Brambleberry Shores

How could she disappoint them?

“We’re at capacity,” she finally said, “but I think we can probably find room to squeeze in one more.”

“You mean it? Really?” The girl looked afraid to hope.

Sage nodded and Chloe squealed with delight and hugged her again. “Yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Sage hugged her in return. “You’re welcome. You’re going to have to work hard and listen to me and the other grown-ups, though.”

“I will. I’ll be super super good.”

Sage glanced up to meet Eben’s gaze and found him watching her with that same odd, slightly thunderstruck expression she had seen him wear earlier that morning. She didn’t fathom it—nor did she quite understand why it made her insides tremble.

“I’m busy with the class out here,” she spoke briskly to hide her reaction, “but if you go inside the center, Amy can provide you with the registration information. Tell her I said we could make an exception this once and add one more camper beyond our usual limit.”

“Thank you, Ms. Benedetto.” One corner of his mouth lifted into a relieved smile and the trembling in her stomach seemed to go into hyperdrive, much like the Harder twins after a little sugar.

Somehow that slight smile made him look even more attractive and her reaction to it alarmed her.

“Amy will give you a list of supplies you will need to provide for Chloe.” Annoyance at herself sharpened her voice. “She’s going to need waterproof boots and a warmer jacket this afternoon when we go out to Haystack, though we can probably scrounge something for her today.”

“Thank you.”

“May I go with the other children?” Chloe asked, her green eyes gleaming with eagerness.

“Sure,” Sage said. She and Eben watched Chloe race to the picnic table and squeeze into a spot between two girls of similar ages, who slid over to make room for her.

She turned back to Eben. “Our class ends at four, whether your conference calls are done or not.”

He sent her a swift look. “I’ll be sure to hang up on my attorneys if they run long. I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting.”

“It’s not me you would be letting down. It’s Chloe.”

His mouth tightened with clear irritation but she watched in fascination as he carefully pushed it away and resumed a polite expression. “Thank you again for accommodating Chloe. I know you’re stretching the rules for her and I do appreciate it.”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned around and walked toward the center. She watched him go, that fast, take-no-prisoners stride eating up the beach.

What a disagreeable man. He ought to have a British accent for all the stuffy reserve in his voice.

She sighed. Too bad he had to be gorgeous. Someone with his uptight personality ought to have the looks to match, tight, thin lips, a honker of a nose, and squinty pale eyes set too close together.

Instead, Eben Spencer had been blessed with stunning green eyes, wavy dark hair and lean, chiseled features.

Didn’t matter, she told herself. In her book, personality mattered far more than looks and by all indications Eben Spencer scored a big fat zero in that department.

“Ms. B, Ms. B.! What’s this one? Lindsey doesn’t know.”

She turned back to the picnic table. She had work to do, she reminded herself sternly. She needed to keep her attention tightly focused on her day camp and the thirteen children in it—not on particularly gorgeous hotel magnates with all the charm of a spiny urchin.

Chapter 3

“Your daughter will just love the day camp.” The bubbly receptionist inside the office delivered a thousand-watt smile out of white teeth in perfect alignment as she handed him the papers.

“It’s one of our most popular summer activities,” she went on. “People come from all over to bring their children to learn about the rocky shore and the kids just eat it up. And our camp director is just wonderful. The children all adore her. Sometimes I think she’s just a big kid herself.”

He raised an eyebrow, his mind on Sage Benedetto, and her honey-blond curls, lush curves and all that blatant sensuality.

“Is that right?” he murmured.

The receptionist either didn’t catch his dry tone or chose to ignore him. He voted for the former.

“You should see her when they’re tide-pooling, in her big old boots and a grin as big as the Haystack. Sage knows everything about the coastal ecosystem. She can identify every creature in a tide pool in an instant and can tell you what they eat, how they reproduce and who their biggest predator might be. She’s just amazing.”

He didn’t want to hear the receptionist gush about Sage Benedetto. He really preferred to know as little about her as possible. He had already spent the morning trying to shake thoughts of her out of his head so he could focus on business.

