Falling for the Innkeeper Read online

  She’s the home he never expected to find.

  A battle for a charming Cape Cod inn...

  But what happens when romance checks in?

  Single mom Laura Lessoway won’t accept her mother’s plan of selling her late grandmother’s inn without a fight. But when big-city attorney Jonathan Masters arrives to arrange an offer from his client, she’s drawn to him. And working together as he helps with repairs only brings them closer. With his career and her home on the line, can they ever find common ground?

  “You’ve been strong all day. I promise you I can take a few sniffles...”

  Something in Jonathan’s tone made Laura crane her neck to see his eyes, which were laced with both concern and humor. She wiped at her face, which was tingling. It was strange, given that she’d just had a meltdown in front of him, but his teasing actually made her feel better. “A few, huh?”

  He nodded solemnly, dark eyes dancing. “I do have a younger sister, you know.”

  “So you’ve seen your share of sniffles?”

  He gave her a lopsided smile. “I’ve seen my share of sniffles.”

  She took a breath. She liked knowing that she could fall apart without fear that he’d judge her. She liked knowing that strong emotions wouldn’t scare him away.

  She leaned into him and whispered, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Laura,” he whispered back, the lopsided grin still in place. “I like seeing you smile.”

  Jonathan’s voice rumbled through her like the bass line of her favorite song.

  It was at that moment Laura knew she was in real trouble...

  Meghann Whistler grew up in Canada but spent her summers on the beaches of Cape Cod. Before settling down with her rocket scientist husband and raising three rambunctious boys, she worked variously as a magazine writer, a model and a marketing communications manager at a software company. She loves to hear from her readers, who can reach her at www.meghannwhistler.com.

  Books by Meghann Whistler

  Love Inspired

  Falling for the Innkeeper

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  FALLING FOR THE INNKEEPER

  Meghann Whistler

  Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.

  —2 Corinthians 5:17

  For Paul, my happily-ever-after

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to my wonderfully supportive parents, whose adventures in Hong Kong loosely inspired some of Laura’s backstory. Many thanks, as well, to my agent, Rachelle Gardner, who believed in these characters from the get-go and helped them find a home, and to my editor, Melissa Endlich, who helped me polish this story to a fine shine.

  Thank you to my dear friend Anna for her love and support, and to my Monday night stepsisters for their encouragement.

  To Kathleen, Michael and Hari—thank you for proving Laura wrong about lawyers.

  To my grandmothers, Myrtle and Frances—I miss you both.

  To my mother’s side of my family, thank you for all the wonderful summers on Cape Cod! I hope you enjoy visiting the inn in this book as much as the one in real life.

  Thank you to Paul and the boys for everything. And to God, who continues to work in me—may my words be a reflection of Your love.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from Her Amish Chaperone by Leigh Bale

  Chapter One

  Jonathan Masters pulled up in front of The Sea Glass Inn, turned off his GPS and sighed. How had he gotten himself into this? He really didn’t want to intrude on a single mother and her young daughter right at dinnertime.

  A sixth-year associate at Meyers, Suben & Roe, the top corporate law firm in Boston, Jonathan had left work early to drive to the sleepy Cape Cod town of Wychmere Bay to take care of some new business. This little inn wasn’t the new business, of course, but if he could ensure that Carberry Hotels acquired this prime piece of beachfront property, there was a good shot that the luxury hotel chain would hire Jonathan’s firm for all its legal needs.

  And if Jonathan wanted to make partner, as his mentor, Mike Roe, had told him just a few nights ago, he needed to prove he was a closer.

  “You’re smart, Masters,” Mike had said, “and a hard worker, but frankly, if that’s all you’ve got, you’re a dime a dozen.”

  Although Jonathan generally took criticism well, that had hurt. In his experience, hard work always paid off. It was what had earned him a scholarship to college at SUNY Albany and what had gotten him into Harvard Law. The idea that it might not be enough to get him a partnership was simply...unacceptable.

  So, if Mike wanted him to bring in new business, Jonathan would bring in new business. Maybe he wasn’t particularly slick or practiced at glad-handing, but if that was what it would take to earn a partnership, he’d learn. He had to.

  He stepped out of the car and looked at the little inn. It was two stories high with gray cedar shingles, black window shutters and a hand-painted sign with its name—The Sea Glass Inn—hanging from a wooden post out front. In other words, quintessential Cape Cod.

  The inn’s location couldn’t be better. It sat at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac, nestled behind the dunes of a sweeping, white-sand beach on Nantucket Sound. Rosebushes grew haphazardly around the split rail cedar fence that surrounded the property. In the distance, a flash of green light shone from the lighthouse at the mouth of the nearby harbor. The sound of the surf crashing against the sand was soothing. Aside from a few walks around Boston Harbor in his rare free time, Jonathan had never spent much time by the sea.

  He adjusted his tie and cuff links, the expensive ones he wore when he wanted to impress. Not that he expected a single mother to even notice his wardrobe. But it was like his battle armor. Look the part, play the part. Get. It. Done.

