Bailey had thrown down the gauntlet, and Justin had taken it up. He leaned back in his chair at the coffee shop. He didn’t want to think about the damage that would be done by the time he won this battle. “Enough about the inn.”
She eyed him warily. “That’s the only reason we’re here.”
Not him.
He’d never met a woman like Bailey Cole and wouldn’t mind getting to know her better. Smart, attractive, she would prove a worthy opponent, but no matter how determined she was, she would lose. At the end, she would hate him, if she didn’t already. He couldn’t tell. That bugged the hell out of him.
“Doesn’t mean the inn’s all we have to discuss.” The coffee shop door jingled. From his peripheral vision, he saw people entering, but his attention remained on Bailey. Justin rested his elbows on the wooden table. “Tell me about—”
“I’m boring.”
“Haley’s Bay,” he said a beat after she spoke.
She blushed.
Hmm. Maybe she liked him a little or maybe she was egocentric. Either way, she amused him, but he kept his smile neutral rather than a blatant I-see-you’re-interested-in-me grin.
Justin raised his cup, only to realize no coffee remained. He took a pretend sip. Bailey would be none the wiser, and that would keep them from saying goodbye too soon.
“Didn’t you do a market analysis of the town before you purchased the inn?” she asked.
“For an artist and former cook, you know how business works.”
“Common sense. And art is a business if you want to make a living with your work.”
He liked her answer. Brains had always been a turn-on to him. “A market analysis was performed, but you live here. I want to hear what you think.”
Bailey gazed into her mug, then looked up at him. “Haley’s Bay is a typical Pacific Northwest small town. The name comes from a trader who anchored his ship in the bay. Fishing used to drive the local economy, but now tourism brings in the money. Population nearly doubles in the summer, thanks to tourists wanting to hang out at the beach or sightsee. The Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center appeals to the history buffs. And who doesn’t like lighthouses?”
“Sounds like you gave me the Chamber of Commerce robot spiel.”
A smile lit up Bailey’s face. “Guilty. I’m biased, so I gave you the vanilla, glossy trifold brochure version.”
“I want to hear the Rocky Road version.”
“With nuts?”
“Of course.” Some whipped cream would be nice, too. And a cherry. He undid the top button on his collar.
“Well... Haley’s Bay is a small town with lots of history. A couple of families like mine have lived here forever. Gossip is rampant. The women at the Cut, Curl & Dye Salon are the worst. I drive to Astoria if I need a trim, or do it myself. The guys who hang out at the Crow’s Nest aren’t much better. Conformity is applauded here. Being different means no one will even try to understand you, except family. And that’s not always a given. High school was brutal for kids like me. Most grew up dreaming about leaving for the big city, but many of us stayed or came back. “
“You came back?”
“I never left except for college. My family, except for two older brothers, lives here. For all the town’s faults, there’s a sense of paying it forward in Haley’s Bay I haven’t found elsewhere. This is the only place I want to live.”
At least she was honest about that fact, unlike his ex, who swore she wouldn’t miss living in Portland. But Taryn had gone into the marriage thinking she could change his mind about staying on the coast. “You mentioned driving to Seattle.”
Bailey nodded. “I oversee AJ’s gallery. I’m up there a few times each month.”
“More opportunity for art sales in the big city?”
“In the off-season, most sales happen through the Seattle gallery. I’m grateful for the extra exposure. So, you live on the Oregon coast?” She downed what remained in her cup.
“Lincoln City. My sister Paige works with my parents at our headquarters there. She’s an attorney. My younger sister, Rainey, is an interior designer and spends her time at whatever resorts we’re renovating.”
“You oversee construction.”
“And design. That’s my favorite part.”
“You’re an architect who wears different hats.”
He nodded. “Keeping the work in the family. All we’re missing is a chef.”
“Your parents should have had four kids.”
“We joke about that.”
Bailey glanced out the window to her right. She leaned toward the glass. “The stray dog from the inn is out there. He’s so skinny.”
Justin followed the direction of her gaze.
The thin brown dog sat on the sidewalk staring into the coffee shop. Mud covered the animal, but Justin saw the outline of the dog’s bones beneath the dirty fur.
