Unexpectedly You

by Lily Santana

  “And how exactly am I going to convince—”

  “Ah-ah,” He lifted his finger to cut her off. “I’m not done. I’ll outline exactly how you’re going to do this.”

  She zipped her lips shut but balled her fingers into a fist at her sides.

  “This is actually the best part.” He wiggled his brow in that annoying way she hated. “You and I will be spending a lot of time in each other’s company in this next week.” He reached out and twirled a handful of her hair in his hands.

  She snatched her hair from his hand. “What do you mean in each other’s company?”

  “I mean we’re going to be inseparable.” He rubbed his palms together. “Like BFFs.”

  Her eyes widened. “BFFs? The tequila pickled your brain.”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Here’s the deal—David and your neighbors see you and me hanging around together, they start to think maybe I’m not the ogre they think I am. Not if Ms. Attila the Task Force thinks I’m nice enough to spend time with.”

  She found it hard to catch a breath. Sweat pooled between her breasts and her upper lip. “Let’s just say I went along with this stupid plan. Exactly what did you intend for us to do together?”

  He shrugged. “We’ll do whatever the hell you guys do around here. I want Bruin and the Planning Council to see me as part of the community. That I fit in. That I’m just like them.” His voice took on a grave tone. “Let me be clear. You only have less than a week to convince them, or the deal’s off. Get my drift?”

  Emma shook her head in disgust. “I was wrong. You’re not drunk. You’re insane.” She lunged for the door handle, but he captured her hand in his.

  “What are you afraid of? That you might actually like being in my company?” His voice sounded husky, or maybe she’d imagined it.

  The suffocating heat in the trailer crackled with energy. She drew in a short breath but all she got was a lung full of pure man scent. Unlike Stefan’s sandalwood cologne, Mitch smelled like morning-after sex. Raw, wild and dangerous. She shut her eyes to regain control of her body’s unwanted reaction to his nearness.

  When she’d first entered his trailer and realized he was half-undressed, her instinct had been to run back to the safety of her home. There was something so intimate about being around a man barefoot with his shirt undone. And part of her couldn’t keep her eyes off the trail of dark black hair that was visible just below his navel. She tugged to free her hand, but he raised it to his lips.

  She froze. Her heart struggled to pump blood that had thickened like molasses.

  He brushed his lips across her fisted knuckles. “I’m not so bad, you know. You might even enjoy yourself.”

  The heat of his skin burned a trail up her arm. Her stomach tightened and her nipples hardened. Oh, God.

  She didn’t want him to notice how her body reacted to his touch. He’d think she was pathetic. Here she was, a thirty-five-year-old single mom who had the hots for a sexy and gorgeous younger man. How cliché. She’d die of embarrassment. There was no way she’d ever agree to spend time with him.

  No way would she do it, not when she couldn’t trust her own body. Where was the repugnance she’d felt with Tim? Where was the heavy blanket of guilt? With Mitch, her body ruled her mind with its own agenda. And she knew damn well the consequences of such recklessness. She had a seventeen-year-old daughter to remind her, in case she forgot. Humiliation over her inappropriate physical reaction gave her the strength to yank her hand free of his grasp.

  With her hands still trembling, she snatched her cap and her coat. “You’re out of your mind.” She reached for the door handle again, but part of her was afraid that by opening the door, she’d be feeding the combustible energy inside the trailer with fresh oxygen and they’d be eaten alive by the inferno.

  “Don’t you want to know what you get out of the deal?” he asked, his expression one she didn’t recognize.

  When she made no attempt to crack open the door or say anything, her tongue still glued to the top of her mouth, he continued. “I’ll loan you the money to pay off your balloon payment and I’ll finance your business operations for a year on very good terms. I’ll even throw in some repairs around your house to bring it back to its former glory. All that for convincing Bruin and your neighbors that having my development go forward is good for Bella Del Mar.”

