Chapter Twenty-two

Hanna eased out of bed, wincing as her stitches reminded her they were still there, holding her skin together.

Sunlight beamed in through the windows, offering a cheery greeting she would have appreciated more on a different morning.

She'd had sex with Nate. She'd promised herself she wouldn't, but she had. Three times.

It had been easy to be strong and resist her baser urges in the light of day, but in the rich shadows that painted the small hours, her willpower had faltered.

He was gone now. She could feel the emptiness of the garage apartment without having to check to see if he was in another room. She knew he wasn't.

She told herself that this was a good thing. He'd got what he wanted—so had she—and had left. Transaction complete. It didn't have to be more than that. She didn't have to make a big deal out it, like some kind of teenage girl.

Sex was just a bodily function. No shame, no muss, no fuss. Moving on.

But she wanted it to be more. Mean more.

She knew it wasn't trendy for her to get all emotional about a fling, but she couldn't seem to help herself. She wanted true love. She wanted romance.

That notion made a bubble of jaded laughter explode from her mouth. Here she was, worrying about whether or not he'd call her after last night, when she should have been figuring out what she was going to do if he kicked her out on her ass because he was bored with her.

It wouldn't be the first time a man had fucked her and run. Only this time, that man was also her boss, which was why she never should have slept with him to begin with.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Hanna sighed and stretched carefully. Then she washed her face, brushed her teeth and hair, and then shuffled out to see what kind of caffeine the kitchen might hold. She couldn't face post-sex anxiety without some wake-up juice. She knew there was no coffee, but even an old, forgotten tea bag would have been welcome.

The first thing she saw was Nate's note, propped up on the little kitchen table. Went for food. Be back soon.

She read it three times before she understood what it meant.

He hadn't snuck out after getting what he wanted from her. He hadn't left her to fend for herself with a stale teabag left in the corner of a cupboard. He was out finding her food to bring back, like some kind of smitten caveman.

She didn't know what to do with that. She understood him leaving after sex. She understood him leaving her to fend for herself. But she didn't understand why he was still taking care of her after he'd gotten laid.

Was he really just that nice? Or was she simply reading into his actions what she wanted to see?

Sex with him had made her stupid. She couldn't trust her judgment around him—not after knowing how hard he could make her come.

How tight he held her after it was over.

Hanna shook her head almost violently, working to shrug off the childish, romantic notions that filled her head.

She didn't understand why he was still taking care of her, but there had to be a reason. She didn't need to spend hours figuring it out. She just had to accept that there was still something he wanted from her.

If she was lucky, it would be more sex, because she could really get behind that.

No, her inner voice warned. Sex makes you stupid. You can't afford to be stupid.

That was a true story if ever she'd heard one. She'd made far too many excuses for men's bad behavior simply because she was screwing them. She was done repeating past mistakes. If she wanted a different outcome, she had to take a different course of action.

Her panties were staying on.

With that decision made, Hanna slipped a loose shirt over her cami—no way was she letting a bra strap rub over her stitches—and got dressed. Now that she was clad in cotton armor, she felt more able to keep her promise to herself.

By the time she was ready to face the world, she heard the crunch of tires on broken concrete.

Nate was back.

Her heart sped in anticipation of his appearance. She tried to tell herself that she was simply hungry and that he'd promised food, but she knew better than that.

She was excited to see him again, like a teenager waiting for her first date to pick her up. It was a silly, childish way to feel, but she didn't know how to stop herself.

Hanna had always been her own worst enemy when it came to relationships.

Nate walked in like he owned the place, which she guessed he did. His handsome face was made even more stunning by his bright smile of greeting.

"Good morning, sunshine."

Even in yesterday's rumpled clothes and sporting shadows of fatigue under his eyes, and beard stubble on his jaw, he was still the most alluring, sexy man she'd ever witnessed.

Her thighs clenched as she remembered just how good it had felt to ride him into oblivion. And to have him do the same to her.

"Good morning," she greeted, her tone a bit more reserved than his.

His smile faltered. "Are you okay? Is your shoulder hurting?"

He started toward her, but she stepped back. "I'm fine. Just hungry."

He looked skeptical, but accepted her statement as fact. "Let me change your bandage and make sure you're healing well."

She almost refused, but she couldn't do the job herself and she really had to take care of her health above all else—even her heart.

