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  He cocked an eyebrow at her non sequitur. She did not come here to be set up with this man.

  “Talk to me,” he said. “I’ll hear you. And I won’t serve you any wine.” Humor danced in his eyes. “Not if you’re a lightweight.”

  “Seriously? You want to hear about my plans?” she asked as she narrowed her gaze. Suspicion curled through her vitals.

  “What else would I be interested in?” he asked silkily. His brows knit and the hairs there stood on end, making them look like caterpillars. The man had been a recluse too long. Basic barbering had been ignored.

  Lust came to mind, but she didn’t say it. She rolled her shoulders to loosen them. “I think I need to sit down. There’s more going on here than I was prepared for.”

  “That’s Delphine for you. The Machiavelli family had nothing on her.” He indicated the living room area. Small, neat, and cozy. Decorated in early bachelor, with a futon for a sofa and one solid deep brown leather lounge chair that sat directly in front of the monstrous television.

  “To be clear, I didn’t quit my job because of Delphine. There were other factors.”

  His only response was a shrug. “It’s done now. You’ve got a lot at stake.”

  Was that a coffee table against the wall with one corner held up by decorative pavers? Yes. This wasn’t early bachelor; it was college kid décor. But clean, like the kitchen. All the important pieces were new. He had all the luxury a man alone could need.

  She cleared her throat and perched on the edge of the futon. The mattress was thin and lumpy, and the frame edge felt hard beneath her bottom. She was afraid if she sat back, the whole thing would sag, and she wouldn’t get out again without him tugging her to her feet.

  And she really didn’t want to hold this man’s hand.

  She glanced around the rest of the room. A long dead plant stood in the corner, dry as corn husks in October. He tracked her gaze. “It was my great-aunt’s plant and I’ve been watering it, but I think I got here too late.”

  She gave him a weak smile. Her interest in sharing her business plan had waned. He’d laugh at her, Mr. Big Real Estate guy. O’Hara Enterprises brokered international projects and property.

  “You talk, I’ll listen,” he said as he settled himself in the lounger. He popped up the footrest and folded his hands over his flat belly. He watched her for a moment and then waved his hand like Caesar sending Christians to the lions, urging her to say something.

  Still stunned that she was unemployed and staring at the walls that Grady O’Hara had erected around himself, she couldn’t think where to start. While she hesitated, he took pity on her.

  “Delphine’s persuasive,” he said not unkindly, “but you don’t strike me as the type to quit your job without good reason. And my sister’s not so cruel as to convince someone to give up their livelihood. Why not begin with what drove you to leap into the unknown?”

  Chapter Two

  GRADY HAD TO HAND IT to Delphine, she’d picked an interesting one this time. And if he had to guess, he’d say this Farren Parks had no idea she’d been set up. At least not when she’d been pounding on his door. But now? She was catching on.

  He read dawning understanding in her nervous glances and in the way she focused on something over his left shoulder. Meeting his gaze had become impossible and she was taking a long time to answer his question about her leap into the unknown.

  Farren looked nervous enough to make a dash for the door, so he attempted a smile to put her at ease. Her startled reaction to seeing his mouth curl up at the ends, put an end to that. Smiling had never been his strong suit. He just wasn’t good at it. Add to that he was rusty. Hadn’t smiled since his wedding rehearsal dinner.

  And hadn’t had a reason to smile since.

  “Why not start with the idea you have for my motel? We’ll go from there.” He kept his gaze north of her curves.

  Her purply-blue eyes slowed to a stroll as they swept by his face. She was cataloguing him as he’d done through the windows with her for the last three days. He wondered what she saw. He hadn’t looked in a mirror in weeks.

  She scrutinized his face but didn’t lock onto his gaze. Fair enough. Not everyone felt comfortable linking eyes during a business presentation. Women especially. They worried it looked too inviting. That’s what Veronica had told him. But his fiancée had told him lots of things. Now, he discounted most of it.

