by Coleen Kwan
Amber huffed impatiently. “You don’t fool me, Logan. You want me to waste time on this instead of figuring out how to stop your plans.”
“No, that’s not what I’m thinking,” he protested, unexpectedly hurt that she should think him so devious. “Look, we should go somewhere private and discuss this. Let me take you out to lunch.”
“Lunch? You want to take me out to lunch?” She was staring at him as if he’d lost his marbles.
“Yeah. What’s so crazy about that?” There was that new Italian place in the hills overlooking the lake. He pictured them at a table under the grapevines, eating antipasto and sipping chilled white wine.
Amber made a strange noise that sounded like a strangled laugh. “Where? At the country club?”
He shook his head, repelled at the idea of the stuffy, old-fashioned club his parents and so many of his contemporaries favored. “No, definitely not there.”
Her smile became brittle. “Of course not. Wouldn’t want to be seen with me around your peers.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I won’t have lunch with you, and I won’t fall for your scheming.”
“I don’t need to scheme to get my way. The other owners would agree to sell if it weren’t for you. You’re the only one who’s really objecting, and I get it. You don’t want to lose your business. I understand, but I also know that I could increase my offers to your neighbors, and eventually they’d sell. So you see, I don’t need any underhanded games to beat you.”
Her breathing increased, and she flexed her fingers, her body rigid as if she were about to launch herself at him. The rise and fall of her chest distracted him, but it was the fire in her eyes that held his attention. She was magnificent, even when she was mad at him.
“Then why are you even pretending to go along with the mayor?” she spit out, flicking a stray lock of hair away from her brow. “Why don’t you wave your checkbook and be done with it?”
Because he wanted to spend more time with her, he realized with a jolt. Damn, surely that wasn’t true? But the thrumming in his veins told him it was. Just thinking about Amber was enough to set off a hum in his blood, and every minute spent with her ratcheted up that hum. Crap. There was no way in hell he’d admit that to her or anyone else.
“Because I’d like to help these kids. I know Ryan Claybourne, the CEO. He’s a good friend of mine from high school.”
“Figures. You know all the important people around here.”
“Ryan runs a great organization on not much money. These playhouses would mean a lot to the kids.”
“Yeah, you’re such a kind and caring soul.”
“I am. Plus, I don’t want to pay more for these properties than what they’re worth.”
“Spoken like a true hardnosed businessman.”
“And finally, if you work with me on this project, who knows what you might wrangle from me? We might be able to work out some deal that’s mutually beneficial.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I can’t see that happening.”
“Then you’re being close minded about it, and I don’t think you’re that type of person.” He spread his hands, trying to appear disarming. “I’m giving you a chance to get some concessions out of me. I don’t have to, but I’m willing. This is your best shot, Amber. If you refuse, you’ll never get the mayor’s support, and despite what he says, he does have influence with the planning committee. I’ll still go ahead and build those playhouses, which will make you look churlish and self-absorbed to the rest of the town. Is that what you really want?”
Scowling, she stared down at the floor. After a few seconds she looked up. “You’re so sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
He wasn’t. In fact, he’d been holding his breath waiting for her decision, but now he let himself relax as he saw the answer in her eyes.
“It’ll be fun building something together,” he said, trying to sound soothing.
“Don’t think you can sweet talk me into selling you my store.”
“Honey, if I were going to sweet talk you into anything, it wouldn’t be that.”
A faint color seeped into her cheeks, making her look surprisingly vulnerable. “Don’t call me honey.”
“You’re right. You’re not like honey. You’re more like lemon. Tart and tangy.”
“And you’re like Turkish coffee.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “Because I’m smooth, dark, and satisfying?”
“No. Because a little sip is all I can take.” She tucked her purse under one arm and as she began to stride away she threw over her shoulder, “Not to mention the unpleasant mud at the bottom.”
He couldn’t help chuckling. “I’ll call you when I get the details from Ryan.”
