Brambleberry Shores

Sage could feel warmth soak her cheeks. She could only be grateful the coloring she inherited from the Italian side of her family hid her blushing.

“It was. Conan and I bumped into Eben this morning on our daily jog and he, uh, graciously offered to exercise Conan for me.”

Lindsey raised an eyebrow—the one with the diamond stud in it. “You sure that’s all there is to the story? I’m sensing more. Come on, give me all the juice.”

She would not allow anything resembling a guilty expression to cross her features, she vowed. They shared one kiss, that’s all, and she was absolutely not going to share that information with anyone else—especially not Lindsey, who had a vivid imagination and would be spinning this whole thing way out of control.

“What juice?” she said. “You think I spent the night ripping up the sheets with Eben Spencer while his daughter slept in the next room, then I kicked him out of bed so he could go take my dog for a run?”

Lindsey laughed. “Okay. Stupid hypothesis. I have a feeling if a woman had a man like that in bed, she wouldn’t kick him out if the house was on fire, forget about making him walk her dog.”

“He’s here to buy The Sea Urchin and will only be in town for a few days. Not even long enough for a summer fling, if I were into that kind of thing. Which I most assuredly am not. It happened just as I told you. I was jogging past his house and he was outside and offered to take Conan for his jog. Since you know I’m not excessively fond of that particular activity myself, I decided I would be stupid to refuse.”

“Too bad.” Lindsey grinned. “I like my version better. For a man like that, I might reconsider my strict hands-off policy toward tourists.”

“He’s too old for you.”

“Mr. Delarosa in his Speedo is too old. Eben Spencer? Not even close.”

To her relief, Sage was spared having to continue the conversation by the arrival of the first campers.

She was showing the children how to identify the different tracks of birds in the sand—and doing her level best not to pay more than her usual attention to the front door—when it opened suddenly and a little dark-haired sprite rushed through and headed straight for her.

“Hi Sage! My dad says he went running with Conan this morning while I was still sleeping.”

Her skin suddenly itchy and tight, she drew in a breath and lifted her gaze to find Eben standing a short distance away watching her out those glittering green eyes.

She couldn’t read anything at all in his expression— regret, renewed heat, even mild interest.

Fine. She could pretend nothing happened, too. “True enough,” she answered Chloe.

“Why didn’t anybody wake me up?” she pouted. “I would have gone jogging, too!”

“Conan has pretty long legs, honey. It’s hard for me to keep up with him sometimes.”

“I’m a slow runner,” Chloe said glumly, then her face lit up. “I could ride a bike, though. I do that sometimes back home. I ride my bike and my dad has to run to catch up with me.”

Sage couldn’t help giving Eben a quick look, endeared despite herself at the image of Eben jogging while his daughter rode her bike alongside.

It seemed incongruous with everything else she had discerned about the man—but she supposed one brief kiss didn’t automatically make her an expert.

“If I can find a bike, can I go with you next time?”

“I don’t know if there will be a next time,” she pointed out. “You’re leaving in a few days.”

That apparently was the wrong thing to say. Chloe’s bottom lip jutted out and her green eyes looked as wounded as if Sage had just kicked her in the shins.

“I don’t want to go. I like it here. I like you and I like your dog and I like finding sand dollars.”

Sage gave her a little hug. “It’s fun going on vacation and meeting new people, isn’t it? When you came in, did you notice that Lindsey has some sea glass in a jar? Whoever guesses how many pieces are inside gets a prize.”

Distracted for the moment, Chloe’s truculence faded. “Really? What kind of prize?”

“A toy stuffed sea otter. It’s really cool.”

“I bet I can win it! I’m really good at guessing stuff.” Chloe rushed away, leaving Eben and Sage alone.

She was intensely aware of him, the smell of expensive cologne that clung to his skin, his tailored blue shirt, the crisp folds in his silk power tie.

His business attire ought to be a major turn-off for her. It should have reminded her just how very far apart they were.

She had always thought she preferred someone like Will, who wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. But she couldn’t seem to control the wild impulse to loosen that tie a little, to spread her hands over the strong muscles beneath the expensive tailoring.