She went wordlessly to the little bathroom where the supplies were and stripped out of her shirt. Even that movement hurt, but she managed to hide all signs of pain from him.

His green gaze was hot, his eyes heavily lidded as he came in and saw her wearing only the thin camisole. Her nipples puckered against her will, and a stirring of sexual need flickered low in her abdomen.

She gave him her back, more to hide her nipples than to offer herself up for his doctoring.

He slid the thin strap off her shoulder so slowly, she could feel the material brush past every fine hair on her skin.

A shiver raced up her spine, leaving goose bumps spreading out behind it.

He was careful with her as he changed the bandage, causing her as little pain as possible. When the job was done and he declared she was healing well—no infection—he lifted the thin strap back in place and stared at her in the mirror.

His big body seemed to loom over hers, like some kind of knight protector sworn to keep her safe. His hands were tan against her skin as he cupped her shoulders and pulled her back against his solid warmth.

Hanna closed her eyes to block out the intoxicating sight of his hands on her body. She remembered all too well how those hands could make her feel, and she owed it to herself to stay strong. Sex with him had already rocked her world. She couldn't afford to rock it any harder.

His lips brushed across the side of her neck, moving up toward the hollow behind her ear.

"We can't," she said, though her protest sounded weak even to her.

"Why not?"

"It was a mistake."

"Hardly. You certainly didn't think so last night."

He was weakening her defenses—defenses she needed to stay strong if she was going to make better decisions for herself.

If she kept sleeping with him, she was going to fall in love with him. She knew that about herself. Accepted it, even. But she was trying so hard to get back on her feet. Another broken heart was only going to make everything harder.

And it was already hard enough to start a new life in a new state where she knew no one.

"Please, Nate."

He pulled back slightly, but didn't let her go. His hands still held her shoulders gently, his thumbs stroking her skin like he couldn't get enough of her. "Okay," he said, his tone lighter than she would have expected. No irritation or anger, just him moving on. "I won't agree that sex with you was a mistake, but I will back off. For now."

That was all she could ask. "Thank you."

He gave her a wink and walked out of the bathroom. "Want to eat outside? It's glorious out there right now—way better than this crap hole."

If he thought this was bad, he would have never stepped foot into her last cheap apartment. That place made this one look like it belonged on the cover of an interior design magazine.

"Sure. Outside works for me."

She followed him out. As soon as the cool morning air hit her face, she pulled in as much of it as would fit in her lungs. It smelled fresh and green and filled with the hope of a new day.

Already, her mood was lighter.

"Do you have plans for the day?" he asked.

"Just work."

He frowned at that as he sat on the top porch step of the Yellow Rose. "It's Sunday. You should take the day off."

"I'd rather work. You know I need the money for Rex."

Nate opened the white paper sack and handed it to her. "You pick."

She went straight for the triangular thing on top, having spied the blueberries. Coffee followed her first delightful bite, and all was right in the world.

"I'd feel better if you didn't push yourself today. Give your shoulder time to heal and all. Besides, I can guarantee you that Declan isn't working on Rex today. He's probably still hung over from last night, lounging around with whichever three women he took home."

"Jealous?" she asked, teasing.

Nate's gaze went soft as he looked into her eyes. "There are no three women in the world combined who could hold a candle to one of you, honey."

Something in her chest went still, lurched, then started working again. She thought it might be her heart, but that seemed far too sappy for a girl who wasn't getting emotionally involved.

She ducked her head, averting her gaze and struggling to find a response that fit his sweet statement.

"Nate," she began.

He touched her lips with his finger to silence her. "I made you uncomfortable. I'm sorry. Change of subject." His tone went brisk, businesslike. "There's something I'd like to show you today, maybe get your professional opinion."

"What is it?"

He pulled off a bite of muffin and popped it into his mouth. "My dream. Or my nightmare, depending. That's why I want your opinion."

"How am I supposed to know which it will be if you don't?"

He gave her a lopsided grin. "Have I made you curious enough to come with me yet?"

Hanna laughed, loving the way he could sweep her away from her worries and give her a mystery to ponder. "Do I have a choice?"

"Not really. Grab the food and come on. I promise you won't be disappointed."

Deep down she was starting to wonder if a day spent with him could ever be disappointing.

Just like that, she pulled herself back in and put up her guard. Nate was charming and sexy and sweet, but she couldn't forget that this was just a fling. Men like him didn't have more than that with women like her. It was best she remembered that.

