So his original plan to lay out an offer and get her to jump at it might have been off by a few days, but he had some time to kill.
Greta was beautiful. So who better to spend the holidays with than her?
And her family.
Greta had thrown herself into her work the rest of the day, but by the time the night shift came on she needed a break.
The kids had spent the day at her mom's, so she headed over there to clear her head and eat some home cooking. There were only a few days left until Christmas, and her mom had asked her to come decorate the tree anyway, so she figured this was as good a day as any to throw herself into an activity that would get her mind off Mitch and his irritating offer.
She pulled up into the driveway of her mom and dad's house--despite Dad being gone it would always be their house--immediately noticing the strange car parked at the curb. Don's car was next to hers in the driveway. She'd expected him and Suz to be there for the annual decorating of the tree. Jeff and Zoey would no doubt be in the pool along with Don and Suz's two kids, thirteen-year-old twins Alana and Amanda.
So as usual, decorating night would be a total zoo. Just what she needed to keep her mind occupied.
She threw open the door, immediately assailed by the smell of pine trees, a scent so not indigenous to the central coast of Florida.
"Nice tree," she said, tossing her bag on the table in the foyer. "Don pick that one out?"
Her mother, who always dressed bright and cheerful--today it was khaki capris and a flowered button-down shirt--nodded and looked up at the six-and-a-half-foot giant that nearly filled the small living room. She swept her silvery blond hair behind her ears and turned to Greta with a wide grin. "You bet he did. She's a beauty, isn't she?"
"Uh huh. Where is he?"
"In the kitchen sharing a beer with Mitch. You know he's here for the holidays, don't you?"
Greta's smile died. "Mitch is here?"
"Well, yes. He said he went by the motel to see you today, so I don't know why you're surprised."
"I know he was at the motel, Mom. Why is he here? At our house."
"Because he stopped by to say hello, and since Don was here they had a reunion of sorts, so I invited Mitch to stay for dinner." Her mother came over and grasped her hands. "You look pale, Greta. Is something wrong?" She laid her palm across Greta's forehead. "Hmm, no fever. You do look run down, though. Want me to take a shift at the motel?"
She backed away from her overly concerned mother. "No, I'm fine. Really." She turned and headed toward the kitchen, intent on giving Mitch Magruder a piece of her mind.
She found him sitting at the kitchen table, sharing a beer with her brother, Don, both of them laughing. He glanced up when she entered the room, and her gaze caught an instant flare of heat in his eyes when he looked at her.
Her stomach fluttered and her nipples tightened. She had blown off men's looks and advances ever since Cody, not wanting to invite attention, needing to focus on herself, her motel and her children.
Men didn't interest her--not that way. And after what she'd gone through with Cody, it was easy to be turned off by anything having to do with the male species. But the way Mitch looked at her--reminded her for the first time in a very long time that she was a woman and she hadn't had sex in...God, she couldn't remember when the last time was.
But she wasn't going to have sex with Mitch.
"Why are you here?"
Mitch's lips curled. "Hi, Greta."
"You are so rude, brat." Don stood and gave his little sister a hug.
She tilted her head back and glared at her big brother. "You know what he wants, don't you?"
"Yeah. He wants to have dinner with us. What the hell's the matter with you?"
Greta's gaze returned to Mitch. "He came to the motel today. His big important company wants to buy the Crystal Sands."
"Yeah, he told me." Don moved back to the table to grab his beer.
"Oh, that," her mother said, coming into the room. "Well, that's up to you, I suppose. Did you make her a nice offer, Mitch?"
"Yes, ma'am, I did."
"Well, I'm glad. Greta, you should think about it. Dinner's almost ready. Don, go tell Suz to drag the kids out of the pool."
That's it? They knew and they weren't pissed? Shocked? Horrified? Throwing him out of the house? What the hell? "Did you hear what I said? He wants me to sell the motel."
Her mother turned to her. "I heard you, Greta. I'm not deaf yet. Now go set the table."
