The Widow's Bachelor Bargain

“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?”