“I assume you’re here to speak to Mr. Redding?”
“Yes ma’am, I was. But it can wait. I came on impulse and didn’t even consider that I needed an appointment.” She looked down at the neat desk and wondered how to go about making an appointment. “He can call me, or I can just do it now, or—”
“Actually, he doesn’t have any appointments this morning, so this is wonderful timing. Give me just a moment, and I’ll announce you.”
Her mouth formed an ‘O,’ but no words came out as Mrs. Markham disappeared down the hall before Lizzie could change her mind. She looked around the elegant reception room, several comfortable leather chairs arranged in one corner with large potted plants decorating the space. The walls were adorned with paintings of seascapes in heavy wooden frames. As though drawn to the image of the shore, she moved closer to the wall, studying the exquisite painting of sand dunes, tufts of seagrass, gentle waves rolling in, and gulls flying overhead.
A longing deep inside squeezed around her heart. She had been born and raised a few miles from the Chesapeake Bay but had rarely visited the shore in recent years. She lifted her hand, fingers extended toward the painting, but stopped before they touched the canvas, curling inward as she placed her hand over her chest.
“Lizzie?”
Jumping, she whirled around and saw Scott standing with Mrs. Markham. Her gaze made an immediate assessment, something she seemed to always do when in his presence. And, as usual, he did not disappoint. His tall, muscular frame was covered in a tailored light-blue shirt, rose-colored tie, and dark slacks. His blue eyes held hers and she swallowed, uncertain why her mouth was suddenly dry.
An embarrassed blush flooded her face, and she babbled, “I was just admiring the painting. It’s… uh… quite lovely.” Relieved when they merely smiled, she continued, “I apologize for just dropping in. I can make an appointment—”
“Not at all.” Scott’s smile was wide. “I’m glad to see you. Please, let’s go to my office.”
With a small nod directed toward Mrs. Markham, she followed as Scott led them down the short hall. Her gaze dropped to his ass and she wondered what was wrong with her. When he reached his office, he turned and waved his hand to usher her in ahead of him. As she slid by him, she looked up, realizing this was the closest she had ever been to him. He was tall, easily a head taller than her. His jaw was square and firm, his eyes clear and warm as they held her gaze. His shoulders and chest were broad, something she was now noticing with intimate detail.
He was handsome, no doubt about it, and yet, that thought only served to make her more self-conscious. Taking a seat, she clutched her purse in her lap, glad to have something to do with her hands.
She was surprised when he did not walk around and sit behind his desk but instead settled into the chair that was angled toward her. If he did this to put her more at ease, he failed miserably. She almost snorted aloud at the thought that his close proximity seemed to be muddling her brain once again.
“Are you okay? Is everything okay with the farm?” he said, leaning forward slightly, his gaze intense.
His words moved slowly through her, the tension that had coiled inside loosening. Hurrying to assure, she said, “Yes, I’m fine. The farm is fine. Well, at least I want it to be fine. That’s why I’m here, so it can be fine.” Realizing she was babbling again, she smiled nervously. “I guess I should stop using the word fine, shouldn’t I?”
He chuckled, and it struck her that it served to ratchet up his handsomeness level. Forcing her thoughts back to why she came, she said, “I realize that I haven’t been very nice to you. I want to apologize for that.” She watched as he lifted his hand to wave away her concerns, but she rushed, “No, please, I need to say this.”
He nodded his acquiescence and leaned back in his chair, never losing hold of her gaze, giving his full attention to her.
“I… uh… I… oh, my goodness, I’m not sure what on earth I’m trying to say.”
He reached out and touched her arm gently. “Just start talking, Lizzie. Say whatever’s on your mind.”
With that encouragement, she began again. “For a while now, it was just my grandfather and me. The farm changed over the years as it was harder to get anyone who wanted to work on a farm full-time. Papa Beau turned to migrant workers, but they were not always able to be here when we needed them. I don’t blame him for selling off some of the land, especially when it became obvious that our small farm could not compete with the larger farms in raising crops.”
She dropped her chin and stared at her hands clasped together for a moment, then sighed. “I had read about other animals that we could raise and ways that we could make money with them. Papa Beau was always good to encourage my ideas, but he also used to talk in such glowing terms about you whenever he came back from meeting with you. I suppose, in truth, I was a little jealous of you for holding a place of high regard in my grandfather’s eyes when you had never worked on the farm.”
“I understand that,” Scott replied, and her gaze jumped up to his. “No, I really mean that. I think most of us are always trying to make our families proud, and yet sometimes our families tell everyone else of their pride but not us.” His hand squeezed her arm gently as he added, “Lizzie, I can assure you that your grandfather was incredibly proud of you. Whenever he was here, he spoke of you.”
The tension loosened a little more, and a slight smile curved her lips. “Thank you for that.” She stared into his eyes and once more was struck with how handsome he was. Dark brown hair brushed to the side. A slight scar on his upper lip that only served to give his face character. And warm eyes that held hers. It had been a long time since she had given in to any desire other than just get through the day, but at that moment, she wanted to lean forward, close the distance, and touch her lips to his.
“So, what brings you here today? Please, let me know how I can help.”
Blinking, she jolted slightly, embarrassment rushing through her body realizing that while her mind was playing out the fantasy of kissing him, she was nothing more to him than a client her grandfather had willed to lend assistance.
Forcing her mind to the matter at hand and not her blossoming libido, she blurted, “A business plan.” Seeing his unasked question in the tilt of his head, she explained, “I have an idea of how I would like to make the farm more profitable, but I don’t know about making a business plan or marketing.” She lifted her hand to rub her brow, hating to feel stupid, but she was desperate.
His hand was still on her arm, his thumb gently rubbing over her wrist. “Lizzie, I’m so glad you came to see me today. I cannot wait to hear about your ideas. I know that your grandfather was excited for you to take the farm in the direction that you saw.”
“So… um… what do we do now?” she asked hesitantly.
“We go to lunch.”
She opened her mouth then snapped it closed. Uncertain she heard him correctly, she repeated, “Lunch?”
“We can call it a working lunch. You can tell me all about your plans and we can feed ourselves at the same time.”
Her gaze drifted over his crisp dress shirt and tie, pressed slacks, shined shoes, and then down to her simple T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. “I don’t think lunch is a good idea,” she said, hating how her voice quivered.