Unexpectedly You (5 page)

Chapter Five

Much later that same evening, inside his trailer with the rain hammering overhead, Mitch poured his fourth shot of Cuervo. The liquor was doing a hell of a job of helping him forget how he’d fucked up. The likelihood of his project getting the final go-ahead was near zero.

Like the bad Mexican food he’d eaten tonight, Emma’s threat to shut him down came back up to haunt him.

But he had an ace in the hole he hadn’t even known he possessed. Though Tim Brooks did mention an upcoming foreclosure property, he hadn’t specified it was Emma’s home. Mitch had figured it out from the map coordinates Tim had provided. Tim knew Mitch would be interested in expanding the lots he already owned. And, in exchange, Tim would be happy to erase the bad debt off his balance sheet. A win-win. Except for Emma LeFleur.

“Damn,” he said, taking another swig of tequila sans the glass.

He hadn’t really thought about buying her property. Even he knew bulldozing one of the oldest homes in town wouldn’t endear him to his neighbors. He was already suffering from bad PR. It sure as hell didn’t help being labeled a greedy developer out to foreclose on frail, old ladies on the six o’clock news. Not that Emma was old or frail. Because of her fashion sense and her stubborn streak, he often forgot she was only a few years older than him.

In all seriousness, he hadn’t actually thought Emma was at risk of losing her home. He’d just assumed, since she was so entrenched in the community, that she would find the financing to pay off her balloon payment. Until he’d seen her reaction and realized she was in serious trouble. That was pure, raw fear reflected in her eyes.

So Emma was in a serious bind, was she? He would have felt sorry for her if it wasn’t for the aggrieved look on his men’s faces as he hinted at layoffs this afternoon. So, no, he had no empathy for Emma LeFleur. His empathy flushed clear out of his system.

On the contrary, he’d have to figure out a way to capitalize on his newfound information. He’d have to turn it into his advantage. When he was done with her, she’d be begging him for mercy. Damn straight. She’d know better than to get in his way again. He took another healthy swig of tequila and then squirmed as the peppery heat scorched his throat. Goddamn woman. He’d put those luscious lips of hers to good use by making her eat her friggin’ words about the kind of man he was.

* * *

Mitch was half-asleep when a knock on the door jolted him. He squinted at his watch and blinked. It was close to midnight. He must have passed out cold. The last thing he remembered was turning on the television to watch a sitcom rerun.

The incessant knocking on the trailer door intensified. He unfolded slowly to a sitting position and cradled his throbbing head in his hands. He ached everywhere from his awkward position on the couch. He took a whiff of his stink and cringed. His shirt was damp from sweat and clung to his back. The television provided the only illumination, so he stumbled his way to the kitchen to flip on the light and check the thermostat. It was hotter than the fucking desert in July.

More knocking. Whoever it was could not take a hint.

He cursed under his breath before dragging himself to the living area and wrenching open the trailer’s storm door. The cold blast of air smacked him in the face. He couldn’t fathom anything worse than seeing his brother on the other side of the door, pissed as hell because Mitch hadn’t returned any of his anxious voice mails.

He was wrong.

Seeing Emma LeFleur standing outside barely visible under her hooded raincoat was way worse.

“I’d turn the hell around if I were you,” he growled before shutting the door in her face.

“Wait. We have to talk. Please let me in,” she pleaded. Again she knocked, harder this time.

The clamor ricocheted in his head. “What do you want now? You want to bury a hatchet in my head?” He stared at the closed door with disgust. He couldn’t tell if she’d left because the diamond-shaped peep window on the door was still wrapped in heavy-duty plastic.

Her knocking turned fierce. She had to be using her boot.

The absolute last person he needed to see right now was this woman, but he knew unless he let her in, she wouldn’t stop knocking. And his head was about to explode.

“You have two minutes,” he warned as he held the door open for her to come in.

She entered hesitantly. Her eyes widened when she surveyed his state of undress and her cheeks turned a rosy pink. Was she was blushing or was it the temperature?

“Clock’s ticking,” he reminded her.

