Forbidden Fling (Wildwood Book 1) (8 page)

“This is why.” Phoebe lifted her hand to Delaney, indicating her angry posture. “It was hard enough to get you here. I was afraid you’d leave town before you’d even thought things through if you knew a member of the Hayes family was in charge of the planning department.” Then in a hushed rasp she said, “Had I known you were going to
sleep with him
, I would have taken my chances and mentioned it. Good Lord in heaven, Delaney—”

“I
didn’t know
.” She crossed her arms, angry Phoebe could read her so well. “It’s bad enough to have a father who cared so little about me that he left me with this kind of burden. Bad enough to have sisters who can’t even take a couple of minutes out of their life to pick up the phone and talk me off a goddamned ledge. But I
will not
stand by and let the Hayes family or the Ryan family try to beat me down while I’m clawing my way out of this pit.”

Delaney was breathing hard, sweating now, and as soon as she stopped talking, she felt tears stinging her eyes, which only pushed her from angry to furious.

“Do you know why your father gave you that extra one percent ownership?” Phoebe asked, but she didn’t wait for an answer. “Not because you’re the oldest daughter, but because you’re the strongest. He knew what you’d be up against in this town when he passed and the three of you had to deal with this property. And he knew you were the only one who had the guts to see it through.”

Surprise compressed her lungs, and all Delaney’s air left her on a whoosh.

“You left this town running, Delaney. Running from your father. Running from the Ryans and the Hayeses. Running from the rumors. Running from yourself. You have the chance to stand your ground for a change.”

Phoebe stabbed a finger toward the ground, her expression tight, her eyes flashing. “This is
your
home. This is
your
property. And no one can make you run unless
you
let them. Stop running, Delaney. Stop running long enough to show these people, show this whole goddamned town, who you really are and what you’re really made of.”

Delaney huffed, crossed her arms over the fury battling inside her, and turned her back on Phoebe, the bar, and Ethan. Her gaze wandered the acres of countryside. Beautiful countryside covered with century-old live oak and tall grasses waving gently in the morning breeze. She’d come this morning with an open mind. But now she was having a hard time pushing aside the ugliness of the past to reach for the opportunity in front of her.

“I can come back.” Ethan’s voice cut into her thoughts. “But my schedule’s pretty booked up for the next—”

Delaney spun and met his gaze directly, cutting off his words. But he didn’t look the least bit concerned. He’d flipped his sunglasses over his head, and they sat at the back of his neck. With his hip against the grill of her Jeep, a coffee cup in one hand, half a scone in the other, he looked absolutely carefree.

He looked as if he’d smell warm and male if she pressed her face to his neck and breathed him in. As if he’d feel hard against her softness if she leaned into him. As if he’d wrap her in his arms and stroke her hair the way he had last night as she’d fallen asleep in his bed.

Now she had to wonder exactly what last night had been about for him. Why he’d taken her to bed knowing who she was. There had to be an ulterior motive. With the Hayes family, there was always an ulterior motive.

She forced her body to relax as best she could and closed the distance between them. “You need to recuse yourself from this project.”

He frowned. “This isn’t a trial.”

“Isn’t it?”

He scanned her face, and whatever he saw made his frown soften. Made a hint of compassion lighten his eyes. “No. It’s a simple procedure that home and business owners go through every day.”

“You can’t expect me to believe your opinion won’t come into play here. You have a history with this property. A vested interest in seeing renovations—if that is the direction we decide to take—fail.”

“Even if I wanted to recuse myself—or whatever you want to call it—I can’t. I’m the chief planner and building inspector, the Wildwood Planning Department all rolled into one person. If you build in this town, you go through me.”

Goddammit.
It figured.

She crossed her arms and shifted her gaze to her rattrap of an inheritance.
Screw it all.
If she had a towel, she’d throw it in.

“Maybe I could just torch it,” she said, speaking before she thought. “God, that would be amazing. Just watching it burn . . .”

Phoebe came up beside her. “Maybe another day would be best, Ethan.”

“No, he’s already here,” she said without looking at either of them. She may as well get a read on where he was going to take this. “Let’s do this.”

So I can move on with my life.

Ethan returned to his truck for a flashlight, and Delaney let him even though there was no need for one. She needed to sort things out in her head. She needed a moment to separate business and pleasure, to get herself on solid ground.

Man, this sucks.

When he was just out of earshot, Phoebe turned to her, but before she could say anything, her phone rang.

