* * *
Kat didn’t knowhow anyone could think to bowl over her beautiful Sanctuary and replace it with a corporate money-generator. Sure, the west wing needed repairs, but everything else was in great shape, largely because of the work she’d put in.
She studied Sterling Knight, who had a determined set to his jaw. “Look, I painted those skirting boards myself when I was still in a wheelchair.” She’d cried tears for Teddy as she worked. “It took weeks to recover enough to use a roller to paint the walls, but I managed. See the carpet? I cut it myself.” She didn’t know why she was explaining this to him. Why would he care that just inside the garden door were a few flecks of paint on the carpet where she’d messed up as she was tidying things away. To him, this was an old building like any other. To Kat, who knew its every quirk and imperfection, Sanctuary meant everything.
“That must have been difficult for you,” he allowed, his expression losing its hard edges, making him even more handsome, and a strange fizzing sensation began in the pit of her stomach, working its way upward. “I can see how you’d grow attached, but you’re better now. You’re capable of more.”
Her lips pursed. He didn’t get it, not at all. But the man had clearly had a bad day, and she could sympathize with that. She knew more than most people about bad days. He’d driven all the way here—not once, but twice—only to be harassed by Betty and the Bridge Club. If nothing else, he deserved a hot drink and a listening ear.
“Come to my office,” she said, adding quickly, “I don’t agree with you, and have no intention of selling, but I’ll make you a cup of tea and we can talk.”
He nodded and gestured for her to lead the way. She led him down the hall to her office.
“Go on in.” She motioned him through the door. “I’ll get those drinks.”
Before she could go, Sterling spun around to face her. “How do you find anything in here?”
Kat glanced at her desk and the pile of loose paperwork, some of which had fallen to the floor. She was struck by the overwhelming urge to grab Sterling by the arm, yank him back out of her office and slam the door so he stopped looking at her in that unnerving way he had. It wasn’t her fault she couldn’t concentrate on paperwork for longer than an hour without feeling sick or getting a headache. Everyone healed from brain injuries at their own pace, and she may never be able to keep up with someone like him.
“I manage just fine,” she snapped. “I don’t need a fancy filing system. I know where everything is.” A blatant lie, but she’d rather he think her inefficient than incompetent.
Sterling’s expression didn’t change. “I’ll have a coffee, thanks.”
She nodded, and unclenched her teeth. “How do you like it?”
“Black. No sugar.”
Of course he did. Already she could tell he wasn’t the type to sweeten anything. She backed away, reluctant to leave him alone, but what damage could he do? You’re being ridiculous.
She headed to the kitchen, where she greeted Tione, the in-house cook and one of her best friends, with a smile and a kiss on his bearded cheek as she brushed past to flick the kettle on. Tione was preparing lunch for her guests, a selection of sandwiches, fruit, salad and cold meat. Kat stole a bunch of grapes and popped one into her mouth.
“Hey, I saw that,” he grumbled. “Keep your sticky fingers to yourself.”
“You saw nothing,” she replied with a grin. “Is everything going all right in here?”
The side of his mouth lifted, about as close as he came to smiling, and his brown eyes twinkled. “Except for the grape thief who keeps sneaking into my kitchen, everything is fine.”
Unabashed, she ate another grape. He rolled his eyes, and she dropped the grapes onto a saucer and fixed a mug of coffee and one of mint tea.
Back in her office, Sterling Knight was sitting on the guest chair in front of her desk, holding a wooden photo frame that had previously stood atop the bookcase. The cheerful words she’d been about to utter died on her lips, and she blinked rapidly against stinging tears.
Kat knew the photograph in his hands better than she knew her own face. It had been taken the day of the World Rally Championship in Sweden. In it, she wore a jacket with her sponsor’s logo and had just popped the cork from a bottle of champagne. She was grinning like she’d never been happier, and Teddy’s arm was around her shoulders, his face lit with the contagious verve for life he’d always had. The photo always reminded her how cruel it was that he’d always squeezed the most from life and yet she’d outlived him.
She swallowed, then shook herself, and pretended not to notice as Sterling placed the frame back on the bookshelf. Instead, she made a show of clearing space for the mugs, dragged her chair around to join him, and blew on the surface of her tea before sipping cautiously.
“I’m listening,” she said.
Sterling raised the mug to his lips, which were surprisingly sensual, with a defined Cupid’s bow, but his shoulders remained square. Her mother would say he had good posture, but Kat saw it for what it was: tension. The man was wound tight. Now that she thought about it, he hadn’t slouched or leaned or done anything to make himself comfortable since they’d met. His knees were bent at neat ninety-degree angles, his feet were on the floor, pointing forward, and his spare hand rested on the arm of the chair. When was the last time this guy relaxed?
Just like that, she itched to swap his coffee for a beer, strip off his starched suit and replace it with track pants and a t-shirt. The man desperately needed to unwind. If he was one of her guests, that’s exactly what she would have done. Sanctuary wasn’t just a hotel. It was a place to relax, discover yourself, and heal. But even though his soul was screaming for a little downtime, Sterling hadn’t asked to be healed.
He nodded. “Thank you. I have a presentation outlining the benefits of selling and my employer’s plans for the site. There are many positives beyond making a profit. If you wait a moment, I’ll get it from my car.”
Kat shook her head. “Don’t bother. None of those benefits could justify shutting down Sanctuary.”
If possible, he stiffened further, and she winced. That must be hell on his back. If she could dig her thumbs into the knotted muscles, perhaps the scowl would transform into a smile. She’d met plenty of people like Sterling before—all work and no play. He probably had no idea there was a different way of living, but she could show him. She was good at that. Teddy had said she could talk anyone into anything if she believed in her argument strongly enough, and she firmly believed that Sterling Knight needed a time out.
Then, like lightning, she was struck by a brilliant idea.