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“That’s because no one has ever infuriated me so much,” Justine huffed.
She told Mandy the purpose of Casson Forrester’s visit.
“I’ll never sell, though,” she concluded adamantly. “To him or to anyone else.”
“Hmm...it doesn’t sound like we’ve heard the last of him, though, since he is our new neighbor.” A dreamy look came into her eyes. “I wonder if he’s married...”
“I pity his wife if he is,” Justine retorted. “Having to live with such an overbearing, narrow-minded brute!”
“I’d like to see what your idea of a hunk is if you consider this man a brute!” Mandy laughed.
Justine gave an indelicate snort. “All that glitters isn’t gold, you know. He may look...attractive—”
“Gorgeous,” Mandy corrected.
“But it’s the inside that counts. Trust me, Mandy, he has a terrible personality. No, it’s not even terrible. It’s non-existent.”
Mandy eyed her speculatively. “Not your kind of man?”
“Not at all,” Justine replied decisively, turning to leave. “If he calls again, think up any excuse you can; just tell him I’m not available. Whatever you do, do not set up another appointment. I’ve had enough personal contact with Casson Forrest... Forrester—whatever his name is—to last me a lifetime. All I want to do is forget him.”
Easier said than done, she thought, driving the short distance back to her house. How could she forget those tiger eyes? His entire face, for that matter... It was not a face one could easily forget. Not that she was interested, but she had to admit grudgingly to herself that Casson Forrester probably never lacked for female companionship.
Or lovers, she mused, stepping out of her car. She felt a warm rush as she imagined him in an intimate embrace, then immediately berated herself for even allowing herself to conjure such thoughts.
Justine sprinted up the stairs to her bedroom, changed into her turquoise swimsuit, grabbed a towel, and headed to her private beach.
The first invigorating splash into the bay immediately took some of her tension away. And as Justine floated on the bay’s mirrored surface, absorbed in interpreting the images in the clouds, the threat that Casson Forrester posed to Winter’s Haven already seemed less imposing.
What vacationers liked most about the place was the seclusion of each of the twelve rustic cottages tucked amidst the canopy of trees, only a short walk to their own stretch of private beach. They also appreciated the extra conveniences that Justine’s parents had added to enhance their stay. Along with the popular diner—which featured freshly caught pickerel, bass or whitefish—over seventeen years her parents had added a convenience store, a small-scale laundromat, and boat and motor facilities with optional guiding services.
Many of their guests came back year after year during their favorite season. Justine hoped that Casson Forrester’s plans wouldn’t change that.
She swam back to shore, towel-dried her hair, patted down her body quickly and decided she would change and eat at the diner instead of cooking. She liked to mingle with the guests, many of whom had become friends of the family.
Justine put on her flip-flop sandals, hung up her towel on the outside clothesline, and walked up the wide flagstone path. On either side myriad flowers bloomed among Dusty Millers and variegated hostas.
Ordinarily Justine entered through the back entrance after going for a swim, but the sound of tires crunching slowly up toward the front of her house made her change her mind. A new guest, she thought, mistaking her driveway for the office entrance.
She rounded the corner with a welcoming smile. The car sitting in her driveway had tinted windows, so she couldn’t make out the driver. But she didn’t have to. Her smile faded and she stopped walking. She knew who the silver-green Mustang convertible belonged to.
With the windows up he had full advantage, seeing her with her swimsuit plastered to her body, hair tousled and tangled. She wished she had wrapped her towel around her.
She felt her insides churn with annoyance. Frustration.
Was he going to come out of his car, or did he actually expect her to walk up to his window?
She stood there awkwardly, her arms at her sides, feeling ridiculous. Just when she thought she couldn’t stand it anymore, the convertible top started to glide down. Spanish guitar music was playing.
He had shades on, which annoyed her even further. He had taken off his jacket and tossed it on the seat beside him. His shirt was short-sleeved, and even from where she stood Justine could tell it was of high quality, the color of cantaloupe with vertical lime stripes. His arms were tanned, and she watched him reach over to grab a large brown envelope, turn down the music slightly and step out of his car. Without taking his gaze off her.
