All the Way (Romancing Manhattan #1)(2)

I glance up in surprise. “He doesn’t know where I live.”

He pins me with those chocolate-brown eyes. “Do you honestly believe that?”

I take a sip of my Earl Grey and then sigh. “No. I’m sure he could find me. My building is secure. I’m not worried about him.”

“I can file a restraining order.”

I laugh. “For what? A piece of paper isn’t going to stop him if he gets it in his head to find and hurt me.” I shake my head and take another sip of tea. “No, I’ve dealt with him and his issues most of my life. He’ll disappear for a while now, do God knows what, until he runs out of money again and calls me.”

“Do you give him money?”

“Not anymore.” I squirm in my seat and then set my tea aside. “Thanks for the tea, but I’m okay. We can finish this.”

Finn opens the folders and passes me forms to sign, explaining how the properties will be transferred to my name.

“You’re a very wealthy woman, London.”

“I was wealthy before this,” I reply, hearing the hollowness in my voice. “I didn’t need my parents to die in order to have money.”

“Of course not,” he says, shaking his head. “I meant no disrespect.”

My leg is beginning to ache again. I’ve only been taking the bare minimum of the pain meds, unwilling to be in a constant hazy coma. But damn, it hurts today.

“If we’re finished, I’ll go.”

“Can I give you a ride home?” he asks, standing with me. I reach for my crutches and get myself situated.

“I have a car and driver.”

He nods and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Can I take you to dinner?”

I glance up in surprise. Finn’s a sexy man, and under normal circumstances, I’d do more than let him buy me dinner.

But these aren’t normal circumstances.

“Seriously?” I tip my head to the side and scowl at him, no longer surprised, and fully irritated. “You’re asking me out just after you’ve read my parents’ will?”

He rubs his fingers over his mouth and then shakes his head, as if he’s at a loss for words, and escorts me out to the elevator. “Just call if you have any questions or need anything at all.”

“I have one question. Now that I own all of the properties, can I live in them?”

“Of course.”

I step into the elevator, turn to face him, and offer him a small smile. “Thanks.”





Chapter One

~London~


Three months a year. That’s how much time I spent here on Martha’s Vineyard off the coast of Massachusetts each summer of my entire life. The rest of the year we lived in Connecticut, so my brother and I could go to school and do what families do.

But every summer, from the day after school let out until the day before we went back, my family lived here, on the beach in the West Chop area of the island. Our house is massive, and worth several million dollars, but as a child, I didn’t know that. I just knew that it was a magical place of sunshine and water, of summertime friends that came back every year. Of daydreams and happiness.

It was more home to me than our “full-time” house then, and it still is.

So when Finn told me two months ago that I had inherited all of my parents’ properties, and that I could live in them or do what I wished with them, I knew that I’d come here for the summer.

Home.

I’m walking on the beach, without a cane now, thank you very much, enjoying the breeze from the ocean. I have over a hundred feet of private beach, but I can hear kids playing off in the distance, and sailboats are gently meandering by with bright sails and happy people.

At least, they’re happy in my head.

Walking in the sand isn’t as easy as I would like. My leg aches like a toothache, but it’s healing. Slower than I’d like, but it’s getting there.

The sand is warm beneath my bare feet, and I have to hold my dark hair off of my face as I stop and look out at the choppy water.

“Because I just have to be meeeee . . .”

I glance over my shoulder at the sound of the small voice and smile. A little girl with a riot of dark curls is dancing down the beach, making grand gestures with her arms and singing loudly. Ironically, she’s singing the song from the musical that I starred in for over a year on Broadway.

She stops when she sees me and glances around like she’s not quite sure how she got here.

“You have a pretty voice,” I say kindly.

“Thanks,” she says, and shrugs one shoulder. She’s tall, but I don’t know kids well enough to know if she’s tall for her age. Her eyes are sky blue, standing out against her olive skin and dark hair. “It’s my favorite musical.”

I nod, smiling. “Mine too.”

“Is that your house?” she asks, pointing behind me.

“It is,” I confirm. “Where do you live?”

“Over there,” she says with a sigh, pointing to the house next to mine. “But ours doesn’t have a pool or a playhouse like yours.”

I tilt my head to the side, watching her. “You must have had a look around, since I don’t think you can see all of that from your house.”