She hunched her shoulders, which he supposed was her way of acquiescing, and continued walking. He stared after her, mesmerized by the sway of her hips and the shapely contours of her long legs. A man in a suit seemed equally fascinated by her, so much so that he walked smack bang into a pillar.
Let that be a warning to you, Logan told himself, his smile fading. He was a fool to go along with the mayor’s scheme. If he had any sense, he should forget about Amber and negotiate directly with the other store owners. With four of them wanting to sell, she’d have no option but to cave in and sell, too. He was sorry she’d lose her business, but she’d have enough to start another. Maybe not a muffin store, as the mayor had so unhelpfully suggested, but something else. She was smart and hardworking; it wouldn’t be a problem.
So why was he so eager to spend more time with her? Because she was a challenge? Because he’d always found her wildly attractive and there was unfinished business between them?
He had no time for relationships. His focus was getting Wright Inc on a more financially viable standing, relieving his father of the day-to-day stress, and shielding his mom and sister from the true state of their finances. That was his focus. Back in Dallas he’d worked hard and played hard, but he’d never been tempted to make any relationship permanent. His parents’ determination to marry him off to an acceptable girl before relinquishing control of the company was just an unnecessary complication. Women were off his agenda.
And yet he couldn’t ignore that hum in his blood.
He walked off, hoping like hell he knew what he was doing.
Chapter Four
“You did what?” Hannah sputtered, setting down her paper coffee cup.
Amber squinted at her best friend and continued attaching barcode stickers to a new batch of plumbing connecters. It was the morning after her meeting with the mayor, and Hannah had dropped by for a visit. “Between the mayor and Logan, I didn’t have much choice.”
“But you loathe Logan Wright,” Hannah protested. “I remember you saying he was a two-faced jackass. Those were your exact words.”
“Believe me, I’m not happy about this. I don’t want to spend the next few weeks in his company.”
Hannah sipped her coffee. “You know, I always thought back in high school you two had a kind of love-hate thing going on.”
Although Amber had been part of the Goth subculture in high school, her best friends had come from outside that group. Hannah and Nicole, refreshingly normal and stable, had saved her from her worst excesses, and she was glad they were still close friends. However, they didn’t know all the details of what had happened between her and Logan. They were only aware of some of the aftermath, and even that had taken a long time to come out. Now, Amber found herself reluctant to reveal old wounds to her best friend. The past belonged in the past; the future was what she had to concentrate on.
She answered flippantly, “Yeah, I love to hate him, if that’s what you mean.”
“Oh, Amber. Isn’t there anything I can do to help? Maybe Derek can do something.”
Amber shook her head. “No, I got this.” Hannah and Derek hadn’t been married for long. They had a young daughter and Derek’s ailing grandfather to take care of, plus Derek’s fu
rniture business and Hannah’s desire to return to college. She had no right to burden them with more worries.
The front door jingled, and a scrawny, sunburnt man shuffled in holding a box of tomatoes.
“Hi, Giovanni,” Amber greeted her customer.
“Morning to you both!” His wrinkled brown face split into a wide grin as he dumped his box on the store counter.
“What beautiful tomatoes,” Hannah exclaimed.
“A bumper crop this year.” Giovanni farmed a few acres outside Pine Falls and was a loyal customer at the hardware store. “A gift for Amber.”
“Why, thank you, Giovanni.” Amber knew what would come next, so she pre-empted him by adding, “But I can’t let you go empty handed. What can I give you in return?”
Grinning sheepishly, the man scratched his head. “Well, um, I could do with some of that stuff for sticking sheetrock together.”
“Joint compound? Sure. I’ll get you the four-gallon tub.”
She walked with Giovanni to the back of the store where she hefted a tub into his arms.
“Thank you, thank you. I got eggplants and potatoes coming up soon. I’ll leave a box of them on your doorstep next week.” He bobbed his head at Hannah before leaving, a satisfied grin on his face.
