Page 5 of Between the Lines

Miranda nudged his shoulder in consolation, but didn’t say anything more, for which he was grateful.

They’d left the Lincoln on the street next to the coffee shop and Theo made to get into the passenger seat, as usual, but Miranda stopped him. “Take the back seat,” she said. “It’ll look more impressive when we pull up outside the hotel.”

“It’ll make me look like a pillock.”

“I’ll make you look like Mr. Theodore Wishart, of Lux Properties, which is who you are.” She smiled and tugged his shirt collar to straighten it. “Wear your jacket, too.”

He could have made use of Lux’s car service but he preferred it when Miranda drove. She understood him better. Opening the back door, he smiled. “What would I do without you?”

“Be late for everything.” Her smile faded and in a quieter voice she added, “Listen, you’ll kick ass this afternoon. Relax, okay?”

He only wished he had her confidence; this sort of customer contact was not his forte. With a nod, he slipped into the back seat, grateful when Miranda pumped up the air-conditioning. Arriving hot and sweaty was not appropriate, and his encounter in town had left him more flustered than he’d have liked ahead of a big meeting—and this was a Big Meeting. The New Milton development was his brainchild, and closing the sale on the Majestic was his best shot at proving to his father that he deserved a partnership in the family business. Which was what he wanted, of course. What else would he do with his life?

Taking a deep breath, he sat back and let the chilled air cool him, watching the view as Miranda drove out of town and up to the hotel. From this angle he could see that the beach itself was small, more of a bay, and the town behind it lay strung along a single street in a shallow valley between the two headlands bracketing the cove. On one stood the Majestic Hotel, and on the other he could see Hanworth Hall, where, in a couple of weeks, New Milton would be hosting its very own big fat gay wedding.

And that’s why Theo was so interested in acquiring the Majestic’s property. He’d watched the romance between the actor Finn Callaghan and his New Milton sweetheart, Joshua Newton, unfold on social media last year when Finn had come out as bi. A little entranced and a lot envious, he’d started researching the sleepy little Long Island town. Rich people liked the company of other rich people and, given its rising profile, New Milton was the perfect place to buy into while property prices were relatively low, and then capitalize on the stardust blowing in from its Hollywood connection.

God knew the place could use some dazzle.

Signs of decline were everywhere. The bright awnings and ice cream signs failed to hide poorly kept houses, empty storefronts, and potholed roads. New Milton might get by in the summer, but the winters must be long, cold, and empty. His new development would change all that. It would bring visitors year-round—wealthy ones looking for upscale spas and bars, restaurants and boutiques. It was a compelling vision and he had no doubt Judy Brennan would buy it once he’d explained the facts. Her reticence about the sale was merely sentimental, after all, and sentiment could never withstand the application of cold, hard financial realities.

As the Majestic came into view, Theo sat forward to get a closer look. He was familiar with the details, having seen several photographs, but this was his first visit in person. And he had to admit, he was charmed. The Majestic was a grand old lady of a building, built in the Queen Anne style of the late nineteenth century. But her glory days were behind her. The slate on those beautiful Dutch gables had clearly been patched, the pedimented porch clumsily repaired, and the balustrades on the elegant third floor balconies, once painted in pretty beach pastels, were peeling badly. But that romantic round tower, reaching up to the clear blue sky, was spectacular, and Theo felt a pang of regret that the old place would have to come down.

Still, there was no choice; the style simply didn’t fit with Lux Properties’ portfolio. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine the sleek new build in her place: the manicured clifftop golf course, the private beach below, and beyond it the wide gray Atlantic. It would be chic, modern, and aspirational. In short, everything the Lux brand represented. He smiled, heart pumping as the familiar rush of adrenaline took hold.

This, he could do.This, he was good at. And when he left later that afternoon he’d be heading back to Manhattan with the deal done, his partnership a step closer, and all thoughts of golden-haired demigods left far, far behind...

Chapter Three

Luca tugged at the collar of his shirt, uncomfortable in the heat.

“You didn’t have to dress up,” Jude said, coming to join him on the porch. They were watching the drive, waiting for the arrival of the bean counter from Lux Properties. “Mr. Wishart is here to impressus, not the other way around.”

Luca shrugged. Truth was, he’d changed into a shirt and dress pants because he wanted this Wishart guy to take him seriously when he told him where he could shove his plans. And people didn’t take you seriously in board shorts and flip-flops—much like the WASP-y asshole in town earlier. And why was he still thinking about him? So what if he’d been cute? Cute guys could be assholes, too, and frequently were in Luca’s experience.

“Good heavens, Luca, what’s got your goat?” Jude said. “You look like you swallowed a wasp.”

Chance would be a fine thing.He allowed himself a wry smile and tugged at the collar of his shirt again. “I had a run-in with a guy in town, is all. Kinda got under my skin.”

“A run-in?” She put a hand on his arm. “Luca, do you mean a fight?”

“No! A literal run-in. We bumped into each other and he was a jerk about it.” He glanced at Don, who sat in the shade close to the door, and added, “Shame, because he was cute.” Don shifted irritably. Praying for Luca’s immortal soul, perhaps? Since he was already hell-bound, Luca added, “Nice ass, too.”

Jude sighed. “Luca, must you?”

“Sorry. Nicebutt.” Which wasn’t at all what she meant and he knew it. But Don could take a flying leap if he thought Luca was going to censor himself in his own home. Whathadbeen his home before Don had wormed his way in. “Shame about the attitude,” he said, squinting out over the long drive. “Or I’d have totally hit on him.”

Jude gave him a sidelong glance, one he couldn’t decipher. Not disapproval, although there was a hint of that. Maybe it was more disappointment. Or—sadness? “You won’t just bump into the right person in town, Luca. You have to get to know someone to find out if they’re right for you.” Her gaze switched to the driveway where a large black Town Car was turning in from the road. “And to do that, you have to stick around a place for more than a few weeks at a time.”

Luca didn’t answer. They’d had this conversation too many times and he wasn’t getting into it again. She’d made her choice when she married a guy who thought Luca’s “lifestyle” was a problem, and Luca didn’t have to live with it—or him. And after five years on the road he had no regrets about his itinerant lifestyle. After all, why make a home someplace when it could just get ripped out from under you? Better to travel light, like the proverbial rolling stone.

Behind him, Don got to his feet, peering at the car crawling down the long drive. “This must be Mr. Wishart.”

“Ya think?” Luca watched the car sweep around and pull up in front of the hotel. The driver, a woman, got out to open the back door for the passenger—who couldn’t even drive his own car, apparently—and a young man climbed out.

Luca stared.

It was him: the jerk from town. Well,thisexplained the entitled attitude—Luca should have guessed. Wishart had donned a navy blazer over his baby blue button-down, the sun adding a gloss to his slick black hair, but Luca would recognize those dark flashing eyes and cut-glass cheekbones anywhere. Which irritated the hell out of him; he refused to be attracted to the asshole who’d come here to destroy the Majestic.

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