She unzipped her raincoat, and he rolled his eyes. Apparently, the woman couldn’t take the hint she wasn’t welcome. She’d changed from the conservative suit she had on earlier to casual jeans and a long-sleeved green turtleneck. Her voluminous hair was under a knit cap until she pulled that off too, freeing a mass of curls around her face.

He turned his back before he noticed anything else and headed toward the kitchen, where he ceremoniously yanked open several empty cupboards, looking for God knew what. The least Nestor could have done was include some bottled water to go with the bottle of tequila he’d left behind. The pain behind his eyes was like a piston drilling into his skull.

She cleared her throat. “Mitch, I think we need to talk.”

The sound of his name on her lips stopped him cold. He turned his head and regarded her through the haze of his tequila buzz. “Did you just call me Mitch? I didn’t realize we were on a first-name basis. Imagine that. What else don’t I know about us?”

Her lips pursed and her eyes took in the half-empty bottle of tequila. “You’re drunk.”

“No shit.”

Her eyes focused on his chest. “Can you put a shirt on? I have something important to talk to you about.”

“Why? Seeing my chest makes you nervous? Or does it turn you on?” He grinned even though the effort hurt his jaw. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it registered he liked that she was affected by his near nakedness.

“I just don’t want you to get the wrong impression about why I’m here.”

Like that would happen.

“Why
are
you here at this hour? Usually, if a woman knocks on my door at this time, it’s for a booty call.” He reveled in pushing her buttons. Maybe she’d get the hint and leave.

“Do you have any coffee?” Her cheeks were blood red.

He rubbed his jaw in frustration. “You’re not staying long enough for coffee.”

Her nose flared. “It reeks like a fraternity room in here, and you’re obviously drunk.”

“So what if I am? Don’t I deserve to be drunk, considering you’ve managed to shut me down? Congratulations, you finally got your way and in the process eight men will very likely lose their jobs.”

She had the decency to avert her gaze. “I didn’t know about the news story. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t know. Yeah, right,” he muttered. He let his gaze skim over her five-foot-seven frame, covered from head-to-toe without an inch of skin exposed. “Who are you kidding anyway? I bet you’ve never seen the inside of a fraternity room.” He gave up on finding water. Instead, he grabbed the bottle of tequila and headed over to the living room, where he plunked down on the stiff sofa and stretched his legs out in front of him. He swigged a mouthful of liquor and winced as the heat seared his throat and warmed his gut. The peppery taste left a tingle on his tongue.

She sighed loudly, her expression not hiding her repugnance. “We can’t talk if you can’t focus,” she said before shrugging out of her coat and stalking over to the kitchen to look through the same cupboards he had.

He watched her long, lean body reach up to a cabinet he’d missed above the sink, her sweater stretched tight across her breasts and inched away from the waistband of her jeans. He’d never seen her without an oversized jacket or coat hiding her body.

He blinked hard to bring her into focus.

I’ll be damned.

He now knew two things about Emma he hadn’t known before. One, beneath the unsexy mom jeans hid a tramp stamp Paris Hilton would envy. And two, Emma LeFleur was stacked. International House of Pancakes stacked. How had he missed that before?

He felt an unwelcome twitch behind his fly and cursed under his breath. He obviously hadn’t drunk enough if he was having a sexual reaction to Emma.

She smiled smugly when she found a stack of paper cups, a container of instant coffee and some sugar packets.

He watched her quick, jerky movements. He’d bet it had been a long time since she was around a half-naked man in a small, intimate setting. His three-hundred-square-foot mobile trailer was slightly larger than a hotel suite, with a front living area, a kitchen/dining combination he’d turned into his makeshift office and the queen bedroom he could see from where he lounged.

“Here.” She handed him the cup of coffee and then visibly flinched when his fingers brushed up against hers. She made sure to grab the bottle of tequila before heading back to the kitchen.

He should probably get up and offer her the only place to sit in the cramped living area, but he wasn’t in the mood to be hospitable. So he remained sprawled on the couch, studying her face amid the steam rising from his cup. For the first time, he noticed her eyes were red and swollen. She’d obviously been crying. “Well, I’m listening.”

