Bachelor Protector

by Julianna Morris

  “She would have made more money in a city.”

  Sarah gave him a stern look. “Money isn’t everything.”

  Tyler felt as if the Ghost of Christmas Past was tapping his shoulder. Money isn’t everything, he’d told his father when they’d argued about law school. Richard had agreed, claiming that influence and power were equally important, neither of which his son was likely to earn in architecture. He’d never changed his mind, despite Tyler’s success.

  “Are you okay?” Sarah asked. “You seem tense all of a sudden.”

  “I was just thinking about my father,” Tyler explained, surprised that she’d detected anything. “To be honest, I simply didn’t know him very well. I can’t remember a single time we ever just sat and talked.”

  Sarah’s gaze was sympathetic, and Tyler wished he’d kept his mouth shut.

  “It must hurt, knowing you can’t ever get to know him now.”

  Tyler sucked in a harsh breath.

  She was too perceptive.

  He didn’t regret the way he’d worked for his education; it had taught him the value of earning his own way. Yet it hurt to think about his father. Richard Prentiss’s death meant that nothing could ever be resolved with him.

  “We probably couldn’t have fixed our relationship, no matter how much time we had,” Tyler admitted. “We were too much alike.”

  Sarah had an unfathomable look on her face. “You called yourself an ice man. Is that how you saw him?”

  “In a way. I never understood what drove Dad, or what he cared about beyond his career. Maybe my mom did, but I didn’t.”

  “You’re also letting him influence whether you want children,” she said. “A few days ago, you mentioned being too much like him to be a good father.”

  Tyler prayed for patience. “The reason I don’t want children is because I’m uncomfortable around them and they feel the same way about me. I also travel too much to make a family happy and like my life too much to change it. Of course, since marriage is out, having children is unlikely. Unless I get careless, that is, and I’m never careless.”

  If anything, Sarah’s eyes became even more mysterious. “I’m sure you aren’t.”

  “That said, I’m aware my father was a lousy parental role model,” Tyler added firmly. “I’d probably make all of his mistakes and more of my own.”

  He frowned, deciding Sarah was dangerous to his peace of mind—somehow she’d gotten him to say things he’d never said to anyone. He didn’t want to become a touchy-feely guy with his emotions on his sleeve. It would make him vulnerable, and there were too many risks in that. Sarah didn’t seem to understand the risks, though she’d obviously been hurt in the past, including a hideous marriage and being abandoned by her own mother.

  Tyler looked at Sarah, suddenly curious. “How do you feel about your mom leaving like she did?”

  Her green eyes darkened. “I think she must have been a really unhappy person. I heard Dad and my grandparents talking about her when I was a kid. After the divorce my father saw my mom in a bar when he was on a layover in Hawaii, and he said she seemed so alone and pathetic that he stopped hating her. I was shocked. Dad was a knight in shining armor, saving the world. How could he hate someone? It took time to understand how much she’d hurt him. Now I mostly feel sorry for her.”

  Tyler focused on the Julia Morgan house again, not knowing what to say. It was a common problem when he was around Sarah. “She hurt you, too.”

  “I suppose, but I had a great childhood, surrounded by people who love me. Occasionally I’d spot an unknown woman who seemed to be watching, and I’d wish it was my mom, checking to see how I was doing. Mostly I wish Dad had found someone else to make him happy.”

  Sarah sounded more forgiving than Tyler would have felt. Whether or not she remembered the trauma of her mother leaving, something like that would have affected most people. Instead she’d chosen to see it in a different way. The urge to put an arm around her crept over him and he stuck his hands in his pockets. He was just a hard-nosed architect, and it was becoming clearer by the day that he shouldn’t have anything to do with someone as sweet and joyous as Sarah Fullerton.

  He was still mulling it over when a woman walked down the driveway, calling, “Sarah, what are you doing, just standing out here on the sidewalk instead of coming in?”

