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The Widow's Bachelor Bargain
Teresa Southwick
THE MOST ELIGIBLE BACHELOR…UNDER HER ROOFThe tabloids were right: Sloan Holden is rich, powerful and incredibly handsome. But he’s just another paying guest, as far as B&B owner Maggie Potter is concerned. The hardworking widow has a toddler to care for, a business to build, and a heart to protect. She can’t succumb to the charm of a man who was just passing through.Though drawn to his gorgeous landlady, Sloan knows “off limits” when he sees it. Trouble is, Maggie and her little girl gave Sloan a taste of what he was missing; a family of his own. The bachelor businessman could strike a deal with anyone, but could he find a way to bargain his way into Maggie’s life for good?


“Maybe I can help.” Sloan motioned to her daughter.
“She doesn’t go to strangers,” Maggie said.
“It’s worth a try.” He held out his arms. “Hey, Shorty, what’s up?”
The little girl silently stared at him, probably didn’t know what to make of a man in the kitchen. Maggie braced for an ear-splitting protest, but after a moment’s hesitation, Danielle went to him and settled her chubby little arm around his neck.
Maggie’s heart melted at the sight of the big man carrying her little girl.
Gorgeous, charming and good with kids. Sloan Holden was a triple threat. But he must have a flaw.
Every man did.
* * *
The Bachelors of Blackwater Lake: They won’t be single for long!
The Widow’s Bachelor Bargain
Teresa Southwick

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
TERESA SOUTHWICK lives with her husband in Las Vegas, the city that reinvents itself every day. An avid fan of romance novels, she is delighted to be living out her dream of writing for Mills & Boon.
To the men and women of the United States Armed Forces and their families. Your sacrifices have ensured our freedom, and I am forever in your debt.
Contents
Cover (#u0af7443a-502a-5dbd-99d7-8b67517bd73b)
Introduction (#u9bcd62ff-564b-5105-a536-732f8da9b7b5)
Title Page (#u4947b99b-1663-53e9-84c4-384166dbcdce)
About the Author (#u13a72e8a-eb51-5e72-b239-732b34999e66)
Dedication (#u86dc8ce1-7c51-59eb-ab9d-cbb4a6e07ce2)
Chapter One (#u4940d51d-1fb0-5e4d-9587-6accdc77f98c)
Chapter Two (#u51742823-1c28-526b-8890-d36c05d0d2cb)
Chapter Three (#ud17946ae-e5bc-5436-819d-68c3faecccee)
Chapter Four (#u73b344d4-5811-5225-9d91-e333f2158985)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_5f48a89c-e8c3-55da-8244-bff053d027cc)
“You must be Mr. Holden. And—happily—you’re not a serial killer.”
Sloan Holden expected beautiful women to come on to him, but as pickup lines went, that one needed tweaking. He stared at the woman, who’d just opened the door to him. “Okay. And you know this how?”
“I had you investigated.” Standing in the doorway of her log cabin home turned bed-and-breakfast, Maggie Potter held up her hand in a time-out gesture. “Wait. I’m a little new at this hospitality thing. Delete what I just said and insert welcome to Potter House. Please come in.”
“Thanks.” He walked past her and heard the door close. Turning, he asked, “So, FBI? CIA? DEA? NSA? Or Homeland Security?”
“Excuse me?”
“Which alphabet-soup agency did you get to check me out?”
“Actually, it was Hank Fletcher, the sheriff here in Blackwater Lake. I apologize for blurting that out. Guess I’m a little nervous. The thing is, I live here with my two-year-old daughter and another, older, woman who rents a room. It’s my responsibility to check out anyone who will be living here.”
Sloan studied the woman—Maggie Potter—dressed in jeans and a T-shirt covered by a pink-and-gray-plaid flannel shirt. Her shiny dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her big brown eyes snapped with intelligence and self-deprecating humor. She was pretty in a wholesome, down-to-earth way, and for some reason that surprised him. He’d assumed the widow renting out a room would be frumpy, silver haired and old enough to be his grandmother. It was possible when his secretary had said widow, he’d mentally inserted all the stereotypes.
“Still,” he said, sliding his hands into his jeans’ pockets, “a serial killer by definition gets away with murder and is clever enough to hide it. Maybe I’m hiding something.”
“Everyone does. That just makes you human.” The wisdom in that statement seemed profound for someone so young. “But you, Mr. Sloan Holden, can’t even spit on the sidewalk without someone taking a picture. I doubt you could ditch photographers long enough to pull off a homicide, let alone hide the incriminating evidence.”
“You’re right about that.”
“Even so, Hank assured me you are who you say you are and an upstanding businessman who won’t stiff me for the rent. Again I say welcome.” She smiled, and the effect was stunning. “I’ll do everything possible to make your stay here as pleasant as possible, Mr. Holden.”
“Please call me Sloan.”
“Of course.” When she turned away, he got a pretty good look at her work-of-art backside and shapely legs. They weren’t as long as he usually liked, but that didn’t stop all kinds of ideas on how to make his stay pleasant from popping into his mind. That was proof, as if he needed more, that he was going to hell. After all, she was a mother.
“I just need you to sign the standard guest agreement.” She walked over to the desk in the far corner of the great room.
Sloan followed and managed to tear his gaze away from her butt long enough to get a look at her home. A multicolored braided rug was the centerpiece for a conversation area facing the fireplace. It consisted of a brown leather sofa and a fabric-covered chair and ottoman. On the table beside it was a brass lamp and a photo of Maggie snuggled up to a smiling man. Must be the husband she’d lost.
Maggie handed over a piece of paper and he glanced through it, the normal contract regarding payment responsibilities, what was provided, dos and don’ts. He took the pen she handed him and signed his name where indicated.
“Do you need a credit card and ID?” That was standard procedure for a hotel.
“I recognize you from the magazines you seem to be in on a weekly basis. And I got all the pertinent financial information from your secretary. Elizabeth says you’ll be staying in town for a while to work on the resort project.”
“That’s right.”
“I know you’re here at Potter House because Blackwater Lake Lodge had a major flood when a pipe burst and is now undergoing repairs and renovations. Elizabeth told me you do a lot of work outside the office and wouldn’t be happy with all the pounding, hammering and drilling.”
“She knows me well.”
“I got that impression. And she said you’re not a heartless jerk like most tabloid stories make you out to be.”
“Did I mention she’s loyal?”
He folded his arms over his chest and studied her. Elizabeth was the best assistant he’d ever had and an impeccable judge of character, even on the phone. She wasn’t in the habit of sharing details about him. Not that she’d given away secrets to a competitor, but still... While taking care of his living arrangements for this stay in Blackwater Lake, Montana, she must have phone-bonded with Maggie Potter, meaning that she trusted this woman.
In any event, he didn’t have a lot of choice about where to hang his hat. The lack of accommodations in this area, along with a beautiful lake and spectacular mountains, were the very reasons this resort project he and his cousin Burke had undertaken would be a phenomenal financial success. It was their luck that no one else had noticed the amazing potential of this area before now.
“It sounds as if you got to know my assistant pretty well,” he finally said.
“Lovely woman. She invited me to her wedding.”
“Wow. You really did make a good phone impression. I didn’t even get an invitation,” he teased.
“She’s probably concerned that the kind of photographers who follow you around aren’t the ones she wants documenting the most important day of her life.”
Sloan knew she was joking, but that wasn’t far from the truth. Because he had money, his every move seemed to generate a ridiculous amount of public interest—make that female interest. That would give a guy trust issues even if he hadn’t been burned, but Sloan was a wealthy divorced bachelor and deliberately never stayed with the same woman for more than a couple of months.
A man in his position had social obligations and often needed a plus one. On the surface it looked like dating, but he knew it was never going anywhere. So the more women he went out with, the more interest his personal life generated. But he was ultimately an entrepreneur who knew getting his name in the paper was a positive. Even bad publicity could be good.
And interest continued to escalate about whether or not any woman could catch the most eligible bachelor who had said in more than one interview that he would never get married again. That it just wasn’t for him. The remark, intended to snuff out attention, had really backfired on him and created the ultimate challenge for single women looking for a rich husband. He was like the love lottery.
“My assistant knows I’d never let anything spoil her special day.”
“Because you respect the sanctity of marriage so much?” It sounded as if there was the barest hint of sarcasm in her question.
He didn’t doubt that she knew the tabloid version of his disastrous foray into matrimony. It was well documented and also ancient history. “I do for other people,” he answered sincerely.
“Just not for yourself.”
“It’s always good to know your own limitations.”
“Seems smart. And wise,” she agreed. “So how long will you be here?”
“Indefinitely.” That was certainly an indefinite answer. “I handle the construction arm of the company, so it will probably be quite a while. And Blackwater Lake Lodge is undergoing renovations.”
“True.”
He glanced around and found he liked the idea of not living in a hotel for what would probably be months. “You have a nice place here.”