Bailey stood, took a step toward the door. “That dog needs medical attention.”
He rose. “Where are you going?”
“To get the dog.”
“Stay off your feet. I’ll get the dog.”
Her gaze narrowed. “You sure?”
Helping the dog might put him on Bailey’s good side. “Positive.”
How much trouble could a dog be? Justin stepped out of the coffee shop. The sun was brighter, the temperature at least five degrees hotter since they’d entered the coffee shop.
“Hey, dog.” He looked at the pathetic, filthy animal that hadn’t moved. “Hungry?”
The dog panted.
“You must be thirsty, too.” Justin knew nothing about animals and couldn’t believe he was having a conversation with a dog. But anyone with half a heart could see this one needed help. “Come here so we can get you fixed up.”
The dog scratched himself with a hind leg.
“You know you don’t want to be on your own out there. Let’s get you some food. A bath. Flea medicine.”
The dog tilted his head. Two brown eyes watching Justin.
He took a step closer. “Make me look good for the pretty lady looking out the window, and I’ll get you a bone.”
The dog didn’t move.
“And a ball.” He came closer. At least the dog didn’t seem to be afraid of him. “That’s fine. Just sit there. I’ll come to you.”
Justin wanted to show Bailey he had this, even if he’d never owned or even walked a dog. He stood less than an arm’s distance away. “Let’s get you fed and cleaned up, buddy.”
He reached for the dog, felt fur under his palm, then air. The dog bolted.
Justin lost his balance and hit the sidewalk, flat on his ass. So much for impressing Bailey.
“Oh, no,” Bailey’s voice sounded from the door to the coffee shop. “Are you okay?”
He sat on his butt, brushed off his hands. “Ego’s bruised, but that’s about it.”
She joined him on the sidewalk. Her lips curved upward. “Not very experienced with dogs, are you?”
“You could tell.”
A smile graced her lips. “Just a little, but nice try.”
If she was trying to make him feel better...
She extended her arm. “Let me help you up.”
He took her hand and found himself standing so close to her he could feel her breath on his neck. Her eyes locked on his. Her pink, delicious-looking lips parted.
Oh, yeah. He wanted a taste. A nibble would do.
If he angled his head slightly, he could kiss—
A bark cut through the air.
Bailey took a step back. “The dog.”
Justin glanced around to see a flash of brown trotting away from them along the sidewalk. Not too fast, but a catch-me-if-you-can pace.
Bailey’s nose crinkled. Concern filled her gaze.
Justin had a feeling he would regret this, but what the hell. Anything he had to do could wait until later. “Want to go after the dog?”
* * *
Bailey waited outside the coffee shop for Justin to return in his truck. Her stomach twisted like a glass-blown piece gone wrong. A part of her wanted him to take his time, except she wanted to find the dog. But she needed to cool herself down. Heat continued to burn her cheeks. She must look like one of Titian’s blushing virgins.
How embarrassing. She’d thought Justin was going to kiss her when he stood up. Worse, she’d wanted him to kiss her. This was becoming more complicated by the second, and she wasn’t the type for complications. Life was hard enough. She should say goodbye and not see him until their next meeting about the inn.
And she would.
After they found the dog.
Bailey scanned the street for a glimpse of the stray. Tourists packed the sidewalk, but no sign of the pup who needed food, water, medical treatment and to know someone cared.
She did.
If only her foot wasn’t hurt, she could have run after the dog instead of being forced to wait for a ride. But she’d been standing too long this morning, and her entire leg ached. She sat on a nearby bench.
Glong. Glong. D-ding-a-ting-glong.
The bells chimed on her cell phone. She glanced at the screen. “Hey, Grandma.”
“Hello, dear.” The sound of waves could be heard in the background. “I’m in Long Beach. Do you need a ride home from Tyler’s office?”
“I’m good.” Justin would probably offer to drive her home after they found the dog. “Don’t rush back for me.”
“Okay, I’ll bring lunch by later. I baked brownies this morning.”
“Yum. My favorite. Thanks.” Her grandmother loved cooking for her family, especially her grandkids. “But I’m going to gain five pounds if you keep feeding me so much.”
“Men like women with curves.”
