The Billioniare's Bought Bride (Contemporary Romance) (3 page)

Cindy was Aunt Gail’s housekeeper and constant source of lake news. “He’s already here. I ran into him in town,” Maddy admitted.

“He must have come up from Chicago this morning as I haven’t seen any movement over there yet.”

“Maybe.”

Unlike the rest of the Johanssons, Aunt Gail always had a soft spot for Dylan. “I’ve been wondering when he’d arrive. This is his first house on this lake.”

“You know he only bought North Star Island because Grandfather wanted the access strip. Dylan overpaid for it.”

All lake islands were required to have some sort of shore access. The North Star Island access lot was a half-acre sliver between Summerhaven and the wildlife refuge. When North Star Island and its shoreline sliver had come onto the market, Dylan had outbid her grandfather. The access strip had been the one piece of land her grandfather had really wanted, the last piece of his
property
puzzle, and he’d died a week after being
outbid.

“Dylan’s company sent me a purchase proposal for Summerhaven. Not that I’d sell to him. He’s a butcher. He’s destroyed the other lakes.”

“I wouldn’t know about that. But I’m sure he doesn’t want to see five-story condos on Summerhaven. The view from his front door would be ruined.”

“Maybe he wants that. Who knows?”

“You should find out. I might not have been a businesswoman, but Stephen taught me one thing. Always deal directly with the top. If you have to sell, make Dylan give you legal concessions that will preserve this place. If he wants it badly enough, he’ll give you what you want.”

Somehow Maddy doubted she’d get any concessions from Dylan Blackwater. “He’ll probably just wait to buy it at tax auction.”

“Too risky. He’ll be up against other bidders.”

“But I don’t want to sell at all. There has to be another way to save Summerhaven,” Maddy insisted, although deep down, she knew her aunt was probably right. No matter how futile her efforts, she had to try. She should deal with the top. She stared out the window at the dark lake. Approaching Dylan would be walking into a minefield. Today one glance had exposed emotions best buried. He was like a flame, and she the moth. The perfect example was in front of her—drawn by the lights inside the cottage, the picture windows had already become a magnet for a host of flying nocturnal insects. It never worked out well for the moths. They beat their wings in absolute futility.

“Well, if there’s an answer I know you’ll find it.” Aunt Gail reached for her Bible and withdrew a feather. “Guess what I found? An aerie with two eaglets. We haven’t had eagles nesting on the lake for ten years. And don’t lecture me. I know it’s illegal to possess
these. But at my age, one contraband feather won’t hurt.”

The last time Maddy had seen eagles had been during her long walks with Dylan, that summer when it seemed nothing could ever go wrong. If there were eagles nesting, well, that was another good reason for the land to remained undeveloped.

“I saw one fishing yesterday,” Aunt Gail continued, “and tracked it back to its nest on the Lawless acres by the cove. Anyway, it’s late. Go home. Get some rest. Take one of my extra flashlights and think about my suggestion of dealing directly with the boss. Don’t let Ted or Stephen’s actions guide you. It was shameful how they treated Dylan. He was always such a nice boy. Surely he hasn’t changed that much.”

Oh, but he had changed, Maddy thought as she readied to leave. He’d hardened around the edges, changed into a man who was worldly-wise, fully experienced. She was backwoods and sheltered compared to him. He was a man who aroused womanly feelings of passion, emotions Maddy shouldn’t be having for a man who’d caused her grandfather so much pain and grief. She concentrated on avoiding snakes as she walked home.

The next day dawned clear and bright, a laughing mockery to the growing futility invading Maddy as another day ticked closer to the July 31 deadline. She’d tossed and turned, getting little sleep. Negotiating directly with Dylan was a step she had to take. He couldn’t humiliate her any more than anyone else had yesterday.

Determination etched her clenched jaw as she focused the ancient binoculars across the smooth lake, angling past the twenty-by-seventy-five-foot slip of land known as Pickle Island and toward the one-acre island called North Star.

