I looked at my watch again. It was Italian, handcrafted after my trip to Milan in the spring. The leather was soft but strong. The hands were thin blades of platinum that kept perfect time with the gears. It didn’t matter where the damn thing came from—he was late. I didn’t like waiting for anyone. Commissioner or CEO—I didn’t wait.

I motioned to the waitress to refill my iced tea. I would give him five more minutes.

“Anything else I can get you while you wait?” she asked. I looked over her shoulder and saw that cute little reporter from the trailer park waiting at the hostess stand. For a split second I wondered if she had followed me here.

“No, I think I’m good.” I smiled.

The reporter followed the hostess through a maze of tables. I watched her navigate on those high heels. Her legs were long and slender. Still gorgeous. Still a reporter.

As they approached she shoved her sunglasses on her head.

“What are you doing here?” She looked startled.

“I have a lunch meeting. What about you, Miss Strickland?”

She smiled. “I’m having lunch. I like this part of the beach. The view is nice here don’t you think?”

“It is. Very pretty. Dining alone?” I asked.

“I am. I’m working on a story. Who is your meeting with?” She was a nosey little thing. Bossy. Pushy in a cute, almost sexy way.

I pushed the menu to the edge of the table. “Why? Thinking about writing about my lunch habits?”

“Since I don’t know your name that’s going to be difficult.” She lowered herself in the seat across from me, her eyes set in determination.

“I have a meeting.” I pointed to where she sat. “You’re in someone’s seat.”

“Why don’t I keep you company until he or she shows up? Maybe you could tell me what your involvement is in the Sailor’s Cove development while we wait.” She was presumptuous, but she had good instincts.

I laughed. “I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. I don’t mix business and pleasure.”

She squirmed slightly in her seat. “I thought you said you had a meeting.”

“I do. That is purely business.” I leaned forward. “You are the pleasure part.” The words had the effect I wanted. Her face flushed, and she twisted those pouty lips together.

She ruffled through her bag and withdrew a small pad of paper and a pen. She clicked the end. “I’d like to ask you a few questions. If you purchase the Sailor’s land, what do you plan to do with it?”

It was always the first question any reporter asked me. What was I going to do with the precious piece of land that held so much history or so many memories? I had heard it a hundred times.

What people didn’t seem to understand was that there was never going to be new land for me to harvest. Land didn’t materialize out of thin air, and I hadn’t figured out how to create an island yet. I had to find what was already out there. Sometimes it meant tearing down a hundred year old house. Sometimes it was destroying a rat-infested apartment slum. Some projects people welcomed, but it was the ones like Sailor’s Cove. The ones like the Dune Scape. Places that people were sentimental about, caused the most problems.

“You know what I think, Miss Strickland?” I tested her.

She stopped clicking her pen and looked at me. “What?”

“People are too attached.” My voice remained cool.

“Attached? What do you mean?” The flecks in her hazel eyes darkened.

I continued. “They get caught up in ghosts. Why hold on to something that is old and falling apart when you could make it new and full of value again?” I pointed out the obvious.

“Because some people find value in the past,” she retorted.

I tapped my fingers on the table. “Too much I think. I have no interest in it.”

“So will you at least admit that you are interested in the land deal? It’s going to be public record soon enough. This is your opportunity to tell the developer’s side of the story—before anyone else gets their spin on it.”

The sunlight from the window caught her hair, turning the strands almost a honey color. It was distracting. She was distracting.

“Look, Miss Strickland, I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut our interview short.”

I spotted Stefan Hernandez making his way to the table.

“Sorry I’m late, Aiden.” His dark mustache had a way of twitching when he spoke.

I stood to shake his hand. “Not a problem, Stefan.” I cleared my throat. “Maybe you know Miss Strickland.”

She wiggled out of the chair and stood. “Mr. Hernandez, we met at the last city council meeting. Veronica Strickland from the News & Report.”

I could tell he recognized her. “Of course. You were the one asking all of the rezoning questions.”

“That was me.” She smiled brightly. “I don’t recall getting answers, though.”

“Nice to see you again.” Stefan nodded.

She collected her bag and slid it on her shoulder. “I hope you two enjoy your lunch, Aiden.” She winked and hurried to her table at the other end of the restaurant. I watched her tight ass sashay until Stefan interrupted.

“Talking to the press, already?” Stefan eyed me.

I shook my head. “No, she was at the site this morning interviewing some of the residents. We just ran into each other. Do you know her well?” I asked.

Stefan picked up the menu I had folded. “I try to make it my business to know as many of the local reporters as I can. It has its benefits, especially around election time.”

I nodded. “I’m sure.”

“She’s new. I’ve only seen her at a few of the council meetings,” he added.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Doesn’t mean she can’t stir up trouble for us.” He smiled as the waitress approached ready to take his drink order.

“You think there is going to be a lot of local resistance to the project?” I took a sip of the tea refill.

“I’ll have an iced tea and a grilled steak sandwich,” he instructed our server.

I waited for him to answer my question. I might have underestimated our timeline for construction if we had red tape to wade through.

“The only real resistance is going to be at the park. I doubt the rest of the island is going to be in the middle of it, but all it takes is one attention-grabbing story to get everyone riled up.” He looked over my shoulder.