“Thanks. My husband built it.” There was fierce pride in her voice even as a shadow slid into her eyes. “It wasn’t planned as a bed-and-breakfast. We opened a business in town.”
“Oh?”
“Potter’s Ice Cream Parlor on Main Street.”
He nodded. “I saw it on my way here.”
“Danny, my husband—” she glanced at the picture and a softness slipped into her eyes “—thought everything through. Downstairs is the master bedroom with another room for a nursery. But he figured as the kids got older, into their teens, they’d need their privacy—bedrooms and separate baths. And a game room to hang out in. There’s even an outside entrance for the upstairs. I’m not quite sure how he planned to deal with that when they were teenagers.” She shrugged and the light dimmed in her dark eyes. “It didn’t work out as he planned, but it works for my needs now.”
He wouldn’t have asked if she hadn’t brought it up. And he probably shouldn’t have asked anyway, but the question came out before he could stop it. “What are your needs?”
A slight narrowing of her eyes told him she didn’t miss the double entendre, though he hadn’t meant it that way. She answered the question directly. “I decided to expand the ice cream parlor to include a café, a little more healthy and upscale than a coffee shop. Even though I took on a partner, we needed an infusion of capital. The simple answer is that I need the money to pay back the business loan.”
“I see.”
“Josie, my other boarder, has been here for a few months. I’ve known her for a long time and this arrangement works for her. She’s a widow and doesn’t want the responsibility of a big house. When she wants to travel, she can go without worrying about the house she left behind. For the other room, you’re my first. Tenant, I mean.” A becoming flush crept into her cheeks. “Someone from your company who knows my brother contacted him about your housing dilemma and he put them in touch with me.”
“And still you investigated me.” One corner of his mouth curved up.
“It never hurts to be cautious.”
Sloan couldn’t argue with her about that. “So who is your brother?”
“Brady O’Keefe.”
“Hmm.”
She frowned. “Do you know him?”
“Not personally. But I know the name. He did some computer and website work for my company.”
Sloan also knew the guy was pretty well off. The way Maggie had emphasized the word need when talking about money, he was pretty certain her brother hadn’t been involved in raising the capital to expand her business.
“You look puzzled about something, Sloan.”
“I am. But it’s none of my business.”
“Probably not.” She shrugged. “Ask anyway.”
He nodded. “I know your brother by reputation and he has a few bucks. Yet you didn’t get the expansion loan from him.”
One of her eyebrows rose. “How do you know that?”
“Because you said you need money to pay back the loan. I don’t think your brother would pressure you or put you and his niece out on the street if you fell behind on payments.”
“No.” She smiled. “But I wanted to do this on my own. My way.”
“And what way is that?” Not the easy way, Sloan thought.
She glanced at the photograph, then back at him. “When Danny and I opened the ice cream parlor, Brady wanted to help us, but my husband refused. He appreciated the offer, but it was important to him to do it on his own. A respect thing. Some might call it macho male pride.”
“I see.”
“He said it was human nature for people to not appreciate things they didn’t have to work hard for. So we poured our heart, soul, blood, sweat and tears into the project. Our phase one. The plan was always to expand and open the café, but there was a setback when he was killed in Afghanistan.”
“I’m sorry.” Stupid words. So automatic and useless. Why wasn’t there something to say that would actually help?
“Thank you.” She slid her fingers into her jeans’ pockets. “Danny’s gone, so I’m carrying on the dream. The way he would have wanted—without my brother’s help.”
“With three sisters, I can say with certainty that my instinct would be to write a check if they needed it. Brady probably feels that way, too. So how’s he taking this loan thing?”
“You’d think I gave his computer a particularly nasty virus.” She grinned. “Still, I think he’s secretly proud of me.”
Sloan didn’t doubt that. What brother wouldn’t be proud of a sister like her? It would have been easy to let herself be taken care of after losing her husband, but she hadn’t. She was raising their child and running an expanded business plus taking in boarders. Doing things her way. And it was a good way.
She glanced at his empty hands. “I assume you have luggage. I’ll show you to your room, then bring your things up.”
“Thanks, but I’ll get everything.” His way wasn’t to let a woman carry his stuff, especially when that woman looked as if the first stiff breeze would blow her away. He admired her independence, but he did things his way, too. “There’s a lot and some of it is heavy.”
“Okay. Follow me.”
Now, that he didn’t mind doing, because she had an exceptionally fine backside. Aside from her obvious external attributes, there was a lot to like about his new landlady. Smart, straightforward, self-reliant. Salt of the earth. He would bet his last dime that she wasn’t a gold digger.
He almost wished she was.
* * *
The next morning Maggie settled her crabby daughter in the high chair beside the round oak kitchen table. After giving the little girl a piece of banana, she whipped up a batch of biscuits and popped them in the oven. When the idea had taken hold to rent out the upstairs rooms, she’d come up with a different breakfast menu for each day of the week. Today was scrambled eggs with spinach, mushrooms, onion and tomato. Fried potatoes. Country gravy for the biscuits. And blueberries. This was one of Josie’s favorites and made one wonder how the older woman stayed so trim. Could have something to do with her being tall and the brisk walk she took every morning after rolling out of bed.
Maggie hadn’t seen Sloan yet this morning and was just the tiniest bit curious about what his favorite breakfast was and how he stayed in such good shape. The snug T-shirt he’d had on when checking in yesterday had left little to the imagination, and the man had a serious six-pack going on. Ever since she’d opened the door, her nerves had been tingling, some kind of spidey sense. It was like the princess-and-the-pea story she read to Danielle. Even when he wasn’t near, she knew he was under her roof.
He wasn’t model handsome, but there was something compelling in his eyes, which were light brown with flecks of green and gold.
“Mama—” The single word was followed by the sound of a splat.
Maggie looked up from stirring the country gravy and saw that Danielle had thrown her banana on the floor. Very little had been ingested, but the little girl had mangled the fruit pretty well.
“Want some Cheerios, sweetie?”
“Cookie—”
Some words came out of this child’s mouth as mangled as that banana, but cookie wasn’t one of them. It was tempting to give in and let her have a treat. Just this once keep her happy so the first breakfast with their VIP guest would go smoothly and convince him she knew what she was doing in the B and B business. But her maternal instincts told her that was a bad habit to start.
“Good morning.” Josie walked into the kitchen freshly showered after her exercise. She was in her early sixties but looked at least ten years younger, in spite of her silver hair. The pixie cut suited her. She moved beside the high chair. “How are you, munchkin?”
The little girl babbled unintelligible sounds, which were no doubt a list of grievances about her mother being the food police.
“She’s not her sunny little self today,” Maggie apologized. “She was restless last night. Teething, I think. I hope she didn’t disturb you.”
“Not a bit. The insulation in these walls is amazing.” She looked around, blue eyes brimming with understanding. “How can I help?”
“Go relax with a cup of coffee. You’re a guest.”
“Oh, please. We both know I’m your friend more than a paying customer. Besides the discount I get for emergency babysitting, it’s a blessing to still be useful when you’re as old as I am.” She put a hand on her hip. “Now, what can I do?”
“You’re doing it. Being a godsend.” Maggie turned on the gas burner underneath the stainless-steel frying pan filled with potatoes. “If you could give Danielle a handful of that cereal, I’d be forever in your debt.”
“Done.” She grabbed the box from the pantry and did as requested. “Now I can get the eggs ready to scramble.”
“Maybe I should change things up.” Maggie grinned. “You know the menu by heart.”
“How many eggs are you thinking with Sloan here? A man like that could be a big eater.”
“So you met him?”
“Last night. We watched TV together in the upstairs game room. Some house-flipping program.” The older woman opened the refrigerator and removed the containers of veggies that had been cut up the night before.
Maggie hadn’t cooked breakfast for a man since the morning she’d said goodbye to her husband, before he deployed to Afghanistan. It wasn’t the first time she’d made sure he ate before leaving the house but she’d never considered it would be her last meal with him. She’d never been able to decide whether or not she would have made the food more special if she’d known. Or if the not knowing had made the ordinary a final blessing.
“I think eight should be enough,” Maggie said.
She couldn’t remember how many Danny would have eaten and felt guilty about that. Every time she realized the recollections were getting fuzzier, she felt disloyal to his memory.
“With all the rest of the food,” she continued, “it should be more than enough. If there are leftovers, I’ll put some on a tortilla later and call it lunch.”
“Okay.” Josie started cracking eggs into a bowl. “He sure is a good-looking man.”
“Who’s that?”
“Your new boarder. Sloan. Unless there’s another man you’re hiding under the bed.”
Just the sound of his name made Maggie’s heart skip a beat. “I suppose he wouldn’t have to wear a bag over his head in public.”
“Not to be insensitive, Maggie. After all, I’m a widow, too. Also not blind. Take it from me, a man who looks like he does would have an almost nun thinking twice about taking final vows. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice.”
“Of course I did.” And even if she were blind, there would be no way not to notice the gravelly sex appeal lingering in his deep voice. “But you watched TV with him. What was that like?”
