make an exception this once and add one more camper beyond our usual limit.”
“Thank you, Ms. Benedetto.” One corner of his mouth lifted into a relieved smile and the trembling in her stomach seemed to go into hyperdrive, much like the Harder twins after a little sugar.
Somehow that slight smile made him look even more attractive and her reaction to it alarmed her.
“Amy will give you a list of supplies you will need to provide for Chloe.” Annoyance at herself sharpened her voice. “She’s going to need waterproof boots and a warmer jacket this afternoon when we go out to Haystack, though we can probably scrounge something for her today.”
“Thank you.”
“May I go with the other children?” Chloe asked, her green eyes gleaming with eagerness.
“Sure,” Sage said. She and Eben watched Chloe race to the picnic table and squeeze into a spot between two girls of similar ages, who slid over to make room for her.
She turned back to Eben. “Our class ends at four, whether your conference calls are done or not.”
He sent her a swift look. “I’ll be sure to hang up on my attorneys if they run long. I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting.”
“It’s not me you would be letting down. It’s Chloe.”
His mouth tightened with clear irritation but she watched in fascination as he carefully pushed it away and resumed a polite expression. “Thank you again for accommodating Chloe. I know you’re stretching the rules for her and I do appreciate it.”
Without waiting for an answer, he turned around and walked toward the center. She watched him go, that fast, take-no-prisoners stride eating up the beach.
What a disagreeable man. He ought to have a British accent for all the stuffy reserve in his voice.
She sighed. Too bad he had to be gorgeous. Someone with his uptight personality ought to have the looks to match, tight, thin lips, a honker of a nose, and squinty pale eyes set too close together.
Instead, Eben Spencer had been blessed with stunning green eyes, wavy dark hair and lean, chiseled features.
Didn’t matter, she told herself. In her book, personality mattered far more than looks and by all indications Eben Spencer scored a big fat zero in that department.
“Ms. B, Ms. B.! What’s this one? Lindsey doesn’t know.”
She turned back to the picnic table. She had work to do, she reminded herself sternly. She needed to keep her attention tightly focused on her day camp and the thirteen children in it—not on particularly gorgeous hotel magnates with all the charm of a spiny urchin.
Chapter Three
“Your daughter will just love the day camp.” The bubbly receptionist inside the office delivered a thousand-watt smile out of white teeth in perfect alignment as she handed him the papers.
“It’s one of our most popular summer activities,” she went on. “People come from all over to bring their children to learn about the rocky shore and the kids just eat it up. And our camp director is just wonderful. The children all adore her. Sometimes I think she’s just a big kid herself.”
He raised an eyebrow, his mind on Sage Benedetto, and her honey-blond curls, lush curves and all that blatant sensuality.
“Is that right?” he murmured.
The receptionist either didn’t catch his dry tone or chose to ignore him. He voted for the former.
“You should see her when they’re tide-pooling, in her big old boots and a grin as big as the Haystack. Sage knows everything about the coastal ecosystem. She can identify every creature in a tide pool in an instant and can tell you what they eat, how they reproduce and who their biggest predator might be. She’s just amazing.”
He didn’t want to hear the receptionist gush about Sage Benedetto. He really preferred to know as little about her as possible. He had already spent the morning trying to shake thoughts of her out of his head so he could focus on business.
He smiled politely. “That’s good to hear. I’m relieved Chloe will be in competent hands.”
“Oh, you won’t find better hands anywhere on the coast, I promise,” she assured him.
For a brief second, he had a wickedly inappropriate reaction to that bit of information, but with determined effort, he managed to channel his attention back to the registration papers in front of them.
He quickly read over and signed every document required—just a little more paperwork than he usually faced when purchasing a new hotel.
He didn’t mind the somewhat exorbitant fee or the tacked-on late-registration penalty. If not for Sage and her summer camp, his options would have been severely limited.
He didn’t have high hopes that the agency in Portland would find someone quickly, which would probably mean he would have to cancel the entire trip and abandon the conference calls scheduled for the week or fly in his assistant to keep an eye on Chloe, something neither Chloe nor Betsy would appreciate.
No, Sage Benedetto had quite likely saved a deal that was fiercely important to Spencer Hotels.
He would have liked to surrender Chloe to someone a little more…restrained…but he wasn’t going to quibble.
“All right. She’s all set, registered for the entire week. Now, you know you’re going to need to provide your daughter with a pair of muck boots and rain-gear, right?”
“Ms. Benedetto already informed me of that. I’ll be sure Chloe is equipped with everything she needs tomorrow.”
“Here’s the rest of the list of what you need.”
“Thank you.”
He took it from her with a quick glance at his watch. He was supposed to be talking to his advertising team in New York in twenty minutes and he wasn’t sure he was going to make it.
Outside, steely clouds had begun to gather with the capriciousness of seaside weather. Even with them, the view was stunning, with dramatic sea stacks offshore and a wide sandy beach that seemed to stretch for miles.
He shifted his gaze to the group of children still gathered around the picnic table. Chloe looked as if she had settled right in. As she chattered to one of the other girls, her eyes were bright and happy in a way he hadn’t seen in a long time.
He was vastly relieved, grateful to see her natural energy directed toward something educational and fun instead of toward getting into as much trouble as humanly possible for an eight-year-old girl.
This next few days promised to be difficult with all the new conditions Stanley Wu was imposing on the sale of his hotel. Having a good place for Chloe to go during the day would ease his path considerably.
His attention twisted to the woman standing at the head of the table. In khaki slacks and a navy-blue knit shirt, Sage Benedetto should have looked stern and official. But she was laughing at something one of the children said, her blond curls escaping