  There were lights on inside the inn, which was a good sign. He left his suitcase in the car, took a deep breath, walked up the brick-lined path to the front door and knocked.

  Almost immediately, the door swung open onto a deserted sitting room with a unique sea glass chandelier, and Jonathan was baffled for a split second until he glanced down and saw a dark-haired slip of a girl with a mischievous smile and gigantic green eyes. She was wearing white tights with purple stars, a pink tutu and—of all things—an itty-bitty Red Sox jersey. Plus, she was holding a couple of crumpled twenty-dollar bills in her hand.

  Her big eyes went bigger as she focused on his face. “You’re not the pizza man,” she said, her words betraying just a tiny hint of a lisp.

  “Nope.” He grinned and crouched down so he was at eye level with her. “Not the pizza man.” He peered into the room behind her. “Is your mom around?”

  “Emma, honey!” a woman called out, pushing her way through a set of swinging doors into the room. “I told you not to—” She stopped abruptly when she caught sight of Jonathan.

 
Although he was certain they’d never met—he’d have remembered a face like hers—the sense of familiarity he felt upon looking into her soft green eyes was jarring. Her clear, heart-shaped face was framed by thick dark hair that tumbled over her shoulders and down her back in waves. She was slender and dressed casually in jeans and a Red Sox sweatshirt. Although she had hardly a lick of makeup on her face, he was still almost dazzled by how beautiful she was.

  He gave his head a small shake—don’t be an idiot!—straightened up and offered his hand. “Hi, I’m Jonathan Masters with Meyers, Suben & Roe. I spoke with your mother, Eleanor, earlier about staying here for a few days while we work out the terms of the deal.”

  “You spoke with my mother...about a deal...?” The green-eyed beauty made no move to come closer and shake his hand.

  Oh, man, Jonathan thought ruefully. He’d gotten the sense during his meeting with Eleanor Lessoway, this woman’s mother, that Eleanor might be a little flaky—rich, but flaky—but this was taking flakiness to new heights. He wasn’t just intruding on this woman and her daughter; he was ambushing them. And he didn’t like it one bit.

  “Mommy, he’s wearing clothes like Daddy’s!” The little girl’s voice was filled with excitement.

  “Emma, shh.” The woman stepped forward and put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go in the dining room with Aunt Chloe?”

  “But he looks just like Daddy!” The girl peered up at Jonathan. “Do you know my dad?”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t think so, kiddo.”

  She pushed her lower lip out in a clear pout. It was adorable, and he had to fight to keep a straight face.

  “Go in the dining room with Aunt Chloe,” her mom ordered, giving her a gentle push in the right direction. After one last piteous look at Jonathan, the girl scampered off.

  The woman shot Jonathan an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. Her father wears suits. She only sees him a couple of times a year on video chat.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He smiled at her, hoping to put her at ease. “I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Laura.”

  “Laura,” he repeated. “It’s nice to meet you, Laura.” This time, when he held out his hand, she shook it, her soft hand warm and delicate in his. He was struck again by how beautiful she was.

  “So, you spoke with my mother? About some kind of deal?”

  “Just a small legal matter,” he said, once again trying to ease her mind.

  “A legal matter?” Laura repeated. “Is this about the will?”

  Jonathan knew that Eleanor and her daughter had just inherited The Sea Glass Inn from Eleanor’s recently deceased mother, but he hadn’t actually seen a copy of the will. He and Eleanor had simply talked about what kind of offer Carberry Hotels might be prepared to make on the property. “Nothing like that. I have a client—a potential client—who’s interested in buying this place.”

  “You’re a real estate agent?” She sounded skeptical.

  He gave her a lopsided grin. “Worse. A lawyer.”

  Her gaze frosted over. “This inn’s not for sale.”

  “Your mother led me to believe otherwise. She invited me to stay for a few days while we work out the terms of the deal.”

  Laura threw her hands in the air. “She’s not even here! She’s still in Boston!”

  A second woman, a short, sloe-eyed blonde in ripped jeans and a polka-dot blouse, poked her head into the room. “What’s going on out here?”

  “Nothing,” Laura said. “Mr. Masters was just leaving.”

  “What? No, I—”

  But Laura’s hands were on his shoulders, and she literally pushed him out the door. “Sorry we can’t help you,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. “Goodbye.”

  * * *

  Laura paced on the inn’s back patio, oblivious to the sun as it sank low over the sea behind her, her cell phone held tightly to her ear. “I don’t understand why you sent a lawyer here, Mom. It’s not like we can sell before we fulfill the stipulation set out in Gram’s will.”

  “Oh, darling,” her mother said dismissively. “Those are just pesky details.”

  Laura bit back a sigh. “It’s not just details, Mom. Besides, I thought you didn’t even want to stay for the whole summer. I thought you wanted to go straight back to Hong Kong.”

