Chapter Two
Unable to sleep, Ella stared wide-eyed at the ceiling of her bedroom, watching the shadows on the walls shift from the gray of night to the first light of dawn as the morning sun started to rise on a brand-new day. A day she’d imagined would be much different and more exciting than the one she was about to face now that her plans for the adjoining building to her father’s market had come crashing down around her in the form of Kyle Coleman . . . the first guy she’d ever loved and had never truly gotten over, despite the way things had ended between them.
She was still in a state of disbelief at seeing him after so many years, not to mention feeling like a fool for thinking that no one else wanted the old, decrepit building. She’d actually thought her bid was just a technicality to ensure that the property was hers. Absolutely nothing had prepared her for losing the one thing she’d had her sights set on for the past five years so she could finally expand Fisher’s Grocery into something more. And she certainly hadn’t been braced to see the gorgeous man who still had the ability to make her feel breathless and weak-kneed when she should have gotten over him a long time ago.
She released a loud growl of frustration as she punched the pillow next to her, grateful that her father slept on the opposite side of the house so she didn’t wake him up with all her tossing and turning and cursing during the course of the night. She’d already been bombarded with angry questions from her only parent that she hadn’t been able to answer as soon as she’d gotten home last night after closing the market. What did Kyle want with the building? Had he purchased the place out of spite so Ella couldn’t claim it? Why after all these years would he want anything that tied him to Woodmont when he lived his life in Chicago?
Ella honestly didn’t know, but she wondered all those things, too. She’d heard that he’d become one of those guys who bought old houses and buildings and renovated them to resell, but anyone who lived in Woodmont knew there weren’t any big profits to be had in redeveloping commercial property here. Not like there was in the city, where real estate was at a premium. The town was small, the residents set in their ways, and what else did they need that other businesses didn’t already provide?
Everything about Kyle’s interest in Piedmont’s building was a mystery, and her emotions were still running the gamut from the elation she was so sure she’d feel to the depths of confusion and anger she’d plummeted to. The shock of everything was starting to wear off and and reality was beginning to sink in, but there was no denying that she was now overwhelmed with resentment . . . and ashamed to admit that she was too damn aware of all the changes in Kyle, who’d grown from the cute, boyish teenager she’d been so smitten with despite her father’s warning to stay away from him, to the impressive man he was now with a presence that was commanding and confident.
A decade later, and Kyle was utterly drop-dead gorgeous, his features more masculine and mature and handsome. She even begrudgingly admitted that the neatly trimmed beard on his face added to his rugged appeal, and for a moment she pondered what it might feel like against her fingertips . . . or skimming along her thighs. Course and bristly or soft and ticklish?
Shifting restlessly beneath the sheets, she groaned and closed her eyes, unable to stop herself from conjuring the image of him standing there yesterday in his tight black T-shirt stretching across his broad shoulders and wide chest, with his tanned arms folded in front of him, biceps flexing and bad-boy tattoos on display, and looking so freaking hot. Everything about him intrigued her, and just thinking about him now elicited a tingling warmth of awareness to course through her veins.
And yeah, the fact that Kyle Coleman still had that kind of sensual effect on any part of her body pissed Ella off even more than she already was.
Her alarm went off right on time at five a.m., and she reached over to her nightstand to shut it off instead of hitting the snooze button a few times like she normally did. This morning, she wanted to be out the door before her father woke up to avoid another interrogation about Kyle when she had no answers that would satisfy her dad. The last thing she needed was him getting worked up again and raising his blood pressure or worse. He already blamed one Coleman brother for the stroke he’d had that had left him with permanent nerve damage that had also affected his fine motor skills, and she didn’t need Kyle’s actions yesterday to be the cause of something equally tragic. Even if inadvertently.
She forced herself up and into the shower and was out of the house within a half hour, secure in the knowledge that Betsy, the woman who helped take care of her father and the house during the day, would be there in an hour to start breakfast for her dad, even before he had a chance to wake up.
Ella made it to the market before the first scheduled delivery of the morning arrived at six a.m., and for the next hour, her mind was occupied with signing for the steady stream of daily perishables the store had on a standing order. By seven, Fisher’s Grocery’s longtime manager, William, showed up, as well as half a dozen other employees who were scheduled to work their shifts for the day. With William now in charge, she headed into the office at the back of the store and closed herself inside. She had some difficult phone calls to make, to people she’d made promises to . . . when she’d been so certain the adjoining building would belong to her.
