Half Moon Harbor (32 page)

Brodie nodded.

“So what happens if your deal with her father falls through?”

“It hasn't yet, no matter Cami's histrionics. Winstock really wants this, and I'm not so sure he's willing to let his spoiled brat of a daughter ruin it for him. If he wants the schooner here, he's going to have to work with me to gain deep-harbor access and docking, even if someone else builds the boat. I may not have cleared the remaining buildings with the tax office yet, but the big docks are mine. I took care of that when I made sure my boathouse was secure. He'd have to go to Blue, and I don't see that happening. Blue won't have any part of that deal, especially when he finds out what else Winstock wants.”

“Which is?”

“A yacht club.” Brodie motioned in the direction of the bigger boathouse. “He wants to turn the big place into some high-dollar boys' club, but I've already got a way around that. He can run the schooner trips here, and have his little club around the cove where it's quieter. Plenty of places to tie up the kinds of boats his mates will be sailing. I need the big house for the lumber mill, so if he wants his schooner, he can't have the boathouse. It's as simple as that.”

Grace took in all this information, then decided it was just too much to sort through and shelved it for later. “You think there's still a chance you'll build it?”

“I honestly don't know. It will all come down to whether Winstock wants to be a businessman or a father. I'm pretty sure that even as spoiled as his daughter is, he didn't get to be the powerful man he is by letting his own interests take a backseat.”

“You trust him? To deal squarely with you?”

“I trust the attorney I'll hire to do the contract.” Brodie slid a glance at her. “How are you at contract law?”

“Not my specialty,” she said with a wincing smile. “But I know folks who are very good at it and can possibly recommend someone up here. If my former coworkers don't, I'm sure Langston can.” She snapped her fingers. “Wait, that's it!” She looked at Brodie and put the ice pack down. “Langston is college buddies with Brooks Winstock. They went to Harvard together. I don't know how close they were or if that was just Cami being Cami, but Langston could definitely bring some leverage to the table.” Grace sat back, inordinately pleased with herself. Then she realized Brodie wasn't smiling. He was looking at her with something close to a stunned expression. “What? I'm not kidding. Langston's clout makes Brooks Winstock's power look like—”

“No no, it's not that. In fact, that's bloody brilliant.”

“So, what is it then?”

“You'd do that? I mean, this is your chance to get back to that idyllic setting you were hoping for. No big schooner, no big shipyard.”

“Yes, well, you're assuming Cami won't just burn my place down.” Grace leaned forward when his expression instantly tightened. “I'm kidding. Maybe you're right and we should spread the word a little on Cami's threats, just so the local authorities are on their toes.” She looked back at him and her smile faded. “I know my initial vision is going to change. But what the heck? Everything has changed since I've gotten here. I don't recognize a single thing about my life. And every bit of the change is in the very best way possible.”

She stood and held out her hand. He took it, and she tugged him up, then walked into his arms. “I have no idea where the ship deal and the inn deal will go after Cami's fury and Langston's possible intervention—which he will relish by the way.
Relish.
I don't know what's next. I do know one thing, though.”

Brodie tugged her in closer, then wrapped his arms around her. “What is that?”

“The moment Cami put her hands on you, I wanted them off.” Grace deliberately put her hands on his chest and smoothed them slowly to his shoulders, then around his neck, and raked her fingers up into his hair.

He groaned. “You have all day to stop doing that.”

“I was hoping for a lot longer. Not only did I not want her hands on you, but I'm pretty sure I don't want anybody else's hands on you, either.” She tipped up on her toes and kissed his mouth, then nipped at his bottom lip. “Except mine,” she whispered against his lips.

“And here I thought having Cami over was a really bad idea,” he murmured, then laugh-winced when she rapped him lightly in the shins with her booted toe.

He spun her around, lifting her feet off the floor before she could aim another kick, then pulled her in and kissed her soundly, deeply . . . and quite confidently. When he lifted his head, Grace saw that same deep sparkle she'd noted once before, only there were no shutters on it holding back even a sliver of what he was feeling.

“You know what? I don't care if you say it,” he told her.

Her whole body started to shake. She knew, without a doubt, where he was going. And she didn't even try to stop him.

“I don't care if you ever say it, which is an utter lie even as it trips right off my tongue. I sure as hell never thought I'd be the first one to say it, but God almighty, Christ in heaven, I love you, Grace Maddox.”

The sensation that shot through her straight to her toes was unmitigated joy. Grace had never once heard those words in her entire life. And she was thrilled about that fact . . . because she'd saved the best for first . . . and last.

Part of her wanted to gush the declaration right back, but it was his moment. She kind of liked that he'd gone that far out on a limb for her. She knew from the broad grin on his handsome, sexy face that he was pretty damn proud of himself, too. So she let him keep all the thunder. And simply reveled in it.

