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Despite the awkward circumstances, Kinley made it clear that she was standing by her employee. Dan saw no evidence of irritation with the older woman, merely a matter-of-fact acceptance and what seemed to be genuine concern for her well-being. Nor did he think Kinley’s kindness was put on for his benefit. Rhoda’s fierce loyalty to her employers was apparent. His positive first impression of Kinley bumped up another notch.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Ms. Foley.”
She mumbled a reply, though she continued to shoot looks of warning at him.
Kinley cleared her throat. “Rhoda, why don’t you go inside and have a cup of tea to calm your nerves while Logan takes care of your truck?”
Having sent the older woman on her way, she turned back to the men. “Dan, this is my brother, Logan Carmichael.”
Though he saw the family resemblance as they briefly shook hands, Dan noted that Logan’s features were more roughly carved than his sister’s, his jaw squared beneath a three-day growth of dark beard. His brown hair was a shade darker than Kinley’s, and his eyes were hazel, shadowed with what appeared to be a permanent frown. Maybe it was just the damage to the inn that made him look so stern, but Dan suspected Kinley’s brother wasn’t the lighthearted type even under the best of circumstances.
A petite blonde with a sweet face and angelic smile came out the side door of the inn and approached them. “I’ve got Rhoda settled down in the kitchen with some tea. Logan, do you need me to make any calls for you?”
Logan shrugged. “I’ll get the guys to help me start the repairs right away. You can deal with the insurance.”
“Dan, this is our sister, Bonnie,” Kinley said. “Bonnie, meet Dan Phelan, the writer for Modern South magazine. He’s going to be spending an extra day with us. Isn’t that nice?”
Dan couldn’t help but be amused by Kinley’s too-cheery tone. Though she was doing her best to hide it, he would bet she thought it was anything but nice that he’d shown up twenty-four hours early.
If Bonnie was as displeased as her sister, it wasn’t evident in her pleasant expression. She bore only a faint resemblance to her siblings, her eyes a deep blue, her coloring fair, her stature more compact. Striking had been the first adjective to pop into his mind with Kinley. He would have described Bonnie as pretty. Yet his attention continued to be focused primarily on Kinley, even as Bonnie spoke to him. “Rhoda told me you were here. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Phelan. Welcome to our inn.”
“It’s Dan. And thank you. It’s a beautiful place.”
He wasn’t just being polite. Despite the current minor damage, the inn really was lovely. The multibayed Queen Anne–style building was surrounded by an inviting wraparound porch that opened onto the drive-through portico. The siding was a pale gray, the trim pristine white. The front door was painted a bright red and featured leaded-glass inserts and sidelights. A stained glass half-round window above the now-sagging portico drew the eye upward to the peaked, shingled roof against the bright blue sky. Colorful spring flowers bloomed in several tidy beds, and the Blue Ridge Mountains, draped in rapidly dissipating morning fog, formed a spectacular backdrop for it all. Compared to those distant peaks, Bride Mountain was little more than a foothill, but the view was breathtaking.
Bonnie motioned apologetically toward the broken post. “As you can see, we’ve had a little mishap this morning, but fortunately no one was injured and my brother will see that it’s quickly repaired. Please come in through the side door. Breakfast service ended at nine, but I’m sure I can find something for you if you’re hungry.”
“I’ve eaten already, thank you.”
“Coffee, then?”
“Sounds good. I’ll just get my bags.”
“Um—let me get them for you,” Logan offered, not doing a particularly good job of hiding his reluctance.
Because he’d seen Kinley give her brother a sharp nudge, Dan fought a grin as he declined politely. “I’ll let you get to your repairs. I’ll carry my own bags. I pack light.”
Nodding rather curtly, Logan turned back to the damaged portico, already lifting his cell phone to his ear to summon assistance.
“I’ll help you bring in your things,” Kinley offered, subtly directing Dan away from the portico damage and leaving her brother to deal with it. “I’ll show you up to your room and then give you the grand tour when you’re ready.”