  “Yes, yes, the motel. That’s the best place to start.” Farren cleared her throat and threw back her softly rounded shoulders, like a schoolgirl reading her book report to the class.

  He’d hated doing that.

  “Would a glass of water help?” he offered.

  “It would,” she replied through a grateful sigh. “I was excited to present this idea to you and now I’m questioning everything.”

  “Me, too,” he murmured. He rose to get her water and then spoke from the fridge as he held the glass to the water dispenser. “Don’t question yourself at this point, not about all the work you’ve put into this plan of yours. You’re here, so you might as well tell me.” He’d give her a few minutes to make her case, then let her down gently.

  Delphine had missed the mark by a mile with Farren. He and she would never suit. He preferred confident women, not wilting flowers who scared easily, no matter how pretty they were. He frowned to himself. He’d thought of Farren as having a bossy persistence in her expression through the window. What was that if not confidence?

  “Don’t let Delphine’s machinations stick in your head. Her matchmaking has nothing to do with your plans for my motel. Keep to the plan and I’ll listen.”

  He had no idea why he reassured her, or helped her get over her awkwardness, but this mess of an evening was on Delphine, not Farren. It would be cruel to make Farren suffer for his sister’s schemes.

  “Thank you,” she said as she took the glass of water from him. She was careful not to brush his fingers. Good. She wasn’t looking to manufacture false intimacy where he felt nothing but curiosity. Knowing Delphine’s penchant for research, Farren was likely single, available, educated, and from a good family. She’d have to be to suit Delphine’s pre-requisites.

  Still, Farren wasn’t here to drag him into a romance. That was a refreshing change.

  Farren took a long drink and then settled the glass on the broad pine arm of the ancient futon. She gave him the same forced smile he’d tried on her. Her lips lifted like a snarling dog’s, and he held back a chuckle. She was no better at forced smiles than he was. Her natural one was a killer, though. Blistering to a man who’d been alone for months.

  She cleared her throat after she gave up on the half-snarl, half-tooth exam. “Singles Fest.”

  “Singles what?”

  “I’m sorry you think so poorly of your sister’s matchmaking, but that’s exactly the basis of my plan. Matchmaking. That’s why this conversation feels so awkward. Your mind has gone to personal matches, while I’m all about the business of matching other people.” She let her gaze find the end of her knees while he struggled to take in what she’d said.

  She peeped her pretty eyes at him from under her brows. He lifted his chin at her in a “go on” gesture. But a sick inkling trickled down his spine. His matchmaking sister had sent him a matchmaker. Hadn’t Delphine done enough already? Even if she didn’t know what he knew about his fiancée, Delphine had to be stopped.

  “I work, er, used to work as an event coordinator at the Sands Hotel. I made sure all the weddings went off without a hitch, and that all conferences had plenty of water and tea and coffee for their attendees.”

  “Logistics.”

  She nodded. “Sort of. I got supplies to the right place at the right time. Chairs, tables, water, flowers. It wasn’t the most glamorous job, but I liked it well enough. And most jobs here rely on tourism.” She blinked twice. “And I was good at it. Really good.”

  “Okay, you have a background in event planning and are organized.” He tried to sound encourag
ing, so she’d relax and get through this dreary presentation faster.

  “Yes. I’m organized.” She clasped her hands in her lap and looked at him, engaged with her topic, her enthusiasm allowing her to catch his eye. She looked shy, suddenly, and excited. Stunningly beautiful, really, with her wavy black hair and gorgeous eyes.

  “I noticed how often single people found themselves in the bar alone, or with other singles, looking to meet someone. For instance, weddings are full of matches struggling to be made. Most of the time the people who were looking found someone. For the night or maybe longer.” She waved her thoughts on that away with dancing fingers. “The ones who failed to connect were single parents.”

  “You can tell when someone at a wedding is a single parent?”