Beyond North Star was Pershall, the biggest island in the lake. It was so large that it effectively divided Knollwood Lake in half, and contained a main house that had been
built in 1915. Now the house and cabins the late Mr. Pershall had built were a popular summer resort. Summerhaven was from that lumber baron era, only it had been built later, in the mid-1920s. Her family had owned it since the early 1940s.

Maddy swung the binoculars back around. Unlike yesterday morning, now there was a twenty-foot runabout moored at the North Star dock, which meant Dylan was still at home.

Before she lost her nerve, she set the binoculars on the rotting wood dock and stepped gingerly into the stern of the wobbly metal canoe she’d pulled from the rundown boathouse. The motorboats once commonly found anchored at Summerhaven had long ago been sold, and this was the only remaining water transport. 

She brushed the cobwebs from the rickety steel interior. The exterior was deceptively lettered Tippecanoe, although the painted glory proclaiming it humorously such had
long ago
faded. A light coat of mold and mildew covered the life preserver resting at her feet, but the wooden paddle fit securely in her hand. The early morning lake reflected like glass, making the water easy to cross.

With smooth, sure strokes, she paddled towards North Star. Occasionally a fish jumped, forming an outward ripple effect that disturbed the mirror-like surface, and a several times Madison heard the distinct call of loons. She’d traveled the entire eighteen-mile lakeshore in her youth. She’d also explored both of the two smaller connector lakes at each end of Knollwood Lake.

Here in this dark-blue water she had learned to swim, making the required rite-of-passage crossing from Pickle Island to the Summerhaven. Here she’d grieved her parents’ deaths and much later her grandmother’s.

Maddy glanced over her shoulder, seeing Summerhaven rising majestically from its
perch atop the grassy slope. A stonewall separated a lakeshore terrace from the hill, and the boathouse to her left lumbered at the water’s edge.

It had always been this way, a timeless reminder of the lumber barons who had, in logging’s heyday, ruled the area and summered here instead of in steamy, crowded Chicago. If Pershall Island and its magnificent lodge was the king of the lake, then Summerhaven was queen. For a moment, Maddy let the paddle drag in the tiny wake behind the canoe.

At seven a.m. there was no sign of the eagles Aunt Gail claimed were back, but brightly colored dragonflies flitted nearby as Maddy resigned herself to her quest and made another deliberate stroke toward her destination. The closer she came to North Star, the more changes she could see. Unlike last summer, the house boasted new paint, new windows and a new roof. The lawn had been landscaped—the overgrowth pruned and tamed.

When she arrived, she rammed the front end of the canoe up onto the muddy bank, and made her way to the bow and climbed out. She hoisted the canoe so that only the stern remained in the water, and she dried her hands on her black camp shorts after satisfied the vessel was secure. She tucked in a loose edge of her black “Believe” t-shirt, worn as if the imprinted slogan would somehow give her confidence, and turned. “Oh! You startled me!”

Dylan reached out and, like yesterday, his hand steadied while at the same time stoked a dormant fire. “Sorry, I promise not to make sneaking up on you a habit.”

Which insinuated future contact. Maddy inhaled a deep breath of pine-scented air and tried to slow her rapid heartbeat. She stepped away, her body immediately noticing the loss of his touch. “It’s no big deal,” she lied.

His black eyes darkened and the lines around them crinkled as he grinned. How
she’d always liked his rakish smile when she’d been impressionable and young! Today his charisma had the same effect, but Maddy knew not to be foolish. Dylan Blackwater was pure danger, a man in total control of every lethal pore.

He chuckled—his voice rich and deep. He’d dressed in navy chino shorts and an unbuttoned red polo shirt that showcased a broad muscular chest, and unlike her, he appeared utterly at ease.

“One of the things my father taught me was walking without a sound. My mother always went to sleep very early and I wasn’t to wake her. I started coffee as soon as I realized you were headed over. Care for a cup today?”

Why not? “Yes, that would be nice.”

“Then follow me.”

