Harlequin Special Edition October 2015, Box Set 1 of 2 (45 page)

This would devastate Della. All her life his mother had called her husband her one true love. They'd had almost thirty-five years of marriage together, with that anniversary just around the corner. Not to mention finding out just before Jack's wedding? No matter how Mac sliced it, the outcome was crappy.

A knock sounded on the wall behind him. He turned in his seat to see Savannah standing in the doorway, lit by the sunshine coming through the windows behind her. Breathtaking. That was what she was, even in business clothes.

The dark fabric of her navy pantsuit offset her blond hair, up again but this time in a bun fastened by some kind of clip. A few tendrils had escaped, dusting the tempting curve of her neck. Even though the suit's cut was severe, it only seemed to accent Savannah's curves, as if her real self was trying to escape the structure of the outfit. She'd paired the suit with bright red heels, a little rebellious streak of color. He wondered about those heels. Imagined her wearing them—and only them.

“I was about to go to lunch,” she said. “I was going to ask you to go, but you said you always eat while you work, so I'm just stopping in to say I'm heading out.”

Mac's cell sat a few inches away, reminding him of everything he was avoiding. He covered the phone with his pad of paper, then turned to Savannah. His gaze flicked to those red heels, then back up to her deep green eyes. “Actually, I could use a break. Why don't I join you?”

She arched a brow. “Oh...sure. That's fine.”

Damn. He'd simply assumed she wouldn't mind him tagging along. Maybe he was reading her wrong. “Unless you wanted to go by yourself.”

“No, no, I'd love the company. As long as you promise one thing.” She put up a finger and a teasing expression lit her face. He liked her like that, with that little half smile on her face. He liked how quick she was to forget a disagreement, how quickly she shifted back into that friendly tease that so attracted him.

“What's that?”

“No business talk until after we've eaten.” She arched a brow as if daring him to disagree.

“But it's a prime opportunity—”

“To build a relationship. A professional relationship,” she clarified. “So you don't have to worry about me asking you about your mother's cataracts or your brother's new puppies.”

“That's perfect,” he said, gathering his jacket and keys, but leaving his cell phone behind. For the first time that he could remember, Mac wanted that moment of...peace. The same peace he'd seen in Savannah's face last night on the beach. “Because the last thing I want to talk about right now is my family.”

Chapter Six

M
ac's comment only intrigued Savannah. Why didn't he want to talk about his family? As far as she knew, the Barlows were great people. One of the brothers was running the family garage, while the other had a carpentry business. Both businesses were located here in Stone Gap. She'd never heard anything bad about any of his family. Of course, that could be because they were all the exact opposite of Mac.

Though, sitting across from him in the sunny Good Eatin' Café, Savannah had to admit Mac didn't look much like a corporate raider. More like a bad boy trying to reform. He had on a pale blue button-down and dark blue designer jeans, but he'd traded his riding boots for a shiny, expensive pair of men's dress shoes. His mahogany hair had a few wayward waves that gave him a rakish air, and when he flashed one of his rare smiles...

A part of her melted.

Professional relationship indeed. She was thinking about him in ways that had nothing to do with work. Had been ever since that kiss.

Vivian Hoffman, the gray-haired owner of the Good Eatin' Café, came bustling over to their table. She bent down and gave Savannah a quick hug. “So glad to see you here, honey, and with a man, no less. 'Bout time you got your dating legs under you again.”

“Uh, Miss Viv, I'm not dating—”

“Nice to see you again, Miss Viv,” Mac said. “It's been a while since I've been here.”

Vivian studied him, then the older woman's pale eyes widened and she pressed a hand to her mouth. “Well, in all my days, it's Maxwell Barlow. Good gracious, I thought you had disappeared off the side of the earth. It's been a forever since you've been in here.”

“Not quite off the side of the earth,” Mac said, with a warm smile. “I've been working up in Boston.”

“And are you here for your brother's wedding?” Miss Viv asked.

Savannah watched the exchange, intrigued. Miss Viv was a sort of good-neighbor barometer. If she liked a person, chances were that they were good folks, as her mom used to say. The kind everyone would love to have coffee with. Miss Viv's stamp of approval on Mac Barlow said maybe he wasn't as big a shark as Savannah thought. Or maybe Mac had been gone so long from Stone Gap that Miss Viv didn't know the man he had become.

“Yes, ma'am, I am,” Mac said. “The wedding is next weekend.”

“Wonderful, just wonderful.” She put a hand on Mac's shoulder. “The Barlows have always done Stone Gap proud.”

Something in Mac's face shifted. “That's what I hear.”

