Her Christmas Wish (The Cottages on Ocean Breeze #1)

Chapter Six

I n the past they’d shared one of the huge orders of El Serrano’s Calle Pollo. Gray had just finished an entire order himself.

So what, he’d gone hungry when he’d eaten with her before? To save the cost of two meals? Never saying a word?

Was he no longer willing to sacrifice his stomach in such a manner?

Pausing in her laying out of specific plans for him, she closed the lid over her half-eaten, very delicious lunch and walked it over to the small refrigerator behind her desk. He was looking over the figures and charts she’d printed and presented to him, the example charter, some potential employee handbook models, along with a mock fundraising agenda and a quick example of what a brief might look like on a motion to have his GB Animal Clinics bank account released to him.

“It’s all very simplified at the moment,” she told him, returning to the table with another two of the same bottles of water she’d brought the first time she’d approached, offering one to him. “As soon as I have your go-ahead, I’ll make some calls and get to work in earnest.”

With his legs spread, his forearms resting on his knees, he’d been leaning over, sifting through the piles of information. And glanced up as she spoke. “You’re assuming I’m going to accept your offer.”

It wasn’t a question. Remaining standing, even though she knew it was a power move—one he’d likely interpret to mean that she thought herself above him—Sage said, “I know it’s your most intelligent move at the moment, and you tend to make left-brain decisions.”

He frowned, staring up at her. “What in the hell does that mean?”

Ahhh. An obvious loss of calm. The first he’d exhibited during their entire encounter that day. While the sign of a chink in his armor made her smile inside, she managed a fairly nonchalant shrug. “You make intelligent choices, based on fact, not emotion,” she told him with confidence. Because she knew she was right.

Like selling his prized surfboard to buy her a pair of earrings.

At first, she’d been bowled over by the gesture. Until she’d realized that, just as the surfboard hadn’t meant a great deal to him—hadn’t represented a big loss—the earrings wouldn’t have been significant to him, either. He’d traded one of his things for a thing for her. And in the end, they were both just things. And replaceable.

He’d apparently lost whatever edge he’d had there for a second as he was once again going through pages. “Since you’ve already got me figured out, I’m guessing you have someplace where I need to sign?”

Sage licked lips gone suddenly dry. Sat.

“I have a couple of caveats first,” she told him, her stomach tripping over the food she’d sent it. Before her nerves wrapped like bands around the organ, shooting it with fire.

He glanced up at her, his eyes almost rolling with an “I’d expected as much” gesture. Or, maybe, “Here it comes.”

And then, vacating all information on the table, sat back, holding his water bottle with both hands, where it rested on his belt area.

Just above other things she absolutely could not notice. Not even peripherally.

The fates tempting her? Showing her the dangers? Warning her she was making a huge mistake?

Focusing on a photo of Leigh on a tall, thin table of them along the wall behind him, she said, “This is strictly business. Meaning all interaction between us needs to be here, in my office.” She’d been about to say that she never brought business home, but just by nature of her having spent the evening before going through his files, that statement would have opened many cans of worms.

And would have been a lie besides. She worked most nights after Leigh went to bed.

“You want to make certain that we don’t...run into each other...on the beach.” His tone wasn’t at all defensive. And when she looked, his glance seemed sincere.

“Yes.”

He nodded. Her stomach settled. And then he said, “Good, because I feel the same way. On Ocean Breeze we both work to stay out of each other’s way.”

Right. Spot-on.

Exactly what she wanted.

So why did his easy acquiescence, his seeming relief, feel more like a letdown than a victory?

She was good. Damned good. The proof didn’t surprise Gray in the least. He’d known Sage was going to be a powerful woman, mastering whatever she set her mind to.

What he couldn’t wrap his mind around was her putting her mind to him.

Mostly, as he drove back to Ocean Breeze just before dinnertime that October Wednesday, what consumed his thoughts was all the information she’d given him. The facts about his situation of which he’d been completely unaware. Rights he hadn’t known he had.

And skills for which he hadn’t tapped his previous corporate attorney. Securities, for instance. Corporate fundraising. He’d hired the firm when he’d been one doctor in one office, just incorporating. As he’d grown, it had all seemed so straightforward to him. His clinics, while highly successful, hadn’t been a part of rich society. His locations were middle-to lower-middle class. His clientele, the same. His pricing and services had been designed to serve those who didn’t have hundreds of dollars to spend on canine and feline cancer treatments, or state-of-the-art testing that ran into the thousands per test.

He’d never considered himself a business that could and should invest in securities.

