She was here.
Matt stepped back from the front door sidelight as Vienna pulled into a parking space in front of the B&B. Scanned the foyer for any dust balls or missed evidence of yesterday’s plumbing disaster. Sniffed the air for any lingering stench. Angled toward the mirror to verify his hair was behaving and his shirt was tucked in.
Everything was copacetic.
He was as ready as he could be to continue the effort he’d launched at church this morning to correct yesterday’s bad impression.
Taking a deep breath, he returned to the door and pulled it open as she approached the entrance.
Her step faltered. “Were you watching for me?”
“Guilty as charged.” He called up the teasing smile he hadn’t used in a very long while. “I’m a desperate man, and after our last encounter here, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d bailed.”
“I said I’d come, and I always honor my promises. But the fog slowed me down. Again. Sorry to keep you waiting.” Shaking her head, she picked up her pace. “Fighting the fog coming down from Bandon for church was the pits, but twice in one day is too much.”
“I hear you. I’m no fan of fog myself, even though I should be used to it after living in San Francisco.”
“Have you lived there long?”
“A number of years.” To avert a follow-up question, he opened the door wide and motioned her in. “Would you like to sit on the terrace while we talk, now that the sun’s back out?”
“Sure.”
He led the way toward the rear of the house, but she halted as the wall of windows in the great room came into view.
“Wow.” She gave the scene a slow sweep. “What a stunning vista.”
“Yes, it is. It’s a huge asset for the B&B. The interior? Not so much, as you’ll see on the tour.” He continued across the room, opened a sliding glass door, and ushered her onto the terrace. “Can I offer you a beverage?”
“No, thanks. I ODed on OJ at breakfast.” She chose a seat at the patio table that offered a panoramic view of the beach beyond a low dune draped in ground cover.
As she gave the unobstructed stretch of sand a slow perusal, she also gave him an unobstructed view of her flawless profile—delicate jaw, full lips, classic cheekbones, thick fringe of lashes, oh-so-soft-looking hair. The kind a man’s fingers could—
“I don’t know the extent of your infrastructure problems, but you couldn’t improve on the setting. And the seclusion would be a huge selling point for couples.”
Her comment jerked him back to the moment, and he cleared his throat. “Yes, it would.” He pulled out the chair beside hers, moving it a few inches farther away as a disconcerting buzz in his nerve endings and a hovering sense of danger activated every defensive reflex in his body. “It reminds me of a place my wife and I visited on our honeymoon.”
As that personal tidbit slipped out, he furrowed his brow.
Why had he mentioned Dana to this woman, who was almost a stranger?
Whatever the reason, his comment appeared to have surprised her as much as it did him.
In addition, for the briefest moment before she called up a smile that came across as a bit forced, an emotion that looked like disappointment flickered in her eyes. As if she was sad to hear he was taken.
But he had to be mistaken. They were barely acquainted. Why would she care about his marital status—especially after the impression he’d made on her yesterday?
“You should stress that in your marketing.”
Hard as he tried, he couldn’t remember what they’d been talking about.
As if sensing his dilemma, she spoke again. “This place is secluded. It would be a fabulous honeymoon destination. You could suggest that in your marketing copy.”
He fumbled for the sunglasses in his pocket. They were missing. Naturally. “I would, if we had any marketing copy.”
“What about the website?”
“It’s outdated and misleading. Have you had a chance to read it?”
“I gave it a fast skim the day I was trying to find accommodations closer to town.”
“Did you notice the reviews?”
“I didn’t read them, but I saw lots of stars, and the pullout quotes are impressive.”
“They’re also old. After I arrived, I dug into other review sites. All the recent comments are thumbs-down.”
Her forehead crinkled. “That’s a major concern. No matter the product, online reviews are a go-to source for potential customers.”
“I know.”
She folded her hands on the table. “If this is none of my business, feel free to tell me, but may I ask why your sister bought the place, knowing how difficult it would be to overcome bad reviews?”