Did Justin? The thought flashed in Bailey’s brain. She shouldn’t care, but the more time she spent with him, the more she did.
A large black pickup stopped at the light caught her attention. Justin sat in the driver’s seat, looking like a cross between a CEO and a cowboy. Her pulse stuttered. A totally inappropriate response when not seeing him again was her smartest move.
She rose, swung her purse onto her shoulder and walked toward the curb. “I’ve got to go, Grandma. Justin is here.”
“Who’s Justin?”
No. No. No. Bailey cringed. Had she really mentioned a man’s name to her grandmother? She hadn’t opened a can of worms; she’d released a vat of them.
“Bailey? Are you there?”
She swallowed around the lump in her throat, wishing she could have a do-over. “I’m here.”
“Is Justin your new beau?”
The hope filling Grandma’s voice sliced into Bailey’s heart with scalpel-like precision. Having her grandchildren marry had become Lilah Cole’s driving goal since AJ fell in love with nanny Emma Markwell last August. A big, billionaire-worthy wedding was in the works and that delighted Grandma. At least her matchmaking was subtler than Risa’s, but Bailey wouldn’t be surprised if the two were in cahoots, along with her great-aunt Ida Mae.
Bailey knew she had to say something, but as little as possible. “I hardly know the guy. He’s the one who wants to tear down the Broughton Inn.”
“Then why is he picking you up?”
At least she had a good reason. “We’re looking for a stray dog.”
“Is that a sex term?”
Bailey stiffened. “Grandma.”
“What?”
“We’re looking for a brown dog, covered in dirt and malnourished. Most likely a stray.”
“Oh.” Grandma sounded disappointed. Hard to believe the woman would be eighty-one in August. She acted much younger. “I suppose it’s easier to keep your enemies close if they’re good-looking.”
“Have you met him?”
“No, but he’s staying at Ida Mae’s B and B. She said he was handsome.”
Bailey was not going to discuss Justin’s looks with her grandmother. Bad enough her great-aunt Ida Mae had mentioned him.
“Don’t keep your young man waiting,” Grandma added.
“He’s not...” Bailey blew out a puff of air. Best not to go there when the truck was pulling up to the curb. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Justin jumped out of his truck and held open the passenger door. “Need a hand?”
“Thanks, but I’m fine.” She climbed up using her good leg, but sensed him right behind her in case she fell. “It’s okay.”
“I’ll move once you’re buckled in.”
“You don’t have to play big brother to me.”
“Trust me, my feelings for you aren’t brotherly.”
Her heart stumbled. He might not be her Mr. Right, but she was still female. Of course he could mean the exact opposite of what she was hoping—no, thinking. “Does that mean you’re taking the term ‘enemy’ to heart?”
“I didn’t say that.”
But she didn’t want to think of the alternative—that he might find her attractive. Something, maybe even desire, flashed in his eyes, as if he was imagining her naked and liking what he saw, made her feel pretty and wanted, and totally not in control of the situation.
The man was not only trouble, but also dangerous. The hair on the back of her neck stiffened, each one screaming to get the hell away from him. And she would. Once they found the dog.
* * *
Justin couldn’t believe they’d spent an hour and a half driving around town with no dog to show for it. Not even a glimpse of dirty fur. He pulled into Bailey’s driveway behind her car, the bee with tires.
“I’ll keep my eyes out for the dog,” he said.
“Thanks. I really thought we’d be able to track him down. I’ll let Grady know so he can contact Animal Control. They take the animals they find to the local shelter.” She yawned.
“Tired?”
“A little.”
More like a lot. He turned off the ignition. “You haven’t said much.”
“I’m worried about the dog. And this is my first time out of the house since I went to the doctor. I’m not used to being vertical this long.”
“Then let’s get you inside.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I know that, but if you fall, guess who’ll get the blame? Don’t you think being known as the man who wants to destroy the inn and got put into his place by Bailey Cole is enough infamy for one week?”
Her smile brightened her face. So pretty, though her look that other morning at the inn was endearing in hindsight. “People are saying that?”
“I might be exaggerating, but I don’t want your brothers blaming me if you fall.”
She reached up and touched Justin’s cheek, surprising him, but in a good way. “Oh, that would be bad. They’d mess up your nice face.”
