"Have you checked with any of the local real estate people?" he asked her finally, turning to face her.
"No." Elinor shook her head. "I don't think any of them have experience with an historical property like this. There aren't that many plantation houses in this area. Besides, I don't want a lot of gossip. I'm not even sure that selling it is the best thing."
Cole walked back to where she sat, hating himself for having to deceive her. Even if he hadn't intended this development, he still couldn't excuse himself. He'd encouraged her to confide in him when he wasn't being completely honest with her. And eventually, she'd find out.
When the purchase of Oakleigh was finalized, his identity would be known.
"It must be difficult to think of selling your heritage," he ventured, very aware of how alone they were here in the silent cottage. Her scent was everywhere. It had played insidiously on his senses from the moment she'd opened the door.
"It's not like I grew up here," Elinor responded, looking embarrassed.
"No, but your father did."
She got up from the couch, bending to fidget with a pillow in the chair. Cole's gaze followed the shapely curve of her hip, the thin knit of her pants stretching as she bent.
"Growing up a Prescott of Oakleigh wasn't an advantage for my father," Elinor said.
"It wasn't?"
She smiled sadly. "Everything else in his life was a come-down. He always felt like a failure."
"I'm sorry," Cole murmured. From the little she'd let slip, her childhood hadn't been a picnic. He had a sudden, insane desire to make it up to her.
"Water under the bridge," she stated, shrugging again.
Standing there in her comfortable office with her tumble of dark hair and her honest eyes, her closeness called to him as powerfully as a seductress. And he couldn't understand why. Why did this woman affect him so intensely that he found himself questioning his goals?
He should refer her to a good real estate attorney. Cole knew two of them off the top of his head. But despite his twinges of guilt, he liked Elinor confiding in him. He didn't want to end that.
And if he didn't send her to someone else immediately, he'd have another reason to see her.
"I can have one of my attorneys check about the house's market value," Cole said, slowly moving closer to where she stood. "If you'd like."
"That would be very nice, Cole. I'd appreciate it."
The unguarded gratitude in her eyes pierced him, and wrapped one more thread of determination around his heart. Somehow he had to find a way to get Oakleigh, and Elinor Prescott. He knew troubled water loomed ahead. She was bound to be perturbed when she learned that he'd bought the house, but he'd deal with that when it happened.
***
"Elinor!"
She paused on the sidewalk, shading her eyes to look for whoever had called her.
"Over here!" Cole's luxury sedan idled beside the curb. He waved her over.
Hoisting her bulging briefcase, Elinor slipped her foot back into her high-heeled pump. Cole had pulled into a loading zone, apparently unconcerned about traffic laws.
"Hello, Cole." She dropped her briefcase on the curb and leaned wearily against his car.
"My goodness, woman. You look worn out already and the day's just half over."
"Have you ever tried to explain a software program to a sixty-year-old bookkeeper?" Elinor asked him.
"Not that I recall."
"Well, it's enough to wear anyone out," she declared reaching down to pull off the pump again, one hand balancing on the car's hood. She'd just bought these shoes, and the salesman had sworn they could be worn comfortably for twenty-four hours straight. Elinor hated salesmen.
"You've been working too hard" Cole announced as he opened his door and got out. "What you need is a break, and I'm just the man to make it happen."
"To make what happen?" she asked with foreboding.
"Regardless of what you may think," he said ignoring her question, "this is not a chance encounter." He leaned toward her, his strong arms braced on the open car door. "I've been looking for you."
Elinor felt her mouth twitch. "For me?" she said doubtfully, fluttering her eyelashes.
"Yes, ma'am," he asserted firmly. "With your workaholic pace, you've been denying me my opportunity to influence your vote on my factory."
"Cole," Elinor began with real uneasiness. "I don't think . . ."
"Shame on you, Miss Prescott, for shying away from your duty." Cole placed his right hand over his heart and a soulfully patriotic smirk on his face. "Lobbying is the American way."
Elinor broke into laughter, her defenses dissolving under the onslaught of his silliness.
"What kind of lobbying do you have in mind?" she asked as he lifted her briefcase.
"Just a little trip," he said lightly, depositing the stuffed case in the backseat.
"Now, wait a second," she protested as Cole gently steered around to the passenger seat. "I don't have time for—"
"Lunch," he interrupted.
"Lunch? That's all?" Elinor peered at him through the open window as he closed her door.
Cole leaned closer. "We won't go any further than you want to," he promised softly, his eyes connecting with hers.
Elinor gulped as he walked around to the driver's seat. What the heck had she let herself in for?
"Exactly how far do we have to travel for this lunch?" she ventured to ask as they drove out of downtown Bayville.
"I figure ten years ought to do it."
"Ten years?"
He glanced away from the road his eyes scanning her briefly. "By my guess, you're around twenty-eight years old—"
"How kind of you to notice," Elinor commented her voice dry.
"—and that would mean you were eighteen, ten years ago—”
"A man with your math skills could have a future in accounting," she inserted with a smirk.
"—and since eighteen is a time of reckless innocence, I figured ten years back ought to do it," he concluded.
"Reckless innocence?" echoed Elinor hollowly.
"Yes." Cole reached over and patted her knee. "Nothing more rejuvenating than reckless innocence."