Vivian handed them two menus. “I'll be back in two shakes for your order. It's so nice to see you again, Mac, and to see you, Savannah, with him. If he's a Barlow, he's a good catch. So don't let him go. There's a hundred women in Stone Gap who would gladly snatch him up.”

“Oh, I'm not—”

“And as for you,” Miss Viv turned to Mac. “You should call yourself blessed if this woman gives you the time of day. She's way out of your league, Mac, but maybe you'll get lucky and she'll feel pity for the likes of you.” Miss Viv grinned, then headed off to the kitchen.

Savannah wanted to crawl under the table. Good Lord, that had been embarrassing, like being called out in algebra class and caught passing notes to the cute boy in the second row. “I'm so sorry,” she said. “I didn't want to leave her with the impression that we were together, but she interrupted before I could tell her.”

Mac grinned. “Well, according to Miss Viv, being with a Barlow is a good thing.”

“And what about being with this particular Barlow?”

“The jury is still out on that.” He picked up his menu, his face unreadable, the playful mood gone.

A few minutes later they'd placed their orders. The regular lunch crowd began to filter in, sliding into familiar booths and seats. Savannah said hello to a few people, then turned her attention to Mac. As intrigued as she'd been by his comment about his family and the mysteries in his eyes, she reminded herself to stick to safe topics. Ones that didn't make her think about kissing him.

Uh-huh. Considering she'd thought about kissing him a hundred times already, that resolution was already weak. “So, you said you started doing this because you like a challenge. Plenty of jobs offer a challenge. What was it that drew you to buying and selling companies specifically?”

He arched a brow. “I thought this was a working lunch.”

“It will be. After we eat. You promised me no talk about Hillstrand Solar before we eat, and I promised no asking about family. So that leaves the field pretty wide-open to other kinds of questions.”

“Personal questions.”

“Aren't all questions personal in one way or another?”

He considered that. “Maybe so. But personal questions lead to personal relationships. I thought you wanted to keep this professional.”

“I do...but I also sort of changed my mind.”

“Changed your mind? Why?”

She didn't want to admit the truth. That she liked the way he smiled. That when he'd said
yes, ma'am
to Miss Viv it had sent something warm and dark through Savannah's gut. That a part of her itched to run her fingers through that dark hair and trail kisses along the muscular lines of his neck, his shoulders. “Because that's the way I do business, Mac. Surely you recognize that by now. I can't work with people I don't know, and I still don't know you.”

He considered that, his blue eyes as mysterious as a stormy sky. “There's not much to know about me.”

“I think there's a lot to know about everyone,” Savannah said. “To me, people are like old houses. Layers and layers of paint and wallpaper covering up all those years of scuffs and height markings and memories. Sometimes you have to really work to get to the best part—the heart of the home, so to speak.”

“And is that how you see me? Covered with peeling paint and bad wallpaper?”

She laughed. “You? You're covered in barbed wire and poison ivy.”

“Hey, I'm not that bad.”

“You have your moments.” She grinned, then crossed her hands on the table. “Okay. So tell me, what made you get into this kind of work?”

Mac waited to speak until after a waitress had dropped off two glasses of ice water. “When I was in high school I really wanted to own my own company. I know, it sounds crazy, but I guess I was never much for working for other people. I had worked in my dad's garage, but my dad and I didn't work well together. Think oil and water. So I quit there, and got a job at a local car lot. The place was a disaster. The owner was great at sales but terrible at managing people or keeping up with the books and day-to-day. You'd ask him about his receivables, or his annual projections, and he'd have no idea. I loved analyzing those kinds of things, so I started learning about it and handling more of that aspect of the business for him. I really liked the challenge of selling cars and did pretty good. Saved every dime I made, which back then was a pretty good sum.”

“Was that Charlie Beecher's place?” Savannah asked. “My dad bought me a used Taurus from there when I turned sixteen. I named it Sylvia and drove that thing for years, until it died one afternoon on route 404. I loved that silly car.”

“You named your car?” A grin played on Mac's lips.

“Doesn't everyone?”

He chuckled. “No, not everyone.”

“You should try it. Like that motorcycle of yours? I'd call it Beast, because it roars like a lion.”

“Beast, huh?” Mac considered that. “I like that name.”

“And I bet the Beast will like it, too.”

“We'll see about that.” Mac chuckled again. “Anyway, yes, it was Charlie's lot. Probably him or his son sold your dad that Taurus. Charlie was a great guy and terrific with his customers. He sold a lot of cars, but he just wasn't much for anything related to the financial aspects of a business. Like managing his invoicing and operating on a budget. As a result he was barely skating by financially, and when I bought the business from him a few years after I started working there, he was teetering on the edge of bankruptcy.”

