Kat’s lips twitched, but she flattened them into a line. Best not to give Betty and Mavis any sign that she appreciated their support or was amused by their efforts on her behalf. They’d never behave if she encouraged them.
“But you didn’t take care of it, did you?” she asked gently. “Because Mr. Knight came back. I suppose you’ve been stealing my mail as well.”
Both women ducked their heads.
“Only the ones from him,” Betty mumbled.
“Glad to hear it. I expect to see them all on my desk by the end of the day. Understood?”
They nodded and shuffled their feet like naughty school children.
“I know you meant well.”
“You may as well know,” Mavis began without raising her eyes, “that we sent letters in reply and put your name on them.”
Kat’s lips twitched again. “Oh, dear. And what did these letters say?”
“They included a ridiculous list of demands and conditions of sale,” Sterling interjected. “Which I now suspect was intended to stop me pressing the matter. Fortunately, I’m not put off so easily.”
Curiosity got the better of her. “What kind of demands?”
“Things like maintaining the building in its current condition, keeping the long-term tenants—”
“Feeding the stray cat,” Betty added with a cheeky grin. “I thought that was a particularly nice touch.”
Kat chuckled. “You two are terrible.”
“We just didn’t want you to worry,” Mavis said. “You’re too busy to fight off corporate leeches who want to suck out your soul.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a bit overdramatic?” Sterling asked.
Kat ignored him. Though Betty, Mavis and their friends had been completely out of line, their concern warmed her on the inside. “You didn’t need to do that. I can handle these things. You don’t have to wrap me in cotton wool.”
“We love you, Kat,” Betty said. “That’s all.”
“And I love you, you crazy old bats.” She thought she heard Sterling Knight scoff as she bent to kiss each of them on the cheek. “Now, be off with you. I think I hear the garden calling your names.”
“No, that’s Nell,” Mavis said smartly.
Kat raised an eyebrow and they obediently trotted away, casting hateful glares back over their shoulders at Sterling Knight from Lockwood Holdings. She gave him a once-over herself. He was tall and lean, with tidy blond hair, vivid blue eyes, and sharp cheekbones. His face was unlined, as though he rarely laughed or smiled, which made it difficult to determine his age. She’d hazard a guess at early thirties, but wouldn’t be surprised to find out he was a few years older or younger than that.
He was undoubtedly handsome, though in a distant way. Like a model on a runway who you could look at but not touch. He gave off “stay away” vibes, and if she came within two feet of him, he’d probably move back to maintain the space between them. He seemed like a man who appreciated his personal bubble.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Knight. I’m Kat.”
2
Sterling shook the hand Kat Hopa offered, wondering if she, too, felt the sizzle of attraction as their palms connected. A Maori tattoo snaked from the top of her wrist to her elbow, the swirls of dark ink surprisingly pretty. He took a moment to study it, wondering at the hidden meaning, but then she withdrew her hand and tucked it into the pocket of her high-waisted cream shorts. He couldn’t help but be disappointed by the loss of contact.
“I know who you are,” he said. “Katarina Hopa, thirty-two years old, business owner, former professional rally driver, no children, no university education.” He softened his tone. “A widow, with a good head on her shoulders.” Someone he could bargain with.
“What, did you read my C.V. or something?” she asked, her expression not giving anything away. “Do you have a whole file about me in that briefcase?”
“No, just the basics. It always pays to know your potential business partners.”
“I’m not one of your business partners, Sterling.” She watched him steadily. “Sanctuary is not for sale. Not now, probably not ever.” She shrugged. “Sorry you came all this way for nothing.”
Sterling fought off dismay. He wouldn’t be deterred so easily. He eyed the contents of the shopping bags she’d laid on the floor, which included a couple of rolls of wallpaper, a bucket of paint and a box of nails.
“Fixing this place will require a lot of funds,” he told her. “More than you have.”
Last time he was here, he’d taken the opportunity to look around. While the east wing and communal rooms had been renovated, the west wing was in dire need of repairs. Broken windows were covered by cardboard, the wallpaper was peeling, and the floors were slumped. None of it was usable as accommodation.
“I’m willing to make you a very generous offer.”
“I’m not selling,” she repeated, shaking her head in disbelief. “Of all the crazy ideas I’ve heard today, that one takes the cake. And besides, you must know it wouldn’t be a good investment. I cover my costs here and earn enough to pay the bills, but nothing more.”
Just as he’d guessed. He didn’t smile. Didn’t let her see how much this news pleased him. A struggling business was easier to purchase than a booming one.
“At least consider our offer, Kat.” He liked the way her name tasted on his tongue. He planned to say it many more times during the course of this negotiation. “We’re prepared to pay you…” He mulled over the figure he’d come up with earlier, then decreased it by a small margin, and spoke it aloud.
Her eyes widened and her lips parted, but she didn’t reply immediately. Those lips were full and deeply colored, although he didn’t think she was wearing lipstick. Finally, she said, “That’s very generous, but Sanctuary isn’t for sale at any price. Sorry to disappoint you, that’s just how it is.”
Sterling stiffened. While he’d expected to have to work to get her agreement, he hadn’t thought she’d reject his offer outright. Dismay settled in his gut, but then a thought occurred to him. She couldn’t possibly mean it. Any intelligent person would at least try to barter with him. For God’s sake, half the building was uninhabitable, old ladies were running rampant, and from here, he could see a dog the size of a small horse on the back lawn. The place was crazy. Out of control. Kat must know that, but she was trying to drive the price up by playing hard to get.
He voiced the original offer.
Annoyance flashed in her eyes. “Excuse me?”
He repeated it, and watched her jaw work.
“I’m prepared to bargain with you,” he said. “How can I sweeten the deal?”
“You can’t,” she snapped. “This isn’t about money. Sanctuary is my home, and you’re not getting it.”
He tried a new tactic. “With the profit from the sale, you can buy a new home. One in much better condition.”
She gaped. “I love this place exactly the way it is. I’m not fishing for more money. You can offer me as much as you like, but it won’t make a difference.”