She stood awkwardly a few feet away. “I’m sorry about the ugly scene here today with the neighbors. I didn’t know they had plans to protest. I wasn’t even around town today.”

“I believe that like I believe you weren’t responsible for calling in the local news cavalry,” he added sarcastically.

Again, she averted her gaze. “It’s the truth. You can believe it or not. I don’t really care. I didn’t have anything to do with calling the media today.”

“You mean to tell me you haven’t been calling the local news station to do a story on my project and how I’m out to destroy Bella Del Mar?”

“That’s not what I said. I said I didn’t call them today.”

He grunted. “You’re a real piece of work. Why don’t you say what you came here to say and then get the hell out? Otherwise, I might just give in to the urge to throttle some sense into you.”

She took a step back closer to the door. “I didn’t know David was going to recommend postponing your hearing. All I asked was for him to review the plans you’d submitted to see whether or not you’d save the dog park like you’d promised us during the last citizen task force meeting. I didn’t think he’d go as far as all that.”

Her selfishness and myopic stubbornness grated on his nerves. “So you’re telling me your little intimate lunch with Bruin wasn’t to plan your next move? Because let me tell you, you sure looked pretty cozy together.”

She watched him, her eyes wide with what he hoped was distress. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Well, you must have been irresistible, because it’s not just Bruin. We’ve had people coming out of the woodwork today. You’ve got the entire town up in arms. And calling in the media—” he smacked his fingers to his lips, “—I have to give it to you, that was brilliant. The sweet cherry on top.”

“The neighbors must have seen the equipment everywhere, and one thing led to another. For the record, you said you’d keep the dog park.”

Mitch rolled his eyes. “I said there would be a dog park. I never said where it would be located.”

“Well, we’re not savvy enough to understand your double-talk. We like plain English. You said you’d keep it, and we assumed you meant the existing grounds.”

“It doesn’t matter now, does it? Thanks to you, the whole town hates me and my project is as good as dead.”

Emma sighed, and he was momentarily distracted by the rise and fall of her chest. “You’re exaggerating. They don’t hate you, exactly. They just hate that you reneged on your promise. You don’t know what the Planning Board will decide.”

He raised his brow. “Yeah, maybe they’ll decide to give it their seal of approval and throw me a ticker tape parade.”

“Maybe they will. Maybe if the neighbors had a change of heart about you, David and the Planning Board would be more understanding and lenient. You just have to convince them you have their best interest at heart.”

“Their best interest? And how do you suggest I do that?”

“I can help you.” When he only arched a brow, she continued but kept her gaze from his face. “I know my neighbors. I can help change their minds, and that will influence David to be more open-minded.”

He scowled. “I get it. So that’s how it works around here. I should have known. You snap your fingers, and Mr. Building Official asks how high. It must be sweet to be able to turn on and off the martyr act. I guess it just depends on who’s charming who, right?”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course that’s not what happens. All I’m saying is that I can help you improve your reputation with my neighbors, and potentially that can influence David.”

He eyed her curiously. “David, huh? Okay. I see. So, you’ll call your
friend
David, and he might be enticed to give me a good recommendation with the Planning Board and the mayor.”

It was her turn to frown. “It’s not that simple, but yes. I can try my best with David. But you have some work to do to convince my neighbors about the kind of man you are.”

“That’s awful nice of you, Emma.” His voice was laced with cynicism. “Why would you do that for me?”

Emma’s gaze danced just to the side of his head. She cleared her throat. “Because I’ve decided to accept your offer.” When he raised a brow in question, she continued. “A few months ago you said you would be interested in investing in my business. I didn’t think so then, but now I realize you had a really good point. Both our businesses being so close together, it makes good financial sense to make sure we’re successful.”

Mitch drew his lips back and grinned. “Uh-huh. Now I get it. You’ve thought over my offer and now that you have my balls in your hands, I’d have no choice but to give in to your terms.” He scoffed at the gall of Emma LeFleur. If he didn’t dislike her so much, he’d give her credit for her tenacity.

The color drained from her face. “Look, I’m trying to help you. Why do you have to be such a jerk?”