in to Mandy, who had uncharacteristically scheduled an appointment on her day off.
The sight of a sleek silver-green Mustang convertible in the parking lot dashed her hopes that her visitor might be late.
She took the steps to the office two at a time and entered the building, taking deep breaths. Mandy Holliday, her friend since high school and her assistant and office receptionist, smirked at her from behind the wooden desk, cocking an eyebrow toward the double doors leading to the diner.
“He’s been waiting there thirty minutes. The last time I checked he was talking to the Elliots in Cottage Number One.”
“Of all the times to doze off on the beach...” Justine grimaced. “I wonder why this Forrest man has insisted on seeing me. If he wants to rent a cottage, you could have dealt with him. I wish you had been able to squeeze some information out of him.”
She adjusted the tie belt on her wrap-around skirt.
“I hope he’s not one of those pompous business types. You know—the punctuality nuts, the arrogant ‘you must be as perfect as I am’ professionals who—” She stopped at the sudden furrowing of Mandy’s eyebrows.
“Perhaps you should reserve your judgment until after our meeting,” a cool voice suggested directly behind her.
“I’ll be in the diner if you need me,” Mandy murmured, before retreating hastily.
Justine turned around stiffly to face her visitor. He was not at all what she’d expected. But what had she expected after hearing that ice-tinged drawl?
She tried not to reveal her surprise as her gaze smacked into the chest of his impeccably tailored gray suit before moving slowly upward to his face. His height topped hers by at least a foot. Her pulse quickened as her eyes took him in. A five o’clock shadow she suspected he wore permanently. Dark brown hair with burnished bits, styled like someone out of GQ. Chestnut eyes with flecks of gold.
She felt sweat on her upper lip. To her horror, she ran her tongue over her lips without thinking. She felt like combusting.
How could he look so cool in that suit? She almost felt like suggesting he remove his jacket or tie... And then her mouth crinkled slightly, nervously, at the thought of how such a suggestion would sound to him.
He caught the crooked smile, but didn’t return it. He looked down at her imperiously, his jaw tense.
He’s angry, Justine thought, unable to tear her gaze from his face. It was so male and rugged, with a straight nose and firm, sensual lips clearly visible under the meticulously groomed shadow. At second glance she caught a slight curl in his hair, and his eyes, unwavering, were disturbingly hypnotizing.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I was irritated at myself for being late. It’s not like me.” She extended her hand, forcing herself to offer him an apologetic smile. “I’m Justine Winter.”
For a moment, he just stared at her, and Justine was about to withdraw her hand in embarrassment when he finally took it, his long fingers closing around hers completely in a firm clasp.
“Apology accepted,” he replied, motioning abruptly for Justine to sit down.
She did so and he pulled up a nearby chair.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Forrest?”
“Forrester. Casson Forrester.”
Her eyebrows shot up at his name. “Yes, of course. You made an appointment with Mandy to see me, but you didn’t state your reasons. Are you interested in renting a cottage? Did you want a tour of the grounds and facilities before making a reservation? We may have an opening, depending when it is you want to stay.” She paused, realizing she was babbling.
His lips curved slightly. “Yes, I’m very interested in the cottages. You see, I’ve just purchased the adjoining land on both sides of your property.”
Justine frowned. “I can’t believe the Russells have sold their properties—” She broke off, stunned. The Russells’ ancestors had been among the original homesteaders in the area.
“I made them a convincing offer.” He was unable to conceal the satisfaction in his voice. “Our transaction was mutually profitable.”
Justine looked at him warily. “I don’t suppose you arranged this appointment just for the sake of meeting your new neighbor...?”
He laughed curtly. “You’re perceptive, if nothing else.”
Justine flushed, her mouth narrowing. She didn’t like the negative implication of “if nothing else.” “Why don’t you come right to the point?” she suggested sweetly, trying not to clench her teeth.
His eyebrows arched slightly at her directness. “I have development plans for both lakefront properties,” he explained brusquely. “However, your property, being in the center, poses a number of problems for me. It would seem that the ideal solution would be for me to purchase this property in order to maximize the success of my venture.” His eyes narrowed. “Just name your price. You’ll have it in your bank account first thing tomorrow morning.”
Justine couldn’t prevent the gasp from her lips. “You can’t be serious!”
“I’m not the joking type,” he countered sharply. “Nor do I intend to play any money games with you, Miss Winter. Negotiations aren’t necessary here. I’m willing to pay whatever you feel is an optimum price for this place.”
Justine felt her eyes fluttering in disbelief. “I’m not interested in selling—no matter what you offer, Mr. Forrester,” she stated as firmly as she could muster. “It’s not a matter of money; it’s a question of principle.”
She stood up, both palms on the table, willing him to leave.
A muscle flicked at his jaw. He made no move to stand, let alone leave. “Kindly explain yourself, Miss Winter,” he said evenly.
Justine took a deep breath. “I would not want to see the natural beauty and seclusion of this area spoiled by a commercial venture. That’s what you have in mind, don’t you?” She put her hands on her hips, her blue-gray eyes piercing his accusingly.
“Let me clarify my intentions.”
He leaned forward, resting both elbows on Justine’s desk. His face was disturbingly close to her chest. She was mortified as she noticed her black bra peeking from under the white eyelet blouse. She hadn’t even thought about the selection of her bra in her after-shower haste. She sat down and crossed her arms in front of her.
“I think the rugged beauty of this stretch of Georgian Bay shoreline should be fully enjoyed—not kept a secret. I am contemplating the construction of a luxury waterfront resort and a restaurant that will enhance the experience of visitors. Nothing like high-rise condominiums; that would be unnatural in these surroundings.”
He rubbed his jaw with long, manicured fingers.
“I like the thought of luxury cottages nestled privately among the pines and spruces, each overlooking the bay.” He paused briefly, but as she opened her mouth to reply, added coolly,