One by one, she made her way through the list of local artisans she’d discussed consignment arrangements with for their various products, to let them know that the expansion would not be happening and she had no room in the actual market to carry their merchandise. Their disappointment was as keen as her own. By the time she was done with the painful calls, she was frustrated all over again that Kyle had stolen something that would have been hers and hers alone.
Not her family’s. Not her father’s. Hers.
Beyond miffed, she made an unhappy sound and tossed her pencil onto her desktop just as Claire, her best friend and bookkeeper for Fisher’s Grocery, walked into the office wearing a white eyelet blouse, pink capris, and a pair of flats, her blonde hair perfectly styled in a silky chin-length bob that looked fabulous on her. As always, she looked fresh and pretty compared to Ella’s normal jeans-and-T-shirt attire that usually ended up dirty from manual labor by the end of the day.
Her friend raised a brow at Ella’s sullen expression as she hung her purse from a hook on the wall, then settled into a chair in front of the desk. She crossed one long leg over the other, and just like any good friend would do, she didn’t sugarcoat her next comment.
“Sorry to have to tell you this, but you look like hell.”
“I feel like hell,” Ella said as she pressed the tips of her fingers against her temple, where a nagging headache had been pestering her all morning. “I barely slept last night, and on top of that, I feel like an ass for making promises to so many businesses that I had to turn around and break.”
Her idea to expand her family’s store to include more handcrafted items from local vendors—such as organic cheeses, breads, seasonings, and even maple syrups and jams and jellies—had been well received by the town, and she loved the thought of supporting local artisans in the community. Her concept had been a daily farmer’s-market-type offering of goods that were gourmet and unique and would give shoppers the opportunity to purchase specialty items all in one place, rather than having to travel thirty miles or more to a big-box store. And as large as the building next door was, it would have given the market itself room to grow, as well.
So much for any of that.
“I’m really sorry,” Claire said, her tone sincere. “I know losing the building is tough on you, but you have to know it’s not your fault.”
She appreciated her friend’s sympathetic words, but they didn’t make her feel any better. “Maybe it is my fault,” Ella said, expressing the fact that she’d been second-guessing herself all night. “Maybe I should have been more prepared for someone else to bid on the building. At least have taken out a larger loan to have more money in reserve, just in case.” God, hindsight was such a bitch.
“Who would even want to own that ugly building?” Claire said with a small laugh. “I mean, other than you, of course.”
“That’s exactly what I thought, and look where that got me. Absolutely nowhere.” She opened a side drawer and withdrew the bottle of ibuprofen she kept stashed there and tapped a few of the tablets into her palm. “What could Kyle possibly want with the building when he hasn’t lived here for the past ten years? It’s hardly the kind of investment any shrewd or savvy developer would be interested in.” She tossed back the headache medicine, washed the pills down with water, and prayed for relief, and soon.
“Now that’s the two-hundred-and-twenty-five-thousand-dollar question, isn’t it?” Claire drummed her pink-painted fingernails on the arm of the chair, her expression thoughtful. “Bottom line, you want answers, and there’s only one person who can give them to you. So why don’t you go and get them?”
Ella frowned at her friend. “What do you mean?”
“Go right to the source,” Claire said with a shrug. “In this case, that would be Kyle.”
Go and confront Kyle? Claire’s idea was insane, and Ella quickly shook her head. “I don’t know how to get ahold of him. Where he lives or even the name of his company.”
A slow, mischievous smile curved the corners of Claire’s lips, making Ella immediately wary. “Well, you could head over to the Family Diner and ask his mother those questions, but since I know you’d never do that, let’s see what good ol’ Google has to say about a Kyle Coleman who lives and works in Chicago.”
Before Ella realized what her friend meant to do, Claire leaned across the desk and grabbed her cell phone. Ella quickly scrambled to retrieve it, but Claire sat back in her chair, out of arm’s reach.
“Hey, give me my phone back,” Ella demanded.