Exasperated, she let out a sound of disgust, grabbed the dishes and stalked into the dining room.
"Your mother threw the utensil basket at me and told me to come and help you."
Her gaze shot to Mitch. "Forks on the left. Knives and spoons on the right." She tried not to slam her mother's dishes onto the table.
"I know where they go, Greta." He followed behind her, laying down silverware after she put down the dishes. "Look, if my being here is going to upset you, I'll leave."
She stopped, inhaled, exhaled, then turned to him. "No, it's fine. Sorry. You can stay."
"Mom! Did you know Mitch was a world-class surfer?"
Greta turned and smiled at her son. "Yes, Jeff. I knew that."
Jeff, her gorgeous, lanky twelve-year-old and budding surfer, clearly had a case of hero worship going on. "He said he'd work with me while he was here for the holidays."
Greta swiveled. "You're staying?"
Mitch shrugged. "Sure. I've got nothing better to do so thought I'd hang out through Christmas."
"Isn't that great, Mom? Oh, and he's going to take a room at the motel, too. Right there on the beach. I can take lessons from him every day now that I'm on holiday break. Isn't that awesome?"
Greta glared at Mitch, who just smiled benignly. "Just awesome, Jeff."
"Me too, Mommy. You said I could learn to surf when I was ten."
She looked down at her golden-haired daughter. "Um..."
"You were about that age when I taught you to surf, if I recall correctly," Mitch reminded her.
"I was not that young."
"Yes you were, brat."
She looked up as Don entered the room, his arm draped around his pixie wife, Suz, who asked with a wide-eyed look, "Mitch was the one who taught you to surf?"
She fell into the nearest chair, defeated. "Yes."
"Cool, Mom," Jeff said. "And now he can teach me."
"And me too," Zoey added.
"It's not every kid who can claim to have learned to ride a board from a world-class surfer. Mitch is famous, ya know."
Greta glared at Don. "Uh, yes, I'm aware of that."
"Can we, Mom?" Jeff asked.
"Yeah, Mommy. Can we please?" Zoey cast her sweet, innocent eyes at Greta.
Mitch grinned. "Guess it's surf lesson time first thing in the morning."
"You aren't going to win this one, brat," Don whispered over her shoulder.
"Apparently not." But she sure hated the triumphant gleam in Mitch's eyes.
"I'll be by later tonight to check in."
She nodded. "I'll call ahead and let Heath know you're coming so he can have your room ready."
"Thanks."
"Dinner's ready," her mother called from the kitchen. "Everyone start carrying things in."
Greta rose and marched into the kitchen, feeling closed in and defeated. She'd come here for family support and they'd all rallied around Mitch instead.
But he still wasn't going to buy her motel, no matter how much her family liked him.
Chapter Three
Mitch spent an uncomfortable night on a lumpy queen-sized bed in a tiny room with a small television, dreaming of the highrise hotel and the three-swimming-pool resort with on-site golf course he was going to build in this spot. That was the only thing that got him through the night. He counted the hours until the gray dawn began to peek over the horizon. Long enough to suffer in the bed. He got up and went in search of coffee.
No restaurant at the
hotel. No in-room coffee. He stepped outside and took in a lungful of salty air, closed his eyes and imagined what guests in his resort would see first thing in the morning as they walked out on the balconies of their ocean view suites.
The orange sun lifting above the steely ocean, giving life to the peaceful calm of the sea. Gulls flying overhead looking for an early morning snack. The tangy scent of fresh brewed coffee from either their in-room coffeemakers or room service.
God, he really wanted room service. Instead, he put on his sneakers and took a jog on the beach until he found a restaurant where he could grab a coffee to go. Just the smell of caffeine sent the jolt through his system. He sipped as he took a walk on the sand on his way back to the motel.
Jeff and Zoey were already on the beach behind the motel, Greta standing behind them watching as they played.
