Unraveled (Unwrapped and Unraveled 2)

So his original plan to lay out an offer and get her to jump at it might have been off by a few days, but he had some time to kill.

Greta was beautiful. So who better to spend the holidays with than her?

And her family.

Greta had thrown herself into her work the rest of the day, but by the time the night shift came on she needed a break.

The kids had spent the day at her mom's, so she headed over there to clear her head and eat some home cooking. There were only a few days left until Christmas, and her mom had asked her to come decorate the tree anyway, so she figured this was as good a day as any to throw herself into an activity that would get her mind off Mitch and his irritating offer.

She pulled up into the driveway of her mom and dad's house--despite Dad being gone it would always be their house--immediately noticing the strange car parked at the curb. Don's car was next to hers in the driveway. She'd expected him and Suz to be there for the annual decorating of the tree. Jeff and Zoey would no doubt be in the pool along with Don and Suz's two kids, thirteen-year-old twins Alana and Amanda.

So as usual, decorating night would be a total zoo. Just what she needed to keep her mind occupied.

She threw open the door, immediately assailed by the smell of pine trees, a scent so not indigenous to the central coast of Florida.

"Nice tree," she said, tossing her bag on the table in the foyer. "Don pick that one out?"

Her mother, who always dressed bright and cheerful--today it was khaki capris and a flowered button-down shirt--nodded and looked up at the six-and-a-half-foot giant that nearly filled the small living room. She swept her silvery blond hair behind her ears and turned to Greta with a wide grin. "You bet he did. She's a beauty, isn't she?"

"Uh huh. Where is he?"

"In the kitchen sharing a beer with Mitch. You know he's here for the holidays, don't you?"

Greta's smile died. "Mitch is here?"

"Well, yes. He said he went by the motel to see you today, so I don't know why you're surprised."

"I know he was at the motel, Mom. Why is he here? At our house."

"Because he stopped by to say hello, and since Don was here they had a reunion of sorts, so I invited Mitch to stay for dinner." Her mother came over and grasped her hands. "You look pale, Greta. Is something wrong?" She laid her palm across Greta's forehead. "Hmm, no fever. You do look run down, though. Want me to take a shift at the motel?"

She backed away from her overly concerned mother. "No, I'm fine. Really." She turned and headed toward the kitchen, intent on giving Mitch Magruder a piece of her mind.

She found him sitting at the kitchen table, sharing a beer with her brother, Don, both of them laughing. He glanced up when she entered the room, and her gaze caught an instant flare of heat in his eyes when he looked at her.

Her stomach fluttered and her nipples tightened. She had blown off men's looks and advances ever since Cody, not wanting to invite attention, needing to focus on herself, her motel and her children.

Men didn't interest her--not that way. And after what she'd gone through with Cody, it was easy to be turned off by anything having to do with the male species. But the way Mitch looked at her--reminded her for the first time in a very long time that she was a woman and she hadn't had sex in...God, she couldn't remember when the last time was.

But she wasn't going to have sex with Mitch.

"Why are you here?"

Mitch's lips curled. "Hi, Greta."

"You are so rude, brat." Don stood and gave his little sister a hug.

She tilted her head back and glared at her big brother. "You know what he wants, don't you?"

"Yeah. He wants to have dinner with us. What the hell's the matter with you?"

Greta's gaze returned to Mitch. "He came to the motel today. His big important company wants to buy the Crystal Sands."

"Yeah, he told me." Don moved back to the table to grab his beer.

"Oh, that," her mother said, coming into the room. "Well, that's up to you, I suppose. Did you make her a nice offer, Mitch?"

"Yes, ma'am, I did."

"Well, I'm glad. Greta, you should think about it. Dinner's almost ready. Don, go tell Suz to drag the kids out of the pool."

That's it? They knew and they weren't pissed? Shocked? Horrified? Throwing him out of the house? What the hell? "Did you hear what I said? He wants me to sell the motel."

Her mother turned to her. "I heard you, Greta. I'm not deaf yet. Now go set the table."

Exasperated, she let out a sound of disgust, grabbed the dishes and stalked into the dining room.

"Your mother threw the utensil basket at me and told me to come and help you."

Her gaze shot to Mitch. "Forks on the left. Knives and spoons on the right." She tried not to slam her mother's dishes onto the table.

