Chapter 8
The morning light in the Lowcountry was too bright, too cheerful, and entirely too loud.
Seb stood in his kitchen, the busy sounds of the espresso machine mocking his lack of sleep.
Beside him, Digby was doing celebratory laps around the kitchen island, his paws clicking away in a frantic, happy rhythm.
“What is with you?” he asked without any heat. “Aren’t you supposed to support me in my misery?” Seb muttered. He sounded as bad as he felt, as if he’d been dragged up and down a gravel road. Nothing like a legal conundrum to take him from elated to frustration-induced insomnia.
He’d been riding that first kiss high, planning his next move and what to do for a real first date when he’d made the mistake of checking his email before bed.
His lawyers had heartily disagreed with his decision to be transparent about the lighthouse parcel ownership.
He had no idea why they were making it such an issue.
It wasn’t as if he was actively looking for a developer to take it off his hands.
“I’m the client,” he said to Digby. “It’s supposed to be my decision.”
No matter how they handled it, the tax burden wouldn’t be a big deal. The merger could fall apart and he would still be set for life. Had his lawyers forgotten his net worth? Or did they believe they’d drained him dry?
That thought put just enough doubt in his sleep-deprived head that he grabbed the espresso and went straight to the office to confirm his accounts were in order.
Of course they were.
He downed the espresso faster than usual, the strong hit of caffeine a welcome contrast to the lingering, sweet memory of Holly’s lips.
The kiss had been a tactical error—a beautiful, life-altering, catastrophic error.
Wonderful, but it definitely shifted the variables and did nothing for his focus.
He marveled that he didn’t feel like an outsider anymore. He felt as if he was blending in, becoming part of the local scene. Where would a local take a first date? Opening a search window, he reviewed the options on Brookwell.
But first-date vibes when she was the editor of the Bugle could pose a problem for her later, even if Vince took over. He expanded his search to Charleston, looking for some place where he could guarantee more privacy and discretion.
The chime of an incoming email jolted him out of his happier endeavor. Changing to his inbox, he sighed over the video call request pulsing on the center screen. Marvin Drayton, his lead attorney, wouldn’t be calling at this hour unless something was burning down.
Seb hit the connect button. Marv appeared, looking crisp and caffeinated in a high-rise office in Palo Alto. It was more than a little intimidating when Seb realized it was only five in the morning out west.
“Seb. Thanks for picking up.” His dark forehead wrinkled with concern. “Were you working late or up early? I can never tell since you moved to the swamp.”
“It’s a marsh, Marv.” A marsh on one side, and a river along the other, but he kept that to himself. “What’s on fire?”
“There’s my favorite grumpy tech mogul,” Marv joked.
Seb wasn’t amused. He eyed his empty espresso cup long enough to get Marv on topic.
“This merger,” Marv began, leaning into the camera. “The Vanguard board is getting twitchy and your board of directors has concerns as well.”
Seb suspected someone had gotten chatty over a round of golf recently. “They don’t get to dictate where I live.” Or how. “My address has no bearing on business.”
“Well.” Marv cleared his throat. “Of course not. But there was some sort of post in an online blog or paper.” His gaze shifted as he checked his monitor. “The Brookwell Bugle referenced an upcoming profile on the mysterious mogul.”
Seb snapped a leash on his temper as he pulled up the Bugle website. There was no way Holly would double-cross him. He saw the Vince Goodridge byline and skimmed the article in record time.
It was little more than a teaser about the upcoming story on who he was and what moved him to purchase the Marion estate.
“What’s so problematic? Seb asked. “It’s a small-town thing.
Apparently, my new home,” he used the word deliberately, “belonged to a beloved senator’s family for generations.
The estate is basically a celebrity on its own.
The article is a human-interest angle at best, nothing that would affect my work or the valuation on the merger. ”
“And when that feel-good small town human interest turns into torches and pitchforks?”
“Careful, Marv. That sounds as if you’re calling me Dr. Frankenstein.”
Marv scowled and leaned close to the camera again. “Quit deflecting,” he barked. “I want your name as far from the lighthouse property as I can get it.”
“It’s part of the estate.”
“Doesn’t have to be,” Marv insisted.
Seb leaned back in his chair. “What is Vanguard really afraid of here?”