She wore board shorts and a white short-sleeved T-shirt that molded to her breasts. Again her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but the early morning breeze whipped pieces of hair against her cheek. She hadn't seen him yet, her gaze trained on her kids as they played near the surf. Her hands stayed on her hips and she didn't once look away from her frolicking children. She was a good mom--attentive and focused despite the activity around her. She didn't turn away until he was almost next to her, then briefly acknowledged him with a nod.
"Morning," she said, not looking his way.
"You saw me?"
"Of course."
"Great peripheral vision."
Her lips tilted upward. "I'm a mother. I have eyes in the back of my head."
He laughed. "How are their swimming skills?"
"Advanced. No worries."
"Okay." He watched them play with way more energy than most adults had this time of day. "Your kids get up early."
"You have no idea. They're so excited to surf with you today. They were awake before dawn."
"Sorry."
"Don't be. I'm up that early anyway. Besides, you get to play babysitter for a couple hours, saving me from having to drive them over to my mother's early this morning. I owe you."
"It's no problem."
She slanted a glance in his direction. "You say that now. Wait 'til you spend some time with them."
He grinned. "I like kids."
"Spoken by a man who clearly doesn't have any. You have no idea what you're in for."
"I can handle them."
She swept her hands toward the two digging a hole in the sand. "Have at it, then. I'll come check on you in awhile, make sure they haven't buried you."
He let out a snort, turned and walked toward the kids.
"Hey, you two. Ready to surf?"
Jeff leaped to a standing position. "You bet I am. Though I already know how. I'm pretty good at it, too."
"I don't really know how," Zoey said, her hair wavy like her mom's and pulled back in the same kind of ponytail. She had Greta's green eyes too.
"I'll make expert surfers out of both of you. Your mom said you're both great swimmers?"
Zoey nodded. "She taught us when we were babies. Plus we had to take lessons every year."
"She wouldn't let us anywhere near the ocean until she was sure we weren't going to drown," Jeff added with a typical adolescent eye roll that communicated just how uncool he thought his mother was.
"Your mom is smart. Safety always comes first. You'll need to take that seriously or we won't even step foot in the water. Got it?"
Jeff sobered. "Got it."
"Me too," Zoey said.
"Good. Do you have boards?"
"Yeah. They're kind of old, though."
He tousled Jeff's hair. "An old board's the best kind. I'll go get mine, we'll pick up yours, then we'll get started."
They retrieved their boards and climbed into their wetsuits. Not knowing their skill level, Mitch started with the basics. He wanted to be sure they clearly understood safety first. And despite Jeff's protests, he insisted on life jackets for both the kids, even though Greta said they were strong swimmers. He didn't want to have to worry about the kids falling off the boards and drowning. He wanted to concentrate on their surfing skills. Once he was comfortable with their swim skills he'd abandon the lifejackets.
He went over the basics, then they climbed on their boards and went into the water, swimming out past the waves. He had them sit on the boards and stayed behind them to watch, telling them to catch a wave and ride it in so he could test their adeptness. Jeff got up on the first try and rode the wave all the way into shore with no problem. Zoey was a little off balance and fell after a few seconds, but she was a determined little thing. She turned her board around and paddled like a dynamo right back out there and tried it again. And again. The girl never gave up like a lot of kids her age would. And Greta was right, especially about Zoey. These kids were strong swimmers.
Jeff got up every time, had an obvious natural talent, so Mitch worked more with Zoey while keeping one eye on Jeff, who really didn't need to be watched. After working with Zoey and teaching her how to feel for balance, she did better.
And he was having a great time. They were nice kids, polite and exuberant. After a couple hours they took a break and found a snack shack for something to eat and drink under one of the shady tables.
"You're doing great," he said, taking a sip of soda.
"Thanks," Jeff said. "I really like surfing but we don't get to do it much."
"I'm sure your mom is busy and doesn't have a chance to take you out on the waves."
"She does what she can. She used to take us out more before..." Jeff dipped his head down and reached into his bag of chips.
"Before our dad left," Zoey finished, taking a loud slurp through her straw.
"I'm sorry. That must be hard on you." He didn't want to pry and ask questions about their father.
