by Heidi Betts
“Got any milk?”
It was her turn to raise a brow. Milk was certainly the perfect choice of drink to go with a plate of fresh-from-the-oven cookies, but for some reason, she hadn’t expected such a request from a man like Eli, who just last night had shown up on her doorstep filled with double malt Scotch.
“Of course,” she told him, moving first to the cupboard, then the refrigerator.
She poured them each a glass before hopping up on her stool and snatching a cookie for herself. Eli had already chomped through three of the rich, fattening blobs, but Kara rarely did more than sample her own treats. After all, she knew what went into them and how many calories she would be forced to burn off at the gym if she overindulged.
“So,” she prompted, after they’d both spent a few minutes chewing and washing the crumbs down with sips of cold milk. “What is it you wanted to discuss? Concerns about the dissolution of the wedding plans?”
She cringed inwardly the moment the words were out of her mouth. How could she be so thoughtless? Why hadn’t she kept her stupid mouth shut?
It was too early to be bringing up the called-off marriage vows in such a callous fashion. Eli had to be stinging still from Laurel’s rejection. She could have just as easily sat here while they enjoyed their cookies and let him get to his reason for dropping by in his own sweet time.
Eli, however, didn’t seem fazed. He finished off the cookie in his hand, washed it down with a gulp of milk, and then wiped his mouth with the napkin she’d provided, before speaking.
“You said you could handle all of that, so unless you need me for something, I’d rather leave everything to you.”
“All right,” Kara replied carefully. If he didn’t need to talk to her about that, then what did he need to talk to her about?
Please not the kiss…please not the kiss…please not the kiss…
“I’m not sure I’ve mentioned before how impressed I was with your work on the wedding plans.”
He said it in the same tone of voice he might compliment her cooking. No hint of pain or resentment or happiness.
“You’re very efficient and have great taste.”
“Thank you,” she responded, still choosing her words carefully.
“Which got me to thinking that Houghton Hotels and Resorts might benefit from your expertise.”
All right, Kara thought slowly, that was unexpected. But aloud, she said, “How so?”
“We do a lot of high-end events—weddings, anniversaries, birthday parties, bar mitzvahs—especially at the Ocean Breezes location. The one on Seabrook Island,” he clarified, as though she wasn’t already more than familiar with every one of his half-dozen-and-growing hotels.
“At the moment, we have a resort employee handling that sort of thing, but I think we could do an even better job and become even more of a go-to site for large, upscale special occasions if we had a professional on board who really knew what she was doing, and whose only job was to plan and oversee those events.”
Seconds passed while she absorbed his statement and tried to make sense of it. “Are you asking me to give up Prestige Events and work for you instead?”
He shook his head, sneaking another cookie. “Of course not. Prestige is your baby, I understand that. But if you’d be willing to branch out a bit, maybe sub-contract some work, I really think I could use your input.”
She let another beat or two go by. “What, exactly, are you asking me to do?”
“Come with me to Ocean Breezes for a few days,” he said casually around half a bite of butter pecan. “I know the wedding was the only project on your agenda for the next few weeks, so now that it’s been called off, I assume you’re free. With the exception of canceling everything, of course, but since we’ve got telephones and fax machines at the Seabrook Island location, that shouldn’t be a problem.”
“And what would I do once I got there?” she asked, amazed at how calm she sounded when inside she felt as though a Fourth of July parade was marching up and down her spine. She tingled all over, torn between the excitement of an offer that could lead to some very lucrative business for her firm, and the trepidation of being forced to—getting to?—spend more time in Eli’s presence.
“Look around. Talk to the woman I’ve got in charge of special events for the resort at the moment. Review some of our past events to see what we’re doing right, and what we might be doing wrong.”
“And then…?” she prompted.
Downing the last of his milk, he set the empty glass on the countertop with a clink. “And then we’ll talk. You can give me your honest assessment of how we’ve been handling things. I suspect I’ll want to discuss the possibility of contracting Prestige Events for a bit of work in the future, but I’m happy to take things a step at a time.”
“So you just want me to visit the resort with you, offer my planning expertise.” She made it a statement, but it was really a question.
“Exactly.”
He flashed her a dazzling smile, one not dotted with a single crumb, while she would probably look like Cookie Monster if she smiled that wide.
“Look at it this way,” he added when she kept her mouth firmly closed. “If it ends up being a waste of time, business-wise, at least you got a nice, all-expenses-paid weekend getaway out of it.”
She thought that over for a minute, weighing all of the pros and cons in her head—or at least the ones she could fathom at that particular moment.
Pro: This was Eli, a man she’d known since adolescence and knew she could trust. He might be an accomplished businessman and drive a hard bargain when it came to negotiations, but he would never cheat or try to take advantage of her.
Con: This was Eli, the man she’d had half a crush on for three-quarters of her life, and who had kissed her last night like he meant it.
Pro: Being asked to consult for one of Eli’s multi-million-dollar hotels—any of them, but the uber-luxurious Seabrook Island location, especially—was a huge opportunity, professionally speaking.