“He’s not just a pretty face. I can tell you that. Seems to know his stuff and, quite frankly, he took a lot of the joy and mystery out of what those TV construction guys do.”
“So it was like watching a medical show with a doctor who tells you how they’re doing CPR all wrong?”
“Exactly.” Josie grinned. “Still, he seems like a nice man. I wouldn’t believe all that stuff about him in the tabloids.”
“I sort of liked that story about him owning houses all over the world and swimming naked with the model.”
“It does give one an image,” Josie admitted.
“Did you ask him? Hanging out watching a house-flipping show seems like the perfect time to find out what inquiring minds want to know.”
“It didn’t occur to me, what with him talking about all the ways those TV guys could have reduced waste, pollution and environmental degradation.”
A piercing wail from the high chair interrupted the fascinating conversation. What Josie had just said made Maggie even more curious than she’d already been, but now wasn’t the time to pursue it. Danielle needed attention.
“Are you thirsty, baby girl?” She grabbed a sippy cup from the cupboard and filled it with milk. She handed it to her daughter, who eagerly stuck the spout in her mouth and drank. “So he’s a green builder?”
“Who?” There was a twinkle in Josie’s blue eyes as she stirred up eggs, veggies and seasoning in a bowl.
“Sloan. Unless there’s a man you’re hiding under the bed, Miss—”
“Good morning.”
That gravelly, deep, sexy voice belonged to the man they’d just been talking about. Maggie exchanged a guilty glance with Josie but couldn’t manage to come up with anything to say to him.
The sippy cup hit the wooden floor, interrupting the awkward silence. Maggie quickly stirred the potatoes before hurrying to her daughter, who was starting to squirm against the belt holding her in. Along with the high-pitched whining, it was clear the little girl wanted out. Maggie undid the strap and lifted the child from the high chair then tried to put her down. Danielle was having none of that and the screech kicked up a notch.
Please, not today, little one, Maggie silently begged. The man was accustomed to five-star hotels, and a two-year-old’s temper tantrum wasn’t the optimal way to put their best foot forward.
“Mommy has to finish cooking breakfast,” she whispered. But Danielle shook her head and clung for all she was worth.
“I’ll take her.” Josie walked over with her arms outstretched, but the little girl buried her face against Maggie’s shoulder.
She looked at Sloan. “I’m really sorry about this. I’ll get her settled down and food will be on the table in no time.”
“There’s no rush. Although I’d love some coffee.”
“It’s made. I’ll just put some in a carafe and you can have it in the dining room. Cups and saucers are already out—”
“A mug is fine.” He walked over to the coffeemaker and grabbed one of the mugs hanging from an under-the-cupboard hook. After pouring the steaming dark liquid, he blew on it, then took a sip. “Good.”
Danielle had lifted her head at the sound of the deep voice and was intently studying the stranger. Her uncle Brady visited regularly, but other than him, a man in this house was a rare occurrence.
Maggie tried to put the little girl down again and got another strong, squealing protest. “Well, it’s not the first time I’ve cooked with this little girl on my hip, and it probably won’t be the last.”
“Maybe I can help.” Sloan set his mug on the granite island beside them and held out his arms.
“She doesn’t go to strangers,” Maggie said.
“It’s worth a try.” He held out his arms. “Hey, Shorty, what’s up?”
The little girl silently stared at him, probably didn’t know what to make of a man in the kitchen. Maggie braced for an earsplitting protest, but after a moment’s hesitation, Danielle went to him and settled her chubby little arm around his neck. Then she touched the collar of his white cotton shirt. Obviously the man had a way with women of all ages. The shock had Maggie blinking at him, until she remembered that her daughter’s hands were unwashed and still grubby.
“Oh, no—she’s dirty. I’ll get a washcloth—”
Sloan looked down at the banana streaks on his white shirt and shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I’ll wash it for you.”
“Whatever.” He grinned when the child put her hands on his face and turned it to look at her. “You rang?”
She pointed in the general direction of the backyard. “Go ’side?”
Sloan met Maggie’s gaze. “Is it okay if I take her out?”
“You don’t have to—”
“I know. But I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to. Is it all right with you?”
“Yes,” she said helplessly.
“Okay, then. Let’s go, Shorty.”
Maggie’s heart melted at the sight of the big man carrying her little girl out of the room.
“I don’t remember any story in the tabloids about him having kids,” Josie said. “But he sure is good with yours.”
“I noticed.”
Charming, good with kids and not hard on the eyes. Sloan Holden was a triple threat. But he must have a flaw. Every man did.
Chapter Two (#ulink_a499f4c3-99d0-5993-b2f8-b29ecd53e5d2)
In Sloan’s opinion, Danielle Potter was the spitting image of her mother, minus the wariness in her big brown eyes. Or maybe it was sadness. Losing a husband must have been rough, especially the part where she was raising a child on her own. He set the little girl down on the patio and her feet had barely touched the ground before she headed for the grass, still wet with morning dew. It was early March, not quite spring, and a bit chilly. But the sun was shining in a clear blue sky that promised a beautiful day ahead.
He’d never before been responsible for a child. Ever. How hard could it be? Glancing around the big yard made him glad it was fenced in and the wrought iron bars were too close together for the toddler to squeeze through. He knew because that was the first thing she tried. After a quick check, he was satisfied that the gates on either side were secure and there would be no escape that way.
Sloan watched her squat and touch something with her tiny, probing finger. Bug? Snake? In two long strides he was beside her. “Whatcha got there, Shorty?”
She pointed to something he couldn’t see and a stream of unintelligible sounds came out of her mouth. The expression on her face said she was looking for an appropriate response from him, but he had nothing. That happened when the party with whom you were conversing spoke a foreign language known only to herself, and possibly her mother.
“Is it grass?” He looked closer, hoping there was no dangerous, venomous creature lurking that would force him to do something manly, like deal with it.
She shook her head, then stood and toddled over to an area with bushes surrounded by bark chips to set it off from the grass. He was almost sure he’d heard somewhere that bugs collected in this environment, and it seemed like a bad idea to let her continue to explore unchaperoned.
Glancing around, he saw a brightly colored swing set with a slide and climbing equipment all rolled into one. Clearly it was there for Danielle’s pleasure, so maybe he could channel her attention in that direction. And away from insect central.
He scooped her up in his arms, which set off instant rebellion. Sloan’s response to this was a revelation. Size and strength were on his side and ought to count for something but really didn’t. He would give her anything she wanted to make her happy.
“Want to go on the slide?” He held her high above him, pleased when she giggled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
He set her at the top of the thing. It wasn’t that high, but he was loath to let go and give her over to the unpredictability of gravity. It was remarkably astonishing to him how powerful his urge was to protect this small girl he’d voluntarily taken responsibility for. He held on to her as she slid down the short slide, then helped steady her at the bottom.
“Again,” she said very clearly.
“Okay. And we have a winner.” The sense of accomplishment he experienced at pleasing her wasn’t all that dissimilar from the satisfaction he felt at overcoming a particularly challenging construction problem.
Sloan set her at the top of the structure and held on a little more loosely this time, although he was ready to scoop her up if the situation went south. Fortunately it didn’t.
She grinned up at him and said, “Again.”
“Your wish is my command, milady.”
But before he could lift her up, the back door opened and Maggie stood there.
“Mama. Cookie,” Danielle said, toddling over to her mother.
“Breakfast first.” She met his gaze and there was a dash of respect in hers. “It’s ready. Thanks to you for entertaining her.”
“The pleasure was mine.” He truly meant that. “I enjoyed hanging out with her.”
“You’re very good with her. Do you spend a lot of time with kids?”
“Actually, no. That was a first for me,” he admitted.
“So you’re a natural. Someone should alert the paparazzi,” she teased.
“Oh, please no. I’ll give you anything to keep my secret.”
“You might change your mind after breakfast. And you must be starving. Everything is on the dining room table. Help yourself.” She grabbed up her daughter and settled the child on her hip. “I’ll get this one fed in the kitchen. So you can have some peace and quiet. If you’re interested, I’ve set out newspapers—local and national.”
“Thanks.” Sloan was less interested in newsprint than he was the sight in front of him—the beautiful young mother snuggling her rosy-cheeked toddler close.
He understood her struggle to make a home for boarders while carving out a private space for her own family, but would rather have filled a plate and followed the two of them to the kitchen.
That was different.
* * *
An hour later, after changing out of his banana-slimed shirt into a clean one, Sloan drove into the parking lot of the O’Keefe Building, where his cousin Burke had rented office space. Maggie’s brother, Brady, had built the place for his tech company’s corporate office. At this point there was more room than he needed for his business, so he leased out the extra space. Sloan figured since he’d be working under the same roof as Brady, their paths would cross, and he was looking forward to meeting Maggie’s brother.
