Sunset Rivalry: The Caliendo Resort (By The Lake: The Caliendo Resort Book 2) (3 page)

“Meet me tomorrow. Same time as tonight, in your favorite hiding place...the bushes.”

He’d been watching her for days and she’d never noticed him.

“I will have the key and you will get us in.” 

“How? There are cameras everywhere.” 

He stepped toward her, the closeness shrinking the room. He always had this effect. He always left her body shivering with pleasure and fear and craving more.

How had two years not changed that? 

QUINN BARKER COULDN’T stop himself. He stepped toward Anya just so he could smell her again.

Yeah, smell her.

Her familiar vanilla scent brought back everything in their past.

Everything. 

He’d hadn’t stopped thinking about this woman since the night he walked out of this suite. Not a day had gone by when he hadn’t reached for his phone to get the information on her whereabouts.

It wouldn’t have been hard. That was his job...or had been his job...when Robert was alive. A temporary position that he’d never imagined he’d undertake. Digging up the skeletons in people’s closets and handing the crucial information to a man who used it at his own discretion, for his own demented purposes, that no doubt put every last person that Quinn screwed into the exact bargaining situation Quinn had been in with Robert. It was amazing what people did to keep their secrets hidden.

Robert had destroyed people and families ruthlessly for his own gain: Money and power.

It made Quinn sick. The thought that Quinn had helped made him even sicker. But at the time, he hadn’t had a choice. 

So when Anya confronted him about the truth of his job, he’d let her believe he was the jerk Robert had painted Quinn out to be.

Even on his death bed Robert was a greedy bastard and he took the one person in Quinn’s life that he’d started to like.

Anya wasn’t like her sister Violet who wore a mask and no one could figure out what the hell was going on in her head. Not even Quinn...and he knew how to read people.

Anya was different, transparent or as he liked to believe,
real
. When she was excited, her blue eyes lit up like sparkling beach glass glistening off the sandy beach under the bright sun. Her full lips, always painted a shade of glossy rose, except tonight, and pursed when she was angry. A pursed pout that he found absolutely adorable.

When she was angry, she was angry.

When she was sad, she was sad.

And when she’d looked at him two years ago with betrayal in her eyes, he’d known there was nothing left for him to do except let her believe that he was the man she thought he was: a heartless asshole.

That had been his plan before Anya reminded him he had heart, even after all the trauma in his life.

Quinn had been that heartless asshole when he’d used the attraction he saw in her eyes against her. Anya had put the idea in his head, after they bumped, literally, right into one another sending her notes fluttering across the hallway like leaves falling from a tree.

Quinn had been left with no other alternative...his family depended on him...his dead father expected Quinn to get that file.

This time around he was not going to let his feelings get involved and hurt her. He wouldn’t hurt her again.

No, you’re going to blackmail her instead. Just like Robert did with you. 
 

“I will get you in and out undetected.” He didn’t mean for his voice to come out so gruff, but battling the desire to ask if she was alright was destroying his insides.

He couldn’t fight all his desires. His hand moved without permission.

Put it down.

Quinn didn’t listen and gently touched Anya’s delicate cheek. Her skin was chilled from waiting outside in the cool summer night.

His voice softened as he said, “I’m glad you’re okay.” His hand lingered for a heartbeat too long.

Anya’s face was haunted, her eyes shadowed with darkness, guilt and fear he recognized mirrored his own reflection.

What could make this woman feel and display these feelings so forthright? What had happened to her? Where has she been?

Quinn assumed when she left the day after their fight that it was to escape him and start her life over somewhere else. Only, he’d heard the whispers through the resort. You could only believe half the gossip traveling through the grapevine of stories created by the employees. Quinn had listened to stories about Anya being missing, or disappearing without a trace. But when Marc had approached Quinn a few days earlier, he’d realized what a fool he’d been for believing the stories.

If what Marc had told him about Anya’s few short, lacking of details, phone calls to Eliza in the last two years and the sneaking around hadn’t been an indicator, then her appearance now did.

Anya hadn’t left to start a happy new life.

Quinn recognized the signs in her easily readable face: Regret, worry, and guilt.

What was she doing back now? Whose file did she want?

Anya’s eyes glazed over in a frigid way that Quinn had never seen before. She stepped back and hit his arm away at the same time, then snarled, “Don’t act like you care about me. Pin me to a bed, twist my arm and show me the real Quinn Barker, but don’t play another game with me. I am not up for round two.”

He should have remained silent and let her vision of him remain intact, but the words stumbled out of his mouth. “I’m not playing a game with you.” 

