Men Times Three (3 page)

“You had me fooled when you stepped out of the car. I saw jeans and boots and figured you fit in here. But I was wrong. You're city. Completely city.”

“That's a bad thing, I take it. What gave me away?”

“Manicured hands, designer labels and your face hasn't been turned up to the sun in too long.”

“I'm pasty-faced?” She pretended to be insulted, which brought an answering chuckle.

“Let's just say, your skin looks too soft to be outdoors much.”

“That's better.” He was quick. And funny.

“Seattle isn't all that far, but it's a world away. We have lots of fresh air and a slower pace.”

Which all sounded great. Maybe she'd stick around a while and soak up some R and R. “I bet you're just the man to encourage me to relax and enjoy everything the Peninsula has to offer.”

“Could be.” He turned and wedged his full-sized hands into his jeans pockets as he looked up at the inn. “What are your plans for the place?”

“I want to sell as fast as possible,” she said. She looked at the second story and sighed. “But it's in sorry shape.” She hoped the interior was in better condition. “Holly's got a knack for making things look good.” She frowned and checked her watch. “She's supposed to be here soon. Let's hope she can work some magic on short notice.”

“Walk with me, Marnie. There's something out back you need to see.” She set her knapsack on the top step of the porch and let him lead her around the two-story inn. Up close, the wood looked weathered and beaten by years of neglect. It could need more than fresh decorating to bring it up to saleable condition. Her hopes faded with every step. “You'll want to check this out before you make any plans,” he said on a grave note.

“You're giving me the willies, TJ. How bad can it be?”

They rounded the corner of the building and she gasped at the horror before her. “No way. What's going on?”

He had the grace to look apologetic. “We'll be finished before the summer's over.”

Marnie stared at devastation on par with a nuclear blast. Heavy equipment littered an area she remembered as a stand of tall cedar. Very tall cedar. Beautiful serene tall cedar. Not old growth, but mature and lovely. So dark the green looked black at the first sign of cloud cover. It was gone, all of it. She blinked at a sudden wetness at her eyes. She dashed at her cheeks. “It used to be so lovely.” She took a couple of steps, mouth gaping at the loss. “You've got to be kidding me.”

The equipment looked like giant versions of little boys' toy trucks and backhoes, except for the life-sized destruction. She felt sick. Wronged in some way. “What do you mean, you'll be finished? With what?” There were still acres of forest behind the clearing, but she'd be damned if he tore out one more tree. “You're not logging the whole acreage, are you?” What she saw made no sense. He was supposed to be a builder not a destroyer.

“This will all look better by tomorrow,” he promised, indicating the big yellow machines. “We'll clear the stumps. Bring in a grader, then we put in the footings, pour the foundations and—”

She raised her hand and cut him off. “Stop right there. This property is going to be sold. Listed for sale tomorrow. Just as soon as Holly gets here and—” She quit. She'd forgotten Kylie, the unknown cousin. “Never mind. This!” She raised her hands in horror. “This makes me sick. We can't sell with this ugly mess right behind the building.” Not without a drastic cut to the asking price, and in this market, the cut would be too deep. She needed every dime.

The fresh scent of cedar assailed her. Clean and lovely, the cedar blended with the earthy smell of torn up roots. “We thought Holly would spruce up the interior of the inn, maybe get a painting crew in. We expected cosmetic work. Decluttering and staging.”

“Dee what?”

“Tidying up the inn. Making it fresh.”

He snorted. “You haven't been inside. Believe me, there's almost as much work in there as here.”

Her stomach knotted with worry. “This is a desecration.” Her memories of Grandad's land were nothing like this. Holly would be sick when she saw it.

She turned, slowly, trying to get a grasp of the nearly total destruction of at least an acre. Roots sat torn from the earth, soil still clinging to the stumps: roots that were larger in circumference than she was tall.

“This is the ugliest time. It'll look a lot better soon, I promise.” She heard his speech but the words made no real impression.

