Playing the Playboy Read online

  For just a moment, she thought she might have hurt him. He grew very still, and his expression went strangely blank. Then he smiled, a smooth smile that was utterly empty. “I tried to make things easy for you, but since you clearly have no desire to cooperate with us, this won’t be easy anymore.”

  Her stomach dropped sickeningly as she realized what she’d done, how much she’d blown in the angry outburst. To hide her reaction, she gritted out, “Get out. Get out of my home!”

  He didn’t respond, just stood and looked at her. She suspected he was still furious, but he wasn’t showing it now in any way.

  She’d thought she was just as good at hiding her feelings, but she obviously wasn’t.

  She turned on her heel and left the room, resisting the impulse to slam the door behind her.

  Then she hurried up three flights of stairs until she’d reached the dogs’ yard. They were all lying out in the sun, having their afternoon naps, but they jumped up when she came out and hurried over to greet her.

  She knelt down to pet and stroke them, letting them nuzzle her affectionately. When Theo sniffed her face in concern, she wrapped her arms around his fuzzy neck.

  Her shoulders shook as she buried her face in his fur.

  She’d messed up. She’d ruined everything. There was absolutely no way the Damons wouldn’t come after her now. She’d had a chance to maneuver a way out of this, get Andrew on her side and get him to support her side of the situation.

  But she’d blown it completely. He would never take her side now.

  And she might have just lost her inn—her home—in the process.

  Andrew had been right about her. She was used to managing things on her own. Making things happen. She’d managed to be self-sufficient all her life.

  She had no idea what to do now, though. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so helpless.

  She wasn’t a woman who cried. The last time she’d cried had been when Jerry died. But her shoulders kept shaking, and a few sobs choked out before she could suppress them.

  She wanted to blame Andrew, but it wasn’t really his fault.

  She was the one who’d blown it. The fault was all hers. But she wasn’t the only one who would suffer for it.

  Chapter Six

  “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do about it,” Andrew said through a clenched jaw, his phone tucked between his chin and shoulder as he ineptly folded a pair of trousers and tossed them in his open suitcase. “She rejected our offer in no uncertain terms.”

  “What’s wrong with the woman?” his uncle demanded on the other end of the line. “Is she holding out for more money?”

  “I don’t think so. She thinks the inn is hers, and she wants to keep it.”

  Andrew managed to keep his voice level and business-like, as if this was simply an unexpected complication, but he didn’t feel business-like. He was deeply disturbed by his last encounter with Laurel, by how much he’d wanted to kiss her when she was looking at his chest, compelled by an aching tenderness that was entirely new to him.

  When immediately followed by the desire to wring her neck, it was enough to unsettle him completely.

  He no longer needed to put up with this, with her. His life had always run along effortlessly. It had gotten harder last month, when he’d taken on some of his brother’s work responsibilities, but even then he hadn’t felt like his life was spinning in every direction at once.

  He didn’t like this feeling, and he didn’t have to put up with it. He could go back home and deal with the inn from a distance, through an army of lawyers if necessary.

  It had always worked for him before. When things got messy, Andrew just moved on. It was long since time to move on from here.

  “Andrew? Did you hear me?”

  “No,” he said, startled by his uncle’s annoyed inquiry. “Sorry. What did you say?”

  “I asked what your next step was going to be.”

  “I’m heading out now, and then I’ll figure out the best legal strategy. It will take longer this way, but I don’t think she’s going to budge. I’ve never met a more obstinate woman.”

  There was a too-long pause. Then Damon said, “You shouldn’t make decisions when you’re angry.”

  “I’m not angry. I’m just fed up.” Andrew had finished packing his bag, so he zipped it up with a feeling of relief. “You’d understand if you had to deal with her. I can get a flight off the island pretty quickly and be back by this evening.”

  Another pause—one that made Andrew nervous. Then, “You can’t leave.”

  “What?”

  “You can’t leave. It will put us at a disadvantage we can’t afford.”

  “She told me to get out. There was no mistaking it. I’ll stay on the island if you need me to, but I’ve got to leave the inn.”

  “You can’t leave the inn. Part of the reason I wanted you there was because, for the legal system in certain areas, actual possession of the property has a higher claim than any sort of official documentation.”

  Andrew made a sound of disgust.

  “I’m serious. We’ve seen it make a difference in the past. We lost that property in Slovenia for just that reason.”

  “There was more going on in that situation,” Andrew objected. “And this is Greece, not Slovenia.”

  “Perhaps, but it’s not worth the risk. Your brother could tell you a thing or two about property law in Greece.”

  Andrew had picked up his case, but now he set it down on the bed again. He took a deep breath and made himself ignore his uncle’s last comment.

  He was perfectly well aware that his brother knew more about the law than he did. Andrew hadn’t gone to law school, and his only experience was a decade of thrill-seeking and partying.

  Harrison wasn’t dealing with this, however. Andrew was. And, despite his uncle’s assumptions, he wasn’t a complete incompetent.

  “What would suggest I do? Barricade myself in this room?”

