Aria wrapped the camera cord around her wrist and strolled onto the Lakeview property, now owned by Lockwood Holdings Limited. It didn’t have a driveway yet, and, courtesy of a long, hot summer, the grass was more brown than green. Technically, she wasn’t allowed to be here, but, she’d reasoned, it couldn’t hurt to pop over for a few minutes to take some photos. Maybe she could superimpose the concept plan of the shopping complex over a photo of the empty lot. Great photography equaled more attention to her article and, hopefully, a promotion. The response to her first article had been crazy. Whether people agreed with it or not, everyone had an opinion.
Flipping her sunglasses over her eyes to shield them from the sun, Aria looked down on Itirangi. Sometimes she wondered if it wouldn’t benefit from an upgrade—a few more modern amenities. At the moment, the newer buildings stood out like scars on the landscape, while many of the older buildings were in need of painting, with tussocks in the gardens and scrub that grew unchecked. There was a certain wilderness about Itirangi. Aria thought it was beautiful. And, considering the booming tourist trade, she wasn’t alone in her view.
She pondered her next story. She needed to provide the public with more details about the development. She’d done her research and now she was here, searching for inspiration. Wandering around the edge of the property, she snapped photos of the yard, then walked to the highest point and stood on tiptoes. She gazed out toward the lake, over the cottages with overrun lawns and the boutique shops in hundred-year-old buildings. The shimmering lake lapped at the shore. Behind the mass of water, mountains towered brown and green, blending into the horizon. It dazzled her. No wonder someone wanted to build in this spot. They would make a killing.
A sparrow swooped into a tree, and she shot a picture of it mid-flight. Perfect. She was certain one of these photos would be exactly what she needed to liven up her article. While tucking the camera away, she heard a scuffle. Peering over her shoulder, she jumped when she saw a man standing a few yards away. She took a quick step backwards and trod on a stick which rolled under her foot. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she landed on her bottom. Dammit! She cursed her clumsiness, a trait it seemed she’d never grow out of. Her butt throbbed. She looked up to introduce herself. And up. And up.
The man loomed over her. He pushed a hand through brown hair tipped with gold, his sky-blue eyes wide in disbelief which slowly turned to disdain as he peered down the length of his perfectly placed nose at her. His full lips pursed, exaggerating a cupid’s bow. Five o’clock shadow dusted his cheeks, and his black coat and silk tie were impeccable. The dark colors complimented his golden skin. She couldn’t help staring.
Who was he?
No one dressed like this in Itirangi. Even the businessmen wore casual clothes. Jeans and shirts. This man came from another world. A god among mere mortals, gorgeous enough to drive god-fearing women to sin.
Elijah wasn’t sure whether to be angry at having his peaceful night interrupted or intrigued by the woman at his feet. She had been standing tall at the end of the paddock, like a queen surveying her domain. Except, up close, she was less of a queen and more… Well, odd. Wearing an absurdly fluffy pink jersey with purple leggings, she’d presented her well-formed behind to him as he’d approached unnoticed. Now, she was sitting in the dirt with her hair falling over her face, peering up at him. How bizarre.
He felt a brief flash of sympathy, but it was tempered by annoyance. It had been a long day, and he’d had enough. Not a people-person at the best of times, when he was tired, he preferred to be alone.
Reluctantly, he reached down to help her up. She laid a small, warm hand in his. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” she replied, her cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink. “Thanks.”
She flicked her long dark hair as she straightened, the curls corkscrewing over her shoulders. Several inches shorter than he, she squinted up into his face, wrinkling her small, upturned nose. Her eyes were brown with flecks of green that flared as she held his gaze. The woman was prettier than he had imagined based on the outlandish outfit.
“What were you doing?” he asked.
“Taking photos.” She gestured helplessly at the camera that was still on the ground where she’d fallen. She knelt to pick it up, her leggings tightening over her butt.
“There are better viewpoints of the lake,” he told her. This was a nice spot, to be sure. That was why he’d bought it. But there were plenty of nice lookouts much easier to access near the lakefront.