“And then ten years later you bought it back from the company that you'd sold it to.” It was that small fact that had surprised her about him. The one that had given her hope that maybe Mac Barlow had a sentimental side, and she could use that to sway him to save Hillstrand Solar.

Mac nodded. “I did.”

“Why?”

The one-word question seemed to stump him. He drew in a deep breath, fiddled with the unused straw beside his water glass. “It's complicated.”

“Is that code for you don't want to talk about it?”

“Yes.” He punched the straw against the table, releasing it from its paper cocoon, and dropped it into the water. “So, what made you want to work in the solar-industries field?”

A change of subject. Okay, that was only fair, she decided. “I originally didn't want to work at Hillstrand at all. I just worked there in the summer, earning extra money helping my dad out. That kind of thing. When I was young, I really liked spending time with my dad, and going to work with him was one way to do that. Eventually, it turned into a part-time job.” She shrugged. “I guess I never really thought he meant it when he said he wanted to leave the company to me.”

That was the short answer she gave everyone, especially the employees who'd been surprised to see her step into Willie Jay's shoes immediately after the funeral. It wasn't the truth—more a version of the truth—and a version that made the whole surprise of being in charge easier to take.

“Then what did you really want to do?” Mac asked.

“Exactly what I'm doing.”

He snorted. “Right. Tell me the real story.”

“What makes you think I never wanted to be in the CEO's chair?”

“If you want something, your entire life revolves around it. I spent every spare minute learning about how businesses worked, saving my money, writing up plans. I learned every aspect of business management from the ground up. You said yourself that you just sort of fell into this when your dad died.”

“I said I didn't think he really wanted me to run it. Nor did I think he'd die as young as he did.” She'd thought she'd have years, many, many years to build her remodeling business and cement her career before her father passed along the Hillstrand mantle. She'd also thought he'd find a successor, someone with the right business acumen and instincts. Someone other than her.

The waitress brought their salads. Savannah's was loaded with chunks of fried chicken, blue cheese and dressing, but Mac's was a veritable vegetable garden with the dressing on the side. Even in his food choices, Mac Barlow was lean.

He speared up some lettuce and ate it. “I researched you, too, this morning.”

She laughed. “I doubt you found much about me on the internet besides a few embarrassing pictures from high school soccer games. For the record—” she wagged a forkful of chicken at him “—I was thirteen and had no sense of style.”

“You were cute at thirteen. And seventeen. I saw the picture of you at the junior Christmas dance that the local paper ran.”

Her face heated. What was she, back in high school again? Flattered because the cute older boy found her pretty? “My mom made me that dress. I remember agonizing over the color.”

“Blue looks really good on you,” he said.

She glanced down at the dark blue pantsuit and felt the heat in her cheeks multiply. He thought she looked good? Why did that make her so happy? “Thank you.”

He speared up some more salad and ate it. “I also found out that you've been remodeling houses for a few years. There was even an article in a local paper about one of your projects.”

“The Honeysuckle Lane house.” Damn, she'd forgotten those were out there on the web. If she told Mac that her true love lay in renovating old homes, would he ever see her as capable of being CEO? She doubted it. “It was just a...hobby.” She turned her attention to her salad so that he wouldn't read the truth in her eyes.

“A hobby?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She took a bite of chicken.

“You've renovated over a dozen homes. Spent months on that Honeysuckle Lane project. That sounds like more than a hobby to me.”

“The Honeysuckle Lane project was complex, that's all.”

“So you're a hundred percent dedicated to Hillstrand Solar right now?”

Why did hearing those words make her feel as though she was being strangled? This was what she wanted—to save her father's company and keep it going long into the future. “Yes, of course.”

He eyed her for a moment that seemed to stretch into an hour, then forked up some more salad. “Good. Because I expect you to be giving a hundred and ten percent this week. It's going to take that and more to get this company back on track.”

“You can count on me. I can't think of another place I'd rather be.” Then she thought of the sagging porch at the beach house, the way the entire house seemed to be grieving, just as she was. How her parents had loved that house, and how her mother hadn't been able to bear returning because she said it was too sad without the love of her life there.

“No other place,” Savannah repeated.

But it was a lie.

* * *

Mac Barlow was a single-minded man. He would focus on a project and stay on top of it until he reached the end, regardless of the complexity or length of time involved. That kind of laser attention was what had enabled him to buy and sell company after company over the years, generally to great success and profit, but with very little downtime in between.

But for some reason he was far from focused when it came to Hillstrand Solar. Ever since that kiss on the beach and then today's lunch—where he'd sat across a table from Savannah and talked about everything pretty much
but
the specifics of the company—Mac's mind had been on the smile on her lips and the way her green eyes had seemed even greener whenever she wore blue. And how much he wanted to kiss her then, and wanted to kiss her still.