Page 27 of The Romance Library

‘I’m certain,’ I snapped. Father was always looking for a way to undermine me. ‘He’s one of those annoyingly happy community-minded types. A tray of homemade biscuits would mean more to him than a plate of cash.’

‘What a strange man.’ He shook his head. In his eyes, everyone had their price. But Edwin was an anomaly.

‘Maybe we should forget about this site and focus on other locations.’

‘Absolutely not!’ He slammed his fist on the table. ‘This town has been on the list of best places to live in the UK for five years running. I’ve wanted to build something here for much longer than that, but no one ever sells. Now an opportunity to buy a prime piece of land has presented itself, we need to snap it up. There’s no guarantee if or when it’ll happen again.’

‘Understood.’

Foolishly I’d hoped Father would say to forget pursuing it, but deep down I’d known he wouldn’t. Because the land was so rare and in high demand, we could sell the apartments at a premium, which meant more profit. And he never turned down the opportunity to make more money.

‘You have no choice. As long as you continue working on other projects remotely whilst you’re there and keep me updated regularly, then it’s acceptable. Provided of course you secure the deal.’

‘I will.’ I nodded. If I was going to be forced to stay in Sunshine Bay, I was more determined than ever to make it worthwhile.

I pulled up outside of the B&B, got out of the car, took my suitcase from the boot and sighed.

The town was pretty, I’d give it that. With its sandy beach and striking blue sea just across the road from the B&B, I understood why people might like it. But it wasn’t my kind of place.

I liked the buzz of the city. The excitement. Knowing that if I needed something at three in the morning, I wouldn’t have to go far to find a shop that was open. I bet everything here closed ridiculously early, including the bars.

Assuming, of course, they had one. So far, I’d only spotted a tiny pub. Who even went to pubs anymore?

I pushed the door and stepped inside. As I took in the decor, my face fell. The floral-patterned carpet and curtains looked like it’d been there since the seventies. So did the beige wallpaper.

As I pictured my penthouse with its polished wooden floors and freshly painted white walls, I instantly felt homesick.

There didn’t seem to be anyone around. I headed to the reception desk and saw there was a gold bell on the counter, so pressed it.

‘Helloooo!’ A smiley woman with short dark hair and white skin who was probably in her late fifties bundled into the hallway. ‘I’m Glenda, the owner of this fine establishment. You must be Theodore! Ooh, you’re a handsome one. Edwin should’ve warned me we were getting some eye candy! Welcome!’

She threw her arms around me, and my body stiffened.

‘Pleasure to meet you, Glenda.’ I pulled back from her embrace and thrust my hand out. ‘And, please, call me Theo.’

‘I’m guessing you’re not a hugger!’ she chuckled.

Very observant.

‘Not really.’ Affection wasn’t something I was used to. Mum used to hug us, but when she died, all that stopped. Depending on the circumstances, sometimes I’d kiss a lady’s hand, but after Candace’s joke about where hers had been last night, I wasn’t feeling inspired to repeat the gesture.

‘Let’s see how long that lasts in this town!’ she chirped.

Good God. I didn’t understand how everyone in this place was so happy. Surely they must be exhausted, smiling all the time.

‘Is my room ready, please?’

‘Oh, yes, of course! Let me grab your key.’ She pulled out an actual metal key. ‘Follow me!’

I didn’t even realise that hotels used actual keys anymore. The places I was used to had key cards. My chest tightened as I braced myself for what would no doubt be a room that was last decorated before I was born.

She led me up to the first floor, put the rusty key in the lock, then pushed the door open.

‘Ta da!’ she said dramatically. ‘Welcome to your new home.’

I looked around the room. It had blue floral wallpaper, the same ugly carpet that was in the hallway and one of those hideous duvet covers that looked like they’d never been washed. Thank God I’d brought my own bed linen, pillows and duvet. I’d get them from the car later.

There was a tiny wooden desk, which was about a quarter of the size of the one in my corner office, a mini kettle and two mugs. I didn’t know how I was going to work from here for three weeks.

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