“Well,” she said, toying with the hair on his neck, reveling also in that little shudder of pleasure she felt ripple over him every time she did it. “Next time, it would help if you'd at least look like you wanted to fend her off. Or even, you know, actually physically did that. She's fierce, but if I can take her, I'm pretty sure you could, too. You know, not in the biblical sense, but”—she whooped out a laughing squeal as he scooped her over his shoulder—“like that!” She crowed. “Only maybe more in a dragging her out by her ankles kind of way. Or by her hair.”

“Bloodthirsty little wench,” he said, sounding fairly approving about it. “I was just about to do . . . something. Honest. I just couldn't switch gears fast enough and she—”

“Was all up in your very aroused business, I know. You men, so controlled by that one little thing.”

“Little, ye say? Really?” He made his way up the iron steps to the loft without once hitting her head on anything, then laughed when she smacked his ass.

“So sensitive. Frail ego. It must be such a challenge, having to—” The rest went in a whoosh of breath as she found herself flat on her back on his bed, with him right down on top her.

“I know a wee bit about sensitive parts.” He pinned her wrists to the bed. “And my ego isn't one of them.” He leaned in, nipped at her chin, then sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, making her groan and squirm under him. “Here, let me show you.”

He left her arms pinned by her head, and started a very delectable, intensely detailed journey down her torso.

“You know”—she gasped as he pulled her top off in one swift tug—“we're never going to get an inn or a ship built because whenever we're together for more then two minutes, we end up—”

“Doing this?” He tugged down the zipper of her pants, wasting no time pulling them down just far enough to put his tongue right—oh sweet goodness—right where she wanted it most.

She bucked hard against his mouth and climbed straight up, then straight over, in the fastest, most intense orgasm she'd ever had. Shuddering and panting, she said, “Okay. So . . . maybe you have that sensitive part thing down.”

He leaned in again and she all but dragged him up by his hair and shoulders.

“So impatient,” he said, chuckling and grinning, his green eyes dancing.

It was in that moment, staring into his handsome face with that wicked grin, mischief alight in his beautiful Irish eyes, that she knew she'd do more than fight to keep him. She'd do whatever it took to never lose him.

That was the real Moment.

She cupped his cheek when he would have leaned in and rendered her incapable of speech. “At the risk of ruining this delightful interlude or being forever accused of speaking in the heat of the moment . . .” She trailed off until her words sank in and he slowly lifted his head, his expression sobering in almost fearful anticipation. If she hadn't known it before, she definitely did just then. He was so strong and bold, and yet, at his core, just as vulnerable as she was. “Brodie Monaghan, I love you right back.”

A
knock on the side of the open panel door had Grace jumping guiltily and thrusting behind her back the catalog she was looking through.

Delia walked in and gave her a wondering look, clearly having seen the quick dodge. “Catching you at a bad time?”

“No, no.” Grace felt her cheeks heat even as she acknowledged how silly she was being. She pulled the catalog out.

“Sex toys?” Delia shook her head and made a
tsk
ing sound. “Here I always thought Monaghan could back up the charm with the goods.”

Grace laughed and blushed for real. “No, it's bed-and-breakfast porn.”

Delia's eyebrows climbed.
“Really,”
she said, drawing the word out. “I've never heard of it. Share.” She held out her hand and wiggled her fingers. “Come on, I'm the one not getting any, not you. Have a heart.”

“Not fictional B&B porn,” Grace said laughing. “It's a catalog to order decorating items for small inns and B&B's. I found one online with nautical items, and it just came in the mail today.”

“Um, Grace”—Delia leaned in, waving away the catalog—“I hate to tell you, but it's not porn if you actually
have
an inn. Then it's just business. Nothing to feel guilty about.” When Grace just gave her a
really?
look, Delia continued. “Okay. My porn is kitchenware catalogs and pamphlets full of really sharp knives. Hell, it's one of the few fun things about being a business owner.”

Grace clutched the catalog to her chest and beamed. “I know!” She fanned her face. “It's just, now that we're actually going to start the renovation, there's even a longer list of things to be done beforehand. I have no business wasting time on future dreaming and drooling.”

“Well then, you should make time. It's important.” Delia looked around and whistled. “Wow, I can't believe how much you've accomplished in such a short time. Well, you and your manslaves.” She grinned at Grace. “Shouldn't we all just have a ready crew of manslaves? I tell everyone they should try it. I know I couldn't get through the day without mine.” She tapped her finger to her chin. “You know, maybe I'm being shortsighted by only having them actually work for me. Maybe they should really, you know,
work
for me.”

Grace barked out a laugh, then winced a little, her cheek still tight. “I'm sorry about the other night, I was—”

“Being all femme fatale, I know. I heard.” She leaned over and took a look at Grace's face. “Quite the shiner you've got there.”

