Forgotten Honeymoon

Having seen more than enough, Kristina turned now in a complete circle to get a panoramic feel for the room. Ideas were breeding in her mind like fertile rabbits.

Her eyes came to rest on the large brick fireplace. It was dormant at the moment, but she could easily envision a warm, roaring fire within it.

“Fireplaces.”

“Excuse me?” June looked at her uncertainly.

Kristina turned to look at her. “Fireplaces,” she repeated. “The other rooms are going to have to have fireplaces. I’m going to turn this into a place where newlyweds are going to be clamoring to spend the first idyllic days of their life together.”

She ignored the dubious look on the other woman’s face. She made a quick mental note as she continued to scan the room. The coffee table was going to have to go.

June pointed out the obvious. “But there’s no room for any fireplaces.”

“There will be, once a few walls are knocked down and the extra bathrooms are put in,” Kristina responded, doing a few mental calculations.

Placing her escalating ideas on temporary hold, Kristina looked at the woman behind the counter. She’d had one of her assistants obtain information from June’s personnel file before she flew out. She had a thumbnail bio on everyone who worked at the inn.

June had been here for over twenty years. She looked very comfortable in her position. Too comfortable. From the way she talked, June probably would resist change, and that meant she was going to have to go. It would be better to have young, vibrant people working at the inn, anyway. Young, like the idea of eternal love.

The success that loomed just on the horizon excited Kristina.

“I need a telephone book,” she told June suddenly. No time like the present to get started getting estimates. “The classifieds.”

June had a really bad feeling about all this. Kristina Fortune had announced her presence with all the subtlety of a hurricane. The very few, very leading questions that the woman had asked made June believe that the inn was in danger of being torn apart, piece by piece, staff member by staff member. She liked her job and the people she worked with, the people she had come to regard as her extended family. She felt very protective of them, and of Max.

She wondered what was keeping him. She’d called him nearly an hour ago.

Kristina noticed that June gave her a long, penetrating look before bending down behind the front desk to retrieve the telephone book.

It only reinforced Kristina’s intention to replace her. June Cunningham moved like molasses that had been frozen onto a plate all winter.

No wonder this place was falling apart. Everyone moved in slow motion. The gardener she had passed on her way in looked as if he had fallen asleep propped up against a juniper bush.

And there was supposed to be a maid on the premises to take care of the sixteen rooms. If there was one, Kristina certainly hadn’t seen her since she arrived.

June placed the yellow pages on the counter with a resounding thud. “Planning on calling a taxi?” she asked hopefully.

The sentiment wasn’t lost on Kristina. Don’t you wish.

It wouldn’t be the first time she had run into employee displeasure. If she was in the business of trying to make friends with everyone, it would have bothered her. But Kristina had learned a long time ago that most people were jealous of her position in life. Jealous of the money that surrounded her. It had them making up their minds about her before she ever had a chance to say a word. So Kristina ignored the opinions so blatantly written across their faces and did what she had to do. She wasn’t out to make friends, only a reputation.

Kristina frowned as she flipped through the pages, looking for the proper section. She wondered where she could get her hands on an L.A. directory. This one was relatively small. There weren’t many companies to choose from.

“No, a contractor.” She spared June a cool glance. “This place needs work.”

“Antonio is our handyman,” June told her easily. “He doubles as a waiter.”

That would undoubtedly explain the condition of the inn, Kristina thought. “It’s going to take more than a handyman to fix up this place. It needs a complete overhaul.”

June thought of telling the woman in the crisp teal business suit that Max was a contractor, but decided against it. Max could tell her that in person, when he got here. It could be the icebreaker. And from where she stood, it looked like there was going to be a lot of ice to break, June thought.

Kristina looked around. There was no sign of a telephone on the desk. “Where’s your telephone?” Impatience strummed through her as she marked one small ad. Jessup & Son promised that no job was too small or too large. It was as good a place as any to begin.

The answer didn’t come quickly enough. Kristina waved a dismissive hand in June’s direction. If this was a sign of the service, no wonder there was no one staying here. “No, never mind. I’ll just use mine.”

Kristina opened one of the compartments in her purse and extracted her cellular telephone. Reading the numbers on the ad again, she punched them into the keypad. She raised her eyes to June’s face when she heard the audible sigh of relief. The next moment, the woman was hurrying to the front door.

Phone in hand, Kristina turned to see who had managed to liven the woman up enough for her to actually display some speed.

June hooked an arm through Max’s as she pulled him over to the side. “Max, she’s calling contractors. Do something.”

So this was the other owner of the inn. Kristina flipped the telephone closed. The call could wait. “Home is the hunter,” she murmured, quoting one of her favorite lines.

Slowly her eyes took the measure of the other half owner, from head to foot. There was a lot to measure. Tall, Max Cooper looked, in Kristina’s estimation, like a rangy cowboy who had taken the wrong turn at the last roundup. He was wearing worn jeans that looked as if they’d been part of his wardrobe since he was in high school. They adhered to his frame with a familiarity reserved for a lover. The royal-blue-and-white work shirt beneath the faded denim jacket made his eyes stand out.

Even from a distance, she saw that they were a very potent blue. The kind of blue she would imagine belonged in the face of a Greek god. If that Greek god was smoldering.

From what she could see, the hair beneath his slouched, stained cowboy hat was brown and long. As unruly and unkempt as the inn appeared to be.

Kristina was beginning to see the connection.

The man’s appearance might have impressed someone from Central Casting, as well as a good handful of her female friends, unattached and otherwise, but it didn’t impress her.

Business sense was what impressed her, and he apparently didn’t have any.

She was looking him over as if he were a piece of merchandise to be appraised, Max thought. He did his own appraising.

So this was the whirlwind June had called him about. He’d met Kate Fortune only once, years ago. She’d come out for a long Memorial Day weekend to sign some papers with his foster parents. He remembered the way she’d looked, sitting on the terrace, with the sun setting directly behind her, haloing her head. Even as a teenager, he’d known he was in the presence of class.

Right now, what he felt he was in the presence of was a brat. A very lovely brat, with great lines and even greater legs, but a brat nonetheless.

She had no business here.

He knew he read her expression correctly. Kristina Fortune looked as if she wanted all the marbles and didn’t care who she had to elbow out of the way to get them. Well, half the marbles were his, and he intended for them to stay that way.

Just the way they were, and positioned where they were, without any walls coming down.

Knowing the value of getting along with the enemy, June, her arm still hooked through Max’s, drew him over toward Kristina.

“Max, this is the new half owner.” Kristina heard the way the woman emphasized the word half. June’s smile deepened. “Kristina—”

Not waiting to be introduced, Kristina shifted her cellular phone to her other hand and stepped forward, thrusting her hand into Max’s.

“Kristina Fortune, Kate’s granddaughter. At least, one of them,” she amended, thinking of her half sister and cousins. Kate had treated them all equally, but only she was going to turn her bequest into a shrine for her grandmother.

Maybe I’ll hang her portrait over the fireplace, Kristina thought suddenly.

Yes, that would add just the right touch. She knew just the one to use, too. The one that had been painted on Kate’s thirtieth birthday. Her grandmother had still had the blush of youth on her cheek. Her beautiful red hair had been swept up, away from her face, and she had had on a mint-green gown…