  “I doubt it will come to that. She wouldn’t risk bringing in the authorities to evict you at this point. Is there someone on the premises who is physically capable of throwing you out?”

  Andrew thought about Hector and Agatha. “No. Unless she’s friends with a gang of thugs I don’t know about.”

  “If you think there’s physical danger to you, then naturally we’ll make other plans, but otherwise you need to stay put, so she can’t claim possession of the property over us. Do you think she would resort to physical force to remove you if she could?”

  Andrew was tempted to say yes, just so he could get out of this mess. Some nagging sense of conscience wouldn’t let him, however. “No. She’s not like that.”

  “All right then. Remain where you are, and work out a strategy from there. Morris Provost is an expert on these kinds of situations. You’ve met him, haven’t you? Get in touch with him, and he’ll help you put a plan together for moving forward.”

  “I’ll have to do something about food, unless you think it’s appropriate that I raid her kitchen during my prolonged sit-in.”

  “Don’t be melodramatic. You have more right than she does to live in the property. I’m sure you’ll manage to feed yourself in the meantime. Call me later today and report.”

  Andrew stared at the phone for a minute after his uncle ended the call.

  He just wasn’t used to this sort of thing. He was usually quite adept at avoiding conflict, either by convincing the other person there wasn’t any cause for ill-feelings or by simply leaving. He certainly had never been forced to put so much effort into dealing with a difficult situation and have absolutely no way to get himself out of it.

  He didn’t like it. No wonder he’d spent so long avoiding his family’s business. He wished he was more like Harrison and could distance himself, keeping professional issues in a little compartment that didn’t bleed into the rest of his life.

  Laurel hated him. Andrew could understand why she did, and there was no telling in any given moment whethe
r he would want to strangle her, have sex with her, or somehow fix all her problems.

  But this was his job now. For the first time in his life, his uncle was really counting on him. For once, he wasn’t going to let him down.

  ***

  Laurel wasn’t a bit hungry, but she made herself eat a sandwich as she reorganized the pantry. The pantry didn’t need reorganizing, but she needed a distraction from Andrew, and organizing always made her feel better, more secure—as if there were things in life she could really control.

  She couldn’t control Andrew, and that fact was really upsetting.

  As she worked, she tried to think of a new plan. She’d given up on her first plan, since she wasn’t cold enough to have sex merely as ammunition to use against the Damons. She’d ruined her next plan of earning his sympathy by getting angry. Andrew would never be on her side now, but there must be something else she could do to give herself an advantage once the legal process started up for real.

  She knew the Damons must have a very good legal argument for their claim to the inn, or they wouldn’t be doing this. Cyrus Damon had an intimidating reputation for playing hardball, but he’d never been known to cheat or steal. The fact that she still didn’t know exactly what their claim was to the inn worried her.

  They hadn’t told her since they didn’t want her preparing a defense.

  She didn’t have money for a good lawyer. She didn’t even have money for the lawyer she had. Waverly had agreed to help her out of the goodness of his heart, but his legal expertise wasn’t worth much anyway. He was only going to provide a minimal amount of protection against the army of lawyers the Damons would send after her.

  She was good at making plans. She’d figure out something to do. She just needed to focus.

  After removing all the canned goods from a shelf, wiping down the shelf, wiping down each can, and then replacing them in neat rows with the labels easily visible, she finished her sandwich and went to throw away the napkin she’d been holding it in.

  As she did, she caught a glimpse of Andrew climbing the steep stairs toward the parking area.

  He must be leaving. She was glad. She never wanted to see him again.

  He made her feel confused and helpless and a lot of other emotions she should never have indulged even briefly.

  She wondered why he didn’t have his bags with him as he left.

  That incongruity was strange enough to prompt her to walk up to his room. The door was locked, but she had a master key, so she let herself in.

  He hadn’t even started to pack. His clothes were in the drawers and the closet. His laptop lay closed on the desk. A pair of brown leather shoes were tossed haphazardly in the general vicinity of the closet.

  She instinctively lined them up on the floor of the closet. Then she realized what she’d done.

  He wasn’t her guest, he wasn’t her friend, and he wasn’t her lover. He was unlawfully trespassing in her home when she’d told him clearly to leave.

  She went back to the closet and pulled out his suitcase. She set it on the bed, opened it, and started to neatly fold his clothes up until the closet and dresser drawers were empty.

  Then she went into the bathroom and gathered his shower and shaving supplies, packing them efficiently in the case he’d left on the counter.

  She felt a little strange handling his personal items this way. Her belly twisted uncomfortably as she thought about him doing domestic things like shaving and brushing his teeth. She ignored the feeling, however, and finished packing him up, concluding by sliding the laptop into the beat-up leather messenger bag he used for a briefcase.

  If she’d been someone else, she would try to get into his laptop and see if she could find any helpful or incriminating information. He probably had it password-protected, however, and she wasn’t a thief or a spy.

  She hauled his bags down the stairs and set them in a neat pile on the entry terrace, just at the bottom of the stairs.

