by Nicola Marsh
Hank knew the right time to tell Liv: later this week, before Marc left. He’d allay the young whippersnapper’s fears, Liv would know everything there was to know about him and they could look forward to the wedding.
Nothing could come between them. He loved her, she loved him. Simple.
Thankfully, Eric had agreed to buy him some time. While he’d never ask his friend to lie on a paid job, the speed at which Eric conducted his investigation was all-important and far be it for him to complain if Eric took an extra few days to give Marc the information he required.
But there was more to Marc’s continuing stay in Love and if he didn’t know any better he’d guess the young man had developed feelings for Sierra.
Considering Marc’s ruthless business reputation, Hank didn’t know if this cheered or annoyed him.
“Piece of advice?”
Marc nodded, his baffled expression that of a man in love, without a clue what to do about it.
“These dilemmas have a way of sorting themselves out. Do what’s right, do what you truly believe in, can’t go wrong.”
A wry smile creased Marc’s face. “I didn’t want to like you but you make it tough.”
Hank shrugged off the reluctant praise and gestured to the river. “It’s this place. A man can’t stay grumpy out here.”
Their gazes locked, the newfound respect in Marc’s gaze gladdening his heart. Hank doubted they’d ever be best mates but the fact Liv’s son had taken the time to get to know him was a good sign. His fiancée had been through enough without the two most important men in her life at loggerheads.
Marc raised his bottle, his expression lighter than a few minutes ago. “Cheers.”
“Bottoms up.”
Hank smiled behind his beer. Everything was falling into place and this time next week he could look forward to his wedding, secure in the knowledge nothing and no one could prevent the woman he adored becoming his wife.
Belle flipped the open sign to closed and ushered Sierra into the back room of her salon.
“Let me guess. You changed your mind about the Brazilian?”
Sierra grimaced and handed over the bag of bagels she’d picked up from the diner on her way over.
“You’d need to give me an anesthetic first.” She winced. “Even then I probably wouldn’t go through with it.”
“Chicken.”
“And proud of it. Now, pass me one of those bagels. I haven’t got long.”
“Desperadoes lining up this afternoon?”
She glared at Belle before joining in her laughter. “In that case, why aren’t you there?”
“I’m single and loving it.”
Belle split a bagel, slathered cream cheese and capers on both sides before demolishing half in one bite. “See? A guy wouldn’t approve of me doing that. He’d call me a fat pig.”
Sierra shook her head in amazement as Belle popped the rest of the bagel in her mouth and almost swallowed it whole.
“Where do you put it? If I ate half as much you do I’d be the size of Mount Rushmore.”
Belle licked her lips free of crumbs before sipping her soda and reaching for a choc-chip muffin chaser. “These curves need some serious maintenance.”
She patted her hips and wiggled her DDs. “You can’t get this sort of body by nibbling on carrot sticks.”
“Tell me about it. If I thought eating carrot sticks could give me a gorgeous bod like yours I’d consume so much you’d call me Bugs.”
Belle grinned and mimicked chewing an imaginary carrot out the side of her mouth. “What’s up, Love Doc?”
“Not much, unfortunately,” she said, wondering why she couldn’t shake the disappointment that plagued her since returning from LA last night.
She should’ve been glad she didn’t have to spend the night with Marc. Instead, she’d been preoccupied at work all morning, her mind wandering from snippets of conversation they’d had yesterday to that mind-blowing kiss on top of Mount Eros.
The way he’d held her, the way he’d touched her, haunted her all night and most of this morning. Since when did she moon over a guy? Time to snap out of it.
“No action, huh?”
“I wasn’t expecting any.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
She caught a glimpse of Belle’s knowing grin before her friend bit into her second muffin.
“Word of advice. If you don’t want your best friend knowing when you’re hoping to have sex, get your bikini wax done elsewhere.”
“Whatever happened to client-beautician confidentiality? You’re not supposed to discuss what bits I have waxed while we’re in friends’ mode.”
“Aren’t we always in friends’ mode?” Belle mumbled with half a muffin in her mouth.
“Guess so.”
Sierra sighed, toyed with the bagel she’d barely touched, contemplating how much further that kiss on the mountaintop would’ve gone if those pesky kids hadn’t interrupted.
“If you’d rather not talk about him, fine by me. I’ll just assume my theory is correct and we can move onto more important topics, like Essie’s affair with Chuck and who’s going to win the kiss-a-thon at Love Fest this year.”
“What theory?”
Sierra didn’t like the sound of this. Belle’s theories had a happy knack of being way too accurate and were based on fact more often than not.
“The one that says you have it bad for this guy. Real bad.” Belle dusted off her hands, sat back on her purple couch and reached for a nail file.
“Do not.”
“Do too.” Belle concentrated on her nails as she started filing.
“No way.”
“Yes way.” Her file flew faster, buffing her already perfect nails to a pearly sheen.
“God, I hope not.”
“Well, I hope so.”
“Stop saying the opposite of everything I say.”