“You should have seen it two days ago. How did you know? Brodie said you were good, but—”

“I'm Delia. All knowing, all seeing.” She reached out, but didn't touch Grace's cheek. “I'm not so sure I wouldn't have pressed charges on that.”

Grace shook her head. “Next time you see Cami, pat her on the shoulder.” She let out a little smile. “Her left one. Maybe put some oomph in it.”

“Ah.” Delia's grin was approving. “I take it back, Grasshopper. You have learned many useful skills.”

“I have Miyagi Ford to thank for that,” Grace said, laughing and striking a pose. “Wax on, wax off.” She noted the flicker of . . . something . . . cross Delia's face and sobered. “Delia, you know you don't have—we don't have to talk about Ford. I mean, at some point I'd like to, but you can pick your time, or—”

“No, it's not that. I was going to back out, make the excuse that it was his story to tell, but then I realized it's just as much my story as his, and I was just being a chickenshit. I'm never a chickenshit, so why start now?”

Grace snorted as Delia looked around again.

“We're alone,” Grace told her. “The guys are done for the day.”

“I heard Langston deVry was back in town.”

“You heard right.” Grace tilted her head. “You want to meet him?”

Delia made a
who, me?
face of innocence, then cracked a smile. “Sure. You know, if it works out without looking all staged or anything.” Then she grabbed Grace's arm in mock urgency. “I'll pay you. Name your price.”

Grace just laughed. “Wow. If I'd known, I'd have arranged something sooner. So, are you an older guy kinda gal, or . . . ?”

“I'm a guy who can show a girl a good time kinda gal. Especially when there's private jets involved.”

“Yeah, well, with Langston, there's often quickie weddings. How do you feel about that?”

“I've managed to avoid those shackles since I was nineteen, so I think I'm bulletproof there.”

Grace just shook her head, murmured, “Sucker,” under her breath, and grinned, which made Delia laugh. “Don't say you weren't warned. Don't go primping now. He and Brodie and Brooks Winstock are out at the Point house having a powwow.”

Delia dropped her hands from where she'd been fussing with the hair she'd swept up in a quick knot on the back of her head. “I heard Langston leased out Proctor's old place. Nice digs.” She looked at Grace consideringly. “Why aren't you out there? This is about the schooner deal, right?”

“How do you even know that?”

“I'm Delia. I know everything,” she repeated.

“Sensei Delia,” Grace said with a mock bow, not sure how they'd slipped so easily into a fast friendship, but very glad they had.

“If only the rest were as aware of my greatness as you.” Delia sighed. “So, what, they didn't invite you because they were afraid of your Wonder Girl superpowers?”

“Privately, that's what I think,” Grace said, checking her nails with studied calm. “Men . . . can't handle a girl who can manhandle other girls.”

“I know. You'd think they'd be all over that.”

“Right?” Grace said with mock outrage.

They both laughed until Delia wheezed and Grace was holding her cheek in pain.

“Well, even though they are inherently weak of mind, they are strong of body, so we forgive.”

“We do.” Grace sighed. “It has its benefits.”

“Don't gloat.” Delia reached in her pocket. “Do you have a Kleenex?”

Grace went off to her little room area in the corner and came back with a box. “The dust in here is awful.”

“You're still sleeping here?”

Grace knew they were well past any kind of shyness or embarrassment, but her relationship with Brodie was still new, at least to the townsfolk. To her, it felt like she'd known him forever “Define
still
.”

Delia laughed. “Good. I'm glad. Breathing all this in couldn't have been good for you. And his loft space is amazing.”

Grace shot her a quick look, but she knew damn well Brodie hadn't lied about never sleeping with Delia.

Delia hooted, anyway. “Boy, if you could see your face right now. I know why Cami was scared.” She lifted her hands. “Don't hurt me. I never touched him. Alex is a friend, and she snuck me in when she was done with the remodel so I could see it. I love what she did.” Delia paused. “You're really okay with all that, aren't you.” It wasn't a question.

Grace nodded. “Of course, I haven't met the great Alex yet, so maybe I won't feel so confident when she's like, awesome, but I trust Brodie.”

“You should. So that's good.”

Grace agreed. “He's a good man. He has my back.”

“He even trusts you to kick ass all on your own when necessary.”

“Oh God. Is everyone saying that? I mean, are they going to tease him about it?”

“Every day for the rest of his life,” Delia said, smiling. “Myself included.” She held up her hand. “We kid because we love, and he knows that. But yeah, he's totally screwed there. To his credit, he's handling it quite well.”

Grace gaped. “It's already happening? To his face?”

“Well, honey, it's no fun unless he's there to hear it.” Delia patted Grace's arm. “He's been by. He takes the ribbing and he defends your honor as well as giving you total props. Personally, I think he loves it that you kicked Cami's ass, and so does everybody else. You know he's head over heels for you, right? I mean, he's a goner.”

