Playing the Playboy (7 page)

Sex with Andrew had been great, and he seemed like a pretty good guy, but neither of those truths was most important.

Nothing had really changed, despite how strange she felt this morning. Andrew was still a Damon, and the Damons wanted her out of this inn.

Deciding she needed more ammunition to give herself proper perspective, she pulled up an internet search engine and typed in Andrew’s name. One of the first entries was the site she wanted.

She’d found it a few weeks ago when she was trying to prepare for the Damon ambush and doing as much research as she could on the family.

It was a rather creepy kind of fansite for Andrew Damon. The webmistress collected and linked every article and reference to Andrew posted online. Laurel scanned through the most recent links. Most were to gossip sites, reporting Andrew’s romantic conquests.

He didn’t appear to indulge in one-night stands very often. Rather, he was more like a serial-dater, going out with one woman for several weeks before he moved on and found someone else.

Laurel could see exactly how it might happen. Even knowing his history as commitment-phobe, there was something about Andrew’s way with a woman that made her feel like she was the most beautiful, special woman in the world. There was something warm and intimate in his eyes, in his expression, in his touch that could easily fool a woman into believing he was serious, that he could really fall for her in a way he hadn’t with all those other women.

If Laurel were less experienced and cynical, she might believe such a thing herself after last night.

He wasn’t an arrogant, selfish asshole who used women without thought for their feelings. He’d been too considerate for her to believe that. He’d gone out of his way to please her.

But he’d never really had to commit to anything in his life, and he wasn’t likely to start now.

It was just his way.

The internet search helped. Reminded her of who she was, who he was, and what she needed to do.

She felt more like herself when she went down to the kitchen and found Agatha pushing out bread dough on the counter.

“What’s the matter?” Laurel asked, when her friendly greeting was answered with a wordless grunt.

“Bad sunrise,” Agatha said, nodding out the window where the sun was rising behind the clouds in weird streaks of gray and purple.

“What does that mean?”

“Bad times coming. He needs to leave.”

Laurel sighed. “I know.”

She was worried as she picked up a basket and went out to the kitchen garden to pick tomatoes.

The dogs came out with her, and they jumped up eagerly a few minutes later when they saw Andrew approaching.

He must have stopped by his room to throw on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, but he clearly hadn’t showered or shaved.

Laurel felt her heart pounding as he knelt down to greet the dogs, grinning and talking to them as if they could understand him.

She wished he had showered. His hair was still messy, and he looked too rumpled, too relaxed—his big, lean body inexplicably irresistible in the domestic context.

She tried to focus on picking the cherry tomatoes, taking much more time than necessary to choose the ripest ones and delicately pull them from the vine.

“Good morning,” she said, trying to sound casual as she felt him approaching.

“You’ve got to learn to sleep in,” he said, a smile in his voice. “Being so industrious so early in the morning is just wrong.”

She wanted to laugh at the dry tone, but she felt too stiff, too uncomfortable.

Then it was worse. He came over until he was directly behind her and wrapped his arms around her, gently pulling her back against him.

His body was wonderfully warm, and his arms were strong and masculine. He smelled the way he had last night, and it did dangerous things to her senses.

But he was still a threat to everything she loved.

“Good morning,” he said in a thick, intimate tone, leaning his head down to mouth the side of her neck.

Her breath hitched in involuntary pleasure, but she managed not to lean back against his chest.

With great willpower, she even tilted her head away from his mouth.

He grew still for just a moment, and she could almost feel him scrutinizing her response. “Uh oh. That can’t be good.”

She swallowed and gently pulled out of the circle of his arms, turning around to face him. Why couldn’t he act like a playboy was supposed to act and slip away the next morning with as little fuss as possible? “I just don’t think this is a good idea.”

“It felt pretty good last night.”

She couldn’t tell if he was as casual as he sounded, and she didn’t like that she couldn’t read him very well. He’d seemed fairly simple and straightforward before—a spoiled womanizer who was used to getting whatever he wanted.