“I wanted you to have a glance at this, Miss Winter.” He held out the envelope.
Justine crossed her arms and frowned.
“It’s a development proposal drafted by an architect friend of mine. I would be happy to go over it with you.” When she didn’t respond, he added, “I would appreciate it if you at least gave the plan and the drawings a glance. They might help dispel some of your doubts about my venture.”
Justine stared at him coldly. “I’m not interested, Mr. Forrest. You’re wasting your time.” Her entire face felt flushed, the refreshed feeling after her swim completely dissipated.
He stood there for a moment, his mouth curving into a half-smile. He held the envelope in front of her for a few moments, then turned and tossed it into the Mustang. “Very well, Miss Wintry. Perhaps you need some time to think about it.”
“Not at all,” she returned curtly. “And my last name is Winter.”
“So sorry, Miss Winter.” He took off his sunglasses. “And mine’s Forrester.”
Justine’s knees felt weak. His dark eyes blazed at her in the sunlight. She knew she should apologize as well, but when she opened her mouth no words came out. She watched him get behind the wheel and put on his sunglasses.
“But you can call me Casson,” he said, and grinned before turning on the ignition.
He cranked up the music and with a few swift turns was out of her driveway and out of sight.
* * *
Now that he could no longer see Justine Winter in his rearview mirror, Casson concentrated on the road ahead. He loved this area. His family—which had included him and his younger brother Franklin—had always spent part of the summer at their friends’ cottage on Georgian Bay, and the tradition had continued even after they’d lost Franklin to leukemia when he was only seven years old.
Even after his parents and their friends had passed away, and the cottage had been sold, Casson had felt compelled to return regularly to the area. There would always be twinges of grief at his memories, but Casson didn’t want the memories to fade, and the familiar landscape brought him serenity and healing as well.
Determined to find a location for what would be “Franklin’s Resort,” he had spent months searching for the right spot. After finding out that the Russell properties were for sale, he’d hired a pilot to fly him over Georgian Bay’s 30,000 Islands area to scope out the parcels of land, which were on either side of Winter’s Haven.
The seductive curve of sandy beach, with the surf foaming along its edge, and the cottages set back among the thickly wooded terrain had given him a thrill. The bay, with its undulating waves of blue and indigo, sparkling like an endless motherlode of diamonds, had made his heartbeat quicken.
The sudden feeling that Franklin was somehow with him had sent shivers along his arms. Casson had always sensed that the spirit of Franklin was in Georgian Bay, and he’d had an overwhelming feeling that his search was over. He’d made the Russells an offer he was sure they couldn’t refuse and had then turned his attention to Winter’s Haven.
Now, as he sped past the mixed forest of white pine, birch and cedar, he caught glimpses of Georgian Bay, its surface glittering with pinpoints of sunlight. A mesmerizing blue.
Just like Justine Winter’s eyes.
The thought came before he could stop it. His lips curved into a smile. He hadn’t expected the new owner of Winter’s Haven to be so...striking. So outspoken. From the way her father had spoken he had expected someone a little more shy and reticent, someone more fragile.
“I’ve decided not to sell after all,” Thomas Winter had said, when he’d phoned him a few months earlier. “My daughter Justine has had enough of the big city—and a bad relationship—and she needs a new direction in life. A new venture that will lift her spirits. My wife and I have decided to offer the business to her and finally do some travelling. Winter’s Haven will be a good place for Justine to recover...”
Recover?
Casson had wondered if Mr. Winter’s daughter was emotionally healthy enough to maintain a business that had obviously thrived for years under her parents’ management. Which was why he’d decided to wait a couple of months before approaching her with his offer. With any luck the place would be in a shambles and she’d be ready to unload it. And even if that wasn’t the case, he’d come to learn that most people had their price...
