“I’m just not the romantic type.”

“No?”

“No,” she whispered.

Dan leaned his head down to hers as he studied her, his smile so close to her mouth that her parted lips longed to taste it. God, Kinley thought dazedly, when was the last time she’d sat in the gardens with a man who made her toes curl?

Much, much too long ago.

She rested her hands on his shoulders, fingers flexing into the muscles there. “This is not at all like me,” she assured him. “And in a few minutes I’m going to leave this bench, go home and attend to some work matters before I get any rest tonight. But first …”

And because this night seemed to have a touch of magic in the air, she covered his rogue’s smile with her lips. Just a taste, she promised herself. After the past few hours together, she didn’t think he’d mind too badly.

The eager way his arms went around her proved he didn’t mind in the least.

* * *

Bride Mountain: Where a trip down the aisle is never far away …

Matched by

Moonlight

Gina Wilkins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

GINA WILKINS is a bestselling and award-winning author who has written more than seventy novels for Mills & Boon. She credits her successful career in romance to her long, happy marriage and her three “extraordinary” children.

A lifelong resident of central Arkansas, Ms Wilkins sold her first book to Mills & Boon in 1987 and has been writing full-time since. She has appeared on the Waldenbooks, B. Dalton and USA TODAY bestseller lists. She is a three-time recipient of a Maggie Award for Excellence, sponsored by Georgia Romance Writers, and has won several awards from the reviewers of RT Book Reviews.

In special memory of my book-loving mother, a lifelong Harlequin fan. One of her favorite verses was, “I will lift up my eyes unto the hills, from which cometh my strength.” She passed along her love of both romance and the mountains to me.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Excerpt

Chapter One

Early-morning fog danced in wispy tendrils outside the bay window of the breakfast nook, making the rural, southwestern Virginia landscape resemble a dreamy watercolor. Leaning against the cherry window frame, Kinley Carmichael sipped cinnamon-laced coffee and studied the pink-and-gray sunrise framed by lace curtains. Her sentimental younger sister, Bonnie, would see that lovely spring view and sigh, thinking of fairy tales and romance. Practical and pragmatic Kinley saw an excellent photo-op for the Bride Mountain Inn website. In fact, maybe tomorrow morning she’d head out early with her camera in hopes of capturing a similar scene for advertising purposes, aiming to appeal to potential guests looking for quiet relaxation in pristine, natural surroundings...just the ambiance the inn aimed to provide.

She almost laughed when the wistful sigh she’d predicted sounded from behind her. “Isn’t it beautiful?” Bonnie asked in little more than a whisper, her tone almost reverent. “Even after living here just over two years, I never get tired of seeing that view first thing in the morning.”

“That view would make a perfect cover for a marketing brochure. I’m considering going out in the morning with my camera to try to capture it.”

Bonnie gave her a teasingly chiding look. “You can’t capture magic, Kinley.”

“I can try,” she answered cheerily. “And then I’ll do my best to package and sell it.”

Bonnie’s second sigh was more resigned than romanticized. With her blond hair, blue eyes and flawless skin, she looked a bit like a porcelain doll and had the perfect, petite figure to match. She wore her favored uniform of a pretty, lace-trimmed top and a gauzy skirt, adding to her vaguely old-world appeal. Her delicate appearance and openly sentimental nature led some people to think she was meek and easily pushed around. Those people were wrong. Behind that sweet face was a sharp mind and a fierce resolve that both her siblings could attest to. Though she was the youngest, it was wholly due to Bonnie’s determination and insistence that the three of them were now running the bed-and-breakfast together.

As close as they were, the two sisters had always been very different in nature. Even their choice of clothing illustrated those dissimilarities, Kinley thought fondly. In contrast to Bonnie’s soft, floaty garments, Kinley wore gray slacks with a gray-and-white shell and a pearl-gray three-quarter-sleeve cardigan suitable for the cool spring morning. Bonnie had once accused her of dressing as if she were always expecting an impromptu business meeting, and Kinley supposed that was accurate enough. But her tailored style suited her just fine.

Peering out the window again, Bonnie nodded toward a particularly foggy patch in the garden, near the tall, graceful fountain. “Look at the way the fog swirls just there, almost as if it’s alive. Do you think if you set your camera on a tripod and used a very slow lens speed, you’d catch a peek of the bride hiding in the mist?”

Kinley glanced automatically toward the open kitchen doorway, making sure no guests had overheard her sister’s fanciful speculation. “Don’t even joke about that. You know how I feel about that old legend being connected to the inn.”

“You have no whimsy, Kinley.”

“So you keep saying.” The mostly forgotten legend had long been a sore spot between them. During the past hundred years or so, there had been a few reported sightings on Bride Mountain of a ghostly woman dressed all in white who appeared in the mist to newly engaged couples. An old local story speculated that those who were lucky enough to spot the bride were meant to live happily ever after. Bonnie had initially suggested that reviving the legend could be a charming way to promote the wedding services they offered at Bride Mountain Inn. Kinley and their cynical older brother, Logan, had firmly vetoed that idea, both wary of the clientele who would potentially be attracted to their inn by a ghost story.

Bonnie shrugged. “You can believe what you want. I still like to think that Uncle Leo and Aunt Helen really did see the bride on the night he proposed to her in the garden.”

Kinley shook her head indulgently. “Uncle Leo just loved seeing your reaction to that story every time he told it to you. You were always his favorite,” she added without resentment.

Bonnie had fallen in love with the inn as a child when their mother had brought them for frequent visits with their great-uncle Leo Finley, the second-generation owner of the place. Kinley had been eleven years old, Logan twelve and Bonnie only eight when Leo’s beloved wife, their great-aunt Helen, had died following a brief illness. Afterward, Leo had closed the bed-and-breakfast, having lost the heart to keep it open, though he hadn’t been willing to sell it, either. He’d lived alone in the former inn for the next eighteen years, doing basic maintenance but letting the place run down a bit as both he and the building had grown older. When he’d died two and a half years ago, he’d left it all equally to his only surviving family, his late niece’s three now-grown children.

Bonnie had dreamed almost all her life of reopening the inn, and had even majored in hotel management in college as preparation. She had begged, cajoled and bullied her older siblings into joining her in this undertaking when the property became theirs—and because both Kinley and Logan had been at crossroads in their lives at that time, they had allowed themselves to be persuaded.

Still the compulsive overachiever she’d always been, Kinley was as determined as her sister to make a success of the venture. For her, the inn was a test of her competence, her business acumen. A practical use for her business and real-estate degrees, and a way to boost her confidence that had been bruised in a painful divorce. A fresh start, a new challenge, a new life. For Logan, it was just a job, a way to pay the bills and still be his own boss. For Bonnie, it was simply what made her happy.

Opening one of the two large ovens in the top-of-the-line kitchen, Bonnie drew out a delicious-smelling breakfast casserole. She’d assembled two of the large dishes last night and had only needed to pop them in the oven this morning. She would serve them with sliced fruit and the bran muffins now browning in the second oven. Yogurt and cold cereals were also available upon request. Bonnie loved spoiling their guests.

Kinley glanced at her watch. Breakfast would be served in the adjoining dining room at seven, just a few minutes away. “I’ll help you set up.”

Bonnie sent a smile over her shoulder as she carried the casserole dish into the other room. “Thanks. Rhoda seems to be running a little late this morning.”

“What else is new?” Kinley muttered under her breath, loading a tray with serving dishes. Helping with breakfast service was not on her tightly arranged agenda for the day, but she had a little extra time built in for flexibility. Her siblings teased her often about trying to schedule unexpected developments.

She and Bonnie were both fond of Rhoda Foley, the full-time housekeeper who had worked for them since they’d reopened the inn, but their employee definitely marched to her own drummer—not to mention her own clock. Rhoda was a hard worker, tackling everything from cleaning to decorating to helping with meal service, as needed, but she was a little quirky, to say the least. “You need to talk with her again, Bonnie. We have the Sossaman-Thompson wedding this weekend, and everything must run smoothly. You’re going to need Rhoda’s help. And that travel writer, Dan Phelan, is coming tomorrow. It’s important that everything has to look perfect while he’s here. We could get a ton of bookings from his article in Modern South magazine, assuming he enjoys his time here as much as we hope he does, of course.”

Bonnie chuckled. “Of course. Piece of cake.”

Placing the food in silver-plated chafing dishes on the antique serving sideboard, Kinley looked around in satisfaction at the airy dining room decorated in traditional Southern style. Rather than one long, stuffy table, they’d utilized four round tables in the big room, each seating six. Silver candlesticks, snowy linens and fragrant flowers in crystal vases decorated the tables, which sat on an antique carpet and were illuminated by an antique silver-plate and crystal chandelier salvaged from an old Virginia plantation house. The chandelier had hung in this room since her great-grandfather built the inn, though Bonnie had it refurbished when they’d restored the place for reopening.