“The optics,” Marv replied. “If the general public on either coast finds out you’ve bought an historic landmark before the merger goes live, it looks like you’re land-grabbing to offset an upcoming loss. It could trigger an audit.”
Inwardly Seb cursed video calls, but he refused to show any reaction. “We know the truth. Why not publicize it? I can even go through the Bugle reporters since that seems to be such a well-read paper.”
“You’re an ass.”
“It’s been said.” Seb nodded. “But I stand by it. The lighthouse was part of the estate. I don’t know all the history.” He had an excellent source to help him, all he had to do was ask. “There was no willful or suspicious land grab and it won’t be hard to prove it.”
Marv’s expression turned as stern as Seb’s seventh grade English teacher when she was disappointed in his effort with an essay. “Your purchase of that particular estate negated the remainder of a ninety-nine-year lease.”
Seb swore. “Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?
” He had to work to unlock his jaw. He couldn’t believe he’d missed that detail in all the paperwork.
He was focused on the merger, sure, but he still read everything before signing.
“Doesn’t matter.” He’d have Holly help him confront the local lawyers about this.
“It’s not a land-grab,” he muttered. “It was a package deal with the estate. The Marion heirs wanted it all gone in one transaction. People will understand that.”
Marv snorted. “Neither your board nor the Vanguard board cares about any of that. Let me shelter you and the lighthouse. Once the merger is public, you can donate the lighthouse back to the town, be the hero, whatever. But until then, you lay low. Stay focused. And stay far away from anyone from the Bugle.”
Seb felt another flare of irritation. “Again, my personal life is my own.” He trusted Holly.
“Of course,” Marv agreed too easily. “Enjoy it all you want with anyone you choose. After the merger. Remember, journalists of every stripe eat secrets for breakfast. We don’t need anyone using your distraction to pump you for insider intel.”
The insult was a step too far. “That wouldn’t happen.”
“Let’s hope you’re right. If this Vince or any of his local peers uncover the power you have over an historical landmark, they’ll bury you and the fallout will likely derail the merger. Trust me, it’s my job to protect you.”
“Yeah. Thanks,” Seb didn’t bother hiding his annoyance. “For the record, I’m not a fan of your choice on this.”
“Noted.”
The screen went black as Marcus ended the call. Seb stared at his reflection in the dark monitor. Transparency. It was the one thing Holly had asked for. The one thing her father had denied her. He should just tell her, to hell with Marv’s misplaced worry.
But it wouldn’t be an issue for long. Probably best if he embraced the mysterious recluse role and stayed in the office until the merger was done.
His staff would be happier.
Marv would be happier.
Suddenly Digby scrambled out of the bed by the desk and raced for the front door, barking up a storm even before the doorbell rang.
Seb didn’t need to look through the window to know who had stopped by. Digby adored Holly and no one else would just drop in.
He opened the heavy oak door and smiled. Holly stood on his porch, wearing jeans that hugged her legs and a soft golden-green top that matched the marshes, her hair gathered up in a bun. In flip-flops, he could see the bright purple polish on her toes.
Why was that so intriguing?
“Hey,” she said.
“Hi.” He stepped back. “Come on in.” She looked radiant, refreshed, and smelled of citrus as she entered.
Digby pranced happily at her feet, not even considering dashing outside.
And Marv’s voice intruded, reminding him she was a reporter for the Bugle.
“Rough night?” Her blue gaze searched his face. She didn’t lead with a kiss, but he sensed she wanted to. “You look like you worked all night.”
“Pretty much. And then a call from my lawyer,” Seb admitted. “Did I forget an appointment?”
“Not exactly.” Holly knelt to scoop up the dog, her gaze never leaving Seb’s. “Is it the merger? You’ve got that look again. Intense. Concerned. Like when you were navigating the shortcut through the marsh.”
Seb scrubbed at his face and gave her all the honesty he could. “Yes. It’s complicated.” Seb walked toward the kitchen, needing some distance. “We’re running behind and the paperwork is snowballing.”
Holly followed him, her flip-flops slapping softly. Wasn’t it too cold for bare feet? Apparently not for her. Setting Digby down, she leaned against the counter, her eyes full of concern. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks. I just need to hit pause on the whole getting-to-know-Brookwell thing. This will be over in a few days. Whatever we had planned needs to wait.”