However, as he helped himself to a beer from Scott’s refrigerator and headed out to the porch, he was intrigued by the thought of future investment potential.

And by an idea that had started to form when he’d been going over Sage’s information. When he got up and running again, if he was even half as successful as he had been, he needed to think about franchising. With strict caveats that would protect his brand and give him rights to intercede if he ever felt that policies weren’t being followed as they’d been designed.

He’d texted Scott that he was back. He wasn’t intending to leave the porch. He’d avail himself of early-morning beach time, when he could surf, and though the Ocean Breeze sandy oasis was surrounded by cliffs on each side, he’d figured that he could still play around a bit. The beach, with more than twenty cottages set on nearly a minimum of an acre apiece, stretched for two miles. As long as he stayed center beach, and didn’t ride out too far, he’d be fine.

Equally important, by only using the beach in the morning, he wouldn’t incur the risk of running into Sage.

The woman was giving him a quicker lease on a new life than he’d envisioned ever happening. No way he was going to screw that up with some chance encounter because he craved the feel of the ocean on his skin.

The sand beneath his feet.

Those had been the panaceas for his pain after a hard day for his entire life, his sleep aids. But he could thrive just fine without them.

All he had to do was step off the porch to feel the sand. He could see the ocean. Inhale the salty breeze. And oftentimes he went weeks without a trip to the beach.

He could also head to a public beach in San Diego if he had to. They’d sufficed for more than half of his life.

No, the problem wasn’t that he couldn’t go get in the water in front of him. It was that Sage Martin could.

She had nothing to lose if the stay-away agreement between them was broken.

The woman was savvy as hell. He’d pegged her right for wanting an unofficial restraining order. At home. In her private space. Her personal life.

And she was paying one hell of a price to get it, too.

Sitting there sipping, no longer avoiding sights down the beach—he’d already seen her up close—he had to admit he admired the hell out of the woman as much that night as he ever had...

“You aren’t Scott.”

The friendly, feminine voice came from—the opposite direction from Sage’s place. Gray swung his head around to see the slender, model-gorgeous brunette standing at the rail of Scott’s porch, smiling up at him.

“No,” he told her, meeting the open brown gaze with a smile of his own. “I’m Gray. Grayson Bartholomew.” He said the full name without forethought.

So relaxed, and relieved, so lost in thoughts of Sage Martin, that he’d failed to hold his tongue.

“The vet in the news?” The woman’s smile had faded, but the friendliness behind her expression had not. She’d taken one of the three steps up to the porch, bringing lovely, long, tanned thighs into view beneath the short white denim skirt she wore.

“That’s the one.”

“I didn’t know you were a friend of Scott’s.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t know you were, either.” They were sizing each other up. He could give as good as he got. And then some. Wasn’t sure how hard he wanted to try.

“I’m Harper. I own the place just down that way.” She pointed to the right. Which meant he’d driven by her driveway several times in the past two days. Just as Sage had driven by Scott’s. With Gray’s SUV parked in one of her brother’s two spots. One road. Only way in or out.

He nodded. They’d already covered his introduction.

And before he could decide whether or not to offer her a beer, a big flash of brown came around the side of the cottage and up the steps, to sit straight up on the porch, tongue hanging out, staring at the woman.

Harper laughed, an infectious sound that made Gray smile, and said, “I’m sorry. Meet Aggie. She’s particularly fond of Morgan, though you wouldn’t think so, based on their sizes.”

Sitting forward, Scott reached out a hand, calling Aggie with the soft, soothing voice that came naturally to him. And when she came, told the dog to sit.

Aggie, easily one hundred twenty pounds, sat. Lifted a paw for shaking, and Gray accepted the greeting, returned it.

“A Newfoundland,” he said then, petting the dog, and, because he couldn’t help himself, looking her over for good health, too.

“Yeah, full bred,” Harper said, climbing fully up on the porch to sit in the empty chair. “I never saw myself for such a big dog, but she’s the most gentle, kind being I’ve ever known.”

A note in her voice gave Gray the impression that perhaps Harper had known a particularly unkind being at some point, but he let it pass. Offered the woman a beer instead.

And spent the next half hour feeling like a normal guy enjoying a few relaxing moments after a good day’s work.

As she got up to leave, Harper seemed open to a repeat experience. Gray opened his mouth to offer—she was not only beautiful, but also an accomplished choreographer and dancer—but then he shut his chin without saying anything more than that he’d probably see her around.

He’d enjoyed his time chatting with her.

He’d enjoyed Aggie more.

And didn’t want to even consider the idea that seeing Sage Martin again, feeling her presence down the beach, had anything to do with his reactions.

At. All.