  “Hey, Aunt Emma. This is Tyler Prentiss. His mom works at the bakery. He’s an architect, so I wanted him to see your house.”

  “Welcome, Tyler.” Emma Fullerton smiled cordially. “Come in and explore.”

  They went through a side door and into the kitchen where he saw Sarah’s uncle stirring a pot on the stove.

  “What a treat, kiddo. I’m lucky to see you once a week, much less three times,” Daniel Fullerton told his niece. “Hi, Tyler, nice to see you again. I hope you’ll both have dinner with us. I’m making my deluxe spaghetti.”

  Before Sarah could say anything, Tyler shook his head. “That’s nice of you, sir, but I have a commitment.”

  He spotted the faintest roll of Sarah’s eyes. She was so outgoing and friendly herself, she probably couldn’t imagine what it was like to be in his shoes. Social occasions with large numbers of people were challenging enough, but he rarely made a good impression in more personal settings.

  “I don’t remember if told you that Tyler is an architect, Uncle Daniel,” Sarah interjected. “He’s offered to consult on possible renovations to my kitchens. He also admires Julia Morgan’s work, which is why I brought him over here.”

  Daniel nodded. “Wasn’t she incredible? What an extraordinary talent.”

  Emma laughed at her husband’s enthusiasm. “What’s this about renovations, Sarah?”

  “The county is considering new building codes. If they’re implemented, I’ll need to remodel again.”

  “Let us know what we can do to help.”

  Her husband nodded. “Whatever is needed, we’ll be there.”

  * * *

  SARAH GAVE HER aunt and uncle a strained smile. “I know. I told Tessa about it, and she said not to bother, just to use the kitchens at Poppy Gold. But I’d hate to divide my attention between two or three locations.”

  Aunt Emma nodded. “It’s a tough choice. Do whatever you think is best.”

  “We can make something happen,” Uncle Daniel declared. “I’ll—”

  “Why don’t you finish dinner?” Aunt Emma interrupted, giving him a stern look. “This is something Sarah has to decide.”

  Sarah hugged her. “Thanks,” she whispered. Aunt Emma understood how the Fullertons could overwhelm someone with help and advice. Emma often likened her husband’s family to a well-intentioned tsunami.

  “Sarah, why don’t you show Tyler around?” Aunt Emma suggested.

  “Great idea.”

  Sarah practically dragged Tyler out of the kitchen.

  “I didn’t see a historical marker outside,” he commented after they’d explored the ground floor and were climbing the central staircase. “This is the kind of place that belongs on the historic register.”

  Sarah’s stomach tightened with the unintentional reminder that someone had nominated her shop for the register. She’d truly thought it was a joke at the time, but now everything had a sinister undertone.

  She drew a calming breath. “Uncle Daniel and Aunt Emma plan to nominate the house when they get a chance. They even have the original blueprints in a safe deposit box so they can prove it’s a Julia Morgan design. Do you want to see the reproductions?”

  Tyler nodded, and she took him into Uncle Daniel’s home office, gesturing to the walls where framed copies of the blueprints were hung. He eagerly went to look at them.

  Sarah crossed her arms over her stomach and made a face at his back. There was no doubt that Tyler was getting to her more th
an she wanted him to. Half the things he said were opposite to her views. Even his perfect place to live sounded cold and remote...living alone in a glass loft, watching the city lights?

  If she lived in Paris, she’d want to explore every side street and sample the bakeries and shops. The museums and galleries would be second homes, and she’d go to outdoor markets like the Marché Bastille and make friends with the merchants and customers alike. But Tyler hadn’t mentioned any of that.

  You asked, Sarah’s conscience reminded her. A question he’d obviously never considered. It wasn’t fair to pass judgment on his answer.

  “As an architect, I’m sure those blueprints speak more to you than the rest of the family,” she said in an effort to regain Tyler’s attention.

  He didn’t answer, and she wondered what he’d do if she tried to invite a kiss...would he even notice?

