Jason checked in with the hostess, then turned to Sasha. “Looks like they beat us here.” He craned his neck. “There they are. Brenda’s the blonde in the corner sitting with the guy wearing glasses.”
Brenda Jackson, the mayor of Holland Springs, rose to her feet as soon as she spied them, waving Sasha and Jason to her table. Tall and willowy like her daughter Jemma Leigh, she exuded warmth and charm. “Alexander Romanov, what a delight,” she said, her friendly smile reaching her eyes. “It’s so good to put a face with a voice.”
“Lovely to meet you in person, Brenda.” Sasha extended his hand and shook the mayor’s, then the bank president’s. Harrison Collins removed his glasses and tucked them into the inside pocket of his jacket. Sasha couldn’t help but think that he’d met him before. It didn’t matter. He had a job to do. He gave his dinner companions a brief smile and said, “Let’s get down to business, shall we?”
“The Hollands won’t sell Strawberry Grove,” Harrison said, his gray eyes emotionless in the candlelight as Sasha and Jason sat down at the table.
A guilty flush covered the mayor’s face. “I still don’t like the idea of putting those poor girls out on the street. Where would they go?”
Jason tipped his glass back and took a swallow of wine. “They can live in the apartment over the store. It’s only Rose and that kid of Summer’s living in the house, anyhow.”
Brenda frowned and picked at her salad.
“We haven’t heard a job count yet. How do we know that they won’t build the plant and bring their own people over? I’m not taking it to my board for consideration until we have concrete numbers,” Harrison said.
“Good point. It’s hard to persuade people to get behind seizing someone’s land for the ‘common good’ if there aren’t any jobs. Looks bad to the press, too, and I wouldn’t be able to advise the town council to vote for it without good reason.” Jason looked at Sasha. “What’s the latest?”
“Nahalah is guaranteeing five hundred jobs. Ones that pay well and have excellent benefits,” Sasha said, ignoring the sharp stabs of guilt.
Harrison smiled. Something started to click in Sasha brain, but the man’s next words obliterated the thought. “Looks like Rose’s loan is coming due soon—in full—and if she can’t pay…” He raised his brows and shrugged.
“Loan?” Sasha asked, his glass of water hovering inches from his mouth. This was quickly becoming ridiculous. First he’d been caught unaware about the former job, then the baby, and now a business loan.
“How do you think she got the money to start Carolina Dreams?”
“Please, Harrison, people have been coming to the Hollands for years and paying them for their services.” Brenda grabbed a roll and smeared some butter on it. “Heck, Lake Holland sent me and Nolan to the springs. We’ve been married for thirty-five years now.”
“I can’t believe you think that love potion, mumbo-jumbo crap they put out there is real, Brenda.” Jason shook his head.
She looked affronted. “Rose Holland helped my little girl catch a nice man. One that loves her and owns a business.”
“And smells like fish,” Jason sneered.
“No one’s above a decent day of work,” Harrison said.
“Thank you,” Brenda said, flashing a smile at the bank president.
“So smelling bad equals decency?” Jason said with a smirk. “Guess I’ll never be decent.”
Shaking his head, Harrison signaled the waiter for another drink.
Placing his glass down, Sasha rubbed the back of his neck. How a woman like Rose had ever become involved with a man like Jason blew his mind. The lawyer was a transparent snob and womanizer. “Are you from Holland Springs, Mr. Everett?”
“Call me Jason, and no, I’m from a town fifty miles south.” He wiped his mouth with his cloth napkin. “I moved here about a year and a half ago.”
Sasha could picture it: A new guy in town, presumably unaware of her family’s history, with an easy smile and charm. Takes her out, gets to know her, seduces her, and then leaves her. But could he really hate Jason for the exact same thing he’d done to Rose? Did it matter that his only redeeming quality was that he hadn’t had sex with her?
The waiter placed their food in front of them, but Sasha wasn’t remotely hungry.
Harrison pierced a small piece of salmon with his fork. “How did you talk Rose into letting a complete stranger stay at her home?”
