At least, by northern standards. This was nothing compared to the oppressive heat he’d left in Houston.

There was a plaque stating that Bradford House was listed on the historical registry of Shady Grove. He wasn’t sure of the protocol, so he stepped inside the foyer, where it was cooler, the colors rich and inviting, the ceilings high, the woodwork gleaming. He could see two rooms—a library and what looked to be a living room, both comfortably furnished.

The sound of footsteps made him look up, but it wasn’t Ivy coming down the wooden stairs, but a very thin, tall woman with a soft smile and a reddish tint to her hair, which was pulled back in a tidy braid.

“Hello,” she said. Even her voice was soft, like the colors she wore—a pink top and light blue jeans. “May I help you?”

“This is Bradford House?” he asked, though he’d read the plaque stating it was.

“Yes. I’m the manager, Fay Lindemuth. Do you have a reservation?”

“No, ma’am,” he said, giving her his most charming grin, “but I’d like one.”

Her own smile stayed merely polite. “Let’s see what we can do for you, then. Follow me, please.”

She led him into the office, then indicated the chair across from a small desk, while she sat behind it and booted up a computer. “How long would you like to stay with us?” she asked.

“Indefinitely.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

He sent her a grin, hoping to put her at ease. “I have some...unfinished business here in Shady Grove. And,” he added, wondering if bringing in a local connection would help his case, “my brother lives in town.”

“Your brother?”

“Kane Bartasavich.”

Her expression softened. “Oh, yes. He’s marrying Charlotte Ellison. We’re hosting Charlotte’s bridal shower this October.” She typed something into the computer. “I’m afraid we’ve never had a guest stay more than two weeks, so you’ll have to bear with me. Now, what kind of accommodations are you looking for?”

“I’d like a room with as much privacy as possible, a desk and internet access.”

He could work with that.

“All rooms in Bradford House have access to free Wi-Fi,” she murmured, her attention on the screen. Her desk was cluttered. Framed photos hung on the walls around it. The room itself was more homey than functional, with its brightly patterned sofa and pictures of two little boys in huge hockey jerseys. “You’d probably be most comfortable in the Back Suite. It has its own sitting room with a desk and the most privacy of all the rooms.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Unfortunately, it’s booked until tomorrow night. I can put you up in the Blue Room for now.”

He nodded, and she handed him a form to fill out. He did so quickly, passed it back to her along with his driver’s license and credit card. While she typed in his information, he glanced around. It had taken him five days to tie up loose ends at work, delegate responsibilities and hand over two key projects before he’d been able to leave Houston. Five days of thinking about Ivy and how he’d mishandled things.

And now that he’d temporarily put his life on hold and traveled more than one thousand miles to be here, he had no idea what his next step was. All he knew was that he needed to be in Shady Grove. He had to see Ivy again, talk to her.

He had to get to the truth.

He didn’t like being this...unsettled. An unplanned pregnancy would have that effect on anyone he supposed, but he wasn’t used to not having a plan. An idea of what to do next, which step to take.

“You’re all set, Mr. Bartasavich,” Fay said as she stood. She turned, took down a key—an actual key, not a pass card—from a locked box behind her. “If you’ll follow me, we’ll get you settled. Breakfast is served from 7:00 a.m. to 10:00 a.m., Monday through Friday. Weekends from eight to eleven. We offer free coffee and snacks in the afternoon in the library. Wine and cheese in the evenings. I can also give you suggestions on places for lunch and dinner and tourist attractions.”

“I appreciate it.” Though he wouldn’t have time to do any sightseeing.

They stepped out into the hall. “Here,” she said, “let me take your bag.”

He grinned at her. “And have them kick me out of the man club? No, ma’am.”

She smiled back at him shyly. She was a pretty thing with her strawberry-blond hair and those light eyes.

The door at the far end of the hall opened, and Ivy stepped out. C.J.’s heart nearly stopped—which was idiotic. He was a grown man, not some teenager in the throes of his first crush. But still, she took a man’s breath. Today she was wearing light green shorts that showed miles of her toned legs and a loose tank top. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she’d wrapped a floral scarf around her head like a headband. She froze when she saw him.

He nodded. “Hello, Ivy.”

For a moment he thought she was going to simply turn around and walk back into the kitchen, pretend he wasn’t here.

If she really was pregnant with his baby, he wasn’t going to let her ignore him.

Instead, she walked toward him, all attitude and sex appeal. “You’re a long way from home, cowboy.”

Fay glanced between them. “Do you two know each other?”

C.J. inclined his head. “You could say that.”

“We met at Charlotte’s engagement party,” Ivy said quickly, shooting him a shut-it-or-die look. “What are you doing here?”

He held up his key. “Just booked a room.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms, which only lifted her breasts up, and damn if he didn’t notice. She smirked, knowing the effect she had on men. They probably dropped to their knees, either in prayer or to beg for a moment of her time, when she walked down the street.

“Now, why would you do a thing like that?” she asked.

“Because you’re here,” he said simply.

“Oh, no,” Fay murmured, shifting to stand next to Ivy. “You’re not one of those guys, are you?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

She waved a hand at Ivy. “Men who book a room here just to get Ivy’s attention.”

He couldn’t help it. He laughed. “Men actually do that?” he asked Ivy.

“Legions,” she said so solemnly, he wasn’t sure if she was kidding or not.

“I’m here,” he told Fay, “because I didn’t like how Ivy and I left things.”

“Funny,” Ivy said, “but I liked how we left things just fine. Mostly the part about us never seeing each other again.”

“We have unfinished business,” he told her.

“There is no we, cowboy. Unless you’re talking about you and the little brain you have in your pants.”

“I think it would be better if you found somewhere else to stay,” Fay said, now shifting to stand in front of Ivy, which was funny because she looked as if a stiff wind could blow her down. As if she were afraid of her own shadow.

He held Ivy’s gaze. “You going to let her kick me out, Ivy? Because that won’t stop me from getting what I want. From what I came here for.”

“Do you want me to call the police?” Fay asked Ivy, looking really worried now. As if C.J. was planning to add Ivy’s head to his collection in a basement.

“No,” Ivy said. “He’s basically harmless.”

But her look said she wasn’t so sure. Good. He wouldn’t hurt her, but no one thought he was harmless.

She turned to Fay. “Why don’t I show Mr. Bartasavich to his room? Since we’re such good friends and all?”

“Are you sure?” Fay asked. She lowered her voice, sent him a glance. “He seems sort of...dangerous. Possibly unstable.”

“I’m standing right here, darlin’,” he drawled. “And dangerous or unstable, my hearing’s just fine.”

They ignored him.

“He won’t hurt me,” Ivy assured her. She turned to him. “Come on.”

He winked at Fay to let her know he wasn’t some deranged madman with murder on his mind and followed Ivy up the stairs.

CHAPTER NINE

DAMN IT. DAMN IT! What was he doing here? Ivy thought as she stomped up the main staircase, her hand trailing over the glossy wood rail.