Despite the formal touches, the room was cozy, warm, welcoming. As was the rest of the inn that had been lovingly and painstakingly restored before they’d officially opened for business just over a year ago.

“How could he not write a positive review?” Kinley smiled fondly at her sister. “Every inch of the inn is beautiful, the service is superb, the setting idyllic. There’s nothing negative to write. Almost all thanks to you, by the way. I plan to impress the old guy with my business facts and figures, you’ll charm the bow tie off him and Logan...well, maybe Logan should just work quietly in the background,” she added with a wry laugh.

Stepping back to eye the sideboard with a thoroughly appraising glance, Bonnie asked absently, “What makes you think he’s an easily charmed old man with a bow tie?”

“I have no idea what he’s like. I’m just teasing.” Kinley moved out of the way when the first group of four guests wandered in, a young couple who were checking out the inn as a potential site for their wedding in the fall and the bride-to-be’s mother and sister. Kinley had a meeting scheduled with them later that day, so she simply bade them good morning and left them to enjoy their breakfast. They were followed in not long afterward by Lon and Jan Mayberry, a blissful pair of honeymooners in their late forties, and by Travis Cross and Gordon Monroe, a pleasant couple enjoying a long-weekend escape from their stressful jobs in Richmond. A nice group, Kinley thought. She always enjoyed visiting with friendly guests of the inn, though Bonnie usually got to know them better than she did.

Two hours later she helped her sister clear away the remains of the breakfast buffet. Rhoda had still not made an appearance, nor had she answered her cell phone when Bonnie tried to call. They were going to get serious about trying to find her if she didn’t show up soon. Rhoda’s timing wasn’t exactly dependable, but she never just skipped a day at work without at least calling. Bonnie said she would drive to Rhoda’s house if she still hadn’t shown up by nine-thirty.

The last of the breakfast diners lingered over coffee at their tables, discussing plans for the day in low voices, admiring the gardens visible through the big dining-room windows, looking full and content. Four of the seven guest suites were occupied on this Thursday morning and all but one of the rooms were booked for the weekend, counting the one the travel writer had reserved. The Sossaman wedding would take place Saturday afternoon and the bride and groom had agreed to allow the writer to include photos from the ceremony in his article. The weather prediction was for a nice, clear day. Forsythia, irises, tulips, creeping phlox and early-blooming roses had thrived in the nice temperatures of the past couple of weeks in May, adding splashes of vivid color to the bright green leaves on the trees surrounding the wedding gazebo in the back garden.

Everything was perfect, she assured herself, refilling her coffee cup and taking a bracing sip. Or at least as perfect as she and her siblings could make it appear to be in front of their guests—one travel writer, in particular.

Lost in her fantasy of a glowing write-up followed by a flood of bookings and accolades, she jumped dramatically when a loud, jarring crash came from the front of the inn. A couple of guests gasped, and one gave a startled little screech. Hot coffee splashed over the rim of Kinley’s cup. She hissed a curse, quickly setting down the cup and shaking her stinging hand. She was running toward the front of the inn before the sound of the crash fully faded away.

Grimacing, she threw open the front door and viewed the scene outside as Bonnie groaned behind her in despair.

An old pickup truck had slammed into the front post of the portico that jutted out from the front of the inn to provide cover for unloading cars at the front door. The post had splintered in half and now that whole corner of the shingled portico sagged dangerously downward. The top half of the post, along with some small debris, had landed on the now badly dented pickup.

Rhoda climbed out of the driver’s seat of the truck, shoving a broken piece of gingerbread trim out of the way. Her curly salt-and-pepper hair was wildly disheveled around her plain face, but she looked uninjured, to Kinley’s relief.

“I’m so sorry,” Rhoda called out the minute she was clear of her wrecked truck. “I overslept and I’d forgotten to charge my phone so I couldn’t call you. I stupidly glanced at my watch just as I started to drive under the portico and I misjudged the turn. I’m okay, but I’m so sorry. I have insurance. It will cover the damage, of course.”

Reaching the older woman first, Kinley caught her nervously flailing hands in a calming grip. “You’re sure you’re all right? Should we take you to be checked out? I can drive or we can call an ambulance.”

Rhoda shook her head vehemently. “No, I’m fine. Really. I was wearing my seat belt and I wasn’t going very fast. The truck’s too old for an air bag, so at least I didn’t get hit in the face with one of those. Just got a fright when it hit, that’s all.”

“You’re lucky the whole portico didn’t come down on you.”

“I know.”

“Hey! Everyone get back.” Logan came running around one corner of the inn, waving an arm to punctuate his order to the gawkers now gathered in the open doorway. “No one should stand under the portico until I make sure it’s fully supported again. Bonnie, lock the front door and have your guests use the side entrance for now.”

“I’m so sorry, Logan.” Rhoda pulled her hands from Kinley’s comforting grasp and began to twist them in front of her. “I’ll move my truck.”

“No.” Stopping nearby, Logan pushed a hand through his slightly shaggy brown hair as he surveyed the damage with a frown. “Let me handle it.”

Having obligingly moved out from under the portico, Kinley turned to look again, wincing at the sight. It could have been much worse, she assured herself. At least only one post was broken, so the whole portico hadn’t come down. But still, it looked sad sagging that way, some of the delicate gingerbread trim dangling precariously.

“We have a wedding Saturday,” she reminded her brother. “Rehearsal is tomorrow evening.”

He nodded. “I’ll put in a call to Hank Charles. I’m pretty sure he made an extra post when we commissioned him to craft these, just so he’d have the pattern if he needed it again. If he still has it, we’ll get it delivered and installed as quickly as possible.”

Kinley put a hand to her head with a sudden groan. “That travel writer is due tomorrow morning. He’s going to be taking photographs of the inn. I don’t suppose there’s any way...?”

“Oh, hon, I’m so sorry,” Rhoda moaned again.

His unshaven jaw clenching, Logan nodded shortly. “I’ll do what I can.”

A black car came up the drive and stopped in the guest parking area. Wondering who would be arriving this early on a Thursday, Kinley glanced that way. A tall, dark-haired man who appeared to be in his early thirties—and in excellent physical condition, she couldn’t help noting—climbed out of the driver’s seat and paused to study the commotion around the front of the inn. She didn’t recognize him. He was dressed casually in somewhat rumpled khakis and a dark green cotton shirt with the cuffs rolled back at the wrists. He didn’t look like a salesman, nor a traveler looking for a room. After a moment, he moved toward them.

As harried as she was by Rhoda’s accident and the resulting mess, Kinley was startled by the instant jolt of pulse-tripping physical awareness that shot through her when the newcomer smiled at her. She’d have thought she’d be too distracted to be dumbfounded by a sexy grin, but apparently her recently dormant feminine instincts were still alive and healthy. Shoving those ill-timed responses to the back of her mind, she pasted on as professional an expression as possible under the circumstances and greeted him. “May I help you?”

He met her eyes, and she noted that his were very blue, intriguingly so in contrast with his longish dark hair and tanned skin. Wow. She had to force herself to resist automatically checking his ring finger. When he spoke, it was in a pleasantly deep voice that only strengthened her immediate attraction to him. “Are you Kinley Carmichael?”

Even the way he said her name gave her a little thrill. How odd. “Yes, I am. What can I do for you?”

Something about his sweeping glance before he answered made her self-conscious—but not in a bad way. The hint of reciprocated approval in this great-looking guy’s expression was a nice little boost to her ego.

His smile deepened, pushing a slash of delicious dimples into his tanned cheeks. “I’m Dan Phelan. I know you didn’t expect me until tomorrow, but I found myself ahead of schedule. I—ah—hope I didn’t arrive at an inconvenient time.”

Kinley felt her heart sink abruptly. The quick flush of pleasure changed abruptly to dismay. The travel writer hadn’t been scheduled to arrive until tomorrow. She had wanted everything to be so perfect when he arrived. Why had he shown up at just this inopportune moment?

It was only nine o’clock, she thought in silent despair. What more could possibly go wrong today?

* * *

Though she immediately schooled her expression, it was apparent to Dan that Kinley Carmichael had recognized his name, and that she hadn’t been happy to hear it. Considering he’d obviously shown up in the middle of a crisis, he couldn’t blame her, but he had to admit it piqued his pride to have an attractive woman appear so distressed by meeting him.