“I’d like that,” he said, his gaze focused on her face.
She paused a moment, her head slightly tilted as she met his eyes, and he wondered if she had sensed his immediate attraction to her. But she merely smiled and nodded, speaking in the same briskly professional voice she’d used before. “Let’s get your bags, and I’ll take you in through the side door.”
The disarray outside could not be in starker contrast to the tidy inside of Bride Mountain Inn. The side door opened into the dining area rather than the front foyer. As he followed Kinley through the big room, Dan’s gaze was drawn to the large, sparklingly clean back windows that overlooked the gardens and the distant mountains. The room was airy, immaculate and immediately welcoming. It was easy to imagine himself lingering over coffee at one of the round tables and watching the sky brighten over the flowers, fountain and charming Queen Anne gazebo behind the inn.
She led him into the entryway that would have been his first sight of the place had he come in the front door. The matching leaded-glass sidelights on either side of the door flooded the wood-floored foyer with morning sunlight. A small antique reception desk held a big bouquet of fresh flowers, and an old-fashioned mail cubby on the papered wall behind the desk reinforced the old-world-inn feel to the place. Sparkling crystals dangled from the chandelier that lit the two-story space, and a curving, wood-banistered stairway led upstairs.
“Very nice,” he commented.
Kinley’s quick grin looked more natural than the professional smiles she’d forced after he’d identified himself to her. His initial attraction to her doubled in response. He reminded himself that he was here for business reasons, that he tried to remain objective about the subjects of his articles despite his generally laid-back approach to his job. He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. The past couple of weeks had been stressful. Maybe he was just tired, and a little too susceptible at the moment to a pretty face and an approving smile. He needed a strong cup of coffee, a brisk walk and maybe a nap, after which he was sure he’d have himself under better control.
After plucking a key from behind the desk, Kinley moved toward the stairs. “This way,” she said and started up, his computer bag slung over her shoulder.
Carrying a small suitcase in his right hand and a garment bag in the other, he followed. Despite his best efforts, his gaze lingered on the slight sway of her slender hips as she preceded him. He’d always had a thing for slim hips and long legs...
Shaking his head in self-reproach, he made himself raise his eyes. Maybe he’d have two cups of strong coffee, followed by a very long walk to clear his mind. He could just hear his managing editor—who also happened to be his cousin—lecturing him that lusting after his hostess was no way to start an assignment.
Kinley unlocked the third door on the right at the top of the stairs and escorted him inside. The suite was as immaculate as he had come to expect of this place. The furniture was dark wood in Colonial style, the linens pale yellow trimmed in rich cream. A writing desk, flat-screen television, comfortable-looking chair and ottoman, and a minifridge were among the amenities. A small but luxurious private bathroom was stocked with high-end toiletries and supplies. More fresh flowers in a crystal vase adorned the nightstand, along with a bowl of fresh fruit. The view was spectacular. The last traces of fog had burned off, though he thought he glimpsed a lingering wisp near the large fountain that highlighted the flower garden.
He set his bags on the floor near the Colonial dresser. “I have to say the inn is really beautiful.”
He was rewarded by another of Kinley’s bright smiles. “Thank you. My sister loves decorating and took charge of most of the restoration before we reopened eighteen months ago. Most of what you see is her work.”
Reaching out to take his computer bag from her, he nodded toward her as he set the bag on the desk. “And what do you love to do?”
She answered without hesitation. “I like the business side of running the inn. The marketing, events planning, bookings, that sort of thing. It’s a challenge, and I’ve always enjoyed a challenge.”
“So do I,” he murmured without looking away from her. The enthusiasm in her eyes when she talked of her work made him wonder what other passions excited her. After all, he was a healthy, straight, definitely single male.
As if she’d somehow gotten an inkling of the direction his wayward thoughts had taken, her left eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch. She studied him for a moment with a heightened awareness in her expression—not nerves, he decided, but a hint of intrigue. At least, he thought he was reading her correctly.
