just say?â
âYou sure you donât want to tour a guest room? You said before, the order in which you wanted to tour: first the great room, a guest room, the restaurant and kitchen, and then the outdoors.â
âOh.â She clutched her portfolio in front of her. âNo. Itâs fine.â
Surely she didnât think heâd meant . . . Oh.
âI didnât mean it like go to a room .â
Madison pinned him with a dead-eyed stare.
Damn. Damn . Heâd guessed way off base. âNot that . . . Iâm not saying thatâs what you thought. Iâm saying, just in case it came out like that, I donât want you to misinterpret . . .â He was making it worse. A lot worse. Not quite as bad as being caught with a mouthful of two, count them, two cookies, but still pretty damn awkward. âNever mind. So, this is the veranda.â He held an arm out toward the view.
He was a lot of things, but the smarmy guy who hit on a woman with some two-bit line? Hell no. She was undeniably attractive, but a woman involved in his business was strictly that.
âItâs fine. I know what you meant.â Madison took off walking again, her heels clicking on the stone flooring of the veranda.
A wave of relief blew over him like cool air and he hurried to join her. With her height, and a pair of long legs that he was working very hard not to notice, he had some catching up to do.
All right, that much was a lie. Heâd noticed her legs. Wearing tailored gray pants and a matching jacket, cinched in to highlight her waist. The lady knew how to wear a business suit, but he was trying to be a gentleman and not fixate on . . . things.
Like the sharpness in Madisonâs green eyes, the smooth arch of her neck, the way she fought smiling, so that the corner of her lips curled up mischievously.
Dammit.
Devlin was right. He needed to get out more.
She finally stopped speed walking when she reached the wrought-iron banister. âThis is lovely.â Her shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath, her blond hair in a perfect twist at the nape of her neck.
âI told you.â He finally caught up to her.
Roark threw a covert glance in her direction, under the guise of checking out a view heâd seen hundreds of times. All he could do was try to get a read on what she thought of the place.
She seemed to like Honeywilde, but she wasnât exactly telegraphing her reactions.
Everything about Madison was hard to read. She started to joke with him one moment, then completely shut down. She shared some information and went airtight on the rest. Roark was playing guessing games when it came to Madison Kline. He wasnât sure if he liked it or not, but it wasnât helping his confidence about this deal. Booking a wedding could be a boon for the inn, and they desperately needed a boon right now.
In the midst of their quietly taking in the view, Madison suddenly sparked to life. She stepped away from the banister and did a 360-degree turn, studying the veranda. âI think you could comfortably seat forty people out here. Wouldnât you say?â
âForty would be comfortable.â He hopped topic trains to keep up with her. âYouâd still have nice space for the ceremony official, wedding party, and musicians if you want them. Seating for fifty-five would be cozy but doable. The one time we had more seating than that, it was too much. Most people shoot for fifty.â
âThank you for the insight,â she said without smiling.
âYouâre welcome.â Part of owning an inn and resort was selling it, and he had to sell people on Honeywilde. He and his family relied on it, and heâd learned at the wise old age of seven, that if he didnât take care of his family, nobody else would.
âI bet the sunsets here are nice.â She held her portfolio tight and looked out over the mountains again.
He joined her, taking in the sight of the