  The arrogant son of a... Emma closed her eyes as she forced her brain to focus. His idea was abhorrent. How would she ever be able to convince her neighbors that she’d had a complete change of heart? They’d think she’d lost her mind and her principles. She couldn’t seriously be considering his proposal, could she?

  But there was Sammy. She’d be able to come through on Stefan’s promise to Samantha. She wouldn’t have to break her daughter’s heart. She’d be able to save her home and roll out her new business ideas. She willed herself to be practical. He was asking her to help him improve his reputation with her neighbors. Of course, that meant instead of making him out to be the spawn of Satan, she’d have to do a complete about-face and now pretend to like him. Like him enough to hang out with him and parade him around town as if they were friends.

  She peeked at him from beneath her lashes and then cursed inside. She could pretend to like him for a week even if it killed her. But if it still didn’t work, then what?

  Mitch waited, his brows furrowed in that cynical expression she detested. Leave it to him to find a way to make her come out of her comfort zone. The man was dangerous to her feeling of safety and security. He was like a tornado, leaving a big old mess in its wake.

  She didn’t think there was anything she could do to change her neighbors’ minds about him. His action spoke for him. But what did she have to lose in trying? She’d parade him around town and the more her neighbors saw him, the more they would come to the same conclusion she’d made. Mitch only wanted what was best for him, and to hell with anybody else.

  She disliked what he stood for. She despised the way her body responded to him. It was shameful and a betrayal to Stefan’s memory. She shut her eyes as she struggled with her conscience and her fear.

  Emma let her hand drop from the door handle. Her fear won over her conscience. But she had stipulations. If he didn’t agree, she’d walk out and never look back.

  She faced him, lifting her chin even as her heart strained against her rib cage. “This, too, is nonnegotiable.” When he simply arched a brow, she continued, “A portion of the condominiums must be affordable. You’ll build your condos so it blends in naturally with Bella’s architecture, not all hard-edged glass and steel. You will use natural material whenever possible, lots of wood and local shrubbery. You will hire local artisans and nurseries to design the facade. And...Mrs. Madsen’s dog park stays.”

  Their gazes remained locked. Mitch’s nostrils flared and then he curled his lips up on one side, forming a wickedly dangerous grin. “Deal.”

  Chapter Six

  “You’ve made a deal with the devil himself,” Dorinda exclaimed, turning to Emma while she filled the canine cookie bar with home-baked treats.

  Emma pounded on the calculator, a sharpened pencil behind her ear. She’d spent the last hour trying to recalculate the amount of money she thought she’d need to expand her business. She was hoping she’d find an error in her math and realize the capital had been there all along. She’d give anything to march right back to Mitch McKenna and tell him to plunge off a cliff.

  Telling Dorinda about the deal she’d made last night wasn’t a smart move. But it was difficult to keep anything from her friend, who must have been an FBI interrogator in another life. Besides, it was hard to keep it secret when Mitch and his crew began work on her home at the crack of dawn.

  “Dorinda, remember, this is kind of a delicate situation. Please keep this to yourself. Don’t tell Lorraine, or any of your bingo ladies,
or Jack.” Dorinda was a mainstay at Surf & Sand. “Promise me,” Emma pleaded, even though she knew she had better luck hitting the Powerball.

  Dorinda’s eyes twinkled. “They’ll know something’s up. How do you plan to explain why he’s working on your property? What did Sammy say before she left this morning? I’m sure she saw them.”

  Emma’s lips quirked, recalling Sammy’s excited reaction. “She was thrilled. Thought it was nice of Mitch to do that since he can’t get started on his project yet. Very neighborly, she said. I let her think he was being generous. I didn’t want to worry her.”

  “The deal sounds positively too good to be true. Except, of course, for the part about changing everyone’s minds. How in heaven are you going to do that?”

  Emma smothered a groan when she remembered the terms of Mitch’s deal. She didn’t go as far as tell Dorinda the details. In any case, she still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to such an idiotic plan. “Not with his charm, that’s for sure.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I bet the man can be charming when he chooses, and God help us all when that happens.”

