Granddad's House (On Geneva Shores) (8 page)

After following her home, Beau opened his car door for Olivia and handed her into the bucket seat, pleased that she had agreed to go to dinner with him.
Nice legs. Very nice legs.
As they drove to the restaurant, he glanced at her repeatedly whenever the traffic allowed, but remained silent.
What are you thinking, lovely Olivia?
The last woman who’d ridden in his car couldn’t compare in beauty or charm. Correction. Maybe in beauty, but he now knew her charm had been false. Olivia’s feistiness was a challenge he couldn’t resist.

“Why don’t you leave your briefcase in the car?” he suggested, when they arrived at the restaurant.

“No. We have business to conduct.”

“I thought we were going to have dinner, and then take care of business.” He smiled, daring her to look away.

“Business with dinner,” she insisted, pursing her lips.

“But aren’t we going to celebrate?” He helped her out of the car, happy to check out her legs again as she rose out of the deep seat.

“It’s not a celebration unless my grandfather’s decision is—well, what you want.” She grasped the briefcase. “Or what I want,” she added. “And then one of us will be happy. The other … not so much.” The tiny smirk playing about her mouth broadened when she looked back at him, suggesting she was looking forward to him losing.

He chose not to argue the point. “So you say.” He secured a table near the windows. When the wine steward arrived, Beau said, “My usual.”

“You come here often?” Olivia asked.

He nodded. “With clients, mostly.”

She remained silent, her fingers playing with the silverware on the table.

She’s nervous. M
aybe a little unsure of herself? Or nervous about me?
“What would you like?” he asked, after glancing at the menu. “My favorite is the surf and turf, but I suspect you might like something a little less hearty.”

She stared back at him, the lift of her chin and tilt of her head suggesting she was about to challenge him in some way. “Oh, really. You don’t think I might also want the surf and turf?”

“I never said that. It’s just that most women, that is, women your size, usually can’t handle that much food.” What was that gleam in her eye? “Maybe a salad, even a large one?” he encouraged.

“No. It’s been a long day and I’m starved. I think I’ll have the same as you.”

“As you wish.” He grinned.
You’re on, lady.

When the waiter arrived to take their order, he said, “Two surf and turf—the sixteen ounce versions.”
Olivia couldn’t possibly surround that and keep that tiny waist.
I’ll bet my two hands could span it completely.

A small gasp came from her side of the table. “I thought you were going to order the six-ounce size.”

He grinned. “I said I was hungry. If you can’t handle that much, I’ll call the waiter back.”

That luscious chin tilted upward again and her eyes sparked, taking the dare. “No. That’s fine.”

“So. What did your grandfather say? Has he accepted my offer?”

“Not exactly.” She seemed to relish telling him. “He needs more time.”

“I said I would wait until the end of the week.”

“That’s only two days away, and I—he won’t have the information he needs in that amount of time.” She began playing with her fork again before taking a quick sip of her wine.

“Cheers to you, too,” he said, lifting his glass to clink against hers before she could take a second sip.

“Yes, cheers.”

What
is
she waiting for?

This time, she took a gulp of wine, choked and began to sputter.

He chose to wait her out and topped off her wine glass. When she had cleared her throat, she gazed at him then narrowed her blue eyes.

“He wants me to find out about zoning and lot line adjustments, and permits pertaining to same—for the garden shed and the garage building.”

“Oh. Then he won’t have to wait long. I already have that information,” he replied, his voice calm, one eyebrow raised. “Would you like me to scan it to your office?”

“He wants
me
to get it, as a disinterested third party.” Her jaw seemed to be locking when she said the words.

Uh oh. Her temper was showing.
“You mean he doesn’t trust the information I have.”
Or
you
don’t trust it.

“I didn’t say that. But I
am
his representative in the sale of the property.”

The bouncing fork again.
He debated playing footsie with her when something grazed his leg, but decided against it.

“That doesn’t exactly make you a disinterested third party,
darlin’. Not only are you related to him, you’re going to make a nice chunk of change when this deal is done. As his representative.”
I can push back, too, Olivia.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Representative? Isn’t that what you are?” He affected innocence.

“
Darlin’.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t know you cared, Olivia.” Beau reached over to cover her hand with his, unable to conceal his smile.

She pulled away her hand, glared back at him, and when the salads arrived, attacked hers as if she hadn’t had a bite in weeks.

The better to prevent you from talking, my dear?
“Your grandfather calls you Livvy. That’s sweet. Olivia seems so formal. May I call you Livvy, too?”

“No!” In between bites, she added, “He shouldn’t have told you that.”

“He said you were named after your grandmother.”

“Both of them, actually,” she confirmed.

“It’s nice when children are named after their relatives.” He began a leisurely ingestion of his salad, glancing at her as he ate, noting that her eyes seemed fixed on her food. Perhaps to avoid looking at him?

She took another gulp of her wine, finishing her glass.

“You must like this vintage. It’s one of my favorites, too.” He reached for the bottle and added more wine to her glass.

She started to nod, and then looked up as if startled. “Oh! No. No, thanks.”

“But our meal isn’t even here.”

“That’s all right. I’ll stick with water.” She seemed to be breathing rapidly, and her face was flushed.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Fine.” But she refused to look at him, and she had no more salad to distract her from doing so. She reached for the wine glass again before detouring to the water glass.

“Then perhaps we should talk about zoning while we wait,” he suggested.

