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“You don’t want this to work out.”
She snapped her head around. “What?”
“Didn’t you say you have an offer for me? For the fair? That means you want me out of here ASAP.”
Sasha glared, wishing for a second time he’d remove his stupid glasses. Moreover, she wished they weren’t driving this fancy bloody car with him in the actual, and metaphorical, driver’s seat. “Yeah, and God willing, you want the same.”
“I don’t know what I want yet, so don’t hold your breath.”
Sasha curled her hands tighter around the straps of her bag in her lap. Her passion for the fair was so deeply seated no one but her grandfather and her best friend, Leah, could possibly understand what John Jordon’s presence did to her.
The man confused her. Gave her zero to work with...or on. She had to figure out a way to break through his ice-cold veneer whenever they talked about Kyle. She’d made him smile a few times, which was one thing, but clearly anything to do with his father sparked a livid anger she’d be hard-pressed to break.
She couldn’t lose this chance to make the fair hers again. Not now. Not after all the careful planning and waiting. She breathed deep. It was always best to tackle a challenge head-on. Not avoid the ugly and sit safe in the pretty. That achieved nothing. If she could figure out how much loyalty he had to Kyle, she’d know how much of a barrier John would erect against selling Funland to her—and how likely he was to find a way out of that godforsaken, and possibly devastating, clause. She swallowed. “I’ve got a question.”
He glanced at her. “Hmm?”
“Why don’t you call Kyle ‘Dad’? Seeing he’s summoned you here and kicked Freddy to the curb, I’m assuming your father trusts you, otherwise why would he—”
“Kyle called me here because he can’t afford to trust anyone else. You and I both know he has enemies all over Templeton and beyond. I’m here because he’s halfway up shit creek without a paddle. Believe me, if he could’ve asked anyone else to ensure all his loose ends were tied up, he would have.”
“But you’re his son. It makes sense he’d—”
“Son?” He eased to a stop at a red light. “He slept with my mother. That’s it.” He whipped his sunglasses from his face and tossed them onto the dash. “He’s not my dad. That’s the first and last time I hope to have to tell you that.”
His glare was a strange, complicated mix of sadness and anger that struck Sasha’s chest like a demolition ball.
“What the hell happened between you two?” she whispered.
His broad chest rose and fell beneath the tight stretch of his shirt as his gaze left hers and wandered over her face, coming to a stop at her mouth. “We’ll never have enough time together for me to tell you what happened between Kyle and me so let’s just concentrate on why we’ve been thrown together like this. Business, Sasha. We talk business only from now on.”
She pursed her lips and turned away from his mesmerizing blue eyes, her body rigid with a nervousness she’d never experienced around his father. The anger emanating from John was in no way normal, yet she didn’t sense any violence in him like she had in Kyle. In John, there was only sadness—and a whole dollop of a man recovering from huge betrayal.
The question was, what the hell did he intend to do about it? And would she get caught in the guaranteed and dangerous cross fire?
* * *
JOHN TRIED AND failed to level his breathing as he pressed hard on the gas and screeched away from the light. Damn Sasha and her incessant questions. Her intelligent, far-too-aware gaze didn’t help, either. Did she ever quit interfering? Or flirting? John inwardly cursed. Flirting? She wasn’t flirting—he damn well wanted her to flirt. That was the crux of his frustration and he was more angry about that than anything Kyle had exposed him to so far.
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
God, he didn’t want to shout at Sasha and he certainly didn’t want to frighten her. He loved women. Loved the kids he worked with even more. His father had already seeped into his blood, turning him into someone he’d constantly fought so hard not to be. An angry, bitter man like Kyle.
The busy road caused him to stop and start in a long queue of traffic, bringing his nerves to the point of breaking. A tense silence hung heavy in the air, pressing on his chest and making him want to apologize as they slowed to a stop at a junction. He couldn’t show her a single facet of the personality he left in Oxford. The funny, kind history teacher whom the staff held in high regard because “he has a way with the kids,” or the guy who scribbled away at a Tudor mystery novel in his spare time. John smiled wryly.
God, he’d love to know what she thought of that John Jordon.
He sensed her study of him and turned. Her brow was furrowed, her eyes almost black as she stared with open curiosity. He snapped his eyes to the windshield and his armor slid into place with a resounding clunk inside his head. He’d been a good man, a good teacher and mentor for a long time. He liked that person and intended keeping him under wraps for the entirety of his time in the Cove. More and more people would soon know he was here and wonder why. He would find a way to leave Kyle without a penny of his immoral earnings and then leave.
Forging friendships—he glanced at Sasha—and starting to like people was out of the question. If he kept up the mystery surrounding himself, no one need know how he was venting an anger so deep it was shameful. The less Sasha got to know him, the easier he could leave town guilt-free because she had no idea who he really was and how much John actually cared about Kyle and the life he’d led without his only son.
Exhaling through gritted teeth, John swallowed his pride. One of them had to take the high road in the face-off growing at high velocity between them. “You’re going to have to give me directions to wherever it is you think we should head first.”