Con: Her sister had just broken up with him the day before. Both the kiss last night and his offer today were likely responses to being jilted by his fiancée only a month before they were scheduled to exchange vows.
Pro: Getting out of town for a few days and keeping his mind on business would probably be one of the best ways for him to avoid a lot of the gossip, and help him heal from the breakup with Laurel. Not that he would ever admit he was suffering or needed time to recover.
Con: Going away with Eli—regardless of the fact that it would be business-only—might not look good to outside observers. Sister of bride-to-be runs off with groom-to-be the week after wedding is called off… It was a headline waiting to happen.
And how would Laurel feel about her doing such a thing? Would she understand that Kara was simply exploring a golden business opportunity, or would she see it as a personal betrayal by her very own sister?
It was like being on a seesaw—back and forth, good and bad.
Tipping her head to the side, she studied him, trying not to let his handsome face or cappuccino-brown eyes influence her decision.
“All expenses paid, hmm?” she murmured.
“Yep.”
“That’s an awfully tempting offer.”
“Wait until you get there. You’ll think you’ve died and gone to paradise.”
He wiggled his brows, making her chuckle in spite of her determination not to.
“I’d like to say yes,” she told him, “but think I should sleep on it at least one night. And…I’m sorry,” she said after a slight hesitation, “but I need to talk to Laurel about it first. With everything that’s going on right now, I wouldn’t feel comfortable taking off unless she and the rest of my family are okay with me being gone.”
“Of course,” he responded quickly, pushing back from the countertop and climbing to his feet. “Take as long as you need…as long as you don’t take too long,” he added with a wink.
She followed hi
s lead, trailing him out of the kitchen.
“If you decide you want to go, we can leave as early as Friday morning,” he said as they reached the front door. Just like the night before, he turned with his hand on the knob.
At the memory of that, and of what had come next, Kara tensed, her nerve endings going on high alert. She hoped to heaven he didn’t try to kiss her again…and at the same time wished he would.
“And if I decide I don’t?” she ventured to ask.
He cast her a glance that clearly said he didn’t expect to be turned down, no matter how long she took to make up her mind.
“Then I’ll hie you away to one of HHR’s closer locations instead,” he said simply.
A shiver tightened her belly and squeezed her throat. She knew he was talking business, but he made it sound for all the world like an intimate proposition. Like a visit to one of his hotels would be spent in a penthouse suite, burning up the five-thousand-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets rather than touring the location and offering advice for improving their event-hosting skills.
As though he could read her mind and knew exactly what was making her temperature rise, one corner of his mouth lifted.
“Thanks for the cookies,” he murmured. “Call me when you decide what you want to do.”
And then he was gone, slipping out the door and leaving her alone in her foyer. Without attempting to kiss her again.
Five
Eli was in the middle of reviewing a handful of renewal contracts with some of his hotels’ vendors when his receptionist buzzed.
“Kara Kincaid on line three,” she said, then clicked off without waiting for a response.
Taking his time, he glanced at his watch.
Four hours. That was fast. He hadn’t expected to hear from her until at least tomorrow, given her comment that she needed to “sleep on it.”
Of course, he didn’t know that she was calling to accept his offer. She could just as easily be calling to give him a short and sweet rejection.
Hoping that wasn’t the case, he picked up the receiver and brought it to his ear.
“Hello, darlin’,” he greeted her in his—he hoped—friendliest and most cajoling voice.
It must have caught her off guard because the only thing he heard for the count of ten was silence.
“If you’re still interested in having me go to Seabrook Island with you,” she said slowly, as though she were weighing her words carefully, “then I accept your offer.”
“Excellent,” he drawled, trying not to let his mouth curve into a Cheshire-cat smile and failing miserably. “I’ll pick you up at eight o’clock Friday morning. Will that work?”
“That will be fine,” she replied primly.
“Pack for the beach,” he told her in a low, just-this-side-of-seductive tone. “See you then.”
He hung up before she could reply and while his luck was still running strong.
* * *
He pulled up in front of her row house bright and early Friday morning, five minutes before eight. Normally when he visited his resort on Seabrook Island, he drove his BMW Z4 Roadster convertible. It was a sexier, sportier vehicle, and he enjoyed the sting of the open air as he tooled down the expressway, then past burgeoning marshes and canopies of oak and cypress trees as he got closer to the magnificence of the Atlantic Ocean.
But this time, because he wanted to appear harmless and lull Kara into a false sense of security, he was driving the Mercedes-Benz. Safe, comfortable, subtly impressive—it should create the perfect impression for Step One of Operation Win Over Kara Kincaid.
Amazing, he thought, that only two days after being dumped by his fiancée, he was preparing a systematic seduction of her sister. It sounded shameless, even in his own mind, and he was sure there would be plenty of folks within Charleston society who would whisper and shake accusing fingers behind his back.
Not that he gave a tinker’s damn. They could say anything they wanted to about him, the same as they had when he was a scraggly foster kid newly moved in with the Youngs—one of the wealthiest families in Charleston, with blood that was very blue and could probably be traced back to the Mayflower.