  She looked at the ceiling in recollection. When her gaze found his again, she was earnest. “Not at first, I couldn’t, but eventually, I developed a sense about them. They tended to be closer to thirty or forty than twenty. Their party clothes are generally five or so years out of date. Once children come along, I guess it’s hard to keep up with the newest fashion trends.”

  “Okay. I have to give it to you, not everyone would notice the nuances.” Her skills of observation had been honed. Understanding what people want was a skill that couldn’t be taught. She wanted to help people find the right life partner. Her skillset had identified a niche market and the entrepreneur in her wanted to fill it.

  His matchmaking sister had set him up with a matchmaker. Worse, one who believed this was her life’s mission. A couple of blistering epithets winged through his head. But he nodded calmly and hoped Delphine’s affairs were in order because her life expectancy had just crashed to nil.

  And when she was gone, he’d call dibs on Gramps’s classic T-bird if she hadn’t willed it to some other member of the family. She didn’t deserve it, anyway, especially not after she’d had it painted pink.

  “Last year,” Farren continued, pulling him back to the present. “I became obsessed with the idea of hosting a festival celebrating single parenthood. There are singles cruises for people who can afford them. There are singles dining clubs for people who want to make new friends or enjoy restaurant meals with others. And let’s not mention all the dating apps there are. Why not offer family-oriented inexpensive short holidays or long weekends that focus on single parents?”

  He glommed onto one word.

  “Inexpensive.” He sighed as understanding dawned. “Let me guess. That’s where my motel comes in?” He hadn’t bothered opening the place since he’d inherited it months ago. He didn’t need or want people coming and going and making work. He didn’t want to hear the screeches of happy children or splashing in the pool.

  Or laughter.

  He was busy running O’Hara Enterprises and had more than enough to do every day. Especially since he no longer had an assistant or a sister to help. He’d disowned Delphine last month when the truth had come out. She didn’t know she’d been disowned, because he wasn’t talking to her, but she’d figure it out soon. Delphine pretended that because they were twins, they had a deeper connection than regular siblings.

  But being different genders, meant different eggs. Meant no deeper twin connection. The only thing it really meant was she’d been kicking him in the backside since before birth. He loved her. Of course he did. She was his sister. His first playmate, first friend. His competition for time and attention from their parents. His first confidant. But her interference had to stop.

  But Farren was still talking. She’d talked over him as if he hadn’t asked where his motel came into her plan. As if she hadn’t heard him.

  Time to end things so he could go back to whatever the hell he’d been doing before she forced her way inside. He rubbed his hand over his head and noticed how shaggy his hair had become while he’d been holed up.

  “You have the largest swimming pool on the island and the biggest playground, too,” she was saying. “Your great-aunt loved children and this motel was full of families because she catered to them. It’s been years since the motel was at full capacity, but it’s a jewel to me.”

  “You remember Aunt Ellen?” He’d enjoyed seeing the flamboyant woman he’d once called a charming renegade. She’d quoted him in her will when she’d left him the motel. Who knew such a small thing would result in him having this perfect bolt hole?

  Farren smiled, and this time, it was a natural glowing grin that lit her face. He took the punch to the solar plexus like a champ. Then he glowered at her for making him feel something.

  “Yes,” she said brightly. “I remember her. I knew her when I was a child.” She flushed. “I’m one of the few people in town who can say I was born and raised in Last Chance Beach. There aren’t many of us around.” She spoke as if growing up was a rarity and staying in a pokey little beach town an accomplishment.

  He cocked his head trying to appear interested. He wondered what she’d be proud of next. Sitting? Dressing herself?

  “Most of the people I grew up with have left for better jobs and opportunities.” A cloud passed over her face, but she rallied immediately. “I see Last Chance Beach as the best place to live and work. I’m determined to make my own opportunity. I have faith I can do this. Last Chance Beach is enjoying a revitalization and I want to be part of it with your motel.”

  “Very commendable. But no.” He rose to his full height, hoping she’d follow suit and get the hint to leave.

  She didn’t. She sat there, on the edge of the futon looking up at him as if he should care. He sighed, expelling the air with a low growl.