  Charming? Mitch McKenna? Unlikely. Granted, after she’d left his trailer last night, or more like stampeded out, she’d felt like she was drowning in surf-worthy waves. His nearness choked the air from her lungs. Feelings she hadn’t experienced in a long time surfaced. She’d woken up that morning with sea legs.

  But she’d also come up with a plan. She may have agreed to spend the next week in Mitch’s company, but it would be on her terms. If he wanted to win the heart of Bella Del Mar, he’d first have to prove he was worthy.

  A smile played on her lips as she imagined the possibilities. She turned to her friend. “Are you still short a caller for bingo tonight?”

  “Uh-huh. Why?”

  The front door chimed before Emma could answer.

  Mrs. Johnson, looking like the Pillsbury Doughboy bundled up from head-to-toe in a white down-filled jacket, walked in, bringing with her a chilly blast of pine needles and musky ocean air. “Morning, ladies. I think winter is upon us,” she said before scuttling toward the selection of books in the back.

  Shuddering, Emma zipped up her fleece sweater. “Good morning. No Black Jack today?”

  “Poor puppy’s in the car with the hubby. It’s just too ugly outside. I hope it stops raining before the weekend’s festivities.”

  The upcoming Pirate Festival was a local favorite. The town even went as far as having a doggy costume parade. Mrs. Johnson’s Jack Russell terrier had won last year.

  Emma nodded. “How does Black Jack like his costume? I think the eye patch makes him look fierce.”

  “Dear, I don’t think we’ll be able to keep the patch on his eye. He keeps trying to chew it. I’m afraid it might come out the other end.”

  “Lovely.” Emma exchanged a horrified look with Dorinda.

  Dorinda sighed, looking out the window. “Let’s hope we get better logrollers for this year’s competition. I’m tired of having to hear David boast all year.”

  “Stop it,” Emma admonished, her lips tugging at the corners.

  Dorinda turned to her. “You know it’s true. I’m surprised he doesn’t have the title Logrolling Champion etched on his door right next to Building Official. By the way, have you decided on what costume you’ll be wearing?”

  “I might just wear Sammy’s from last year. She won’t be using it. She doesn’t think she’ll be back in time for the festival.”

  Dorinda arched a brow. “You really want to wear that? That should be interesting.”

  Emma shot her a curious glance. “Why?”

  “Have you tried it on?”

  “Not yet.” She frowned. Was she thinking of a different outfit?

  Mrs. Johnson returned to the front and handed Emma a stack of books. “What’s going on with that construction business across the street? What are they doing on your property?”

  Emma drew in a short breath and reminded herself that she liked living in a small town. “I hired them to do some minor repairs. No big deal. Their project is temporarily delayed while David reviews their revised plans. I hear their new plan incorporates a lot of what we’ve asked for.”

  Dorinda chortled, and Emma shot her a disapproving look. She ignored Mrs. Johnson’s inquiring eyes, instead focusing on ringing up the woman’s purchases.

  “That young man has some nerve, thinking he could bulldoze his way here. I saw him on the television last night. He might be handsome, but he’s no match for you. You showed him what we’re made of.”

  Emma cleared her throat. “Well, maybe we were too quick to dismiss his ideas. I mean, we could use the additional foot traffic. If he’s willing to work with us, maybe we should be more open-minded.” She hoped she sounded convincing.

  Mrs. Johnson frowned. “What is he doing different this time?”

  “I think he—”

  “Why don’t you ask him yourself? He’s coming in now,” Dorinda interrupted, sounding out of breath.

  Emma jerked her head toward the door.

  All six-foot-two of dripping wet muscle walked inside, immediately sucking up all the oxygen in the tiny store. Wearing a brown bomber jacket and blue jeans that molded to the hard curve of his body, Mitch exuded pure rugged maleness, the kind fragrance companies tried to bottle up and sell. But his testosterone-infused image was ruined by the lavish bouquet of white daisies he had in one hand.