“I know that,” she replied indignantly. “I’m a local.”
Eli raised an eyebrow. She looked vaguely familiar. “Then, why the camera?”
She glanced away. “I’m doing some research for an article. I work for the paper.”
“Look at me.”
She started at his sudden command, and her eyes went to his. He jolted in recognition. She was the journalist who’d written that blasphemous article, without a doubt. What the hell was she doing here?
“Did you know this is private land?” he asked, willing to give her the benefit of the doubt this once.
“I know,” she admitted with an impish smile. “You won’t tell on me, will you?”
He looked up at the sky, jaw clenched. Did she have another awful article in the works? What had he done to deserve this? He tugged on a handful of hair and lowered his gaze back to her. “Tell who, Miss Simons?” he asked. “You’ve already told on yourself. I’m Elijah Lockwood. This is my property.”
“How do you know my name?” she demanded. Then she paled. “Lockwood?” She seemed to pull herself together and stuck out a hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Aria Simons.”
“I know,” he said impatiently. “You’re the journalist who’s trying to ruin me.”
Her jaw dropped. “I’m not trying to ruin you. I don’t know why you’d think that.”
“Your bleeding-heart article in yesterday’s paper. It wasn’t exactly open-minded.”
“It wasn’t untrue, either,” she said, eyeing the exit as if she were considering making a run for it. “I presented one side of the argument. Not the only side.”
Eli wanted to rail at her. Could he not get a break? His day had been long enough without adding reporters to the mix.
“You’ll print a retraction in tomorrow’s paper,” he said firmly.
The reporter bristled. Her spine straightened, and her eyes gleamed. “I’m working on a series of articles, Mr. Lockwood, and there’s a lot riding on it.” He snorted derisively, and her eyes flashed before she continued, “I’ll write about every aspect of this development, but I’ll do it in my own time, and I’ll certainly not print a retraction. I’m not ashamed of my work.”
He scowled and crossed his arms. “Suit yourself. There are other ways to fix the problems you’ve made.”
“Look.” When she took hold of his arm, her nearness overwhelmed him. His palms started sweating, and he tucked them more firmly into the crooks of his elbows. Did she not understand personal boundaries? “I haven’t been trying to make problems for you,” she said. “I’m only doing my job. Your development is big news around here. We’re a small community, so you shouldn’t have expected anything else.”
Eli supposed she was right. She had a job to do, and so did he. Clearly, she wasn’t going to be as cooperative as he’d hoped. Not that he should have expected anything else. The media hadn’t treated him kindly in the past. Never mind. He’d find another way.
Eli’s gaze wandered down her body. She was slim but rounded in all the right places, and her body was nicely displayed by the tight, bright clothes. His fingers tingled with the desire to touch her, even as her touch on his arm unsettled him. Though her job offended him, he couldn’t deny that her body appealed to him on a visceral level.
“I don’t know much about small towns,” he drawled. “But I do know business, and I’ve made this town my business. You’d better get used to having me around.”
Aria didn’t like men who thought they could get their way simply because they were rich and powerful—and, okay, ridiculously good-looking. They ticked her off. Her fingers curled tighter into his arm.
He spoke again, his voice no more than a rumble. “You know you’re still on my property, right?”
Dropping her hand, she reeled backwards. What a beast. She’d only wanted to have a look around and get out of there. It was hardly worth kicking up such a fuss about.
“I’m leaving,” she said curtly. “I shouldn’t have come. I didn’t realize it would upset anyone.”
Elijah Lockwood shrugged one perfectly clad shoulder. “I don’t like reporters. Especially nosy ones. Trouble always follows them.” He pulled a card from his coat pocket and pressed it into her palm. At his touch, jitters shot up her arm. Had a spark passed between them? Static electricity? She flinched away, unwilling to analyze the moment further. “If you have any questions about my development, call this number. Get your information firsthand.”
Aria nodded, then brushed past him. Elijah Lockwood, CEO of Lockwood Holdings Limited.
Pity. He was such a good-looking brute.
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