The Billionaire's Island Bride Read online

  She was also making four small pans of lasagna, and a curried squash soup from the butternut squash in her garden.

  As she put the squash in the pot, she figured she must be out of sorts indeed. This was enough food to feed her for weeks.

  Her kitchen was a mess but the lasagnas were baking in the oven, the beans were bubbling, and it all smelled delicious. Two loaves of fresh bread were on the counter; mixing and kneading had helped her work out some of her frustration.

  It was only eleven thirty when there was a knock and Marvin leaped up from his doggie bed, rushing to the door and barking the whole time.

  It had to be Cole. There was literally no one else it could be.

  She steeled herself, wiped her hands on her apron and went to the door. There was no sense pretending she wasn’t home. Besides, she’d popped in to her lawyer’s yesterday for a quick chat. She was going to look into the legalities and get back to Brooklyn in a few days. Even if Cole had the dock assessed, any work wouldn’t start for a while.

  She opened the door and tried to look polite.

  “Hi,” he said. “I come in peace.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. She couldn’t escape the notion that there was always something behind his charm. “Oh?”

  He held out his hands. One held a paper bag that she recognized from the baker in town. The other was from a pet store in Mahone Bay.

  “Wine and cake for you, and something for Marvin, because he’s a very good boy.”

  Okay, so charm aside, complimenting Marvin was the same as telling a mother her kid was great. It was the easiest way to get in her good graces. “I suppose you should come in, then.” She stood aside.

  Cole entered while Marvin danced in circles around him. She wished her dog didn’t seem to like the guy so much. At first glance, Cole seemed to be dressed normally. Casually. Until she looked at the fine wool of his sweater and the rich leather of his shoes. There was no forgetting how stupid rich he had to be. After all, he’d bought most of the island and hadn’t batted an eye at the idea of giving her a million dollars for her small corner of it.

  “My God, it smells heavenly in here.” He handed her the bag and then courteously removed his shoes and left them on the mat. “I heard you were a knitter. But apparently you’re a cook, too.”

  She would not be charmed. She would not.

  “It’s messy at the moment. I tend to cook in batches and freeze it.”

  She put the bag on an empty space of counter and removed the wine and cake. A lovely crisp white, and a small but gorgeous lemon cream cake. She did love lemon.

  “Thank you,” she said, putting the wine in the fridge. “It wasn’t necessary.”

  “But it was.” He put his hands in his pockets. “Ms. Graves, we got off on the wrong foot, and that’s my fault. What I should have said yesterday was that I would foot the bill for any changes to the dock. I’m the one who wants them, and it wouldn’t be fair for me to ask you to pay half of that.” He took a small step forward. “I know you aren’t happy about me being here. But I promise, I’m not out to do you harm.”

  She wasn’t sure what to say. He seemed very genuine and contrite.

  “The previous owners and I got along very well,” she admitted. “Before that, my grandparents owned the whole island. But then my grandfather got sick and needed a lot of care. Care he couldn’t get here on the island, of course, and it put a financial strain on them. Ernest bought it, minus this parcel of land, and rented this house for two years before he built the grand house on the bluff. He set up the conditions for the shared dock and made sure we were taken care of. I understand why he sold. But it was a good relationship built on trust.” She met his gaze evenly. “You haven’t built up that trust.”

  “Yet,” he said, and didn’t smile. He seemed to be taking everything she said very seriously. “Maybe if I tell you my plans for the property, it’ll put your mind at ease.”

  The squash was nearly done, so she motioned toward the table and chairs. “I’ve got to finish this up, but please have a seat. Would you like a coffee?” There was still half a pot left.

  “I’d like that a lot. Just black for me.”

  She poured him a cup and put it before him, and then went to test the squash and add the remainder of the ingredients. She tried to ignore how he was watching her as she poured the mixture over into her food processor and whizzed it until it was velvety smooth, and then poured it back over into the pot.

  “What is that?” he asked. “It smells amazing.”