He didn’t seem as simple anymore.

“It was good. Obviously. But, with the way things are, I don’t think we should do it again.”

“I think we can manage to keep the sex separate from business. I thought that was our understanding.”

“It was. But I’m not comfortable with it. It wasn’t like this could last very long anyway.”

“Right,” Andrew said with a half-smile, as if he were vaguely amused by her earnest explanation. “It’s too bad. I think we could have a few really good days.”

“Yeah.” At least he wasn’t angry or insulting. If he could think and talk about sex as casually as that, then more power to him. And if it bothered her that she obviously had responded more strongly to their time together than he had, then that was silly and shouldn’t be indulged.

She liked to think she could just take or leave sex in the same way he did, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t.

And she wasn’t going to risk her future and everything she loved for another round of sex with Andrew, no matter how good it would be.

Andrew wasn’t used to women saying no to him, and he didn’t like it at all.

Laurel asked if he wanted breakfast, in what was an obvious attempt to return their interaction to non-personal ground. He accepted, since he was hungry and didn’t want her to think he was offended about her rejecting his advances.

He wasn’t offended. He was frustrated and a little annoyed.

Sex with Laurel was the best sex he’d had in recent memory, and it seemed ridiculous not to enjoy it for as long as they could. He’d never been much on pressuring women, however—he’d never been in the position to need to, but it wasn’t really his nature. So he resigned himself to no more sex and managed to be friendly and natural as he chatted with her over yogurt and freshly baked bread with honey.

The sight of her reminded him of how it had felt to touch her last night, how it had felt when she’d touched him. He really wanted to do it again.

After he’d taken a shower and gotten dressed, he put the thought out of his mind. He had to take care of the situation with this inn, and the quicker it was resolved the better. So he called his uncle and explained the idea he’d had yesterday and the plan he’d put together to carry it out.

“I don’t know,” Damon said, after Andrew had made a clear and convincing case. “We’re not in the habit of rewarding people who try to cheat us.”

“I’m telling you, she’s not intentionally trying to cheat us. She believes the inn belongs to her and that Grayson gave it to her legally and fairly.”

“Even so.”

“She’s invested a lot in this inn—her time, work, and money.  I’m not at all comfortable leaving her with nothing to show for it when what happened wasn’t her fault. It doesn’t feel honorable.” He added the last sentence because he knew his uncle well, and that was what would sway him the most.

“You’re sure you’re reading this woman correctly? I imagine she’s an attractive woman, and I can understand if you—”

“I’m not a teenager. I’m not letting my hormones think for me. I’ve done all the research and investigation, and this is the best course of action. I know how to read people. I’ve always been better at it than Harrison. She believes the inn is legally hers, and everything she’s done has been based on that. She’s not playing an angle here. She’s a victim as much as we are.”

“Very well. Make her the offer you outlined. When she accepts, start the process of getting her moved out and doing the renovations you think necessary. You’ll need to stay to hire the management, and then they can deal with hiring the rest of the staff.”

“There’s a couple who have worked here for seven years. They live on the premises and take care of most of the housekeeping and upkeep.”

“Surely one couple can’t do all the work necessary to make an inn of that size run.”

“They hire day help in the high season, but the inn is this couple’s home, and I was thinking of keeping them on, since they know the ins and outs better than anyone else.”

He could almost hear his uncle shaking his head. “Andrew, we can’t go around picking up strays. This is business.”

“I know it’s business. I don’t think it’s a bad business decision.”

After a moment of hesitation, Damon said, “Well, you’re responsible for oversight there. You make the decision. But I’ll want to see a detailed accounting for all the staff decisions you make and why they’re financially appropriate. You can see some examples of how Harrison handled similar situations if you need any help.”

Andrew tightened his lips but didn’t respond to the comment. He knew very well that, in his uncle’s mind, he was poor seconds to Harrison. His brother ate and breathed this stuff. Andrew hated it. The idea of turning Agatha and Hector into monetary values on a spreadsheet made him rather sick.