They ate and drank coffee on the way into town. He hit one particularly deep rut in the road, and her coffee sloshed through the small hole and splattered on the leather seat.

He saw it and laughed. "Anyone ever tell you you're hard on upholstery?"

She took his good-natured ribbing in stride. "Rex doesn't complain."

"I'm not sure that beast has any upholstery left to complain about. He's all bare threads and rust."

"And I love every bit of it." She wiped off the coffee with a spare napkin. "Where is this mysterious dream-slash-nightmare of yours?"

"It's right up ahead, set high on a cliff overlooking the lake." He pointed to a rolling hill ahead of them. "Look through the trees that way and you might be able to catch a glimpse."

She tried to see where he was taking her, but all she saw was hills, trees, rocks and maybe a blur of something pale in the distance. It could have been a limestone rock face she'd seen a lot of in this area, but it was gone too fast for her to be sure.

They turned off the main road onto a wide, paved driveway. The asphalt had seen better days, but it had been repaired recently—at least within the past few years. Stout oaks lined the drive, which slithered back and forth like a snake as it moved up the hill.

The area had been cleared and planted with grass, but it had been so long since it had been mowed, it looked more like pasture than lawn. Small trees and bushes dotted the field, creating darker pools of green in the waving grass.

Nate took a tight turn, and finally, she saw why she was here.

The building wasn't huge by today's standards, but it was probably the biggest structure for miles in any direction. Smooth, sloping curves melded seamlessly with tall, proud lines in a glorious example of Art Nouveau architecture.

High, arched windows were topped with intricate stained-glass motifs of swooping leaves and bright, curling flowers. Double front doors echoed those motifs, but were even more intricate.

The building was three stories tall, made of what looked like limestone blocks. Her pale face was adorned with Juliette balconies outside of every room above the ground floor. The ornate wrought iron railings were in disrepair, but they more than made up for the rust and blistering paint in the sheer craftsmanship of them. Intricate grapevines wound up, forming the frame, while big, flat leaves connected the structure together. Curling tendrils that had once graced the ironwork had broken off in several places, leaving twisted knots of metal to litter the ground beneath.

Her name was emblazoned above the front doors in gold foiled letters, tarnished, but still proud: THE OPHELIA GRAND HOTEL.

"Wow," was all Hanna could say.

"I know. She's a beauty, isn't she?"

"How did this get here? I mean, who builds a place like this in a place like this?"

Nate nodded in understanding. "The original owner was a little eccentric and a lot wealthy. His young wife died in childbirth, and he wanted a way to honor her memory. He came out here in the thirties to heal and grieve, and ended up on this spot. The story was that he stood on top of this ridge, overlooking the river below, screaming at God for the injustice of his wife's death. Fishermen below heard his shouts and were sure he was insane. No one knows exactly what happened up here, but when he came down, he was a changed man. Calm, driven, relentless in his pursuit to leave behind the perfect monument for his wife."

Hanna looked at the hotel with a different perspective. She could see now the attention to detail in every block of stone and pane of glass. Even the downspouts were a thing of beauty, depicting women holding pitchers that would overflow with water in a rain.

"Want to see inside?" Nate asked. "The view from the back is amazing."

"If it's anything like the view from out here, I'm in."

He dug into his pocket for a set of keys and led the way.

As she neared the building, she could see more signs of age. The stones were pitted and stained in places. The curling fronds of wrought iron holding up the railing on the wide steps leading to the front door wobbled under her grip. There were several broken panes of glass, though someone had covered the more expensive panels with clear plexiglass to protect them from vandals with rocks. Sadly, even that was scratched and fogging with age, obscuring the beauty it protected.

Nate had to jiggle the key to get it to turn, and when it did, the front door needed a hard shove to get it to open.

"How do you have the keys? Does your family own this place?" she asked.

"Oh hell, no. Grace Construction wouldn't touch this place with a ten-foot backhoe. Not unless it was to tear it down."

Even the idea of that made her scone slosh around dangerously in her gut. "Anyone who would destroy such a thing of beauty needs to be whipped."

"I don't necessarily disagree, but you should reserve judgment until you've seen the whole place." He led the way inside, stepping carefully as if worried the floor might collapse beneath him.

As soon as her eyes adjusted to the relative darkness of the hotel lobby, she understood why he was worried.

