Playing the Playboy Page 4

  Andrew studied the document. He was no expert, but it looked official and in good order. “I believe that your husband transferred the inn into your name and gave you this deed. The problem is the inn wasn’t legally his to give you.

  She sucked in a sharp breath, obviously holding back an instinctive objection. Her eyes very wide, she replied, “I don’t think that can be right. He inherited it from his grandfather ten years ago. We can go over all my stuff, but I’m sure there couldn’t have been a mistake about that.”

  So Andrew spent the next hour going over paperwork with her. All of it was tidy and well-organized. She had every piece of paper he asked for or could possibly want to see, from a copy of Grayson’s grandfather’s will to her latest electric bill. Someone with no background on Grayson could completely believe that her claim to the inn was legitimate. It worried him a little.

  He commented as briefly as possible, not wanting to give her any ammunition for rebuttal. When he’d gotten through it all, he knew nothing more than when he had started, except that Grayson or Grayson’s grandfather or both had done a great job with the paper trail.

  Leaning back in his chair, he asked her, “Can you tell me in your own words how your husband gave you the inn?”

  “We got married almost eight years ago. I was a manager in a, uh, restaurant in West Virginia, and he started to come by pretty often. We just got to talking.”

  Andrew nodded and let her continue.

  “I’d always loved the Greek islands. I’d never been there before, of course. We didn’t have any money when I was growing up and didn’t travel at all. But the library had a book of pictures of the islands, and I thought it was the most beautiful place in the world.” She trailed off for a minute, looking poignant, wistful. “He knew how much I loved them. In fact, that was how we first connected. He saw a picture I kept…” She trailed off again, differently this time, as if she were flustered. “Anyway, he’d recently inherited this inn from his grandfather and, because I loved the islands so much, he gave it to me.”

  “He just gave it to you?”

  “Well, it was a present.” She looked briefly flustered again. “A…an anniversary present. On our first anniversary.”

  “How did his grandfather come to purchase the inn from the original owner, Aaron Lantapoulis?”

  She blinked her thick eyelashes and frowned, as if she were thinking hard. “I don’t really know. I never paid attention to all that stuff.”

  “So why did he make a point of putting the inn in your name? Wouldn’t it have been the same to keep it in his name? You still could have lived here.”

  “It was a present. I’d never owned anything in my life. I’d never had…anything, really. Not even a car. He thought owning the inn would make me happy.” She sniffed a little. “It did.”

  Andrew felt like an ass.

  If her story were true—and he had no reason to believe it wasn’t—then she was just an innocent victim in this.

  “I hope we’ll be able to work something out,” she added, her wide, sensual mouth wobbling slightly. “This inn is all I have. We used up all our savings in the bankruptcy. I have nothing left.”

  Andrew could well believe it. She’d married young. She had no higher education. No remarkable job skills. It would be nice if he would be able to hire her as a manager here at the inn, but he didn’t think his uncle would go for it. They needed a manager who understood how to make the inn profitable, which clearly hadn’t happened yet.

  He cleared his throat again, feeling awkward as she gazed at him with those soft brown eyes. He wasn’t sure what he should say. He couldn’t offer any hope.

  “Would it help to talk to my lawyer?” she asked.

  Andrew relaxed. That would be much safer territory. “That might be a good idea.”

  “Okay. I’ll call him and set something up.” She smiled again and started collecting her papers.

  Andrew hoped his new responsibilities with the family business wouldn’t require evicting any more pitiful widows.

  ***

  He worked on email and phone calls all afternoon, trying to catch up with all the other issues that wouldn’t be put on a hold while he handled the inn. He worked through dinner, just eating in his room—thinking less contact would probably make it easier for him to maintain an objective distance, since he was starting to feel sorry for Laurel.

  Not to mention still wanting to get her into bed.