“Stop being such a baby and sit up and smell the freesias.” Belle’s file stopped and her frowning glare meant business. “You don’t date, you bury yourself in work and spend your life making happily-ever-after happen for other people. When are you going to practice a little of that lovin’ you’re so darn good at preaching to everybody else? Besides, I’m tired of having this same conversation with you over and over. I point out the truth, you argue with me. We’re starting to sound like a couple of bickering kids.”
Sierra tried not to gape at her friend. Usually Belle joined her in commiserations over guys: more trouble than they were worth, good for the occasional date, that’s it. As for loving the weaker sex, smart girls like them wouldn’t deliberately choose to get their hearts broken. If they wanted a good cry, they’d go see a chick flick.
“What’s gotten into you?”
Belle shrugged. “This dirty-thirty thing is over-rated. Maybe it’s time we changed our game plan and grab the first decent player that enters the golf course.”
Sierra couldn’t hide her surprise as her jaw dropped.
“In your case I think he’s arrived and if you’re lucky he’ll show you his clubs and balls.” Belle leaned over and closed her jaw with a finger under the chin. “And you better be ready to play with them.”
“I thought you loved being thirty.”
“It’s not quite as dirty and flirty as I expected.”
Sierra shook her head as if waking from a dream. “I don’t believe this. Are you saying you’re ready for a relationship?”
The cheeky grin she’d grown to rely on, whether in times of fun or stress, reappeared.
“Maybe. Anyway, we’re not talking about me. You’ve got this guy in your sights, go for it.”
“What’s the point? He’ll be gone soon.”
For some inexplicable reason, Sierra wanted more than a fling this time. Marc Fairley sparked something within her, something she’d never felt before. He made her want to tease him, to match wills with him, to talk long into the night with him.
“Ever heard of living in the moment? Why not
take a chance and see where it leads? What have you got to lose?”
Everything.
Her mom had fallen for a guy out of her league and look how that had ended: a broken heart for Dolores, who’d eventually fled the country with another poor choice, forever searching for something or someone to fill the void in her life, and a lonely little girl who wouldn’t take a chance on love for fear of the same thing happening to her.
“Love sucks.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she cringed, knowing Belle would pounce on her slip-up quicker than Ripley on a bone.
“Who said anything about love?”
“Figure of speech.”
She waved away Belle’s question as if it meant nothing when in fact she hoped to God it had been a slip of the tongue rather than some Freudian wish.
Her, in love? No freaking way.
In love with Marc Fairley? Never.
“Whatever you say.” Belle shrugged. “Though you know better than to doubt my theories.”
That’s what terrified Sierra the most. What if Belle’s theory had already morphed into fact?
CHAPTER TEN
Cupid’s Dating Tips for the Enlightened Male
Nothing is sexier than a guy doing housework, unless he has dinner simmering on the stove too. (Naked under the apron for optional brownie point.)
Marc stared at the file in front of him, focusing on the photo rather than the print.
Sierra’s deep blue eyes lost none of their startling clarity in the picture, their unique color reminding him of the cloudless Californian skies of his youth when he’d float on his back in their Olympic size pool, dreaming of flying into all that endless blue. He hadn’t become a commercial pilot or an astronaut or an air force jet commander. In fact, none of his childhood dreams had come true.
The one about a happy family? No.
The one about a father who spent time with his son and was proud of him? Hell no.
So he’d settled for the next best thing. Financial security. At least he could count on money; a cold, tangible commodity that didn’t let him down, that was always there for him and that could buy anything he wanted.
Almost.
He focused on Sierra’s picture again, wondering what made the gorgeous redhead tick. Sure, he had the basic info on her, her life laid out in front of him by Finders-Keepers but it wasn’t enough.
When he’d first commissioned them to find out as much as possible about the proprietor of the dating agency his mom had used, he’d never in his wildest dreams expected this.
Sierra Kent was something else and he wanted more.
But the vulnerability he’d glimpsed in her beautiful eyes that evening on the mountain, the night her father died, scared him. He didn’t want to hurt her, especially as he hadn’t decided what to do about her company being on his hit list.
Besides, she had to live in this town after he’d gone and satisfying his lust with a quickie would only fuel the gossip. He couldn’t set foot in town without some local bailing him up about his spending time with young Sierra and he reckoned half the yokels would form a posse and follow him back to LA with shotguns if he did more than have the occasional meal with their local darling.
Strangely, William had made a few remarks when he’d dropped her file off. His butler had spent all of ten minutes with Sierra when Marc had stopped by the house to pick up his stuff yet William was acting as if she was his long lost daughter, giving him subtle advice about knowing the difference between prime rib and sausages. By what he’d said, William thought he’d dated a lot of sausages in his time.
Marc smiled at the recollection, appreciating the relationship he had with William. The Englishman had been more of a father to him over the last six years than George had ever been and he freely offered his opinion on anything and everything, from the stock exchange to his beloved cricket.
Looked like Sierra had made another conquest without trying and he better watch his step if he didn’t want William joining the Love lynch-mob if he stepped out of line.