When they were alone, Hannah shook her head at Amber. “How many customers do you barter with instead of insisting on cash?”
“Only a few. Giovanni’s been coming to Bennett’s for decades, but he fell on hard times recently when he had an accident. I know he’ll start paying cash again when he can, but in the meantime I get some really lovely fruit and vegetables.” She pushed the box of ripe tomatoes toward Hannah. “Take as much as you want. I won’t be able to get through all that.”
Hannah’s face softened into a smile. “You like to act all tough, but I’ve always known you’re just a huge softie. Are you sure you’ll be okay spending time with Logan?”
“Shouldn’t you be asking whether he’ll be okay spending time with me?”
Hannah’s mouth fell open. “Are you planning to seduce him?”
It was Amber’s turn to splutter. “N-No! What gave you that idea?”
“You do have a way with men. Don’t try to deny it.”
It was true that she’d never had trouble attracting male attention, but she didn’t think she’d ever gone out of her way to seduce a man. That was a different kettle of fish entirely.
“I have zero plans to seduce Logan,” she answered with a vigor that came from her heart. The thought of putting herself out there, of making herself vulnerable to Logan, made her insides shrivel. She’d done that once before, had let herself believe there was something special between them, only to be rudely put in her place.
“That’s a pity,” Hannah said with a teasing wink. “If you had him wrapped around your little finger, you could get him to agree to anything, even letting go of his mega center.”
“I think you overestimate my powers of seduction.”
“Do I?” Hannah fluttered her eyelashes, pulling a goofy face.
“Stop it.” Suppressing a laugh, Amber shoved the box of tomatoes at her friend. “Now take some of these and get out of here.”
Giggling, Hannah filled her shopping bag with tomatoes and prepared to leave. “Let me know how it goes with you and Logan. I predict that by the end of the month he’ll either be madly in love with you or you’ll both be scratching each other’s eyes out.”
…
On Sunday Amber took advantage of a lull in business to pop into Peggy’s bakery. Her neighbor finished serving a customer and turned to her with a grin. “What can I get you? You look like you could do with a nice donut.”
Amber smiled, trying not to show her uneasiness. “Actually, I want to tell you something.”
“Oh? Well, have a donut anyway.” The wiry baker thrust a jam-filled, sweet-smelling ball of pastry at her.
“Thanks. The thing is I went to see the mayor on Friday, and—”
“He’s going to stop the mega center?” Peggy’s face lit up with hope.
“No, he can’t. It’s out of his hands, he says. It’s going in front of the planning committee in a month’s time. He said I’ll stand a better chance of stopping it if I demonstrate my community spirit.”
“Oh yeah? Sounds like the mayor wants to make you do something.”
“You know him too well. Yes, he wants me to help build a few playhouses for daycare centers.”
“Well, that’s just up your alley.”
“But he’s teamed me up with someone else, someone who’ll pay for all the supplies we need.” She paused, then plunged on, “He wants me to work with Logan Wright.”
Peggy scrunched up her brow, ropey arms folded. “You’re working with the enemy?”
“I don’t have any choice. If I refuse, it’ll make me look bad, especially when Logan builds the playhouses on his own.”
“Well, we can’t have that! Half the town already thinks the Wrights can do no wrong. We can’t have everyone thinking what a great guy he is.”
“So you understand?”
“Course I do. Sometimes we gotta do things we don’t like. But how will you manage? Who’ll look after your store while you’re building the playhouses?”
“Well, we’re starting our first one tomorrow, which is my day off.” Logan had called her yesterday with the address of the daycare center, and they’d arranged to start on Monday. “And Greg will cover for me on Tuesday and Wednesday.” Greg was her part-time store clerk who was on summer break from school and would appreciate any extra shifts he could get. It would cost her, but in the long run it would cost her even more if she didn’t get this mega center canned.
Peggy shook her head. “I don’t envy you. It’s gonna be a lot of work.”