The place was a beautiful, tragic wreck—like an old Hollywood starlet left dead and bloody on the side of the road.

Everywhere Hanna looked was filled with the most elaborate, ornate woodwork she'd ever seen. A grand, two-story bas-relief graced the wall behind the front desk, but sections of it were missing, like puzzle pieces. The rest of it had been painted in garish carnival colors, and whoever had done it couldn't even paint inside the lines.

The front desk itself was made from slabs of onyx. Several cracks had formed along the surface, and one corner had been chipped off and lay on the floor, discarded. Heavy drapes covered the wall of windows opposite the entrance, and they were littered with a scattering of holes. All the furniture here was still arranged as if expecting guests to arrive at any moment. It was period or a good replica of the Art Nouveau style, but it all needed some help. The upholstery was threadbare, torn and chewed by mice. The wood finish was scuffed and dull. Some of the pieces had broken legs or missing ornamentation.

The floors were tiled, with a central mosaic done in what looked like chips of gemstones that formed stylized tulips and vines. The grout was cracked and some of the stones were missing. The rest of the floor was in bad shape, with plenty of chipped tiles and sections that had been replaced with modern stuff off the shelf of the closest home improvement store.

Grand, gilded chandeliers were mounted from the towering ceilings and delicate sconces hugged the walls. The wallpaper behind them was peeling and discolored, but it was too new to be original anyway.

On the far side of the lobby was a pair of doors in front of the elevator, with a detailed openwork depicting peacocks on each. The tarnished metalwork was eight feet high, and bent in several places as if bumped repeatedly by luggage carts. One of the doors hung loose on a hinge, but Hanna could see the glory of what it had once been when new and shiny.

Nate gave her several minutes to take it all in before he asked. "What do you think?"

So many things. Her hands itched to get at the place. The need to return it to its former glory burned in her chest like a hot coal.

"She's on life support, but she can be fixed with enough time, love and money."

He nodded. "The rest of it is more of the same. The rooms were renovated in the nineties, but the work was shoddy. They stripped out a lot of the original fixtures and replaced them with the same stuff you find at the average Holiday Inn."

"Tell me they didn't throw all the original fixtures away."

"There are some in the basement, but most of them are in bad shape."

"Can I see?" she asked.

"Sure."

He grabbed a flashlight out of the truck and gave her the grand tour.

The Ophelia was barely hanging on to her identity. The outside and lobby had retained their original grace and detail, but the rooms had been all but gutted. Standing inside each unit, it was hard to remember that just beyond the walls was a glowing sliver of the past, just begging for a breath of life.

Nate pushed open the curtains in one of the rooms along the back wall of the hotel.

The view was beyond anything she could have imagined in this part of the country. She could see for miles—rolling green mountains, brilliant blue skies, the deep crevice where the river had been dammed and turned into a lake decades ago. The silver surface of it snaked through the hills, winding a glistening, serpentine path through the forest.

"A dozen rooms have this view. Six more on the first floor have it to a lesser extent. There used to be elaborate gardens here, but they've all grown up wild and weedy. The patio is in decent shape, though."

They finished the tour in the basement, taking note of what was left from the remodel. There were a few tubs still intact, but all the sinks were missing. A lot of light fixtures, lamps and desks still remained, but they were almost all in need of repair.

She looked around at the cavernous space, letting the cool air sink into her overheated skin.

"So?" he asked. "What do you think? Dream or nightmare?"

"I'm honestly not sure. Is the owner wanting to hire you to oversee the restoration?"

"No, I'm thinking about buying her."

Hanna had to sit down. Even the thought of that was as overwhelming as it was exciting. "Buying?"

"There aren't many people interested in the old place. The owners could sell the land for condos tomorrow, but that's not what they want. They don't want anyone to tear her down. That's the only reason I have a shot. They're giving me a few weeks to make a bid before they put her on the market."

"And I thought the Yellow Rose was ambitious."

"Come on. Let's get you some air. You look like you could use it."

They went back out into the hot sunshine. Hanna tipped her face up and breathed in the fresh air. As the smell of old wood and moth balls emptied from her lungs, all she wanted was to go back in and take another breath.

So much history there. So many memories. She could almost feel them screaming at her for a chance to live again.

She sat down on the carved stone steps. Nate lowered himself beside her.