Glancing at his watch, he wondered what was keeping William. His butler had arranged to bring new work files to Love daily while he was staying here, which saved him a trip to LA.
In another first William had come up with the suggestion himself, a phenomenon that rarely happened. Usually, he followed orders to the nth degree but this time he’d pushed the idea and had been none-too-subtle about it.
If he didn’t know any better he’d hazard a guess William had a love interest of his own in this whacky town, before laughing out loud at the thought. William was the epitome of discreet in all aspects of his life and Marc doubted he’d roll into town and find a floozy. No way.
His cell rang as his gaze wandered back to Sierra’s photo and he closed the file before answering. She’d distracted him enough for one day.
He hit the receive button, his fingers toying with the edges of the file. Maybe one more peek at that photo. “Marc Fairley.”
“Hey boss, it’s me. Still in Love?” Rob guffawed, his standard daily greeting grating on Marc’s nerves as it usually did.
“Anything new on the Tech file? I want the deal ready to close over the next few weeks.”
So he could rub the old man’s nose in it. As if he didn’t despise his father enough he’d read an article in the Los Angeles Business Journal on Monday where George was boasting again, saying Fairley Enterprises would never be ousted from top spot.
That didn’t raise his hackles as much as George’s addendum where he’d gone on to say his closest rival, who happened to be A-Corp, was having problems with an absentee CEO and rumors of dissension among the ranks.
A load of bullshit, typical of George’s tactics to undermine his opposition but right now Marc could do without the publicity. He didn’t want the media getting hold of his whereabouts or the real reason he was in town.
His mom had gone through enough with her divorce, she didn’t need some journo from a business rag hounding her for a comment about her ex and her son going head to head in the business arena.
Only William and Rob knew his whereabouts and he’d sworn them to secrecy. Both men knew their heads would roll if they breathed a word to anyone, not that William would ever dream of it. Rob, on the other hand, would sell his soul if there were a dollar in it.
“You still there, boss?”
“Yeah,” he snapped, irritated by his wandering concentration. He couldn’t seem to focus on anything these days, his mind constantly flitting from one thing to the next, settling back on Sierra and how out of control she made him feel. “I’m waiting for your update on the Tech file. What’s going on?”
Rob sniggered. “Like you don’t know, you sly dog.”
He rubbed his forehead, wishing his deputy wasn’t such an astute businessman. That way he could fire Rob’s sorry ass and find a replacement that didn’t make him want to throttle him every time he opened his mouth.
“What are you talking about?”
“Your little plan to scope out that dating agency? Nice one, boss. I knew there was more to you spending time in that dead end hole than catching up with your mom.”
“I’m not here to—”
“I know. You couldn’t wait to get all the info on that Internet company so you decided to dig around yourself. I hear the owner’s a hottie too, you lucky prick.”
Marc’s hand clenched so hard he almost snapped the phone. “You’re wrong—”
“You always get a jump on our victims. I get it. As long as I get my cut too, I’m rapt.”
Victim. Sierra would be a victim if he proceeded with this acquisition.
Hell.
Why did her agency have to be the number one Internet dating site in California, a successful lucrative business that made it prime acquisition material and landed it in the Tech file? His Tech file, the one that would take him to the top of his field, the same file that would end any possibility of having more than a conversation with the one woman to capture
his attention in a long time.
“Learn anything new, boss? How soon are we moving in for the kill?”
“Leave it with me.” Marc deliberately kept his voice devoid of emotion, eager to get rid of his deputy and buy some thinking time.
“If you say so. Though if you get bored give me a ring. I wouldn’t mind taking a shot at mixing business with pleasure.”
Marc gritted his teeth and refrained from punching one of Flo’s overstuffed cushions at the thought of Rob laying a finger on Sierra.
“Don’t take too long getting the dirt, boss. We need to move within the next week. I’ve already wrapped up the MegaRam deal so once this dating agency is in the bag and we acquire Ergo Designs, that’s it. We’re numero uno.”
Marc could imagine the expression on Rob’s face: greed and arrogance, trademarks of a businessman at the top of his field, a guy used to buying out companies, carving them up and selling them to the highest bidder.
Marc thrived on the thrill of an acquisition, the challenge of making seemingly unobtainable deals happen. He’d strived to become successful in his own right, his driving ambition to oust top dog George a powerful motivator and now, with his goal within reach, he’d hit a snag. A big one.
“Keep me posted. I’ll handle things from here.”
And try not to make a total mess in the process, he thought as he snapped his cell shut.
Damn, he couldn’t see an easy way out.
Obtain his goal, lose the girl.
Before he came to this crazy town he wouldn’t have hesitated. Business came first, always. Losing sight of the goal meant losing period and if there was one thing he hated more than anything in this world it was losing.
Maybe he had some of the old man’s genes in him as much as he hated to admit it and like his driven father he never let anything or anyone interfere with his decision-making. It hadn’t steered him wrong to date.
So what had changed now?
He wished he could say nothing but he wasn’t delusional. Meeting Sierra Kent had affected him. He couldn’t stop thinking about her and the more time he spent with her the more intrigued he became.