“What were you just thinking?”
God damn it. Can’t she keep any thoughts to herself? Lord knows it isn’t that difficult. “Nothing. Where are we going?”
“Fine.”
He stole another look at her as she hitched her elbow on the door and stared toward the amusement arcades lit up like a mini-Vegas beside them.
She sighed theatrically, waved her hand nonchalantly. “You want to play it cool and not afford me the luxury of getting to know you better, we’ll go to Marian’s. Maybe she’ll break you.” She laughed. “Scrap that. I know she’ll break you.”
“First of all, no one is breaking anyone. Second of all, who’s Marian? The idea isn’t morning coffee at someone’s house. I want to discover the hubbub of this supposedly quaint seaside town.”
“Supposedly quaint?”
He edged the car forward in the slow-moving traffic. “I’ll admit, on the surface Templeton Cove looks nice, picturesque, interesting even, but anywhere my father decided to live and work can’t be any of those things once a person scratches the surface.”
She scowled. “Templeton Cove isn’t Kyle’s creation, you know. The people who live here built this place. The decent people. The people who do their utmost to keep it clean, friendly and welcoming for the thousands of visitors who come every year. Not to mention the hundreds of people who live good, honest lives here. Your father was nothing more than a damn blemish on its crystal-blue horizon. And I for one say good bloody riddance to him.”
John smiled. “Bingo. Something we agree on.”
She glared. “We’re not agreed on anything until I know for sure what you want. How can you expect me to believe you’re not just going to pick up the illegal reins now Kyle’s gone? Why else would he pass over Freddy unless he knew you were much more of a suitable candidate for what he had in mind?”
John’s smile slipped. “I’m not here to pick up Kyle’s reins.”
“Then why?” Her eyes were hard, determined.
A horn sounded behind him, and she jumped. John snapped his gaze to the front. An empty gap of at least two car lengths stretched from the hood of his car to the junction. Cursing, he accelerated forward. “Which way?”
“Left.”
He joined the main road leading into town. “So, who’s Marian?”
“I assume the change of subject is your way of telling me to mind my own business?”
“I’m not answering any questions as far as Kyle’s concerned.”
She sniffed. “Fine.”
The next few seconds passed in strained silence before John released a heavy breath. “Is Marian a friend of yours?”
She sighed. “She owns a bakery by the beachfront. We’ll grab a coffee and I’ll introduce you. If you’ve got any strength left in that muscled body of yours once Marian’s finished with you, it’ll be a miracle.”
Muscled body? John savored the thought she’d noticed his body. At least it wasn’t just him imagining the heat between them. He shook his head and smiled. “If you haven’t managed to upset me, I don’t believe for one minute this Marian can be any more of a pain in the butt. I’ll be fine.”
John glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. She shot him a glare before turning to look out the side of the car. Score to him. He’d only driven a few hundred yards when brown-and-white signs along the side of the road indicated the beach, thus leading him in the general direction without the need for further conversation. Pressing on the gas, he concentrated on looking for the bakery, rather than the continual distraction of Sasha’s shapely legs showing beneath the hem of her white shorts.
He didn’t have to look far. A long queue of patrons waited to get inside Marian’s Bonniest Bakery. The shiny blue-and-white awning over the window boasted the owner’s name in bold white letters. As he drew closer, the smell of coffee and sweetness, which could only be the result of jelly doughnuts, brownies and every other sweet treat known to man, teased his nostrils.
“And here we are.” He pulled alongside the curb.
She sighed. “I am so looking forward to a cup of coffee...and this particular introduction.”
She leaned to the side and snapped off her seat belt. The caress of her dark hair brushed his forearm where he held the stick shift. John snatched his arm away, but not before her perfume hit him. The soft, floral and incredibly feminine scent shouldn’t have suited a woman so kick-ass, stubborn and mouthy as her, yet it did...perfectly. When his dick twitched in appreciation, he hurriedly removed his seat belt and yanked the keys from the ignition. “Let’s go.”
He snatched his glasses from the dash, opened the door and slammed it shut. He headed around the hood, but she was already waiting on the sidewalk before he had a chance to open her door. He dropped his outstretched hand to his side.
She stared at the bakery’s facade. “This place is never quiet, so even though I haven’t a clue what you’re expecting to gain from talking to a few people, you’ll have plenty to choose from.” She pointed toward the queue, a wide grin displaying her beautiful teeth. “Let’s wait in line, shall we?”
Still trying to figure out why she appeared to find the whole idea of him stepping inside the bakery so funny, John slipped on his glasses and followed her to the end of the queue. The line moved quickly as people ducked out of the shop and more entered. Four out of the five who came outside carried blue-and-white striped boxes as well as lidded cups of coffee.
“Seems everyone in town missed breakfast.”
“Believe me, it’s hard to leave Marian’s with just the coffee you came in for. You’ll find that out soon enough.”
“I don’t think so. I’m more a pastry-and-pie kind of guy.”