Jeff shrugged. "He was mean. We don't miss him at all. It's no big deal."
It was a big deal and Mitch knew it. "You have a great mom, though."
"She's really cool," Zoey said. "But she doesn't have a lot of time to do stuff with us anymore. Not like she used to. And even then, Dad never wanted her to play with us. He liked all the attention."
"No, he needed all the attention," Jeff finished with a sneer of disgust.
Such grown-up observations from children. And clearly, their father was a dickhead. He'd like to track the guy down and make him suffer for hurting his children that way. Kids shouldn't have to grow up this quickly. Childhood was fleeting enough. He'd had a great childhood, with incredible parents. Security and love had allowed him to dream big and reach for the stars.
Every kid should have the opportunity to achieve their goals.
He could give Greta that for her children. All he had to do was convince her.
"So what do you want to do when you grow up, Jeff?"
Jeff tilted his head toward Mitch. "Not sure yet. I like the water a lot, but not sure I want to be a surfer. Maybe a marine biologist."
Mitch nodded and grinned. "You live in the right place for it."
"Do you know how endangered some of the species in our oceans are, how the effects of global warming are harming the ecosystems of our seas?"
Mitch gaped at Jeff. This kid was twelve. "Uh, yeah, I am aware of that. I'm just kind of shocked that you are."
Jeff laughed. "Just because I surf doesn't mean I'm stupid, Mitch."
Mitch snorted and shoved his shoulder against Jeff's. "Clearly."
"I want to be in the Olympics," Zoey said. "Swimming. I like to swim and Momma says I'm really good at it. But we can't afford the lessons to take me to the next level."
Geez, both these kids were incredible. "Well, you're still young enough, Zoey. There's still time."
She nodded and slurped again from her straw.
After their break they went out in the water again. It wasn't until Greta tracked them down that Mitch realized it was nearly four in the afternoon. They'd only stopped one other time for lunch, and otherwise had spent the entire day play
ing in the water.
Mitch'd had a great time with the kids. They were fun, attentive, and whip smart. It had been easy to spend the day with them.
Greta tossed towels at the kids. "Time to shower and change. You still have chores to do."
"Okay, Mom," Jeff said, then turned to Mitch and stuck out his hand. "Thanks for the surfing lessons today."
Mitch shook his hand. "You didn't really need them. You're a natural."
His cheeks pinkened. "Thanks."
Zoey threw her arms around Mitch's waist. "I had fun, Mitch. Thank you."
Mitch's heart swelled with an emotion he couldn't name as he hugged her back. "You improved a ton just in one day, miss."
She grinned. "Thanks."
The kids ran off toward the motel, leaving Mitch with Greta.
"You didn't have to spend the entire day with them. An hour would have been plenty."
He turned and walked with her down the beach, letting the sun dry him. "I had fun with your kids today, Greta. They're incredible children."
She tilted her head toward him and smiled. "I think they are. But thank you. I appreciate you giving them some attention. I'd like to give them more."
"You're busy keeping up the motel."
"That's no excuse. They deserve better."
"I can give that to you, you know."
Her smile died. "I don't want to talk about it. I'm not selling the motel to you."
He knew he was pushing it and the timing was off. "Sorry. We won't talk about that." Not right now, anyway.
They walked in silence, side by side, and Mitch had the ridiculous urge to grab her hand and stroll along the sand like lovers.
But they weren't lovers. They weren't dating. They weren't...anything. He had a strong attraction to Greta, but that was physical. Plus, she had something he wanted. That was most likely the lure, and nothing else.
When they returned to the motel, she turned to him. "Again, thank you. I've never seen them so happy. They really enjoyed themselves. I owe you."
"Then have dinner with me tonight."
Her eyes widened. "I...can't."
"Why? Are you working tonight?"
"Well...no. But I have the kids."
"Good. They can come along. You can take me to one of your favorite eating places. It'll be fun."
Fortunately for him, Zoey happened to walk out at just the right moment.
"Can we, Mom? Can we have dinner with Mitch? We can take him to the Galley."