  Heaven help him, she was stubborn. He’d seen the persistence in her face when she’d been pounding on his door. What was that saying? When someone shows you who they really are, believe them.

  He should have believed.

  FARREN HAD BEEN WARNED how much of a grump Grady O’Hara was. Delphine had made that perfectly clear, so when Grady tried to get her to stand up, she stayed seated. He’d have to pry her out of this futon. Farren was not a pushover, no matter how fierce looking the pusher was. She raised her chin and kept on talking. He’d invited her to tell him her plan, so that’s what she’d do.

  She was almost as good at talking as she was at organizing events.

  “You asked if I remember your great-aunt.” She waved him toward his lounger again. “She gave me my first job. I did housekeeping here as a teen, so I’m in the unique position of knowing what goes into the day-to-day running of a motel.” She drew in a deep breath and held up a hand, so he’d know there was more.

  He sank back down into the lounger. She was convinced that a scowl was his resting face. How sad. Grady O’Hara was a morose, lonely man who seemed to want to stay that way. Surely, he’d been happy before the tragedy.

  She couldn’t afford to be sidetracked by sympathy for him. Her plan for the motel maybe exactly the thing to help get him out of his funk. But only if he was ready, her inner voice said. No one could predict how long or how deeply a person would grieve.

  Delphine had said Grady’s business was suffering without his presence in New York. She’d intimated that he’d practically cut her out of his life. That was surely a bad sign. And given his appearance, his situation could be dire.

  “The Landseer is the perfect place for budget-conscious single parents to bring their children,” she explained. “I have a daycare provider lined up for evenings when I plan adult-only activities. I want a nice mix of adult time and family-oriented outings. Singles Fest can take off. By next year word-of-mouth alone will bring in more people. My rates are low, the motel would be bargain-priced and—.”

  “Hold it right there,” he interrupted, sounding reasonable which didn’t hold with the actual words he used.

  But, whatever. The grump had something to say so she closed her mouth and waited.

  “You want me to re-open a long-closed motel in order to turn it into the bargain store of lodgings in the best up-and-coming beach town in the state?” His fake cu
riosity made her grind her teeth.

  “The Landseer hasn’t been closed for that long. A handful of months. Besides, I’ll help you myself. Scrub on my hands and knees if I have to.” Nothing she hadn’t done before.

  “I’d like to see that,” he muttered. Then he caught himself and frowned. “What does my sister have to do with this?”

  He settled more comfortably in his lounger and clasped his large hands over his waist. Farren allowed a sigh of relief.

  Clearly, she’d won this skirmish, but she squirmed inside at his flat tone. Not that she’d let him see how uncomfortable he made her. His question ricocheted inside her head. What did Delphine have to do with this? His sister hadn’t invested a dime. She hadn’t offered guidance or business advice. She’d only convinced Farren to come here to talk Grady into letting her use his motel.

  “She told me where I could find you,” she offered after a moment. Lame. As if she couldn’t track down a man with Grady O’Hara’s public profile. Wealthy, handsome-to-some-women—not her—grieving men were not like pebbles on a beach. They were rare and stood out, especially in a town the size of Last Chance Beach. The way he’d lost his fiancée was tragic by anyone’s standards. The man was hurting, lost, mourning and here she was chattering about setting people up. Talking about people finding love when he’d lost his own not long ago.

  She was all kinds of awful. She sagged in despair at her obstinate behavior. But before she could apologize, he spoke again.

  “Of course, she told you how to find me,” he replied drily. “My sister has a habit of sending women my way. Or, at least, she used to. I thought she’d have given up by now, considering how things went last time.”

  Ridiculous. No sister would do something so conniving when the whole world knew Grady O’Hara’s beautiful fiancée had drowned the night before their wedding in a tragic canoeing accident. He’d arrived in Last Chance Beach immediately after the investigation into her drowning. The conclusion had been that drinking and boating without a lifejacket could be lethal.