“I knew her from before.” Sasha took a quick bite of his shrimp and grits. “And I’m renting a room, not merely staying there.”
Brenda’s brows drew together. “Before?”
“The first time I visited your lovely town, I had the pleasure of meeting Rose at her shop.”
“Oh.” The mayor’s brows relaxed, but she wasn’t convinced. “Still, Rose isn’t what most would call outgoing. She keeps to herself.”
“All Rose needs is the right kind of incentive,” Jason chimed in, “Out of the three of them, Summer’s the most…hospitable.”
Sasha swallowed, imagining his fist connecting with the lawyer’s nose. “Rose is very giving of herself.”
“I’ll say.” Jason tracked a woman wearing a tight red skirt as she sauntered across the room. He winked at her and she flung her hair over a shoulder, giving him a flirtatious smile.
“Azalea was like that, never turned someone in need away,” Harrison said.
Sasha raised his brows. “I assume you’re speaking of their mother.”
Harrison nodded. “She took off seven years ago, right after Rose turned sixteen. Skye couldn’t have been more than thirteen, and Summer eighteen, but she was playing house with Patrick Johnson.”
Why would Collins bother to know the personal details of three women who were outcasts in their own town? If anyone else thought that comment to be strange, they didn’t voice it.
Jason made a noise of disgust. “Sixty-five year old Patrick Johnson or his son, Junior?”
“Now I’m not one to spread gossip, but she lived with both of them,” Brenda said, shifting in her chair, then patted a stray hair back in place. “But who knows?”
“What I do know is that Summer Holland made off with five thousand dollars and Junior’s Mustang when she was done with them.” Disapproval was written all over Harrison’s face. “Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree in that family.”
“Except Rose and Skye,” Sasha pointed out.
Harrison turned steel eyes on him, but Sasha didn’t waver. “Time will tell.”
Jason rapped his knuckles on the table, garnering everyone’s attention. He leaned forward in his chair. “Let’s focus on the issue at hand. I’ve got an idea that’s been running in my mind. Destroy her business—make people think her stuff is no good. If she doesn’t have the income to pay off her back taxes, well, she’ll have no choice but to sell.”
Brenda rose to her feet. “Either get her to sell her home the legal and honest way, or count me out of this scheme.” She left the table and headed to the front of the restaurant with her purse.“Is she going to be a problem?” Sasha wiped his mouth with his napkin and placed it beside his plate, unable to force down another bite.
Harrison threw back the last of his Jack and Coke. “Brenda will come around.”
Sasha hoped to God she wouldn’t. If the deal fell through because of the mayor’s guilty conscience, then the blame couldn’t be placed on him and his mother was still safe. “I have to go.” He rose to his feet in one fluid motion. He needed a drink. Hell, he needed the whole damn bar.
Harrison and Jason looked at him in obvious surprise. “I thought we were going out after dinner,” the younger man said, then a gleam entered his eyes. “Perks of your living arrangement?”
“No, I’m meeting a friend,” Sasha said, reaching for his wallet.
Harrison held up a hand. “This is on me.”
“My thanks.” Sasha grabbed his coat from the back of the chair and shoved his arms inside, thankful for once that there hadn’t been a coat checker.
“I can give you some pointers on how to loosen her up on the way back.” Jason offered a conspiratorial smile and stood as well. He fumbled for his coat.
“Much appreciated, but not needed.” For the love of God, did this asshole ever shut up about his Rose? No, not Sasha’s Rose. She belonged to no one, especially not to him. “Gentlemen, have a fantastic evening.”
“Wait! You can’t leave me here,” Jason protested as he pulled the navy material over his shoulders.
Harrison waved him away. “Let him go. You can ride with me.”
“Fantastic,” Sasha said, then strolled through the dining room and out the entrance as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
Cold October air greeted him, working its way inside his bones. Finding all of his vulnerable spots. He welcomed it. A man like him didn’t deserve warmth or softness.
He watched as couples holding hands waited for their cars. As they kissed and looked at each other with dreamy eyes and talked about their bloody feelings. They would be headed home. Together. Talking about their past and their futures.
