Granddad's House (On Geneva Shores) (12 page)

But
, oh, the man was incorrigible. And what he had said about her, about their kisses. A win-win indeed. Her face burned thinking about it. How had he guessed what she was thinking? Was it that obvious, that she was panting for him? Was that what he meant about women with ulterior motives? Surely not.

Maybe
boring Ned wasn’t so bad after all. In spite of his preference for greasy fish and chips, and beer that made her sick.
Maybe there was something to be said for blah over exciting to the point of keeping her awake nights. Come to think of it, Ned had never kept her awake.

What kind of mess was she in now? Was Beau really going to call for another dinner? If he did, what would she say? What
should
she say?

How could she show her grandfather that she only had his best interests in mind in looking for another buyer? But did she?

Chapter 7

Olivia waved to Sally, already seated at a table under one of the colorful umbrellas near The Beachcomber, locally famous for its burgers and extra-thick shakes. The July flowers blooming in nearby barrel halves seemed to nod at her as she passed by. Warmer than usual, the day was gorgeous, and it buoyed her mood. That and seeing her oldest and dearest friend again.

“Okay, Livvy. Fill me in on all the latest. Being gone—even for a month—makes me feel like I’m really out of touch. What’s been happening? Obviously, the real estate business is going well and you’re looking fab.” Sally flipped her nearly waist-length brown braid over her shoulder.  “I wish I had curls like you.”

“Don’t. Sometimes I can’t do a thing with them. The other day”—she remembered all too well—“I had to pile my hair on my head so it wouldn’t look like such a mess when I went to work. I’ve always loved your straight hair. I know it’s a lot easier to do things with.” Olivia adjusted the umbrella to avoid the sun’s rays. On days like today, she wished the sun didn’t make her freckle or look like a cooked lobster unless she slathered on the sunblock.

“Enough about you wanting mine and me wanting yours. Like always.” Sally glanced at her. “Been out with any cool guys lately? Or are you still seeing Ned, who can’t make up his mind what he wants to be if he ever grows up?”

Olivia sighed. “I’m supposed to meet him tonight at the Sea Shanty. I hate that place. The music is too loud, the food too greasy, and they serve beer, not what I like to drink. I thought maybe I would just go and tell him good-bye. Now I’m wondering if I should even bother.  Maybe I’ll just leave him a voice mail, or would that be too crass?”

Sally laughed. “He doesn’t deserve anything more personal, if you ask me. The only time he calls you is when he gets home from a trip and wants to jump your bones.”

“Do you have to remind me?”

“Then why do you put up with him? You can do a lot better. How long has it been? A year, longer than that? He’s never going to change. He’s not serious about you or anything else except himself. Why should you be serious about him?”

“You’re probably right.
There was a time when I thought we had something …” He’d been working then. She handed Sally the tube of sunblock. “Could you help me? I don’t dare burn.”

“Sure.” Sally smoothed the lotion on Olivia’s bare shoulders and arms. “Is anyone else on the horizon now that you’re thinking of dumping Ned?”

“Not really.” Her stomach tumbled at the thought of Beau.
I’m not seeing him. I just have to deal with him.
That was different. Except …

“What do you mean, not
really. Either you are or you aren’t.”

“There’s this one guy. But he’s a client. He wrote an offer on Granddad’s house. That’s how I know him. I wouldn’t exactly say that I’m seeing him.”

“What’s he like?”

A little laugh escaped her lips. “Genevieve fans herself every time he enters the office. He’s tall, with dark brown hair, kind of wavy. He has green eyes—sort of like yours—and drives a Mercedes.”

“Really? He must be loaded, and if Genevieve is panting, he must really be something.”

“He’s an architect. Has his own firm. I like his partner at lot.”

“You don’t like him?”

Was her expression giving her away, or
how she’d suddenly taken a quick breath? Olivia squinted at Sally. “We were supposed to go to dinner to discuss the offer, parts of it anyway, but I ate myself sick and drank too much wine and—”

“You don’t drink,
Livvy.”

“Like I said. I thought half a glass would be fine, but I was so nervous. I wasn’t watching what I was doing and before I knew it, I was racing to the lady’s room and lost everything—and I mean everything. It was awful!”

“Where were you?”

“The Salmon House.” She sighed. “The worst possible place for getting sick.”