He wouldn’t have labeled Kinley a classic beauty, but he liked the look of her oval face framed by an angular, gold-streaked brown bob, gray-blue eyes that met his with a directness he found refreshing and a mouth with a full lower lip that could only be described as kissable. She was on the tallish side, maybe five-eight, with long legs and a slender figure more aptly defined as athletic than voluptuous. Just his type—though the way her eyes had darkened when he introduced himself was hardly an auspicious beginning.

A fiftysomething woman in a peasant top, faded jeans and sandals, her wildly curling hair more gray than dark, looked from Kinley to Dan and then gasped in sudden comprehension. “You’re not the travel writer, are you? The one who’s supposed to come tomorrow?”

He nodded. “My itinerary changed unexpectedly. If there’s no room available for me here tonight, I’ll stay somewhere nearby and come back tomorrow.”

Her smile firmly in place again, Kinley spoke up. “Of course we have a room for you, Mr. Phelan. We’re delighted to have you.”

He had to admire the warmth she managed to inject into the welcome despite the dismay he’d seen pass fleetingly through her eyes. Though it had caught her off guard when he’d shown up a day early, his first impression of Kinley was that she was not easily rattled.

“Please, call me Dan.” He glanced again at the damaged truck and portico. “I seem to have arrived at a bad time.”

“It’s my fault,” the older woman said firmly. “I hit the post. The inn is usually immaculate. Beautiful. The Carmichaels run a first-class operation. Don’t you dare write a bad review because of my negligence!”

The way she shook her finger at him reminded him of his favorite childhood nanny, Adele. She’d had a way of making her displeasure known with just a judicious wave of that slightly bent finger. Of all the string of nannies his generally disengaged parents had hired to look after him, Adele was the only one he recalled very clearly. That memory made him smile as he murmured, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Kinley placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder and Dan saw her give a little squeeze. “It was an accident, Rhoda. No one is blaming you. We’re all relieved that you weren’t hurt. Dan, this is Rhoda Foley, who works with us here at the inn.”

Despite the awkward circumstances, Kinley made it clear that she was standing by her employee. Dan saw no evidence of irritation with the older woman, merely a matter-of-fact acceptance and what seemed to be genuine concern for her well-being. Nor did he think Kinley’s kindness was put on for his benefit. Rhoda’s fierce loyalty to her employers was apparent. His positive first impression of Kinley bumped up another notch.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Ms. Foley.”

She mumbled a reply, though she continued to shoot looks of warning at him.

Kinley cleared her throat. “Rhoda, why don’t you go inside and have a cup of tea to calm your nerves while Logan takes care of your truck?”

Having sent the older woman on her way, she turned back to the men. “Dan, this is my brother, Logan Carmichael.”

Though he saw the family resemblance as they briefly shook hands, Dan noted that Logan’s features were more roughly carved than his sister’s, his jaw squared beneath a three-day growth of dark beard. His brown hair was a shade darker than Kinley’s, and his eyes were hazel, shadowed with what appeared to be a permanent frown. Maybe it was just the damage to the inn that made him look so stern, but Dan suspected Kinley’s brother wasn’t the lighthearted type even under the best of circumstances.

A petite blonde with a sweet face and angelic smile came out the side door of the inn and approached them. “I’ve got Rhoda settled down in the kitchen with some tea. Logan, do you need me to make any calls for you?”

Logan shrugged. “I’ll get the guys to help me start the repairs right away. You can deal with the insurance.”

“Dan, this is our sister, Bonnie,” Kinley said. “Bonnie, meet Dan Phelan, the writer for Modern South magazine. He’s going to be spending an extra day with us. Isn’t that nice?”

Dan couldn’t help but be amused by Kinley’s too-cheery tone. Though she was doing her best to hide it, he would bet she thought it was anything but nice that he’d shown up twenty-four hours early.

If Bonnie was as displeased as her sister, it wasn’t evident in her pleasant expression. She bore only a faint resemblance to her siblings, her eyes a deep blue, her coloring fair, her stature more compact. Striking had been the first adjective to pop into his mind with Kinley. He would have described Bonnie as pretty. Yet his attention continued to be focused primarily on Kinley, even as Bonnie spoke to him. “Rhoda told me you were here. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Phelan. Welcome to our inn.”

“It’s Dan. And thank you. It’s a beautiful place.”

He wasn’t just being polite. Despite the current minor damage, the inn really was lovely. The multibayed Queen Anne–style building was surrounded by an inviting wraparound porch that opened onto the drive-through portico. The siding was a pale gray, the trim pristine white. The front door was painted a bright red and featured leaded-glass inserts and sidelights. A stained glass half-round window above the now-sagging portico drew the eye upward to the peaked, shingled roof against the bright blue sky. Colorful spring flowers bloomed in several tidy beds, and the Blue Ridge Mountains, draped in rapidly dissipating morning fog, formed a spectacular backdrop for it all. Compared to those distant peaks, Bride Mountain was little more than a foothill, but the view was breathtaking.

Bonnie motioned apologetically toward the broken post. “As you can see, we’ve had a little mishap this morning, but fortunately no one was injured and my brother will see that it’s quickly repaired. Please come in through the side door. Breakfast service ended at nine, but I’m sure I can find something for you if you’re hungry.”

“I’ve eaten already, thank you.”

“Coffee, then?”

“Sounds good. I’ll just get my bags.”

“Um—let me get them for you,” Logan offered, not doing a particularly good job of hiding his reluctance.

Because he’d seen Kinley give her brother a sharp nudge, Dan fought a grin as he declined politely. “I’ll let you get to your repairs. I’ll carry my own bags. I pack light.”

Nodding rather curtly, Logan turned back to the damaged portico, already lifting his cell phone to his ear to summon assistance.

“I’ll help you bring in your things,” Kinley offered, subtly directing Dan away from the portico damage and leaving her brother to deal with it. “I’ll show you up to your room and then give you the grand tour when you’re ready.”

“I’d like that,” he said, his gaze focused on her face.

She paused a moment, her head slightly tilted as she met his eyes, and he wondered if she had sensed his immediate attraction to her. But she merely smiled and nodded, speaking in the same briskly professional voice she’d used before. “Let’s get your bags, and I’ll take you in through the side door.”

The disarray outside could not be in starker contrast to the tidy inside of Bride Mountain Inn. The side door opened into the dining area rather than the front foyer. As he followed Kinley through the big room, Dan’s gaze was drawn to the large, sparklingly clean back windows that overlooked the gardens and the distant mountains. The room was airy, immaculate and immediately welcoming. It was easy to imagine himself lingering over coffee at one of the round tables and watching the sky brighten over the flowers, fountain and charming Queen Anne gazebo behind the inn.

She led him into the entryway that would have been his first sight of the place had he come in the front door. The matching leaded-glass sidelights on either side of the door flooded the wood-floored foyer with morning sunlight. A small antique reception desk held a big bouquet of fresh flowers, and an old-fashioned mail cubby on the papered wall behind the desk reinforced the old-world-inn feel to the place. Sparkling crystals dangled from the chandelier that lit the two-story space, and a curving, wood-banistered stairway led upstairs.

“Very nice,” he commented.

Kinley’s quick grin looked more natural than the professional smiles she’d forced after he’d identified himself to her. His initial attraction to her doubled in response. He reminded himself that he was here for business reasons, that he tried to remain objective about the subjects of his articles despite his generally laid-back approach to his job. He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. The past couple of weeks had been stressful. Maybe he was just tired, and a little too susceptible at the moment to a pretty face and an approving smile. He needed a strong cup of coffee, a brisk walk and maybe a nap, after which he was sure he’d have himself under better control.

After plucking a key from behind the desk, Kinley moved toward the stairs. “This way,” she said and started up, his computer bag slung over her shoulder.

Carrying a small suitcase in his right hand and a garment bag in the other, he followed. Despite his best efforts, his gaze lingered on the slight sway of her slender hips as she preceded him. He’d always had a thing for slim hips and long legs...

Shaking his head in self-reproach, he made himself raise his eyes. Maybe he’d have two cups of strong coffee, followed by a very long walk to clear his mind. He could just hear his managing editor—who also happened to be his cousin—lecturing him that lusting after his hostess was no way to start an assignment.

Kinley unlocked the third door on the right at the top of the stairs and escorted him inside. The suite was as immaculate as he had come to expect of this place. The furniture was dark wood in Colonial style, the linens pale yellow trimmed in rich cream. A writing desk, flat-screen television, comfortable-looking chair and ottoman, and a minifridge were among the amenities. A small but luxurious private bathroom was stocked with high-end toiletries and supplies. More fresh flowers in a crystal vase adorned the nightstand, along with a bowl of fresh fruit. The view was spectacular. The last traces of fog had burned off, though he thought he glimpsed a lingering wisp near the large fountain that highlighted the flower garden.