In her state of shock, she'd forgotten TJ was with her. “You.” She glared at him. “You did this. Without permission? Why?” The timber of course. The trees were worth a fortune. “Grandad would never have agreed to logging his land.”

He had the grace to duck his head. “Not logging. Developing. Jon wanted me to build three cabins back here. He paid me up-front for them. They're going in.”

“They are not. You stop right now.” She tried to superimpose her memories over the devastation, but she couldn't. The torn earth was too ugly, the roots of the trees too naked to be glossed over.

“I gave my word to a dying man.” His tone was clipped, definite. “The work continues.”

She sagged because he was right. The work had to continue.

Grandad had added a codicil to his will that any improvements being made to the inn or grounds had to be completed before the property was sold. Not that this looked like an improvement, but the work had begun and had to be finished.

TJ's attitude made her think he knew about the codicil. So much for her plans to sell fast and get Dennis out of her club.

TJ dropped his hand to Marnie's shoulder. The gesture felt familiar and comfortable. That summer they'd shared had been filled with easy touches and friendly gestures. He'd taught her to fish, held her hand while they'd been hiking and she needed help to get up, down or over rocks and trees. Not much more than children, the touching had been free and easy.

On her last night, while they were swimming, she'd gotten warm all over, let him kiss her and childhood slipped away.

The hand on her shoulder was meant to comfort her but she shrugged him off. “We can't sell the place like this.” She tested to see if he'd mention the codicil.

“Sorry I jumped the gun on the work, but when I give my word, it stands. When his daughter was killed in that accident, Jon called me. He was heartbroken, so I promised him I'd build these cabins and that's what I'll do.”

She blinked the wet out of her eyes. To drive a daughter away, only to have her killed with no chance of reconciliation. Even Jon Dawson would feel a hit like that. “Did he look sick? Complain of feeling ill?”

“Like I said, he was broken. I'd never seen him that wrecked before. He may have had some remorse, but he was still a stubborn bull-headed old man. Knowing Jon, he probably expected your aunt to call and make the first move.”

At Trudy's death, he was broken. She squeezed her eyes shut. Such a waste!

But mourning two people too stubborn to reconnect was not going to get this property fixed up and sold. That was up to her and her cousins. Holly would be okay with the idea, but Kylie felt like an open noose around her neck. At any moment the noose would tighten and her future could blank out.

“I'm going in to see what needs to be done with the interior.” She strode around to the front of the inn. “I can only imagine how bad things are on the inside.”

He caught up to her as she turned the corner. Deke pulled in to park and honked the horn. He unfolded himself from the front seat and put on a show of stretching out the kinks. She flipped him the bird.

TJ spoke in her ear. “Jon didn't have a housekeeper. He lived on the main floor, mostly in the kitchen. Most nights he sacked out in his lounger in front of the television.”

“I'll deal with you later,” she said, her voice icy. “Don't think I don't know that you jumped the gun, as you so aptly put it, just so I couldn't stop you.”

“Smart, too. I like that.”

She swung on him. “Don't think I'm going to sleep with you, either.”

He took a step back, put up his hands in mock surrender. “Not this minute. I'm not that kind of man.” He kept his expression serious.

“Oh. Go to hell.” She stepped onto the veranda and headed for the front door, bracing herself for what she'd see when she opened the door.

“You tell me to go to hell and flip off my little brother. I'm starting to think you don't like us. Or maybe it's just me.”

She ignored him and pulled out the key the lawyer had given her.

“If you'd like to see the pond again, I can take you. Remember the pond?” His voice was a low sexy rumble that steamed down her spine and sent shivers along her nerve endings.

Incorrigible. But fun.

Inside the inn's foyer, Marnie suppressed a grin. “The pond,” she muttered as she turned the lock to keep the O'Banions outside where they belonged. “I can't believe he remembers.”

Heavy draperies shut out the light in the expansive living area so she flipped on the light switch by the door.

At first sight she wanted to shut the lights off again. Instead, she took two steps in and stared at the living area to her right. The fireplace. The furniture. It was all here as she remembered, but—“Oh. My. God.”

