One Bossy Offer (85)

My pulse quickens.

“You’re more honest here than you are in Seattle, too. And definitely more demanding.”

His eyes flash as he looks at me, hungry quicksilver. The raw magnetism makes me fall a little more stupidly in love with this terrible man.

“Woman, you have no clue, but I promise, you’re about to get one,” he whispers, taking my hand.

By the time we pull up to the inn, he’s breathing through clenched teeth while my hands work, rubbing him through his slacks.





A few days later, I’m sitting on the sandy beach and smiling, pleasantly sore from three nights straight of being kissed, licked, bitten, and fucked into oblivion and back.

If Miles Cromwell sprouted a heart, he’s also made mine completely ravenous.

The quickie this morning before he went off to review his latest reports barely holds me over until evening. It’s just after lunch, and I’m thinking about tonight so much it’s pathetic.

A loud bark yanks my brain off sex.

Long enough to look up and see Coffee and Cream chasing each other into the low tide in wild circles that make me laugh.

The white dog has a piece of driftwood in her mouth. Her brother closes in to steal it away from her, both of them splashing around with every bounce.

They’re thrilled to be home. No question.

Honestly, so am I.

“Jenn, can we talk?”

I turn around to find Ace standing over me. He looks sullen and his hands are stuffed in his pockets.

Well, crap.

I’ve been expecting this for a while. Best to just get it over with, I guess.

“Sure.” I pivot to face him.

He drops to the sand beside me, his face oddly guarded.

“I wasn’t sure if I should do this, but hell. I need to come clean about something.” His voice is strained.

My heart skips with worry.

The guy is usually so laid-back, and he’s been a saint after the way Miles stole me right out from under him.

Unless...unless it’s about that and he’s been bottling it up?

“Ace, no worries. If you need to chew me out, go ahead. I deserve it. I kissed a guy while we were on a house date and never really got a chance to apologize. I’m deeply sorry for that. Whatever you want to say, it can’t be as bad as what I did.”

“You sure?” He laughs awkwardly. “And thanks, but everything else... that’s water under the bridge. You made your choice. I’m not gonna try to compete with a billionaire.”

I give him a friendly nod, trying to make him feel at ease. “So if it’s not that, then...”

I wait.

He scratches the back of his neck and slowly looks at me.

“Okay. A few weeks back, this woman—kind of a bold, freaky tall blonde—came up to me one evening at Murphy’s. She said she was with a media crew, looking to do a story on the Pointe. I thought she was with your tourism group, so I was happy to help. I even asked her if she was. She told me yes.” He pauses, frowning before he continues. “At the time, some of the questions didn’t sit quite right with me. But I knew if you were in on the project, it had to be fine.”

“What kind of questions?”

If Simone was up in his business, this poor man was like a lamb to the slaughter.

“All negative shit. She kept asking me about the burglaries we’d had, but other than the CPAP machine and Mrs. Smith, I didn’t know much. Then she started poking around at you and Miss Lottie and the whole history of Bee Harbor. Your grandparents never had no enemies. I didn’t see how anyone could spin it negatively. So I might’ve blabbed on about the past more than I meant to, and she acted interested enough, even if I think she was angling for more. But...”

I nod. “But?”

“Once that article dropped and everybody started talking about that hit piece, I realized it was probably connected to her. I felt like a damn heel, afraid I helped her trash the town. I said a few things about Cromwell I regretted later, but when they didn’t show up in the slime pieces, I figured there was another motive. They wanted to hurt Pinnacle Pointe. At least they didn’t go after the inn, and I’m glad as hell you and Cromwell buried it.”

That’s one mystery solved.

I guess we know how Simone found out about the tourism piece. Ace told her.

Then something else hits me.

“Wait. You don’t know anything about the anonymous kid entrepreneur who got his start selling prescription drugs, do you?”

He throws his hand up. “Nope. No idea who that was, and everybody grilling their son in this town can’t come up with an answer. Some folks think it’s another fabrication, and that’s how I lean, too.”

I smile. “I hope you’re right. I want to believe this place is full of good people.”

“That’s half-true. But I already tried to dirty up your man for no good reason besides my damn ego, and it didn’t feel right. And personal stuff aside, I can see how Cromwell must not be such a rat bastard after all. If he hadn’t commissioned all those puff pieces, well, we’d be done for.” Ace grins at me. “You two saved the day.”

“He’s a good guy. You just have to get to know him.”

Ace nods. “I’m sure he is—”

I can tell he’s not done, but he’s stopped talking.