He leaned back, crossed an ankle over a knee, and watched two seagulls cavort offshore as he carefully composed a reply that didn’t paint Kay in too bad of a light. “My sister is a wonderful person who thinks the best of people and tends to be too trusting. After her husband died a year ago, she decided to start over in a new place. Beachview B&B was it. Suffice it to say, she sometimes sees the world through rose-colored glasses and leaps before she looks. In this case, she didn’t do enough due diligence.”
“I can only imagine how disappointed she must be if she walked in expecting a guest-ready inn. I’m sorry.”
“I think she’s beginning to feel the same way. I know she’s overwhelmed by the challenges.”
“How did you enter the picture?”
“I came up here expecting R&R for a month while she went to help a friend in Boise who’s having surgery. When I arrived and realized she had a mess on her hands, I offered to help her try to straighten it out.”
A flicker of admiration . . . approval . . . warmth . . . sparked in Vienna’s eyes. “I’m impressed. I doubt most brothers would be that magnanimous.”
The two seagulls dipped low overhead and settled down in a flutter of wings on the dune beyond the paved terrace as he pondered how much more to tell her. His uncharacteristic earlier lapse aside, he wasn’t the type to run off at the mouth about personal issues to friends, let alone new acquaintances.
But if Vienna was willing to offer them her expertise, didn’t he owe her a few insights into who she was helping?
Yeah, he did.
He linked his fingers over his stomach. “I can’t speak for most brothers, but our history has made us extra close. By the time I was nine, we’d lost both of our parents. Kay was only eighteen, but she took on the job of raising me. She gave up college, worked two waitressing jobs, played the role of both mom and dad. Tag-teaming it with the B&B was a no-brainer. I could never in a million years repay her for all the sacrifices she made for me.”
“She sounds like a remarkable, selfless woman. I can see why you’d come to her rescue.”
“I’m not certain how much rescuing I can do. I should be able to find a contractor to handle physical repairs, but the well of funds is only so deep. And I don’t have a clue how to fix a negative image.”
Vienna tapped a finger on the arm of her chair. “Changing an image is a huge challenge in this digital age. Most stuff never disappears from the internet. You can delete content, but often pieces of it have been cloned or copied and lurk in places you don’t control. Any reference to Beachview B&B will always surface in a search, including bad reviews.”
Not the news he wanted to hear.
“In other words, we’re hosed.” May as well be blunt. Why dance around what appeared to be a looming disaster?
“Not necessarily.” She tipped her head. “Did Mom tell you I worked for a boutique hotel chain?”
“Yes. But nothing more.”
“I was on the team that evaluated prospective acquisitions. My job was primarily numbers related, but since my MBA had a double concentration—finance and marketing—I also got involved in promotion and advertising. Many of the properties we identified had problems that had hurt their business, bad reviews being a major one. But if we thought we could fix the issues and turn the place around, we’d make an offer. Also, it wasn’t a chain in the usual sense. We searched for small inns that met our criteria for size, location, and growth potential, and then created a distinctive identity for each.”
Matt stared at her.
How in the world had he and Kay lucked out and had a woman like this drop out of the sky into their backyard? With an MBA, no less.
Wait until he gave his sister this news tonight.
Still digesting Vienna’s credentials and obvious savvy, he began formulating questions. “How do you turn an inn around if the bad reviews stay out there forever?”
“At my company, we took it out of service, fixed the problems, created a new image for the property, and changed the name.”
A name change.
Of course!
“I have to admit it never occurred to us to change the name. Which is a sad commentary on our expertise in this industry.”
“When you’re dealing with a major dilemma, it can be easy to overlook the simplest and most obvious answer. We tend to assume that complicated problems require complicated solutions.” Her mouth flexed, drawing his attention.
Not appropriate.
Yet fixing his attention on her blue irises, with their glints of gold, wasn’t any less distracting.
But where else could he look without suggesting to her that he was bored or uninterested?
“I suppose that’s true.” He scooted his chair back a few more inches on the pretext of eluding a persistent bee. “In hindsight, a new name seems like an obvious remedy.”
“I’m not suggesting you go that route yet, though. I’m just tossing it out as a possibility to consider. I want to do more online research, take the tour with your contractor to get a feel for the inside, talk to you or your sister about your vision for this place and the type of guest you want to attract.”