  She nodded in satisfaction and went around and locked every door in the inn, so he couldn’t get back inside. There were a lot of them. It took her several minutes.

  She told Agatha and Hector what was happening, and they didn’t even raise their eyebrows. Just nodded and went about their business.

  Laurel wasn’t exactly pleased with herself. She felt kind of sick. She needed to proceed with making a plan for saving her inn, though, and the first step was getting rid of Andrew.

  She went back to reorganizing the pantry, but she regularly checked out the window to see if he had returned. Nearly an hour later, she saw him walking down the steps.

  She went closer to the window so she could see more clearly.

  He’d been taking the stairs quickly, but he slowed halfway down, as if he’d just seen his belongings waiting for him down on the terrace.

  He was carrying several canvas bags hooked over his arms. They were bags one could get at the local grocery store.

  Laurel sucked in a breath, a new and disturbing idea coming into her mind.

  She had to go to another window in order to see the terrace. By the time she had, Andrew had reached his stuff.

  He adjusted the canvas bags onto one arm and used the other to pick up his luggage.

  Then he carried all of it—not up the stairs toward the road but toward the inn. He didn’t try to go into the lobby but instead walked around the main building, she assumed heading toward the back door that led up to the room he’d been using before.

  Laurel sucked in an outraged breath. Surely he wouldn’t… There was no way he could think about staying when she’d told him to leave.

  She ran around the building and caught up with him just as he’d reached the back door.

  “It’s locked,” she said, slightly breathless. “You’re not welcome here anymore.”

  Andrew glanced back at her, his face relaxed, almost pleasant. “Yes, I had realized that.”

  As she watched, he pulled something out of his pocket—it looked like one of those multi-tools that held dozens of handy devices in one—and, without even pausing, he flipped out a tool that looked like a thin screw driver.

  “This particular lock is quite old and should probably be replaced,” he said with a smile. He inserted the tool into the lock, jimmied it for a few seconds, and then pulled it out when they both heard the lock click. “It’s very easy to get in.”

  Laurel froze with shock and indignation as Andrew turned the doorknob and entered the building.

  When the reality had fully processed, she followed him into the hall and then into room she’d cleaned out less than an hour ago. “You’re breaking and entering!”

  “That’s only true if the inn belongs to you.” He put the pile of bags he held on the bed and shook his arms out.

  The bags must have been heavy, since he’d been carrying what would have taken her three trips to haul in.

  “It does belong to me,” she gritted out, bewildered and shocked—and absolutely hating that feeling. “Get out.”

  “Your claim on the inn is obviously under dispute. As such, I have just as much right to stay here as you. Since you can’t open for guests until this is settled, there’s obviously room for me. I won’t get in your way.”

  He spoke as if they were discussing a simple business matter, as if nothing were unusual or problematic about his behavior. As if he weren’t invading her home.

  She was almost shaking with anger, but she knew the anger was dangerous. He was completely controlled at the moment, so she needed to be too.

  “You’re planning to stay here until things are settled?”

  “Yes. I can take care of myself, so you’re welcome to ignore me if you’d like.”

  “Ignore you?” She was breathless, and her cheeks were overly warm.

  She didn’t know who this man was. He certainly wasn’t the friendly, open charmer he’d been in the days before. Or the intimate, tender lover he’d been last night.

  He wasn’t tense, wasn’t concerned, was
n’t revealing any sort of emotion at all.

  And it hurt.

  It hurt that what was so important to her was obviously not important to him.

  “You can’t do this,” she said at last, her voice a little raspy. She felt like she could cry again, at the end of her emotional rope, but she used every thread of her willpower to keep from doing so.

  She wasn’t going to cry. She wouldn’t be that weak and helpless.

  She’d spent her whole life making sure she wasn’t.

  “Actually,” he said, smiling slightly, “I can. I wouldn’t suggest you round up help to throw me out. Assault really wouldn’t help your case.”

  She gaped at him.

  He arched one eyebrow in a way that made her want to slap him. “Did you need anything else?”

  “Why are you doing this? This inn means nothing to you—nothing. But it means everything to me. Why are you doing this?”

  She hated the plea in her voice, but she couldn’t suck the words back in once they were spoken.

  Andrew glanced away, for just a moment his bland mask cracking almost imperceptibly.

  His voice revealed nothing when he replied, “The inn belongs to my family, and my family means something to me.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that, but she knew enough about him to know the words were true.

  “So you’re really going to stay?”

  He smiled again, the empty mask returning. “I’m really going to stay.”

  ***

  Andrew felt like an ass.

  He knew he’d hurt Laurel, and he knew his insistence on staying was both rude and inappropriate.

  It was what he had to do, though, so he was determined to not let guilt or sympathy get in his way.

  It wasn’t Laurel’s fault they were trapped in this situation, but it wasn’t his fault either. She would never understand how he’d gotten here, and trying to make up with her would only put the Damons at a disadvantage later.

  So he was going to get through this with as little friction as possible, hopefully by staying out of her way.