Wrapped in You (5 page)

Everything in her life had been safe until she'd fallen for Zach Monroe. Then she'd been a foolish teen. Now she was a grown woman with more common sense.

So why did her stomach always flutter when this intriguing, infuriating man was around? She wanted it—no,
needed
it to flutter around Martin. She kept waiting for that moment to happen.

“My plans got canceled.” She shoved her phone back into her purse without responding to the message. “Do you want help going through Chelsea's things? I don't mind, but I understand if you want to be alone.”

Throwing her a glance over his shoulder, he shook his head. “I'll be fine.”

Dismissed. Why would she be delusional enough to think he'd accept help from anybody, especially her? Did she seriously believe just because they'd shared a two-minute conversation about their past that he would be ready to play nice? Way too much angst lay between them for the gap to be bridged in such a short time.

She was about to retrieve her items from the bedroom and leave, but Zach's low, whispered, “You've got to be shitting me” had her moving to stand beside him.

What she saw in the binders had her just as stunned.

Damn it. He'd hoped Sophie was leaving. The spellbinding floral scent mocked him as she moved closer. So close, her bare arm brushed his and it took all of Zach's control not to step away. He couldn't let her know how she still got to him, and he damn well couldn't react to that slightest of touches.

After all this time, after every ugly thing in his life and having every reason shoved in his face as to why he shouldn't want this woman, he still did.

Yet in the midst of his Sophie-induced haze, the pictures and the words in Chelsea's handwriting stared back at him from the pages of the binder. Each plastic sleeve held details of exactly what Chelsea's vision was for the Sunset Lake property.

“A spa?” Sophie asked.

“Not just a spa.” He flipped back to the first page, where Chelsea had written BELLE VOUS in bold letters. “A getaway resort for women. What the hell does that even say?”

Sophie laughed. “It's French for ‘beautiful you.'”

“Of course she wouldn't just want to call it something in English,” he muttered.

His sister had had a flare for all things over-the-top. Her dream had been to travel to Paris, but in all her escapades, she'd never made it there.

“So she wanted to open a resort.” Sophie reached over, tugging the other binder from below his. “She laid out so many plans in these.”

Everything from the rich hardwood flooring to the drapery tied back in the entryway of each service room, instead of doors. She'd even made notes about having little café chairs and tables along the patio that would overlook the lake, where the ladies could enjoy meals or just relax.

Zach glanced over at Sophie and the pages she searched. “She never mentioned this to you?” he asked.

Shaking her head, Sophie turned and met his gaze. “Not a word. I'm seriously just as shocked as you. Maybe she was afraid we'd laugh or talk her out of it.”

Zach didn't miss the hint of hurt in Sophie's tone. More than likely she was upset that Chelsea had kept a secret. In reality, though, didn't they all have secrets? Some not as glamorous as others.

“I have no idea what to do with this now,” he muttered as he closed his binder. He'd seen enough.

“I can't see you and your brothers getting into the resort and spa business.” Sophie laughed. “Perhaps selling the property would be for the best.”

Maybe in a logical way of thinking, selling the house would be best. Zach had never thought logically, though, and he didn't intend to start now.

“I'm still not selling.” More than ready to get to the reason he came, Zach headed toward the bedroom.

He should've known Sophie would follow. Great.

“Have you even thought about it?” she asked, right on his heels. “Have you wondered what Chelsea would want you guys to do? You know the town would fix it up, make it beautiful and draw people in.”

He didn't give a shit what the town wanted or what their vision was. He cared about Chelsea, and now that he knew her dream, he couldn't just laugh it off. Deep inside he knew that's why she'd kept these notes hidden. Fear of rejection. Rejection was something all four Monroe kids had in common. They'd experienced enough of it before they were rescued by Ed and Nancy Monroe.

Zach had never known the love of parents before he was adopted. Braxton kept to himself, but whatever demons he battled were pretty big as well. And Liam, well, he placed himself inside this bubble and refused to let anyone in, so his past had been riddled with rejection. He'd also not gone into details. That was one thing all boys had in common. They didn't want to get into the ugliness of their pasts. They'd fight those devils all alone to keep the outside world from seeing just how damaged they truly were.