W
ith a fumbling turn, Marnie opened the door at her back. Both brothers stood outside the inn. “You didn't tell me it was this bad,” she said. She opened the door wide and waved them in.

The two huge men crowded her, but she was not moving farther into the room without backup. She might step on something scurrying across the floor. She shivered.

“It wasn't this bad last time I was inside,” TJ said, shock mounting as he looked around. “Must have been kids.”

Litter was strewn across the floor. Wine bottles, cigarette butts, beer bottles and—“Is that a condom?” she blurted.

Deke nodded, eyes round. “Safety first, I guess.” He pointed to another one in a corner.

A wide set of stairs rose on her left and the lobby counter sat in a corner nook by the staircase. A pair of ancient sofas faced each other in front of the stone fireplace. “At least they didn't spray paint the stone,” she said.

TJ snorted. “They've done everything but.”

A round coffee table sat between the sofas. The table had been beautiful once, but now it was an ashtray, with butts and burns scoring the fine wood. “Grandad made that table. I remember him putting the finish on it.” She felt ill at the sight. Her stomach clenched as she remembered his hands rubbing, rubbing, rubbing polish into the wood.

TJ nodded. “He made a lot of the furniture. He was a craftsman.”

“How did they get in?” she wondered. “That door hasn't been used in a while; I had to shove to open it.”

“Deke, check the cellar door. I'd have noticed if they'd broken in through the back door in the kitchen.” He went to the windows and tugged at the heavy draperies. The rings screeched across the rod. “Been a while since these were opened.” Dust billowed around him. He coughed and waved the dust away. “Jon lived in his own area beside the kitchen. It doesn't look like he ever came out here.”

“How sad. All of this is just so sad.” No matter that he'd been a crusty old geezer, no one should spend their last days alone in the dark, away from friends and family.
Knowing that his estranged daughter had died before they could mend their fences.

“Jon grew more reclusive every year. For what it's worth, he lived with a lot of regret.”

“Thanks, I'm getting a pretty good idea. Beginning with the time he kicked his only daughter to the curb.”

“That would do it.” No surprise in his tone told her he already knew about the estrangement.

“Our dads tried to keep in touch, but Aunt Trudy had her pride and refused to have anything to do with her family. When she died in that car accident, it was the first time I ever saw my father cry.”

She shook her head at all the foolish loss and vowed again to never lose touch with her brother.

At the dust-laden registration desk she found an old-fashioned rack of square cubbies with ten keys hanging on hooks. Even if the inn was fully functional, she didn't see how ten rooms would provide enough cash flow to keep the doors open. She did some rapid calculations.

“Do you remember Grandad operating this place? Ever?” He'd been closed for renovations the summer she'd been here. She remembered watching him planing wood and turning out spindles in his shop out back.

“He preferred woodworking. This coffee table would kill him if he saw the burns. Bastards.”

“I remember his woodworking shop. Is it still there?”

“Yes. Still functional. In fact, it's all just as he left it, unless the kids broke in there, too.”

“I hope not.” This was bad enough, but to vandalize his tools and equipment would be sacrilege.

Deke returned from the basement. “They got in through the cellar door. There's an overgrown lilac bush out there. That's why we didn't notice they'd ripped out the boards we nailed into place when he died.”

TJ nodded. “His workshop's fine then. We'd have noticed if the padlock had been broken off or the windows busted.”

She gave him a grateful nod. “Thanks for seeing to the locks and things.” It was a shame about the interior and ironic that the O'Banions had torn out every living green thing out back except that lilac bush.

Deke agreed with the assessment of the workshop but went off to check anyway while TJ picked up her bag. “You can't stay here tonight. There's no telling how many people know it's being used as party central, or how dangerous it can get here. Come home with me.” He grinned a wicked smile that offered its own invitation. “I've got a guest room with a full-size bed. Clean sheets, too.”

“Be still my heart.” She fluttered a hand over her heart. “You really know how to seduce a girl.”

A whole night within reach of TJ O'Banion. She glanced at Deke, who walked in, then did an immediate about-face and left again.