"I know where they go, Greta." He followed behind her, laying down silverware after she put down the dishes. "Look, if my being here is going to upset you, I'll leave."

She stopped, inhaled, exhaled, then turned to him. "No, it's fine. Sorry. You can stay."

"Mom! Did you know Mitch was a world-class surfer?"

Greta turned and smiled at her son. "Yes, Jeff. I knew that."

Jeff, her gorgeous, lanky twelve-year-old and budding surfer, clearly had a case of hero worship going on. "He said he'd work with me while he was here for the holidays."

Greta swiveled. "You're staying?"

Mitch shrugged. "Sure. I've got nothing better to do so thought I'd hang out through Christmas."

"Isn't that great, Mom? Oh, and he's going to take a room at the motel, too. Right there on the beach. I can take lessons from him every day now that I'm on holiday break. Isn't that awesome?"

Greta glared at Mitch, who just smiled benignly. "Just awesome, Jeff."

"Me too, Mommy. You said I could learn to surf when I was ten."

She looked down at her golden-haired daughter. "Um..."

"You were about that age when I taught you to surf, if I recall correctly," Mitch reminded her.

"I was not that young."

"Yes you were, brat."

She looked up as Don entered the room, his arm draped around his pixie wife, Suz, who asked with a wide-eyed look, "Mitch was the one who taught you to surf?"

She fell into the nearest chair, defeated. "Yes."

"Cool, Mom," Jeff said. "And now he can teach me."

"And me too," Zoey added.

"It's not every kid who can claim to have learned to ride a board from a world-class surfer. Mitch is famous, ya know."

Greta glared at Don. "Uh, yes, I'm aware of that."

"Can we, Mom?" Jeff asked.

"Yeah, Mommy. Can we please?" Zoey cast her sweet, innocent eyes at Greta.

Mitch grinned. "Guess it's surf lesson time first thing in the morning."

"You aren't going to win this one, brat," Don whispered over her shoulder.

"Apparently not." But she sure hated the triumphant gleam in Mitch's eyes.

"I'll be by later tonight to check in."

She nodded. "I'll call ahead and let Heath know you're coming so he can have your room ready."

"Thanks."

"Dinner's ready," her mother called from the kitchen. "Everyone start carrying things in."

Greta rose and marched into the kitchen, feeling closed in and defeated. She'd come here for family support and they'd all rallied around Mitch instead.

But he still wasn't going to buy her motel, no matter how much her family liked him.

Chapter Three

Mitch spent an uncomfortable night on a lumpy queen-sized bed in a tiny room with a small television, dreaming of the highrise hotel and the three-swimming-pool resort with on-site golf course he was going to build in this spot. That was the only thing that got him through the night. He counted the hours until the gray dawn began to peek over the horizon. Long enough to suffer in the bed. He got up and went in search of coffee.

No restaurant at the

hotel. No in-room coffee. He stepped outside and took in a lungful of salty air, closed his eyes and imagined what guests in his resort would see first thing in the morning as they walked out on the balconies of their ocean view suites.

The orange sun lifting above the steely ocean, giving life to the peaceful calm of the sea. Gulls flying overhead looking for an early morning snack. The tangy scent of fresh brewed coffee from either their in-room coffeemakers or room service.

God, he really wanted room service. Instead, he put on his sneakers and took a jog on the beach until he found a restaurant where he could grab a coffee to go. Just the smell of caffeine sent the jolt through his system. He sipped as he took a walk on the sand on his way back to the motel.

Jeff and Zoey were already on the beach behind the motel, Greta standing behind them watching as they played.

She wore board shorts and a white short-sleeved T-shirt that molded to her breasts. Again her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but the early morning breeze whipped pieces of hair against her cheek. She hadn't seen him yet, her gaze trained on her kids as they played near the surf. Her hands stayed on her hips and she didn't once look away from her frolicking children. She was a good mom--attentive and focused despite the activity around her. She didn't turn away until he was almost next to her, then briefly acknowledged him with a nod.

"Morning," she said, not looking his way.

"You saw me?"

"Of course."

"Great peripheral vision."

Her lips tilted upward. "I'm a mother. I have eyes in the back of my head."

He laughed. "How are their swimming skills?"