She cleared her throat and forced herself to meet his still-veiled gaze. “Chloe should have a great day today. We have lots of fun things planned for the children.”

“Great. I know she’s excited—more excited than she’s been about anything in a long time.”

“That’s what we like to hear.”

“Okay, then. I guess I’ll see you later.”

He turned away and headed out the door. Sage watched him for only a moment—but even that was too long and too revealing, apparently. When she turned back to her campers she found her assistant director watching her with a knowing look.

“You know, it’s really too bad you’re not the kind of woman who would consider a summer fling,” Lindsey murmured as Eben closed the door behind him.

Wasn’t it? Sage thought, but she quickly turned her attention to the children.

* * *

He was dead meat.

Roast him, fry him, stick him on a spit. Sage Benedetto was going to kill him.

With one eye on the digital clock on the dashboard, Eben accelerated to pass a slow-moving minivan towing a pop-up trailer. He was supposed to have been at the nature center to pick up Chloe twenty minutes ago and he was still an hour away from Cannon Beach.

Sage might have disliked him before—their disturbing, heated morning kiss notwithstanding—but her mild antipathy was going to move into the territory of loathing if he didn’t reach her soon to explain.

He was beyond tardy, approaching catastrophically, negligently late.

He steered the Jag off the highway and dialed the center’s number again, as he had done a half-dozen times since the moment he had emerged late from meeting with his team of Portland attorneys.

He’d gotten a busy signal for the last half-hour, but this time to his relief the phone rang four times before someone picked up. He recognized Sage’s low, sexy voice the moment she said hello.

“Hello. Eben Spencer here,” he said, feeling far more awkward and uncomfortable than he was accustomed to.

Somehow she seemed to bring out the worst in him and he didn’t like it at all.

“I’ve, uh, got a slight problem.”

“Oh?”

“I’m afraid I’m just leaving Portland. I had a meeting that ran long and, to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t paying attention to the time. I’m hurrying as fast as I can, but I won’t be there for another hour, even if the traffic cooperates. I’m very sorry.”

He heard a slight pause on the line and could almost hear her thinking what a terrible father he was. Right now, he couldn’t say he disagreed.

“No problem,” she finally said. “I’ll just take her to Brambleberry House with me. Conan will be over the moon to see her again.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask. I offered. And anyway, I certainly can’t leave her here by herself. I could take her to your beach house but I wouldn’t feel right about leaving her alone there either. I don’t mind taking her home with me. Like I said, Conan will love the company.”

“In that case, thank you.” He had to struggle not to grovel with gratitude.

Until this week when he’d been forced by circumstance to bring Chloe along, he wasn’t sure he had fully comprehended how much he relied on nannies to take care of details like making sure Chloe was picked up on time. It was all a hell of a lot harder on his own.

He always considered himself a pretty good employer but he was definitely going to make sure he paid the next nanny more.

“You live in the big yellow Victorian down the beach, right?”

“Right. It’s got a wrought-iron fence and a sign above the porch that says Brambleberry House.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He paused. “Thank you again. I owe you.”

“No problem. You can pay me back by taking Conan for another run in the morning.”

Her words conjured up that kiss again, Sage all sleepy and warm and desirable in his arms, and his stomach muscles tightened.

“That’s not much of a punishment. I enjoyed it more than he did,” he said, his voice suddenly rough. He had to hope his sudden hunger didn’t carry through the phone line. “I’ll be glad for the chance to do it again.”

“Don’t speak too quickly. The weather forecast calls for a big storm the rest of tonight and in the morning. You’ll be soaked before you even make it out the front door. I, on the other hand, will be warm and dry and cozy in my bed.”

He didn’t even want to go there. “I still think I’ll be getting the better end of the stick, but you’ve got a deal.”

“We’ll see you in a while, then. And Eben, you really don’t have to rush. Chloe will be fine.”

He severed the connection and sat for a moment in the car, surrounded by lush green foliage in every direction.