But right now Zach wasn't going to focus on his past, or that of his brothers'. Yet again, that's not what Chelsea would have wanted. She'd want him to take a leap of faith, to be adventurous like she was.

So what now? Did he find someone who would want to take on such a business? Find a woman who would want to be the manager of a resort for women only? Did he do it himself? Chelsea would've gotten a kick out of her three brothers opening a spa.

The image nearly sent him into panic mode. He needed to thoroughly think about this. Somehow he had to make this work in order to honor his sister's memory.

“I'm not ignoring her dreams,” he finally said. “Selling to the city will never be an option for me.”

Granted, he was fixing up his own home, and that was taking up a chunk of his time and money. The old Victorian he'd been raised in from a teen was now his, and he'd been slowly renovating it to sell. He'd not mentioned that last part to his brothers yet. He'd certainly give either of them first dibs at the house, but Zach was ready for a change. And he was still up in the air as to whether or not that change would be just a different house or a different town altogether.

Now, though, this resort plan would have him reevaluating everything.

“The concept of a women's resort and spa isn't a bad idea,” he went on, shocked at the thoughts flooding him. “Think about it. We're not far from Savannah. From a business standpoint this idea of hers could work, and there's nothing else like it that I know of. We're already a hot spot for tourists who filter over anyway. Why not add more appeal?”

Sophie stared, mouth open, eyes wide. “You're not seriously considering this.”

Shrugging, Zach merely held her wide-eyed stare. He might not go through with this crazy plan, but he at least wanted to toy around with some of his thoughts and Chelsea's ideas.

The brief notes he'd seen had his mind spinning. Packages for groups of working women, mother-daughter specials, guest rooms in the mansion or renting one of the two cottages on the land. The ideas were really endless, and Chelsea had one hell of a start already outlined.

Damn it, he already had this business up and running in his head, like some damn kid daydreaming about what they want to be when they grow up. What the hell did he know about a spa? He had callouses, only shaved and cut his hair under duress about three times a year. From a business angle, though, he was pretty confident the spa would be a huge success.

Thinking about something and going after it were two totally different things. Case in point, the woman who stood before him. He'd attempted to go after her once, and that had turned into a living nightmare.

Sophie shook her head. “You're crazy. You want to discuss this with your brothers before you go any further? As far as Liam is concerned, the property can go to the city if Braxton is okay with it.”

“If I want to move ahead, I'll buy their portion somehow. If this plan ends up falling through before takeoff, we'll all sit and discuss other options.”

No matter how adamant Liam was, Zach knew deep in his heart he wasn't going to sell this property. He couldn't get rid of that last bond he had with his sister. Selling to the city would have her rolling over in her grave. She'd been so angry when Anna had broken off the engagement with Braxton, she'd actually confronted the woman. Thankfully, Zach had gotten there in time to break up the scuffle that was about to break out.

Sophie raked her hands through her golden hair and sighed, reminding him that she still stood way too close to him.

She pointed toward the bed. “That's the stuff I want to take. You okay with that?”

Zach glanced down at the photos, the clothes, the sketch of the Eiffel Tower. “Yeah.”

He picked up the framed pencil drawing and studied the picture. Sophie didn't say a word.

“This is really good,” he muttered before glancing up at her. “It looks similar to the pencil drawings in your office.”

Sophie nodded. “I got them all at the same time and gave Chelsea that one.”

Her eyes darted around. She was lying about something. Why? Or perhaps she was nervous being in the same room, a bedroom at that, with him. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable—or any more so than usual. Being alone together was a bad, bad idea.

When Sophie bent to scoop up the remainder of the items from the bed, Zach didn't step back. Torturing himself further wasn't a smart idea, but damn it, he couldn't force himself away from her. That floral scent of hers wrapped all around him, mocking him. Nothing good could come from allowing his mind to focus on how perfectly amazing this woman was. She belonged to someone else. A schmuck with a perfectly parted haircut and some sporty two-door car, but still.

As Sophie straightened, he passed over the framed artwork, but didn't move.

“What?” she asked, clutching the items to her chest.

Such a small gap between them now. So close he could see the black ring around her green eyes, see the slight smudge of makeup beneath one eye, as if maybe she'd shed a tear before he arrived. His perfectly polished Sophie was a bit imperfect, and damn if he didn't want to ruffle her up even more.