  “Curried squash soup. Do you cook, Mr. Abbott?”

  He sighed. “Can we maybe forgo the formalities? Just call me Cole.”

  “All right.” She didn’t extend the offer to use her first name, though she suspected he would, eventually, anyway. She didn’t want to be friends with him, but he had brought a peace offering and she appreciated his putting her mind at ease about the dock. Maybe, just maybe, she’d been a little hyper-defensive.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “I cook a little. But I’m better at buying stuff that’s already prepped. I, uh, didn’t really have to cook for myself growing up.”

  She snorted. “I kind of figured that about you. Let me guess. Private school? Trust fund baby?”

  “Something like that.” He shrugged. “But just to clarify, I’ve had to work my way to where I am. I absolutely had advantages because of family money. Hopefully I didn’t waste any of them.”

  She turned around to look at him. There was something in the set of his jaw and behind his eyes that spoke of a deeper story. She wondered what it was. She should not dismiss him as an idle rich jerk. Everyone had their own story, didn’t they?

  “So buying this island...it isn’t a whim or a toy for you?”

  He shook his head. “No, it’s not. I bought it for a few reasons. I’ll tell you if you’re interested in hearing about them.”

  He took a long drink of his coffee and Brooklyn looked at the clock. It was just shy of noon.

  “I guess I’d better spoon up some of this soup then, shouldn’t I?”

  She reached into the cupboard for two bowls and wondered if hearing him out was the right thing to do. Because right now it felt a bit dangerous.

  * * *

  Cole wasn’t sure why he was ready to confide in Brooklyn or why he felt this pressing need to have her understand or think well of him. They’d got off to a rocky start and she certainly wasn’t a friend or even someone he could really trust.

  But he wanted to tell her, to disabuse the notion that he hadn’t just bought the island as a toy or new thing on an acquisitions list. Besides, he was looking forward to hosting his first retreat in a few weeks, just a small gathering of executives from his own companies. Nothing formal, just four days of unplugging, sea air, good food. A time to slow down.

  Brooklyn put a bowl of the delicious-smelling soup in front of him, and then went to the kitchen island and grabbed a loaf of fresh bread, a cutting board and a knife. She sliced it right there at the table, handed him a slice and put a crock of butter beside him.

  The bread was still slightly warm and smelled like heaven.

  “So. You have plans for the property. Do tell.”

  She got a second bowl and joined him at the table.

  Cole went to work spreading butter on his bread. “A while ago I had a bit of a...well, I don’t want to say a breakdown. It was more burnout, I guess. I’d been working sixty hour weeks for as long as I could remember, and then my social life... Well, I don’t do anything half way. I’m not a partier or anything, but I’d do dinners and events and just... I never took any downtime.” He broke off a piece of bread and popped it into his mouth. Amazing. A quick glance told him that Brooklyn was watching him intently, her eyes focused on his and her brow slightly furrowed as if she were trying to puzzle him out.

  “Burning the candle at both
ends,” she said.

  “Exactly. Until the flame got snuffed out. I was exhausted. Then one morning I woke up and I had chest pains. It scared the hell out of me.”

  She had picked up her spoon but now she put it down again. “Did you have a heart attack? But you’re only what, thirty-five? Forty?”

  He grinned. “Thirty-five, if you must know, and no, thankfully it wasn’t a heart attack. It was a panic attack.”

  “Thank goodness,” she said and picked up her spoon again.

  He did the same and tasted the soup. It was velvety smooth and divine. He’d eaten in Michelin-starred restaurants and this simple soup could stand with the best of them. “This is amazing.”

  “It’s the coconut milk. I stir a little in at the end, too, and it makes it pop.” She looked at him over her spoon. “So, you had a panic attack.”

  “It wasn’t an isolated thing. My friend Branson said that it was my body’s way of telling me I needed to slow down and I needed to listen. I didn’t have any choice. I could hardly get out of bed in the morning. I was tired all the time. I didn’t believe him, you know? I thought I had some horrible disease. Turns out it was workaholism.”