He shouldn’t be filled with anticipation at seeing her again. He couldn’t afford the distraction—and even if he could, he shouldn’t want so much to be distracted by her.

What was the point, really? He wasn’t interested in anything short-term. How could he even think about it, with his eight-year-old daughter around? And he certainly wasn’t looking for any kind of longer commitment or if he were, it would never be with a wild, free-spirited woman like Sage.

With a sigh, he put the Jag into gear again and pulled back onto the highway. Best to just work as hard as he could to finalize the deal with the Wus so he could take Chloe back to San Francisco, back to his comfort zone where everything was safe and orderly and predictable.

The storm Sage had mentioned hit just as he reached the outskirts of town. The lights of Brambleberry House gleamed in the pale, watery twilight, a beacon of warm welcome against the vast, dark ocean just beyond it.

The house was a bit more than she described, a rambling Queen Anne Victorian with a wide front porch, elaborate gingerbread trim and a voluptuous tangle of gardens out front. Painted a cheery yellow with multi-colored pastel accents, it looked bright and homey, the kind of place that for some reason always made him picture bread baking and the sweet, embracing scents of home.

He blinked the random image away and hurried through the rain to ring the doorbell, grateful for the wide porch that kept him mostly dry.

Despite the sign above the porch, he thought for a moment he might have come to the wrong house when a stranger answered the door. She had dark hair, solemn eyes, and an air about her of efficient competence.

Her mouth lifted in an impersonal, slightly wary smile. “Yes?”

“Hello. I was certain I was in the right place but now I’m beginning to doubt myself. This is Brambleberry House, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” She still kept the door only slightly ajar— probably a smart self-defense move so she could slam it quickly shut if he should try anything threatening.

“I’m Eben Spencer. I believe Sage Benedetto is expecting me.”

She seemed to relax a little and the door opened wider, letting out a bigger slice of light and warmth to fight back the rainy evening. “You must be Chloe’s father.”

He held out a hand and she took it. Again, he gathered the vague impression of competence, though he wasn’t sure what about her spoke so solidly of it.

“I’m Anna Galvez. I live on this floor and Sage is upstairs, all the way at the top.”

“Which means you probably get roped into answering the door for her more often than you’d like.”

Her smile warmed. “I don’t mind, usually, unless I’m in the middle of something. Sage has a separate doorbell to her apartment but it hasn’t been working for awhile. We’re working on it. Sage’s apartment is all the way to the top of the staircase.”

The wide, sweeping staircase was the center core of the magnificent house, he saw, rising straight up from the entry through two other floors. A shame the house had been split into apartments, he thought. It would have made a stunning bed and breakfast, though he supposed it could be converted back if someone had the money, time and energy.

“Thank you,” he said to Anna. “Sorry to bother you.”

“Not a problem.”

He followed the curve of stairs, his hand on the mahogany rail that had been worn smooth over generations.

Outside the door at the top, he heard laughter, then a dog’s loud barking. He picked up Chloe’s voice, then Sage’s. The sound of it, rich and full and sexy, strummed down his spine.

He knocked and the dog’s barking increased. He heard Sage order the dog to be stay and be quiet. It seemed to work—when she opened the door, Conan was sitting perfectly still beside the door, though he was practically vibrating with impatience.

Sage had changed yet again—the third outfit he’d seen her in that day. Instead of her jogging clothes or the conservative navy knit shirt and khaki slacks she wore to work, she wore a flowery tunic-style blouse in some kind of sheer material over a pale pink tank top, dangly earrings and a pair of faded jeans.

She looked heart-stoppingly gorgeous, lush and appealing, and he couldn’t seem to focus on anything but their kiss that morning.

He knew he didn’t mistake the memory of it flaring in her dark eyes. Her mouth parted slightly and beneath the memory was a faint sheen of trepidation.

Did she think he was going to grab her right here in front of her dog and his daughter for a repeat performance?

“You made good time from Portland.” In seconds, she shunted away the brief flicker of remembered heat from her gaze and became as coolly polite as her downstairs neighbor.

“I was afraid you’d be ready to string me up if I didn’t hurry.”