“Then I guess that’s the last dinner you’ll have with him.”

“Not exactly.” She shaded her eyes against the sun and wiggled her bikini-clad hips in the chair. “He came to the office to go over Granddad’s counter and said we needed to have another dinner—not to discuss business, just between friends.” She felt heat beginning at her toes and wending its way upward.

“Livvy, you’re blushing. You said yes?”

Damn.
“Not exactly. I didn’t answer. I’m not sure what to do—about that.”

Sally poured herself another glass of tea from the thermos and refilled Olivia’s glass. “You like him, don’t you. I can tell. Since when are you so unsure? When you met Ned, it was ‘he’s so stable—he must be the one’ the minute you came home from your first date. Remember when you called me afterward? Now you’re waffling.”

“Oh, Sal. There’s something about this one. I’m not sure why, but he muddles my brain.”
And turns me into melted butter.
She bit her lip. “It’s hard to describe. Besides, he’s a client. Off limits.”

Her mind flitted back to that second kiss and how it had left her body humming. Even more than the first one. There it was again. Very distracting, that humming.

She looked back at Sally. “Okay, I admit it. He’s so sexy he takes my breath away. But he’s impossible, even if he kisses like a dream—”

Her friend’s chuckle preceded a quick sidelong glance. “Hey, I thought you said he was a client. Since when do you make out with clients—and in the middle of a transaction? You’ve never done that before.”

“It was an accident. I ran into him, er bumped into him—literally—and, to coin a phrase, our lips locked.”

“Some accident! Give me a break. That doesn’t just happen,” Sally laughed. “Where did this lip-lock occur? Not in the office for everyone to see, I hope.”

“His condo. He lives in a high-rise overlooking Lake Geneva.”

“Good lord, girl! Those places must cost millions. What were you doing at his place?”

“I couldn’t find my briefcase and figured he had it—after the dinner disaster. So I marched over there to get my stuff back.” She sighed again, not sure why she couldn’t seem to stop doing that. “It was an accident. I mean, it had to be. I certainly wasn’t expecting it and I never planned it. He took me by surprise.” She was going to say more when she looked toward the beach at the sound of children’s laughter and dogs barking.
Who was that walking behind them?
Her flush deepened. “Oh. My. God. Behind those kids. There he is.” She nodded her head in his direction. “Sometimes I hate this town. It’s so small.”

Sally followed her shoulder shrug. “The one with no shirt, great abs and that curvy carrot top? You didn’t tell me he was going with anyone. Are you sure he’s not married?”

“No. But she looks like his secretary. Fiona is her name—she has a very pronounced accent. I think she’s from Ireland.”

“She’s got a very pronounced bod, too.”

Olivia bent her head, covered her eyes with one hand and concentrated on the faux wood-grain of the table. “I don’t even want to think about him. Maybe they’ll just walk on by.”

“No such luck. They’re headed this way.”

“Oh, no,” she groaned. “Tell them I’m asleep.” She closed her eyes, hoping he wouldn’t see her under the umbrella.

“I don’t think that’s going to work. After all, you’re sitting up,
Liv. And he probably saw us talking.”

Chatter that got louder announced the arrival of Beau and Fiona. And then that deep-throated chuckle. “Hello, Olivia. Fancy meeting you here.”

She peeked up at him as he leaned forward to reach for Sally’s hand.

“Hi, I’m Beau. And you are?”

“Sally, best friend of Olivia here. She tells me you’re buying Granddad’s house. It’s really nice, isn’t it?”

He glanced in Olivia’s direction. “That it is, but the transaction isn’t quite completed yet.” His voice oozed that damnable Southern charm.

She shaded her eyes with one hand and glared at him, noticing the shirt slung over one shoulder and the shorts that rode low on his hips and clung to his muscled thighs. His shirt, sodden on the arms, slipped off his shoulder, depositing sand grains onto the table.

“Sorry about that,” he apologized.

As if he hadn’t spoken, Olivia said, “Careful with the sand. We just put on sunblock.”

“Oh, did I get some on you, Olivia? So sorry. Let me brush it off.” And he did. He seemed not to notice that
goosebumps rose from shoulder to elbow where his fingers grazed her skin. “You know Fiona, my secretary. I told her she had to come to the lake today. It was too nice to sit inside. You must agree—since you’re here, too?”

