Undeniable Demands

Still, Wade was certain this was the right area. He didn’t remember traveling far enough to reach the other plots. He’d been in too big a hurry to roam around the property all night trying to find the perfect spot. He eyed another maple tree, this one more crooked than the others. That had to be the one. He’d just have to buy the land back and hope that once spring came around, he would find the turtle rock at its base and know he’d bought the right plot.

Surging forward through the snow, he continued up to the rise and then started descending into the clearing toward what looked like some sort of shimmering silver mirage.

He pulled closer and realized it was the midafternoon sun reflecting off the superbly polished aluminum siding of an old Airstream trailer. You could have got a suntan from the rays coming off that thing. Parked beside it was an old Ford pickup truck with dually tires to haul the twenty-foot monster of a camper.

Wade stopped and killed the engine on the four-wheeler. There was no sign of life from inside the camper yet. Brody had searched online for the property sale records and found the new owner was V. A. Sullivan. Cornwall was a fairly small town, and he didn’t remember any Sullivans when he went to school, so they must be new to the area. That was just as well. He didn’t need to deal with anyone who remembered his troublesome days before the Edens and might give him grief.

His boots crunched through the snow until he reached the rounded doorway. It had a small window in it that he watched for movement when he knocked. Nothing. No sound of people inside, either.

Just great. He’d come all the way out here for nothing.

Wade was about to turn and head back home when he heard the telltale click of a shotgun safety. His head spun to the left, following the sound, and he found himself in the sights. The woman was standing about twenty feet away, bundled just as heavily as he was in a winter coat with a knit cap and sunglasses hiding most of her features. Long strands of fiery red hair peeked out from her hat and blew in the chilly wind. The distinctive color immediately caught his eye. He’d known a woman with hair that color a long time ago. It had been beautiful, like liquid flames. Appropriate, since he was playing with fire now.

On reflex, his hands went up. Getting shot by some overprotective, rural militia type was not on his agenda for the day. “Hey, there,” he called out, trying to sound as friendly and nonthreatening as he could.

The woman hesitated, and then the shotgun dropped slightly. “Can I help you?”

“Are you Mrs. Sullivan?” Hopefully Mr. Sullivan wasn’t out in the woods with a shotgun of his own.

“Miss Sullivan,” she corrected. “What’s it to you?”

A single female. Even better. Wade had a certain charm about him that served him well with the fairer sex. He smiled widely. “My name is Wade Mitchell. I wanted to talk to you about possibly—”

“Arrogant, pigheaded real-estate developer Wade Mitchell?” The woman took a few steps forward.

Wade frowned. She didn’t seem to care for him at all. He wished to God the woman wasn’t so bundled up so he could see who she was. Maybe then he could figure out why the mention of his name seemed to agitate her. Of course, he was wearing just as much winter gear as she was. “Yes, ma’am, although I wouldn’t go so far as to use those adjectives. I wanted to see if you would be interested in …”

His words dropped off as the shotgun rose again. “Aw, hell,” she lamented. “I thought it looked kinda like you under all those layers, but I thought, why would Wade Mitchell be in Cornwall making my life hell again after all this time?”

Wade’s eyes widened behind his dark sunglasses. “I have no intention of making your life hell, Miss Sullivan.”

“Get off my land.”

“I’m sorry, have I done something to you?” He scanned his brain. Had he dated a Sullivan? Beaten up her brother? He had no memory of what he could’ve done to piss this woman off so badly.

The woman stomped across the snow, closing the gap between them with the gun still pointed directly at him. She pulled off her sunglasses to study him more closely, revealing a lovely heart-shaped face and pale eyes. Her skin was creamy, the perfect backdrop to the fiery strands of hair framing her face. When her blue eyes met his, he noticed a challenge there, as though she was daring him not to remember her.

Fortunately, Wade had an excellent memory. One good enough to know that he was in trouble. The fiery redhead glaring at him was a hard woman to forget. He’d certainly tried over the years, but from time to time, she’d slipped into his subconscious and haunted his dreams with her piercing, ice-blue gaze. A gaze that reflected the hurt of betrayal that he couldn’t understand.

Property owner V. A. Sullivan was none other than Victoria Sullivan: green architect, eco-warrior and the employee he’d fired from his company seven years ago.

His stomach instantly sank. Of all the people who could’ve bought this property, it had to be her. Victoria Sullivan. The first person he’d ever fired from his company. It had pained him at the time, but he’d really had no choice. He had a strict policy on ethics violations. She hadn’t taken the news well. And judging by her stiff posture and tightly gripped firearm, she was still upset about it.

“Victoria!” he said with a wide smile, trying to sound pleasantly surprised to see her after all this time. “I had no idea you were living out here now.”

“Miss Sullivan,” she corrected.

Wade nodded. “Of course. Could you please drop the gun? I’m unarmed.”

“You won’t be when the cops come.” Her words were as icy cold as the snow, but eventually the gun disengaged and dropped to her side.

