Hannah chuckled, a deep, seductive sound. “You’ll be even happier as soon as the doctor says it’s okay.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Fiveweekslater,withthe new shopping center nearing completion, Xander was still keeping its name under wraps—literally. A canvas tarp wrapped in chains and secured with a padlock obscured the wooden archway Matteo had installed at the entrance this morning. Beside it, two large lumps, each around five feet tall, stood likewise shrouded. Even the signs on the mini shops were covered.
It was enough to drive a curious reporter up a wall.
Staring out the window of theBeacon, Hannah huffed loose hair out of her eyes. She hated, hated, hated being kept in suspense. But part of patching up things between her and Xander was proving she respected his judgment. Boundaries and all that. Besides, her efforts to help had done enough damage.
So she’d kept her mouth shut as she watched Gus’s cosmic transmitter craned into place. She’d hushed as the bricklayers constructed a circular plaza around it with brick-paved paths wending to the four corners of the lot. She’d zipped her lips as Matteo dumped load after load of architectural trim in the parking lot, and his crew of tight-lipped locals hammered into the night, giving each mini shop a unique front—some vaguely Victorian, some Tudor-ish, some shingled, each with its own color scheme.
In just six weeks, Xander had transformed a muddy lot and some mismatched prefab garden sheds into a funky little village where everything sparkled and nothing matched. Totally TC.
He finally got it.
From her vantage point at the editor’s desk, Hannah watched out-of-towners and locals enter the temporary construction office, equipped with a ramp for Xander’s knee scooter. This past week, with the doctor’s blessing and a lightweight walking boot, he trotted around the site with only the slightest hitch in his step.
His ribs were better too, as long as she didn’t squeeze him too tight. Now that Mom was feeling better, she and Xander spent most nights in his little RV under the pines, where they could love as loud as they pleased. Well, almost. With Memorial Day weekend approaching, the RV court was filling up with visitors, and the last thing they needed was a visit from the police on reports of a woman’s screams.
The memory of their steamy nights brought a blush to her cheeks and a grin to her lips. He might be over forty and recovering from a close brush with death, but her Xander wasfiercebetween the sheets. And in the shower. And on the dinette table. And one night she’d never forget, on the RV’s little deck, beneath a pile of blankets while the wind whipped through the pines, and the stars shone as brilliant as her love for him.
Infatuated with their long-term renter, the Delaney sisters had outfitted his wooden deck with strings of Edison lights, and as spring crept toward summer, they spent many a starlit night snuggling there and talking for hours about everythingexcepthis new shopping center.
“Just trust me, Hannah. You’re going to love it.”
Whenever she slipped and started prodding him for details, he’d distract her with deep, drugging kisses and whispered praise as his hands deftly removed her clothing. And before she knew it, she’d be riding him again—carefully, so as not to aggravate his injuries—so drunk with pleasure she couldn’t hold a thought except for how much she loved him.
Even if his sneaky-poo secrecy was driving her nuts.
Around five o’clock, her mother came humming down the staircase. Since her official retirement six weeks ago, the color had returned to her face and the sparkle to her smile. She’d put away her cane, too, thanks to thrice-weekly physical therapy with a very cute PT.
Mom clucked her tongue. “Hannah girl, aren’t you ready yet?”
TheBeacon’s old-school landline jangled a summons.
“I’ll get that.” Mom flapped her hand at Hannah. “Go get dressed.”
“Dressed for what?”
“Xander’s party, of course. Now scoot.” She lifted the receiver. “Pacific County Beacon…Good evening to you, dear heart…Yes, I’ll have her ready in a jiffy.”
Hannah racked her brain but drew a blank on any mention of a party. Clearly, Mom and Xander were in cahoots. What could they be celebrating the Monday before Memorial Day weekend? Not Xander’s birthday—they’d commemorated his fortieth with a belated birthday dinner at Casa Francesca weeks ago. Despite downing a bottle of excellent Chianti between them, their post-dinner sexy times had been spectacular. “A good omen,” Xander murmured afterward, his fingertips tracing lazy spirals over her skin.
So, what the hell was he up to tonight? Secrets upon secrets. Shaking her head, she climbed the stairs to her apartment.
“Wear something pretty,” Mom called after her.
“Something pretty,” she grumbled, flipping through her overstuffed closet. What she’d give for a proper walk-in with room to spread out. She dug deep into her jumbled wardrobe and extracted a floaty chiffon blouse in sunset hues, Xander’s favorite. What else?
She went to the window and stuck her head outside. Balmy, with just a slight breeze, but it would cool off soon. She fished out a midi-length flared skirt and a knit throw she’d picked up at last summer’s art fair. She finished the look with soft suede boots, spritzed on rose and spice cologne, fastened dangly gold earrings, and fluffed her hair to curl loosely around her shoulders.
“Not bad for a woman of almost forty-one.” She grinned at her reflection. “Let’s see what my boyfriend is up to.”
Boyfriend. Sounded funny at her age—but saying it aloud made her giggle with delight. After four years of stubborn loneliness, she had a most excellent boyfriend, one who adored her and supported her and challenged her to think bigger than she’d ever dared.
When she descended the stairs, she found Xander talking to Mom and Luz Oloroso, theBeacon’s newest reporter. Fresh out of WSU’s journalism school, she’d been thrilled to land a job in Trappers Cove where she could keep an eye on her grandmother, who lived behind Saint Sebastian’s Church.
Hannah could forgive Luz for gawking starry-eyed at Xander. He truly was a gorgeous man. Day or night, dusty from the worksite or shined up for a dinner out, or even naked—especially naked—he took Hannah’s breath away. But tonight, he’d gone all out: a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the top button open. Muscled forearms and just a hint of chest hair—yum! Dark slacks hugged his thighs, and his leather shoes gleamed. His unruly curls were neatly combed—an effort that would last only until the next breeze because they were as determined as he was.