His chest swelled. “You like my face?”
Bailey jerked her hand away. Her shock widened his smile.
“I’m speaking as an artist.” She looked everywhere but at him. “Your features are aesthetically pleasing and fit well together.”
“You must have a good memory since you’re not looking at me.”
Her Mona Lisa smile hit him hard in the gut. He wished he could taste those lips. He grinned at the thought of doing just that.
She opened the front door. “What’s so funny?”
He didn’t dare tell her about wanting to kiss her on the sidewalk earlier. Not unless he wanted her to slam the door in his face. “This is the last place I expected to be again. Not that I mind. Your company is better than Kent’s. The guy reads judicial briefs for entertainment.”
Bailey stepped inside. He followed, closing the door behind him. “Kent’s going to think you’ve gone missing.”
“I texted him.”
“Does he know you’re with me?”
“I left that part out. Self-preservation.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a line I’d use with my family.”
“Don’t forget I have sisters. Paige routinely goes ballistic over less, but in this case she’d be firing words faster than bullets fly at a SWAT team’s target practice.”
“We have something in common.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Maybe I am.” Bailey plopped onto the couch, resting her foot on a coffee table with designs burned into the wood and painted bright colors. “We’re...different.”
“Not really. We just happen to be on different sides with the inn.” Justin hadn’t noticed the decorative table when he was here the last time. He touched one of the etch marks. “I like this.”
“Bought the table at a garage sale for five dollars. A few doodles, wood-burning and paint...good as new.”
Her modesty was endearing, but misplaced. “I’d say better than new. You could make an entire line of refurbished tables like this one and sell them for a shabby chic fortune.”
“Listen to you.” She held a pillow on her lap. “Tough guy resort developer talking shabby chic.”
“We furnish every place I build or renovate.” He pulled an overstuffed patchwork ottoman over and sat. “My sister might be the interior designer, but I know a thing or two about style. I also know you’re a painter, but you have talent for furniture, too.”
“Thank you,” she said. “We’re even for compliments.”
He tugged off the sandal from her good foot. She hadn’t asked, but his helping her felt strangely natural. “But I can hear in your voice that you’re not interested in starting a business.”
“It’s not that. I sell what I make all the time, but I like to choose what I work on unless someone commissions a piece. I’d rather not be locked into making tables or anything else.”
“Free-spirited.”
“Sometimes. Other times not. Truth is, I’d let orders wait if I was inspired to work on a painting. I’d let everything wait, actually, which makes me wonder—”
Justin’s hands still held her good foot. His fingers longed to rub her skin, soothe any sore muscles. He let go of her foot. “If you want to run the inn?”
Bailey frowned. “The inn has a staff to run it. I’m talking about, well...life. I’m different from my sister-in-law, whose life is her family. She volunteers, works out, cleans, cooks and gets mani-pedis. She’s very happy, but I’m...”
“You worry whether you want a husband and family.”
“No. Not at all. I worry I won’t be good at it. That I’ll put my art before everyone else, and then need to stop working altogether because I can’t figure out how to balance the two.”
The emotion behind her words startled him. He didn’t understand her trusting him with something so personal when he was supposed to be the enemy, the rival for the Broughton Inn, the guy she stopped by standing in front of his wrecking ball. Or why he had the urge to move to scoop her into his arms and tell her she could handle marriage and a family.
He needed to get a hold of himself. She was a stranger, not his friend. But he’d tried the marriage route and failed. Maybe he could help her.
“Trust me, Bailey. Being a good wife has nothing to do with whether you work or stay home. It’s difficult, no matter who you are. So is being a good husband. But you care about people and that’s what matters.” Reassurance came naturally, because the words were based on his experience. “That’s my ounce of wisdom for the day.”
“More like sixteen ounces of good advice.” Gratitude filled her voice and her eyes.
He wouldn’t swear an oath, but he glimpsed what might have been a tear. For the first time in a long while, he felt like a hero. Which made no sense, because he’d done absolutely nothing to earn the title, and had no right to give advice, given his divorce. “Do you want a glass of water or something to drink?”
