The Tycoon's Perfect Match (3 page)

S
herwood Lodge was as beautiful as Mari remembered. The wide mahogany floors gleamed in the late-afternoon sun, and she could see the deep, blue, spring-fed lake through the arched, beveled windows.

There was natural, beaded fir on the cathedral ceiling, accented by arched cherry trusses. This style carried through in the six bedrooms throughout the house: one on the first floor, four on the second floor and one on the third. Each bedroom either had its own screened porch or an arched, open porch.

The nearest neighbors were five hundred yards away in each direction. She'd have more than enough privacy.

Mari ran up the stairs to the turret, which had been her favorite room growing up. On rainy days, she played dolls and pretended that she was a princess in a castle, waiting for her Prince Charming—who looked remarkably like Brian Hawkins. Or she'd read a book, or write in her diary. Many times, she'd sit on the window seat and watch for someone to come over and ask her to play.

Every summer, her parents came to Sherwood Lodge for a month. Her mother and father still talked about work, and were constantly on the phone to the office, but the three of them would still find time to picnic outside and swim together. When she was younger they'd hold her hand and go for walks.

But after the month was over, her parents would return to Boston, and Grandma Rose would come and stay with her for the rest of the summer at Sherwood Lodge.

But things changed during the week of her sixteenth birthday when her father announced that they wouldn't be coming back to Hawk's Lake anymore. He'd said that he was selling Sherwood Lodge to the Hawkins family.

Mari's world came crashing down, and she'd been inconsolable. She'd barely left the turret room, and wrote endlessly in her tearstained diary. She'd constantly asked her parents why they had to sell, even begged them not to, but they held steadfast to their decision.

She remembered her father's words. “We don't really need Sherwood Lodge, Marigold. We just don't have the time to spend here. It's a simple business decision. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices.”

A business decision? Her cottage wasn't a business. It was home. She wasn't alone at the lodge all the time, like she was in Boston. She was part of a family. She had parents who paid attention to her for once. Well, anyway, way more than usual.

The truth was, they'd rather work than be with her.

Because it hurt too much over the years, Mari hadn't responded to any of Melanie Hawkins's attempts to keep in touch. She and Jack hadn't really been that close, so she really didn't expect him to contact her.

But Brian was another story. He'd been her pal, then her first crush. Brian was the first boy she'd kissed. And her young heart had shattered into a million pieces when he never even said goodbye.

As time passed, the more strange it seemed to reestablish contact with any of the Hawkins kids—especially Brian—so she'd never bothered.

Looking down, she saw Brian leaning against his sporty convertible, waiting for her. He was still so handsome that she almost forgot to breathe when she looked at him.

She remembered how they used to hang out by the lake and dive off the dock. Even now, she could imagine Brian stretched out on the small piers, his sculpted body all wet and glistening in the sun….

What was she doing? This sabbatical was supposed to be about her, not a one-time crush. Touching her bare ring finger, she encouraged herself to remember that.

It wasn't about Jason Fox, either. He'd loved her—or so he said—but had only used her to get a vice president position at Sherwood. She'd given him the job, all right, then suddenly he started keeping his distance. She'd just been a tool to obtain what he wanted. How foolish she'd been to think a man would want her for herself.

She had to stick to her decision to stay away from men. Including sexy Brian Hawkins.

It was nice of him to be concerned about her staying alone, but she wasn't worried. Even though
she was away from the main village and would be alone at the lake for another month or so, Hawk's Lake seemed like a place where people still didn't lock their doors.

But she'd still lock up. And not just her door—her heart was off-limits, too.

She couldn't wait to make pottery again, couldn't wait to feel the wet clay under her hands as it spun on her wheel. She wanted to take long walks in the fresh air, and watch the sun set on the lake every evening and rise every morning. And she'd enjoy biking to the village when the spirit moved her. Above all, she wanted to find
herself
again.

Brian would just be a distraction—one she couldn't afford.

 

Mari walked toward Brian with a happy grin, looking much more cheerful than when he'd first seen her at his real-estate office.

“Is Sherwood Lodge how you remembered it?” he asked.

“Everything is even
better
than I remembered it.”

“Good.”

She snapped her fingers. “The porch off the kitchen is a perfect place to put my wheel. I can put my kiln in the boathouse. Is there 220 power in there?”

Brian crossed his arms. “Yes.”

“Don't worry,” Mari added quickly. “I brought heavy plastic and a rug with a rubber backing. I won't harm a plank on the porch. And I won't burn down the boathouse.”

He knew he should relax, but he was very protective of his properties. “I know you'll take care of the place as if it were your own.”

She glanced back at the house. “I wish it still was.”

He could kick himself for reminding her that the Sherwoods didn't own Sherwood Lodge anymore. “I'm sorry, Mari. That was stupid. I didn't mean to insinuate that—”

“Oh, I know.” She waved her hand in dismissal. “Don't give it another thought. But I don't want to keep you, Brian. I know you have other things to do.” Mari stifled a yawn. “I'm suddenly tired. Must be the fresh air. I could use a nap.” She winced. “Oh, no. I forgot to bring linens.”

“No problem.” He went into his trunk and pulled out two plastic bags that contained two pillows, a set of queen sheets and some towels, and handed them to her. “I'm always prepared for any contingency.”

“You always were. Must be the Eagle Scout in you.”

He slammed the trunk shut and walked to the driver's side of his car. “What about food? Are you hungry?”