Something flashed across Grace's face because Delia snatched her arm right up and pulled her a step closer. “He said it, didn't he? Oh my God.” She didn't wait or apparently need confirmation. “Did you say it back?”

Grace figured there was no point in trying to dodge the question. “It's possible I might have said something like that.”

Delia spontaneously pulled her into her arms and gave her a big hug. “I'm thrilled for you, honey.” She set her back. “Don't you worry about the ship deal.”

“What? You know what's going to happen there, too? That's impossible. Brodie wasn't sure if they could make it happen. I asked him if he even wanted to do any kind of deal with a guy like Winstock, but he said that where business is concerned, Winstock is a pretty straight arrow. Brodie did his due diligence, checked out his other business dealings.” Grace casually lifted a shoulder, then gave Delia a little grin. “And when I did my own, I found out the same thing. Can't endorse his parenting skills, but for all he appears to be aggressive in business, he's fair.”

“Easier to do when you own every damn thing,” Delia said, but she was nodding in agreement.

“See, that's my bigger worry. I mean, the deal between the two men might be fair and square, but you know Cami won't let things go. I don't know her well, but I got to see her eyes up close and personal, and she's not simply going to pick a new target. Heck, she's had it in for Brodie for almost the entire time he's been here.”

“He told you about all that. Good.”

“Yes, he did.”

“Well, as I said, I think some of the Winstock power is going to shift. Building the tall ship and holding true title and deed to the property where Mr. Winstock wants to park his little boat is going to give Brodie back the kind of clout that his family used to have back in the day.”

Grace groaned. “But Ted still has the council in a stranglehold, and I imagine Cami has more than a little clout there. I still have a long laundry list of things I'll need permits and licenses and inspections for. I'm dreading it all the more now. She could keep me buried forever just with that.”

“Till the fall maybe, but I wouldn't be so sure after that.”

“What happens in the fall?”

“Elections. Ted has been positioning himself to run for mayor. Davis is finally retiring, so now he has a chance. He's never made any secret of the fact that he eventually wants to move on to a bigger, grander political arena, above and beyond our local politics. State at least, maybe bigger. Why do you think he and Cami picked each other? He wanted her clout and she wanted to ride his political aspirations.”

“Why not just pursue politics on her own?”

“I don't know. Personally I think she's a misplaced Southern belle. She loves all the attention, but doesn't really want to do the work.”

“She's apparently pretty successful in real estate.”

Delia gave Grace a look. “Where else is anyone going to go when she can offer smooth sailing with all those permits and inspections you were talking about?”

Grace wasn't surprised. “True. Small-town stranglehold.”

“Pretty much.”

“So, what would change that?”

“Someone else running for Ted's council seat . . . although I'm trying to talk the candidate I have in mind into running straight at the mayor's office. He'll have final say over Ted and can rein him in. Hell, if we can get someone to run for Ted's old seat on the council, he could lose both races and lose his clout entirely.”

Grace perked up. “Who do you want to run for mayor? Is it someone I know?”

Delia nodded. “Owen.”

“Hartley?” Grace was somewhat stunned until she thought about it for a moment. “He's lived here his whole life, I know that. And he's smart. Folks seem to love him.”

“They do.”

“And respect and admire him.”

“In spades.”

“But is he, you know, a leadership kind of guy? He seems pretty unimposing. Can he hold his own in a conflict?”

“Oh, he can take action, all right. Ask him sometime about staking out his own store and catching old Mrs. Darby breaking and entering, then locking her in a storage closet.”

Grace's eyebrows climbed straight up her forehead. “Owen?”

Delia nodded, respect clear on her face. “It looks like Lauren has decided to go to college closer to home, in Bangor. She says she wants to come back and use her business degree to help run the family store. Owen had all these big dreams and ideas for her, but she's really a homebody at heart.”

“I met her. She really seems like a great kid. I could see her doing bigger things, too.”

Delia shrugged. “Well, she's got her heart set on following in the family footsteps. For all she has cover girl looks, she knows her hardware. She literally grew up in the business. So, I wouldn't count her out.”

“Oh, me either. That's great.”

The conversation dwindled and Grace shook her head in wonder. “Owen Hartley for mayor. I hope he does go for it.” She glanced over at Delia, who was lost in thought, her hand stuck in her jacket pocket. “Is everything okay? Is there something else?”

Delia nodded. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to cheat and read this . . . for reasons that go well beyond my usual nosiness.” She pulled out a folded and somewhat crumpled envelope. “It's for you. From Ford. He sent it in with one of Blue's guys, who brought it to me.” She pulled it back when Grace gasped, and Grace knew she must have gone a little pale.

Delia looked concerned. “Okay, I think we need to talk first. Let me tell you what I know about your brother, then you can read this. No matter what it says, you'll at least have a shot at understanding where he's coming from. Okay?”