He cleared his throat. “You said something about coffee?”
It was much too early for anything stronger. He could only hope a strong shot of caffeine would clear his uncharacteristically cloudy head.
Kinley nodded and moved toward the door. “Join me in the dining room whenever you’re ready. We’ll have coffee, then take that tour I promised.”
“I’ll be right down.” Maybe he’d splash a little cold water on his face first.
* * *
“Where is he?” Bonnie asked in an exaggerated whisper as soon as Kinley came downstairs. She had found her sister lurking in the foyer, presumably ready to duck out of sight into the kitchen if Dan had accompanied Kinley down. None of the other guests were around at the moment.
Keeping her own voice low, Kinley replied, “He’ll be down in a few minutes for coffee and a tour. Fresh coffee ready?”
Bonnie nodded. “I warmed some of the leftover breakfast pastries, too, in case he wants a snack.”
Kinley gave her a thumbs-up sign of approval.
“Can you believe he showed up this morning, of all days?” Bonnie shook her head in dismay. “He couldn’t have timed his arrival more inconveniently if he’d tried.”
“No kidding,” Kinley murmured with a grimace. “A broken post and a sagging portico is hardly the first impression I wanted him to get of the inn. Not to mention that I’m going to have to rearrange my whole schedule now to work him into it today.”
“Logan promised it wouldn’t take long to fix the front. He said most of it would be done by the end of today, by noon tomorrow for sure.”
Kinley focused on the smartphone in her hand, on which she was busily making notes and rearranging scheduled time blocks. “I hope he’s right.”
Bonnie looked toward the staircase again. “You couldn’t have been more wrong in predicting what the travel writer would look like, by the way. He’s, like, the opposite of an older man in a bow tie.”
Without looking up from her phone, Kinley gave a short laugh. “Yeah, I noticed.”
Bonnie flashed a grin. “I thought you might have. He certainly seemed to notice you.”
Remembering that moment when her eyes had met Dan’s upstairs, Kinley cleared her throat. Okay, so maybe there’d been a moment of awareness. For a couple of heartbeats, she’d been tempted to give him a sultry smile, toss her hair, maybe flutter her lashes a bit—the standard signs that a woman was interested. Or at least, as best she could remember. It had been so long since she’d flirted with anyone that she wasn’t entirely sure she still knew how. She had let the opportunity pass, both because it would have been totally unprofessional of her to flirt with a guest of the inn, and because of her vested interest in the review he would write.
Before she could respond to her sister’s teasing, a noise from the stairway alerted her that the subject of their conversation was on his way down. She gave Bonnie a quick look of warning, then turned with a bright smile to greet Dan as he joined them. She’d hoped a few minutes away from him would have gotten her past that initial jolt of attraction, but seeing him bounding lightly down the stairs made her breath catch again. Something about this good-looking guy just got to her in a way no one else had in—well, longer than she could remember.
He carried a small black bag that probably held a camera, reminding her of why he was here. She mentally crossed her fingers that the noises drifting in from outside meant her brother was already busily restoring the front of the inn. Surely Dan would be content to take shots of the other areas of the inn until the front was picture-perfect again.
Sliding her phone into her pocket, she motioned toward the dining room. “Bonnie just told me she has a fresh pot of coffee and some pastries set out for us.”
He nodded. “Sounds great.”
As she accompanied him and her sister into the other room, Kinley smiled somewhat smugly. Bonnie’s pastries were locally renowned, one frequent guest going so far as to term them “heaven on a plate.” Dan already seemed impressed by his suite. After tasting her sister’s coffee and pastries, followed by a carefully guided tour of the place, he would undoubtedly be convinced that the inn deserved a glowing write-up.
From this point on, she was going to make sure his only impressions were positive ones. Just as she would make sure to keep her unexpected attraction to him under firm control. She’d had much more luck with business than with romance in the past, and she would do well to keep that in mind when it came to her dealings with this sexy writer.