“I told you not to worry about it. Chloe’s a joy.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, not used to hearing such praise of his daughter. Before he could respond, Chloe rushed to him.

“Hi Daddy! I had a super day today. We learned about the different habitats in the ocean at camp and then when we came here, we went outside on the beach and played catch with Conan and then we made lasagna with zucchini and carrots! It’s almost ready. Sage says I can stay and have some. Can I, Daddy?”

He glanced at Sage and saw her mouth tighten slightly. He was quite certain the invitation would never have been extended if she had expected him to be here before the meal was ready.

But how could he disappoint Chloe by telling her they needed to go, that they had already imposed on Sage enough for the day?

Sage must have sensed his indecision. She smiled brightly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re certainly both welcome to stay. There’s plenty for everyone and Chloe did work hard to help me fix it. It’s only fair she get to enjoy the fruits of her labor.”

“Did we put fruit in there too?” Chloe asked, a baffled expression on her face. “I thought it was just vegetables.”

“Well, remember, technically tomatoes are a fruit. So I guess that counts. Seriously, you’re both welcome to stay.”

Though he knew it was a mistake to spend more time with Sage, he couldn’t figure out any way out without hurting Chloe.

“All right. Thank you.”

He was quite certain he was the one with trepidation in his eyes now as he stepped into her apartment. Only after he crossed the threshold did Conan hurry to him for attention and Eben could swear the dog looked pleased.

Chapter 6

Sage had always considered her apartment to be a perfect size, roomy without being huge. The rooms were all comfortably laid out and she loved having an extra bedroom in case any friends from college came to stay. It had always seemed just right for her.

How was it that Eben Spencer seemed to fill up every available inch?

His presence was overwhelming. He wore the same pale blue dress shirt he’d had on that morning, though his tie was off and his sleeves were rolled up. Afternoon stubble shadowed his jawline, giving him a slightly disreputable look she guessed he would probably find appalling if he were aware of it.

He looked so damn gorgeous, it was infuriating.

She shouldn’t even be noticing how he looked, not after she had spent all day sternly reminding herself they had nothing in common, no possible reason for this unwanted attraction that simmered between them.

He represented wealth and privilege and all the things she had turned her back on after a lifetime of struggling—and failing—to find her place there. He was no doubt just like her father, obsessed with making and keeping his money.

Good grief, the cost of his tailored shirt alone could probably feed a family of four for a month.

She didn’t like him, she told herself. While her brain might be certain of that, the rest of her was having a tougher time listening to reason when she just wanted to curl against his strength and heat like Conan finding a sunbeam shooting through the window.

She sighed and pulled her lasagna out, attributing her flushed and tight skin to the heat pouring from the oven.

“Can I help with anything?” he asked, standing in the doorway.

Yeah. Go away.

She forced herself to stuff the thought back into the recesses of her mind. She was a strong, independent woman. Surely she was tough enough to endure an hour or so with the man.

“Everything’s just about ready. Chloe and I were finishing things up in here when you arrived. Would the two of you mind setting the table?”

She regretted the question as soon as she asked it. Eben Spencer probably had a legion of servants to do that sort of grunt work at his house. To her surprise, he didn’t hesitate.

“No problem. Come on, Chloe.”

Through the doorway beyond him, Sage saw Chloe get up from the floor where she had been playing with Conan. She and the dog both tromped into the kitchen, making Sage even more claustrophobic.

“You’ll have to point me in the right direction for plates and silverware,” Eben said.

“I’ll grab them for you.”

She pulled out her favorite square chargers—she’d bought them from a ceramics studio in Manzanita, attracted by their wild, abstract designs—and the contrasting plates she always used with them, then held them out for Eben to take.

Their hands connected when he reached for them and a spark jumped between them.

Sage flushed. “Sorry. It’s the, uh, hardwood floors. Makes electricity jump in the air, especially when there are a lot of negative ions flying around from the storm.”

She was babbling, she realized, and forced herself to clamp her lips shut. She didn’t miss the long, considering look Eben gave her.