Having visited on more than one occasion, Sloan knew where his cousin’s office was located. After pushing the button for the correct floor, he rode the elevator up. The car stopped and the doors opened into a spacious waiting area. There was a reception desk straight ahead where Burke’s assistant, Lydia, normally sat. She wasn’t there now, so he walked over to the closed door, knocked once, then went inside.
“Hey, Burke, I—”
Sloan stopped dead in his tracks. His cousin was there, all right, holding a beautiful brunette in his arms while kissing her soundly. He recognized the lady. Sydney McKnight, Burke’s fiancée. The scene in front of him was different from the usual all-work-all-the-time environment, and Sloan was beginning to wonder if he’d taken a tumble down the rabbit hole. His morning had started off with him entertaining a two-year-old before breakfast—not what normally happened in the five-star hotels he frequented, although not altogether objectionable, either. He’d been complimented on everything from his business expertise to the length of his eyelashes. But never had a flattering remark pleased him more than Maggie saying he was good with kids.
Now he’d accidentally intruded on a private moment. Instead of looking embarrassed, Burke proudly held on to his woman and grinned.
“Sloan,” he said, “welcome to Blackwater Lake. You know Sydney.”
“I do.” He closed the door and moved closer to the desk, a little surprised his cousin hadn’t brushed aside all the files and paperwork to have Sydney right there. Then again, Burke was a professional and would never do anything to compromise his employees or the woman he loved...no matter how much the intense expression in his blue eyes said he wanted her. “Hi, Syd.”
“Sloan.” She managed to wriggle out of Burke’s arms and stood beside him, her cheeks a becoming shade of pink. “How are you?”
“Fine.” Mostly. But he was feeling a little weird about this encounter and not entirely sure why. “Do I need to ask how you two are?”
“Spectacular,” Sydney said, gazing up with love in her eyes at the man next to her, then back to him. “Very glad to see you.”
“I doubt that,” Sloan said, “but I’ll play. Why are you glad to see me?”
“My reasons are purely selfish.” She shrugged.
“You mean, it has nothing to do with you pining after me?” he teased.
“Sorry.” She glanced up at her fiancé. “With you here, Burke will have help shouldering the workload and maybe have more time for me.”
“Ah.”
“You know if I were single I’d do it for you, cuz.” Burke looked and sounded like the soul of innocence, but it was an act.
“You’re full of it.” Sloan met his cousin’s gaze. “But because I like Sydney, I’m happy to pick up any slack so the two of you can have couple time.”
“Family time, really,” Burke amended. “We try to include Liam as much as possible.”
Sloan knew Burke and his son, Liam, had been through a rough patch when they moved to Blackwater Lake. Syd had been a bridge over troubled waters. But that had worked both ways when Burke had helped to convince her widower dad that she didn’t have to be settled in a relationship before he could move on with his life. As it happened, the two of them had ended up falling in love and Burke had proposed a couple of months ago at her father’s wedding to Loretta Goodson, the mayor of Blackwater Lake, Montana.
“How’s Liam adjusting?” Sloan asked.
“Great.” Burke looked thoughtful. “He’s got friends. He’s playing sports and doing well in school.”
“That’s good to hear.” Sloan heard an edge to the words and hoped no one else had. It wasn’t that he begrudged his cousin’s happiness, but this whole perfect-life, happily-ever-after thing was starting to make his teeth hurt.
“Well,” Syd said, “I have to get to work. My boss is very demanding.”
Sloan knew she worked for her dad at the family-owned garage in downtown Blackwater Lake. Even if he hadn’t, her khaki pants and matching shirt with a McKnight Automotive logo on the pocket would have been a clue.
Burke leaned down and kissed her lightly on the mouth. “Have a great day. Say hi to your dad for me.”
“Will do.” She walked to the door. “See you later, Sloan.”
“Right. ’Bye, Syd.”
When they were alone, he sat in one of the chairs facing his cousin’s desk. “She’s too good for you, Burke.”
“Don’t tell her that. I want to pull the wool over her eyes until we’re married and she’s stuck with me.” He stared longingly at the door where she’d disappeared. “All I can do is my damnedest every day to be the best man I can be and make her happy.”
If he had any doubts about his cousin’s commitment to Sydney, they would have disappeared at the lovelorn expression on his face. Sloan had mixed feelings. On one hand, he was very glad to see Burke so happy. On the other, he knew this signaled the end of any bachelor-type fun with his best friend.
And suddenly it hit him what had been bothering him since walking in on Syd and Burke. He felt as if he was on the outside looking in. Alone. Lonely and a little bit envious. What a shallow bastard he was, with a healthy dose of selfishness thrown in for good measure.
Until this moment, he hadn’t realized how much he’d been looking forward to hanging out with Burke and doing what bachelors did. Commitment changed everything and for Burke’s sake, he hoped it was for the better. For Sloan’s sake, it wasn’t, but he couldn’t help thinking about his luscious landlady and the until-death-do-us-part vow she’d made to the man she’d loved and lost. Had it been worth the price she’d paid and was still paying?
That thought made him more curious than he wanted to be about Maggie Potter.
* * *
In her office above the Harvest Café, Maggie stared at the spreadsheet displayed on her computer monitor. A few minutes ago the numbers had all looked good, but now she couldn’t tell. Her eyes were starting to cross and everything blurred together.
When her vision cleared, she glanced at her watch and couldn’t believe it was already two-thirty in the afternoon. On top of that, she hadn’t eaten lunch. Downstairs the noon rush was probably over, making this a good time to grab some food.
She took the stairway right outside her office and walked down to the first floor, entering the café through a back entrance into the kitchen. The bowls, plates and utensils in the stainless-steel sink and on food preparation areas showed signs of exactly how rushed the rush had been, and it was good news for their bottom line. Her partner was standing in the doorway between front and back, keeping an eye out for customers.
“My head is about to explode,” Maggie said. “Any chance of getting something to eat?”
Lucy Bishop smiled the smile that could have put her on magazine covers in swimsuits if her career path had taken her in that direction. Fortunately for Maggie, her friend was more interested in business than bikinis. She was a gorgeous, blue-eyed strawberry blonde who was forever being underestimated by men. It was immensely entertaining to watch them swallow their tongues and lose brain function in her presence.
“How about one of my world-famous chicken wraps with the secret sauce?”
“I don’t expect you to wait on me. You’ve been busy, too. I’ll make something myself.”
“Keep protesting,” Lucy said. “By the time you run out of steam I’ll have your order up.”
Maggie heard the words but they didn’t register. Her attention was focused on the sidewalk outside the café and the man who’d just parked his Range Rover in a space out front.
Sloan Holden.
The problem with taking a break from hard work was that there wasn’t anything to distract you from things you’d been deliberately not thinking about. Like seeing this big, strong man being gentle and protective with her daughter that morning. She couldn’t reconcile that man with the one who was a global heartbreaker.
The real question was why she didn’t want to think about him, and the best answer she could come up with was that he unsettled her.
“Maggie?”
“Hmm?” She looked at Lucy. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I’m making you a wrap.” Her partner automatically looked over when the door opened and Sloan walked in. She made a purring sound and said, “Right after I have that man’s baby. Holy Toledo, he’s a fifteen on a scale of one to ten.”
“And he’s my newest boarder.”
“Sloan Holden?” Lucy lowered her voice but turned her back on the newcomer just to make sure he didn’t hear.
“That’s him,” she confirmed.
“You have to introduce me.”
“Of course,” Maggie said, then the two of them walked over to where he stood by the sign that politely asked customers to wait to be seated. “Hi.”
“Maggie.” His gaze slid to her partner. “I’ve heard nothing but good things about the food here and decided to see for myself if the rumors are true.”
“They’re true,” Maggie confirmed. “And that is all due to the culinary skills of my business partner. Sloan Holden, this is Lucy Bishop.”
“Nice to meet you.” He held out his hand.
Lucy shook it. “The pleasure is all mine. Isn’t it a little late for lunch? Or is this an early dinner?”
“Lunch. I lost track of time.”
“I always say it takes a special kind of stupid to forget to eat.”
Maggie watched Lucy give him the smile that had made many a man putty in her hands, but Sloan didn’t bat an eye.
“Then, label me a moron because that’s the best excuse I can come up with,” he said.
“You’re in good company.” Lucy met her gaze. “Maggie just surfaced, too, and realized she hadn’t eaten.”
“Then, you should keep me company. I hate to eat alone,” he said. “And we dim-witted workaholics should stick together.”
“Thanks,” she said, “but I’m just going to take something back to my desk.”
“I don’t recommend that.” He raised an eyebrow. “A break from work is food for the soul. That’s just as important as nutrition for the body.”
There was no graceful way out of this, so she was better off just sucking it up. “You’re right. Let’s sit over there.”
The place was empty of customers at the moment and Maggie pointed to a table in a far corner that wasn’t visible through the front window. She grabbed a couple of menus and followed him. He was wearing dark slacks and a pale yellow dress shirt, different from the one her daughter had streaked banana on early this morning.