Luckily, Anya didn’t fall for his words. “All you do is play games with your career and life. Just like this blackmailing game. Two years later and you’re worse then you were when my dad was alive.” 

Two years later and he was worse than before?

That statement was inaccurate. Two years ago he’d had hope when now hopelessness consumed his every hour. Until Marc asked him to find Anya.

Coincidentally, he’d found her sneaking back into her suite. He’d hoped it meant one thing: she was looking for the same thing he was, the files.

Turns out he was spot on. Now, he had to keep his boundaries...apparently he was lacking in self control but this woman wasn’t. Which was perfect. 

“Let’s go, before you get caught,” he snarled and turned stalking out of the bedroom. He was angry at himself for being so weak. This woman had no idea what she did to him.

“Me?” she called after him. He could hear her running shoes stomping behind him like an infuriated child.

Yeah her. Why was she surprised?

“What are you going to tell Marc?” she asked. 

Quinn should tell Marc that he found Anya. It was clear by her skeleton body and the sneaking around that she needed her family more now than ever.

Where have you been? What happened? How do I fix it?

He bit back everything and said, “I’m not going to contact him until I have something to give.” 

“What does that mean?” He heard the accusation in her voice. 

He continued to the door. They had to get out. They’d already been in there long enough. 

Anya grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and tried to yank his arm. He didn’t budge but turned around as she accused, “Are you going to tell him where I am once I get you the file? That’s not part of the deal, Barker.”

Barker.
Distant and hateful.

Keep yourself distant.
“Once I have the file, I will disappear...without a word to any of your family.” 

Anya’s lips pursed that luscious way they did when she was confused. “You’re leaving? Willow Valley?” 

What did it matter to her?

“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing her upper arm and pulling her against him as he scanned the property and led her outside. They walked across the damp grass to the outskirts of the bushes.

When they were hidden in the shadows, he let her go.

“Tomorrow. Right here. Same time,” he repeated.

He knew her path was back out the bushes to the road. His path was the opposite direction, through the resorts property. He had a ten to fifteen minute walk while hers would be almost an hour. 

“Come on. I will drive you to your car,” he said. 

Anya folded her arms across her chest and those lips pursed again as her eyes narrowed on him. “Why?”

The better question was why did he offer?

“Forget it. Hike yourself through that bush for the next hour and when you’re finished get yourself some real food. Whatever you’re eating these days has turned you into skin and bones. You need to eat real food.” He snarled every last word and watched her flare with anger.

For a woman who loved to cook up huge meals...even the evenings when it was only the two of them...he didn’t understand how she’d gotten so thin. 

“You need to get a filter,” she said, appalled.

Quinn almost laughed.

He’d heard that term used by Violet and directed at Izzy in the exact same sentence repeatedly over the years.

However, right now he was serious. 

“Truth hurts.” 

“You’re good at dishing both out. The truth and hurt mixed in with secrets and lies. You’re just one big happy bundle of destruction.” 

“Precisely Anya. I am only destruction. Tomorrow.” 

Quinn turned on his heel and left.

She’d managed on her own for days sneaking back and forth, she’d be fine tonight. Quinn wasn’t sure that he would be fine tonight...but at least he had a night to get himself back in check and remember Anya was off limits.  

ANYA DIDN’T KNOW what time she dragged herself from bed...”dragged” being the accurate word.

Every inch of her body objected. Her eyes blinked against the intense morning sun spilling through the sheer curtains. She lifted her heavy, deadweight body from the old overly soft and springy mattress. Her body demanded she lie back down into the warmth of the wool blanket that she’d brought from her suite the first night she was there. But she pressed on.

The abandoned cabin was located on the edge of the resort’s property and wasn’t far from Crystal River which flowed into the lake. It was a debate whether the condition was worse on the inside with loose floorboards and sunken ceilings or with the outside’s crumbling wood structure.

Either way it would have to do. It was a temporary fix that kept her off the town’s nosy radar.

Inside the wood floors were soft and dipping, like the sinking feeling of dread she lived with day after day. She’d swept a thick layer of dust off with a corn broom missing half its bristles so she could walk around barefooted, like this morning.

The tattered curtains were like the remains of her soul, shredding more as time went by. They hung across antique four-pane, wood-framed windows. Some were missing the glass and others were cracked and ready to crumble to the ground at any given moment, just like her life.

It was a dump and she was a mess. They were the perfect match. Luckily she wasn’t staying long...actually she’d stayed longer than expected already. As soon as the file was in her hands, she was taking a flight to pick up Rebecca and reuniting Rebecca with her family. Once Anya figured out who they were.

Each wide board squeaked under her as she staggered into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes, and craving a good cup of coffee.

