by Tracy March
Despite the lure of the Nationals game on his huge flat-screen TV, he needed some fresh air. He practically lived outdoors on the island, with tropical breezes drifting through his open-air homes. The spring-in-Maryland atmosphere was totally different, but a walk in the gardens might ease his apprehension. He headed out the back of the house, across the terrace and onto the winding slate walkway that led to the gardens. Frogs croaked down by the pond, thrilled by the rain that had passed through earlier in the evening. Soon, the scent of boxwoods filled the air. Dim ground lights illuminated his path like Hansel-and-Gretel bread crumbs. Stars winked in the clear sky and a crescent moon glowed, hazy bright and yellow.
Trent pulled in a deep breath of the crisp night air and kept walking, as familiar with the undulating layout of this property as he was with all four Hawthorne Resorts. He passed the rolling hill lined with a sprawling array of azaleas that would soon be blooming like an impressionist masterpiece. Up around the curve a ways, a small cottage came into view in the near distance.
Cyn’s place.
Lights were on inside, and a slim silhouette moved behind the shades drawn low over the open front windows. His pulse skipped ahead at the thought of seeing her again. She was going to be key to the success of his venture, and he wanted to make sure she was ready for the trip to the Bahamas tomorrow.
Blossoming daffodils bordered the cottage’s covered front porch where low-watt lights cast a welcoming glow on a whitewashed rocking chair with a bright green polka-dot cushion. Next to the chair was a small table, a pot of purple pansies on top. As bright and cheery as it looked, he knew the lonesome feeling of having one chair on the balcony, watching the lazy Caribbean Sea all alone, wishing someone special was there to share the view. He had three real chances to find that someone. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.
Trent stepped up onto the porch, brushed his hand over his hair, and rang the old-fashioned round-button doorbell. He was so used to the huge chiming production in the manor house that the traditional ding-dong sounded strange to him. But the simplicity of it put him at ease—until Cyn opened the door and his heart leaped into his throat. Other parts of his body threatened to jump to attention, too, as she stood there barefoot in painted-on, worn-out blue jeans and a snug-fitting T-shirt highlighting the curves that her business casual clothes had only hinted at the other day. Her hair was swept up in a messy ponytail, stray wisps framing her face and skimming the curve of her neck. Her gaze met his and those amazing blue eyes held him speechless a second.
She gave him a crooked little whatcha-doing-here smile. “Hey there,” she said.
Man, he acted like he’d never seen a gorgeous girl before. Truth was, he’d seen plenty. Dated them, too. But something about Cyn had him feeling disarmed and a little self-conscious. Maybe because she seemed to really get how much this search for a wife meant to him, and he wasn’t used to having someone relate to him like that. He shrugged and gave her a playful look. “I happened to be in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d stop by.”
Her smile widened. “Sweet.” She opened the door wider, and gestured for him to come in. “You’re the first happened-to-be-in-the-neighborhood visitor I’ve ever had.”
Considering the huge iron gates and the brick wall and fences surrounding the property, Trent wasn’t surprised. He stepped inside and caught the scent he remembered from when they’d been together on the swing. Citrus and spice…and mischief. He was dead certain this girl could get into some mischief, and he’d do best not to think too long on that. Despite the cool night air, heat danced over his skin. Cyn was totally tempting, but Trent reminded himself to stay within the boundaries. Employees were off-limits. Cyn didn’t seem the litigious type, but Hawthorne Resorts didn’t need to contend with another lawsuit.
The small cottage had been totally transformed since he’d seen it last. She’d made a cozy country chic home out of what had once been considered a tear-down. Gran had contracted out the basics—new roof, windows, and plumbing—but Cyn had made it into something remarkable.
“Wow.” From his vantage point, he could see nearly every room in the tiny cottage. “You took this place from shack to chic, for sure.” Lamplight cast a warm glow on the walls and up into the exposed-beam ceiling. A vintage desk and chair mixed perfectly with a slipcovered sofa. Bright colors popped in the throw pillows, and on the curtains that shifted ever so slightly as the evening air sneaked in through the open windows. Sunny yellow. Sky blue. New-grass green.
