She rose and began to pace as she pondered that question—and tried to come up with an action plan.
Strange how she’d been so definitive in the business world but couldn’t decide what to do about Frank.
Best strategy?
Do what she’d done during her executive career while dealing with an especially thorny dilemma.
Give it a few days. Sleep on it. Let the pros and cons percolate in her mind.
And hope an answer came to her before she wore out her welcome with Zach and had to return to New York, leaving Hope Harbor—and Frank—behind.
Perfect.
Katherine gave a satisfied nod as she examined the tray of blackberry truffles. This batch was even more professional-looking than the first. And now that FedEx had delivered her candy molds, she could begin experimenting with the recipe she’d found for caramel-filled sea salt chocolates.
She assembled her ingredients and equipment, but just as she was preparing to dive in, the doorbell rang.
Could it be Charley again, stopping by on his way home with another taco delivery?
Not likely at three thirty on a Friday afternoon. Too late for lunch, too early for dinner.
Besides, on his last visit he’d announced his arrival with a knock, not by pressing the doorbell.
And it wouldn’t be Zach—much as that possibility appealed to her after their cozy tête-à-tête at the coffee shop yesterday. The back door was more his style.
She snagged a dish towel and wiped her hands as the bell rang again.
Probably another FedEx delivery with more of her favorite West African chocolate.
But when she peeked through the peephole, her lungs locked.
Simon was here?
Good heavens.
What on earth could have compelled him to leave his LA comfort zone behind and venture into the wilds of Oregon?
She unlocked the door and pulled it open. “Why are you here?”
“Hello to you too.” He pressed the lock on the key fob for his rental car and brushed past her into the house, irritation buzzing in his wake.
Crud.
This was not going to be jolly.
Katherine didn’t hurry as she closed the door, locked it, followed him into the great room—and repeated her question. “Why are you here?”
“So this is where you’ve holed up.” He surveyed the surroundings with disdain, stopping short of a snooty sniff—and ignored her query.
“I don’t think you came up here to evaluate my accommodations.” She wadded the dish towel into a ball.
“No. I didn’t. You have anything to drink?”
“If you mean alcohol, no. I can offer you soda, water, orange juice, or milk.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Is the water bottled?”
“If that’s what you want—but the tap water is fine.”
“I’ll take the bottled.”
He followed her to the kitchen like a cougar stalking its victim.
“I asked for space, Simon.” She pulled a bottle out of the fridge and set it on the island between them with more force than necessary. “For the third time—why are you here?”
He uncapped the water and inspected the tray of candy. “Is that how you’ve been spending your days?”
“Making candy relaxes me.”
“So you’ve told me.” He took a swig of water and sniffed. “Do you have the air-conditioning on?”
“No. The sliding door to the great room is open to catch the breeze off the ocean.”
“My allergies are kicking in.”
Good. Maybe he’d leave fast.
She squared her shoulders and held her ground. “I don’t expect you’ll be here long enough for that to matter.”
“Boy, are you in a bad mood.”
“I was in a fine mood until you showed up.”
“You’re my client. We’re supposed to stay in touch—and you don’t return my calls.”
“I asked you to respect my request for a break. Instead, you phone constantly. Now you show up at my door.”
“We have a major deal on the table we didn’t have when you left. That changes the rules.”
“You said you bought me a month to think about it.”
“I did.” He flicked a glance at the truffles. “But instead of focusing on a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, you’re playing with chocolate.”
“My brain can think while my hands work—and barging in here to remind me how important this decision is wasn’t necessary.”
“I disagree. This is an isolated spot, removed from the reality—and urgency—of LA. I didn’t want you to let this chance slip through your fingers without having a face-to-face discussion. Can we sit somewhere?”
In other words, he wasn’t leaving until he said his piece.
Fine.
She’d listen to his spiel. Let him rant and rave. Promise to take everything he said under advisement.
But she wasn’t committing to anything today, if that’s what he was after.
And if he’d left his glitzy world behind to brave a trip into the hinterland, that had to be his goal.
He was right about one thing, though. Being away from LA for two-plus weeks had diminished her sense of urgency—along with the pressure and stress that had been part of her life for the past several years—and the break was giving her a fresh perspective. Talking to Charley again, her interactions with Zach and the background he’d shared yesterday in the coffee shop, the peaceful ambiance of Hope Harbor—all of that was helping her grapple with the choices confronting her.
Truth be told, this tiny town on the Oregon coast was beginning to feel more grounded in reality than the world she’d left behind. And one of these days, all of her conflicting thoughts would coalesce. The road ahead would be clear.
Today, however, wasn’t that day.
She followed Simon into the great room, claimed a seat near the sliding door—leaving him no choice but to do the same, despite his theatrical sniffling—and braced for one of his rants.
But no matter how hard he pushed, she wasn’t going back with him to LA.
Who was talking to Kat?
Truffle plate in one hand, Charley’s packet of change in the other, Zach halted a few yards from her deck as voices drifted out the open sliding door. One was Kat’s. The man’s was unfamiliar.
“Having a part like this under your belt will give you leverage, Katherine.”
“Spoken like the agent you are.”
“I’m speaking for both of us. This is what you’ve been working toward. You’ve told me yourself you’ve always wanted to be a star. You’re solid with the TV series, but the leap from small screen to big is huge.”
“I’ve already made the leap.”
“Not in a leading role. There’s nothing wrong with the supporting parts I’ve lined up for you, but this could help you get past the scandal and make Katherine Parker a household name.”
Brain firing on all cylinders, Zach backed away. Listening to a private conversation was wrong.
But in that handful of sentences he’d learned more about his neighbor than he had since the day he’d spotted her in the coffee shop.
Her name, her profession, the decision she was wrestling with—and hints at a skeleton in her closet.