He set his bags on the floor near the Colonial dresser. “I have to say the inn is really beautiful.”

He was rewarded by another of Kinley’s bright smiles. “Thank you. My sister loves decorating and took charge of most of the restoration before we reopened eighteen months ago. Most of what you see is her work.”

Reaching out to take his computer bag from her, he nodded toward her as he set the bag on the desk. “And what do you love to do?”

She answered without hesitation. “I like the business side of running the inn. The marketing, events planning, bookings, that sort of thing. It’s a challenge, and I’ve always enjoyed a challenge.”

“So do I,” he murmured without looking away from her. The enthusiasm in her eyes when she talked of her work made him wonder what other passions excited her. After all, he was a healthy, straight, definitely single male.

As if she’d somehow gotten an inkling of the direction his wayward thoughts had taken, her left eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch. She studied him for a moment with a heightened awareness in her expression—not nerves, he decided, but a hint of intrigue. At least, he thought he was reading her correctly.

He cleared his throat. “You said something about coffee?”

It was much too early for anything stronger. He could only hope a strong shot of caffeine would clear his uncharacteristically cloudy head.

Kinley nodded and moved toward the door. “Join me in the dining room whenever you’re ready. We’ll have coffee, then take that tour I promised.”

“I’ll be right down.” Maybe he’d splash a little cold water on his face first.

* * *

“Where is he?” Bonnie asked in an exaggerated whisper as soon as Kinley came downstairs. She had found her sister lurking in the foyer, presumably ready to duck out of sight into the kitchen if Dan had accompanied Kinley down. None of the other guests were around at the moment.

Keeping her own voice low, Kinley replied, “He’ll be down in a few minutes for coffee and a tour. Fresh coffee ready?”

Bonnie nodded. “I warmed some of the leftover breakfast pastries, too, in case he wants a snack.”

Kinley gave her a thumbs-up sign of approval.

“Can you believe he showed up this morning, of all days?” Bonnie shook her head in dismay. “He couldn’t have timed his arrival more inconveniently if he’d tried.”

“No kidding,” Kinley murmured with a grimace. “A broken post and a sagging portico is hardly the first impression I wanted him to get of the inn. Not to mention that I’m going to have to rearrange my whole schedule now to work him into it today.”

“Logan promised it wouldn’t take long to fix the front. He said most of it would be done by the end of today, by noon tomorrow for sure.”

Kinley focused on the smartphone in her hand, on which she was busily making notes and rearranging scheduled time blocks. “I hope he’s right.”

Bonnie looked toward the staircase again. “You couldn’t have been more wrong in predicting what the travel writer would look like, by the way. He’s, like, the opposite of an older man in a bow tie.”

Without looking up from her phone, Kinley gave a short laugh. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Bonnie flashed a grin. “I thought you might have. He certainly seemed to notice you.”

Remembering that moment when her eyes had met Dan’s upstairs, Kinley cleared her throat. Okay, so maybe there’d been a moment of awareness. For a couple of heartbeats, she’d been tempted to give him a sultry smile, toss her hair, maybe flutter her lashes a bit—the standard signs that a woman was interested. Or at least, as best she could remember. It had been so long since she’d flirted with anyone that she wasn’t entirely sure she still knew how. She had let the opportunity pass, both because it would have been totally unprofessional of her to flirt with a guest of the inn, and because of her vested interest in the review he would write.

Before she could respond to her sister’s teasing, a noise from the stairway alerted her that the subject of their conversation was on his way down. She gave Bonnie a quick look of warning, then turned with a bright smile to greet Dan as he joined them. She’d hoped a few minutes away from him would have gotten her past that initial jolt of attraction, but seeing him bounding lightly down the stairs made her breath catch again. Something about this good-looking guy just got to her in a way no one else had in—well, longer than she could remember.

He carried a small black bag that probably held a camera, reminding her of why he was here. She mentally crossed her fingers that the noises drifting in from outside meant her brother was already busily restoring the front of the inn. Surely Dan would be content to take shots of the other areas of the inn until the front was picture-perfect again.

Sliding her phone into her pocket, she motioned toward the dining room. “Bonnie just told me she has a fresh pot of coffee and some pastries set out for us.”

He nodded. “Sounds great.”

As she accompanied him and her sister into the other room, Kinley smiled somewhat smugly. Bonnie’s pastries were locally renowned, one frequent guest going so far as to term them “heaven on a plate.” Dan already seemed impressed by his suite. After tasting her sister’s coffee and pastries, followed by a carefully guided tour of the place, he would undoubtedly be convinced that the inn deserved a glowing write-up.

From this point on, she was going to make sure his only impressions were positive ones. Just as she would make sure to keep her unexpected attraction to him under firm control. She’d had much more luck with business than with romance in the past, and she would do well to keep that in mind when it came to her dealings with this sexy writer.

Chapter Two

Kinley and Dan had just been seated at a window table with their coffee and a plate of pastries when a tall, broad-shouldered woman barged through the side door, followed by a younger, smaller woman and a preschool-age boy. With a slight wince, Kinley recognized the older woman as Eva Sossaman, the mother of the weekend’s bride-to-be, Serena Sossaman, who looked embarrassed as she trailed after her fuming mom.

“There you are.” Eva pointed a finger accusingly at Kinley. “I need to lodge a complaint about the condition of the inn.”

Of course she did. All too aware of Dan sitting there watching, Kinley rose to deal with the notoriously difficult client. Maybe she’d jinxed herself when she’d wondered what else could go wrong today. Considering how many hours remained until bedtime, she didn’t even want to think about the answer to that mental question.

She called on all her professional training to greet the indignant client with a cheery smile. “Good morning, Eva. And Serena. What can we do for you?”

“We came to take some photographs for Serena’s wedding book,” Eva replied firmly. In all Kinley’s meetings with them since booking the wedding several months earlier, Eva had almost always been the one to speak up while Serena had pretty much acquiesced to her mother’s wishes. “We just saw the front of the inn and we are appalled. Surely you don’t expect our guests to be greeted by that mess outside.”

“There was a small accident this morning, but my brother is working on repairs now,” Kinley assured her. “He promised me that everything will be in place for the wedding. Your guests won’t even know what happened by the time they arrive Saturday.”

“I hope you’re right,” Eva snapped. “We’ve told everyone that the wedding venue is worthy of Serena’s wedding and I would hate to be proven wrong.”

“You won’t be,” Bonnie said, moving to stand closer to Kinley. “Everything is absolutely on track for the wedding and our brother will make sure the grounds are ready. Even the weather forecasts are perfect, which is always a gamble this time of year. Serena’s wedding is going to be beautiful.”

“Ladies, I’d like to introduce you to Dan Phelan,” Kinley said before Eva could voice any more complaints. “Dan is the writer for Modern South who contacted you about observing your wedding, Serena. Dan, this is our bride-to-be, Serena Sossaman and her mother, Eva.”

Eva’s scowl transformed immediately into a beaming smile, as Kinley had hoped it might. Barely giving Serena a chance to murmur a nice-to-meet-you, she nudged her daughter aside and offered her right hand to Dan in a regal gesture. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Phelan. We’re delighted to have you as a guest at my daughter’s wedding. I know you’ll write a lovely story about it. We’ve worked very hard for the past year planning every detail.”

Dan shook her hand only long enough for civility, though his tone was cordial enough. “I’m sure the wedding will be beautiful. But you should understand that I’m here to write about the inn and other local attractions, and why future couples would want to book events here. I’ll use your daughter’s wedding only as an example of the services offered here.”

A loud thump from the table made everyone turn instinctively to look. Eva’s almost-five-year-old grandson had helped himself to a pastry from the plate and was cramming it enthusiastically into his mouth, scattering crumbs and smearing glaze across his face. Added to the stress of the preparations for the rapidly approaching wedding, Eva was babysitting her grandson while his travel-agent parents were away on a business trip. Kinley had been assured by Eva that the trip had been unavoidable, but Serena’s brother and sister-in-law had promised to be back the day before the wedding. Eva sighed loudly. “Grayson, you know you’re supposed to ask Grandmother before you touch anything.”

The boy glanced at her, but didn’t slow down on his munching. Eva turned back to Dan. “Grayson is my son’s child. He is going to be the ring bearer, aren’t you, darling?”

“I’m thirsty,” the boy said around a mouthful of soggy pastry.

“I’ll get you a glass of milk,” Bonnie offered, pulling out a chair for him and offering him a napkin. “Eva, Serena, can I get you some coffee? Or iced tea, perhaps? Feel free to help yourself to a pastry, if you like.”

