Make-Believe Match (Cherry Tree Harbor #3) Read Online Melanie Harlow

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic Tags Authors: Series: Cherry Tree Harbor Series by Melanie Harlow
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Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
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(I mentioned I’m not above using my charm when it serves my purpose, right?)

But I couldn’t help thinking this served her purpose too. There was no way she was going to convince her grandmother to hand her the deed to this resort—not without a husband. And even if she somehow managed to circumvent the will, the place was going to go under without serious money behind it, fast. Her best option was to take her share of the sale price and start over somewhere new.

You couldn’t live in the past. You had to keep moving forward.

It took me a little time to wind my way toward Lexi’s condominium complex. I knew roughly where it was, but because we’d approached it from the highway the other night, I hadn’t realized its proximity to Snowberry Lodge.

Also, I’d had other things on my mind, like getting her naked. Feeling those legs wrapped around me. Putting my tongue on those perky little nipples poking through the white material of her dress.

Fuck. Shifting in the driver’s seat, I adjusted the crotch of my pants.

As I followed the service road from the lodge around the perimeter of the resort toward the area where I thought her condo was located, I couldn’t help noticing that Snowberry did still have some charm. The area was beautiful, the grounds were well-kept, if a little shabby, and there was something romantic about the place. Something nostalgic. I could see a certain kind of person being drawn to this rather than to a mega-resort. It was sweet and peaceful.

I found myself thinking about the changes I would make to modernize it while retaining its quaint personality. What a rebranding would look like, both in person and in the marketing. How I’d sell investors on the idea. What the talking points would be. The seed of a new challenge tried to take root, and I immediately brushed it off.

My challenge was to close this deal for Black Diamond Resorts. Get the promotion I deserved. Get the raise and corner office and year-end bonus that accompanied it. Upgrade my apartment, my car, maybe my watch. Book a trip to a five-start resort somewhere tropical. I liked nice things.

But no one just handed you life’s prizes. You had to win them. I was good at the game, and I prided myself on playing it fair and square.

But I wasn’t completely selfish—I liked giving back too. My work with Camp Lemonade meant a lot to me. My siblings and I had been lucky. After our mom died, we’d had our dad and other family and a tightly knit small-town community there to support us. But a lot of kids didn’t have that, or their families lacked the resources for counseling.

I wasn’t planning to get married or have children of my own, but when I saw those kids laughing and enjoying themselves for two weeks every summer, able to forget everything and just run free and have fun, I understood the instinct to be a father. To take care of someone. It just felt good.

When Lexi’s condo building came into view, I drove up the hill into the lot and pulled into one of the spots marked GUEST. Checking my reflection in the visor mirror, I messed with my hair a little, checked my teeth, and examined my jaw for any nicks from this morning’s shave. Then I got out of the car and climbed the porch steps to her door.

She had a welcome mat that read Cead Mile Failte, which I knew meant a hundred thousand welcomes in Gaelic. I knocked on the door and prayed for the luck of the Irish.

Didn’t work. She opened it, took one look at me, and slammed it again.

I knocked once more. “Lexi, come on. Can we talk?”

“No! I can’t even believe you had the nerve to show up here.”

“Would you rather I called first? Your grandmother gave me your number.”

“Oh my God. Tell me she didn’t.”

Pulling my phone from my suit jacket pocket, I called her. It rang a few times. “You going to answer, or should I leave a message?”

She picked up. “Don’t bother.”

“So are you going to let me in?” I stared at the thick wooden door that separated us.

“Not on your life.”

“Why not? Are you busy?”

“I will be in a minute—changing my phone number.”

“Your doormat here says a hundred thousand welcomes.”

“So?”

“All I need is one.”

“You had your one!” she shouted. “And you tricked me to get it!”

“No, I didn’t. Look, Lexi. Let’s not fight. Your grandmother asked me to speak with you.”

“Then speak.”

“Can’t we talk face to face?”

“No. I don’t trust you.” She paused. “Or myself. It’s better if I can’t see you.”

That made me smile. “Okay, fine. We’ll talk on the phone. Let me sit down.” I lowered myself into the Adirondack chair next to her front door. “You have a nice view,” I told her, scanning the woods across from her building.


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