  “So you bought the house.”

  “I’m getting there.” He spooned up more of the soup like it was a tonic, which maybe it was. Simple, wholesome nourishment. Perfection. “It took me a long time to recover. Thankfully, I had strong executives in place, but the whole thing could have been avoided if I’d done a better job at balancing my workload. I didn’t take time off until my own body forced me to. So I bought the house for a few reasons. One, it’s a getaway for me, and one that is close to my two best friends, who bought places on the south shore. The other reason is that I don’t want what happened to me to happen to other executives. I’m going to hold corporate retreats. First for my own people, and then for other companies.”

  He didn’t mention how dark a place his burnout had been, though. How he’d felt so alone and questioned his existence. Wondering if anyone would miss him because other than Branson and Jeremy, he hadn’t nurtured any relationships in his life. Especially romantic ones. His parents had put on a brilliant public face but in private they were strangers. If that was marriage, he didn’t want any part of it.

  Brooklyn frowned. “It’s a neat idea, for sure. I’m going to be honest, though. It makes me uncomfortable thinking about strangers roaming about the island all the time.” She stirred her soup as if deliberating something, then looked up again. “You’re creating an oasis for people, which is admirable. But in doing so, you’re threatening mine. It’s a hard pill to swallow.”

  He hadn’t thought of it that way. But of course. Every time he held a retreat, there would be strangers on the beaches, walking the island, on the boat launch. He could understand how that made her uneasy. Maybe it would convince her to sell to him after all?

  And yet, the thought of her not being here, in this house, in this kitchen, suddenly seemed wrong.

  “I’m sorry about that. It’s definitely an unintended consequence. I guess it must seem as if I’m invading your home. That’s not my intention at all. I hope you believe that.”

  She nodded but didn’t meet his eyes. Instead she sliced him more bread. He got the feeling that it was more to keep her hands busy than anything.

  He reached over and put his hand over hers.

  She stopped breathing.

  Something changed in that moment, in that small but intimate physical touch. He felt it in his solar plexus, reaching in to grab him and hold him captive. It had been meant to reassure. But as her gaze darted to his, the energy between them became something bigger. Something unexpected.

  She slipped her hand away from his. “Would you like more soup?”

  It had rattled her, too. Cole cleared his throat and knew he’d better get out of there before he started sharing other things or, worse, inviting her to share. The idea was to convince her to sell. Not get himself tangled up in her.

  “I should get back. I really just came with the peace offering.”

  Brooklyn gathered up their bowls and took them to the sink. “Thank you. And I appreciate the clarification on the dock maintenance.”

  Cole stood and brushed a few breadcrumbs off his pants. “I want us to deal fairly with each other. It’s not my intention to cause you financial hardship.”

  She spun around and pinned him with a stare. “Don’t worry about my financial situation. I’m doing just fine.”

  Dammit, he’d stepped in it again. Just when he’d let down his guard a little. “I’m sure you are. But no one wants an unexpected expenditure, do they?”

  Marvin had reappeared and he leaned over to give the pup a pat and a bit of an ear rub. “You’ve got a great dog. I never had one growing up.”

  “But you like them.” Her voice was softer. “That’s pretty obvious.”

  “I do. Very much.” Marvin leaned into a scratch, which delighted Cole immensely. “You’re such a good boy, aren’t you, Marvin? Mmm...that feels good.”

  When he looked up, Brooklyn was smiling. Damn, she was so beautiful when she smiled. He was going to have to step carefully there.

  “He likes you, too. You can stop by for a game of fetch when you need to,” she offered.

  It was unexpected and he frowned. “Really? You’re inviting me to play with your dog?”

  She shrugged. “Dogs are great healers, Cole. From what you said, you probably need him as much as he needs a good game of throw-the-tennis-ball.”