“You like it?” She seemed pleased to think he might.
He nodded. “You turned it into a home.” And she had no idea how much that appealed to him. He lived in some pretty cozy digs, but rarely got such a warm feeling when he walked inside. If only they could replicate that feeling in all the accommodations at the resorts.
A flat-screen TV about half the size of the one in his suite sat atop an antique barn wood sideboard that Gran might even approve of. The Nats game was on, volume low, and they were up one-nothing. “I would’ve never bet you’d be watching baseball.”
“No?” Cyn crossed the room in front of him, treating him to a better view than he had from any of his oceanfront houses. He pressed his lips together tightly as his inner caveman whistled. Facing him with a challenging grin, she crossed her arms and asked, “What would you have put your money on?”
That million-dollar view you just gave me.
“I’d have gone all in on The Real Housewives of Wherever They’re From This Time.” He played it straight-faced.
She tipped her head forward, eyebrows low, her mouth falling open. “For real? Because you’d have gone plain bankrupt with that bet. Maybe we’d better have a talk about intuition before you meet Ava on Saturday.”
“Right,” he said teasingly.
“I’ve always been a baseball fan.” She set a so-there gaze on him just as Nationals first baseman Cole Collins’s country walk-up music played in the background on the TV, and Cole strode up to the plate, bat in hand. “Besides, Cole and Liza have taught me a lot about the game. Cole even said that if the right guy comes along—like a new single teammate or someone—he’s going to introduce us.”
“That’d be cool,” Trent said, working to keep the twinge of envy out of his voice. Cole was as down-to-earth as he was talented. All-Star everything. And from what Trent could tell, no woman could resist him.
“If it worked out like it has for Liza and Cole, then it would be way beyond cool,” she replied.
They silently watched Cole take a ball and tip a pitch foul before he got the one he was waiting for. A mighty swing and a pop sent the ball sailing into the outfield bullpen.
“Yay!” Cyn bounced on her feet and clapped.
Trent shook his head. “That guy’s a freak of nature.”
“For sure.” She gave him a dreamy, isn’t-that-awesome look. “And we could definitely use some more freaks.”
The next batter popped out—inning over—and a commercial for car insurance came on.
“You excited?” Cyn asked. But before he could answer, she held up her hand, palm out, and said, “Wait. Don’t tell me. You’re so excited that you were going stir-crazy up in your manor man-suite and you had to go out for a walk.”
He nodded, wondering how she knew. Not that it would be that hard to figure out, but still. It was as if she had some kind of listening device in his mind. “My manor man-suite?”
A sliver of a grin. “Just popped into my mind. Not that I have any idea what your place is like up there. I’ve never been past the first floor.”
For some reason, this struck him as odd even though she probably wouldn’t have had a reason to go to the upper floors of the house. “You didn’t get a tour?”
This time she laughed. “A tour? I’d love to have seen the look on your grandmother’s face if I’d asked for a tour. Take my word for it. The rest of the staff and I know we have no business upstairs. We stick to the main floor.”
Trent winced. “I guess I see t
hings kinda differently than that.” He met her gaze. “Gran’s just from another era. She has a different mind-set. I get that we have to make sure everyone knows their roles, but I don’t think people have a ‘place.’ I’m careful that the employees at the resorts know my expectations, but I respect them all no matter what job they have.” He glanced at the television when the game came back on, but he quickly focused on Cyn again. Her expression had turned serious and maybe a little skeptical.
“It could’ve been me who ended up working as a handyman or a landscaper,” he said. “That’s honest work that takes special skills, too. When it comes down to it, we’re all just people. I hope they’re all happy working for the company, and that we’ll be successful together.”
Cyn shifted her gaze away from him and pressed her teeth into her bottom lip as if she was trying to keep herself from saying something she shouldn’t.
“What?” he asked.
After what seemed like a long time, she finally said, “But during your Q&A the other day, you said that you and your grandmother were a lot alike.”