Taking advantage of the opportunity to escape, Kinley spoke to Dan. “Why don’t I show you around while Bonnie chats with Serena and her mother? If you ladies will excuse us.”

Without giving Eva a chance to detain them longer, Kinley took Dan’s arm to rush him out of the dining room and into the foyer.

He smiled knowingly at her when they were alone. “A challenging customer, huh?”

Because she would never gossip about a customer, Kinley merely smiled. “We do our best to satisfy even the most exacting client. I’m sure Serena and her mother will be very happy with the services we’ll provide for the wedding Saturday. Now, shall we begin our tour? I thought we’d start inside and then view the gardens.”

Taking her cue to change the subject, Dan slipped into a professional manner that matched hers. He removed a small camera from the bag he slung over his shoulder by a thin strap. “Maybe you’d like to stand beside the reception desk? I want to take some preliminary photos during our tour. I’ll try to capture the welcoming atmosphere of this foyer. That chandelier is great, by the way.”

Kinley automatically straightened her cardigan as she moved to the desk. Though she hadn’t been prepared specifically for photos today, she felt somewhat vindicated in her style choices by knowing her outfit was quite appropriate for a magazine shot. Maybe she’d have added a bit more color had she known, but this would do.

“The chandelier is original to the inn,” she said. “As is the desk.”

Dan was already focusing on her, his gaze fixed on the camera screen. She didn’t see how he was going to get the chandelier in that shot, but maybe he just wanted a close-up of her and the desk this time.

“I read the history of the inn you emailed me,” he commented absently, still looking at her image on the screen. “Built by your great-grandfather in the mid-1930s. He and his wife ran it until their son, Leo Finley, eventually took it over. Leo kept the inn open until his wife died some twenty years ago, after which it was closed until you and your brother and sister inherited the place.”

She smiled in approval. “You did read the history.”

After snapping a couple more shots, he looked up from the camera. “I try to be prepared.”

She nodded. “That’s my motto, too.”

He chuckled. “Why does that not surprise me?”

They grinned at each other in a moment of silent communication that felt oddly like bonding—as if they already knew each other, in a way, even though they’d met only an hour or so earlier. Brushing off such uncharacteristic foolishness, she stepped away from the desk and motioned toward the staircase as she went back into her tour-guide spiel. “We have five suites upstairs, the other four very similar to yours. Two handicap-accessible suites are on this main floor. We aren’t set up for children, so we accept only guests over the age of twelve. We direct callers with younger children to several local motels that are more family oriented.”

“A nice little perk for your guests who want to get away from kids,” he murmured.

She nodded and continued, “Bonnie lives full-time downstairs in the basement apartment. It’s accessible only from the outside, to keep it separate from the inn. Uncle Leo converted it into living quarters for himself and his wife many years ago, and that was where he continued to live even after he closed the inn. We had it renovated for Bonnie’s use. We use the attic for storage.”

“You don’t live here?”

Leading him toward the common parlor, she shook her head. “I spend the night downstairs occasionally, especially when we want to get an early start the next day, but I rent a house nearby.”

“And your brother?”

“Logan lives in the caretaker’s cottage at the back of the property, just down the hillside from the gazebo.”

Dan nodded thoughtfully. “So you all work together but you’ve managed to maintain private residences. Good idea.”

She smiled over her shoulder before entering the room they called the parlor. “We know that even the closest of siblings should give each other plenty of space, especially if they want to remain close.”

“I don’t have any siblings, myself, but that sounds like a reasonable philosophy.”

“We think so.” Entering the parlor, she greeted the couple who sat on one of the comfortable sofas, both studying the screen of a tablet computer one of them held. They looked up when she and Dan came into the room. “Dan, this is Travis Cross and Gordon Monroe, who are visiting us for a few days. Guys, meet Dan Phelan, a travel writer who’s staying in room 203.”

After exchanging polite greetings, Gordon explained, “Travis and I were just looking at a list of nearby attractions, trying to decide how to spend the day. We’re thinking about driving down to Wytheville and checking out a few of the museums.”

“Good choice,” Kinley assured them. The inn was located close to the Blacksburg-Christiansburg-Radford area, bordered by the Blue Ridge Mountains on the south and the Allegheny Mountains to the north. Historic Wytheville was less than an hour’s drive south. She would be sure and encourage Dan to mention the many local attractions in his article.

Travis and Gordon obligingly posed in conversation with Kinley for Dan to snap a few photos of the common room in use. Dan thanked them for their cooperation, but Kinley could tell the couple rather liked the idea of appearing in the magazine. Dan chose several angles to maximize the view of the room Bonnie had decorated in inviting Southern style. Kinley considered igniting the gas logs for the photos, but decided to leave it alone for now. Maybe they would take more photos in here before he left, perhaps with a crackling fire in the background.

Two games tables were positioned at the far side of the room, and an eclectic assortment of games were displayed on nearby shelves. As Travis and Gordon departed for their museum outing, Kinley explained to Dan that almost every evening guests gathered around those tables for games and socializing. “They tell us it’s nice to simply unplug their electronics for a few hours and play some old-fashioned board games, face-to-face with other people.”

“I’d like to get a shot of your guests playing the games, if no one objects. I happen to like game nights myself.”

That didn’t particularly surprise her. Dan seemed like the social type. That was probably a benefit to him in his travel-writing job, making it easy for him to draw out his interview subjects. Not that he’d had to resort to that talent with her. She’d had her sales spiel ready from the moment she’d received notice that the inn would be featured in the magazine.

Continuing in that vein, she motioned toward the doorway. “Ready to see the grounds?”

“Absolutely,” he assured her with a smile that almost made her forget her practiced presentation.

Okay, so she hadn’t expected the writer to be quite this interesting on his own. Hadn’t been prepared to get so lost in his vivid blue eyes that she had to pause for a moment to remember which way to turn upon leaving the parlor. Could not have predicted that her skin would warm and her breath would hitch a bit when he reached around her to open the back door, his arm brushing her shoulder with the gesture. It was so very rare that anyone managed to sidetrack her that she wasn’t quite sure how to process that.

* * *

Dan was obligingly attentive as Kinley led him along the paths through the gardens. She pointed out the invitingly placed swings and benches and the secluded, nicely shaded nook that would eventually be called the Meditation Garden, which would incorporate a koi pond and perhaps a couple of nice sculpture pieces. Beyond that section was the starting point for a moderately challenging hiking trail through the woods to the peak of Bride Mountain and then around to the bottom and back up to the inn, just over six miles start to finish.

He snapped a photo of the trailhead sign. “I suppose you’ve made that hike a few times.”

She chuckled. “I could just about walk it blindfolded by now. My brother and sister and I used to love hiking the trail when we visited here as kids.”

Lowering his camera, he turned back to her, studying her face as he leaned one shoulder against an oak tree trunk in a casually comfortable pose that suited his easy tone. “The inn was closed during most of your childhood, wasn’t it? Do you remember it being open to guests?”

She glanced toward the back of the inn. A row of wooden rockers lined the long back porch. Only the honeymooners sat there now, rocking, sipping tea, chatting and watching Kinley give the tour. She could almost picture her younger self and her late mom sitting there rocking and drinking lemonade and enjoying the sounds of a lazy summer afternoon while Logan tagged behind Leo doing maintenance chores and Bonnie played innkeeper with her dolls. The image was bittersweet, making her smile even as her heart ached with missing her mother.

“I was eleven when my great-uncle closed the place after my great-aunt died, so I have some vague recollections of it being open to guests.”

“Do you remember your great-aunt well?”

“Yes. She was a very sweet woman. Uncle Leo adored her. He never fully recovered from losing her, though he led a quiet, comfortable life here after she died. He always seemed to enjoy our visits. He and our mother—his only niece—were close, and he was very fond of us. He and Aunt Helen never had children of their own, so he sort of claimed our mom as his honorary daughter and us as surrogate grandchildren.”

“Does your mother still spend time with you here?”

“We lost our mother three years ago, a little less than a year before Uncle Leo died. She was only fifty-eight. It was very unexpected.” She had tried to speak matter-of-factly, but she suspected he heard the faint catch of grief in her voice. She was still feeling a bit misty about that mental image of her mother on the porch.

The quick look of distress in his blue eyes let her know that he had, indeed, heard her pain. He reached out automatically to lay a hand on her shoulder, his palm warm and comforting through the thin fabric of her spring clothing. “I’m sorry, Kinley. I didn’t realize—”

With a hard swallow, she shook her head. “Thank-you. I guess I thought you already knew, for some reason.”

“No.”

