The Unsealed Heart

CHAPTER ONE

She was toast.

Miri knew it as surely as the man bearing down on her with the 'do not disturb' expression knew. She would be lucky to get ten seconds of his time before he told her to get lost.

Okay, so turning up without an appointment wasn't smart, but it was too late to turn tail and run. Besides, she'd rehearsed her spiel and wasn't going to let that, or her new business outfit, go to waste. She also had the letter from the realtor, confirming Brannagh Enterprises had won the sealed bid for the Charmford Mill, so she was fully prepared. Why an international demolition company would want to pull down an abandoned textile mill in a small East Coast town, no one could say, least of all the realtor when she’d asked him. In any event, it was a good thing they'd won the bid as it wouldn’t matter to them if they onsold it for a profit. 

So here she was in the mill’s parking lot, ready to do business. If life changes came down to a few critical moments, this had to be one of them. Providing of course, she survived this man. He looked lethal. 

By the time he was in front of her, Miri's courage was perilously close to dissolving. He was tall, powerfully built, and from the way his brow was pulled low, not a man to mess with.

Are you Nick Brannagh?

Yeah, that’s me. Can I help you? 

Help? The way he was looking her over, he seemed more interested in helping himself to her outfit. Miri took a deep breath for steadiness, aware that her new five-inch pumps were anything but steady on the lumpy asphalt. I'm here to make you an offer, she blurted. 

"What?" 

The word came out of his mouth like a rifle shot. At least she’d pulled his attention upward, even if it was only for a moment. His eyes were back inside her shirt. Foolish woman for leaving an extra button undone to try for the business-sexy look. Not that she’d ever tried business-sexy before, but this man appeared to appreciate her efforts. For an eternity, it seemed. 

You'd better come in, he said, when he finally looked up.

Miri blinked, startled by the unexpected invitation. He might be rude, but at least she’d made it past the ten-second mark. Thank you. I really appreciate you sparing me the time. I’m Marisa Jamieson. 

He nodded and strode off toward the entrance, leaving Miri to totter along in his wake, cursing her heels and every pothole in her way.

He was three long strides ahead of her by the time she reached the mill’s steps, but Miri had no complaints. She hadn’t exactly achieved anything close to a business-sexy walk. Her shoes were killing her and her hair was sticking to the back of her neck in the heat. 

Then there was his ass to look at. Maybe it was a proximity thing or just her sex-starved body sending out a mayday for attention. Whatever it was, Miri couldn’t stop herself from ogling its perfection, or the rest of him, for that matter. Big shoulders, heavily muscled arms, a broad back and thick thighs straining his jeans. 

He turned just as she flicked her eyes upward. Would you like some water? You look hot.

Oh, God, the man had caught her looking at his ass. Damn. From now on, his butt and every other eye-tempting part of him would have to be strictly off limits, which meant she’d be looking at the floor the whole time. Lord, and if the situation wasn’t difficult enough, she was about to giggle. Yes, water would be nice, she told the floorboards. It is warm today. 

Warm, indeed. She skimmed a glance up to his chest. He had to be over six feet. 

Okay. There’s no water cooler here, but I’ll get some from the cafeteria. Wait in there. He jerked a thumb to his left, then strode off down the passage, leaving Miri to find her own way. 

She knew the room. Only a month ago, she had walked the entire building with a contractor to estimate renovation costs. Fortunately, the building’s beautiful 1920's façade and most of the original fixtures were intact and the wooden floor hadn’t been ripped up, so the style could be preserved. The place was perfect and in the next few minutes, it would be hers.

Moving to the casement window overlooking the parking lot, she watched a white pickup leave. Apart from her Volkswagen and a black BMW that presumably belonged to Nick Brannagh, the place appeared deserted. The parking area was far too big for her needs but by converting half into lawn and garden, it could be made nice. Perhaps an outdoor seating area with a pretty cobblestone path leading to the front steps…

Here you are, Ms. Jamieson. 

The deep rumble behind her had Miri spinning so fast, she almost tipped off a heel.

Careful. Old wooden floors aren’t made for shoes like those.

Oh, right. Thank you. He sounded friendlier now, so Miri broke her new rule and looked up to his face. He was good-looking in a hard-cut way. Thirtyish and definitely not the preening gym-junky type. That body could only come from the necessity of heavy physical work. Dark hair in a buzz cut and striking gray eyes under a straight brow, or at least it was probably straight when it wasn’t frowning. A man used to being in control.

He placed her glass of water on the desk and gestured to a chair. Take that one. The other needs fixing.

I really appreciate you sparing me the time, Miri said, dropping her shoulder bag on the floor. Sinking gratefully onto the chair, she took a moment to put her thoughts in order, although the way her heart was thumping, a hundred moments would come up short. It didn't help that her clothes now felt all wrong. Jeans, casual shirt, and heat-alleviating ponytail would have been far more comfortable and more honest. Still, she was fully invested in this meeting so it was time to get down to business. She knew what she wanted. She wanted this building. 

Miri swallowed her nerves, crossed a leg and waited. It took her several seconds to realize that he hadn’t moved, and endless more for her brain to register the reason. Her new black pencil skirt with the off-center slit had decided this was the moment to live up to its sexy promise. 

It’s just leg, Miri reasoned, staring helplessly at the expanse of thigh on display. It was more than she’d planned on showing, but so what? Yet even as the words formed in her brain, Miri couldn’t get past the obvious. He would think this was all a deliberate distraction to tempt him to sell. She might as well as have Magic Markered the fact up her leg. 

She was about to stand and close the slit when he strode around the desk, sat down and looked her hard in the eyes. 

Annie didn't bother standing. 