But this was his life. This was his family. Business was what they did.

He finished up the conversation and then spent two hours working out a report and spreadsheet with his recommended plan for the inn and all of the necessary justification. He had to call up one of their corporate accountants in order to work out some of the details. Then he had a two-hour-long conversation with one of the contract lawyers at Damon Enterprises to draw up the contract they would offer Laurel as settlement.

When it was done, he sent the contract to his uncle, who signed off on it. It was after noon before he was able to print it up, put it in a folder, and go out to find Laurel.

He found her pressure washing the walls of one of the smaller guest buildings. She wasn’t using a commercial size machine—just a small one for household use—but it was cleaning grime from the whitewashed walls very effectively. He must have surprised her since she jumped and almost sprayed him with the hose when she realized he was there.

Quickly jumping out of the way of the spray, Andrew grinned at her. She really was amazing. He’d never have dreamed a trophy wife would get up before dawn every morning to cook and work in the garden, walk her German Shepherds miles every day, or do the pressure washing herself.

He wondered if she ever sat still. Other than her topless sunbathing in the evenings.

He shouldn’t have thought of that. The image of her luscious, naked body was not good for maintaining a clear, focused mind. Particularly since she’d decided that sex was now off the table.

She stared at him in confusion, since he hadn’t managed to say anything yet.

“Sorry,” he said, shaking himself out of his reverie. “Shouldn’t you let Hector do that?”

She frowned. “Hector has other work to do. What did you need?”

“I was wondering if we could set up a meeting with your lawyer.”

Laurel had turned off the hose, but her hand was still on the trigger, as if she was ready to get right back to work as soon as he’d said whatever he had to say. “Why?”

“We have an offer for you.”

“What offer?” Her expression had been impersonal before, but now it grew cool, almost suspicious.

Surely she didn’t still think he was going to cheat her or take advantage of her. She must know he wasn’t that kind of man. “It’s a good offer,” he said. “I have a contract here. We can go over it with your lawyer.” He was quite sure her lawyer wouldn’t do her much good, but he’d make sure she understood everything and knew she was being treated fairly.

Her frown deepened. “What kind of contract do you have to offer me? I’m not sure you’re in any position to offer me anything, since the inn is mine.”

Andrew tensed with frustration when he saw her shoulders stiffen defensively and her chin swing up in what looked like defiance. He’d been hoping she wouldn’t be difficult, since they’d been getting along pretty well.

“Perhaps you can reserve judgment until you actually see the offer.” He tried to keep his voice light, not wanting to get in an argument.

“I’m not going to set up a meeting with my lawyer until you tell me what you’re going to offer me.”

“Since we understand you acted on a sincere belief that the inn belongs to you, we’re willing to compensate you for what you’ve invested in it over the years. It’s a very generous amount.”

“You’re going to compensate me?”

“It’s very generous,” he repeated, starting to feel nervous about her reaction. He’d assumed anyone in her position, anyone with any sense, would jump at such generous terms, when the only other option was to lose a court battle. “You’d be able to do whatever you wanted—even stay on the island, if you want.”

“You’re going to pay me for the privilege of losing an inn that rightfully belongs to me.”

“Laurel,” Andrew began, doing his best to keep his tone mild, “it doesn’t belong to you. If we take it to court, they’ll find in our favor. This saves us all the time and hassle and allows you to live comfortably as you set up a new home, wherever you like.”

She stared at him in silence. He saw her body getting tighter, and her face shut down, as if she were suppressing her response. “
This
is my home,” she gritted out, turning around and aiming the hose at the wall again.

Andrew experienced a flare of anger at her obstinacy and at how his very generous arrangement had been tossed back in his face without even being seriously considered. What the hell did the woman expect? Did she think they would all just lie down for her to walk all over them?

She’d raised both arms to aim the hose at the wall, the sound of the forceful rush of water breaking the quiet.

