“Let me get this straight,” Eric said slowly. “You’re saying I have to participate in a charity event here in Bright Beach before I’m allowed to buy this house?”

The Alpha stared at the relentlessly perky Beta realtor, feeling sure he was being pranked. He snuck a glance at the nameplate on her desk. “Carla, is that even legal?”

“I know it sounds strange,” she answered, with an apologetic little smile. “But I believe it is legal and enforceable.”

“Trust me, I’ll find out,” the Alpha said grimly. He made a mental note to call his lawyer the second he finished up here. “Remind me why, again?”

“The property was originally owned by the McLeods, longtime residents here in Bright Beach,” she said, with the cheerful patience of a kindergarten teacher. “But after they passed away, the house went to their daughter, who lives up in Vermont. It’s been on the market for a few years, and since she’s not in a huge hurry to sell, she’s been content to leave it empty. But in Mrs. McLeod’s will, she specified that whoever wants to buy the house has to participate in one charity event here in town prior to the sale. Her daughter knew how much she loved Bright Beach, so she’s insisting on the request being honored.”

“Does she realize I have cash in hand and I’m ready to buy it now? We can close within the week if she’ll agree,” Eric said. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Small towns were just ridiculous places.

“I told her, but she wants to honor her mother’s memory,” Carla said. “The daughter has agreed to put the house under contract, so nobody will be able to buy it out from under you, but you won’t be able to finalize the sale until you complete the charity event.”

Until the sale was done, he was stuck, and he knew it. The Alpha pressed his fingertips to his temples. He could feel a headache coming on. “I appreciate her commitment to the town, but does she know I have no intention of actually living here?” he asked slowly. That was the understatement of the year. The sooner he got out of this aggressively quaint little town, the better.

“She knows,” the agent said with a little shrug. “But I’m afraid she’s not going to budge on this point, Mr. Carwell. You can try to convince her otherwise, but I feel like it would be a waste of your time.” She smiled apologetically, then brightened. “You’re in luck though! One of my friends is very involved with volunteer work, and I believe she said the spring event for the Bright Beach Charity Committee is coming up in the next few weeks. You could join the team and fulfill the requirement in no time.”

Carla must have seen his gloomy expression because she reached over and patted his hand. “I know you won’t be staying with us for very long, Mr. Carwell, but it is for a good cause. If you’d like, I can get you the information for the Committee’s next meeting?”

“Yeah, that would be good,” he answered. “Let’s start on the preliminary paperwork and I’ll see about this charity thing.”

The realtor happily agreed and bustled away to make some copies. The Alpha didn’t share her enthusiasm, but he had to admit going along with the stupid rule would probably be the fastest route to getting what he wanted. And when he wanted something, Eric never let anything stand in his way.

* * *

The Mermaid Inn was just as he remembered it from the last time he was in Bright Beach: frilly and fussy and “charming,” if you were an 80-year-old lady. The Inn was built directly on the beach, painted entirely white, and done in pseudo Queen-Anne style, with turrets and elaborate scrolling gingerbread trim everywhere. It had twenty rooms, not including the bridal suite, and a little gazebo on the beach for weddings. Since it was the off-season, most of the rooms were empty, which offended his real-estate instincts. If they turned him loose on it, he would flatten it and build something with year-round tenants and turn a tidy profit. But nobody had bothered to ask him.

He found his room and let himself in. A blast of air conditioning washed over him, chasing away the humid late-afternoon air. The Alpha sighed as he took in the fluffy lace bedspread and the cliche nautical art on the walls. He consoled himself with the thought that, like almost everything in his life, his stay in Bright Beach would be only temporary.

After all, his last development, a stretch of higher-end retail shops, had sold quickly. And the market looked prime to heat up soon if his predictions were good. He could see how some people might think Bright Beach was charming, and he was glad for that, since those people bought his properties. And he had to admit, the beach itself was pretty, with sugar-white sand and rolling dark blue waves.

But the town itself was too damn quaint and nice, and this whole “forced charity” situation was the prime example of that. The sooner he was done with Bright Beach, the better.