“Saved by the bell.” Delaney sighed, then told her aunt, “It’s time for you to take care of your business and let me take care of mine.” She gestured toward Phoebe’s car with a sweet, “Go on now. Move along.”

Phoebe’s scowl was filled with solemn warnings and preemptive scoldings, but she answered her phone and wandered away, giving Delaney room to breathe.

She turned and approached the bar with Phoebe’s earlier words echoing in her head.

“Stop running, Delaney. Stop running long enough to show these people, show this whole goddamned town, who you really are and what you’re really made of.”

She’d never thought of leaving all those years ago as running. Not exactly. Sure, she’d wanted to get the hell away from here, but not because she’d been afraid of anyone. Certainly not because she’d cared what they thought of her. She’d hated the power games and the double standards and the false fronts she’d run into. But mostly she’d just gotten sick of dealing with her father’s drunken bullshit. Gotten sick of keeping the bar running when he was passed out in the back room so she and Avery and Chloe would have grocery money and cash for school supplies. Phoebe always helped where she could, but back then she’d been cash poor, too.

The crunch of gravel behind her signaled Ethan’s approach. She pulled from those heavy old memories with awareness prickling all along her body, as if she could feel his eyes scanning her. Seeing her as naked as she’d been with him less than five hours ago.

In hindsight, sleeping with him without learning more beforehand had been really stupid. Mind-bending, amazing, and unforgettable, but stupid. Now she had to face her mistake and deal with the fallout.

She secured the best mental shields she could under the circumstances and turned. She remained silent, deciding to let him set the tone for this situation.

He planted his hands at his hips and scoured her from head to toe. Her work clothes included faded jeans worn through at the knees and thinning in the thighs, a T-shirt bearing the logo of her previous employer, and her standard lightweight suede work boots. Everything she had on was scarred and stained. While the fabric had been washed, it was all smeared or spattered with paint, cement, caulk, oil, grease, tar, and other compounds she couldn’t immediately identify.

With no makeup on and her unbrushed hair pulled into a ratty bun, she couldn’t have looked worse. She also couldn’t have looked any different than she had when they’d met for the first time last night.

Holy crap.
They’d only met last night.

That was surreal.

His gaze moved back up her body and held just above her left breast. “Isn’t that the logo for Pacific Coast’s Finest?”

A spark of panic singed her heart. She hadn’t thought about it when she’d pulled on the shirt. This tee was her work shirt, and the bar was a potential job. She’d reached for it automatically. But she didn’t need him digging into that mess. Certainly not after what had happened between them. And certainly not in this town, where rumors spread like wildfire in dry brush. She already had a goddamned scarlet
A
on her forehead.

So she offered a curt, “It is.”

He looked as though he wanted to ask more. Looked as if he was putting the company’s reputation for renovating historical commercial buildings into hip, urban brewpubs together with her clothing.

Instead of questions, he surprised her with, “I was going to tell you who I was this morning. But I couldn’t do that because you were gone.”

She could have picked up on the bitter undercurrent in his tone and worked it into an all-out argument, but she didn’t need any more conflict in her life. And certainly not with this man.

“It wouldn’t have mattered if I’d known a few hours earlier,” she said. “It would have mattered if I’d known
last night
. Let’s get this over with. Where do you want to start? Inside or outside?”

“How about if we start with some common sense. You’re not really thinking of renovating this place, right? Last night you were planning on tilling it under.”

“How about you start with some common decency and assume I have enough sense to make my own business decisions?” This was one of those days when she wanted to go back to bed and start over. Since she couldn’t, she looked down the length of the building. “We’ll start outside.”

She trampled the forest of ivy and weeds that had grown in the property’s three vacant years, and scanned the siding, foundation, and windows for the second time that morning.

“There’s so much wrong I could easily tell you to tear it down and start from the ground up, if you really want my opinion. And if you think this will be some sort of quick flip, you couldn’t be more wrong. There’s nothing quick, easy, or cheap about this place.”

Irritation worked its way over her shoulders and tightened her neck. She stopped and turned on him. “Do you share your opinions with all your clients?”

“I’m giving you the facts, Delaney. I’m telling you the truth.”

“You mean your version of the truth.”

“Man.” He laughed the word, but it came out bitter. “You’re not giving an inch.”

She clenched her jaw. Fingers fisted. “What do you expect? We both know you’re not objective about this.”

“Why? Because we screwed around?”

