She's the One (Lowcountry Lovers Series Book 2) (3 page)

B
oy, could the woman eat. Savannah ordered off of the dinner menu while Melissa chatted about girl stuff she’d need to know about the area. Where to get her nails done. Shopping. The ‘must sees’ in Charleston and the Lowcountry, in general.

“Of course, I’ll have meetings with the folks at the hospital and then the gala for the children’s wing just before I go home. But until then...” She pulled a moleskin tablet out of her bag, slipped the fat, red rubber band off of it, and went down a long list of things she wanted to do, all of them listed alphabetically beginning with touring the Aiken-Rhett house in Charleston. Okay, so she was as anal as she claimed. “Paddle boarding. South Carolina Aquarium. USS Yorktown-Naval Museum. Waterfront Park.” She slipped the rubber band back on the moleskin. “That about covers it, but I feel like I’m missing something.”

“Sounds to me like you’ve got a full four weeks ahead of you, maybe you should consider staying a little longer if you want to see and do everything on your list.”

Savannah glanced down at her tablet. Was she fighting back tears?

“Yes. Well, it helps to stay busy.” After three years, she’d either been through a hell of a divorce or she’d lost a hell of a man. Maybe both.

O
kay, so Shane was going to be late. After he bowed down and kissed Melissa’s feet, he needed to prove he wasn’t whipped, that he wasn’t so far gone over this woman, he was letting his business slide. So, he’d hightailed it over to Johns Island to check on a jobsite, and now he was paying for it.

The turning bridge between Mt. Pleasant and Sullivans Island was twisted open and a sailboat was moving like the water in the Inter Coastal had been replaced with peanut butter. Yeah, Melissa Bliss was making him lose his ever loving mind.

He’d met her six months ago at a wedding, after she’d just bought her first house on the island. A rundown little cottage on the corner of 30th and Cameron Boulevard, and she was full of DIY questions. Being a contractor at a party is a lot like being a doctor, minus the blood and guts. Everybody wanted free advice. Usually, Shane avoided those conversations; but damned if he didn’t answer every question the woman had and then hoped she’d ask him more. They’d laughed and talked and danced until the caterers started packing up.

It was such a cliché, asking to take the bridesmaid home, to her home. Not that Shane had thought he was going to get laid. Okay, he and Melissa had had such a good time together; he might have just a little bit. But to his surprise, she’d said no. A little tipsy, she’d called a cab. Ouch. Okay, message received loud and clear.

He tried to get Melissa out of his head, but that wasn’t happening. He dated a lot of women. Worked too much. Played too much golf. And every time she called for professional advice or a favor, whether he wanted to or not, he was inexplicably there, with whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it.

The bridge finally cleared, but Shane wasn’t going to risk a speeding ticket to get there.
Breathe man. Get a grip.
Soon he was turning down Palm Boulevard headed toward 42nd street, officially three minutes late. It would be ten by the time he got there, and he was
never
late.

He pulled into the driveway of a beautiful, teal-colored home with a wraparound porch. A man and a woman stood in the driveway, dressed in what could have passed matching black suits. Their arms were crossed, and Melissa was there trying to work her charm on them. Even without meeting them, Shane knew their type, and just to prove he was right, the man looked at his watch and glared in Shane’s direction.

Before he could apologize, Melissa dragged him over to meet the happy couple, her thousand-watt smile smoothing everything over. She introduced Holden and Ruth Gladstone to Shane, they didn’t seem very impressed him and the feeling was mutual.

“We’d like to change the facade,” Ruth said coolly, “give it more of a Cape Cod look.”

“Why don’t you just buy a house on Cape Cod,” Shane said, barely loud enough for Melissa to hear. She discreetly elbowed him in the gut, and began educating the couple on the classic Charleston architecture.

“It would be a shame to lose the authenticity of this house, but if that’s what you want, Shane’s your man,” Melissa drawled.

Shane didn’t want this job. He’d rather stick a fork in his eye than change anything about this house.

“And what about you?” The dude actually lowered his glasses and eyed Shane. “Are you on board?”

“I want to assure you, Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone,” Melissa said, “I’ll be with you every step of the way.” She pulled out the heavy artillery, shades off, big green, sincere eyes that could convince someone to elect Ted Bundy for president if she wanted to. His brain was screaming at him to tell this couple what they could do with their Cape Cod façade.

But he knew how important it was to Melissa. Aw hell.

“Sure, I can do it, but I agree with Melissa; the house is perfect as it is.” That got him a
just wait till I get you in the truck
look. “The only thing it doesn’t have is a pool, and with the concrete per square feet restrictions in the building code, you couldn’t put one in ground. But you could build an above ground one off the back deck. Make it infinity edge if you want. With the killer view it would be impressive, if that’s what you’re going for.”

Gladstone nodded his head. Of course that was what he was going for, and the stupid thing was, the house was already impressive. “Show us.”

They walked around to the back of the house that overlooked a pristine white stretch of Atlantic beach. Shane explained the process and the approximate costs involved. Fifteen minutes later, both New Yorkers were nodding their heads.

“So you’ll do the work?” Ruth asked Shane.

“I don’t build pools, but I can recommend a couple of builders who do exceptional work.”

“What would it cost to put the new façade on?” Holden asked.