  It was just after eight when he finally got through what was most urgent, but instead of feeling a sense of accomplishment, he felt tense, stressed, and annoyed by everything. Needing to unwind, he decided he might take a dip in the pool and work out the kinks in his neck and back.

  He didn’t know how his uncle and Harrison did this kind of work day in and day out.

  He didn’t see anyone at all as he climbed the stairs to the pool level.

  The sun was low, the light slanting onto the pool deck and burnishing the clear water. He blinked in the blinding view. It was a small pool but well-kept, and there was a tempting outdoor bed in the far corner, made of exotic wood and canopied with light, airy fabric.

  He made this brief, initial assessment before he realized he wasn’t alone on the deck.

  Laurel was stretched out on a chaise near the pool, her hair loose and her eyes covered by big, dark sunglasses. She wore little red bikini bottoms, cut high so they lengthened her shapely legs.

  She wasn’t wearing a top.

  Andrew stared, his body immediately reacting to the sight of her firm breasts and tight, shaded nipples.

  For some reason, his physical response was more intense than it should have been—his arousal heightening too quickly. Perhaps because he’d come across her so unexpectedly.

  A faint flicker of sense told him he couldn’t just stand there gaping, so he cleared his throat.

  Laurel choked in surprise, jerking to a sitting position, the motion causing her breasts to jiggle in a way that did nothing to discourage his hardening erection. “What are you doing?” she gasped, covering her chest with one arm.

  He turned away, trying to be polite even though he really wanted to keep staring. She looked even more luscious now with mussed hair and flushed cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were here.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her scrambling for her bikini top and then fumbling to hook it on.

  “Should I leave?” he asked, his voice a little more stretched than he’d intended. He instructed his body to settle down, but it ignored him.

  “No, no,” she said in a rush, getting up off the chaise. “I was just surprised. Sorry for the melodramatics.” She was smiling when he glanced back, the wide, not-quite-sincere smile. “Women don’t wear tops a lot here, and it’s nice for private sunbathing. But I guess I’m still too American to be comfortable with it when I’m not prepared. Please, stay. You’re more than welcome to use the pool. Do you want a drink?”

  “Sure,” Andrew said, mostly just to distract her. Fortunately he was holding a towel, but he still felt like an over-eager adolescent who’d gotten an embarrassing hard-on at the drop of a hat.

  If he could just make a move on her, it wouldn’t be a problem. He was used to getting turned on when he had an immediate outlet for the physical response.

  He really shouldn’t hit on Laurel, however. It might be complicated. Harrison and his uncle would never do such a thing when business was at stake, and Andrew wasn’t going to blow his first chance to prove himself to them. Plus, she obviously wasn’t a one-night-stand type of woman, since she’d backed out rather dramatically of what would obviously have been casual sex the previous evening.

  He stepped into the pool, hoping the water was cold. It wasn’t. It was pleasantly warm and did nothing to extinguish his arousal.

  Laurel had grabbed two bottles of beer from the mini-fridge near the chaise and brought them over to the pool. She stepped in, her body still intensely tempting in the bikini. She looked flushed and a
little self-conscious, but she was trying to act casual. “You’re just in time for Oia’s famous sunset.”

  Andrew looked toward the horizon, grateful for something else to focus on. It was stunning—the sun a startling salmon color and surrounded by streaks of orange, purple, and pink, all of it reflected on the water of the Aegean. He swallowed a gulp of beer and gave his body a stern talking-to, which it continued to ignore, since it was still visualizing Laurel’s naked body.

  When he glanced over, he noticed she was looking at him with what looked like attraction in her eyes. He was usually good at spotting it.

  He sucked in a sharp breath—the look of surprised desire on her face heightening his own response—and leaned toward her unconsciously, since she seemed to be leaning toward him.

  A rush of hunger overwhelmed him, and he nearly gave it free rein, but a last lingering thread of responsibility caused him to freeze, then lean back a little awkwardly.

  He was here on a job, and he couldn’t indulge his lust until he had the business aspect under control.

