Dockside at Willow Lake

“It is simple. Bailey retired from the bank and Brooke took over the asset management. She sold me the inn.”

Nina glared at him. “What did you do, sleep with her to get a good deal on the place?”

He glared back. “That’s none of your business.”

All right, Nina thought, that was probably a low blow, but she didn’t care. “I don’t get it. What on earth do you want with this place?”

“It’s exactly what I’ve been hoping to find. A business that keeps me close to home for my kids, something I like doing. And I know you’re the ideal manager. You’ve got a history with the place, experience running it. You’re perfect.”

This was so classic. The Bellamys were a favored family. It seemed to Nina that every last one of them had been born with a silver spoon in their mouth. It seemed that fortune denied them nothing. While ordinary people like the Romanos struggled for everything they had, the Bellamys swept in and helped themselves.

For Nina, even traveling was bad luck. “The deal’s off,” she said tightly.

“Are you always this angry, or is this something special, just for me?”

“I had plans,” she snapped. “I know that doesn’t matter to you, but—”

“Come on, Nina. At least hear me out.”

“Why should I?”

He didn’t react to her challenging tone. Instead, he said simply, “No reason. We barely know each other. For what it’s worth, I had plans, too.”

Plans. “You probably want to turn this place into some kind of overpriced corporate retreat,” she said. “And wouldn’t that be just charming.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

“I’ve seen the numbers. It’s the best way to turn a profit.”

“And that’s what I’m all about. Turning a profit.”

To be honest, she didn’t know what he was about. She didn’t know much about him at all. That hadn’t stopped her from jumping to conclusions about him. She took her fury down a notch.

“So tell me. I really want to know.”

He studied her, and there was something in his gaze, some level of trust and confidence. “All my life, I’ve done what I thought I was supposed to do. Ten years ago, I started my own firm in Manhattan because it seemed like the responsible thing to do. What I ended up with was a job I didn’t like and one that made me ignore my family.”

All right. So he wasn’t a complete selfish bastard. But why on earth did his act of redemption have to step on her toes? “There are lots of ways to do that,” she told him. “You don’t need this place.” I do, she thought. I always have. When she was fifteen years old, the roadmap of her life had unfolded, and she’d always known her final destination was here.

“You don’t know what I need. Maybe this will give you an idea.” He went to the front desk, already furnished with computer and phone. She heard the breathy whisper of a printer, and then he brought her a copy of the contract. She’d been so excited the day she’d signed it. Now she felt sick to her stomach.

“The modifications are in bold,” he said.

“You think you can come in here with your money, buy this place and me along with it, a single woman with limited options,” she said. “Well, think again. You can’t—”

“When you buy a business, you buy all its assets and liabilities. This contract with you is one of its assets.”

She grabbed the document from him and studied his suggested changes. She blinked to make sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks. He had increased the salary and added a profit-sharing option and pension.

Just for a moment, she wavered. This was real money. For once in her life, she would be financially secure. She could help out Sonnet, because even with the scholarships she’d won and her father’s contributions, it didn’t mean her education would be without cost.

No, Nina thought. No. She recoiled from the contract as though it had turned into a snake. For all the incentives he’d added, he’d still taken away the one thing worth having—the possibility of owning the place one day.

She got up and went to the window, knowing she probably looked completely undignified in a robe three sizes too big, but she didn’t care. She studied the view outside—a broad, sloping lawn dotted with Adirondack chairs, the belvedere, carriage house and caretaker’s quarters, the boathouse, dock and the lake in the distance. Max had apparently grown bored with fishing. A pole lay abandoned on the dock. “I’m not signing that,” she said over her shoulder. “Find someone else.”

“I suppose I could opt for a commercial management company from out of town, but I’m hoping to avoid that. I want you,” he said simply.

She swung around to face him. “You can’t have me.”

His expression indicated that this was not something he often heard from a woman. Well, of course not. He was a Bellamy. He looked like the American Dream come to life. He was not the kind of guy a woman refused. “You were perfectly happy to make a deal with the bank,” he pointed out.

“That was different. I—” She stopped herself. She wasn’t going to tell him her hopes, the future she’d imagined for herself. It was none of his business, and she already looked pathetic enough, standing here in her borrowed robe. “I have to go,” she said, heading down the hall to the laundry.

“Your clothes aren’t dry yet.”

“I’ll live.” She’d survived worse.

He intercepted her in the hall. For a second, his nearness shocked her and she didn’t know why. Her skin flushed and her heart sped up, and all he was doing was standing there. He smelled of the freshness of the lake, and unlike some guys, he looked even better up close. Kissing Shane Gilmore hadn’t affected her like this, and Greg wasn’t even touching her.

She glared at him. “You’re in my way.”

“I’m just not getting the rage, Nina. What is up with you?”

“You don’t get me, that’s what. This was supposed to be my time to shine. My whole life has been reacting to a change of plans. I never dreamed I’d be realigning my thinking about this and now here I am … I don’t walk away from a challenge.”

“Then why would you do that now?”

“There’s nothing here for me, nothing but a job, working for you. I don’t need this. I don’t need you. I have options.”

“I want you to stay,” he said, still close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath. “Let’s talk about this.”

She suspected he started a lot of sentences with “I want.” She kept her gaze steady as she said, “There’s really nothing to talk about. I suggest you get busy trying to find someone to sign your contract.” With that, she pushed past him with as much dignity as she could muster, and ducked into the laundry. She slammed the door and opened the industrial-size dryer. Sure enough, her clothes were at that lukewarm, half-dry stage that made them clammy and supremely uncomfortable. She didn’t care. She had to get the hell out of here.

She could feel the fury and resentment pouring off her as she returned to the salon with the damp clothes stretched over her, probably in the most unflattering fashion. Greg either didn’t notice or didn’t care about her appearance or her state of mind as he followed her outside, across the lawn and down the dock.

“Let’s put the kayak on my truck and I’ll give you a lift back to your place.”

“No, thanks,” she said pulling on her vest. Such a gentleman, ripping her future to shreds while offering her a lift to nowhere. In one angry movement, she launched the kayak, got in the rear seat and pushed off.

“Nina,” he called.

Forget it, she thought. He can beg all he wants. In so many ways, he was still that too-handsome, too-lucky guy she remembered from the past. She wondered what he remembered about her. Sure, it was a long time ago, but still…. Clearly the meetings had meant more to Nina than to Greg, which only fueled her anger at him.

“Nina.” His voice was a bit more urgent. “I don’t care how pissed off you are,” he said. “You won’t get far without this.”

She glanced back in time to see him standing on the dock, holding out a double-ended paddle.

So much for her exit. Leaning forward, she reached for the paddle. She couldn’t quite touch it, so he leaned a little farther over the water until she was able to grasp the blade. At the same time she gave it a slight tug—an accident, of course. For a split second, they engaged in a tug-of-war, angry gazes locked, the paddle between them. Seized by a childish impulse, she gave one final tug on the oar. He wobbled for a moment, then pitched forward into the water, making a splash that didn’t quite drown his curse.