  “Julia Morgan was remarkable,” he said finally. “I studied her work in college. Her use of native materials, especially redwood, was wonderful.”

  Jealousy tugged at Sarah. He was standing there, lost in admiration of a woman who, though amazing and talented, had been gone for sixty years. It was stupid. Tyler wasn’t interested in her, yet she still had a wicked impulse to brush against him or do something else to get his attention.

  If nothing else, she needed to remember they were in her aunt and uncle’s house.

  Sarah moved closer to the framed blueprint Tyler was examining with so much fascination. It was just a bunch of lines and writing to her.

  “I’m sure Uncle Daniel would let you look at the originals sometime,” she suggested.

  Tyler dropped his hand from where he’d been tracing a section of the blueprint. “Thanks, but I wouldn’t want to take a chance of damaging them. They may be fragile after so many years. It’s enough being able to see copies.”

  Wow.

  Scans of century-old blueprints had put that look of wonder on his face. Their gazes locked, and deep in his dark eyes Sarah saw a flicker of heat. She was on the verge of forgetting herself when she heard a downstairs door open and close and footsteps come running up the staircase.

  Sarah jerked backward. “Um, you told Uncle Daniel you had a commitment this evening. I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

  “Right, we should go. Mom and Nathan are expecting me for dinner,” Tyler muttered.

  His eyes still held a hint of warmth, and longing went through Sarah. But it wasn’t just sexual. A part of her wanted to pull him into a world of love and laughter and simple pleasures.

  Bad idea, she warned. Tyler didn’t want his life to change. He’d told her so himself.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  TYLER’S CHEST WAS TIGHT as he walked toward the sweet shop with Sarah. He’d wanted to kiss her, partly out of appreciation for showing him something amazing, but also for the simple reason that she was beautiful and intriguing. Her vivacious nature, her family’s close ties, this small town... They were a bigger mystery to him than anything he’d encountered.

  “We should get together some evening and discuss kitchen design,” he said. The words had popped out of his mouth without forethought and a mental groan followed. Wanting to see Sarah had little to do with kitchen design.

  “I suppose,” she said slowly. “But to be frank, I’m not sure that someone who doesn’t cook can plan a proper kitchen unless it’s by accident. Still, I’m happy to listen to your ideas, provided you listen to mine. I’ve dealt with two other architects, and I swear, nothing got through to them.”

  It was a reminder that she’d remodeled once when opening the business and again after signing the contract for Poppy Gold. She had to be sick to death of the entire process.

  “I’ll listen,” Tyler promised, more confident now that he was talking business. “But are you certain you don’t want to use the Poppy Gold kitchens permanently? It would be much less costly than remodeling or buying a different building.”

  “When I used Poppy Gold’s facilities during the second remodel, it felt as if I was running a factory. That isn’t what I want to do.”

  “I remember your opinion on factory baking,” he said. “I promise to listen to what you want. I don’t know if you can get the space you’ll need out of your building, but if you have to go through it again, I want to be sure the extra square footage is useful.”

  * * *

  SARAH KEPT HER GAZE forward, unsettled by the sincerity in Tyler’s voice. She’d been trying to keep the conversation light, but the undercurrents were too strong.

  “I have all the paperwork on my building blueprints at the house,” she said slowly. “It’s fine if you want to come over tomorrow night to see them.”

  “Great. I’ll get takeout.”

  “That isn’t necessary, I’ll bring something home from the shop,” Sarah said.

  Tyler was doing her a favor; she couldn’t let him provide a meal on top of that. Not to mention the “favor” still bothered her. He claimed it was an apology and that he needed something to do, but it didn’t make her any more comfortable.

  “Sounds good. Is six thirty too late?” he asked. “Nathan has an appointment tomorrow afternoon, and I don’t know long it’ll take.”

  “It’s fine.”

  He continued down the street toward Poppy Gold as Sarah went inside the shop. She quickly locked up the daily receipts and collected her purse and keys.