He smiled politely. “That’s good to hear. I’m relieved Chloe will be in competent hands.”

“Oh, you won’t find better hands anywhere on the coast, I promise,” she assured him.

For a brief second, he had a wickedly inappropriate reaction to that bit of information, but with determined effort, he managed to channel his attention back to the registration papers in front of them.

He quickly read over and signed every document required—just a little more paperwork than he usually faced when purchasing a new hotel.

He didn’t mind the somewhat exorbitant fee or the tacked-on late-registration penalty. If not for Sage and her summer camp, his options would have been severely limited.

He didn’t have high hopes that the agency in Portland would find someone quickly, which would probably mean he would have to cancel the entire trip and abandon the conference calls scheduled for the week or fly in his assistant to keep an eye on Chloe, something neither Chloe nor Betsy would appreciate.

No, Sage Benedetto had quite likely saved a deal that was fiercely important to Spencer Hotels.

He would have liked to surrender Chloe to someone a little more…restrained…but he wasn’t going to quibble.

“All right. She’s all set, registered for the entire week. Now, you know you’re going to need to provide your daughter with a pair of muck boots and rain-gear, right?”

“Ms. Benedetto already informed me of that. I’ll be sure Chloe is equipped with everything she needs tomorrow.”

“Here’s the rest of the list of what you need.”

“Thank you.”

He took it from her with a quick glance at his watch. He was supposed to be talking to his advertising team in New York in twenty minutes and he wasn’t sure he was going to make it.

Outside, steely clouds had begun to gather with the capriciousness of seaside weather. Even with them, the view was stunning, with dramatic sea stacks offshore and a wide sandy beach that seemed to stretch for miles.

He shifted his gaze to the group of children still gathered around the picnic table. Chloe looked as if she had settled right in. As she chattered to one of the other girls, her eyes were bright and happy in a way he hadn’t seen in a long time.

He was vastly relieved, grateful to see her natural energy directed toward something educational and fun instead of toward getting into as much trouble as humanly possible for an eight-year-old girl.

This next few days promised to be difficult with all the new conditions Stanley Wu was imposing on the sale of his hotel. Having a good place for Chloe to go during the day would ease his path considerably.

His attention twisted to the woman standing at the head of the table. In khaki slacks and a navy-blue knit shirt, Sage Benedetto should have looked stern and official. But she was laughing at something one of the children said, her blond curls escaping a loose braid.

With her olive-toned skin and blonde hair, she looked exotic and sensual. Raw desire tightened his gut but he forced himself to ignore it as he walked the short distance to the cluster of children.

Chloe barely looked up when he approached. “I’m leaving,” he told her. “I’ll be back this afternoon to pick you up.”

“Okay. Bye, Daddy,” she chirped, then immediately turned her attention back to the other girls and their activity as if she had already forgotten his presence.

He stood by the table for a moment, feeling awkward and wishing he were better at this whole parenting thing. His love for his daughter was as vast and tumultuous as the ocean and most of the time it scared the hell out of him.

He looked up and found Sage watching him, a warmth in her eyes that hadn’t been there earlier. Sunlight slanted beneath the clouds, turning the hair escaping her braid to a riotous halo of curls around her face.

She looked like something from an old master painting, lush and earthy, and when her features lightened into a smile, lust tightened inside him again.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Spencer. We’ll take good care of Chloe.”

He nodded, angry again at this instinctive reaction to her. The only thing for it was to leave the situation, he decided, to avoid contact with her as much as possible.

“I have no doubts you will. Excuse me. I’ve got to return to work.”

At his abrupt tone, the warmth slid away from her features. “Right. Your empire-building awaits.”

He almost preferred her light mockery to that momentary flicker of warmth. It certainly made it easier for him to keep his inappropriate responses under control.

“I’ll be back for Chloe at four.”

He started to walk away, then paused, feeling churlish and ungrateful. She was doing him a huge favor and he couldn’t return that favor with curt rudeness.