She bent a bit too nonchalantly to gently brush a grasshopper off one leg of her slacks, which served the purpose of dislodging Dan’s hand from her shoulder. She found it difficult to think clearly and professionally with him touching her that way. Not that she minded, exactly, but better to choose prudence than to let an unguarded moment get away from her.

He shifted obligingly away from her, putting a more comfortable distance between. “Is your father still living?”

Nodding, she straightened, tucking her hands into the pockets of her sweater. “Dad’s somewhat of a restless spirit. He and Mom divorced when I was seven and he’s traveled a lot since, all around the globe. We see him once a year or so and he calls a couple times a month. He has zero interest in being tied down to any one place, such as running an inn.”

She and her siblings had long since acknowledged that their father was never going to change, and had learned to accept their relationship with him for what it was. Cordial, but distant. Disappointing, of course. She was certain that Logan had resented not having his father in his life, though he kept those feelings to himself for the most part, and she thought Bonnie had bonded so closely with Uncle Leo partially to fill that void. As for herself, she’d wondered occasionally if her unsatisfactory connection with her dad had anything to do with her poor choices regarding her unsuccessful marriage, but she didn’t let herself dwell on that too often. Now was certainly not the time to do so, she reminded herself, focusing instead on the conversation with Dan.

“None of his kids inherited his wanderlust?”

“I suppose not, though I enjoy taking vacations occasionally. Moving from Tennessee to Virginia to take over the inn was a big adventure for us,” she added with a wry laugh.

He fidgeted with his camera. “I guess I have something in common with your dad. I tend to get restless in one place, myself.”

She told herself she wasn’t disappointed to hear that. Why would she be? Keeping her expression politely interested, she said, “I suppose that’s why you chose to be a travel writer.”

He grinned. “Well, that—and the fact that my cousin is the managing editor for the magazine. Like you, I can credit family connections for my current career.”

Her eyes narrowed. He’d spoken teasingly, but she couldn’t entirely help getting a bit defensive. “We may have gotten our jobs because of family connections, but we are successful at them because of hard work and training,” she said, not quite achieving the light tone she attempted.

He seemed to realize his lame joke had fallen flat. “It’s obvious that you work extremely hard here. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”

She nodded somewhat stiffly.

Dan made a slow circle to study the grounds. “You’ve done a great job renovating the place. I can picture it looking very much like this back in the mid-1900s.”

He was trying so earnestly to make up for his gaffe that she couldn’t help softening a little. “That’s the goal. It’s an ongoing project, of course, but we’re pleased with the progress we’ve made so far. Let me show you our wedding facilities now.”

Shifting his camera to his other hand, he nodded with what might have been relief. “I’d like that.”

She backtracked to the deck, explaining that the wedding parties exited the inn through the back door, then descended the right-side stairs which led directly onto the wide, pebbled path to the Queen Anne gazebo. On wedding days, white folding chairs were arranged on either side of the path, forming a central aisle to the gazebo where the officiate would be waiting. Though subject to individual brides’ tastes, the decorations generally included garland, candles, flowers, tulle or fairy lights, she added. She didn’t mention that the Sossaman wedding would probably feature all the above and then some.

Dan nodded. “Nice setup.”

“We’ve had some beautiful weddings here since we reopened. And quite a few more booked in coming months.” She tried to keep her tone more informative than boastful, but suspected a little of the latter might have crept in. She couldn’t help being proud of how much she and her siblings had accomplished in the past two and a half years. “We have several wedding packages available, from full-service with wedding planner, florist, caterer, music and officiate included or customized to the client’s specifications. The side lawn will accommodate a large tent that will seat up to 150 guests for a wedding meal. We can even provide chandeliers and an orchestra dais for the tent.”

Dan glanced in the direction she’d indicated toward the corner of manicured side lawn visible from where they stood, accessible by three stone steps and a wheelchair ramp. “Did your uncle leave the place in this condition? Eighteen years after closing?”

She grimaced instinctively, but quickly smoothed her expression into a bland smile. “He kept up the basic maintenance, but the decor and gardens had always been Aunt Helen’s department.”

“So, the answer is no. You and your brother and sister have put a lot of work into the inn and the grounds.”

“Yes, we have.” Her hands still bore a few small scars from some of the manual labor that had gone into those renovations. She, Bonnie and Logan had all put hours of sweat and effort into the restoration, saving money whenever possible by doing what they could themselves. She figured she would be manning a shovel for the planned koi pond eventually. Considering how much they’d had to do, they still considered it close to a miracle that they’d been able to open only a year after inheriting the place.

“A big investment, too. Must have been intimidating.”

“A bit,” she said, a major understatement. To help them with the transition, Uncle Leo had made them equal beneficiaries of a generous life insurance policy. Every penny of that had gone into the restoration, along with some extra contributions from their private savings. More than intimidating, the commitment had been terrifying, but Bonnie’s persistent optimism had persuaded her siblings to stay the course.

Dan made another, slightly tentative attempt to turn the conversation again into a somewhat more personal direction. “What did you all do before becoming innkeepers? Was it always your plan to reopen the inn?”

She knelt to snap a broken branch from a rosebush. Had someone stepped on the branch? Or was this the work of her brother’s dog, Ninja, the bane of her existence? She looked around suspiciously for the mutt, but saw no evidence of him. Logan had promised to keep the dog penned up for the weekend, but Ninja was notorious for escaping the most seemingly secure enclosures.

Remembering that Dan had asked her a question, she straightened and pushed her nemesis to the back of her mind. “Bonnie has a degree in hotel management. Since she was just a kid, it’s been her dream to reopen the inn. She worked for an established bed-and-breakfast inn in Knoxville from the time she was in high school all the way through college to prepare herself for this. Even though he didn’t want to run it alone, Uncle Leo loved telling stories of the inn in its heyday and it’s Bonnie’s goal to re-create that time. As you commented yourself, we’re well on the way to achieving that end.”

Dan nodded toward the tidy caretaker’s cottage just visible downhill from the gazebo. “And was it also your brother’s dream to run the inn?”

“My brother trained in computer software development and ran his own business for several years. He still works as a small business consultant, but he was ready for a new challenge and the inn came along at just the right time. He’s taken on the grounds, and served as the contractor for the construction and remodeling we took on. He’s designing plans for the Meditation Garden and another couple of projects we’d like to undertake in the future.”

Dan lifted an eyebrow. “Software developer, landscape designer, construction contractor and groundskeeper? That’s quite a range of talents.”

She smiled and shrugged. “Logan is what you might call multifaceted.”

“I look forward to talking with him.”

“Oh, I don’t think he’ll want to be interviewed for your article. My brother prefers to remain in the background.” Some people accused Logan of being downright antisocial. He had his reasons, but there were plenty of times when she was exasperated with her brother’s muleheadedness.

“You told me earlier that you enjoy the business part of running the inn. That’s your background? Business?”

She nodded, comfortable again now that the topic had turned to her work. She never should have let it stray into such personal areas in the first place. “I have a degree in business and a real-estate license. I worked full-time in real-estate sales in Knoxville, Tennessee, until we took over the inn, and I still work part-time for a broker in Blacksburg. I work the occasional open house, take a few listings, do some private showings.”

“So both you and your brother have other professional responsibilities outside the inn.”

“For now,” she conceded lightly. “We both enjoy our other interests.”

Whether the inn would ever clear enough to fully support all three of them remained to be seen, but she was satisfied for now that most months ended in the black. The time and financial investments they’d made thus far seemed to be paying off for them. Dan would hear nothing from her that wasn’t cheerily positive.

“You put in a lot of hours here and you work part-time selling real estate,” Dan remarked after they’d walked together to stand beside the large fountain. Recirculating water spilled musically downward from the six-foot-high top into three increasingly larger fluted bowl-shaped tiers and finally into the shallow pool that surrounded the base. “You’re pretty much working seven days a week.”

“Pretty much,” she answered, smiling to show that she wasn’t complaining.

“And what do you do for fun?”

“I enjoy my work. That makes it fun.”

Dan shook his head with a chuckle. “Not what I meant.”

Absently fishing a leaf from one tier of the fountain, Kinley tried to decide what to do with him next. They had completed the basic tour; it was too early for any of the other scheduled events, and she had a few things on her schedule before lunch. Muffled sounds drifting from the front of the inn indicated that her brother and his crew had already started working on repairs to the portico, which would hinder access there for now. It wasn’t that she minded spending time with Dan—just the opposite, in fact—but she had other things to do.

As if in echo of her thoughts, her phone alarm beeped discreetly, reminding her of the meeting with the prospective bridal party who had stayed in the inn last night. She silenced it quickly.

“I don’t want to keep you from your plans for the day,” Dan assured her. “I know you weren’t expecting me until tomorrow. I can entertain myself for the next few hours.”