I turned to follow his stare. Veronica was typing something into her phone. “And you think someone like her could be the problem?”

“It only takes one. From what I know about her she’s a go-getter. Had plenty of rezoning questions for me.” He looked outside at the shoreline. “You know I’m up for re-election in the fall.”

I was prepared for the conversation to take this turn. “How many terms have you served now? Is it five?” I pretended not to know.

“Sure is.”

I smiled. “Well, I know the good citizens of South Padre would be happy to see you serve a sixth. How is your campaign going?”

“I try not to get weighed down with the campaign numbers, but it never hurts to add to your list of supporters.”

“No, it sure doesn’t,” I agreed.

There were lines I wouldn’t cross. I wasn’t about to do anything illegal that would risk my company or this deal, but there were blurry lines I ran into every once in a while. This was one of those times. Stefan and I would navigate the unspoken terms of our arrangement.

“The more time I spend in South Padre, the more interested I am in the politics here.”

“How are things going over at the condo deal?” Stefan asked. “I was happy when construction started. Cole hired all local work.”

“The condos are selling. I think there are only five left. I leave the details to my business partners.”

“You know your dad was a friend of mine. He never wanted to sell that place.”

I gripped the knife in my right hand when the server placed our plates on the table. The mention of my father irritated me. It was unnatural to discuss him. Even more so with Stefan Hernandez.

“I didn’t sell it.” I forced a smile. I hated unexpected stories about my father.

The commissioner chuckled. “Splitting hairs don’t you think?”

“The land is still in the family. I made a smart business decision, which is exactly what I plan to do with the trailer park.” I lowered my voice. “I need to know what kind of opposition I’m facing if I build the resort.” I wanted to steer him away from my family’s politics.

Stefan took a bite of his sandwich. “There’s only one commissioner who is anti-development. She always causes problems, but she never wins. It would make things a lot smoother if you could get her to go along with the idea.”

“Which commissioner?”

“Roberta Costas. She’s new, like your reporter friend.” He laughed.

“What’s her story? Why is she anti-development?” I didn’t know the ins and outs of all Padre’s politics. I had properties all over the world. I couldn’t get bogged down in political spider webs everywhere I did business.

“She’s an environmentalist.”

I groaned. They were my worst nightmare. A political environmentalist who was anti-development would create a firestorm of problems.

“Anyone else I should be concerned about?” I inquired.

“Nah. If you land this deal you’ll have enough support from the voters. I can’t let Mitchell Thomas’s son down.” He meant it as a compliment, but my skin crawled and my stomach knotted. I didn’t want any damn favors because of my last name. Not because of my father.

“I appreciate that, Stefan.” I had to work from unclenching my jaw.

The waitress appeared with the check. I snatched it before the commissioner could grab it.

“Lunch is on me,” I offered.

He wiped his face, taking extra time with his mustache. “Well, thank you.”

“Thanks for the updates, Stefan. I’m glad we could meet for lunch. It was informative.”

“Sure thing. I’m looking forward to your project getting started. Jobs for Padre are always a good thing in my opinion.” He slapped me on the back as we stood from the table. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you get this pushed through the council. You have my word.”

I smiled. It was exactly what I was counting on. “I’ll be in touch.” I watched as he walked out of the restaurant. I sat to wait for the waitress to pick up the bill with my credit card.

My eyes widened.

Veronica dropped into the commissioner’s empty chair, looking pleased. The tips of her cheekbones were flushed pink. Her eyes almost had a glimmer. I saw more hints of green this time.

“You’re Aiden Thomas.”

“And how did you figure that out over lunch?”

“It wasn’t that hard.” She waved her smart phone in front of me. “Lunching with the longest sitting South Padre commissioner? What did you talk about?”

“Our golf game.” I lied.

“Come on. You can’t seriously think I would believe that.” She laid the phone on the table. I noticed her long nails.

“I don’t know what you believe, but I have another meeting I need to attend.” I thanked the server for the check and signed the receipt.

“I read about you,” she spouted.

“Find something interesting?”

“Mostly just basic info.”

“Sounds boring.” I didn’t know what she had unearthed over the course of lunch. I tried to keep my eyes off her lips when she talked.

“No, not at all. You’ve accomplished so much for someone who’s twenty-eight.”

“As opposed to someone’s who’s twenty-two? Did I get that right?” I didn’t know why I kept baiting her—only I liked the way she looked when I got under her skin. It was fucking sexy as hell.

“My age is not a part of this conversation, but it’s twenty-five. You are the topic.”

“Twenty-five.” I waggled my eyebrows, taunting her. “Hate to disappoint you, but I’ve got to run.”

“Here’s my card.” Veronica shoved a square business card into my hand as I tried to leave the table. “At least consider giving me an interview. You could get ahead of the pushback the locals are going to give you.”

“I don’t get pushback.”

“This isn’t like other places, Mr. Thomas.” I liked how she said my name. It was as if she purred. This girl was a spitfire. She didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by who I was.

I tucked the card into my wallet. I had no intention of calling her to set up an interview. “It was a pleasure seeing you again, Miss Strickland.”

I brushed past her.

“You’ll change your mind,” she called behind me.

If only she knew how rarely that happened.