“Uh, thank you again for finding space for her. I appreciate it.”

Her smile was much cooler this time. “I have no doubts you do,” she murmured.

He studied her for a moment, then matched the temperature of his own smile to hers and walked to the nature center’s parking lot where his rented Jaguar waited.

His mind was still on Sage Benedetto as he drove through town, stopping at a crosswalk for a trio of gray-haired shoppers to make their slow way across the road, then two mothers pushing strollers.

He forced himself to curb his impatience as he waited. Even though it was early June, the tourist season on the Oregon Coast seemed to be in full swing, something that boded favorably for someone in the hotel business.

He had learned that the season never really ended here, unlike some other resort areas. There was certainly a high season and a low season but people came to the coast year-round.

In the summer, families came to play in the sand and enjoy the natural beauty; winter brought storm watchers and beachcombers to the wide public beaches.

Though his ultimate destination was his temporary quarters, he automatically slowed as he approached The Sea Urchin. He could see it set back among Sitka spruce and pine: the graceful, elegant architecture, the weathered gray-stone facade, the extravagant flower gardens already blooming with vibrant color.

He wanted it, as he hadn’t coveted anything in a long, long time. In the four months since he had first seen the hotel on a trip down the coast to scout possible property locations, he had become obsessed with owning it.

His original plan had been to build a new hotel somewhere along the coast, possibly farther south in the Newport area.

But the moment he caught sight of The Sea Urchin— and Cannon Beach—the place called to him in a way he couldn’t begin to explain.

He had no idea why it affected him so strongly. He wasn’t one for capricious business moves, heaven knows. In the dozen years since he’d taken over his family company at the ripe age of twenty-four, he had tried to make each decision with a cool head and a sharp eye for the bottom line.

Building a new property made better business sense—everything was custom designed and there were more modern amenities. That would have been a far more lucrative choice for Spencer Hotels and was the option his people had been pushing.

But when he saw The Sea Urchin, with its clean lines and incredible views of the coast, his much-vaunted business acumen seemed to drift away with the tide.

It had been rainy and dismal that February day, a cold, dank wind whistling off the Pacific. He had been calling himself all kinds of fool for coming here in the first place, for packing his schedule so tightly when he was supposed to be leaving for the United Kingdom in only a few days.

But on the recommendation of a local woman, he had driven past The Sea Urchin and seen it silhouetted against the sea, warm, welcoming lights in all the windows, and he had wanted it.

He had never known this sense of rightness before, but somehow he couldn’t shake the odd sense that he could make this small hotel with its twenty guest rooms the glimmering crown jewel of Spencer Hotels.

He sighed and forced himself to drive past the hotel. He might be certain his destiny and The Sea Urchin’s were somehow intertwined, but Stanley and Jade Wu were proving a little harder to convince.

Renewed frustration simmered through him. A week ago, this sale was supposed to be a done deal. All the parties involved had finally agreed on an asking price— a quarter million dollars more than Eben had planned to pay when he and the Wus first discussed the sale in February.

He thought all the legalities had been worked out with his advance team before he flew to Portland. The only thing left was for Stanley and Jade to sign the papers, but they had been putting him off for two days.

He could feel the property slipping through his fingers and for the first time in his business life, he didn’t know how the hell to grab hold of something he wanted.

He understood their ambivalence. They had run The Sea Urchin for thirty-five years, had built it through skill and hard work and shrewd business sense into a stylishly beautiful hotel. Surrendering the family business to a stranger—seeing it folded into the empire Sage Benedetto had mocked with such disdain—could only be difficult for them.

He understood all that, Eben thought again as he pulled into the driveway and climbed out of the car, but his patience was trickling away rapidly.

He fiercely wanted The Sea Urchin and he wasn’t sure how he would cope with his disappointment if the deal fell through. And in the meantime, he still had a company of a hundred hotels to run.

* * *

Oh, she was tired.

Right now the idea of sliding into a hot bath with a good book sounded like a slice of heaven. In the gathering twilight, Sage pedaled home with a steady drizzle soaking her to the skin.