“No, Ethan.” The tension ebbed, leaving a dark film of guilt and regret. “Because Ian died here. Ian
died here
, and your entire family thinks it’s my fault.” She softened her voice. “You can’t be fair under these circumstances. It wouldn’t even be humane to expect that of you. And it’s not fair to me or my family to have your prejudices working against us. Everyone loses.”

“Really? You want to talk about loss? About fairness? Think hard before you go down the ‘not fair to me or my family’ road, Delaney, because Ian’s death changed
everything
. And not just for me.”

His strike back cut deep. Her breath caught, and her eyes stung. That was what she got for showing concern.

“This is
exactly
why you shouldn’t be working on this project. It’s also the reason you should never have slept with me. Unless you slept with me so it
would be
a problem. So it
would
put me at a disadvantage. So you
would
have all the power.”

“What?”
He pulled back and lifted his hands out to the sides. “How? How does us sleeping together put
you
at a disadvantage? How does it give
me
power? I could just as easily say
you
slept with
me
to use it as blackmail to force me to let substandard renovations go through, or in hopes of getting favors out of me during the process.”

Hurt jabbed the center of her chest, but she sputtered a laugh. “Perfect. Good to know that sleeping with me is something you’re so ashamed of I could blackmail you with it. Tell me
that’s
not a conflict of interest.”

“Holy shit.” He dropped his head back and closed his eyes. “That is
not
what I meant.”

Maybe not . . . okay, probably not, but still, it had been a thoughtless thing to say, and it hurt.

“Can we move on?” Delaney asked. “And focus on the reason we’re here?”

FIVE

Delaney crossed her arms over the discomfort expanding like a balloon in her gut.

“Fine.” Ethan’s terse agreement to get through this unofficial inspection clearly cut any tenuous threads still hanging between them.

He strode past her, along the side of the building toward the main power box, and started in, firing off every problem within sight and every potential problem. And, Delaney quickly realized, problems that weren’t problems at all.

He opened the main electrical panel and shone his flashlight on the dirty circuit panel. “This is way too small to support an industrial kitchen and the square footage your father added without a permit.” Without looking at her over his shoulder, he said, “Anything added to the original structure without a permit has to be taken down and permitted before it’s rebuilt.”

When Ethan stepped back to close up the box, Delaney stole a look at his face, searching his expression for some sign of what was going on in his head, but he turned away and moved on before she could judge whether he was outright lying, ridiculously ignorant, or simply testing her.

And while Ethan babbled about problems with the grading and drainage pathways, about the missing flashings and gutters and moldings, and pointed out problems with the roof ventilation, support for the second-story overhang, and lack of egress windows on the upper floor, Delaney’s mind traveled back in time.

She scraped together everything she could remember about the Hayes family and Ethan specifically, and was deep in thought when he stopped short at the sight of a crumbling portion of the stem wall foundation.

Crouching, he shone his flashlight through the vent space to peer beneath the house. “The piers holding up the beams down here are crumbling.”

Delaney lifted a brow. He had to be exaggerating. “Really? All of them?”

“Yes, really.” He pushed to his feet. “You’re going to have to rebuild the foundation of this place. Do you realize what that involves?” He put his hands on his hips and scowled at her. “Delaney,
do you realize
how much money you’re looking at putting into this place?”

“Ethan, do
you
realize how much money I’m going to throw away by tearing it down?”

“A third of what you’ll spend just getting it back to code. And what about the effort it would involve and the headaches it would create for you? Isn’t your time better spent doing something else?”

She shook her head and looked down at the ground, unsure what to say or how to say it. She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. It was very possible he simply didn’t have as much experience in renovation as she did. He may not know all the ways to cut costs while maintaining efficiency and quality. But the reality that he may very well simply be trying to scare her off the project was just too obvious to ignore.

If he’d been anyone else, in any other town, Delaney would have stuck with her characteristic bold confrontation. But he was a Hayes and she was a Hart, and they were in Wildwood, talking about a building that harbored a very ugly, very painful scar for a lot of people. So she skipped what the situation called for, which would have been, “Could you pull your head out of your ass and stop treating me like a bored housewife looking for a hobby?” and followed him toward the front of the building with a mumbled, “I guess that’s one perspective.”

Inside, while he was prowling around the kitchen, she watched him from the doorway, admiring the way his muscles rolled beneath the soft cotton tee, the way his ass looked in those jeans. And, yes, wishing all this shit wasn’t between them because, man, what she’d give for another night with that body, that mouth, those hands . . .