Chapter Two
Kinley and Dan had just been seated at a window table with their coffee and a plate of pastries when a tall, broad-shouldered woman barged through the side door, followed by a younger, smaller woman and a preschool-age boy. With a slight wince, Kinley recognized the older woman as Eva Sossaman, the mother of the weekend’s bride-to-be, Serena Sossaman, who looked embarrassed as she trailed after her fuming mom.
“There you are.” Eva pointed a finger accusingly at Kinley. “I need to lodge a complaint about the condition of the inn.”
Of course she did. All too aware of Dan sitting there watching, Kinley rose to deal with the notoriously difficult client. Maybe she’d jinxed herself when she’d wondered what else could go wrong today. Considering how many hours remained until bedtime, she didn’t even want to think about the answer to that mental question.
She called on all her professional training to greet the indignant client with a cheery smile. “Good morning, Eva. And Serena. What can we do for you?”
“We came to take some photographs for Serena’s wedding book,” Eva replied firmly. In all Kinley’s meetings with them since booking the wedding several months earlier, Eva had almost always been the one to speak up while Serena had pretty much acquiesced to her mother’s wishes. “We just saw the front of the inn and we are appalled. Surely you don’t expect our guests to be greeted by that mess outside.”
“There was a small accident this morning, but my brother is working on repairs now,” Kinley assured her. “He promised me that everything will be in place for the wedding. Your guests won’t even know what happened by the time they arrive Saturday.”
“I hope you’re right,” Eva snapped. “We’ve told everyone that the wedding venue is worthy of Serena’s wedding and I would hate to be proven wrong.”
“You won’t be,” Bonnie said, moving to stand closer to Kinley. “Everything is absolutely on track for the wedding and our brother will make sure the grounds are ready. Even the weather forecasts are perfect, which is always a gamble this time of year. Serena’s wedding is going to be beautiful.”
“Ladies, I’d like to introduce you to Dan Phelan,” Kinley said before Eva could voice any more complaints. “Dan is the writer for Modern South who contacted you about observing your wedding, Serena. Dan, this is our bride-to-be, Serena Sossaman and her mother, Eva.”
Eva’s scowl transformed immediately into a beaming smile, as Kinley had hoped it might. Barely giving Serena a chance to murmur a nice-to-meet-you, she nudged her daughter aside and offered her right hand to Dan in a regal gesture. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Phelan. We’re delighted to have you as a guest at my daughter’s wedding. I know you’ll write a lovely story about it. We’ve worked very hard for the past year planning every detail.”
Dan shook her hand only long enough for civility, though his tone was cordial enough. “I’m sure the wedding will be beautiful. But you should understand that I’m here to write about the inn and other local attractions, and why future couples would want to book events here. I’ll use your daughter’s wedding only as an example of the services offered here.”
A loud thump from the table made everyone turn instinctively to look. Eva’s almost-five-year-old grandson had helped himself to a pastry from the plate and was cramming it enthusiastically into his mouth, scattering crumbs and smearing glaze across his face. Added to the stress of the preparations for the rapidly approaching wedding, Eva was babysitting her grandson while his travel-agent parents were away on a business trip. Kinley had been assured by Eva that the trip had been unavoidable, but Serena’s brother and sister-in-law had promised to be back the day before the wedding. Eva sighed loudly. “Grayson, you know you’re supposed to ask Grandmother before you touch anything.”
The boy glanced at her, but didn’t slow down on his munching. Eva turned back to Dan. “Grayson is my son’s child. He is going to be the ring bearer, aren’t you, darling?”
“I’m thirsty,” the boy said around a mouthful of soggy pastry.
“I’ll get you a glass of milk,” Bonnie offered, pulling out a chair for him and offering him a napkin. “Eva, Serena, can I get you some coffee? Or iced tea, perhaps? Feel free to help yourself to a pastry, if you like.”