“I did. Just before you left.”
“Sorry about that. I should’ve mentioned that I had an appointment with the tent rental company.” She shifted her gaze from the game to him. “With all due respect to you and your grandmother, your claim that you’re a lot alike concerns me a little—especially since it’s my job to help convince three girls that you’re an awesome catch.” She shrugged one shoulder. “What do I know? Maybe they’re actually looking for someone who sees things the way she does.” Cyn sat on the arm of the couch, looking worried that she might’ve said too much. She stared at the television but didn’t seem to really be watching it.
Trent stepped closer to Cyn, between her and the television, and held her gaze. “What I meant was that Gran and I are shrewd and determined, business-minded and ballsy. But we don’t necessarily see the world the same way when it comes to other things.”
She nodded once. “Good to know.”
Her half smile told him that she wasn’t convinced, but he’d done what he could for the moment. Showing her would go a lot further than telling her, and he figured there’d be time for that.
“I like to think of us as a team,” he said, reminding himself what their mission really was. “The more we understand each other, the better things will go. So if there’s anything else you’re not clear on, feel free to ask.”
She nodded. “Same here.”
“Okay, then,” he said. “Got an extra blanket?”
Her face brightened at his out-of-nowhere question, and she narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t get kicked out, did you? Because this couch is definitely too small for you to sleep on.”
He smiled. “As far as I know, I’m still welcome in my manor man-suite. But I’m figuring since you’ve never been upstairs in the house, there’s something outside you might never have seen and I figured I’d show you.”
She bunched her lips, eyebrows low. “And it requires a blanket?”
“Yep. And a flashlight.”
The mischief had returned to her eyes. “How can I say no to a mystery like that?”
His heart caught on a beat. “I’m hoping you can’t.”
…
Cyn liked the idea of getting a behind-the-scenes look at something she’d never seen on the grounds. She’d lived here nearly two years but, as she’d told Trent, she was careful not to overstep by straying into places she wasn’t allowed. The last thing she wanted to do was give the Queen a reason to question the trust that had grown between them.
She grabbed a fluffy butter-yellow blanket from the top of the tiny linen closet and handed it to Trent. He followed her into the kitchen, where she opened the cabinet under the sink and grabbed her flashlight.
“We might not need a flashlight after all,” Trent said just as Cyn closed the squeaky-hinged cabinet. “This blanket glows in the dark, right?”
“Hmm… Let’s see.” She reached over, hit the overhead light switch, and they stood in near darkness. After a few seconds, she clicked the flashlight on and shone it in his face. “Doesn’t look like it.”
Trent squeezed his eyes closed, but his face still looked handsome, even with bright light and deep shadows on it. He reached out, clasped his hand over hers on the flashlight, and turned it away from his face, pulling her closer. The light beam danced across the ceiling as her gaze met his, the soft blanket pressed between them.
Cyn’s stomach fluttered. These were the type of moments that Gordon and Jamie would love to capture with the camera, but not between her and Trent. Between Trent and Ava, and the two other girls he’d be meeting.
Trent held her gaze and slowly tipped his head toward hers. “You ready?”
Tingles swirled up Cyn’s spine. Before she could stop herself, she licked her lips—a nervous habit whose timing couldn’t be worse. Trent’s gaze shifted to her mouth, and she could swear he was going to kiss her. Her heart thrummed and she swallowed hard, imagining the softness of his super-sexy lips on hers, the sandpapery scrape of his scruffy whiskers. She breathed in the faint spicy scent of his cologne and was nearly a goner. What sane girl wouldn’t go for it? But she knew better than anyone how bad decisions could come back to haunt her later, and nothing good could come from her and Trent Hawthorne kissing.
She pulled back and flipped the kitchen light on. “Looks like we’re good to go.” She blinked as her eyes adjusted, and she avoided his gaze. “Flashlight. No-glow blanket. Everything you asked for.”