She was very proud of the way the café had turned out. The interior was decorated in fall colors—orange, gold, green and brown. The walls had country touches: an old washboard, shelves with metal pitchers and pictures of fruit and vegetables. It was cozy and comfortable. But probably light-years from the places Sloan went to.
They sat at a small round table covered by a leaf-print tablecloth. Two sets of utensils wrapped in ginger-colored napkins rested on either side.
After looking over the choices, he met her gaze. “What do you recommend?”
“Everything.” She smiled. “Obviously I’m prejudiced, but even the vegetarian selections are yummy. But my favorite is the chicken wrap. Lucy makes a dressing that is truly unbelievably good.”
“Sold,” he said.
When Lucy came over, they both ordered it and she promised to bring them out in a few minutes.
Maggie was watching Sloan’s face when Lucy walked away and saw the barest flicker of male appreciation. She felt a flicker of something herself and wasn’t sure what to call it. Envy? A visceral response? Whatever the label, she didn’t especially like the feeling and wanted to counteract it.
“She’s really pretty, isn’t she?”
Sloan met her gaze. “Yes, she is.”
“This small town is probably very different from what you’re used to.” Maggie knew that for a fact just from reading tabloid stories about him. “It can be lonely.”
“There’s lots of work to keep me busy.”
“I heard somewhere that breaks from work are food for the soul as important as nutrition for the body.”
His expression was wry. “Remind me to be careful what I say to you.”
“My point is—and I do have one—you should ask Lucy out,” she said.
“Oh?” There was curiosity in his expression, but he also looked amused.
“Yes. She’s beautiful and smart. Not to mention an awesome cook.”
“Until our food arrives, I’ll have to take your word on her culinary ability. And we barely spoke, so it was hard to tell whether or not she’s smart. But she is very pretty.”
“So ask her out.” The little bit Lucy had said was a big clue that she wouldn’t say no. Maggie unrolled the silverware from her napkin and set it on the table.
“Why should I?” he asked.
“She’s single. And so are you.” She settled the cloth napkin in her lap. “Unless you’re dating someone.”
“I’m not.” He met her gaze. “But it’s a well-documented fact that I’m a confirmed bachelor.”
“I have read that you have a reputation for quantity over commitment. But Lucy isn’t looking for Mr. Right.”
“Any particular reason?”
Yes, but Maggie had no intention of saying anything about that to Sloan, mostly because she didn’t know why. Instead, she countered, “Any particular reason you won’t commit?”
For the first time since he’d walked into the café the amiable and amused expression on his face cracked slightly. She’d struck a nerve, and that was annoying because she hadn’t thought he had any.
“Why does any man resist committing?” he said, not really answering.
“Good question. Color me curious. And all the more determined to convince you to ask Lucy out on a date.”
“For the life of me, I can’t figure out what your stake is in my personal life.”
“That’s because you don’t understand the fundamental dynamics of female friendship.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Communication and sharing,” she said. “I’m curious about the man behind the tabloid headlines. Lucy could find out so much if you’d take her out to dinner. And she would tell me everything.”
“Since you’re the inquiring mind who wants to know, why don’t I cut out the middleman—or woman—and just take you out to dinner.”
“Really?” She stared at him. “A widow with a small child?”
“Neither of those things means you can’t go out with me. You may have heard. There are these handy-dandy people called babysitters.”
That would only address the problem of what to do with Danielle when Maggie went out. She would still be a widow. But she had one irrefutable argument left.
“Look, Sloan, we both know I’m not the type of woman you go out with. In fact, just the opposite. I’m a businesswoman and mother.”
“True.” His eyes narrowed on her. “But what if this is a conscious choice on my part to date a woman who is the polar opposite of my usual type? And I’ve simply used the tabloids and their stories to throw everyone off my real purpose? A deflection.”
“You don’t mean you’re actually interested in someone like me?”
“Don’t I?”
Maggie had thought she had the upper hand in this verbal give-and-take. That she had him on the run. But his response stopped her cold. Of course, he was teasing. He had to be.
“Like I said—quantity over commitment. When would you have the time to troll for an ordinary woman?”
“You’d be surprised.”
“We’re talking about you,” she said. “Nothing would surprise me.”
“I’ll take that as a challenge, Maggie Potter.”
“If you’re planning a campaign just to surprise me, I’d have to say that you have way too much time on your hands.”
“Would it surprise you to know that I would really just like to get to know you?”
“Now you’re simply trying to get a rise out of me. It’s not going to work.”
“We’ll just have to wait and see.” He studied her, and the intensity was disconcerting. “But I sense you pushing me away and can’t help wondering about it. You don’t go out, do you? Why is that? Why do you keep to yourself? Is there a reason you won’t let yourself be happy?”
“I have priorities,” she said. “And how do you know I don’t go out? I’m perfectly capable of being happy. In fact, I am very happy.”
And defensive, she realized. Pride went before a fall and it was a long way down when she’d thought she had him right where she wanted him.
Note to self, she thought. Never underestimate this man.
Chapter Three (#ulink_8f014952-6492-545a-8573-57e555c17a5c)
“I love my daughter more than life itself, but I feel crushing shame for leaving her with my mom and enjoying myself with you guys.”
Maggie was sitting at a bistro table in Bar None, Blackwater Lake’s local drinking establishment, with her friends April Kennedy and Delanie Carlson. The latter had inherited the place from her dad, who had died the previous year.
“What you’re experiencing is a curious phenomenon. It even has a name. Mom guilt,” Delanie said.
She was another woman who made men turn into mindless idiots just by walking into a room. A blue-eyed redhead, she had just the right curves to fill out a pair of jeans. It was a weeknight and traditionally slow at Bar None, which made it ideal for their weekly evening out.
“I remember my mom saying the same thing.” April tossed a strand of sun-streaked brown hair over her shoulder as a bittersweet expression slid into her hazel eyes. “She couldn’t wait to get time to herself, but when it happened she missed me like crazy. I still miss her a lot.”
“So it is a mom thing.” Maggie took a sip of chardonnay, then looked at April, who had lost her mother to breast cancer. “And what you just said gives me hope and inspiration.”
“How?”
“You were raised by a single mom. No dad in the picture. And you turned out okay. A successful businesswoman with your photography shop on Main Street.”
“If I say I think my mother did a great job with me, does that sound conceited?”
“Of course not,” Delanie answered. “It’s just the truth.”
Maggie looked forward to this night out with her friends. She’d cooked dinner for her boarders and Josie had agreed to get it on the table for Sloan. Whenever he was around, Maggie was jittery and nervous, so it was a relief to have an evening off.
“And what about you, Dee?” she asked. “How are you doing since your dad passed away? I know you two were close.”
“I miss him.” Delanie looked around the place she now owned.
The interior reflected the Montana pioneer spirit—rugged and rustic. Overhead, dark beams ran the length of the ceiling and the still-original floor was fashioned from wood planks. Lantern-shaped lights illuminated the booths lining the exterior and bistro tables scattered throughout. A rectangular oak bar with a brass foot rail dominated the center of the room, and pictures of the earliest Blackwater Lake settlers with shovels, axes and covered wagons hung on the walls.
Delanie glanced at her friends. “This may sound corny, but I can feel him here. Sort of a presence. It’s comforting.”
“That’s good.” Maggie envied her friend. She’d never experienced comfort or felt Danny’s presence in the house he’d built for her. And when she looked at the daughter they’d made, sometimes she felt a guilt that had nothing to do with being a good mom and everything to do with a wife who’d let her husband down. He’d never had a chance to see his child.
“Okay, ladies,” Dee said. “This conversation has taken a dark and twisty turn. I took the night off and am paying Savannah to pour drinks so that I can have a distraction from work.”
April laughed. “Then, we picked the wrong place to distract you.”
“There aren’t a lot of places to go in a town this small,” Maggie commented.
“That’s going to change when the resort is built. Mark my words.” April nodded knowingly. “Maybe you can convince your new boarder the builder to put up a movie theater.”
“Or a shopping mall.” Delanie’s blue eyes took on a dreamy look. “I would happily indulge my love affair with shoes, especially the ones I didn’t have to drive an hour to buy.”
The other two thought about that and sighed dreamily.
“So what’s he like?” Delanie asked. “I saw Lucy the other day and she said Sloan Holden came into the café and had lunch with you.”
“What did Lucy say about him?” Maggie hedged.
“That he’s charming and handsome.”
Maggie’s heart started beating just a little too fast as soon as his name came up. For the past couple of days she’d seen him at breakfast and dinner. And that one day for lunch. He was unfailingly polite, undemanding, and her daughter followed him around whenever she saw him. But what distracted Maggie most was what he’d said at lunch, the hint that he’d used serial dating as a cover until he found someone like her.
Surely he’d been teasing. Although, if he really was anticommitment, hooking up with a widow who wasn’t interested in a relationship would certainly preserve his confirmed-bachelor status.
“So, is he?” April demanded.
Maggie blinked at her friends. “What?”
“Pay attention, Potter,” Dee scolded. “Is he charming and handsome?”