“Famished.” She rubbed her forehead. “Oh, no. I was so eager to get here, I can't believe I forgot to pick up groceries, too. But I packed enough clothes for a year's stay.”

Mari seemed much more relaxed. At least they were talking freely and joking a bit. He knew they hadn't parted on very good terms, but that was long ago, and he hoped that she didn't still hold that against him. He'd been young and confused about his feelings for her.

The only thing that he hadn't been confused about was his plan—a carefully laid-out plan for his future. A plan that included him taking the business world by storm. And that plan hadn't included Mari.

But in retrospect, yes, he'd been an idiot.

“Don't worry about food, Mari. The Eagle Scout comes through again. I stocked the fridge. I got you some basics, along with hot dogs and hamburgers and some frozen pizzas. It should last you a few days until you go shopping.”

“Coffee?”

He nodded. “And a bottle of wine.”

“You're an angel, Brian.”

“Aww…thanks. But that's not what the other girls say.”

“So then, you're a devil?”

He winked. “That's for me to know and you to find out.”

“You are
so
thirteen years old.” She rolled her eyes.

He could have stayed there all night, teasing and talking to her, but he could take a hint. Instead, he gave her a salute, climbed into his car and drove off with a friendly wave.

He'd be back tomorrow to check on her.

 

After Brian left, Mari was struck by the silence.

There weren't any sounds of horns blaring or construction noises. There weren't any traffic jams or people yelling, no phones ringing or faxes buzzing. There was only the gentle lapping of Hawk's Lake as it kissed the shore.

She opened the van doors and put the bags of linens in the front seat. She'd unload them later. Then she pulled out a folding lounge chair and carried it to the sandy beach at the edge of the lawn, unfolded it, got in and stretched out. As she watched the sun sparkle on the lake, she could hear the distant sound of a loon calling. Then she studied the
intricate patterns on the double wings of a dragonfly that had landed on her sleeve.

When a dragonfly landed on you, it was supposed to bring good luck. She could use some good luck.

Pulling her jacket on as the cool evening air rolled in, she watched the sun set in a blaze of red and gold, and then decided that she needed to unload some clothes from the van. After making several trips, she was done, and it was dark out. Very dark.

Her stomach growled, so she found some hot dogs in the refrigerator and put them in the microwave. How nice of Brian to stock the fridge for her. He'd always been sweet and thoughtful.

No. Not
always.
On her last day at Sherwood Lodge, he had hurt her to the bone.

After she ate, she grabbed a suitcase and the bags of linens that Brian had given her and climbed the stairs to her old room. Pausing at the doorway, she flicked on the light and looked around.

The windows overlooked the lake on three sides. On the right wall, there was a little screened-in porch that faced the side yard and the boathouse. She used to watch for the Hawkins kids from that window, hoping that they would ask her to come out and play.

On rainy days, she'd read a book or write in her
diary. Some nights, she'd fall asleep on the small chintz-covered couch as the gentle waves lulled her to sleep.

Mari set everything she was carrying onto the hardwood floor and walked over to the bed—her old brass bed! She ran her hand over the cool metal headboard that was decorated with sunflowers.

She remembered snuggling under the covers and listening to the murmur of her parents' voices on the porch below her.

With both of her parents downstairs, Mari felt safe and secure and totally happy. This cottage was the only place that had ever really felt like home.

Mari made up the bed, then undressed and slipped into a T-shirt and flannel pants. By the time she finished, a brisk wind was rattling the window frames. Soon, a hard rain began to pummel the roof and windows. A loud banging noise startled her, and she jumped. Over her pounding heart, she realized that it was just a loose shutter slamming against the outside of the cottage.

She slipped into bed and snuggled under a colorful, striped Hudson's Bay blanket and a fluffy beige comforter that she'd found in the hallway closet. The shutter banged again.

It was going to be a long night.

 

Midmorning, Brian turned down the dirt road that led to Sherwood Lodge and slowed down to dodge the puddles and potholes that had filled with water from last night's storm.

He was looking forward to seeing Mari again. It had been a long time since a woman had interested him and tweaked his curiosity, and Mari did both. Something had been missing in all the women he'd dated—something that he couldn't identify.

As a result of seeing Mari after twelve years, how beautiful and poised she'd become, he couldn't sleep last night. It was like he'd been sucker punched.

But when he thought about what she represented, that made him think about his life, and all that he'd missed. He was haunted by the realization that all his aspirations never materialized.

Was it too late for him to give his dream career another shot?

He certainly didn't begrudge Mari the success she'd achieved. Sherwood Enterprises was her family's business, just like Hawkins's Garage was his. But that was like comparing watermelons to grapes. Sure, the garage was internationally acclaimed for Mel's antique-car restoration work, and Jack's custom-built stock cars were in high demand in
North America and in Europe, but still, Sherwood Enterprises was huge—an international conglomerate.

Brian swung into the parking area near the boathouse and climbed the side stairs that led to the sunporch. He was just about to knock when Mari opened the door and jumped.

“Oh! Brian, you scared me. I didn't hear you pull up.”

She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a gray Harvard sweatshirt, her hair tied back in a ponytail. She looked tired—but beautiful—and eager to start a new day. She had a book and a mug in her hands.

“I was going to go outside and read a little.” She eyed his suit and tie. “Are you working today? Isn't it Saturday?”

He nodded. “I had an appointment with a man who is being audited by the IRS on Monday. He and his lawyer wanted my opinion.”