“I could use some ibuprofen and water.” She looked relieved at the change of subject. Well, join the club. He wasn’t sure why the topic had come up. “The pills are in a white bottle on the counter. The glasses are in the upper cabinet right off the sink.”
“Be right back.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Bailey’s kitchen was like her—unique and comfortable. The Dutch-blue walls complemented the white cabinets with fused glass handles. Colorful pottery sat on top of the kitchen cabinets. Small seascape canvas paintings hung on the walls. The area was neat and tidy, except for two coffee cups in the sink. She must have had company this morning. Who?
He took a closer look and noticed lipstick stains. Not a guy. Then he remembered she’d said family members had been taking care of her. Her sister? Bailey talked more about her brothers.
Justin filled a glass with water and grabbed the pills. He stepped into the living room. “I’ve got your...”
Bailey’s eyes were closed, a soft smile on her slightly parted lips. He took a step back. Okay, three.
Beautiful, yes. He’d been surrounded by attractive women his entire life. Hell, Taryn was gorgeous. But something about seeing Bailey like this took her appeal to a new level.
Her expression wasn’t vulnerable. Nothing about her was needy, but at that moment, all he wanted to do was take care of her. Not in a caveman type of way. She was the last woman who needed protecting, with such a strong independent personality and surrounded by family as she was. But he wanted to make sure she had everything she needed and was...happy.
Happy.
Crazy and illogical, given the inn. He’d better get out of here before Paige found out. But first he wanted to do something.
Justin placed pills on the table and set the glass on a coaster. He covered her with an afghan from the back of a rocking chair. She didn’t stir.
Okay, now he could leave. But a part of him wanted to stay to make sure she didn’t wake up and need something.
He glanced around the living room. Seascapes with lighthouses. Landscapes with mountains. Photographs in hand-painted frames hung on the walls and sat on shelves, a glass jar full of painted rocks on one corner of the mantel, a bowl with seashells on the other and a colorful flowerpot with colorful, swirly lollipops sticking out on the windowsill near the front door.
Easy access for visiting kids, old and young?
He took a closer look at the photographs. One with Bailey and another woman on the beach caught his eye. The two resembled each other—her sister, Camden?—but their looks were the only similarity. Bailey was the image of femininity in a blowing skirt, tank top and no shoes. The other woman wore rubber waders held up with suspenders and a cap worn backward on her head. Bailey was the image of Mother Earth, while the woman next to her defined tomboy. He recognized Ellis and Grady in several of the pictures. The other men must be her brothers. Not identical facial features, but you could tell they were related. The lengths and shades of brown hair varied, but their heights only slightly so. He moved onto the next photograph, then another and another, making his way around the living room.
A slight knock sounded; then the front doorknob turned.
He’d closed the door, but hadn’t turned the lock.
A short, white-haired woman entered, then closed the door. He’d seen her picture on the wall. She wore a green tracksuit and carried two bags. Her eyes widened. “Well, hello.” She didn’t look worried or surprised.
“Hi.”
A welcoming smile deepened the wrinkles on her face. “You must be Justin.”
How did she know his name? “Yes, I’m Justin McMillian.” He motioned to Bailey on the couch. “She fell asleep.”
“Doing too much too soon. Did you find the dog?”
“No.”
“She’ll be worried about that.”
“I plan to keep looking.”
“That’ll make Bailey happy. Place a report with Animal Control so they’re on the lookout, too. That’ll impress her.” The elderly woman walked into the room, her excitement visibly bubbling over. “I brought lunch. There’s plenty for you, too.”
So, what if he was supposed to meet Kent for lunch? Justin would rather stay here with a sleeping Bailey and her surprise visitor.
“By the way, I’m Lilah Cole, Bailey’s grandmother.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Cole.”
She shuddered. “Lilah, please. Mrs. Cole makes me think of my mother-in-law. Those aren’t fond memories.” She handed him one of the bags. “Come in the kitchen. I need help with lunch and while we work, you can tell me about yourself.”
He stared at the bag in his hand. He could guess where Bailey got her strong personality. He had no idea what she would say to his hanging out with her grandmother, but he had a feeling Lilah would be nothing but smiles. That was good enough for Justin. Maybe helping Lilah prepare lunch would earn him some points with Bailey. He could use them. “What do you want to know?”