Boy, he’d had a chip on his shoulder back then. He’d been bitter and angry about the hand life had dealt him, putting on a tough front to keep from being hurt again. He’d been scared, too, never knowing when another shoe might fall or what might be waiting around the next corner.
But having the Youngs take him in, treat him like their own, and not give up on him no matter what, the way so many other foster families had in the past, had taught him self-assurance. They had raised him to be confident in his own thoughts and decisions, regardless of others’ opinions.
He wanted Kara Kincaid, and just as he’d gone after building his multi-million-dollar enterprise with his head down, full steam ahead, he intended to go after her.
Until this week, he’d thought he had his life together, both personally and professionally. It was startling to realize how far off-base he’d been in that assessment.
He’d thought he was happy with Laurel—and would be for the next fifty years. Now, the only woman on his mind, the only woman he could fathom spending the rest of his life with, was Kara.
He’d been dating the wrong sister. Planned to marry the wrong sister. Thank God Laurel had put a halt to things when she did, otherwise they both might have made the biggest mistake of their lives.
Cutting the engine, he stepped out of the car and pocketed the keys. At this time of morning, most of the residents on Kara’s street had already left for work, but a few people were out walking their dogs or tending their flowers.
Stopping at the curb, he waited for an older woman to pass, offering her a polite smile. She was obviously out for her daily walk, dressed in a hot pink tracksuit with matching head and wristbands.
She was also eyeing him like the captain of the Neighborhood Watch. He wouldn’t be surprised if she hit the corner, turned around and came back to see if he was welcome on Kara’s doorstep or deserving of a call to the police.
Biting back a chuckle, he crossed the sidewalk and strode to the front of Kara’s house, using the antiqued brass knocker to give a couple good raps. Moments later, Kara opened the door.
Her hair was down, falling around her face and shoulders in fat chestnut waves instead of pulled back into a loose bun or intricate twist the way she normally wore it when she worked. Her glasses were also missing, another habit he’d noticed more often than not when she was on personal time and didn’t need to look quite as pulled-together and professional.
Her clothes, too, were more casual and beach-worthy, just as he’d advised. She wore a short-sleeve floral blouse made of some sort of flowy, lightweight material, with a lime-green skirt and sexy but comfortable sandals on her feet.
Minimum jewelry—just a small gold cross necklace and gold hoops at her ears. It was understated, but classy and totally Kara. He liked it.
But as beautiful as she looked, she also looked nervous. Her eyes were hooded, her mouth crooked as she nibbled on the inside corner of her lower lip, and he couldn’t help but notice the constant, fidgety movements of the hand hanging at her side.
Eli almost felt sorry for her. He’d tried hard not to make her uncomfortable with his invitation to visit his resort. He’d avoided touching her or getting too close, and he’d very pointedly not mentioned the kiss they’d shared, even though it was practically the only thing he’d been able to think about since.
The smell of her, the taste of her, the feel of her soft body pressed ever so lightly against his own… Just the memory of that short kiss had the power to heat his blood all over again.
He was hoping for an encore very, very soon, but couldn’t let Kara know that was his number one priority. If he did, she was likely to get spooked and run all the way back to Charleston.
Not that Eli could blame her. He suspected she was just as interested in him as he was in her, but the circumstances were far
from ideal.
A week ago, he’d been on the fast track to becoming her brother-in-law. Now, he had his sights set firmly on her. He could just imagine the checklist she would come up with of all the reasons they should avoid each other like the bubonic plague.
Which meant he had only the weekend to convince her otherwise. To convince her that the attraction humming between them was worth exploring, regardless of the gossip it was likely to create.
Gossip died down…eventually. But he wasn’t sure his yearning for her would. Or that, if he let her go, he would ever get another chance at something like this. A chance to be with a woman he thought might be The One.
It was a bold move for him. Deciding to propose to Laurel had taken months of careful consideration. He’d analyzed every aspect of their relationship—past, present and possible future—before concluding that she was a prudent choice to become his wife. And that only after taking even longer to decide he wanted a wife at all.
For the past few years, he’d felt as though something was missing from his life. He had a good, solid family now, and had long ago come to terms with his past and childhood origins. His business was booming, too, so there were no holes there.
The same couldn’t be said about his personal life, however. In that respect, he had been sadly lacking.
Which was why, after mulling it over, he’d decided settling down and starting a family was the wisest course of action. It had taken quite a while longer to narrow down his list of possible brides-to-be and land on Laurel Kincaid.
She’d seemed so perfect. On paper, anyway.
Little had he realized how overrated on-paper perfection was.
Laurel was a lovely woman, inside and out. She would be a wonderful wife for some man someday. Of that, Eli had no doubt. But that didn’t mean she was the perfect wife for him.
No, he suspected that role might be better suited to Laurel’s sister. Which was awkward, to be sure—but not impossible.
He only hoped he could convince Kara to be as open-minded as he was feeling these days. But in order to do that, he had to start slow and do his best not to let her know he had more than simply business in mind for their weekend away.