Before they could do so, the waiter arrived with their meal, momentarily distracting Olivia. He watched as she alternated forkfuls of steak with the sea bass on her plate.
Where does she stow it away?
She was nearly done with her food before he had eaten half of his.

She had misplaced a tiny piece of food at one corner of her mouth. He debated whether to say something to her, or simply kiss it off, opted for a smile instead and the hint of a napkin brushed against the corner of his mouth. She missed the subtlety or chose to ignore it and continued attacking what was left on her plate.

“Would you like some of mine? It seems you were hungrier than me,” he remarked.

“Uh. No thanks. I’m fine,” she said, but she didn’t look fine. In fact, the flush on her cheeks seemed to have deepened. She reached for her water glass.

“So, tell me why your grandfather wants to know about zoning and permits. I shared with him what I already know—as far as it pertains to his property.”

She frowned at that. “Figures,” she said under her breath and looked up at him. “I mean—he wanted me to find out, to confirm whether what you said was accurate.”

“I see.” He reached into his pocket. “I seem to have left my cell in the car. Could you excuse me for a minute?”

She gave him a quick nod.

He went to the reservations desk and was directed to an outside line. “George, could you come to the Salmon House? I’m here with the realtor for the Brown property.”

“Trying to soften her up? Or is this a personal meeting at the bar?”

“We’re having a business dinner. She was asking about the zoning and permit information we obtained. I want to show it to her.”

“I’ll bet you do,” George teased. “When do you want it?”

“As soon as you can get here.”

When Beau returned, the table was empty, although Olivia’s coat was still lying in the corner of her side of their booth along with her briefcase. He sipped his wine and picked at the remains of the sea bass on his plate as the sun went down over the marina.  He spent the time mentally comparing the physical attributes of Olivia and Heidi, his fiancé and almost-wife, a world-class mistake he’d barely rectified in the nick of time, thanks to George. Olivia won hands down, not even counting that she hadn’t tried to take him for a financial ride, and didn’t seem inclined to, though his offer represented something she should have jumped at.
My fault. I should have been more circumspect about our plans for the house.
But how was he to know it was her grandfather’s home? Now Olivia suspected his motives, professional and business. Not that he didn’t enjoy teasing her, but his desire to get to know her was growing with each encounter.

Several minutes later, his partner approached the table.

“There you are!” George slid into the seat previously occupied by Olivia. “I thought you were having dinner with the realtor.”

“She seems to have disappeared—I suspect to the women’s room, though she’s been gone a rather long time. Did you bring it?”

“Right here.” George nodded and patted his inside coat pocket. “Oh! Hello.” He reached out his hand to shake Olivia’s when she approached the table. He moved aside so that she could sit down.

“Dessert, Olivia?” Beau offered, bemused that she seemed to be under the weather, a slightly greenish tinge to her coloring, her eyes looking bloodshot.

She shook her head. “No thanks.” She slid gingerly into the seat, eyeing George.

“I believe you know my partner, George Dunston. He brought over what we know about the zoning in your grandfather’s neighborhood, and the necessary permits to separate the main house from those two small dwellings at the back of the property.”

She squinted at the pages and seemed to be having trouble focusing on them.

“Would you like some coffee or tea?” Beau offered. “George, would you like to join us—at least finish off the bottle?”

“My favorite pinot grigio? Don’t mind if I do,” he replied cheerily. He pulled a chair closer from a nearby table.

Olivia looked over at Beau. “Excuse me,” she said, breathing fast, and she rushed away from the table a second time.

“What’s the matter with her? She looks ill.”

“My guess is she ate too much. Maybe on top of too much wine.” He upended his wine glass and poured the rest of the bottle into the glass the waiter had brought when George joined him. “Drink up. She said she didn’t want any more.”

George looked at him sidelong and grinned. “You are a bad man, Beau. Trying to get that woman drunk.”

“I did no such thing. I invited her to dinner, so we could talk about my offer. All she’s said so far is that her grandfather wants more information about the zoning and permits. I suspect she had some trouble getting it, or maybe she wasn’t familiar with what she needed to ask regarding our plans for subdivision. That’s why I called you—so she could see what we already know. I figured that would help her grandfather say yes.” He looked into the warm brown eyes of his partner. “Mostly because Miss Olivia doesn’t want him to sell to us.”

“Why is that? You of all people would preserve the buildings.”

“She doesn’t know that, and she told me he wants a family to buy it. She was not pleased when I mentioned making the main house a B&B when I viewed it the day of the open house, but I had no idea it would be an issue. My mistake, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll bet you came on too strong—trying to keep her at arms’ length.” George smirked. “Post Heidi.”

Beau barely nodded.  “A tactical error on my part. Do you suppose she recognized you, from that first viewing you did the day before I saw it?”

George shook his head. “She didn’t seem to just now.” He looked up when Beau’s shoulder rose in Olivia’s direction as she wove her way unsteadily in the direction of the table.

“Here she comes. Maybe you should take her home and put her to bed—
er, let me rephrase. To her home, so she can sleep off whatever’s bothering her.” George grinned. “I have a feeling you might have something else in mind.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter. You know I never mix business with pleasure.”
Especially not after Heidi.
Beau smiled. “Not on the first date, anyway. Besides, this isn’t a date, just a business dinner. Good-bye, George.”
And right now, a date’s the last thing on Olivia Brown’s mind, especially with me.
But George’s idea clearly had merit.