Although following him along the new brick walkway meant she got an eyeful of a tight tush, muscular legs, and a firm backside. Under the polo it was obvious that well-honed muscles rippled.

An aroma of pecans greeted her as they entered the kitchen, and she sat at a new oak table. She’d never been inside the house so she had no idea the previous condition, but everything inside had been meticulously rehabbed. He filled a tin cup and the speckled blue mug warmed her hands. He placed the coffee pot on the table.

“Would you like milk or sugar?”

“Black is fine,” she said as she raised the cup to her lips. She sipped the soothing balm. “This is good.”

Awareness prickled her skin, fueled by hot coffee and Dylan’s presence. His thigh brushed against hers, soft leg hairs tickling seductively as he poured himself a cup. “I would have saved you some breakfast had I known you were visiting.”

“I decided just this morning.”

“You could have called,” he pointed out, his tone mild and amused.

She’d actually thought of that. “You’re unlisted.”

He finished pouring. “I’ll give you my cell number.”

“Some things are best handled face to face.”

He grinned and lowered his gaze to her lips. “Oh, I agree with that. Your being here is a very pleasant surprise. One I don’t mind at all.”

His gaze roved over her as if he had x-ray vision. A wave of fresh heat swept her skin as he read what it said on her shirt, meaning his entire attention was on her breasts. Perhaps she shouldn’t have worn the t-shirt. His black eyes darkened to coal.

Determined to see her mission through, she began. “I wanted to apologize for my rude behavior yesterday. I took out my pent-up aggression on you. I wasn’t raised to be petty.”

He simply watched her, his closed expression unreadable. Then he settled back, made himself comfortable. A breeze filtered in through open casement windows, the moment seeming somewhat surreal. The right corner of his mouth lifted before he spoke.

“Don’t ever be afraid to mince words around me, Maddy. I’m not one who worries about political correctness. Seeing me had the full effect I’d planned.”

“You planned this?” Her spine stiffened.

“Not this current moment, but running into you yesterday? Yes. Guilty as charged.”

He shrugged as if his actions were of little consequence. His shirt buttons weren’t fastened, allowing her a clear peek at a firm, smooth chest. His thigh brushed hers again as he reached for a napkin. He wiped his lips and her tongue slipped out and wet her own.

Why did Dylan have to physically affect her? She needed control and sanity, not a
sudden wave of unbridled lust. Perhaps she should have slept with Michael, instead of telling him she wanted to wait until after their wedding night. Then maybe she’d have a better grip on her raging hormones and he wouldn’t have sought comfort with a waitress.

Although Michael paled next to Dylan, whose jet-black hair, still damp from a shower, teased the edges of his ears. His olive skin was sun-kissed. The gods had blessed him with great genetics. She clenched the tin mug in both hands, but her precarious control slipped and some liquid sloshed over the side.

“Careful,” he warned, taking a napkin and wiping up the mess. He leaned into her space, giving her a whiff of musky aftershave. Oh Lord. She was in trouble. “So Maddy, what is it you need?”

Him
. The word burned hot in her brain and she clamped her mouth and legs shut. So much for believing she could do this. She loosened her tenacious grip on the mug and set it safely on the table.

“I...” She faltered and then her breath whooshed out in a long rush. “I wondered if I could negotiate with you directly on Summerhaven. Not with your underlings who keep hounding me constantly, but you. I want to keep my property intact. I don’t want it developed. In fact, I want to keep it. If you would lend me the money for both Summerhaven’s taxes and the half-million-dollar mortgage Ted took out, I’ll pay you back. I’ll give you a lien against the property as collateral.”

“I already own the lien.”

Her mouth dropped open into a wide O before she sputtered, “What?”

He didn’t even have the decency to appear sheepish. “The mortgage your brother took out. You know how they’re bundled and sold? Well, I bought it.”

She stared at him. “You’re serious.”

“Very much so.”

“If I don’t pay taxes by the end of July, the county gets my land Aug. 1. If I fail to refinance the mortgage by August 31 when the note is due, you’ll own Summerhaven.”