  Laurel looked equally awkward and even more flushed than before. She said something innocuous and not entirely articulate, and then she climbed out of the pool, stumbling slightly on the step up.

  He thought she said goodnight, and he must have responded in kind, but his ears were buzzing with unsatisfied arousal, and he felt more embarrassed than he could remember feeling in years.

  What the hell was wrong with him anyway? He’d never felt awkward or uncertain around women—not since he was sixteen years old. Interacting with women was the one thing he’d always done better than anyone else.

  He didn’t even really like Laurel Grayson.

  If only he could convince his body.

  Chapter Three

  Laurel’s lawyer was an aged, wispy gentleman in a seersucker suit, and he evidently still worked without a computer.

  Both the office and the man smelled like peppermint and tobacco, and Andrew’s gut sank as soon as he walked in for the appointment Laurel had arranged for him.

  The lawyer, who introduced himself as Hudson Waverly III in cultured British English, was evidently an ex-pat. “Well, Mr. Damon. Well, let’s see. Can you tell me why you’re the one handling this misunderstanding and not a lawyer?”

  Andrew couldn’t tell if the man was impressed by him or annoyed by his lack of qualifications. Andrew was unqualified to handle complex legal and business matters—except for his being a Damon and having a functioning brain.

  “The Damons have been so successful because we take care of problems ourselves, rather than delegating,” Andrew said smoothly, giving a canned answer he’d heard many times before. “If we decide to pursue our legal options, then naturally we’ll bring in our lawyers.”

  He and Waverly discussed the background for a few minutes—going over the inheritance of the inn and how Grayson had put it in his wife’s name—but he learned nothing more than Laurel had offered as information the day before.

  Andrew grew increasingly concerned as the meeting went on and he tried to get clear answers from the scattered gentlemen across the desk. Laurel would get eaten alive if she relied on this dinosaur for legal counsel.

  Finally, he asked, “Do you have an estimate of how much money she and her husband invested in the property since it came into their possession? I mean, beyond the regular upkeep and operating expenses.”

  “Well,” Waverly began, shuffling through a pile of papers. “Well, well, let me see.”

  Andrew bit his tongue as he waited in silence, summoning all his patience. A good lawyer, even a moderately prepared lawyer, would have that kind of information on the tip of his tongue.

  Finally, Waverly landed on the document he needed. He peered at it. Then put on a pair of reading glasses and peered at it some more. Evidently, he was old-school and thought it crass to talk aloud about money, so he wrote a number on a piece of scrap paper and handed it to Andrew.

  Andrew read it, his mind starting to buzz with a new idea. It was a significant amount of money, but it was a pittance compared to the worth of the property. Andrew did some quick math in his head and determined that, with some initial improvements to the inn, they could make this amount back in the first year.

  He might be able to convince his uncle to give this amount of money back to Laurel as a settlement—to compensate for what she and her husband had spent to improve the inn and to acknowledge that she’d been acting in good faith in her possession of it.

  It would be enough money to get her started. She could settle somewhere comfortably enough, perhaps on another Greek island. She could find a way to make a living or even another husband without too much trouble.

  He ended the meeting politely and walked back to the inn, since it was just a couple of miles. He was pleased with this plan. It would treat Laurel fairly, since he was convinced she didn’t know that her claim to the inn was illegitimate, and it would cleanly settle an otherwise messy situation. That alone would be worth the money.

  Andrew’s spirits rose as he walked. Now he wouldn’t have to feel like a jerk when he saw Laurel and, at the same time, he wouldn’t let his family down.

  He was climbing down the steep stairs that led to the main level of the inn and thinking about how they might be rebuilt as less of a hazard when he saw Laurel walk out of the entrance, trailed by the dogs.

  She wore gray shorts, a black tank-top, and her big sunglasses. Her hair was pulled back in a single braid.

  “Where are you off to?” he called.

