Teresa Southwick - The Widow's Bachelor Bargain

“It sounds as if you got to know my assistant pretty well,” he finally said.

“Lovely woman. She invited me to her wedding.”

“Wow. You really did make a good phone impression. I didn’t even get an invitation,” he teased.

“She’s probably concerned that the kind of photographers who follow you around aren’t the ones she wants documenting the most important day of her life.”

Sloan knew she was joking, but that wasn’t far from the truth. Because he had money, his every move seemed to generate a ridiculous amount of public interest—make that female interest. That would give a guy trust issues even if he hadn’t been burned, but Sloan was a wealthy divorced bachelor and deliberately never stayed with the same woman for more than a couple of months.

A man in his position had social obligations and often needed a plus one. On the surface it looked like dating, but he knew it was never going anywhere. So the more women he went out with, the more interest his personal life generated. But he was ultimately an entrepreneur who knew getting his name in the paper was a positive. Even bad publicity could be good.

And interest continued to escalate about whether or not any woman could catch the most eligible bachelor who had said in more than one interview that he would never get married again. That it just wasn’t for him. The remark, intended to snuff out attention, had really backfired on him and created the ultimate challenge for single women looking for a rich husband. He was like the love lottery.

“My assistant knows I’d never let anything spoil her special day.”

“Because you respect the sanctity of marriage so much?” It sounded as if there was the barest hint of sarcasm in her question.

He didn’t doubt that she knew the tabloid version of his disastrous foray into matrimony. It was well documented and also ancient history. “I do for other people,” he answered sincerely.

“Just not for yourself.”

“It’s always good to know your own limitations.”

“Seems smart. And wise,” she agreed. “So how long will you be here?”

“Indefinitely.” That was certainly an indefinite answer. “I handle the construction arm of the company, so it will probably be quite a while. And Blackwater Lake Lodge is undergoing renovations.”

“True.”

He glanced around and found he liked the idea of not living in a hotel for what would probably be months. “You have a nice place here.”

“Thanks. My husband built it.” There was fierce pride in her voice even as a shadow slid into her eyes. “It wasn’t planned as a bed-and-breakfast. We opened a business in town.”

“Oh?”

“Potter’s Ice Cream Parlor on Main Street.”

He nodded. “I saw it on my way here.”

“Danny, my husband—” she glanced at the picture and a softness slipped into her eyes “—thought everything through. Downstairs is the master bedroom with another room for a nursery. But he figured as the kids got older, into their teens, they’d need their privacy—bedrooms and separate baths. And a game room to hang out in. There’s even an outside entrance for the upstairs. I’m not quite sure how he planned to deal with that when they were teenagers.” She shrugged and the light dimmed in her dark eyes. “It didn’t work out as he planned, but it works for my needs now.”

He wouldn’t have asked if she hadn’t brought it up. And he probably shouldn’t have asked anyway, but the question came out before he could stop it. “What are your needs?”

A slight narrowing of her eyes told him she didn’t miss the double entendre, though he hadn’t meant it that way. She answered the question directly. “I decided to expand the ice cream parlor to include a café, a little more healthy and upscale than a coffee shop. Even though I took on a partner, we needed an infusion of capital. The simple answer is that I need the money to pay back the business loan.”

“I see.”

“Josie, my other boarder, has been here for a few months. I’ve known her for a long time and this arrangement works for her. She’s a widow and doesn’t want the responsibility of a big house. When she wants to travel, she can go without worrying about the house she left behind. For the other room, you’re my first. Tenant, I mean.” A becoming flush crept into her cheeks. “Someone from your company who knows my brother contacted him about your housing dilemma and he put them in touch with me.”

“And still you investigated me.” One corner of his mouth curved up.

“It never hurts to be cautious.”

Sloan couldn’t argue with her about that. “So who is your brother?”

“Brady O’Keefe.”

“Hmm.”

She frowned. “Do you know him?”

“Not personally. But I know the name. He did some computer and website work for my company.”

Sloan also knew the guy was pretty well off. The way Maggie had emphasized the word need when talking about money, he was pretty certain her brother hadn’t been involved in raising the capital to expand her business.

“You look puzzled about something, Sloan.”

“I am. But it’s none of my business.”

“Probably not.” She shrugged. “Ask anyway.”

He nodded. “I know your brother by reputation and he has a few bucks. Yet you didn’t get the expansion loan from him.”

One of her eyebrows rose. “How do you know that?”

“Because you said you need money to pay back the loan. I don’t think your brother would pressure you or put you and his niece out on the street if you fell behind on payments.”

“No.” She smiled. “But I wanted to do this on my own. My way.”

“And what way is that?” Not the easy way , Sloan thought.

She glanced at the photograph, then back at him. “When Danny and I opened the ice cream parlor, Brady wanted to help us, but my husband refused. He appreciated the offer, but it was important to him to do it on his own. A respect thing. Some might call it macho male pride.”

“I see.”

“He said it was human nature for people to not appreciate things they didn’t have to work hard for. So we poured our heart, soul, blood, sweat and tears into the project. Our phase one. The plan was always to expand and open the café, but there was a setback when he was killed in Afghanistan.”

“I’m sorry.” Stupid words. So automatic and useless. Why wasn’t there something to say that would actually help?

“Thank you.” She slid her fingers into her jeans’ pockets. “Danny’s gone, so I’m carrying on the dream. The way he would have wanted—without my brother’s help.”

“With three sisters, I can say with certainty that my instinct would be to write a check if they needed it. Brady probably feels that way, too. So how’s he taking this loan thing?”

“You’d think I gave his computer a particularly nasty virus.” She grinned. “Still, I think he’s secretly proud of me.”

Sloan didn’t doubt that. What brother wouldn’t be proud of a sister like her? It would have been easy to let herself be taken care of after losing her husband, but she hadn’t. She was raising their child and running an expanded business plus taking in boarders. Doing things her way. And it was a good way.

She glanced at his empty hands. “I assume you have luggage. I’ll show you to your room, then bring your things up.”

“Thanks, but I’ll get everything.” His way wasn’t to let a woman carry his stuff, especially when that woman looked as if the first stiff breeze would blow her away. He admired her independence, but he did things his way, too. “There’s a lot and some of it is heavy.”

“Okay. Follow me.”

Now, that he didn’t mind doing, because she had an exceptionally fine backside. Aside from her obvious external attributes, there was a lot to like about his new landlady. Smart, straightforward, self-reliant. Salt of the earth. He would bet his last dime that she wasn’t a gold digger.