LITMIR.BIZ

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at Alex. “Maybe you can help me. I’m looking for Richard Roman.”

      “I believe he’s in his office at the moment,” Alex said, sliding onto the stool behind the reception desk. “Andy, why don’t you bring this gentleman to Dad’s office?”

      Andy didn’t move a muscle. “Is he expecting you?”

      “I really don’t think so,” he replied, unfazed by the challenge in her voice and body language.

      Just as she’d thought. The man was probably a pushy real estate agent. It wouldn’t be the first time a developer had attempted to buy the inn out from under them. She and her sisters all loved the inn, but to her father, it was a living, breathing entity, a piece of his heritage. The inn was part of him.

      The suit this stranger had on was expensive. Obviously he was good at what he did.

      Andy didn’t trust him a whit.

      “Then why don’t you give me your name and number and I’ll have my father call you at his convenience,” she suggested.

      “Andy, that’s not how Dad does business,” Alex chided. “I’m sorry. She’s still rather new at all this.”

      “I understand,” he replied, offering a smile that went a long way to lighting up the immediate area.

      “I’m glad you do, but I’m afraid I don’t—we don’t,” Andy said stubbornly, slanting an annoyed glance in Alex’s direction. “Now, if you’re not going to tell us why you want to see my father, I’m afraid we’re going to have to go back to plan B.”

      “Which is?” the stranger asked gamely.

      “You giving us your name and my father calling you when he has the time,” she repeated.

      Andy didn’t care for the look that came over the man’s features. As if he knew something she didn’t. “Trust me, he’ll want to make time for this,” he assured her.

      That was when she noticed that he was carrying a briefcase. A briefcase that he now patted.

      The pieces came together in her head. “You’re a lawyer, aren’t you?”

      His smile was incredibly sensual. Andy didn’t know which annoyed her more, his amusement or his sensuality.

      “What makes you say that?” he asked.

      He didn’t bother denying that he was a lawyer. “Because only a lawyer could get under my skin this fast.”

      Her eyes narrowed as she considered the stranger from an entirely different perspective. Now he wasn’t just an annoying person who wouldn’t give her his name, he represented a possible problem, the nature of which was still unclear.

      “What’s this all about?”

      “Currently, it’s about you not letting me see your father,” he replied calmly.

      “He’s a very busy man,” Andy informed the guy coldly. She was aware that Alex was staring at her, but she ignored her sister. “We can’t just let anyone waltz in and interrupt what he’s doing. Now either state your business or give me your card and I’ll have him—”

      “Give me a call at his convenience, yes, you’ve already covered that,” the lawyer said, clearly tiring of this game.

      Well, he was the one who started the cat-and-mouse by not giving them his name. It was the oddest way to request a business meeting she’d ever heard of.

      “I assure you that your father is definitely going to want to talk to me, Miss Roman. My name is MacArthur. Logan MacArthur.”

      Andy glared at all six foot two of the man.

      The lawyer cast an impeccable silhouette, and if she knew anything about clothes—and she did—the suit the man had on was roughly equal in price to her entire wardrobe.

      He seemed to be someone born to privilege. Andy had an instinctive reaction to people who behaved that way.

      She didn’t like them.

      He looked her right in the eye. “Now may I see your father?”

      “No,” Andy answered.

      Her answer surprised her sister. The expression on Logan MacArthur’s face was impossible to read.

      “Now you can tell me what this is all about and why you want to talk to him.”

      “Is she always this protective?” Logan asked, turning to Alex.

      “I don’t know,” Alex confessed with a vague shrug. “Most of the time she’s in school.”

      Andy’s eyes blazed. She didn’t care for the way Alex’s reply reduced her to the state of an adolescent whose actions had no logic.

      “Are you always this secretive?” she challenged MacArthur. Something was off, she could feel it. Why was he being so cagy?

      Alex had had enough. “Andy, watch the desk. I’ll take Mr. MacArthur to Dad’s office.”

      Andy frowned. Every step was an effort for Alex these past few weeks and seeing her ponderously make her way to the back of the inn would be an oppressive weight on her conscience.

      Andy blew out a beleaguered breath. “You stay where you are, Alex,” she said curtly. “I’ll take him.”

      Alex shifted off the stool and motioned Andy over.

      “You’re sure?” Alex asked in a lowered voice, regarding her uncertainly. “You’re not going to lead him through the back entrance down to the beach, are you?”

      “Don’t tempt me.” There wasn’t even a glimmer of a smile on her lips. Stepping away, she crossed directly in front of Logan and said, “Let’s go.”

      “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, falling in behind her. “Nice tree,” he commented as they passed the Christmas tree.

      “Thank you!” Alex called.

      Since she was the one he’d found on the ladder, putting the finishing touches on the oversize Christmas tree, he’d meant the comment for the firebrand who was leading him.

      “Did you do all the decorating?” he asked. “Or are you the kind who delegates?”

      Andy spared him one uninterested glance before looking straight ahead again. “You don’t have to make small talk.”

      “I was just curious.”

      “I guess a lot of questions aren’t being answered today,” she snapped.

      He laughed in response, despite the fact that he could tell his amusement didn’t sit well with Andy. But at the moment, there was nothing she could do about it.

      The door to her father’s office was closed. She knocked on it lightly. “Dad? Are you there?” When there was no reply, she knocked again, just as lightly as before. Still no answer.

      The young woman turned and said, “Looks like you’re out of luck after all, MacArthur. He’s not in.”

      She turned on her heel. He remained in front of the door.

      “Where else would he be?” Logan asked.

      If looks could kill, present company would have been reduced to a pile of smoldering embers. “I’m sorry, he didn’t file his itinerary with me this morning so I really haven’t a clue. Seems like you’re going to have to leave your card with me, after all.”

      Oh, no. I’m not making it that easy for you, Logan thought. “I have a feeling if I did that, it might just inspire you to test out your shredder.”

      “We don’t have a shredder,” she informed him. “But now that you mention it, that is something to think about.” Again she moved away from the door—and again, Logan didn’t follow.

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