“Yoo-hoo, Kinley. There you are.” Eva Sossaman’s shrill voice sliced through the peaceful quiet of the gardens as she bustled toward them from the inn with daughter and grandson in tow. “Serena and I were just going to take a few more photos, but I wanted to make sure you remembered to order the patio garlands for the prerehearsal cocktail hour.”

Kinley wasn’t sure she was entirely successful in swallowing her low groan. Had Dan heard? She spoke quickly. “Yes, of course, Eva. Everything’s under control for the wedding. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Mr. Phelan and I have a meeting scheduled. Please let Bonnie or Rhoda know if there’s anything at all you need before you go.”

“Oh. Yes, of course.” Eva looked disappointed that Kinley was taking the handsome writer away when she would probably have loved to entertain him with endless descriptions of the upcoming wedding.

“I’ll see you later,” Kinley promised, edging toward the inn and nodding discreetly at Dan to accompany her.

“But I—”

Eva’s attempt at protest was interrupted by a splash from the fountain behind them. They all turned to see Grayson standing in the shallow pool at the base, stomping the water with his now-sodden sneakers, bending to reach for one of the pennies someone had tossed into the pool.

Eva shrieked. “Grayson! Oh, my sweet stars, what on earth were you thinking? Serena, get him out of there.”

But Dan had already moved to skillfully pluck the child from the pool. He held the dripping imp at arm’s length, his mouth quirked into a crooked grin that Kinley found almost impossible not to reciprocate when their eyes met over the boy’s head. With an effort, she kept her expression schooled. Pressing a button on her phone with her thumb, she lifted the phone to her ear, speaking to Eva as she did so. “I’ll have Rhoda bring out some towels and help you dry him off.”

Mumbling what might have been thanks or apologies or a jumbled mixture of both, Serena took her nephew from Dan and set him firmly on the pebbled path while Eva continued to scold the child, who looked not at all penitent. In fact, he seemed to be interested in climbing back into the fountain, being held back only by his aunt’s firm hands.

Kinley knew the boy would soon turn five, but she thought privately that he acted more like a toddler at times. Probably because his grandmother let him get away with so much, despite her show of fussing at him. Kinley didn’t have kids of her own, of course, and maybe never would, but she could tell when a child was being overly indulged.

Assured that Rhoda was on her way with the towels, and that Serena had convinced her mother that they should take the boy home immediately, Kinley hurried Dan away before they could be detained again. She was not at all happy with the way the day had progressed thus far. She would feel much better once she had regained control and gotten back onto her carefully planned schedule.

“So, we have a meeting?” Dan asked as soon as they were inside the inn again.

She wrinkled her nose in response to his tongue-in-cheek tone. “It was the first excuse that came to me. I didn’t think you’d really want to spend the next hour or more hearing about Serena’s wedding plans.”

He chuckled, a rich, deep sound that made her tummy do a funny little tap dance. “I’m pretty good at getting myself out of things I don’t want to do. I’d have found an excuse for Mrs. Sossaman. But thanks for the rescue, anyway.”

She glanced past him when a foursome came noisily down the stairs. She greeted them with a smile. “Here you are. I’m ready for our meeting. Dan Phelan, this is Stephanie Engel, her fiancé, Richard Molaro, and Stephanie’s mother and sister, Faye Engel and Jennifer Vines. Stephanie and Richard are considering having their wedding here at Bride Mountain Inn.”

“It is a beautiful setting for a wedding,” he said with a flash of charming smile, earning himself a few more bonus points in Kinley’s esteem.

“We agree,” Richard said with a besotted glance toward his fiancée. “We’re ready to book the date and discuss options.”

Pleased, Kinley motioned toward a doorway behind them. “Let’s go into the office and get started, shall we? Dan—”

“I’ll catch up with you later,” he said, taking a step backward. “I have some notes to write. I’ll leave you to plan what will surely be a beautiful wedding for a beautiful bride.”

His easy tone and charming wink made the young bride-to-be giggle rather than groan at the blatant flattery. Her cheeks were glowing when she hurried through the office door Kinley had just opened for them. Kinley waited to follow them in, speaking to Dan. “Do you have plans for lunch?”

“No, I don’t.”

“If you like, we can meet here in the foyer at noon and I’ll take you to Bride Mountain Café for a meal and to answer more of your questions. My treat.” That would allow her an hour for the meeting, which she was sure would be sufficient. She considered her friend Liza Miller’s café another enticing reason to stay at the inn. Less than half a mile away, it was close enough to walk, if the guests desired, and provided food that always left them raving. Having Dan mention the café favorably in his article could only benefit both businesses.

He nodded agreeably. “See you at noon.”

With that, he turned and ran lightly up the stairs toward his room. Suddenly realizing that she was watching his tight backside, she blinked rapidly and turned toward the office. Time to get back to work, which meant putting all thoughts of sexy travel writers out of her mind for the next hour or so—though she couldn’t help looking forward to that lunch with an anticipation that didn’t feel at all professional.

* * *

The Engel-Molaro party checked out of the inn immediately following the very productive meeting. Kinley and Bonnie ushered them out the side door, repeating assurances that they would not regret booking their wedding here at Bride Mountain Inn. The sisters shared big, satisfied smiles when the door had closed behind their departing guests.

“That’s going to be a great gig,” Kinley predicted smugly. “Stephanie seems unlikely to turn into a bridezilla, Richard had some excellent suggestions and Stephanie’s mom and sister appear content to leave the arrangements to the bridal couple. Not to mention that they’re considering purchasing the full wedding package from us.”

They exchanged a quick, jubilant high five. A few more bookings like that, Kinley thought, and they could order the supplies for the Meditation Garden. Another good year after this one and they’d start thinking seriously about expansion plans—a couple of honeymoon cottages, perhaps. Knowing how driven she could be, her sister and brother expressed apprehension every time she started talking about those possible future developments, but that didn’t stop her from dreaming big.

“Am I interrupting a celebration?” Dan asked from the stairs.

Bonnie giggled, but Kinley transitioned smoothly into business mode. “Dan and I are going to the café for lunch. Do you want to join us, Bonnie?”

“Thanks, but I have things to do here. If you need anything or have any questions for me later, Dan, I’ll be around.”

“Thank you. My room is very comfortable, by the way. You’ve done a great job decorating.”

Bonnie’s face turned pink with pleasure. The way to her sister’s heart was definitely through compliments to the inn, Kinley thought with a slight frown. It didn’t hurt, of course, that the nice words came from a totally sexy guy.

She cleared her throat and motioned toward the side door. “We’ll have to go out this way. Bonnie, I have my phone if you need me.”

“I’ll take care of things here. You just go enjoy your lunch with Dan.”

Something in Bonnie’s tone made Kinley eye her suspiciously, but her sister merely gave her a blandly innocent smile in return. With a slight shake of her head, Kinley led their guest outside, determined to remain in control of this somewhat hectic day.

The chill of the spring morning had been replaced by a pleasant warmth fanned by a slight breeze that tossed Kinley’s hair around her face the moment she stepped out onto the side porch. She reached up to tuck a strand behind her ear, then pushed the sleeves of her light cardigan above her elbows. As always, she wore stylish but comfortable shoes, so the half-mile distance to the café wasn’t a concern when she asked, “Shall we walk or drive? Or we keep a half dozen loaner bicycles available for guests if you prefer to bike.”

“Whichever you prefer,” Dan replied gallantly.

“Let’s walk, then. It’s such a pretty day.” And she could use the exercise to clear her mind, she thought. For some reason, she had a little trouble thinking clearly when he looked at her with those strikingly blue eyes.

Chapter Three

As he and Kinley walked past the front of the inn on the way to lunch, Dan saw that some progress had been made in the repairs to the portico even during the relatively short time since he had arrived. The truck had been moved and the sagging portico had been jacked up to level again. A weathered-looking man who appeared to be in his late forties or early fifties, wearing faded, hard-used jeans and a stained gray T-shirt that displayed strong arms and a beer belly, balanced on a ladder, carefully reattaching dislodged gingerbread trim. A younger, thinner man in a Virginia Tech T-shirt and baggy shorts waited at the base of the ladder with a toolbox. Logan Carmichael stood nearby, talking on his phone.

Logan completed the call as Kinley and Dan passed, shoving his phone into a belt holster and speaking gruffly to his sister. “The new post is on the way. Hank had a spare available, as I thought. Everything will be back in place in time for the wedding rehearsal tomorrow evening.”

“That’s great news,” his sister said with relief. She motioned toward Dan. “We’re going for lunch. Want to join us?”