Shane hated to even picture removing the teal stucco and replacing it with cedar shake, then there was the finish work, changing out some of the windows to fit the architectural style. “It’s a guess, not a firm estimate, but I’m thinking six hundred grand, give or take a hundred thousand dollars.

“And how much for the pool?” Ruth asked.

“If you go that route, I’d say, fifty grand or so for the pool, but I’d spend a lot on the decking. Put in a nice entertainment area, a wet bar. The house has a small outdoor kitchen, if you’re going all out, I’d say make it bigger. You’re looking at a hundred and fifty, two hundred thousand tops.”

“I want full disclosure now or we’re walking.” Holden turned on Melissa. “What’s wrong with this house?”

“Nothing,” she stammered, “it’s perfect.”

“It doesn’t make any sense. You said this guy was the best contractor you know, yet he turns down a big job, proposes a smaller one, only to give it away to someone else? You’re
our
realtor. You’re supposed to represent our best interest as well as your sellers’.” The man coiled a little tighter with every word.

Melissa looked like she was going to cry, and for once, she was speechless.

“Whoa, now. We’re all grownups here, Holden,” Shane said. “I promise you there’s absolutely nothing wrong with this house and I’ll sign something to that effect, if you want. I helped design and build this place. I know every inch of it, so I’d rather not take your money and see it remain the same with the right enhancements than take the job and change it when I know you probably won’t be satisfied with the end result.”

“What makes you think you can possibly know whether or not we’d be happy?” Ruth sniped.

Now there’s a loaded question
. “You’re not the first couple to come down to the Lowcountry and throw around a lot of money. Walk down the beach. You’ll see beautiful house after house that maintains the architectural integrity of the island. You’ll also see occasional clunkers; maybe something that looks like it belongs in Hilton Head, or even a Frank Lloyd Wright wannabe.”

Melissa had him by the shirtsleeve, yanking hard, but he’d had enough of this bullshit. He didn’t mind people coming here to get in on a good thing, and he couldn’t blame them for not wanting to leave. Hell, a couple of years out of college, he’d done the same thing, and nothing could make him go back to Missouri.

Melissa hissed his name. He raked his hand over has face and tried to sound less pissed off. “You look at this house and see a price tag, maybe a great view. I look at this house and remember the details, what it meant to the couple who built it. Maybe if I needed the job, I’d take it, but I’d have to need it awfully bad to tear this place apart and make this house look like something in fucking Massachusetts.”

“
Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone
,” Melissa was almost hyperventilating. “I apologize for Shane and I—”

Ruth and Holden looked at each other and nodded. Apparently, Shane had spoken a language they’d understood. “Get your pool contractor over here. We’d like the work done before we come down for the summer. The guy shook Melissa’s hand, and the couple got in their high-end rental car and drove away.

She was trembling when she got in the truck. Shane knew the house was listed at just over five million dollars and a sale like that would mean more than a three hundred thousand dollar commission for her since she also had the listing. He also knew she’d sunk everything she had into Island Bliss and she needed the cushion a sale like that would bring.

“I’m sorry,” Shane said. “I just lost it, and I—”

She caught him off guard, but her lips landed on his in a long, wet kiss.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He’d waited six damn months for that kiss and it wasn’t nearly enough. He threaded his fingers in her long, blond curls and pulled her into him. This time, the kiss was longer, slower, the way he wanted to make love to her
. Jesus, where had that come from?
They were still sharing the same air when she sat up abruptly like she’d read his mind. She tried to wipe the kiss away, but her face was flush with wanting.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he said, “that was a great thank-you, but I just let a half-million dollars walk.” His body still hummed from a simple kiss, heart hammering out of his chest. Hell, there was nothing simple about it. “Three dates would be a better thank-you.”

“I already thanked you
improperly
, Shane. Just let it go at that.” She buckled her seatbelt and stared straight ahead, flustered and beautiful, refusing to look at him.

Aw, to hell with it all. He was done pretending he wasn’t so far gone over this woman it was ridiculous. Had been since the day they’d met. “By the end of the second date, if you can look me in the eye and tell me you don’t feel this thing we have, I’ll let you out of the last one.”

M
elissa’s heart was beating out of her chest, while Shane started the truck like nothing had happened. But that kiss had rocked her down to the soles of her Kate Spade sandals. He must have sensed her bewilderment and he was showing no mercy—silence. To make things worse, the island was busy, lots of tourist and pedestrians crossing the street to get a jump on their weekend beachcombing. Of course, Shane had to stop for every stinking one of them. They trailed across the road like a desert caravan with their beach carts and their coolers and three hundred little children in tow.

“Turn here and take Back Bay to avoid the traffic.” There, she sounded all business like again, didn’t she? Maybe a little breathy. Oh, this was not good.

He raised his shades. “I like this drive.”
More time with you
was implied. And to top it off, he looked at her with that stupid, gorgeous smirk that said too much.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” The last person moseyed across the road and waived at Shane, and he started down Palm Boulevard again towards Island Bliss.

“Stop looking at me.”

“Can’t do that.”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“I’m not going to let you go,” Shane said as he pulled into the parking lot.

He was doing his best to exasperate her, but she refused to give him that. “The oyster roast and coffee. That’s it.”