“I have a feeling she’ll like your idea about making this a couples destination.”
“How do you think she feels about the current name?”
“As far as I know, she’s not married to it. She hadn’t intended to change it, because the plan was to build on the customer base and favorable image that was out there. But now that she has neither, I’m sure she’d be open to other names. What do you think of the name?”
“The alliteration is clever, and it’s descriptive of this”—she waved a hand over the scene in front of them—“but it doesn’t have any magic. Nor does it suggest a couples destination, which is what I’d aim for with this property. If I was branding this location with that in mind, Beachview B&B wouldn’t cut it. You’d need a name with whimsy and romance. Something that suggests fantasy and dreams and fairy tales and happily-ever-afters.”
He gaped at her.
Ask him to diagnose a colicky cat? Done. Create an ambiance imbued with whimsy and romance? Not happening.
“That’s a tall order for someone like me. I’m not skilled at wordsmithing. And I doubt Kay would factor all the appropriate nuances into that sort of decision either. Do you have any ideas in mind?”
“Not off the top of my head. When we renamed properties, it was a weeks-long process involving tons of research, focus groups, surveys, and brainstorming meetings with the team.”
Wow.
This was light years out of his league.
“We don’t have unlimited weeks. Or a team. And I wouldn’t know where to start with focus groups and surveys.”
“For a standalone property, I don’t think all of those are essential. I just wanted you to know that a great deal of thought went into a rebranding program with my former employer. I’m confident the three of us can settle on an appropriate name, assuming we go that route.”
“I’m glad you are.”
“Hey.” She leaned forward, erasing the distance between them to rest her hands on the table, one on top of the other. “Don’t panic. We’ll figure out a plan.”
Maybe about the B&B.
But panic nevertheless bubbled up inside him as he studied her graceful fingers. Panic that had nothing to do with Kay’s predicament and everything to do with the woman sharing this secluded terrace with him.
Because it would be easy to pull in his chair and link his fingers on the table, close enough to hers for the heat radiating from her skin to seep into his pores like the warmth of her encouraging smile was infiltrating his defenses. To let the light of her presence brighten the dark corners of his heart.
So easy.
But physical proximity couldn’t bridge the chasm between them. A solitary life was his lot. He deserved nothing more. Romance wasn’t in the cards for him.
Not now.
Not ever.
“I appreciate the pep talk.” He left his chair where it was while he filled his lungs and forced himself to make eye contact.
As their gazes tangled—and locked—Vienna’s breath hitched and her lips parted ever so slightly. With fingers that didn’t appear any too steady, she tucked a breeze-tossed lock of hair behind her ear.
His pulse began to thunder.
What was going on here?
How was he supposed to—
Ding-dong.
It took a second for the ring of the doorbell to register, but the instant it did, he vaulted to his feet. “That must be the contractor.” His voice rasped.
She gave a slow blink. “Yes. I guess so.”
“I’ll be back in a minute.”
He pivoted and escaped as fast as he could, questions tumbling through his mind as he put as much distance between him and his visitor as possible.
Was she as blindsided by the electrical storm that had just swept across the terrace as he was?
Was she also as much off balance?
Or had she even felt the potent wattage arcing between them?
Potent on his end, anyway.
The answers to his questions eluded him. Maybe he’d misread her reaction. Maybe she’d simply been thrown off guard by his intense scrutiny. Perhaps been uncomfortable with it.
But it wasn’t hard to make an educated guess about what had sparked the sizzle on his end.
Loneliness, pure and simple.
After all the desolate months filled with nightmares and insomnia and guilt and recriminations and grief, his empty heart craved love like a parched, drooping plant longs for water.
But Vienna Price was here to help him fix the B&B, not mend his heart. Period. He couldn’t let himself forget that.
Nor could he let personal feelings deter him in his mission to help Kay get out of the corner she’d painted herself into.
So he’d work with Vienna on a professional level with the B&B, but he wouldn’t venture into personal territory with her.
No matter how tempted he might be to cross that line.