So much for the weather forecasters’ prediction of sunshine for the next three days. Having lived in Oregon for five years now, she ought to know better. The weather was fickle and erratic. She had learned to live with it and even enjoyed it for the most part.

She tried to always be prepared for any eventuality. Of course, this was the day she had forgotten to pack her rain slicker in her bike basket.

She blamed her negligence on her distraction that morning with Eben and Chloe Spencer, though maybe that was only because she was approaching their beach house.

She wiped rain out of her eyes as she passed it. A sleek silver Jaguar was sprawled arrogantly in the driveway.

Of course. What else would she expect?

Against her will, her eyes were drawn to the wide bay window in front. The blinds were open and she thought she saw a dark shadow move around inside before she quickly jerked her attention back to the road.

Wouldn’t it be just like her to have a wipeout right in front of his house, with him watching out the window?

She stubbornly worked to put them both out of her head as she rode the half mile to Brambleberry House. The house came into view as she rounded the last corner and some of her exhaustion faded away in the sweet, welcome comfort of coming home.

She loved this old place with its turrets and gables and graceful old personality, though some of the usual joy she felt returning to it had been missing since Abigail’s death.

As she pedaled into the driveway, Conan barked a halfhearted greeting from the front porch.

Stubborn thing. He should be waiting inside where it was warm and dry. Instead, he insisted on waiting on the front porch—for her or for Anna or for Abigail, she didn’t know. She got the sense Conan kept expecting Abigail to drive her big Buick home any moment now.

Conan loped out into the rain to greet her by the fence and she ached at the sadness in his big eyes. “Let me put my bike away, okay? Then you can tell me about your day while I change into dry clothes.”

She opened the garage door and as she parked her bike, she heard Conan bark again and the sound of a vehicle outside. She glanced out the wide garage door to see Will Garrett’s pickup truck pulling into the driveway.

Rats. She’d forgotten all about their conversation that morning. So much for her dreams of a long soak.

He climbed out into the rain—though he was at least smart enough to wear a Gore-Tex jacket.

“Hi, Will. Anna’s not here yet.”

“I’m sure she’ll be here soon. I’m a little early.”

“I never told her you were coming. I’m sorry, Will. I knew there was something I forgot to do today. I honestly don’t have any idea when she’ll be home.”

The man she had met five years ago when she first moved here would have grinned and teased her about her bubbleheaded moment. But the solemn stranger he had become since the death of his wife and baby girl only nodded. “I can come back later. Not a problem.”

Guilt was a miserable companion on a rainy night. “No. Come in. You’re here, you might as well get started, at least in the empty apartment. Without Anna here, I don’t feel right about taking you into Abigail’s apartment to see what to do there, since it’s her territory now. But I have a key to the second floor. I just need to run up and get it.”

“Better change into something dry while you’re up there. Wouldn’t do for you to catch pneumonia.”

His solemn concern absurdly made her want to cry. She hadn’t had anybody to fuss over her since Abigail’s death.

“I’ll hurry,” she assured him, and dripped her way up the stairs, leaving him behind with Conan.

She returned five minutes later in dry jeans, a sweatshirt and toweled-dry hair. She hurried down the stairs to the second-floor landing, where Will must have climbed with Conan. The two of them sat on the top step and the dog had his chin on Will’s knee.

“Sorry to leave you waiting.” She pulled out a key and fitted it in the keyhole.

Will rose. “Not a problem. Conan’s been telling me about his day.”

“He’s quite the uncanny conversationalist, isn’t he?”

He managed half a smile and followed her into the apartment.

The rooms here, their furnishings blanketed in dust covers, had a vaguely forlorn feeling to them. Unlike the rest of the house, the air was stale and close. Whenever she came in here, Sage thought the apartment seemed to be waiting for something, silly as that seemed.

Abigail had rented the second floor only twice in the five years Sage had lived at Brambleberry House. Each time had been on a temporary basis, the apartment becoming a transitional home for Abigail’s strays for just a few months at a time.