At first glance Justine Winter had seemed anything but fragile. She had dashed into the office with damp hair, flushed cheeks, tanned arms and shapely legs under a flowered skirt that swayed with the movement of her hips. And as he’d sauntered toward her his eyes hadn’t been able to help sweeping over that peekaboo top, glimpsing the black bra underneath...
He had felt a sudden jolt. He had come to Winter’s Haven expecting a depressed young woman who had needed her parents to save her by offering her a lifeline. Not a woman whose firm curves and just-out-of-the-shower freshness had caused his body to stir uncontrollably...
And then she had turned to face him, her blue-gray eyes striking him like a cresting wave. And, no, it hadn’t looked like the place was anywhere near in a shambles, with her pining away for her former lover.
He had watched her expression flit from disbelief about his purchase of the adjoining Russell properties to wide-eyed amazement at his offer. And he had felt a momentary smugness when her gaze shifted and became dreamy.
She had been thinking about what she could do with the money. He’d been sure of it.
And then her gaze had snapped back to meet his, and the ice-blue hardness of her eyes and her flat-out refusal of his money had caused something within him to strike back with the prediction that she would eventually cave at a higher price.
He had almost been able to feel the flinty sparks from her eyes searing his back as he’d left...
Casson drove into the larger of the Russell properties—his properties now—and after greeting his dog, Luna, he grabbed a cold beer and plunked himself down into one of the Muskoka chairs on the wraparound porch.
Luna ran around the property for a while and then settled down beside him. Casson stared out at the flickering waters of the bay. It already felt like he had been there for years.
This really was a slice of heaven. Prime Group of Seven country.
Casson had grown up hearing about the Group of Seven as if they were actual members of his family. His grandfather’s friendship with A. J. Casson—who had been his neighbor for years—and the collection of Casson paintings he had eventually bequeathed to his only daughter, had resulted in Casson’s childhood being steeped in art knowledge and appreciation. Not only of A. J. Casson’s work, but the work of all the Group of Seven artists.
And now here he was as an adult, just days away from sponsoring and hosting Franklin & Casson on the Bay—an exhibition of the paintings of Franklin Carmichael and A. J. Casson at the Charles W. Stockey Centre for the Performing Arts in Parry Sound. The center was renowned for its annual Festival of the Sound summer classical music festival, as well as for housing the Bobby Orr Hall of Fame—a sports museum celebrating Parry Sound’s ice hockey legend.
It was all close to falling into place. This exhibition was the first step in making his resort a reality. Franklin’s Resort would be a non-profit venture, to honor the memory of its namesake and to provide a much-needed safe haven for families.
At the exhibition Casson would outline his plan to create a luxury haven for children after cancer treatment—a place to restore their strength and their spirit with their families, who would all have experienced trauma. The families would enjoy a week’s stay at the resort at no cost.
He had no doubt that the Carmichael/Casson exhibition would be successful in raising awareness and backing for his venture. And the pièce de résistance was a painting from his own personal collection. It was one of A. J. Casson’s early pieces, Storm on the Bay, and had been given to Casson’s grandfather when A.J. had been his neighbor. It was the prize in a silent auction, and Casson hoped it would attract a collector’s eye and boost the development of the resort.
A lump formed in his throat. He had been only ten when Franklin had died, and although he had not been able to articulate his feelings at the time, he knew now that he had coped with his feeling of helplessness by overcompensating in other ways. Helping with chores; learning to make meals as a teen and excelling at school, in sport and at university. Subconsciously he had done everything he could not to add to his parents’ misery.
After pursuing a Business and Commerce degree in Toronto, Casson had returned home to Huntsville—an hour away from Parry Sound—to purchase a struggling hardware store downtown. He had been grateful for the money his grandfather had left him in his will, which had enabled him to put a down payment on the business, and he’d vowed that he would make his grandpa proud.
Within a couple of years the store had been thriving, and Casson had set his sights on developing a chain. Six more years and he’d had stores in Gravenhurst, Bracebridge, Port Carling and—his most recent acquisition—a hardware store in Parry Sound, just outside the Muskoka area.