  “Thanks,” he said quietly, standing again. “Maybe I’ll do that.”

  But as he said his goodbyes and made his way down the path from her house, he wondered what kind of recovery she’d needed, and if Marvin had been there for her. He hoped so. The thought of Brooklyn, such a strong, beautiful, independent woman needing some sort of healing made his stomach tie up in knots. If she’d had to recover from something, he hoped she hadn’t had to do it alone.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  BROOKLYN KNEW THE day the executives arrived because the helicopter made an appearance, swinging low over the house before disappearing over the trees to the landing pad. She stepped away from the window and went back to printing shipping labels. She’d spent too much time thinking about Cole and that moment when he’d touched her hand. Something had happened between them, like a bolt of lightning. The startled look on his face had told her he had felt it, too. It made everything more complicated.

  She should just brush it off and regain her common sense. But the past few nights, when she’d gone to bed, she’d lain awake thinking of how he’d brought Marvin a present and the way he patted the dog and rubbed his ears. Marvin was the most important thing in her life, really. As much as it would be more convenient for her to still hate Cole, his actions suggested an unexpected kindness and gentleness.

  Kindness didn’t translate into trust, though. He was a long way from accomplishing that.

  Better to focus on the present. She needed to go over to the mainland again today. She’d finished dyeing another batch of yarn and had packed up new orders to be shipped away. Fall was a busy time for her. As the weather cooled, people picked up their knitting needles again and started on a number of projects. Even though it was only early October, Christmas orders were already flooding in.

  She should forget about Cole and think more about the holiday season and building up her stock.

  The seas were calm and the day clear, and the trip seemed to take no time at all. The first stop for her was the post office, which took a fairly long time as she had a number of shipments. Then she drove down to Liverpool to visit Delilah. Even though Brooklyn had her own yarn business, there were many specialty yarns that she sourced elsewhere. Right now she was hoping Delilah had a new shipment of alpaca yarn. She loved working with it, and her customers liked it, as well, since it was lighter than wool and wasn’t
scratchy.

  Delilah was at the store but more than happy to go to lunch. They headed to a local inn and dined on hearty chowder and fresh bread.

  Delilah, who was in her midforties, took a look at Brooklyn and angled her head, as if assessing. “There’s something different about you. A different kind of energy.” She thought for a moment and shrugged. “You’ve perked up.”

  Heat slid up Brooklyn’s neck. “I love the fall. It’s my favorite time of year.”

  “I don’t think so. What’s going on in your life?” She leaned forward. “Have you put up that online dating profile like I suggested?”

  Brooklyn laughed and spooned up more chowder. “No, I didn’t. It’s nothing, really. I mean, I met the new owner of the house. Otherwise I’ve just been busy.” She raised an eyebrow. “After what I just spent at your store, you can tell I have orders piling up.”

  “What’s he like? Is he old with a big paunch and stinking rich?”

  She laughed, but the image of Cole standing at her door with cake and wine stuck in her head and her heart gave a little thump. “He’s stinking rich, from what I gather. He’s maybe thirty-five? And quite good-looking.”

  “Ooh. Some island romance in your future?” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

  “Yeah, and wouldn’t that be awkward. You don’t...you-know-what where you eat, Del. Besides, he’ll be here a bit and then have to go back to New York. That’s where his businesses are. He’ll only be on the island now and again.”

  To her surprise, the thought made her a little lonely. She was used to having someone else for company. The summer hadn’t been that bad, because the weather had been great and she’d had the gardens to keep and her own vegetable plot. In the wintertime, though, she often got storm-stayed. During those times, she’d often gone up to the big house with Ernest and Marietta and they’d played cards and eaten great food and it had been more than pleasant. Her house was cozy as anything, but the thought of facing the winter without any company at all... Maybe she should consider finding an apartment or something in town. But how could she afford two places? Right now she was mortgage-free and the business was more than enough to keep her comfortable. But if she had to add a thousand a month or so to her bills, it would make things tight.