“I see.” Her gaze turned as cool as those two words. “If there’s something that will impact the town, please tell me now. Don’t let me find it in a public record three months from now.”
Seb sighed and forced himself to stop avoiding eye contact. He looked at her—at the sincerity in her blue eyes and marveled at the way she’d integrated herself into his life in a few short days.
He wanted to warn her. He wanted to tell her not to believe whatever might crop up about the lighthouse parcel. He wasn’t hiding the ownership records for any nefarious purpose. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
So why did he suddenly feel as if the ghost of her father was lurking between them? She’d told him how Brookwell had turned on her mother. He expected word was spreading that she wasn’t hanging around him for the upcoming feature in the Bugle.
But if he told her and the merger failed, folks on the other side of the country would bear the brunt of the fallout. And though it shouldn’t feel anywhere near as vital, she’d kick him to the curb, another charming stranger who’d lied to her.
“Good,” she said, not sounding the least bit convinced. “I’ll let you get back to work then.”
“Please don’t sweat it.” Seb pulled down a cup and poured her a coffee. “It’s just business NDAs and red tape.” A shadow of doubt flickered in her eyes and he hated himself for putting it there. “Have coffee with me. I could use the break.”
“All right,” she agreed. “I’ve dealt with my share of legal meetings. They can definitely be an energy drain.”
He appreciated her effort and suggested they sit at the sunny banquette with a view of the river sparkling beyond the pool.
“I should’ve brought strudel.”
He chuckled. “I can’t make that an everyday thing.”
“True, but it might’ve softened the real reason for my visit.”
Suddenly he regretted not pulling her into his arms and kissing her at the door. With every minute they were further from the sweet magic of that moment and he feared he wouldn’t have another chance. “So, I have missed an appointment.”
“Not exactly, but I feel obligated to make sure it doesn’t happen.” She sat up straight. “The next music festival planning meeting is tonight at the Pelican Pub.”
Seb smiled at the mention, recalling a story Lucy had shared about the pub’s owner, Reed Davis. “Is this meeting about auditioning new talent?” That could be a fun time. He imagined how good it would feel to dance with Holly and struggled to keep his mind in the present.
“I’m sure he’ll have entertainment,” she said absently. “After the meeting. It’s a meeting you need to attend.”
“Holly—”
She cut off his excuses with a sharp glance. “You need to be there. To be seen and to listen. I’ve spoken with Grace and a few other folks on the committee. The Marion family was involved, Seb. Their commitment to the community has been missed. They extended that invitation for a reason.”
“I’m not the Marion family,” he reminded her. “I don’t know anything about festival planning of any kind. I need to focus on getting this merger done.”
“It’s a couple of hours,” she said. “Your presence would do wonders.” Her smile was intoxicating. “Just show up, be friendly, maybe name-drop Lucy and Wish Blender. That’s sure to give you the right credibility.”
“Fine.” Marv would have a fit. Another solid reason to attend: to prove his lawyer was wrong.
“Great.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’d ask you to come out early for dinner, but I can tell you’ll say no.” She squeezed his hand. “And that’s cool. Business is important.”
He brought her hand to his lips, kissing her palm. “And what about this? Are we keeping it under wraps?”
“Probably for the best,” she admitted glumly. “I’ll be there in an official capacity. But post-meeting, if the music is good, you could ask me to dance.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
Her cheeks went pink and her eyes heated. “Well. Um.” Seeing her flustered was good for his ego. “I’ll go so you can work.” She carried her coffee cup to the sink and rinsed it out.
He followed. “Thanks. Just one more thing.”
When she turned, he was right there. Slowly, he rested his hands on the counter near her hips. Her sexy grin returned and she wound her arms around his neck, welcoming his kiss.
He could’ve stayed right there all day, making a study of how she felt and every sound of pleasure she made.
Her breath caught and she snuggled close to his chest. “We both have work.”
“One day soon, we won’t.”
She brushed her lips to his cheek. “A day to look forward to.” Then she ducked out of his arms and hurried to the front door, pausing just long enough to say farewell to Digby.
Seb watched her drive away, the weight of all he hadn’t told her pressing on him like a mountain. This wasn’t a game and it would work out. He wasn’t lying, just delaying the reveal. But as he sat down in the office, uneasiness crept in.
“Transparency,” he whispered to the lines of code on his monitors. “She’ll get it, hopefully before it’s too late.”