Olivia smiled at Fiona. “Hello. Again.”

“Nice to see you, Ms. Brown.” That Irish lilt again.

“Call her Olivia. That’s what I do.” Beau chuckled before turning away. “Nice to meet you, Sally. Perhaps I’ll see you around.”

When Beau and Fiona had moved far enough away that they could talk without being overheard, Sally whistled under her breath. “Man, if you don’t want him, I’ll take him. And that Southern accent—so cute. Was he putting that on, or is he really from the South?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care. His full name is Beauregard Elias James. Granddad says he probably had a mother from the South who named him after a family member. He did say something to that effect. He caught me by surprise with that, too.”

“Seems to me he’s surprising you all kinds of ways, Livvy. My my my.” Sally reached for the sunblock. “Want to do my back? If you ask me, he beats Ned hands down in the looks department.”

Olivia smoothed the sunblock on her friend’s back.

Sally looked down the beach. “An A-One hunk. Really nice buns, too, Livvy. You didn’t mention that. If he’s interested in you, why in the world are you hanging onto Ned? He couldn’t possibly be more interesting than this guy. Call him and kiss him good-bye. Ned I mean, so you can concentrate on kissing this Beauregard guy hello and come on in!”

“Sally, please.” Olivia frowned.  Reminding herself of her own rules, she said, “He’s a client. I don’t get involved with clients.”

“Ha! Correction—you already are. Didn’t you say you kissed him? In my book, that’s involved. Or have you changed the rules about that sort of thing? If I were you, I’d turn him over to some other realtor so you can get really involved. Like, his-shoes-under-your-bed involved.”

Sally fanned herself. “I just met him and he’s heating me up just imagining what he would be like. Did you see his chest and abs? And the muscles in his arms? He must work out. No man looks that good if he just sits around all day drawing pictures of houses.”

“You’re probably right.” Olivia handed the sunblock to Sally and reached for the sandwich she’d been ignoring.

“Beauregard.” Sally adjusted the umbrella and turned in her seat. “Why is that name so familiar?” She squinted her eyes against the sun. “Oh
my gosh! Livvy. Tell me his name again—the whole thing.”

“Beauregard Elias James. Why do you ask?”

“Now I remember. Last year, or maybe it was longer than that, some beauty queen was all set to marry him—it was going to be the wedding of the year—don’t you remember? It was called off at the last minute. Everybody at the paper was talking about it.”

“No, I don’t.” Olivia’s eyes were closed as she tried to relax. “So he was going to get married and didn’t. What’s the big deal? Lots of men get cold feet.”
Like Ned. Come to think of it, he’d never had warm ones.

“Ah, but
why
was the big deal. The bride was all set to scam his company. His partner found out about it and saved his ass and their business, if I remember right.” Sally’s feet pummeled the sand under the table as she squirmed. “Don’t you ever read the papers, Livvy—not even my articles?”

“Remind me. You know I hardly ever read the Seattle paper.”

“Just a minute. Let me check. I can call it up from my archives. Bobby and I worked on the social part of that story.” Sally slid her fingers back and forth on her smart phone.” Here it is. It says here that your Mister James started his business with his partner using a portion of a considerable trust fund left him following the untimely deaths of his parents, bigwigs in the Atlanta area. Blah blah blah. Who cares about that.” Her fingers scrolled down the screen. “Here we go, the juicy part. It seems Miss Beauty Queen knew about the money and went after him so she could get her hands on it. His partner, a George … hard to read in the sun … Dunston discovered her at the office one day going through the books and talking on the phone to somebody. Anyway, he had her arrested for breaking and entering—she didn’t exactly use the front door to get into the office. That’s when the cops uncovered the plot, all caps, Livvy. She was in it with her ex-husband, now boyfriend. I think they’re both in the slammer now.” Sally slipped her phone into her purse.

“
Livvy? Are you listening?”

Olivia sat with her eyes closed. “Is that the end of the story?” Now her interest was seriously piqued. What he’d said about women with ulterior motives that day in her office. Maybe he hadn’t been thinking of her when he said it. He’d been burned once. Or maybe he believed
she’d
had an ulterior motive and that’s why she’d kissed him back.