Page 5 of The Activist and Her Billionaire

I may not know much about multimillion-dollar projects with timetables. What I do know is the Calypso Inn. He sees a building that isn’t in style, and I see one that is timeless.

The Calypso has a storied history in Dove Point. It does have value. Just not the kind of value that billionaires like John Huntington Houston III can put a price on.

I know who he is. I checked him out. He approached my Uncle John, who was set to bequeath the Calypso to my sisters and me. And Jack talked him out of it. It was either that or his lawyer,some douche named Brody Dillman, did. They told my uncle cash would be better for us.

So, Uncle John, thinking he was doing the right thing, cashed out, splitting the proceeds between my two sisters and me. It was the only time I saw my siblings since I didn’t know when. I was the one who took care of Uncle John and the Calypso for years while they scattered to Texas and Florida, only showing up when there was money to be had.

“You’re going to get sunburned,” Jack says, probably thinking that will make me suddenly change my mind.

“I grew up in Dove Point. I don’t think I’ve ever been sunburned,” I bite back.

“You could suffer from exposure, though it’s not hurting me one bit,” he taunts.

I cut my eyes at him, and that sets him off. He rushes me again, pins me with those over-muscled arms of his, and finally undoes the cuffs. He works them free of the chain.

I wriggled out of his hold to reach for the cuffs that had fallen to the floor, threatening to start it all up again.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he shouts at me, and before I know it, he hoists my naked body over his manly shoulder.

He fireman carries me away from anything I could refasten myself to. In a flash, I am acutely aware that my hip is at his face level. He could turn his head and literally kiss my derriere. He sets me down on the sparsely grassy ground.

“Arms up,” he orders like a drill sergeant.

I obey. I am tired. Being on the porch like that did take it out of me. I am so worked up about losing this place that being naked in front of strangers did not bother me a bit. Heck, I live in bikinis – not so different. No, it is the emotional part that wore me out. The fact that I might be doing all this for nothing really brings me down.

Finally, I am partially dressed in what I assume is Jack’s T-shirt, which is way too big for me. It fits like a boxy dress. He then handed me the sweatpants.

“Put ‘em on,” he snaps and turns his immense back to me.

It’s nice of him to afford me privacy while I cover up instead of staring at me. But, growing up here, I am used to changing on the beach with no more protection than a human shield. Residents of beach communities are geniuses at changing clothes in plain view. It was gallant of Jack to care when I have been such a troublemaker. Still, I keep up the fight.

“I think I am going to have you arrested for that,” I threaten. My face goes hot and tight like I need to cry suddenly.

“I can have you arrested for trespassing,” he fires back quietly.

I notice that the camera crew wandering the property have their lenses trained on the two of us again. I wonder what part of ‘you guys can go’ they did not understand. Maybe Jack’s really not the boss that he thinks he is. Even as I think this, I know it’s not true. There is no denying that Jack calls the shots.

“Which arrest do you think would be worse publicity for you?” I ask, suddenly very sure of myself.

We are both standing with our hands on our hips, aiming our best steel gazes at one another. I am just an owner of a small business, pitting myself against a man who is worth a fortune. The odds are not going to favor me in the battle for the inn.

I looked him in the eye, for the first time, up close. He has the most amazing hazel eyes I think I’ve ever seen. They seem to shift from blue to green. Today, they are in the blue range. He is so handsome.

I can’t remember anyone affecting me the way he does. Either I am starved for male attention, and admittedly, it has been a while, or his vibe is surreal. Magnetic. A charge emanates from him and courses through me.

“You’re doing that,” I dismiss.

“Excuse me?” he says.

I only half believe in beachy mysticism – being able to read seashells or astral projecting. Jack has the superpower of reading people. It probably allows him to overcome the opposition in business deals. Bet it’s how he took advantage of my uncle.

Remembering that he is the enemy in this battle, I step back, away from him. I can’t allow myself to be attracted to a man like him.

“He was going to give me the inn,” I say. “And you talked him out of it.”

Jack’s flawless face draws up with confusion, trying to convince me he has no earthly idea what I am talking about.

“Don’t play dumb,” I say. “It’s not convincing. And it makes me think you think I am foolish – which I’m not.”

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