No way. She couldn't handle a night in the same house as TJ. She'd said she wouldn't sleep with him and she meant it. He'd deliberately sabotaged her hope of selling the place by tearing up that acre out back and she held on to that reminder like a life ring. “There's got to be a hotel room around.”

“Probably, but I live closer than all the hotels. Plus, Deke and I will be around if you need any help with humping.”

“Excuse me?”

“Furniture. Moving furniture.” His look was all innocence, as he continued, “You don't want to sleep on a filthy bed in this place. God only knows what's gone on upstairs.”

Bad, oh no, it could be bad. She felt color drain from her face as she dashed up the stairs to see for herself. The rooms ran along an open hall that overlooked the main floor. Trashed, all of them. And all the furniture had been stolen.

She stepped back to look over the railing at the brothers. “No beds. They've been stolen, I guess.” Back when she'd visited, Grandad had told her he was making headboards and footboards. He must have gotten some furniture installed.

TJ frowned. “The inn never actually took in any guests. It's possible there was never furniture up there.”

“Never?”

Deke shook his head to confirm. “I saw a lot of stuff stacked in the cellar. Could be Jon stored it down there rather than asking for help to get it upstairs.”

“An old man who refused to ask for help. Sounds like Grandad.”

“Where did you sleep when you were here?” TJ asked.

“In a tiny guestroom in his suite behind the dining room and kitchen.” The room hadn't been much bigger than the single bed and small dresser Grandad had crammed in. She shuddered to think of the condition of that single bed all these years later.

“Ready to reconsider my invitation?” TJ smiled up at her, innocence and sex appeal personified. Damn him.

She warmed all over and need lit a match in her sex. He flashed her a smile that melted her panties and teased her with promise.

Tease. The idea held a certain allure. It could be a lot of fun to tease him for a few days. Payback for ripping the shit out of the land out back.

He may win the war, but she'd give him a hell of a run before she surrendered. Oh yes, she'd hang him by his blue balls until he begged for it.

She smiled back at him and put enough heat in her expression to sizzle steak. “I'll take you up on that offer, TJ, seeing as you were such a good sport to offer me a guest room. To myself.”

 

“Guess I'll move out to my camper then.” Deke muttered beside TJ.

TJ slapped his palm on Deke's shoulder to hold his brother still. He stared up at Marnie. “That's great, Marnie. Jon would be pleased to know you've accepted my hospitality.”

She walked down the stairs much more slowly than she'd run up, her expression serene and sultry. The sway in her hips promised him a good old-fashioned chase.

A chase he was definitely up for.
Up
being the operative word. His cock had been on alert since he'd first set eyes on her.

“Deke, get your shit out of the spare room and move your camper to Lyle's place. I have a guest that smells a lot better than you.”

He'd won this round, with the help of the kids that had ruined the inn. As sad as it was to see the condition of the place, he rejoiced at his good luck.

Marnie had accepted the cabins and the interior of the inn was guaranteed to keep her out of his hair through most of the project.

Best of all, he'd have a whole summer of contact. She wasn't the kind of woman to leave work to others and she'd be on site more often than not.

He had a handle on the woman she'd become: sexy, bright, driven. He wanted to know if there was anything left of the girl she'd been, the funny, smart kid who'd laughed with him and caught his heart in the first blush of attraction.

He had a whole summer to learn about Marnie Dawson. A whole summer to seduce her, starting now.

 

Holly Dawson glanced at her call display. Marnie. Guilt made her answer. “Finally,” Marnie said by way of greeting, “you picked up.”

“Only because you made me feel guilty about not answering. I've been busy. New place, new job, yada yada.” Avoiding her ex-husband had been high on her list, too. She juggled her phone, her purse, her keys, while listening to a wild rant from her favorite cousin.

She opened her apartment door and left her key to dangle in the lock as she listened. “You won't believe the devastation. All those beautiful trees gone. Uprooted as if they never existed,” Marnie wailed.