“I’ll have to tell Eleni and Martin when I see them next week.” The yarn store and electrical repair store were both closed on Sundays.
“Don’t worry, I’ll let them know. You’ve got enough to fret about.” Using her tongs, Peggy grabbed a donut from the display cabinet. “Here, have another. I figure you’re gonna need all your strength.”
…
Logan paced about the grassy area, tape measure and phone in hand. The plot set aside for the playhouse was nice and flat, and large enough for a decent size mini-building.
He glanced down at the measurements he’d entered into his smartphone. “I know a good supplier. He’ll be able to get a kit out here by tomorrow morning, and then it shouldn’t take us more than a couple of days to set it up.”
Amber, who had been gazing up at the trees, swiveled around to stare at him. “Kits? You’re just going to order in a generic flat-pack and be done with it?” She shook her head. “That demonstrates a total lack of imagination.”
“It demonstrates a good grasp of efficiency,” he retorted. “We only have three weeks to build three playhouses in between our regular jobs. That’s not a lot of time.”
“So that’s an excuse to throw up something shoddy?”
“There’s nothing shoddy about these kits. My supplier is supposed to be one of the best.”
“Best at what? Delivering something bland and boring? A playhouse should stimulate a kid’s imagination. How’s that going to happen in one of your unoriginal little kits?”
“And what’s your alternative?” he demanded, his exasperation rising. He’d suspected working with Amber would be no picnic, but he hadn’t expected her to be this obstructionist so early. “Design and build each one from scratch? That will take far more time and also cost a helluva lot more money.”
He cast a guilty glance at the three- and four-year-olds watching them from the other side of the fence, hoping they hadn’t heard his slip of the tongue. Working with Amber was going to sorely test his ability not to swear.
A faint smile flickered across Amber’s face. “Maybe we should set up a swear jar for each of us and see who collects the least. We can donate the proceeds to charity.”
H
e nodded ruefully. “Sounds like a plan, although we’d have to come up with a list of forbidden words and penalties.”
“Yeah, but not right now.”
“Glad to see we agree on something. Now, about this playhouse—”
She groaned. “Surely we can do better than a soulless, seen-everywhere kit?” She canted her head at the toddlers nearby. “Don’t they deserve better?”
Was she really that concerned, or was this a ploy to distract him? Amber was smart, and she was not his ally; he had to remember that.
“You’re determined to object, are you?”
“It must be a novelty for you, working with someone who stands up to you.”
“Have you ever heard of compromise?”
“What’s that?” she shot back. “A two-bit town in Texas?”
Despite his annoyance, he suppressed a smile. “How about we do this first playhouse my way? You can take charge on the next one.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “And what happens with the third one?”
“Maybe by then we’ll have reached Compromise, East Texas, population: two.”
Her luscious lips quirked. “Okay, I admit you have a sense of humor.”
A tingling sensation danced through his stomach. For a moment he didn’t recognize it, and then he realized it was lust—pure, hot, animal lust for this complicated, frustrating woman. He found himself leaning toward her, wanting to inhale her subtle fragrance. In tight, frayed jeans, Timberland boots, and a black Nirvana T-shirt, she was strong, sexy, and fascinating.
Her eyes widened, as if she sensed his intent, and they both stilled. The sun blazed down on them, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of grass and flowers, the air soft and summery. Did she feel it, too, this heightened awareness? He was conscious of every detail about her—the wisps of hair clinging to her temples, the flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat, the warmth of her breath. He felt an overwhelming urge to touch her, his skin itching to contact hers. He lifted a hand, determined to cup her cheek.
Then, from behind the fence, a child began to cry, a teacher rushed forward, and the moment burst like a bubble. Amber stepped back, looking flustered, her eyelashes sweeping down in an effort to hide her expression. But he had seen it, that fascination burning in her sherry-colored eyes. The attraction he felt was definitely not one-sided.