“In a sec.” Claire’s fingers tapped across the keyboard on the screen, and a moment later she glanced up at Ella with a triumphant grin. “Well, would you look at this,” she said in an irritatingly sweet drawl as she read the information she’d found. “Kyle Coleman. Redeveloper at Premier Realty. And there’s a phone number and a street address to his office.” She batted her lashes in feigned shock. “Who would have thought that he’d be listed on the Internet and so easy to find in this day and age?”
“You’re such a smartass,” Ella grumbled, though she was smiling.
“It’s why you love me.” Claire’s green eyes sparkled with humor. “You work too hard, you’re way too serious, and I keep things lively around here.”
“Yeah, okay, whatever.”
Ella rolled her eyes, but the truth was, if it wasn’t for Claire, she’d probably have no real after-hours social life, and she wouldn’t laugh nearly as much as she did when she was around her best friend. Yes, she worked ten- to twelve-hour days and rarely took time off, and that’s pretty much how it had been since she’d taken on the responsibility of managing the market after her father’s stroke ten years ago. It had been the right thing to do because of his limitations, even if it had meant giving up her plans to go to college.
Between her and her self-centered, flighty sister, Gwen, Ella had always been the dependable one in the family, despite the fact that they were “Irish twins,” with Gwen being older by only ten months. Ella was the one who never colored outside the lines and always stepped up to take care of everyone else’s needs before her own. After their mother had passed away, she’d been the one to take on the task of cooking dinner every night, even though she’d only been thirteen at the time. She’d made sure her father’s clothes were laundered, that the house was picked up, and tried to keep her sister out of trouble so their father didn’t have to deal with Gwen’s numerous acts of teenage rebellion.
So yes, Ella had been the quintessential good girl—the one caveat to that being going against her father’s demand to stay away from Kyle Coleman during her senior year in high school. And in the end, what did she get for her one act of defiance? She’d been left with a shattered heart and her family’s life in an emotional upheaval. Although the upheaval had been more the fault of Gwen’s actions than her own, Ella had been left to deal with the fallout.
“Holy smokes,” Claire said in awe as she turned her phone toward Ella to show her the photo she’d found on the Premier Realty website. “Damn, Kyle Coleman is gorgeous. And hot. And built like a brick house, compared to how lean he was in high school.”
Ella wasn’t about to admit that she’d already spent part of last night obsessing over that good-looking face, those dark brown eyes, and the impressive muscles he’d developed over the years.
Claire swiped a few things on the face of the phone before giving it back to Ella. The photo was gone, and now on display was the address and phone number of Premier Realty highlighted for her to see.
She chewed her lower lip uncertainly before she met her friend’s gaze from across the desk. “So, you think I should call him?”
“No. That’s too easy and not bold enough,” Claire said, waving a dismissive hand in the air. “I think you should go to his office and look him in the eye when you ask him what you want to know. Maybe you could even offer him a bit more for the building to buy it from him. You didn’t have the cash on hand yesterday, but you know you could get a bank loan for the difference.”
The store’s credit was solid, their bills paid in full every month, and she was certain that she could get an increase on their line of credit for the investment back into the business. She definitely wanted the building that much, but what if she went to Kyle and he refused any offer she made? He’d outbid her yesterday without flinching at the cost, so what made her think he’d give up the property so easily now?
“I don’t know,” she said, hating the defeated way she sounded.
“That’s just it. You don’t know until you try,” Claire refuted in that confident, reasonable way of hers. “What if he’s willing to take a bit of a profit, hand over the building, and walk away? You’ll never know unless you make the offer, and if you don’t do this, you’ll always wonder what if.”
Claire’s advice, as always, was sound and logical. “Okay,” she agreed, but only to part of her friend’s suggestion. “I’ll call him.” It was a compromise.
Claire narrowed her gaze. “No calling. You need to do this in person, face-to-face. The element of surprise will throw him off-balance, just like he did to you yesterday. That could work in your favor.”
It was hard for Ella to imagine that anything would throw Kyle off his game, but there was another more important reason she hesitated to jump on Claire’s idea. “You know I hate going into the city.” Actually, hate was a mild word for how she felt about Chicago. Loathed was more like it.
Chicago was only an hour’s drive away, without any traffic, but the half dozen or so times that she’d gone into the city, she’d nearly had a legitimate anxiety attack. There were too many people around and all in one place, and the blend of sirens wailing, vehicles honking, and subways rumbling beneath her feet had been sensory overload when she was so used to her peaceful small town. Everything was too fast-paced, too overpopulated, and she’d been overwhelmed by all the tall buildings surrounding her. She always felt too closed in, like a panicked mouse in a maze with no way out.