“Oh, I’m not the best person to ask.”
“Come on,” April said. “You’re a woman and you’re breathing. We’ve watched movies together and rated the actors on a scale. If you can do that, you can give us an opinion.”
“Since he’s a paying customer, it seems unprofessional to talk about him like this.”
Delanie frowned at her. “What’s up? It isn’t like you not to share.”
“I’m uncomfortable with the one-to-ten thing.”
“Okay. We’ll compare him to actors and see how he holds up. I’ll start.” April took a sip of her wine. “Channing Tatum.”
“Ooh,” Maggie said. “But no. Sloan is in good shape, but more like a runner than a wrestler.”
“Okay. How about Taylor Kitsch?” Delanie shrugged. “I just rented the movie Battleship. It was cheesy, but I loved it.”
Maggie knew the actor and thought for a moment, then shook her head. “He and Chris Pratt are a similar type and both are fantasy-worthy, but I wouldn’t say Sloan resembles them.”
“Definitely fantasy material,” April agreed. “I just saw the musical Into the Woods and I have to say that Chris Pine works for me in a big way as Prince Charming.”
“Bingo,” Maggie said. “He reminds me of Chris Pine, but with brown eyes and darker hair.”
Delanie used her hand to fan herself. “Be still, my heart. And he’s under your roof. How do you sleep at night?”
“Oh, you know. Exhausted after work, cooking for boarders and chasing after a toddler. I just close my eyes and...” Think about being alone in my big bed while Sloan is alone in his on the second floor of my house. “I’m sure you’ll both get a chance to meet him. This is a small town and—”
The bell over the bar’s front door tinkled and all three women looked over to see who’d walked in. Maggie instantly recognized Sloan, who smiled when he saw her.
“That’s him,” she whispered to her friends. “Sloan Holden.”
Without hesitation, he walked over to their table. “Hi, Maggie. Mind if I join you ladies?”
Before Maggie could think of a way to discourage him, her two friends enthusiastically invited him to pull up a chair. He did and settled in right next to her.
“So you’re Sloan Holden,” Delanie said.
“Yes.” He shook hands with her and April as they introduced themselves.
“What are you doing here?” Maggie asked. Then she realized that sounded just the tiniest bit abrupt and unwelcoming. “I mean, did you have dinner? Josie promised to put everything on the table for me. Since my mom has Danielle, it’s a chance for me to have a night off.”
“Yes, I did have dinner. Excellent pot roast, by the way. Josie mentioned that you were here and I felt like taking a night off myself.”
The implication was that he’d come looking for her. Whether or not that was the case, the idea of it kicked up her pulse.
“Delanie owns Bar None,” Maggie said.
He looked at the redhead. “I’m impressed. This is a nice place.”
“Thanks. Would you like a drink?”
“Beer,” he said. “Whatever you have on draft.”
“Coming right up.” Delanie slid off her chair and headed over to the bar, where the fill-in bartender was polishing glasses. She said something and the young woman grabbed a tall glass and filled it.
“April owns a photography studio,” Maggie said, filling the silence.
“I’ve seen it.” Sloan looked at the pretty brunette but gave no indication he noticed how pretty she was. “How’s business?”
“A little slow when it’s not ski or boating season. Tourism drops off then, but I diversify. Besides portraits and wedding pictures, I sell my photographs of landscapes and wildlife. I freelance for high school events and sometimes the sheriff’s office needs photos taken.”
“Sounds like you keep busy.”
Delanie returned and set a glass on a napkin in front of him. “Welcome to Bar None. First one is on the house.”
“Thank you.”
For several moments, the four of them sipped their drinks in silence. Maggie could tell her friends felt a little uncomfortable after talking about him. Then he’d walked in and it was a little like getting caught with their hands in the cookie jar. She was preoccupied because his thigh kept brushing hers. He seemed bigger at this bistro table than he did in her dining room. She needed to act normal because her friends would notice, but she didn’t feel at all normal around Sloan.
“So, Mr. Holden—”
“Sloan, please,” he said.
“Sloan,” April finally said. “I have a confession to make.”
“Yeah. We need to come clean,” Delanie chimed in, obviously aware of what her friend was going to say. “We were talking about you when you came in. Gossiping, really.”
“Oh?” Sloan didn’t look the least bit upset.
April nodded. “For the record, Maggie protected the privacy of her guest and wouldn’t cooperate. The thing is, this is a small town and not much happens. People gossip anyway. But when we have a celebrity, there’s going to be talk. And Bar None is gossip central, so we were doing our duty as loyal customers and citizens of Blackwater Lake.”
“I see your point.” Sloan held up his beer mug, signaling a toast. “To loyalty.”
They all clinked glasses and sipped.
“What do you want to know about me?” Sloan asked.
“So many things, so little time.” Delanie grinned. “Okay, since you volunteered... Why are you a confirmed bachelor?”
“Because I was married for fifteen minutes and found out I’m not good at it.” The answer was straightforward, matter-of-fact. No tension or evidence he’d been deeply hurt.
And then his muscular thigh bumped against Maggie’s and her nerves snapped, crackled and popped. Her gaze jumped to his and she saw laughter in his eyes. The table was small, but she would bet that he was deliberately touching her.
“What if you fall in love?” April wanted to know.
“I don’t believe in it. Simple, uncomplicated and fun. That’s all I’m looking for.”
“You’re honest. That’s pretty cute.” Delanie looked impressed. “But I think you should have that sentiment stitched on a sampler and mounted on the wall of your office.”
“Great idea. I’ll get my assistant right on that.”
“Not if you want her to continue being your assistant,” Maggie said.
“You’re probably right. Next question.”
“Can we talk you into building a movie theater in Blackwater Lake? Maybe a multiplex?”
“Why?”
“Someplace to go if we had a date,” Delanie said.
“If?” He looked at each of them in turn, but his gaze settled on Maggie. “Now that I think about it, why are three beautiful ladies such as yourselves not on a date right now?”
“Who says we want to date?” Maggie answered, thinking about what he’d said to her, about her not wanting to be happy. “We are successful businesswomen—fulfilled and content without a man.”
“Is it just me,” he said to April and Delanie, “or does she sound defensive?”
Why was he going there? Maggie thought. The last time they’d talked, he’d agreed that she wasn’t his type. So why was he zeroing in on her? She didn’t for a second buy his story about using tabloid interviews referencing him being a confirmed bachelor as a cover to look for someone like her. And then it dawned on her that he was flirting. It took a while to recognize the behavior because no one had flirted with her in a very long time.
“Not defensive.” She smiled at him and crossed one leg over the other. The movement brought their thighs into contact and she saw his eyes darken for a second. “Just telling it like it is.”
“So that’s what you say to all the guys?”
“No,” she said. “Just the ones who sell newspapers because of their escapades with women.”
The zinger made him grin and she felt that look all the way to her toes. She smiled back at him and realized she’d forgotten how much fun flirting could be.
* * *
When Sloan got back to the house after leaving the bar, he poured himself a scotch from the bottle his assistant had requested for his room and took the tumbler outside. It was a beautiful March night—cool, crisp, clear. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a more spectacular sky full of stars.
A little while ago he’d heard Maggie come home with Danielle. The open master-bedroom window backed up to the patio where he was sitting and the sounds of giggling and splashing drifted to him. It was bath time and all indications pointed to the fact that the girls were having a blast.
For some reason it made him feel lonely, again on the outside looking in. Especially after hanging out with Maggie at Bar None. She’d actually flirted with him and rubbed her leg against his, mostly, he suspected, because she was aware that he’d been deliberately doing that to her. He grinned at the memory even as his body grew hard with need. The attraction was unexpected and inconvenient, and he should have known better than to start something he had no intention of finishing. He’d been playing with fire and the burning inside him now was his punishment.
The voices inside the house became more subdued and then the light went off. Moonlight was now the only light source in the rear yard. He was almost sure Maggie was singing to her daughter, and then all was quiet. Moments later, he heard the microwave go on in the kitchen. The outside door opened and Maggie stepped onto the patio.
Sloan was pretty sure she didn’t see him, because she stood still, looking at the sky and taking deep, cleansing breaths. He figured it would be best to warn her she wasn’t alone.
“Maggie—”
“Dear God—” She jumped and let out a screech, pressing a hand to her chest. “You scared me.”
“Sorry.”
“I thought you’d be upstairs.”
“No. I wanted some air,” he explained.
“Me, too.” She blew out a long breath then met his gaze.
She was close enough that he could reach out and touch her. He really wanted to, which meant it probably wasn’t a very good idea.
“It’s a beautiful night,” he said.
“I don’t want to intrude. And I didn’t have dinner. I just put a plate in the microwave. You were here first.”
“Is there anything in the Potter House rules that says we can’t enjoy the fresh air together?”
“Of course not.” Moonlight revealed her mouth curving up in a smile.
“Danielle is settled for the night?”
“She is.”