Taking advantage of the opportunity to escape, Kinley spoke to Dan. “Why don’t I show you around while Bonnie chats with Serena and her mother? If you ladies will excuse us.”
Without giving Eva a chance to detain them longer, Kinley took Dan’s arm to rush him out of the dining room and into the foyer.
He smiled knowingly at her when they were alone. “A challenging customer, huh?”
Because she would never gossip about a customer, Kinley merely smiled. “We do our best to satisfy even the most exacting client. I’m sure Serena and her mother will be very happy with the services we’ll provide for the wedding Saturday. Now, shall we begin our tour? I thought we’d start inside and then view the gardens.”
Taking her cue to change the subject, Dan slipped into a professional manner that matched hers. He removed a small camera from the bag he slung over his shoulder by a thin strap. “Maybe you’d like to stand beside the reception desk? I want to take some preliminary photos during our tour. I’ll try to capture the welcoming atmosphere of this foyer. That chandelier is great, by the way.”
Kinley automatically straightened her cardigan as she moved to the desk. Though she hadn’t been prepared specifically for photos today, she felt somewhat vindicated in her style choices by knowing her outfit was quite appropriate for a magazine shot. Maybe she’d have added a bit more color had she known, but this would do.
“The chandelier is original to the inn,” she said. “As is the desk.”
Dan was already focusing on her, his gaze fixed on the camera screen. She didn’t see how he was going to get the chandelier in that shot, but maybe he just wanted a close-up of her and the desk this time.
“I read the history of the inn you emailed me,” he commented absently, still looking at her image on the screen. “Built by your great-grandfather in the mid-1930s. He and his wife ran it until their son, Leo Finley, eventually took it over. Leo kept the inn open until his wife died some twenty years ago, after which it was closed until you and your brother and sister inherited the place.”
She smiled in approval. “You did read the history.”
After snapping a couple more shots, he looked up from the camera. “I try to be prepared.”
She nodded. “That’s my motto, too.”
He chuckled. “Why does that not surprise me?”
They grinned at each other in a moment of silent communication that felt oddly like bonding—as if they already knew each other, in a way, even though they’d met only an hour or so earlier. Brushing off such uncharacteristic foolishness, she stepped away from the desk and motioned toward the staircase as she went back into her tour-guide spiel. “We have five suites upstairs, the other four very similar to yours. Two handicap-accessible suites are on this main floor. We aren’t set up for children, so we accept only guests over the age of twelve. We direct callers with younger children to several local motels that are more family oriented.”
“A nice little perk for your guests who want to get away from kids,” he murmured.
She nodded and continued, “Bonnie lives full-time downstairs in the basement apartment. It’s accessible only from the outside, to keep it separate from the inn. Uncle Leo converted it into living quarters for himself and his wife many years ago, and that was where he continued to live even after he closed the inn. We had it renovated for Bonnie’s use. We use the attic for storage.”
“You don’t live here?”
Leading him toward the common parlor, she shook her head. “I spend the night downstairs occasionally, especially when we want to get an early start the next day, but I rent a house nearby.”
“And your brother?”
“Logan lives in the caretaker’s cottage at the back of the property, just down the hillside from the gazebo.”
Dan nodded thoughtfully. “So you all work together but you’ve managed to maintain private residences. Good idea.”
She smiled over her shoulder before entering the room they called the parlor. “We know that even the closest of siblings should give each other plenty of space, especially if they want to remain close.”
“I don’t have any siblings, myself, but that sounds like a reasonable philosophy.”
“We think so.” Entering the parlor, she greeted the couple who sat on one of the comfortable sofas, both studying the screen of a tablet computer one of them held. They looked up when she and Dan came into the room. “Dan, this is Travis Cross and Gordon Monroe, who are visiting us for a few days. Guys, meet Dan Phelan, a travel writer who’s staying in room 203.”