The last time she’d been to Chicago had been a year ago with her fiancé, Tucker—an evening she’d agreed to because she’d hoped the different environment might make her see him in a new light. That maybe, hopefully, being somewhere with him that he’d deemed as romantic would spark some kind of real passion between them.
Instead, going into the city had made her realize two important things. One, she never wanted to go back if she could help it. And two, once she was sitting across from Tucker at the five-star restaurant where he’d made reservations for what should have been a seductive and amorous evening, she’d come to the difficult and painful realization that it could never work between them. Her phobia of the city and her breakup with Tucker soon after that had nothing to do with each other, but neither had been pleasant experiences she ever wanted to go through again.
“Don’t you think this is one trip that might be worth making?” Claire asked, cutting into her thoughts. Her tone was both understanding of Ella’s aversion to the city and a bit of tough love, too. “You can’t let that building go without some kind of fight. You’ve been planning the expansion for years, just waiting for Old Man Piedmont to pass on so his son could finally sell the place. Don’t you want to know that you did everything in your power to try and get the building, instead of wondering if you could have done more?”
God, why did Claire have to be so smart and truthful? And damn pushy, she tacked on for good measure. The last thing Ella wanted to carry around for the next thirty years was the regret of not knowing if the building could have been hers.
She exhaled a deep breath. “You’re right,” she muttered.
“Of course I am.” Claire flashed her a victorious smile. “So you need to do it. Today. Before too much time passes and you chicken out.”
“Okay, okay! Jesus, you’re one persistent broad,” Ella said with a laugh as she stood up. “I might as well go and get it over with.”
Claire wrinkled her nose as she visually appraised Ella’s faded jeans and old T-shirt attire. “Umm, you’re not going like that, are you?”
Seriously? “What’s wrong with how I look?”
“Did we not just establish that you look like hell?” Claire made an unappealing face. “You need to go home and do something with your hair instead of wearing it in that stuffy braid that makes you look like a spinster, and change into something that shows a little leg and cleavage.”
Ella gaped at her friend. What did it matter how she looked? “I’m not going there to seduce him, for crying out loud.” Besides, as gorgeous and citified as Kyle looked, she was sure he had a girlfriend, or at least a dozen beautiful women at his beck and call who captivated him better than she ever could.
“Not to seduce him,” Claire retorted with a devious smile. “To distract him.”
Ella braced her hands on her desk and raised a knowing brow at her friend. “Oh, kind of like how you wore that short skirt to your meeting with Nolan about your grandmother’s estate?”
“Oh, that wasn’t to distract him,” she replied slyly. “It was to prove a point, that these long legs have nothing to do with the Jolly Green Giant. And it worked, didn’t it? Which proves I’m right. Dress for success.”
“Considering how Nolan tormented you in high school, I can’t believe you’re going on a date with him.”
“Hey, it’s getting to be slim pickings around here,” Claire said, which was sadly true when it came to the selection of single men left to choose from in Woodmont. “Besides, he’s grown up, like we all have, and he’s not the jerk that he once was. Even if we just go out and have a good time and it leads to a hot and heavy hookup, I’m not about to complain. It’s been too freaking long since I’ve had an orgasm that wasn’t induced by my battery-operated boyfriend. There’s something to be said for getting fucked by real fingers, an agile tongue, and a true-to-life dick.”
Ella burst out laughing and shook her head, but she wholeheartedly agreed with her friend. “Yeah, I hear you.” It had been a year since her breakup with Tucker, and even when they’d been together, he hadn’t been overtly sexual, which had been part of the issue between them. Sure, sweet and kind and attentive were great attributes when it came to a man, but sometimes, a girl just wanted to be fucked hard and mindlessly . . . and not always in the same old missionary position. Her own vibrator had been more creative than Tucker ever had been, and always guaranteed an orgasm.
“You’ll hold down the fort for a few hours while I’m gone?” Ella asked Claire as she grabbed her purse from the hook on the wall.
“This place isn’t going anywhere, and we’ll survive a few hours without you.” Claire stood up and gave her a shooing motion with her hands. “Now go already.”
