“I know and I appreciate that,” Gracie said. “I only just finished paying off my bank loan and it was a bear. But this man has real estate and hospitality experience, not like a bank lender. He’d be more of a partner.”
“A partner?”
“Well, think of him like one of those Shark Tank guys, only for property instead of products. He said he would?—”
“I can’t wait any longer.”
Startled, Cindy sucked in a soft breath and looked up—way up—into the face of a man smiling down at her.
“You must be Aunt Cindy. I’m Henry.” He held out a hand to her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
As if her body had a will of its own, Cindy stood slowly, taking hold of the strong, slightly calloused hand that gripped hers. Even standing to her full five-foot-six, she still had to look up a bit to meet a blue-gray gaze of a man about her age, with a head of salt-and-pepper hair and an even more peppery close-cropped beard.
He wore rimless glasses and a navy cable-knit sweater which all gave him kind of a professorial look. A slate-colored wool coat, about a shade darker than his eyes, hung over his arm.
“Hello…Henry,” she managed, taken aback by the sheer power of the man. “Yes, I’m Cindy Kessler.”
“Henry Lassiter.” He shook her hand, never taking his inviting gaze from hers. “Gracie’s told me so much about you—and your lovely property. Full disclosure, I sneaked over there yesterday, bought a pair of gloves from the shop, and took the nice young woman’s advice to stroll the property. It’s one in a million. Can we talk?”
For a moment, she just stared at him, feeling a strange weakness in her knees. And a sense of…familiarity. She didn’t know the man and certainly would have remembered meeting him had she bumped into him at Snowberry Lodge yesterday.
“May I?” he added when she didn’t answer, gesturing to the table.
“Sit right here, Henry,” Gracie said, instantly vacating her seat. “I’ll bring you a coffee and let you two get acquainted.”
Gracie whisked away and Henry folded his coat over the back of the chair. While he did, Cindy looked past him at her reflection in the pastry case, suddenly smoothing a hand through her blond waves, wishing she’d taken a little more care with her makeup. She had no idea she’d meet a handsome stranger today.
Her cheeks flushed at the thought—the man wanted to invest in her property, not ask her on a date. But still, he had a strong presence, and something wassofamiliar about him. She couldn’t pinpoint it.
“Have you been in Park City for very long?” she asked as he settled in, certain she must have met him somewhere. Maybe at a business owners networking event or even something social in town.
“I have a home in the canyons—Little Cottonwood, on the outskirts of Salt Lake. I assume you’re familiar with it?”
She nodded, knowing the very upscale suburb. “You haveahome?” she laughed softly. “How many do you have?”
He chuckled. “Just two that I live in. The other is in southern California, where I go when I desperately need a beach.”
Gracie came right back with his coffee, her eyes bright. “I really hope you two hit it off,” she said. “Henry might have some good ideas, Aunt Cindy. I hope it…well, I hope you agree.”
When she left, they looked at each other, both laughing at the awkward moment.
“I take it you’re not thinking about an investor?” he guessed.
“Not really.”
He smiled, lifting his mug in a mock toast. “Here’s to new solutions to old problems.”
He held her gaze with a glimmer in his eyes and, she couldn’t help noticing, no ring on his left hand.
Cindy just answered with her own smile, sipping her coffee and letting him lead the conversation.
“So,” he said, bracing his elbows on the tabletop. “You need money.”
She laughed. “That’s an auspicious opening.”
“Not for me,” he replied. “I’m an investor. And I invest in properties exactly like yours.”
Easing back, she took a slow breath, sensing she’d need her wits about her for this conversation. “How much has Gracie told you?” she asked.