The granite tea kettle and jar of instant coffee that greeted her on the counter were nowhere near good enough.

Instant. Yuck.

As her hands reached for the kettle, someone cleared their throat, loud, deep and familiar.

Quinn. 

Anya screamed and jumped before his name registered in her foggy morning brain.

She spun around to find him sitting at the silver formica table...which too had seen better days. Lifting edges, stained top. But with Quinn casually leaned back in one of the chairs with his arms folded across his chest, it turned dumpy into vintage class real quick. His black boots were propped up resting on the chair across from him.

He was even more beautiful in the light. Anya forgot how his bronzed skin glowed and pulled flecks of gold out of his dark, mysterious eyes.

Quinn was smirking as his eyes appreciatively roamed from her black camisole to the hot pink lace undies. 

“Quinn! What are you doing here?” She tried to pull her camisole down but it was useless and only garnered a wider smile from Quinn. 

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he observed. 

He was right.
Darn him.              

Anya let her camisole go, straightened her body and pointed a finger at him as she walked past saying, “There is something wrong with you. Breaking and entering. Following me around.”
Something seriously wrong with him
.
Something seriously wrong with me because I kind of like it.

After being alone for so long, she couldn’t deny even the little interaction with him, someone who knew her, was comforting.

“I’m going to get dressed,” she barked back at him.

Just because he’d already seen it, didn’t mean he was entitled to a free show.

As she reached his side, he casually held out a takeout cup of coffee in front of her, like it was an ordinary, everyday occurrence that he was casually sitting in her kitchen. At one time in her life, she’d wished he would be sitting at her kitchen table while she whipped up a delicious breakfast they could share...dressed being optional. She briefly wondered what he liked to eat for breakfast...eggs, pancakes or was he a bagel or muffin kind of guy.

What does it matter?

Strong and fresh hot coffee wafted from the cup and teased her taste buds.

Anya took the cup and mumbled, “Thank you.”

More like my foggy brain and caffeine craving body thanks you. I’m still pissed you’re in my kitchen uninvited and unannounced.
At least that was the story she was sticking to.

Quinn didn’t let go of the cup and her fingers rested over top of his.

Anya swallowed the pleasure that tiny touch brought.

Forced to look down at him, she met his stare. Even sitting in the chair, he was still almost at her height. His appreciative eyes were no longer roaming her body, but instead locked on her eyes...the way only Quinn Barker knew how to do. His dark eyes were like a shovel excavating the truth from her soul.

Quinn was the big, silent type. The sort of man who observed quietly and made a woman shudder from the inside out from only that look...or glance, and especially the smirk like the one when he’d startled her with not thirty seconds ago.

His ability to highjack Anya’s emotions astounded her. And he did it with a simple stare that told her nothing about him, but gave her the security to trust he would when the time was right for him.

The hard truth was Quinn would have never disclosed the details of his arrangement with her father because Quinn had never been serious about Anya. She needed to keep that in mind if he was going to keep popping in and flipping her onto beds.

Anya breathed evenly, trying her hardest to not show him her disappointment. After all these years, her heart still skipped a beat in his presence.

She’d been a young, naive fool two years ago allowing him to jumble her better judgement.

She silently cursed herself knowing that not much had changed.

Right now, that very same look made her forget she was standing in front of him half naked, or that he was in the process of blackmailing her, or even that he’d even broken into her house...twice in less than twenty-four hours.

Anya maintained eye contact, trying to be the strong woman who had told him to leave her suite two years ago. All his games and coffee kindness didn’t change who he was. All her feelings for him didn’t make him a better person...or change his feelings for her.

Now, Quinn’s eyes revealed something she’d never seen before and honestly she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

He let go of the cup. Breaking the contact sent the current situation rushing back to Anya, as did her need to put on some pants.

She hurried back into her bedroom. She shut the door and leaned against it, cradling the warmth of the coffee.

After a mouthful−or five−of the good−no grea
t−
coffee, she dug out a fresh outfit from her suitcase.

Anya settled on a dark blue, crisp, cuff-sleeved dress with buttons up the front and a belt around the waist.

With no air conditioner, the humid air was seeping through the old cottage as nature’s way of taking a blow dryer to her hair with no frizz-control serum. The frizzy disaster would be even an eighties tragedy. She pulled her hair into another ponytail and headed back into the kitchen. 

Quinn hadn’t moved.

Was she expecting him to be gone...hoping?

His fingers were swiping and typing on his cell phone, diverting his attention from her only momentarily. When he heard Anya, he slid the electronic device, that she knew was getting poor to none reception, into his pocket and watched her. Silently. The way he scrutinized her made her feel like she was still naked.