Ella headed for the door, thinking about what she could wear for her meeting with Kyle that was appropriate, then came to an abrupt stop. “Oh, crap, I can’t go home and change.” She turned around to face Claire again. “My father will know something’s up and he’ll bombard me with questions. I don’t want him to know that I’m going to talk to Kyle, either, because he’ll have a heart attack.” She winced when she realized what she’d just insinuated, considering her father had already had a stroke because of one Coleman brother’s actions.
“Yeah, bad choice of words,” Claire needlessly pointed out, the corner of her mouth kicking up in humor. “Go to my place instead. I’m sure you can find a skirt and blouse that will work. And our shoe size is the same. It’s not like you haven’t worn my clothes before.”
Ella exhaled a relieved breath. “True, and thank you.”
With luck, she’d be in and out of the city in no time, and once Kyle heard her reasons for wanting the building, he’d hopefully agree to sell it to her.
A girl could dream, couldn’t she?
* * *
Ella didn’t intend on driving into the city at three in the freaking afternoon, but just when she’d been about to leave the market to go and change at Claire’s, her manager, William, stopped her before she’d made it out to her car to let her know he’d just discovered a coolant leak in the refrigeration system. The temperatures in the coolers were steadily increasing, putting their dairy products and perishables at risk.
Their normal maintenance guy had arrived at the store a half an hour later and assured Ella the leak wasn’t a major repair and would only take a few hours. Could she have left William to handle the crisis? Probably, but considering the potential liability of losing thousands of dollars in food, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to go until she knew for certain everything was back up in working order. Which meant by the time she changed at Claire’s and hit the road, it was much later in the afternoon before she arrived in Chicago, instead of the earlier morning visit she’d anticipated.
While Ella had been talking to the technician about the cost of repair and what was required, Claire had taken it upon herself to call Premier Realty to inquire whether or not Kyle would be in the office so Ella didn’t make a wasted trip. The receptionist told her that Kyle would be in until six, and before the girl could ask her name, Claire said a quick good-bye and hung up the phone. She’d gotten the information she needed and happily passed it on to Ella—and she was grateful that her friend had thought ahead for her. The last thing she wanted to do was make the trek only to find out that Kyle wasn’t in for her to see.
Getting from Woodmont to Chicago hadn’t been too bad on the interstate, but now that she was navigating the inner city at five p.m., when rush hour was at its heaviest and everyone was eager to get home—not to mention a Friday night and the start to the weekend—the cluster of cars in such a close proximity had Ella’s entire body tense as she followed the directions she’d pulled up on Google Maps. The robotic female voice instructed her to make a left at the next light, and Ella must not have done it quickly enough for the person behind her, who laid on the horn, which in turn made her panic and cut in front of another vehicle, whose driver rightly flipped her off for the stupid move, because, yeah, she’d been that asshole who had nearly caused an accident.
Jesus Christ. Her heart was pounding and her palms were sweaty against the steering wheel by the time she finally made it to Kyle’s office building. Nerves frazzled, she turned into the underground parking structure that immediately made her feel claustrophobic, and pulled a ticket from the machine, which then allowed the lever to rise so she could drive into the confined space. Since it was after five, she easily found a spot, and as soon as she was parked, she killed the engine, unbuckled her seat belt, and gave herself five minutes to decompress and collect her composure before she had to face her nemesis.
When she finally felt like she wasn’t going to jump out of her skin, and her heart rate was back to normal, she got out of the car. She smoothed a hand down the skirt she’d confiscated from Claire’s closet as she headed for the bank of elevators, more than satisfied with her choice of outfit.
When she’d arrived at Claire’s house earlier and she’d looked through all her cute clothes, Ella came to the spontaneous decision that she wanted to look not just good for this meeting but exceptionally good—to show Kyle that she might be a small-town girl, but she could be just as sophisticated and sexy as any other woman in the city.
Yesterday, he’d seen her in faded jeans and a T-shirt that had to be at least five years old. Today, she intended to look like a confident woman in charge, and per Claire’s suggestion, she’d opted for a bit of cleavage, a flirty skirt, and heeled platform pumps that showed off her legs. Kyle was a man, after all, and she figured a little physical distraction wouldn’t hurt her cause.
She pressed the button for the elevator and actually smiled. Let the negotiations begin.