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“You are so, so wrong.”
He arched a brow.
“I know they’re not fancy, but that’s not the point. They speak of a different time, a different era.”
“And there are many streets with houses just like them. To lose these will not impact the feeling of the area.”
“You say that now, but what about when you and your rich developer friends get your hands on all of the houses, and knock each of them over to make way for modern progress?” How could he fail to understand the point she was making?
“We are talking about one house, one street?—,”
“I’m talking about the principle of this. Can’t you see how wrong it is to destroy that beauty just because you want to make money?”
“Progress is inevitable. If it wasn’t me, it would be someone else.”
“That doesn’t make you sound any better to me.”
“Will it bother you to know how little I care?”
She gasped. That wasn’t suave. That wasn’t charming. It was downright rude. “You are—just—so?—,”
“Yes?” He waited, a parody of patience.
“You’ll never get his house,” she said, and she jabbed his chest for emphasis. She hadn’t been expecting it to be so firm, and warm, yet she didn’t pull her finger away. “I felt strongly about that before I met you, but now? You can just…”
“Go to hell?” He prompted, when she couldn’t find words.
“Hell would be too good for you.”
He laughed then, a rich sound that caught her off guard. She felt it rumble through his chest and realized she was still pressing her finger there.
He caught it before she could remove it, and pulled it away, holding her hand at her side. Heat flooded her body in a way that made her pulse thready.
“Can’t you just leave us alone?”
Obviously, he was acting on autopilot. There was no other way to explain the way his thumb padded the back of her hand, stroking it with slow, gentle intent.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re the one who came to my hotel.”
Her jaw dropped. That had been completely innocent—a situation of necessity. But he made it sound somehow so…sensual. Sleazy. Hot. She swallowed, contemplated pulling away from him. She should definitely pull her hand back at least, to reclaim some modicum of common sense and control of the situation. “To talk about the development,” she said, then shook her head, contradicting that. “Or why there shouldn’t be a development.”
His other hand lifted to her face, a finger brushing her skin as if he couldn’t stop himself. The moment his fingertip connected with her flesh, she shuddered. “Why does it matter so much to you?”
“It should matter to everyone,” she said, after a beat. Earlier, she’d been convinced her grandfather had told him all about her—her childhood, her abandonment by her mother, being raised by her grandparents in that simple, unassuming beach house with views for miles and a warmth in the walls that could never be replicated. But now, she wasn’t so sure. If he knew why the house mattered so much, why ask the question?
“It’s a matter of principle,” she obfuscated, then jerked away from him. Ice cold flooded her veins, where seconds earlier, heat had sparked.
“I suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree.”
“What does that even mean?”
“That you won’t see my side, and I won’t see yours. So, we’re at an impasse.”
“Sure, but you’re still going to harass my grandfather until you get his house, right?”
“It’s not harassment to offer an old man a fortune to sell a home that’s too big for him.”
“It’s—God, you are impossible. It’s my home, too, Rocco.”