Casson had revived each store with innovative changes and promotions that would appeal both to the locals and the seasonal property-owners. The Forrest Hardware chain had made him a multi-millionaire by the time he was thirty-four.
Losing his brother at such a young age had affected Casson deeply; he hadn’t been able to control what happened to Franklin, so he had learned to take control of his own life early. He was still in control now, steering his expanding hardware chain, and yet he had no control over Justine Winter. Not that he wanted to control her; he simply wanted control of Winter’s Haven. Her property was the last piece of the puzzle that he needed to fit into his plan.
Earlier, the thought had flashed into his mind to invite Justine to go with him to the Stockey Centre the following day—to show her that his motive when it came to the Russell properties and Winter’s Haven was not one of financial gain, as she had immediately assumed. However, the fact that he’d even considered telling Justine the truth shocked him... He never talked about Franklin. He’d learned to keep those feelings hidden.
Why had he nearly told her?
It might have had something to do with those initial sparks between them...
Anyway, he hadn’t wanted to show his vulnerability or how much this venture meant to him as a tribute to his brother. So instead he had thrust his offer upon Justine with the arrogant expectation that she would be so dazzled by the amount she’d agree to it, no questions asked.
And if she had asked questions he wouldn’t have been prepared to open up his soul to her. Tell her that he was doing this not only for Franklin, but for himself. For all the lonely years he had spent after his brother’s death, unable to share his grief with his mother, whose pain at losing Franklin had created an emotional barrier that even Casson could not penetrate. His father had thrown himself into his work, and when he was at home had seemed to have only enough energy to provide a comforting shoulder for his wife.
It was only in later years that Casson had contemplated going to a few sessions of grief counselling. It had been emotionally wrenching to relive the past, but Casson had eventually forgiven his parents. It had been during that time that his idea for a resort to help kids like Franklin had begun to take root. What he hadn’t been able to do for Franklin at ten years of age, he could now do for many kids like him—including his godson Andy, his cousin Veronica’s only child.
Andy’s cancer diagnosis a year earlier had shocked Casson, and triggered memories and feelings of the past. Supporting Andy and Veronica during subsequent treatment had made him all the more determined to see his venture become a reality. Casson just wished his parents were still alive to witness it as well...
Franklin & Casson on the Bay was only a few days away. His plan was on target. There was one key missing.
And Justine had it.
Casson took a gulp of his beer. Damn, it was hot. He loosened his tie. As he contemplated changing and going for a swim, a vision of Justine Winter standing with wet hair in her bathing suit flashed in his memory. That turquoise one-piece had molded to the heady curves of her body, and her tanned thighs and legs had been sugared with white beach sand that sparkled in the sun. Her hair, straight and dripping water over her cleavage... An enchanting sea creature...
He had sensed her discomfort, knew how exposed she’d felt. If only she knew what the sight of her body had done to him.
Casson unbuttoned his shirt and went inside to change. A dip in the refreshing waters of Georgian Bay would cool him down—inside and out...
* * *
Casson stretched out on the edge of the dock to let the sun heat his body. There was nothing like that first dive into the bay when your body was sizzling hot. He closed his eyes for a few moments, and when he opened them, wondered if he had dozed off. Although he had slapped on some sunscreen earlier, his skin felt slightly more burnished.
He scrambled to his feet and Luna shuffled excitedly around him. Casson heard a faint voice calling him, but when he turned there was nobody there. There was some rustling in the trees and a flash of blue, followed by the shrill call of a blue jay.
Casson looked down at the water, anticipating the bracing pleasure awaiting him. A hint of a breeze tickled his nose, followed by the faint smell of fish. He blinked at his reflection, wiping at the sweat prickling his eyes. In the gently lapping bay he imagined Franklin beside him, wearing his faded Toronto Blue Jays cap, his skinny arms holding a fishing rod with its catch of pickerel and his toothy grin. And the sparkle in his eyes...