  Laura’s parents had lived in Hong Kong for eleven years, ever since Laura was fourteen and was “just the right age for boarding school,” and her mother had the whole expatriate thing down pat. Her parents lived in a sprawling, four-bedroom apartment with a sweeping view of Hong Kong’s Victoria Harbor, and they ate out every single night. They had a live-in housekeeper who cooked them a full English breakfast every morning and threw together gourmet salads for her mother’s lunch. When Laura’s two sisters were younger, they’d also employed live-in nannies for each girl.

  Although her father had originally accepted a two-year job contract, her parents loved their lifestyle over there so much that Laura wasn’t sure they were ever coming back.

  Which was all the more reason for her to convince her mother to stay at The Sea Glass Inn until Labor Day so they could meet Gram’s crazy stipulation that the two of them run the inn together for a full summer. If they met that condition, the inn would be theirs, and Laura would have a shot at keeping Gram’s legacy alive. If they didn’t, it would go to Wychmere Community Church, which her grandmother had attended faithfully for the last forty-odd years.

  The Sea Glass Inn was the only home Emma had ever known. It was practically the only real home Laura had known, also. It was where she’d spent her holidays and summers during boarding school and her first two years of college, before she’d dropped out after marrying Conrad Walker.

  It was also where she’d lived ever since her divorce.

  The thought of losing The Sea Glass Inn made her sick to her stomach—even if it had become a bit of a money pit since the big nor’easter that had hit Cape Cod last year.

  “I did, darling,” her mother responded airily to Laura’s question about returning to Hong Kong. “I do want to get back to your father as soon as humanly possible. But this is Carberry Hotels we’re talking about. If anything could change my mind about fulfilling your grandmother’s ludicrous stipulation, it would be Carberry Hotels.”

  Laura watched as a flock of sandpipers ran across the wet sand down by the waves. “What’s the big deal about Carberry Hotels?”

  Her mother gasped. “Don’t you read the paper, darling? Carberry Hotels is one of the top luxury hotel brands in the world. This isn’t a measly million or two we’re talking about. This offer promises to be significant. The least you can do is show the man the kind of hospitality The Sea Glass Inn is known for.”

  Laura shook her head in disbelief, although she knew her mother couldn’t see her. Until Gram’s funeral last week, Eleanor hadn’t visited The Sea Glass Inn once since she’d deposited Laura on the steps of her boarding school and hopped on a plane to Hong Kong eleven years earlier. She had no idea what kind of hospitality was on offer at the inn these days.

  “Why aren’t you here to entertain him?” Laura demanded.

  “Oh,” her mother said flippantly, “I’m staying at the Ritz-Carlton in Boston for a few days to catch up with some old friends. You can handle it, can’t you, darling? Just show him around a little, and let him know what a fantastic deal Carberry Hotels would be getting if they decide to move forward with the inn.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell her mother that no, she wouldn’t handle it, she didn’t want to sell the inn to anyone, let alone a luxury hotel chain that would be sure to bulldoze it, when she realized that if her mother wanted to sell, it meant she’d have to stay for the summer. Which would give Laura a lot more time to convince the woman to let her take over the inn.

  “Okay, Mom,” she sa
id. “I’ll handle it.”

  “Good girl, darling. Good girl.”

  The wind gusted, and the long grass waved wildly on the dunes. Laura remembered playing hide-and-seek on this beach with her sisters when they were little, waiting to hear the tinny music of the ice-cream truck as it rolled into the parking lot at the top of the rickety wooden boardwalk. She remembered catching sand crabs and carrying them around in buckets. She remembered sifting through seaweed to collect sea glass, and daring her sisters to touch the remains of washed-up horseshoe crabs.

  She turned away from the beach and surveyed the outside of the building. After her divorce, she and Emma had moved in to help her grandmother with some of the more physically and mentally taxing aspects of running the inn.

  At twenty rooms, it was bigger than a bed-and-breakfast, but it had the same kind of appeal. Clean and cozy rooms, a sunny dining room, where guests enjoyed their continental breakfast, and a spacious parlor where guests shared stories after a day spent exploring the dunes, walking out on the jetty or lolling around on Sand Street Beach.

  The inn did good business during the summer, but it was open only three and a half months out of the year. Even if they had an extremely profitable summer, Laura doubted they’d make enough money to pay for all the repairs that were necessary since last year’s nor’easter—especially the repairs to the roof.

  Trying to figure out how to keep the inn from falling apart without going bankrupt in the process was keeping her up at night. But the thought of losing it altogether, which she hadn’t even considered a possibility until she and her mother had met with the executor of her grandmother’s estate last week, was the stuff of nightmares.

  She went inside to the dining room, which featured a wood-beamed ceiling and framed nautical posters on the walls, and found her friend Chloe sitting at the end of one of the long communal tables, eating pizza with Emma.

  “He still out there?” Laura asked, gesturing to the filmy white curtains covering the windows that faced the street. Last she’d checked, Jonathan Masters’s car—a black BMW—had been parked out front, and he’d been pacing up and down the street, phone at his ear.