“Perfect.” His easy grin led her to think he was unaffected by whatever had just happened between them, making Cyn wonder again if she’d imagined it all. He’d only been team-building, and she’d gone off into a fairy-tale land where girls dreamed of sexy kisses with hot, rich guys who were actually their bosses.
Yikes.
“You might want to grab a sweatshirt or something,” Trent said. “Temperature’s dropped some.”
Cyn ducked into her bedroom, pulled her favorite hoodie from the closet, and slipped it on. Thankfully Trent hadn’t followed her in there. Who knew what she’d start imagining with him in her bedroom, considering how stirred up she’d gotten in the kitchen.
She headed into the living area where Trent stood in front of the television, watching the top of the ninth inning of the Nats game. “Tied now,” he said.
“That’s why they call them the Heart Attack Nats.”
“All the worry’s at the end,” Trent said. “And lots of the fun.”
Cyn picked up the remote, clicked off the TV, and gave him a challenging grin. “Since we’re gonna miss it, this better be good.”
Chapter Six
Trent carried the blanket and had the flashlight tucked in his back pocket as he and Cyn made their way back toward the garden along the slate path. He tried not to think about how close he’d come to kissing her back there in the cottage, despite his warnings to himself. As crazy as it seemed, he was glad he hadn’t done it. She’d innocently turned out the lights to make a joke—then licked her lips. Man, that had tested him. Cyn was sexy, sassy, and difficult to resist. But kissing her would’ve been a perfect way to jack up his entire plan to find a wife. Day after tomorrow, he’d be meeting Ava Brennan.
“You all packed?” he asked Cyn as they rounded into the grove of live oaks whose branches formed a canopy over the path, the shadows of their craggy trunks giving the place a haunted-forest feel.
“I think so. You never know until you get there, though, right?”
“I never thought about it that way.”
“Because you’ve got everything you need wherever you go.”
“Not everything,” Trent said, certain she’d get his implication.
“You will soon enough. T-minus two days and counting before you meet Ava. And then there’s—”
His ears perked up thinking she might spill the names of the other two girls. He really wanted to hear them, but then again, he needed to stay focused on one at a tim
e. That way he’d give each of them a fair chance. Hopefully he’d fall for one of them, and she would choose him, too.
“I almost slipped and told you,” Cyn said. “I nearly broke my own rule.”
Trent nudged her shoulder. “We can’t have any rule-breaking going on.” But Cyn had a way of making him think too much about rule-breaking.
The shadow of the massive boxwood maze came into view and Trent led Cyn toward it. “Are we going in the maze?” she asked. “In the dark?” She narrowed her gaze at him and he couldn’t tell if she was thrilled or terrified.
“We have a flashlight.” He gave her a smart-ass smile. “But our glow-in-the-dark blanket isn’t cooperating.”
She shook her head and Trent could tell she was struggling not to grin.
“Yep,” he said. “We’re going in.”
Cyn lowered her eyebrows. “But I’ve been in there before.”
“At night?”
She gazed at him skeptically. “No.”
“And we need to go to the middle of the maze to see what I’ve got to show you.”
She narrowed her eyes and scrunched her nose a little. “Okay.”
He hated the hint of disappointment in her voice, but he didn’t want to ruin the surprise. “Are you afraid to go in there in the dark, or are you disappointed we’re going someplace you’ve already been?”
“You think I could live out here all by myself if I was afraid of the dark? I mean, take away the moonlight and this place can get downright creepy. Sometimes it’s creepy even with the moonlight.” She turned and waved her hand toward the path they had taken. “Like in that live oak grove.”
“I wouldn’t go in there by myself when I was a kid. Even in the daytime.”
“Aw. I can’t imagine you being scared of anything,” Cyn said as they stopped at the entrance to the boxwood maze. “You seem so in control and sure of yourself.”
“Most of the time I am,” he admitted, “with work, and dealing with Gran. But I’m a little concerned about how things are going to go with the girls Gran has picked. And I’m even more worried about making a marketing campaign out of all of it.” He scrubbed his hand across his forehead. “I mean, all my business sense tells me it’s a bad idea while everyone else seems to think it’s genius.”