perhaps dating Sawyer wouldn’t be such a bad idea. He’d help her learn to make impulsive decisions. He’d help her live in the moment and all that sort of stuff.

  “You’ll let me...” his gaze dropped to her lips, giving her a view of those perfect long lashes against his cheeks, “convince you to marry me?”

  “Yes.” The word came out as thin as sheet ice. She wasn’t sure she’d said it aloud until his lips curved into a smug grin. What had she just said?

  Marriage? What? No. She didn’t even know him now. But it was too late. The word was out there.

  That smug grin made her want to shock him. It snapped something inside and she ducked out from the trap he’d created. She grinned. Now who had the power? He faced her and though the smug grin was still in place, it was a reluctant one of acknowledgement. She hoped he was suffering as much as she. She hoped he’d wanted to kiss her as badly as she’d wanted it. Maybe then she could have just a tiny fragment of power in whatever this was between them. It wouldn’t do to let him have it all.