She gave herself a shake and drew a deep breath; her brain needed oxygen. “How long have you been an inspector?”

He cut a look at her, his gaze guarded. “Eight years. Why?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Because you were the valedictorian of your class and went off to UC Berkeley as a chemistry major on scholarship.” She kept her voice casual, neutral, like they had no connection, no conflict, and she was simply a curious client. “Shouldn’t you be getting a master’s in nuclear physics or something equally geeky at some snobbish Ivy League?”

He straightened, frowning. “I was the salutatorian.”

“Whatever, you still spoke at graduation.”

That got a quirk of a smile out of him. But only for a second. “You said I wasn’t on your radar.”

“You weren’t. Not until I got your whole name and fit a few puzzle pieces together. Like you said last night, we didn’t know each other, but we knew
of
each other. I was at graduation because a few of my friends graduated with you. Steve Parsons, Randy and Wendy Daniels.”

He just kept staring, as if he were trying to see through her skull into her brain.

“How’d you end up here, doing this?” she asked. “Did you decide you hated science or get someone pregnant or something?”

His gaze darkened. His jaw tightened.

“Or something.” He came toward the door, his eyes never leaving hers, and didn’t stop until they faced each other in the doorway, which was
way
too close. Like barely-two-inches-apart too close. His clean, spicy scent filled her head, his warmth wrapped around her, and her body seemed to reach for him.

Delaney kept her gaze straight ahead, on his chest, but couldn’t keep her eyes from closing.

Then his rough chin scraped her temple, and his voice murmured in her ear, “You still smell like me.”

Her stomach jumped. Her eyes opened. And he was gone. Out of the doorway and striding through the main bar area. Delaney, however, couldn’t move. She was so light-headed her vision was blurry. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears and thudded between her legs, and it took excruciatingly long moments for that little rush to subside.

Thankfully—or not—Ethan’s relentless barrage on the building’s every last goddamned flaw sped up her recovery. He pointed out venting problems and cabinet, countertop, appliance, and electrical code violations. Noted several nonpermitted structures and cited width, height, head clearance, and exit violations.

“You’ll have to bring the entrance and the bathrooms up to handicap codes. And this whole place needs sprinklers. The entire interior—bar, seating areas, bathrooms, kitchen—everything. That’s a big,
big
chunk of cash right there.”

He paused, exhaled heavily, and glanced toward the stairs leading to the second floor. “I’m ready to hit the brothel if you are.”

She huffed a laugh. At the turn of the century, The Bad Seed was reputed to have been a bar and brothel. Quite the hot spot. Before the bar had deteriorated into a biker bar, the history had been a common draw for tourists, and it had fascinated Delaney as a kid. But she wasn’t going through any more of this with him. She’d seen enough of his inspection style to know what she had to do next. And if she spent another minute tortured by his unbearably sexy presence, she didn’t completely trust herself not to jump him.

Honestly, sometimes her ability to separate sex from other parts of life was a pain in the ass. This would be a lot easier if writing him off as a jerk guaranteed her desire would follow.

But no. For her, sex was sex. Work was work. And she still wanted him.

Dammit.

He shrugged and gave her that a-freaking-dorable half grin. “Kinda always wanted to see it.”

That little glimmer of the Ethan she’d spent the night with wasn’t helping. “Maybe another time. I think I’ve had all the walk-through I can take today.”

He faced her and pressed his palm against the wood. His expression was open, and what looked like sincere concern floated in his eyes. “I know a guy in Santa Rosa. He’s a contractor, went through a rough patch a few years back, and he’s still trying to recover. If you want, I’ll call him. See if I can get you a good deal on the demolition. The disposal will still cost the same, but you might save ten, fifteen grand on the demo.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She straightened and pushed her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. The position pushed her chest forward, drawing Ethan’s gaze. Heat flared in his eyes, the kind that made him look like he wanted to pin her to the nearest table. Of course, her traitorous body responded. “Before you leave, we should get your agenda out in the open.”

That brought his gaze back to her face. “Agenda?”

“There were quite a few discrepancies between reality and the information you just delivered. You’re an intelligent guy, and you obviously know your job, which rules out ignorance or mistakes and leaves me with one conclusion: you deliberately misled me. I need to know why.”

He shifted on his feet, resetting his stance as if readying for a fight. “Excuse me?”