She laughed. “Then you’re a goner whether you like it or not.”
“What do you—”
“See?” She pressed her finger to the window, and John leaned over her shoulder to get a closer look.
Struggling not to inhale the scent of her again, his gaze fell on the trays of golden-brown pastries and breads, crispy sausage rolls and slices of homemade, ridiculously loaded pizza. He swallowed. “They have a gym in town, right?”
She laughed and pulled back, her shoulder bumping the center of his chest. He purposely and cruelly planted his feet solidly on the ground, waiting to see what she would do. The flush of color that rose in her face sent a rush of hot male pride through his veins. He had her trapped between his body and the window. The seconds pulsed between them as he studied her mouth.
He couldn’t deny Sasha had that thing. That special something that was effortlessly sexy in a handful of women—and made men want to dance around them in some strange prehistoric mating ritual.
She reached up and whipped the glasses from his face so fast they scraped painfully across his nose. He winced. “Hey—”
“No fair. You want to get all macho and moody on me, let me see your face.” She pushed the glasses into his chest and shoved him away to stand in front of him, then turned her back to him.
Grinning, he stared at the crown of her beautiful head, took the time to study her amazing mane of jet-black hair that fell almost to her waist. Why did someone come to work at a fairground and leave their hair loose like that? His gaze traveled lower over her butt. Unless of course, she purposely left it that way for his benefit. It had been tied up into a high ponytail when they’d met last night....
“Stop staring at my ass.”
He snapped his gaze up. “I’m not.”
“Windows are reflective.”
He turned to the window and their eyes locked in the glass. Shit. He shrugged. “Better I look and appreciate than don’t, right?”
“Pervert.”
She faced front as the queue moved forward and they stepped inside. Eight booths big enough to comfortably sit six people each lined a window at the far side, with tables scattered throughout, and a huge deli counter covering the breadth of the shop at the back. The atmosphere was relaxed and cheerful as bursts of laughter mixed with the chatter from the customers, and shouts and calls came from behind the busy serving area.
He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and slipped out a ten-pound note. “Why don’t you grab us a table and I’ll do the honors. What are you drinking?”
She tipped her head back and met his eyes. “Cappuccino would be great. Thanks. I’ll be right over there at the front of the counter. I don’t want to miss any of the action.”
He frowned. “What action?”
She wiggled her eyebrows and left the queue. John followed her progress as she sashayed between the tables. She hung the strap of her bag on the back of a pine chair and sat, propping her elbows atop the gingham tablecloth. She intertwined her fingers and rested her chin on them, her dark gaze locked on his, a soft smile playing at her lips.
When his dick woke up again, John snatched his gaze from hers and approached the counter. The young girl serving was busy putting the change in the till from the previous customer. She didn’t bother looking up when she spoke. “Yes, sir, what can I get you?”
“A black coffee and a cappuccino, please.”
“Coming right up.” She slammed the till closed and finally met his eyes. “Oh...wow.” Her cheeks flushed a deep red before she turned and headed for the huge steel coffeemaker behind her.
Frowning, John slipped his glasses into the vee of his shirt.
“Well, hello there. And who might you be.”
The woman who appeared in front of him tossed him a wide grin. She was ample in stature and, judging by the glint in her eye, intended to eat him alive. Straightening his shoulders, he held out his hand. “John Jordon. Nice to meet you.”
Her smile vanished and the glint disappeared as if a storm had blown in and snuffed out a candle. “Well, well, well.”
John glanced over his shoulder toward Sasha as unease rolled up his spine. Her grin widened. He turned back to the woman behind the counter and dropped his offered hand. “Is everything okay, ma’am?”
She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, pushing her rather generous bosom to rest on top of them. “I don’t know. We’ll have to give it a little time before either of us knows, won’t we?”
John raised his hands in surrender. “I just came in for coffee.”
“Where’s Sasha?” She ran her gaze over his chest. “You left her to run that fairground on her own? Or is that good-for-nothing Freddy Campton down there shouting the odds?”
Ah, so this is Marian. He smiled. “Marian, right?”
She didn’t as much as lift the corners of her mouth. “The one and only.”
Seconds passed before John tilted his head in Sasha’s direction, keeping his gaze on Marian’s. “Sasha’s over there. No doubt enjoying the show.”
Marian slid her gaze toward Sasha and the transformation in her demeanor was so ridiculous, John was struck dumb. Her face broke into a wide smile and her eyes lit with adoration before she dropped her arms and hastily wiped them on the towel hanging from the waistband of her apron. She waved at Sasha. “I’ll be right over.” She turned to John and the smile vanished. “Go grab a seat. I’ll bring your coffees over.”
Giving up hope of a friendly exchange, John lifted his shoulders. “Great. Thank you.”
He approached Sasha and stared at her. “Enjoying yourself?”
“Absolutely.”
“I’m guessing you and Matron Marian are pretty close?”
Sasha laughed. “If she hears you call her that, she’ll slice your balls off quicker than you can draw your next breath.”
“Is that so?”