He, too, would be headed home. To a woman whose future he had to take away.
***
It was almost three in the morning when Rose heard the back door open and close. She turned over and fluffed her pillow, watching the light of the baby monitor as it changed colors with the sounds of Sasha’s loud, clumsy movements. Something crashed to the floor and he cursed.
Drawing back the covers, she rose from the bed and made her way to the door. Opening it a crack, she listened. Another series of crashes sounded and she found herself walking to his room.
Wearing nothing but a cotton nightgown with small straps, she shivered in the cold night air and wished she’d had the presence of mind to put on her robe. The mass of curls covering her shoulders provided a thin barrier against the night’s chill. At his door, she knocked and called out, “Are you okay?”
There was no answer.
She knocked again, louder this time. “Sasha?” As she turned the knob, the door swung open so quickly that she almost stumbled inside.
Sasha loomed over her, wearing only a dark pair of jeans with the top button undone. His sculpted chest rose and fell with steady movements, nipple rings gleaming in the dim light. Washboard abs complemented lean hips as he stretched his arms above his head, grabbing the frame and leaning forward.
“There was a reason I didn’t answer you, Rose,” he said, blocking her from seeing the room.
“Why are you wearing jeans?” He didn’t strike her as a jeans kind of man.
His heated gaze traveled to her face. “Couldn’t answer the door in the buff, could I?”
He slept in the nude? Or had he brought a woman home with him? Maybe that was why he was making all that racket. He was too busy getting it on to care about not breaking her things.
He shifted to one side and she risked a peek at the bed. Nothing. Blackbeard raced past her and jumped on Sasha’s mattress, circling once before lying down. “Why does your cat think my room is his?”
Because it used to be hers. “How did you get home?”
“Taxi driver from hell. I think he ripped me off,” he grumbled.
“You took a taxi?”
“I could hardly drive in my condition.”
The smell of alcohol wafted over her face, and she wrinkled her nose. “You’ve been drinking.”
He pinched his thumb and forefinger together. “Only a wee bit, love.”
“I thought you never drank.” Or at least, that’s what he had told her on their date. Then again, he’d also told her that he wasn’t coming back.
“There’s lots of things I thought I’d never do.” The perfect curve of his mouth flattened.
“Like what?”
“It’s really none of your business,” he said, throwing the familiar phrase back in her face. “You’ve reached your maximum of questions to ask. Thanks for playing.”
“Whatever.” Exhaustion hit her hard and she rubbed her eyes. This wasn’t the time for conversation. It was early morning and her toes were frozen. Like an idiot she’d been concerned for him. Okay, so if she was really honest, she wanted to know how his dinner went. What Jason had said. She was more worried about his big mouth than anything Harrison Collins might have shared with Sasha.
She reached for her necklace and rubbed it, watching as he tracked her movements with his knowing eyes.
“Still cross with me?” He slowly reached for her, the pad of his thumb rubbing her bottom lip. His touch lulled her and made her stomach do cartwheels at the same time.
She dropped the pendant, working up the courage to ask what she’d been dying to know. “Did Jason say anything about me?”
His thumb moved to the curve of her cheek and his eyes glittered. “Is he important to you?”
“No.” Jason had humiliated her and it still hurt to think about it, much less talk about the whole sordid tale. She lowered her lashes and she stared at his feet. They were long and perfectly formed, like the rest of him.
“When’s the last time you’ve been on a date, sweetheart?” he asked in that sexy voice of his, sliding his hand down the side of her throat and cupping the back of her neck, the pressure light. Tantalizing.
She could lie. She could say she’d dated every man who’d caught her eye, but it was three a.m. and she was standing in her nightgown at the doorway of the man who she wanted more than anything. “Not since you and I went out. I don’t really date much.” Try not at all since Jason (with the exception of Sasha), and before either of them she hadn’t had the time. Or rather, made the time. Most men around here wanted more than she was willing to give. But when she’d met Sasha, she’d taken the chance he’d be different.