“Laurel,” he said loudly. If they were going to argue, he wanted to actually have the argument. He hated when people just walked away or turned their backs on him, as if he didn’t deserve the respect of their attention. “Laurel!”

She ignored him completely, aiming the hose higher to reach the top part of the wall.

“Laurel,” he said one more time.

No response. Her hair had been clipped up but was starting to slip down in a messy fall around her neck. Her slim arms were bare, and her motion highlighted the slender, graceful muscles of her shoulders and biceps. Her firm, rounded ass gave him inappropriate thoughts, which just made him even angrier.

Determined that she wasn’t going to ignore him when he was standing right behind her, he took the three steps over and touched one of her arms to get her attention. “Laurel, would you listen to me?”

She gave a startled squeal and whirled around. It was a mistake.

The pressure washing hose moved with her as she turned. The hard spray hit him square in the chest, as powerful as a blow from such close range.

He grunted at the startling impact and stumbled back involuntarily as he processed the sensation of being hit and then the discomfort of being soaking wet.

“Damn it, Andrew!” Laurel yelled, dropping the hose like it was a snake.  “What are you doing?”

He stared down at himself, trying to figure out if he was hurt or if it was just the shock. Pressure washers could definitely be dangerous. This one wasn’t strong enough to really hurt him, he finally realized, but his t-shirt and shorts were completely soaked, and he still felt jarred and breathless.

He rubbed water from his face, annoyance rising up stronger than ever now that he realized he wasn’t injured. “What am
I
doing?” he demanded roughly. “I wasn’t the one who was ignoring my attempts to talk and then squealing like I was being attacked.”

“You grabbed me,” she gasped, her eyes wide and face paler than it should be. “You startled me. Why the hell weren’t you more careful?”

“Why wasn’t
I
more careful? You’re the one who hit me with that thing.”

He felt like an idiot, sopping wet and still rather stunned, which did nothing to settle his indignation.

“You shouldn’t have scared me like that. I didn’t do it on purpose.” She walked over to him quickly and took fistfuls of his wet shirt in an attempt to pull it up. “Are you okay?”

He yanked himself out of her grip. “I’m fine.” While he wouldn’t object to her touching him, he certainly didn’t want it in this mood and with him in such a foolish situation. “Don’t.”

“Let me look,” she insisted, yanking his t-shirt up to look at his bare chest. “People have serious accidents with those things.”

He’d always been comfortable in his own skin, and there was no reason for him to feel self-conscious now, since he’d just had sex with this woman the night before. But he did. He didn’t want her peering at his chest, which was redder than it should have been. He didn’t want her this close to him.

She had brought him nothing but trouble and, at the moment, he wanted her as far away from him as possible.

“Not from such a small machine,” he said, stepping back from her again. “The water wasn’t even that hot.”

“But, Andrew,” she began, reaching out for him again, “let me at least—”

“Enough!” The word snapped out, in a tone he rarely used. “Enough. Let it be.”

She stared at him with huge brown eyes, looking breathless and momentarily shaken.

Andrew now felt like a brute and a fool, so he muttered something about changing clothes and just left.

The sex was the only good thing to have come from this trip, and now he wanted the whole thing over.

He’d never—
never
—felt like such an idiot in so many ways before Laurel had entered his life.                                                                                                                                                                                                             

***

Laurel had really messed up.

She tried to go back to washing the walls of the lower-level guestrooms, but her arms were trembling and she just couldn’t do it. She turned off the pressure washer completely and stared down at the trigger.

She was shaky, confused, and disoriented, and she couldn’t figure out what to do now. She couldn’t believe Andrew had thought she would accept money to give up the inn—an inn that belonged to her. She couldn’t believe he’d been so smugly confident that he could buy her off so easily.

She should have reacted better, however. She should have been able to suppress her instinctive outrage and put on an appropriately winsome demeanor. Instead, she’d shown her resentment. She’d prompted an argument when it was strategically the worst thing she could do.