  “I’m going for a walk,” she replied, almost warily. “How was the meeting?”

  “Good. I have a few ideas. I’ll need to talk to the central office.”

  She nodded absently as she approached him, but didn’t ask anything further. He couldn’t quite get a handle on her attitude toward him. Sometimes she was perfectly polite, like she was going out of her way to be nice to him. And other times she didn’t seem to like him at all.

  He figured she probably resented his presence but was trying to be civilized about the situation.

  “Where are you walking?”

  “Down to the beach. The dogs love it.”

  “Oh, there’s beach access here?”

  She smiled. “Of a sort.” She’d reached the foot of the steps.

  The cliff dropped so sharply into the caldera there was no useable beach in the immediate vicinity. Intrigued, he asked, “Would you mind company?” He’d planned to call his uncle, but that could wait an hour.

  “I guess you can come.”

  It wasn’t the most enthusiastic of invitations, but it was better than an outright refusal. They climbed back up the steps and walked down the road. After several minutes, they turned off onto a dirt and rock path.

  The landscape was similar to what he’d seen throughout the island—volcanic rock, scrubby grasses and shrubs, and huge expanses of sea and sky. The dogs were evidently familiar with the walk. They weren’t leashed, so they ran ahead, snuffling along the path and gamboling with obvious enthusiasm. Twice Theo started to chase a bird, and Laurel had to call him back.

  Laurel smiled at Andrew some, but they didn’t talk much. For some reason, it was a relief. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was refreshing. So much better than empty small talk.

  Andrew felt really good, freed from the weight of responsibility of the last two days. He was satisfied with his solution to the problem. It would treat everyone fairly and leave no one with nothing.

  He was also more and more attracted to the woman walking in front of him. He could barely tear his eyes from her sleek, tanned legs, the curve of her fine ass beneath her shorts, and her graceful neck and shoulders.

  He vividly recalled what she’d looked like the day before, nearly naked and stretched out on the chaise.

  His body tightened at the memory.

  He recalled how she’d looked the first time he’d seen her, flustered and gorgeous with a flat tire. He liked that he’d been able to
help her when she needed it.

  “Who was the friend you were going to parasail with the other day?” he asked, following the course of his thoughts.

  She blinked, obviously startled by the blurted question. “Just…just a friend.”

  Her reply was so stilted he immediately thought she was hiding something. “A close friend?” There was no reason for him to feel jealous at the thought of her having a boyfriend. A woman as beautiful as Laurel must have her choice of men.

  But he felt jealous anyway. He didn’t like the idea of any other man taking her out, putting his hands on her, being close to her that way.

  She glanced away. “Just a friend. I have a few, you know.”

  “Of course you do.” He was surprised by her tone, and he couldn’t figure out a reason for her mood. To change the subject, he asked, “What prompted the parasailing?”

  She looked surprised again. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. Just a question. I was just wondering why you got the sudden urge to parasail, especially with everything going on…” He trailed off, since he suddenly felt guilty, since it was his family who was threatening her security, no matter how just their claim to the inn was.

  “I just wanted…I guess, I wanted to do something I was afraid of doing—just to prove to myself I could.”

  He suddenly understood her in a way he hadn’t before, felt closer to her than he had just the moment before. He’d experienced it before himself, taking a risk for no other reason than to prove the world couldn’t defeat him.

  She walked a few steps ahead of him, but now she turned back to smile, stray wisps of dark hair blowing around her face. Andrew smiled back, wondering if she was as off-limits as he’d believed, now that he’d found a workable solution to their dispute.

  She intrigued him—like a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

  And she was so incredibly gorgeous.

  Andrew had been trying to turn over a new leaf, committing to his work and responsibilities, but that didn’t mean he had to live like a monk.

  Both he and Laurel were adults. He knew they’d be good together. Sex wouldn’t have to get in the way of a satisfying settlement, now that he had a plan for one.