  With deliberate care, she walked around the catering vehicles, plugging them in and testing the special connectors. They weren’t likely to become disconnected by accident. She made a face, knowing that if she’d invested in a fast-charging station, they wouldn’t have had a problem that morning. Instead the vehicles took an overnight charge.

  A sound startled her, and she whirled around.

  “Tyler, what are you doing out here?”

  He looked embarrassed. “I wanted to make sure everything was okay, but you’re obviously taking care of it.”

  Sarah didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed. In his own way, Tyler appeared to have the same protective streak as her father and other relatives.

  But it wouldn’t be wise to read too much into his behavior. His career was on hold while an investigative commission decided his professional future. Yet instead of staying in Illinois, he was in California, helping his mother and brother through their problems.

  Boredom had to be influencing how he was acting, along with the need to protect his mother since she worked at the bakery.

  “Plugging the vehicles into the charging stations is part of my routine when I leave in the evening,” she explained.

  “Except you aren’t sure you did it last night.”

  “It’s so automatic, I don’t always consciously remember having done it. I’ve even called the shop a few times, asking them to double-check.”

  “Have you ever missed?”

  “Once. So it’s possible that with all the distractions lately, I just didn’t get it done last night.”

  Tyler stood there, tall and sexy, and Sarah felt a traitorous tug in her abdomen. She shook herself. “Aren’t Rosemary and Nathan waiting for you?”

  “Yeah. How about eating with us? Nathan has been in a foul mood since Sunday. He might sweeten up if you’re there.”

  Sarah tried not to laugh. Tyler wasn’t asking her for a date but for something just as personal...dinner with the family. Some people might see it as a meaningful step, but she knew better.

  “I’ll pass. Anyway, he’ll be more comfortable if it’s just the three of you.”

  “I suppose. Well, good night.”

  “Good night.”

  Tyler turned and strode up the alley while Sarah got into her car and debated with herself all the way home. She could have asked him to come over later...and tried to seduce him. The temptation was enor
mous. Several of her girlfriends who’d ended awful relationships advocated short-term liaisons as part of the recovery process. “Guys use us for sex—why not use them?” they argued.

  The idea bothered Sarah. If nothing else, how could you be sure you wouldn’t end up hurting a nice man? She also questioned whether her friends truly practiced what they’d preached. Not that it mattered. She was no longer “recovering” from her marriage. Douglas was behind her.

  As for Tyler?

  Getting involved with him would be like sticking her hand in a fire and expecting not to get burned. That didn’t mean her body wasn’t in favor of the prospect, even though her mind knew it was risky.

  At the house, Sarah went through the ritual of sitting on the couch while Theo ecstatically demanded attention.

  “You’re a pal,” she whispered as he turned over on his back, exposing the small white spot on his belly. She stroked him, and a purr boomed out.

  Sarah rested her head on the cushions as she rubbed behind his ears. In the morning, she’d call Zach and give him a heads-up about the harassment, but at this point a formal police report would still seem ridiculous.

  Still seem ridiculous?

  The words made her shiver, banishing everything else from her mind.

  It implied that more problems were coming.

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING, Kurt showed up at the Yosemite suite shortly after six thirty. Rosemary had invited him to breakfast, saying she hoped he wasn’t angry that she’d taken Sarah’s side earlier in the day but she hadn’t felt there was a choice.

  Kurt wasn’t bothered, at least now that he’d calmed down. He respected Rosemary taking a stance, even if it wasn’t one that helped him.

  Rosemary opened the door and gave him a tentative smile. “Good morning. Please come in.”

  Nathan hurriedly sat up on the couch. “Hey, Kurt. I didn’t realize...that is, I need to change. See you in a minute.”

  Kurt had only seen Nathan in passing since Sunday. Monday was a rushed day as Poppy Gold said goodbye to weekend travelers and greeted new ones coming in. And there were three large companies having conferences in Glimmer Creek, which took coordination from every member of the staff.