Holly didn't get a word in while Marnie blasted through some more complaints about a guy named Paul Bunyan who was immovable as a mountain. She got hopelessly lost in the details, none of which made sense.

The best thing to do when Marnie got on a rant was to let her wind down. She set her purse on the shelf in the hall closet, while Marnie complained in her ear about stubborn mountain men in plaid shirts.

“Paul who?” She leaned on the wall, prepared to listen for as long as it took. Marnie in a panic didn't happen often, so it must mean serious trouble at the inn.

“He tore up an acre of trees to build log cabins.”

“Paul Bunyan?” Marnie was frazzled if she was imagining fictional folk heroes. “Have you seen his ox?”

“Yes, no, don't be a pain and
listen
.” Marnie's exasperated voice rang through the phone. “His name is really TJ O'Banion, but he reminds me of Paul Bunyan. He's big and brawny and builds log cabins.”

“And he's cleared the back acres? All of them?”

“One. But you'll recall the codicil Grandad added to his will? We thought it was odd, but now it makes sense. He paid the O'Banions to clear the land and build log cabins behind the inn.”

“What was he thinking?”

“After Aunt Trudy died, he added the codicil and paid TJ in advance. The work has to be finished before we can sell.” Marnie stalled out.

“If the cabins increase the value, then I'm fine with the whole idea.” She looked forward to spending a couple of weeks away from Seattle and the chance to spruce up the Friendly Inn couldn't have come at a better time.

For lots of reasons, getting gone worked for Holly, but Marnie wanted in and out and a sold sign on the lawn. This time on the Peninsula was time Marnie couldn't afford.

Holly understood, but at the same time, she wanted the peace and quiet. She needed to sort out her life and a couple weeks away fit the bill. Marnie still ranted, but one detail came clear.

Grandad had always been an out-of-the-box thinker, a man who forged ahead with ideas without a thought for anyone else. She couldn't decide if that made him strong and decisive or just plain selfish.

He would never have consulted with his children about such a move, even though the land and the business would one day be theirs.

But he'd fooled everyone by skipping a generation in his will. He'd passed all his land down to his granddaughters with the stipulation that no male descendants could visit the inn until one year after his death.

“I wish our fathers could go up there and see what's going on. I have to wonder what else the old man had up his sleeve.”

“Doesn't bear thinking about. But in a way, I'm glad we only have each other and Kylie to deal with when it comes to decisions about the inn. Surely three people can find common ground sooner than an entire family of stubborn Dawsons.” A hint of humor laced through Marnie's words.

“We'll manage, but—” A pair of strong arms caught Holly around the waist, cutting off her words. She yelped in shock but recognized the scent of the man who held her.

“Holly? Are you okay, what's going on?”

“I have to go, Marnie.” Jack nuzzled her neck. “I have unexpected company.” Her ex nipped at her ear, while he dangled her keys over the hall table. She heard him kick the door shut as she disconnected.

Damn, she should have seen him lurking outside the building.

She flipped her phone off and turned into Jack's arms, thinking fast. He snugged her hips tight to his.

His cock rose, ready and hard between them. Holly let him kiss her while she tried to think of a reason to get him out of here before the inevitable happened.

Too late.

His hand slid up her skirt to her pussy with expert knowledge and pressed against her in a rocking motion. He knew she'd be wet for him in seconds. Sex had almost always been good with Jack.

It was everything else that was wrong.

Moisture built while he sighed into her mouth. “See, babe? It's so right for us.” He tore her panty hose open then hooked a finger around the crotch of her panties and pulled them down so he could open her and plunge into her moistening channel.

Damn, this was good. She tried not to like it, but her knees went weak as she opened into a bloom. She hadn't seen him in two weeks and she'd hoped he'd take the hint and let these booty calls come to an end. But Jack had never let anything go easily.

“Jack, we need to talk.” He rubbed his thumb over her clit. “Really.” But, oh, it felt good. So good. She let her head roll as he rubbed at her. They'd talk later, after he'd woven his magic. She was such a sucker for this. Did it make her weak to want sex this much? Her clit plumped as he rolled it under his thumb.