Wait.
His Sophie?
Only in his every waking fantasy.

“Do you need help out?” he asked, unable to come up with anything better.

She shook her head, sending a stray strand of golden hair gliding across her forehead. “I've got it. Are you sure you don't want help here?”

He wanted to reach out and smooth away the stray hair that had slid down across her cheek. He'd lost any right to touch her years ago. “I'm sure.”

Sophie stared for another minute, then nodded. As she turned to go, her limp seemed more pronounced than he'd seen before.

“Are you sure you're all right?” he asked. When she glanced over her shoulder with brows drawn down in confusion, he added, “From the fall.”

“Nothing I can't handle.”

Of course. Because she was tougher than he was. Zach couldn't handle seeing her like that, couldn't handle the fact that he could've killed her in that one, reckless moment.

“One more thing.”

She sighed. “What?”

“Don't tell anyone about Chelsea's idea.”

Her hesitation had him worried she wouldn't agree. Finally she nodded. “I'll wait to hear from you and your brothers regarding the city's offer.”

Once she was gone and Zach was left in silence, he glanced around Chelsea's bedroom. Sinking to the bed, he rested his hands over his knees and dropped his head between his shoulders.

That was the most interaction he'd had one-on-one with Sophie in years. Even though she was gone, her scent lingered and Zach was finding it harder and harder to push her out of his mind. She'd been thrust back into his life in the past few days and he honestly wasn't sure he was strong enough to keep his distance.

Fortunately, he had enough to keep him occupied and he hoped his personal encounters with Sophie were coming to a close. Between clearing out Chelsea's apartment, renovating his own home, and now reeling from Chelsea's bombshell vision, Zach had enough on his plate. Thinking of things that would never be was a waste of time.

What he needed to focus on now was how to break this women-only resort news to Braxton and Liam. Zach nearly laughed. He couldn't wait to see their faces when he told them they were going to have to start researching massages and facials.

* * *

Zach's ability to string a sentence together using every cuss word known to man, and some he'd invented himself, was rather impressive. What wasn't impressive was that he was a damn professional and he couldn't get the freshly cut ceramic tile to match up perfectly in the corners of his new shower. How the hell was he having issues? This was his livelihood, the one thing he devoted his existence to. The one thing he didn't screw up.

Renovating, making things new again or starting from scratch, kept him from going insane. Yet now he'd botched the tiles and would need to grab another sheet.

His personal issues were starting to seep into his professional life. Something he couldn't allow. He had no room for personal anything.

Zach was just about to take his hammer and smash the hell out of everything in that damn bathroom when his newly installed doorbell rang. At least that had turned out like he wanted.

Perhaps he wouldn't be having such a hard time right now if he wasn't so distracted by all the turmoil that seemed to keep growing. First the back taxes were looming over their heads, then the city wanted to buy the property that his sister adored and put her entire savings into, and now he'd discovered another layer to Chelsea's dream.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he headed down the curved, narrow steps to the front door. Darkness had settled in, and he realized he hadn't turned on any lights downstairs, other than the porch lights, which were on a timer. Obviously it was later than he thought.

Flicking the switch to the new antique chandelier that hung from the high ceiling in the foyer, Zach glanced through the glass panels on the sides of the door. He'd known before looking who'd be waiting on the other side. He resisted the urge to groan, but he wouldn't hide in his house and cower just because his new neighbor was overly friendly and very flirty. Okay, she was beyond flirty. The woman didn't know subtle.

Glancing down at his sweat-stained gray T-shirt, he was thankful he hadn't ripped it off earlier. No way would he ever want to greet this divorcée in skin and denim.

Flicking the lock on the door, Zach eased it open, just wide enough to stand in the opening, making it perfectly clear visitors weren't welcome.

“Ms. Barkley,” he greeted without a smile.

Blond hair bleached within an inch of its life was piled high on top of her head. Blood-red lips pursed as her overly made-up eyes traveled down his body. Her visual lick did absolutely nothing to turn him on. In fact, always being under the microscope since this woman moved in last month was getting a bit creepy. Were there no other single men in this neighborhood? He knew for a fact that Mr. Mullins across the street was single, even if he was knocking on seventy.