Eric tossed his suitcase on the rack and hung up his suit jacket in the little wardrobe. His phone alarm chimed, reminding him of his last appointment for the day. He sat down at the rickety white wicker desk, pulled out his laptop, and signed into Skype.

Right on time, an incoming call buzzed. He smiled and clicked the video call button. “Hey there, baby girl.”

His niece, Leah, beamed at him through the camera. She was seventeen, sweet and smart as hell, with a curly blonde bob and a smile that always made him feel like there was still some good in the world. “Uncle Eric! Did you make it to the beach? Can I come visit?”

“I don’t think you’d like this beach, sweetie.”

She frowned, looking confused. “Why not? What’s wrong with it?”

“Remember how I told you that I did some business in a town that didn’t even have a Starbucks a little over a year ago?” When she nodded, he said, “yeah, that’s where I am again.”

She wrinkled her nose in disbelief. “What do they have instead?”

Eric frowned, trying to remember. “A tacky little tiki bar, a grocery store that also sells souvenirs, and a combination bait and ice cream shop.”

Leah giggled. Another woman with the same blonde curls as her daughter slid onto the screen and shook her head at him. “I think that sounds lovely, little brother,” she said. “A real small town. They don’t make those anymore, you know. But if you have your way, it will all change, won’t it?”

Eric rolled his eyes. His older sister never failed to make him feel guilty for his job. He was used to it: real estate developers got a bad rap for swooping in, bulldozing beautiful historic landmarks, and building ugly new buildings for a profit.

Never mind that his last development here in Bright Beach had gotten rid of an eyesore of a falling-down house and had enabled no less than five small business owners to set up shop. Hell, one of them was even an Omega-only gym. Now that was progress. And it was all thanks to him, thank you very much. But he knew arguing with his sister was pointless.

“Hi, Charlotte. Anything else you want to lecture me on?”

Leah giggled again, but his sister looked annoyed. She nudged her daughter. “Say bye to your uncle, honey. He and I need to talk.”

His niece pouted, but scooted over obediently to let her mother have the chair. “Bye, Uncle Eric!”

“Talk to you later, sweetie,” he said, blowing her a kiss.

Charlotte waited until the door closed behind her, then leaned in, talking low so that Leah wouldn’t hear.

“I hate to bother you about this, Eric, but the college is going to need their first payment in six months,” she said quietly. “Do you still think you can still cover it? If you can’t, tell me now. I don’t want to get Leah’s hopes up for nothing.”

Eric waved away her worry. “The market’s getting hot. I need to take care of one little thing and then I’ll close on the new property. I’ll call in the demolition crew as soon as I get the deed and start construction on the new condo when the lot is cleared, and if there’s no delay on the building I’ll have that check in hand come June. Is that enough time?”

She nodded, then looked guilty. “I’m sorry for talking bad about your job, Eric. I know you do it to help us. It means the world to Leah to know she can go to her dream school this fall. I just wish I could be the one to pay.”

“Hey, we’ve been over this,” he said gently. “You work just as hard as I do, but you have double the expenses since you’re raising a kid. And I’m happy to help Leah, you know that. She’s a good kid, and she’ll be a hell of a doctor someday,” he said, smiling at the thought. He would do a hundred charity events in a hundred crummy little beach towns if it meant making enough money so that his niece could go to college. “Anyway, I should probably get going. I want to check out a few things at the place I’m buying before it gets dark.”

“Hey, Eric?” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” she said softly. He could see the worry and gratitude in her eyes. He knew it was hard for his proud, hardworking sister to accept his help, but he was glad she did.

“Don’t get sappy on me, Char,” Eric said, hoping his teasing would lighten the mood.

She flipped him the bird, and he laughed. “There’s the sister I know and love.”

Charlotte grinned. “Go, look at your little empire. Talk to you later.”

When the screen went blank, he was alone again in the hotel room. It was so quiet, he could hear the faint sound of the ocean waves from the beach outside. It was too quiet, suddenly.

He quickly changed out of his suit and into the jeans and work boots he favored, grabbed his keys, and headed out the door.