"I'm crazy, aren't I?" he asked. "It's too big a job for one man."

"It is that, but we're talking about something rare here. A slice of local history. How often does the chance to restore something like this come around?"

"I can't be overly emotional about it, though. If I am, I'm likely to lose my life's savings."

"Okay. That's smart," she agreed. "We're still talking about a prime piece of real estate in an area that is a tourist magnet. You run a motel. Do you have trouble keeping it full?"

"Never—at least not from April, when the fishing starts to get good, until October, after the fall cave festival is over."

"Could the town use another hotel?"

"I could buy three more and keep them booked between Memorial Day and Labor Day."

"Would the people who come to the lake be willing and able to foot the bill for a place like this? I mean, I don't want to insult your lovely motel, but this is a different level of guest altogether."

"Definitely. And I've spent a lot of time thinking and researching. We get millions of visitors from all over the country to this area. There are a few nicer hotels, and they're always full. Besides, fully restored, she'd be her own tourist attraction."

"No question about that. But how long will that take?"

"I'd have to hire a crew, of course, but even with full-time help, it would take at least twenty-four months to get through the outside, the lobby and public areas, and half of the rooms. Any fewer rooms than that and I can't book enough guests to afford to pay a hotel staff to keep the place running."

"It's a huge decision," she said, still reeling at the sheer scope of the work that had to be done.

"That's why I wanted your opinion. You're one of the few people I know who don't automatically want to throw away something because it's old. You see the value in restoration over remodeling, so if you say she's a lost cause, then I'll know to walk away."

She blinked at him, stunned that he would put so much faith in her. "You haven't known me long enough to trust my opinion that much. It's too big a decision."

He took her hand in his, twining his fingers between hers. He felt so strong and solid, so capable and steady. If he didn't know what the right thing to do was, how could she?

The trust he put in her was humbling. She owed it to him to give him the best advice she could.

"Have you run the numbers?" she asked. "Figured out either what a hotel like this can pull in or what it will be worth if you sell it completely restored?"

"I wouldn't sell," he said. "I might hire a manager to run the place—one who knows more about high-end hotels than me—but if I restore her, I'd keep her."

"I don't think I could stand to part with something I put that much of myself in, either."

"But to answer your question, yes, the numbers work out as long as I stay within a budget for the restoration. And a timeline. I don't have the cash to buy her outright, so I'd have to make loan payments."

"Have you got the loan nailed down?"

"If I finish the Yellow Rose before this place goes on the market, then I'll use the proceeds from that for the down payment."

"How long do you have to decide?"

"I've been thinking about it for months. The owner has been keeping it off the market for me to get my ducks in a row, but he's getting antsy. There are other people out there who would want a shot at her."

But none of them would love her the way Nate did. Hanna could see it in his face, hear it in his tone when he talked about the hotel. To him, this was a labor of love as much as it was a business decision.

"I'd do it," she said in a small, uncertain voice. She didn't want to sway his opinion too much, because he knew the numbers better than she did and she'd never run so much as a doggie daycare, much less a hotel. But he'd asked her opinion, and she owed him at least that much for all he'd done for her.

"I'd do it," she said again, louder, more confident. "How many chances like this are you going to get? And if things go sideways, you can always sell the land to one of those condo developers, right?"

"It would break my heart, but yeah, if push came to shove, I could at least repay the loan that way."

"If you don't take the chance, you'll always wonder what if." She hadn't known him for years, but she knew at least that much about him. "And if someone came in and tore her down without you trying to save her, you'd never forgive yourself."

"That's definitely true."

"And in the end, it's just money, right? I've lost my shirt and lived to tell the tale. More than once." She gave him a sideways grin. "Which is why you probably shouldn't be taking advice from me. I'm not exactly the best example of business done right."

"What happened?" he asked.

"Jack." She shook her head. "It's a long, boring story, but the moral is that you should never get in business with the same person you get in bed with."

"The voice of reason, huh?"

"The voice of experience. And now that you and I have crossed that line, you really shouldn't trust my opinion about your business. You'll never know if I'm just telling you what you want to hear or giving you advice that serves me better than it does you."

He stroked her face with a single finger. "I'm a better judge of character than that. Besides, you're not telling me anything I don't already know. It's just good to hear it from the lips of someone else."

Hanna only hoped that he wouldn't look back on this moment one day and wished that she'd stopped him from making a huge mistake.