“Then, you should take some time to enjoy the beauty of your own backyard.” He saw her catch her bottom lip between her teeth and need sliced through him, sharp and deep. “I’ll bet you don’t do it very much.”
“You’d win that bet.”
“Take a chance, Potter. Throw caution to the wind. Five minutes to fill up your soul.”
She sighed and he knew he’d won this round. There was a thickly padded chair at a right angle to his and she lowered herself into it.
“No guilt allowed.” In front of him her friends had teased her about feeling guilty for enjoying an evening away from her daughter. “Whatever you have to do inside will still be there when your spirit is renewed.”
“That’s for sure,” she agreed. “Somehow the B and B fairies never make it here to get breakfast ready or do laundry.”
“It’s just sad. You can’t get good fairy help these days.”
She laughed. “You’re very funny, Sloan.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“April and Delanie thought so, too.” She met his gaze. “They told me after you left.”
“So that’s why my ears were burning.”
“Oh, please. A man who spends as much time as you do with a vast number of women couldn’t possibly be surprised that we talked about you after you left.”
“I’m not at all surprised. Especially since your friends came right out and copped to the fact that you were discussing me before I got there.”
“You gotta love honest gossipmongers,” she pointed out.
“It was refreshing. And I liked your friends very much.”
“As I said, the feeling is mutual. You were exceptionally charming tonight, Holden.”
“I did my best.”
“Do you remember when you said we could ask you anything?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you may also recall that I never asked a question at all.”
He did. “I’m sensing that you would like to now. Am I right?”
“Yes. And I have several, if that’s okay.”
“Should I be afraid?”
“I promise it won’t hurt,” she said.
“Okay, then.” He set his empty tumbler on the outside coffee table. “What would you like to know?”
“Did you follow me to Bar None tonight?”
“That makes me sound like a stalker,” he hedged.
“Are you?”
“Wow. I’m not sure if going from serial killer to stalker is a step up.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “You’re very good at not answering questions.”
“Lots of practice,” he admitted. “Okay. It’s a hard habit to break, but I’ll stop sidestepping. When Josie mentioned that you were meeting friends it sounded like fun and I did deliberately crash the party.”
He couldn’t speak to how hard it was being a single mom and needing some downtime. But he knew how it felt to be a fish out of water, a big fish in a little pond and craving some social time. Not to mention being curious about Maggie. He braced himself for a grilling about following her.
“Why would you do that?”
“I needed to talk to someone about something other than work.”
“Oh.” She nodded. “I understand that. And then my friends asked you to build a movie theater.”
“It’s actually a great idea. The resort is going to bring in a lot of people. They’ll be looking for entertainment involving something other than skiing or boating and water sports.”
“Speaking of entertainment...” She tapped her lip. “Is it true that a woman once broke into your hotel room and waited in your bed? Naked?”
He groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
“So it is true.” She leaned forward, warming to her subject. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”
“By definition, breaking into my hotel room is bad.”
“Surely not the naked part.” Her tone was teasing.
“Whose side are you on? I was the injured party.”
“You sound like an outraged spinster. I don’t understand your problem. Was she fat? Cellulite? Abs weren’t prime-time ready?”
“She had a lovely body. Hotel security thought so, too, as did the police. Why would this be okay because I’m a guy? She violated my personal space.”
“I see what you mean.” She scooted to the edge of her chair. “There was another story about you spending millions of dollars on breakup baubles.”
“Baubles?” That’s one he hadn’t heard. Apparently he wasn’t aware of all his publicity.
“Yes. Diamond tennis bracelets. Emerald pendants. Sapphire earrings. If this is true, it could explain why women throw themselves at you. Naked,” she added.
“For the tasteful parting gift?”
“Yes. That’s a heck of a consolation prize.”
“Well, it’s not true.” The only woman who’d received a significant parting gift was his wife when he divorced her for cheating on him. Getting rid of her had been worth every penny it had cost him. He didn’t care so much for himself. The mistake had been his, as were the consequences. But she’d hurt his family and he’d paid the price of protecting them. And he would do it again if necessary.
“There was another story that got a lot of attention. Something about you not being very good in bed. And a very bad kisser.”
“Your friends didn’t ask this many questions,” he pointed out.
“Maybe their minds aren’t as inquiring as mine. In all fairness, less-than-satisfied lady was one of the women scorned and the story had all the signs of being about revenge.”
He stood. “How do you remember this stuff?”
“It’s fascinating.” She stood up, too.
“Well, I feel like an exhibit at the zoo.” He was an inch away from her, close enough to feel the warmth of her body and smell the sweet scent of her skin. “I think I hear the microwave signaling your plate of food is warm.”
“So was it about revenge? Or are you lacking in the romance department?”
“Is there any way to make you stop this interrogation?”
“Feed me.” She met his gaze and there was a sassy expression on her face. “Or kiss me.”
It wasn’t often that someone surprised Sloan, but Maggie did now. He remembered her saying this wouldn’t hurt a bit, but now he wasn’t so sure. The question was whether or not it would hurt more if he didn’t kiss her. Hell and damnation, this was a dilemma. But he didn’t get where he was in the business world by not taking a risk.
He curved his fingers around her upper arms and pulled her close, his gaze intent on her mouth. “I’ll take door number two.”
Chapter Four (#ulink_fe8b6aa9-e32a-54c7-bfb6-4ee75a5b9fc9)
Maggie had no idea why she’d dared Sloan to feed or kiss her, but when his lips touched hers she was really glad he’d picked the second option. His mouth was soft, gentle, tentative and tempting all at the same time. Her heart was racing and her knees were weak, but he was holding her and she trusted him not to let her go.
He whispered against her mouth, “Any more questions?”
“Hmm?” The only question on her mind was why he wasn’t still kissing her. “I can’t think of any.”
“Okay, then.” He slid his arms around her and pulled her close, then kissed her again.
It felt so good to be held and touched, wrapped in a pair of strong arms and pressed against a man’s body. She was pretty sure her toes were actually curling, and it was the most wonderful thing that had happened to her for longer than she could remember.
Time seemed to stop and she wanted to stay suspended in this sensuous dimension. Right here, right now, while she kissed Sloan Holden on her patio under the stars, there was no guilt, worry or doubt about being a single mom. She was simply a woman enjoying everything about being female and savoring this bold man who wasn’t afraid of a challenge. Sloan slid his fingers into her hair, cupping her head to make the pressure of their mouths more firm. His breathing was unsteady and it was thrilling to know she’d affected him, too.
And then she heard Danielle cry out. The sound came through the open window and reality rushed back like a slap in the face. She was a mother first and foremost. Maggie froze, waiting, and the sound came again, pouring in along with guilt, worry and even more doubt about her ability to do a decent job of raising her child alone. Look how easily this man had distracted her.
She took two steps back, away from the warmth of his body, and hating herself for missing it. “I need to check on my daughter.”
“Right. Of course.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “Do I need to apologize for that?”
“Is that what your gut is telling you to do?”
He shook his head. “But the look on your face right now is making me think it might be a good idea.”
What he was seeing on her face probably had more to do with astonishment. She had believed the part of her that could be turned on had died with her husband. But she was so wrong. Sloan had stirred something up and she wanted to settle it back down again.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for. It was my fault.” She played with her fingers, twisting them together nervously. “I have to go to Danielle.”
And begin the process of forgetting about this kiss.
* * *
Several days went by and Maggie realized she was looking at time passing and putting it in two columns: before and after that kiss. She saw Sloan at breakfast and dinner, doing her best to go back to being his hospitable, professional but friendly landlady and not the woman who’d challenged him to kiss her. She talked to him as little as possible and he didn’t push the issue by striking up a conversation. And there was a conclusion to be drawn from that. He regretted the kiss, too.
She set a platter of scrambled eggs and hash browns on the dining room table, where Sloan and Josie were sitting. The fruit and freshly baked muffins were already there.
“Can I freshen anyone’s coffee?” she asked.
“I’m good.” Sloan barely glanced up from the newspaper he was reading.
“Me, too.” Josie was giving her a quizzical look.
“All right, then. Let me know if you need anything.” She left the room.
Her daughter sat in the high chair eating half a banana. If she hadn’t been, she would have been bugging Sloan. As if Maggie needed another one, that was a good reason to back off from him. And that was what she’d been doing, pretty successfully, in her opinion.
A half hour later, Sloan said goodbye and headed for the door. Danielle called out, “Bye-bye,” and wiggled her fingers in her version of a wave. That earned the little girl a big grin from Sloan, but Maggie was the one who felt the power of it. And a pang of disappointment that he hadn’t aimed the warmth at her.
Josie brought plates and platters into the kitchen. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“I’d be happy to if you’d be more specific.”
The other woman started rinsing off plates and putting them in the dishwasher. “I’m talking about you and Sloan. Since he arrived, there’s been a nice friendly vibe going on between the two of you. And in the past couple days it’s changed. You barely speak, and it can only be described as awkward. What the heck happened?”