“What?” she snapped, immediately full of regret.

He was right. She was never good at hiding her feelings or thoughts.

But why did she have to?

Or why should she feel less superior because she was open and honest? What made him better than her just because he didn’t let people see what he was thinking? Nothing. If anything, that only made him weaker. But he sure didn’t look weak. He was intimidating to everyone. But Anya wasn’t intimidated. She was annoyed. 

He grinned. 

Anya took a deep breath, ignoring the way the movement in his lips broke his hard face. Rare were the grins or smiles to anyone...even to her. It had only been the moments when his laughter erupted in the room that made her believe he had been opening up to her.

Foolish, foolish girl.

Quinn slid a paper bag, one she hadn’t noticed sitting in front of him, across the table.

“I brought you breakfast,” he said. 

“I have breakfast.” 

He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “No you don’t.” 

No, she didn’t. And he probably already raided the unplugged fridge and empty cobwebbed cupboards to confirm it.

How annoying. 

“Eat.” His throaty tone didn’t scare her.

“You eat,” she retorted. 

“I did.” 

She folded her arms across her chest.

“I can tell. You’ve put on some weight since the last time I saw you.”

He hadn’t.

She continued anyway, rather fed up with his blackmailing, barking of orders, and breaking into her houses. “You got a little bit of a double chin going on...” Anya rubbed her own chin and pretended to be examining his for flaws.

In reality, her mouth was dehydrating trying not to remember the way her lips felt tracing his jaw line.

“...or is that this new five o’clock shadow thing you’ve got going on?” she asked, walking across the room.

Oh how I want to lick that five o’clock shadow. Ugh...more like yummy. 

“It’s all muscle,” he said proudly, but not cocky.  

Anya rolled her eyes. “It’s all ego.” 

“I forgot how feisty you can be when you’re wound up. So much like Izzy.”

Anya pushed off the counter she was leaning against. “Stop comparing me to my sisters. So I’m not like Violet and I share my emotions and feelings with people and I might be feisty like Izzy, but I’m not foolish like her. So quit the small talk and tell me what you’re doing here.” 

The humor from their banter vanished and the fog of his anger clouded across his face.

Quinn stood up and crossed the tiny kitchen so fast that the motion startled Anya back against the counter. He pushed forward until they were only inches apart.

Anya swallowed hard, not from fear, not from anger but simply from the closeness. He was a good foot taller than her and now he glowered down at her. 

“What right do you have to be mad at me? You gave the options. You ended it between us. You left me.” 

Gave the options? She left him! Had he gone delusional in the last couple years?

He was a lying, sneaking, ruin-peoples-lives kind of man and he’d thought she should stay with him? After the whole, “we’re having a good time here” shit that he said to her. He thought she should stay with him? Why? So he could throw her into the cross fire with the rest of his victims!
 

“You can’t walk away from something you never had.”

His jaw twitched. He didn’t like her answers and she could see it. Now who was the one showing their emotions? She would have
tsked
him, if he didn’t speak first.

“This is going to go one of two ways.” There was his overbearing controlling tone again.

Oh really? Was it now?

“Either you’re going to tell me where you’ve been the last two years or I’m going to dig it all up.”

What did he care where she’d been or what she’d been doing? It wasn’t like he’d chased her down. It wasn’t like he’d
cared
.

Anya wasn’t about to answer a single question from him.

She narrowed her eyes, not needing to muster up the anger she felt. “I forgot how controlling you are,” she said. Just to get her point across she added, “Just like my dad.”

A flicker of emotion reflected in his eyes before he blinked it clear.

Anya took the opportunity to slip away.

She grabbed the bag of breakfast he’d brought from the table and escaped the stuffy kitchen and out the back door. It wasn’t the ghostly, unlived-in, or abandoned stuffiness she was escaping, but rather their stuffy past.

Anya found solitude on the porch swing, not sure whether to trust its security, but at least its bowing sound was honest with her: sit on at own risk. If only she’d had those warning signs about Quinn when she’d first bumped into him.

Balancing her coffee on the swing, she opened the paper bag with Mrs. Calvert’s bakery logo stamped on the front. The smell of warm, freshly baked croissants made her stomach rumble.

She smiled.

It had been a long time since her body craved food. Maybe it was being home. Maybe it was facing Quinn.

More than likely it was because after tonight she could help Rebecca. It wasn’t her own selfishness at the possibility that Anya could also return home when this was all finished that eased her mind.

Anya wanted to go home. She missed her family every single day and her sadness was the perfect punishment for what she’d done, which made her wonder if she deserved to go home. Did she deserve to leave all that she’d done in the past and move on with her life?