The place should be lived in. It was comfortable and roomy, with three bedrooms, a huge living room and a fairly good-sized kitchen.

The plumbing was in terrible shape and the vinyl tiles in the kitchen and bathroom were peeling and outdated, in definite need of replacement. The appliances and cabinets in the kitchen were ancient, too, and the whole place could use new paint and some repairs to the crumbling lathe and plaster walls.

Despite the battle scars, the apartment had big windows all around that let light throughout the rooms and the living room enjoyed a particularly breathtaking view of the sea. Not as nice as the one from her third-floor apartment, but lovely still.

She wandered to the window now and realized she had a perfect view of Eben and Chloe Spencer’s place, the lights still beating back the darkness.

“Hey Sage, can you come hold the end of the tape measure?”

She jerked out of her reverie and followed his voice to the bathroom. For the next few minutes she assisted while Will studied, measured, measured again and finally jotted figures on his clipboard.

They were in the kitchen when through the open doorway she saw Conan suddenly lift his head from his morose study of the peeling wallpaper. A moment later, she heard the squeak of the front door and reminded herself to add WD-40 to her shopping list.

Conan scrambled up, nosed open the door and galloped for the stairs. A moment later he was back, with Anna not far behind him.

“Hey, Will. I saw your van out front. I didn’t realize you were coming tonight.”

Sage fought down her guilt. She wasn’t the one in the wrong here. Anna had no business arranging all this without talking to her.

“I meant to call you but the day slipped away from me,” she said. “I bumped into Will this morning on the way to work and he told me he was coming out tonight to give us a bid on the work we apparently want him to do.”

Anna didn’t miss her tight tone. Sage thought she saw color creep over her dusky cheekbones. “I figured there was no harm having him come out to take a look. Information is always a good thing. We need to know what our initial capital outlay might be to renovate the apartment so we can accurately determine whether it’s cost-effective to rent it out.”

Sage really hated that prim, businessy tone. Did any personality at all lurk under Anna’s stiff facade? It had to. She knew it must. Abigail had cared about her, had respected her enough to sell her the gift shop and to leave her half of Brambleberry House.

Sage had seen little sign of it, though. She figured Anna probably fell asleep at night dreaming of her portfolio allocation.

She didn’t want to battle this out tonight. She was too darn tired after wrestling thirteen energetic kids all day.

Instead, she reached into her pocket for the dog treat she had grabbed upstairs when she had changed her clothes. She palmed it and held it casually at thigh level.

Conan was a sucker for the bacon treats. Just as she intended, the dog instantly left Anna’s side and sidled over to her. Anna tried to hide her quick flicker of hurt but she wasn’t quite quick enough.

“Dirty trick,” Will murmured from behind her.

Having a witness to her sneakiness made her feel petty and small. She wasn’t fit company for anyone tonight. She let out a breath and resolved to try harder to be kind.

“I think we’re done up here,” Will said. “Should I take a look at the first floor now?”

Anna nodded and led the way down the stairs. Sage thought about escaping to her apartment and indulging in that warm bath that had been calling her name all evening, but she knew it would be cowardly, especially after Will had witnessed her subversive bribery of Conan.

She followed them down the stairs to Abigail’s apartment. With some trepidation, Sage stood in the doorway. She hadn’t been here since Anna moved her things in two weeks ago. She couldn’t help expecting to see Abigail bustle out of the kitchen with her tea tray and a plateful of Pepperidge Farm Raspberry Milanos.

All three of them—four, counting Conan—paused inside the living room. Shared grief for the woman they had all loved twisted around them like thorny vines.

Anna was the first to break the charged moment as she briskly moved into the room. “Sorry about the mess. If I’d had warning, I might have had time to straighten up a little.”

Sage couldn’t see much mess, just a newspaper spread out on the coffee table and a blanket jumbled in a heap on the couch, but she figured those few items slightly out of place probably affected Anna as much as if a hurricane had blown through.