  Mitch ran his fingers through his damp hair and smiled, presenting the daisies to Emma. “These are for you. Had I known there were going to be two other young ladies with you, I would have brought more.”

  Emma’s heart tripled its beat. She darted a look back at Dorinda and groaned inwardly at the woman’s meaningful look. She tried to ignore Mrs. Johnson’s shocked face but it was difficult, considering the woman’s mouth hung open as if waiting for Holy Communion. Emma shifted her shoulder so only Mitch could see her mouth. “Flowers?”

  He winked. “I had a nice time last night.”

  Emma prayed for a sinkhole to open up and swallow her. Mortification simmered in her chest. She turned to Mrs. Johnson. “Mrs. Johnson, this is Mitch McKenna. Mr. McKenna and I were going over his new plans last night,” she explained.

  Mitch held out his hand. “My pleasure.” He turned to Dorinda, standing by the window and holding a wreath-shaped rawhide in midair. “Dorinda, nice to see you again.”

  Dorinda could only nod and wave, the mirth apparent in her sparkling blue eyes.

  Mrs. Johnson studied Mitch. “Have you finally come to your senses?”

  Mitch blinked, pretending ignorance. “I beg your pardon?”

  “This business of you turning our Bella Del Mar into a noisy, crowded mess. Have you changed your plans on what you intend to do to Mrs. Madsen’s property?”

  “Emma is working on changing my mind.”

  Mrs. Johnson’s gaze shot to Emma’s. “Has she succeeded?”

  He grinned like he swallowed the canary and the cat. “She’ll have to work on me a bit more.”

  Emma plucked the pencil from her ear and pretended to jot something on a piece of paper.

  “Why don’t I go get a vase from the back,” Dorinda offered, picking up the bouquet and practically tripping over her feet to get out of the room.

  “Thank you for the flowers, Mitch.” Emma cleared her throat. “Was there anything else?”

  Emma knew he sensed her uneasiness, but the man was being obtuse. Who was he kidding? Everyone was going to see right through his sickeningly sweet act.

  Instead of leaving, Mitch made himself comfortable by leaning his back against the front counter and crossing his ankles. He furrowed his brows as if trying to recollect something. “Mrs. Johnson. Mrs. Johnson. Are you the same Mrs. Beth Johnson who designed the amazing
quilt displayed in the community center?”

  Mrs. Johnson grinned from ear to ear. “Yes, I made it to commemorate the center’s reopening a few years back. I’m glad you like it.”

  In all the years Emma had known her neighbor, she’d never noticed the woman’s charming dimple before now.

  Mitch smiled. “It’s exquisite. I’ve always envied crafty people. It’s an art, what you do.”

  Emma almost gagged—that is, until she heard Mrs. Johnson’s reply. “Well, Emma can show you how. Emma, dear, maybe we should start up our quilting lessons again?”

  Emma could only nod and smile like an idiot. I’d like to show McKenna what I could do with a knitting needle.

  Mitch turned to her but posed his question to Mrs. Johnson. “In the spring when the project is completed, we’ll be looking for local art to hang in the main lobby. May we call on your expertise to help us?”

  Mrs. Johnson actually blushed. “I’d be delighted.”

  “It was pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Johnson. I’m hoping to see more of you. I’ve been here for almost a year and I haven’t had the chance to really meet everyone in the community.”

  “Is that so?” Mrs. Johnson tilted her head to the side. “If you really want to meet the neighbors, we’re having the doggy parade tomorrow at the beach. Emma, why don’t you bring Mitch? Oh, listen to me, calling you Mitch. May I call you Mitch?” she asked, batting her eyelashes like a schoolgirl.

  He grinned and winked. “Of course you can. Thank you for the lovely invitation. I’m looking forward to going.”

  Emma was going to be sick but she managed what she hoped was a smile and a nod. She refused to meet Mitch’s gaze.

  “It was very nice to meet you.” He held his hand out to Mrs. Johnson.