She pushed past him to the front door of the Airstream, pulling it open and climbing the stairs. “What do you want, Mr. Mitchell?”

As she hung at the top of the steps, looking back at him, Wade realized he needed to change his tactic, and fast. His original plan had been to tell the owner that he wanted the property for one of his development projects. If he told her that, she’d refuse him just to ruin his plans.

He’d have to appeal to a different side of her. That is, if he could explain himself before she started shooting.

“Miss Sullivan, I’d like to buy back this property from you.”

Tori hung on the steps, the rage slowly uncoiling in her belly. This man was determined to ruin everything she held dear. He had taken away her reputation and very nearly her career. His turning on her suddenly had also damaged her ability to trust men. Out of the blue, he’d accused her of terrible things and tossed her out. She’d lost her first real apartment after he fired her.

And now that she was trying to settle down and establish herself again, he wanted to destroy her plans for her dream home. She just knew it. Her jaw set firmly, she made her decision before he even asked the question. If he were on fire, she wouldn’t bother to spit on him.

“It’s not for sale.” She slipped inside and let the door slam behind her.

She was pulling off her coat, about to toss it onto the foldout bed, when she heard the door of the trailer open behind her. Tori spun on her heel and found the bastard standing in her tiny kitchen. He’d slipped out of his winter coat and tugged off his hat as he entered. He stood there now in a pair of dress pants and a plaid button-down shirt. The hunter-green of the top made his own green eyes seem even darker and more intriguing than she remembered. Because of the stocking cap he’d worn, his short, dark brown hair was messier than she’d ever seen it.

Without his slick suits and perfect hair, he looked nothing like the real-estate giant who had ruled over his company from the top floor. But he still had a commanding presence. She’d forgotten how tall he was: at least six foot two, with a powerful build. The large man seemed to take up all the space in her trailer, which had always had the perfect amount of room for her. It was as though he’d sucked up all the air, making her oddly warm and her camper uncomfortably small.

And she hated that about him.

Without hesitating, she picked up her shotgun again. Truthfully, it was loaded with shells full of recycled rubber pellets. She carried it with her to the compost bin in case she needed to scare off any foraging critters. She’d caught a black bear in the bin last week. The rubber pellets would send animals scurrying without seriously hurting them. Hopefully it would do the same with Wade Mitchell.

“Do you mind stepping back outside? I spent a lot of money to renovate this trailer and I’m not going to ruin it by shooting you in here.”

Wade had only a momentary flash of alarm in his eyes before he smiled at her in a way that made her cheeks flush and her knees weaken. She remembered feeling that way whenever he would walk down the hallway past her cubicle and greet her with “good morning.” She’d been fresh out of college and in awe of the two young mavericks with their up-and-coming real-estate development company. Alex Stanton was the golden playboy, but she was instantly drawn to the darker, more serious Wade. Then and now, his wide grin and strong, aristocratic features usually got him his way.

If she wasn’t careful, she might fall prey to them again. She knew better than to trust a guy like him.

“Miss Sullivan, can we please talk about this without you constantly threatening to shoot me?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Tori kept the gun in one hand while she pulled off her hat and scarf with the other. She was burning up, and it had nothing to do with her new propane heating system. It was Wade and her overheated and long-ignored libido. She hated that the man who’d betrayed and fired her could still send her pulse racing after all this time. “And it’s rude to come inside uninvited, so you deserve to be shot.”

“I apologize,” he said, laying his coat across the bench seat of her dining table. “But it is imperative that I discuss this with you today.”

Oh, she was sure it was. No doubt he had bought the forty-acre property beside her and wanted her additional ten to add to whatever ridiculous project he was developing out here. There might be an army of backhoes and land movers over the horizon just waiting for her to sign off so they could start their work. But she wasn’t giving up this land. This purchase had been years in the making. Her genealogy research had been what lured her up here, but from the first time she’d set foot in the area, she knew this was where she wanted to build her home.

Finding out the Edens were selling some property had been the chance of a lifetime. The lot was perfect. It sloped down, slightly, but would allow her to design a stilted, multistory home that had a living room with a wide vista of windows overlooking the valley below. Being surrounded by two hundred acres of tree farm on two sides guaranteed she wouldn’t have a strip mall out her back door anytime soon.

She had a couple months in between projects to start designing and building her house. It was the perfect opportunity just when she had the time and money to jump on it. And he couldn’t have it.

“I know that you’re used to getting your way, Mr. Mitchell, but I’m afraid it isn’t going to happen this time.”

On cue, her electric teapot began to chirp on the counter and spit out steam. She’d turned it on before she’d stepped out to put some trash in her compost bin, and now it was ready for her to extend some unintended hospitality. When she turned to look at Wade again, he had seated himself at her dining-table booth, a look of smug expectation in his eyes.

With a sigh, she set down the shotgun. It was hard to make tea when you were holding a heavy, loaded firearm.

“May I ask how much you paid for the land?”