“Oh, is that what it’s from?” he murmured.

Before she could formulate what would no doubt be a sharp retort, he grabbed the plates and carried them out of the kitchen. Only after he left did she release the breath she suddenly realized she was holding.

“Silverware is in the top drawer to the left of the dishwasher,” she told Chloe. “Glasses are in the overhead cupboard.”

She didn’t have the luxury of a dining room in her apartment, but she had commandeered a corner of the good-sized living room for the table Will Garrett had made her.

The chairs were a mismatched jumble picked up here and there at thrift stores and yard sales, but she coordinated them with cushions in vivid colors to match the placemats and chargers.

She always thought the effect was charming but she imagined to someone of Eben Spencer’s sophisticated tastes, her house probably reeked of a lousy attempt at garage-sale chic.

She didn’t care, she told herself.

It was a waste of time even worrying about what he might think of her and her apartment. In a week, Eben and Chloe Spencer would just be a memory, simply two more in a long line of transitory visitors to her corner of the world.

The thought left her vaguely depressed so she pushed it away and pulled the salad she and Chloe had tossed earlier out of the refrigerator. After a few more moments of them working together, the meal was laid out on the table.

“Everything looks delicious,” Eben said, taking the seat across from her.

“Sage is a vegetarian, Daddy,” Chloe announced with fascinated eagerness.

“Is that right?”

“Not militant, I promise,” she answered. “Steak lovers are usually still welcome at my table.”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “Good thing. I do enjoy a good porterhouse, I’m sorry to say.”

“You can enjoy it all you want somewhere else, but I’m afraid you won’t find any steaks here tonight.”

“I can be surprisingly adaptable.” Again that half smile lifted his features, made him seem much less formidable. Her insides trembled but she stubbornly ignored them, serving the lasagna instead.

They were all quiet for a few moments as they dished breadsticks and salad.

Sage braced herself for a negative reaction to her favorite lasagna dish. She wasn’t the greatest of cooks but after choosing a vegetarian lifestyle in college, she had worked hard to find dishes she found good, nutritious and filling.

But her tastes were likely far different than Eben’s. He probably had at least one Cordon Bleu-trained personal chef to go along with the legion of servants she’d imagined for him.

To her relief and gratification, he closed his eyes in appreciation after the first taste. “Delicious. My compliments to the chefs.”

Chloe giggled. “There weren’t any chefs, Daddy. Just Sage and me.”

“You two have outdone yourselves.”

“It’s super good, Sage,” Chloe agreed. “I wasn’t sure I’d like it but I can’t even taste the carrots and stuff.”

Sage smiled, charmed all over again by this little girl with the inquisitive mind and boundless energy.

“Thank you both. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

“Maybe you could give me the recipe and I could make it sometime at home, if the new nanny helps me,” Chloe suggested. “I like to cook stuff sometimes, when I have a chance.”

“I’ll do that. Remind me before you leave and I’ll make a copy of the recipe for you.”

“Thank you very much,” Chloe said, with a solemn formality that made Sage smile again. She shifted her gaze from the girl to her father and immediately wished she hadn’t.

Eben watched her, an odd expression in those brilliant green eyes. It left her breathless and off balance. He quickly veiled it in that stiff, controlled way of his she was coming to despise.

“This is a beautiful house,” he said into the sudden silence. “Have you lived here long?”

“Five years or so—I moved in a few weeks after I came to Cannon Beach.”

“You’re not from here? I wondered. You have a slight northeast accent every once in a while, barely noticeable.”

Her mouth tightened as if she could clamp down all trace of the past she didn’t like remembering. “Boston,” she finally said.

“That’s what I would have guessed. So what brought you to Oregon?”

“When I graduated from Berkeley, I took an internship at the nature center. I spent the first few weeks in town renting a terrible studio apartment a few blocks from here. It was all I could afford on an intern’s salary, which was nothing.”

“You worked for free?” Chloe asked and Sage had to smile a little at the shock in her voice.

“I was fresh out of college and ready to see the world, try anything. But I did hate living in that terrible apartment.”