I'm a busy man, Ms. Jamieson. What can I do for you?

Find her a cliff, she was dying from embarrassment anyway. Please call me Miri. She groaned inwardly at her fresh stupidity. He wasn’t interested in her name! His eyes were exploring her leg again. 

He looked up and rested his forearms on the desk. Miri’s gaze, which she seemed to have lost all control over, along with her common sense, began to inspect every inch of them, right down to his hands. Hands were her favorite drawing subject. Shape, size, skin texture. Nick Brannagh’s were large, strong and work-roughened. She shivered at the thought of experiencing those hands.

Dragging her eyes back to his face, she realized with a sick thud that he was waiting for her to pay attention. 

You said you had an offer, he said brusquely. What is it?

Miri cleared her throat twice while she rummaged her brain for the right words. She was completely off track, and going by his condescending expression, he knew it. Um, you see...I put in a bid for this building and…well, I found out yesterday that you were the successful bidder and now own the property. Miri swung a glance around the room as if it might add support.

That’s right. 

I know coming here is irregular but I had hoped to buy the mill for my art.

A flicker of surprise passed across his face. You’re an artist?

Yes, a sculptor and I’ve been looking for somewhere to open a studio and gallery. This building is perfect. 

Silence. 

Seriously, she continued, forcing a confidence that was rapidly fading under his penetrating stare, I really would like to buy the mill... She paused, thinking of how much to tell him. Obviously he wasn't the sympathetic type, but still. "You see, I really need the mill as there's nowhere else in Charmford that's suitable. I expected my bid to be the highest, as it was fifty thousand over the market valuation. But…you…I mean, Brannagh Enterprises won the sealed bid. The thing is, I can pay you twenty thousand more than what you paid." 

He frowned at that, so Miri worked her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed for comfort. One of her habits that had always driven her mother crazy. 

His eyes dropped to her mouth. You understand that I bought the mill to make a profit, he said, recapturing her gaze. The demolition plus the salvage and sale of the land will make a lot more than your offer. 

She unsnagged her lip. I know I’m asking a lot, but under the circumstances, can't you sell to me? 

There are no circumstances. This is a straightforward business decision. 

His tone held a finality that should have been warning enough, but Miri had never been any good with warnings. What if I offered you thirty thousand? 

He shook his head a fraction, his eyes steady on hers. I’m afraid not. 

Miri tried not to let her rising panic show. Can we not come to an agreement over this? Forty thousand dollars? That's more than generous.

 The building is fixed for demolition in the next two weeks. Now, I have work to do, so please see yourself out. 

 Miri’s temper came out of nowhere, but then, it always did. The man was worse than arrogant. He was boorish. Staring at her leg. Dismissing her like a kid. "Do you get some sort of satisfaction in pulling down beautiful old buildings, you—you sexist pig?!" 

She was on her feet, hiking her bag over her shoulder, when he stood and started walking toward her, his expression granite. Oh, God, surely he wouldn’t physically throw her out of the place? That would be assault. Except, his face said he was about to do just that—pick up her little five-feet, three-inch self and toss her outside.

He halted two feet from her, and Miri actually sighed in relief. Uncomfortably close, but at least she was still on her feet and he hadn’t put a hand on her. She stared at his T-shirt, caught in the moment of watching his chest rising and falling as he drew a slow breath. 

His rough voice jerked her head up. That’s some temper you’ve got.

Miri bravely stood her ground under his lethal stare. You’re just being stubborn for the sake of it. If you’re going to pull the place down anyway, why can’t you sell? There must be something I can offer you. What if I…? Her words fell away as he angled his head to look at her leg, still on display through the slit.

I appreciate the offer, but I'll have to pass.

Miri felt her mouth flop open in astonishment. Actually, I was going to suggest we meet with my lawyer about increasing the offer, but it doesn’t matter now. I should thank you for listening to me, but it wasn’t a pleasure so I won’t, you obnoxious ass! 

Ass? he said, shaking his head. Such a bad word coming from such a pretty mouth.

That he was mocking her didn’t make him seem any less dangerous. She backed away, tensing as he took a step forward. He was going to throw her out for sure. Miri took another step, praying she wasn’t about to end up against the wall. This time he didn’t move, giving her hope for a safe escape. 

He ran a hand across his head, his expression almost rueful. Look, bidding for property is tough, but I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.

I damn well don’t need your advice, she fired back, feeling a small prick of satisfaction when he flinched. 

Fair enough, he said, shrugging a big shoulder. Well, as I said, I have work to do.

He extended a hand. A handshake was the last thing she expected...or wanted. Her body might be curious to know what that big, rough paw felt like, but to hell with her body. 

Don’t let me hold you up, she snapped, pointedly ignoring the gesture. Pulling down historic buildings must keep you busy. 

This time he didn’t flinch. Instead, he looked at her thoughtfully. We don't always get what we want in life, Miri, he said quietly. Sometimes it takes more than a sexy outfit and a show of leg.

Miri felt her cheeks burn like a pair of hot coals. She wasn’t going to need that cliff. She was about to die of humiliation right here on Nick Brannagh’s floor. 

Desperate to escape him and her wretchedness, Miri started for the door, way too fast for skyscrapers, but beyond caring. She was almost there, almost safe, when the heel of her right shoe flexed against a loose floorboard and snapped. 

In two strides, he caught her, turning her so she was pulled flush to his chest. Are you okay? he said into her hair.

Too mortified to speak, Miri could only nod into his T-shirt, totally distracted by the woody, masculine scent of him and his powerful arms holding her. They felt like steel.

Are you sure? he repeated, easing her back to look down at her with a smile.

I'm fine, she mumbled. I have to go.

His arms slowly released her.