Dan wasn’t surprised when Logan shook his head. “I’m going to finish up here with Curtis and Zach.”

Kinley nodded as though she, too, had expected that reply. “Okay, see you later.”

Logan had already turned away to get back to work. Shaking her head slightly in an apparent response to her brother’s brusqueness, Kinley fell into step beside Dan on the driveway toward the road. There was no sidewalk to the café, but the paved road was wide enough for pedestrian safety and dead-ended at the inn, so there was little traffic. Spring-flowering trees and native bushes grew on the hillsides along the roadway, and the sky above had deepened to a rich, cloudless blue. Dan couldn’t have special-ordered a nicer day for a leisurely walk with the oh-so-interesting Kinley Carmichael.

He’d noticed the Bride Mountain Café on his drive up to the inn earlier. The diner was on the smaller side, nondescript in architectural style, but sparkling windows and fluttering green canopies gave it a welcoming appearance. It looked clean and inviting, with enough cars in the tidy lot to demonstrate its popularity with the locals. It also couldn’t hurt that the next closest eating establishment was probably a good three miles away, he thought.

The café was busy, but not overly crowded on this Thursday lunch hour, so he and Kinley were seated immediately. She seemed to know everyone who worked there and several of the other diners, as she was greeted by name with smiles and waves. A thirtysomething woman with intricately styled hair and warm, dark chocolate eyes, wearing a plastic tag engraved with the name Mary, handed them each a menu.

Kinley introduced him to the server, then asked, “Is Liza here? I want Dan to meet her.”

“No, she had to leave for a little while. She had an appointment in town,” Mary replied. “I’ll give y’all a couple of minutes to look at the menu and then I’ll be back for your orders. Not that you need to look at the menu,” she added with a wink for Kinley. “I imagine you have it memorized.”

“Pretty much,” Kinley agreed with a laugh. She looked across the table at Dan when the server moved to another group of customers. “Liza Miller owns the café. She’s a good friend. I hope you have a chance to meet her while you’re staying at the inn.”

“I’m sure I’ll be back here in the next day or two. I’ll introduce myself to her if you aren’t with me, and I’ll definitely mention the diner when I write the article.”

His words obviously pleased her. She explained that Bride Mountain Café was best known for its soup-and-sandwich combos, and everything was made in-house, even the bread. The café was open for lunch and early dinner, from eleven until eight Monday through Saturday. “Though we serve only breakfast at the inn most days, we provide a big brunch and a light supper on Sundays,” she added. “Between our schedule and the café hours, our guests can enjoy every meal without getting into a car, if they like.”

His mouth quirked into a half smile in response to her practiced spiel. “You’ve thought of every detail, haven’t you?”

She seemed oblivious to his irony. “We certainly try.”

Glancing at the menu again, he asked, “What do you recommend?”

“I really like the chicken tortilla soup with a quesadilla, which is today’s special. My brother is partial to the loaded-baked-potato soup with a Virginia ham sandwich. Bonnie loves the minestrone with the eggplant-and-artichoke panini. Honestly, you can’t really go wrong. It’s all good.”

Dan had listened attentively to her recitation. When she finished, he said, “You actually have memorized the menu, haven’t you? You sounded like a radio ad.”

She frowned just a bit, as if trying to decide if he was making fun of her. He wasn’t mocking her, of course, but he couldn’t help teasing her a little, just to try to coax her out of that strictly business mode she seemed to fall into so naturally.

Quickly smoothing her expression, she gave him a bland smile. “All entirely sincere, I assure you. I wouldn’t eat here so often if I didn’t genuinely enjoy the food.”

“And you wouldn’t have brought me here if you didn’t think I’d like it, too.” He had no doubt that her invitation to lunch had been as much a marketing move as a gracious one.

“Um, right.”

Only when they’d ordered and their food had been served did Kinley get around to asking something she’d probably been wondering all morning. “So how did you end up arriving here a day early?”

He chuckled. “Long story. Short version is, I drove up from Atlanta to Charlotte yesterday expecting to spend at least part of today interviewing a museum curator in Charlotte. That interview fell through at the last minute. I woke up in a particularly uncomfortable motel bed at five this morning and decided on impulse to make the drive to the inn. As I said earlier, I figured I’d either spend an extra night at the inn or find a room nearby until my scheduled arrival time. I’m glad you had a room for me. The bed looks a heck of a lot more comfortable than the one I tried to sleep in last night.”

“I hope it will be.” As if she were suddenly a bit too warm, she pushed up her sleeves. “If there’s anything at all you need to make your stay more pleasant, please let us know.”

“You’re certainly making it very pleasant so far,” he said, unable to resist adding a smile just a touch too personal to be considered strictly business. Maybe she already sensed he was attracted to her. Was it strictly wishful thinking on his part that she was aware of him in that way, too?

His instincts were usually pretty good in that regard, but Kinley was a bit hard to read. She was so intensely, almost amusingly, focused on presenting a positive spin for his article. And even though he told himself to follow her lead and keep his own feelings reined in, there was just something about her that tempted him to forget he was with her only on assignment for his job.

“Congratulations on your new wedding booking, by the way.” He could still easily picture the jubilant, unself-conscious smile she’d exchanged with her sister when she’d closed the door behind the future wedding party, before she had realized he was there to see her. He’d like to see that carefree side of her again.

“Thank you.” Setting down her tea glass, she picked up her soup spoon. “Are there any other questions I can answer for you now?”

“A few.” There was quite a lot he’d like to know about her, but he’d content himself with a few random queries now.

She nodded encouragingly. “Feel free.”

He asked the first thing that popped into his head. “What’s your favorite color?”

The faintest of frowns appeared between her tidily arched brows. “Moss green. The color we chose for the upstairs hallway of the inn, actually. Bonnie let me pick that one.”

“Favorite candy?”

“My sister’s homemade peanut brittle. She makes it sometimes for our guests to enjoy in the evenings around the game tables. We—”

“Favorite musical group?”

“I, uh—Black Lab.” She couldn’t seem to think of a way to turn that answer into a plug for the inn. “What do these questions have to do with—”

“Which do you like better, football or soccer?”

She laughed softly then, as if she couldn’t quite help doing so, and the musical sound was a nice reward for his persistence. “I grew up in Tennessee. So, football. Is there a point to this interrogation?”

He flashed a grin at her. “Just checking to see if you’re always in business mode. So you do have outside interests?”

“Of course.” She touched the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “But you aren’t here to write about me. My sister, brother and I are equal partners in the inn.”

“One more personal question?”

She eyed him warily. “That depends on what it is.”

“Is there a Mr. Kinley?” The answer to this question, of course, was more relevant than his professional ethics to whether he would continue flirting with her. He might be somewhat lax in his work habits, especially compared with what he’d seen of Kinley thus far, but he wasn’t a jerk.

“Not anymore, there isn’t.” She changed the subject with a firmness that told him there was a lot more to that story. “What else would you like to know about the inn?”

Sensing the invisible barrier she’d just erected between them on that personal topic, he obligingly backed off. “Tell me more about the inn’s history. You said your mother’s uncle inherited it from his father, the original owner.”

Looking relieved to be back on topic, Kinley nodded and spoke more comfortably. “Yes. My great-grandfather Finley had two sons, Leo and my mother’s father, Stuart. Stuart died when my mother was just a toddler. Her mother wasn’t interested in staying in Virginia, so she moved back to Tennessee to be closer to her own family. My grandmother remarried and settled down in the Knoxville area. She had two more children with no biological connection to the inn. Every summer during her childhood and teen years, my mother came back here to Virginia to stay with her paternal grandparents and with Uncle Leo and Aunt Helen, who were all running the inn together during that time. When Mom’s grandfather died, he left the inn to Uncle Leo, who had been running it almost exclusively for several years by that time.”

“And your great-uncle, who had no children of his own, kept it in the family by leaving it to his niece’s kids when he passed.”

She nodded in approval that he’d followed along. “Yes.”

“It’s great that you have that connection to your family’s past. I’m sure your mother would have been very proud of what you and your sister and brother have accomplished in the past two and a half years.”

He’d spoken somewhat artlessly and almost immediately second-guessed his words, hoping she didn’t take them as patronizing. But she seemed pleased, instead, by the sentiment, seeming to sense his sincerity.

“I think she would be proud,” she said quietly. “Uncle Leo, too.

Dan reached for his tea glass. “Must be a nice feeling. Knowing your parents are proud of you, I mean.”

She cocked her head, and he wondered if she’d heard more in his offhanded comment than he’d intended to reveal. “Are your parents still living?”

“Yes.” He saw no need to elaborate just then about his father’s rapidly failing health, nor to go into details about his strained relationship with them.

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