That kiss happened, Maggie thought. She’d gone over it a thousand times. He never would have done it if she hadn’t put the suggestion out there. Over and over she wondered why she had. Maybe the glass of wine. Possibly it was all the flirty talk and leg touching while sitting beside him at Bar None. The lingering effects of that might have made those fateful words come out of her mouth. Oh, how she wanted them back.
Josie was a friend as well as one of her boarders. But Maggie was proceeding on the hope that not talking about what happened on the patio would make it go away.
“You think we’re acting awkward?”
“And how.” Standing by the sink, Josie put a hand on her hip. “And don’t think I didn’t notice that you just answered a question with a question and gave no information at all.”
Maggie was kind of hoping that one had slipped by, but no such luck. “Would I do that?”
“Seriously, Maggie? You just did it again. That only confirms my suspicion that there’s something going on with the two of you.”
“Knock, knock.” The front door opened and in walked Maggie’s mom, Maureen O’Keefe. She had brown eyes and dark hair shot through with silver, cut in a piecey style with the back flipped up. She smiled at Danielle, then walked over and cupped her granddaughter’s small face in both hands before kissing her forehead. “Hello, my precious little girl.”
“Hi, Mom.” Maggie was grateful for the distraction. “Once upon a time I was your precious girl.”
“You still are.” Her mom walked over and cupped her face in her hands, then kissed her forehead. “Hi, Josie. Are we still on for shopping?”
“Just as soon as your precious girl—the grown-up one—comes clean about what’s going on between her and the new guy.”
Maureen’s brown eyes turned wary. “There’s something going on? Between you and Sloan Holden? I’m going to have to meet him.”
“Oh, please—” Maggie tried to look as innocent as possible.
“See?” Josie pointed at her. “That’s the kind of answer I’ve been getting. Which is to say no answer at all. You’re her mother. Surely you can get her to talk.”
“Can you give me a little context?” Maureen said.
“I can see where that would help.” Josie thought for a moment. “Like I just said to Maggie—since he got here things have been friendly and fun. Easy. That changed a couple of days ago and you’d think we’re having another ice age the way these two act. Makes me want to put on a parka every time they’re in the same room.”
The two older women stared at her expectantly and Maggie squirmed. She felt like a kid caught doing something wrong when her only motive was to try to do the right thing. “It’s all about being a professional. Creating a comfortable, uncomplicated space for my guests. I’ve never run a bed-and-breakfast before, so I’m experimenting with just the right feeling and mood.”
Maggie saw a look on her mom’s face and not for the first time wished the woman couldn’t see through her like a piece of clear plastic.
“Really?” Maureen said skeptically. “I know you, Margaret Mary Potter.”
Uh-oh. It was never good when her mom used all three names. Made her want to walk herself into a corner and face the wall until she was told her time-out was over. “Yes, you do.”
“Josie’s right. Something is up and you’re avoiding it like the black death. What did that man do to you?”
Well, this was a fine mess. She wanted to bury her head in the sand and ignore what had happened. But she couldn’t let them believe Sloan had harmed her. He’d shaken her up, but there was no permanent damage done. She would get back her perspective and all would be well. As long as these two women got an answer to their questions.
“It was nothing, really.”
“Then, you won’t mind sharing details,” her mom said. “What was it, really?”
“He kissed me.” Maggie shrugged.
“Well, then,” Josie said, her tone full of approval. “When?”
“Where?” Maureen asked. “Here? In the bedroom?”
“That’s not important,” Maggie protested.
“It kind of is,” her boarder said. “You know the only way this inquisition stops is when we get all the facts.”
“That’s not happening. And if you guys insist on pushing the issue, you’re going to miss out on the early-bird specials at the mall.”
“Come on, Maggie. I’m your mother. Put yourself in my shoes. What if Danielle wouldn’t tell you about something going on in her life?”
Maggie nearly knuckled. Her mom was really good at applying just the right amount of motivational guilt. But she held back.
“You are my mother and I love you.” She unstrapped Danielle from the high chair and lifted her out to toddle around the room. “But there really is nothing more than that to tell. He kissed me and we both realized it meant nothing.”
“Not from the ice age I’ve been living in,” Josie muttered. “Don’t be too hasty about this.”
“It’s not a rush to judgment. It’s reality. I’m a widow with a daughter to raise. He was in People magazine’s ‘most eligible millionaire bachelor’ issue. If that doesn’t make us incompatible enough, he has a playboy reputation. Love ’em and leave ’em.”
“But he’s so sweet with Danielle. Maybe he just hasn’t met the right woman yet,” Josie suggested.
“He’s met dozens of women, and if none of them were right it’s because he’s not interested in making a commitment.” Maggie looked at both women and sighed. “He’s a nice man. And he seems good with children. But a good deal of evidence points to the fact that he’s all flirt and no depth.”
“Are you sure you’re not just projecting that on him? Stereotyping him so he’s not a threat?” her mom asked.
“I’m not labeling him that way. Magazines and newspapers have reported on his activities. It’s all flash and no substance. A game. I’m too busy for games. So it’s best if we avoid each other.”
“But—”
“No, Mom. No buts. I’m a mother and a businesswoman. There’s no room in my life for a man. Especially one like Sloan Holden.”
She grabbed up her daughter and whisked her into the other room for a diaper change before the two older women could gang up on her again. It was for the best that she steer clear of Sloan, and thank goodness he was avoiding her, too.
* * *
Nearly a week after Sloan had kissed Maggie, he was pretty sure he was losing his mind. Up until that complete and utter failure of judgment when he’d touched his mouth to hers and found out she tasted even more amazing than he’d imagined, his business focus had been notorious, in a good way. His cousin had said more than once that he was like a computer, all circuits firing, efficiency central.
It had all changed after that kiss under the stars.
In the past couple of days he’d forgotten meetings, and in the ones he’d attended, his mind had wandered to the spectacular way Maggie’s backside filled out a pair of jeans when she bent over the oven to pull out a pan of blueberry muffins. Then first thing this morning, his assistant had asked him for the quarterly reports he’d brought home last night to look over. And he had looked them over. Corrections were all neatly marked and initialed. But it didn’t do her any good because he’d left the B and B without his briefcase that morning.
He’d been in a hurry to get out of there before someone noticed he was staring at Maggie. Couldn’t seem to keep himself from looking at her when there were more muffins and bending over. Yeah, he was going to hell.
But first he had to go back and retrieve the briefcase full of work that his assistant needed. It was midmorning and he figured Josie was volunteering as usual at the library and Maggie was at the café by now. The coast would be clear and he was in his car and nearly there.
He turned right off the main road and followed the narrow street to the end, where the log home that was Potter House stood. In the semicircular driveway he saw her dark blue SUV with the tailgate open and the cargo area filled with grocery bags. Maggie was leaning into the rear passenger seat, filling out those jeans almost as nicely as when she took something out of the oven.
So much for the coast being clear.
He groaned and wondered what he’d done to tick off fate and what he could do to turn around his bad luck. In his opinion, the best option was to pretend nothing had happened. Just the way Maggie was doing.
He opened his car door and got out, prepared to say hello and pretend, for all he was worth, that the kiss had been no big deal and everything was normal. That was when he heard the high-pitched wails coming from the rear seat of her car.
“Come on, Danielle. Mommy doesn’t have time for this. I have to unload the groceries. Food is melting.”
The quietly spoken, utterly reasonable words had no effect on the completely unreasonable toddler, and the screaming continued. Sloan wanted to retrieve his briefcase and go back to his office. None of this was his problem. But he couldn’t do it.
“Hi, Maggie,” he said, walking up to the open tailgate. “I’ll get those bags.”
She straightened and met his gaze, a puzzled expression on her face. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work? What are you doing here?”
And wasn’t that the million-dollar question. Telling the truth was best. He didn’t have to get into all of it. “I left some paperwork here and my assistant needs it today.”
“Then, you should get it to her.” Maggie’s voice got a little louder in order to be heard above the wailing coming from the backseat of her car. “I’ve got this.”
Not from where he was standing. “I’m sure you do, but since I’m here, it will just take a couple of minutes to get the groceries into the house. I’ll do that while you take care of Shorty.”
The look of stubborn independence on her face said she was going to push back. While he admired her character, arguing was a waste of breath. He was stubborn, too, and in the time it would take for a conversation, he could have all the groceries in the kitchen.
Without a word, he reached into the cargo area of the SUV and took as many bags as he could carry.
“Hold on,” she said, racing past him and up the stairs to the front door. “I’ll unlock it.”
“Thanks,” he said, moving past her.
“No. Thank you.” And then she went back to the car and liberated her daughter from the car seat.
Sloan passed her in the living room on his way out for a second trip. Maggie had her child in one arm and a bag in the other. She tried to put the little girl down, but the toddler pulled her legs up, refusing to stand. And she was crying her eyes out. At that rate, it would have taken her all day to unload the car. Maybe it was a good thing he’d lost his mind and forgotten work material.

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