And then the sparkle was lost in the sun’s glittering reflection and the image was swallowed up by the waves. Casson dropped down to sit at the edge of the dock, his original intention forgotten. He continued to peer intensely into the water, and it was only moments later, when Luna pressed against him to lick his face, that Casson realized she was licking the salty tears on his cheeks.
CHAPTER TWO
THE RAIN DRUMMING on the roof woke Justine an hour before she’d intended. She didn’t mind at all, though. Rainy days were good for doing odd jobs, renovating an empty cottage, or just relaxing with a good book in the window seat in her room. It was one of her favorite reading spots, with its plush flowery cushions and magnificent view of the bay.
Justine changed into jeans and a nautical-style T-shirt, brushed her hair back into a ponytail, and went downstairs. After having a quick coffee and one of the banana yogurt muffins she had made last night, she grabbed her umbrella and dashed to her car.
Despite the fact that she had always liked this kind of weather, Justine couldn’t help but feel a twist in her stomach, remembering the rainy day she’d walked into Robert Morrell’s law office for an interview. She’d been twenty-four, and had graduated summa cum laude in Law and Justice from the University of Toronto. That and her business electives had impressed Robert and Clare, his senior administrative assistant, who would be retiring in six months, and Robert had offered her the job the following day.
As time had progressed the initial rapport between them had developed into an easy friendship. Justine had sometimes stayed at the office during lunchtime, catching up on paperwork between bites of her sandwich or salad. And Robert, to her surprise, had often done the same, claiming he wanted to go home at a decent hour so his wife wouldn’t complain that he was “married to the job.”
Shared conversations had begun to take on a more personal note during Justine’s second year at the office, and when Robert had started to hint at his marriage breakdown she had felt compelled to listen and comfort him as he’d revealed more and more.
The underlying spark of attraction between them had not come to the forefront until after his divorce had almost become final. Then, with nothing and nobody to hold them back, Justine and Robert had begun dating...
Justine forced Robert out of her thoughts as she turned the corner and drove into the parking lot of the hardware store, finding a spot near the front doors. Something looked vaguely different about the place, and then she realized the signage had changed. New ownership, she had heard.
Without bothering to get her umbrella, she dashed into the store and toward the wood department.
“May I help you?”
Justine turned to find a middle-aged employee smiling at her.
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Blake,” she said, smiling back. “Glad to see you’re still here. I’d like to order some cedar paneling for one of the cottages.”
“I thought it was you. Back from Toronto, I hear. Your dad told me you’d be taking over Winter’s Haven.”
Justine nodded. “I’m glad to be back.”
As she handed him a piece of paper with the measurements a feeling of contentedness came over her. She had made the right decision, coming back home.
This was what she loved about living in a small town—knowing the names of local merchants, dealing with people who knew her parents.
She had felt the call of the big city, and had enjoyed it for a time, but the breakup with Robert and the lonely month that had followed had made her realize how truly alone she was. With no job and no meaningful friendships—the people Robert had introduced her to didn’t qualify—she’d yearned for the small-town connections of Parry Sound. Home. The place she had always felt safe in, nurtured and supported by family, friends and community.
“Are you thinking of running the business on a permanent basis?” Mr. Blake glanced at her curiously.
“I sure am.” She beamed. “I can’t imagine ever leaving Winter’s Haven again.”
Mr. Blake glanced over her shoulder, as if he were looking for someone, and then gave her a hesitant smile. “Well, good luck to you. When your order is ready I’ll give you a call. You can let me know then when you want the job done.”
“Sounds good!” Justine leafed through her bag and took out her car keys. “Thanks, Mr. Blake, and have a great day.”
Justine strode toward the exit, wondering why the expression on his face had seemed to change after her saying she couldn’t imagine ever leaving Winter’s Haven. She grimaced when she came to the door. The rain was coming down in torrents now, and she regretted leaving her umbrella in the car. She would get drenched despite the short distance.
She made a run for it, giving a yelp as she stepped in a sizeable puddle.