“Discrepancies,” she repeated. “Like the electrical service panel outside. It’s completely up to code. Half of the panel was covered because it isn’t being used, but it’s there, powered up, and available to supply electricity to a building twice this size. It’s a little hard to believe you missed that.”

Ethan’s mouth went slack.

“And if you’d looked a little closer at the interior electrical instead of opening up just one box, you’d have figured out pretty quickly that the whole bar, including the kitchen, has superior wiring except for the ten feet along that one outer wall. My guess is that my dad had some planned renovation for that area that he didn’t get around to implementing.”

He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Delaney—”

“As for the kitchen, you must not have noticed the exhaust hood is a Viking Pro model, which can easily handle the double duty needed for both the fryer and the grill. And you got the exit requirements wrong for the building’s occupancy—I only need two exits, not three, which I already have.

“As for the foundation, you should have been able to see with one look that only a few of the pilings beneath the building are failing, not the entire foundation, which is actually a pretty easy fix with a few hydraulic lifts for support while the bad ones are being repaired and reinforced.”

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut as if he had a headache and ran a hand over his forehead, then scraped it through his hair.

“As for unpermitted construction,” she continued, “there is only one area that’s been added on to the original structure, the back porch, which—”

“Delaney,”
he said sharply, cutting her off. “It’s great that you know construction.” He gestured to her clothes. “It looks like you’ve done your share of labor. But in this situation, a little information could be a bad thing. People with a casual working knowledge of construction try to take on bigger jobs than they should all the time. I see it almost every day. Simply working in construction
does not
qualify anyone to take on a renovation of this size or depth. And if you sub out the work, you’ll be spending as much as you’ll ever get for the place, which, in essence is a waste of your time and effort.”

“My concern isn’t a lack of knowledge, skill, or ability on
my part
.” She held his gaze. “My concern, based on the information you gave me over the last twenty minutes, is a lack of objectivity and integrity on
your part
.”

That honest truth hit its mark, and by the frustration rolling across his handsome face, Ethan was trying just as hard to rein in his temper. “Renovating isn’t just about fixing code violations—”

“Here’s the thing.” She was done with the push and pull. Time for her line in the sand. “You may be the only game in town, but you’re not the only inspector in the county. And if I catch you in one more lie—
just one
—I’ll not only file a formal complaint with the city, I’ll go over your head and demand the city manager bring in an inspector from one of the cities nearby. If I have to, I’ll go over the city manager’s head and bypass the mayor by going to the city council, because we all know how tight the Hayes and Ryan families can be when things go bad. And this time, I’m not leaving until
I decide
I’m leaving.”

She stabbed her index finger toward the floor. “This is more than a building renovation. This is my entire life savings. This is money I’ve worked the last decade of my life to put away. This is my future, Avery’s future, Chloe’s future. This, Ethan, is business. And in business I play straight, clean, right up the middle. I’m good at what I do, so I don’t need to play dirty. But even better, I know how to beat dirty with good business. So I’m more than happy to take dirty and meet it head-on, and I can guarantee those on the dirty side won’t like the outcome.”

When she stopped and took a breath, Ethan looked both shocked and awed. For a long moment, Delaney didn’t think he was going to say anything, but he finally said, “All this arguing is useless. You’ve only got twelve days to start renovations. There’s no way any architect is going to be able to get all the required documents together for the building permit by then, let alone begin working on this place.”

She smirked. “Keep telling yourself that, Hayes. Tell your dad, too, while you’re at it. Maybe it will keep him off your back while I’m weighing all my options. Thanks for your time. Sorry we called you in on a Saturday.”

She slid her hands into her back pockets again, turned on her heel, and sauntered toward the door, avoiding the divots in the floor that Phoebe had marked with fluorescent sticky notes. But she didn’t feel vindicated or triumphant for standing up to Ethan. Nor did she feel hopeful or excited the way she always did when she was on the brink of a new project.

She felt mean and thoughtless and bitchy. When she’d left Ethan’s bed this morning, she’d hoped they could be friends while she was in town. Maybe even have an occasional hookup and keep it quiet.

Now they were enemies. On opposite sides. The very last place she wanted her building inspector or her lover.

She’d only gotten halfway to the door when Ethan’s hand closed on her bicep. He swung her around so hard she hit his body, and his arm closed at her waist, keeping her there. His eyes burned a deep, smoky green, his mouth firm with frustration.

Delaney saw a little of that wild side he’d shown her last night. Intensely passionate, demanding, edgy. Lust rolled through her body in waves. God, she wanted that again.