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Port Canaveral.
    Unless…
    Unless he pulled some strings. Normally, he reserved such clout-flexing for emergencies, and while the sale of the Super Min didn’t exactly qualify as life-threatening, it certainly would be life-changing.
    He stopped rubbing his thumb against his fingers and lightly smacked his forehead. Wealth gave him the ability to reach across a continent and demand to speak with his aunt. Common sense kept him from doing it. His mom and his aunts had been dreaming of this getaway for the better part of a decade. He wouldn’t interrupt their vacation to satisfy his own curiosity.
    Wondering why exactly his aunt had wanted him on Mimosa Key at this particular time, he ran a hand through his hair. Charity had been right when she pointed out that he was long overdue for a visit. The summers he’d spent on the island had been some of the best of his life, and he’d been meaning to come back, to explore his old haunts, to reconnect. But he had a sneaking suspicion that there was more to his aunt’s agenda than making up for lost time with her only nephew.
    He shook his head. One thing about his aunt Charity, no one had ever accused her of being straightforward. She’d always been a master at working several angles at once. He knew that about her and loved her for it. Now that he thought about it, though, the bossy old bat had probably enticed him to Mimosa Key in hopes that, once he filled in for her at the Super Min, he’d help her out financially when she finally did approach him.
    The subterfuge was completely unnecessary. Charity was family. He hoped she knew she could count on him. That he was in Mimosa Key instead of Atlanta this week proved his willingness to help out. As long as he had the means, he’d pitch in rather than placing the Super Min in the hands of perfect strangers.
    Although, perfect was the right word to describe Charlie Oak. From the golden locks she fiddled with while she talked, to the sharp intelligence that danced behind an incredible pair of green eyes, one look at the pert blonde had convinced him she met every qualification for his ideal woman…and more. While she wasn’t looking, he’d studied the dark lashes that practically brushed the tops of sun-kissed cheeks. The straightforward jut of her chin angled so steeply over her slender neck it practically called to him to rain kisses down her throat. He wanted to find out what it’d be like to peel the black jacket from her shoulders, trail his fingers along her curves. He longed to span her narrow waist with his hands and pull her to him. To steal a kiss from lips so sexy they should come with a warning label.
    But, no matter how perfect Charlie was, she’d come to Mimosa Key to buy a slice of his history, and he couldn’t let her succeed. He cupped his chin in his hand, his fingers stroking the three-day growth he hadn’t bothered to shave. He needed information. With Charity out of touch for the time being, there was only one source he could turn to.
    Undoubtedly, Charlie knew why his aunt was willing to part with the family business. He could work with that. It shouldn’t be all that difficult to convince her to tell him everything she knew. She already thought he was worried about keeping his job at the Super Min—an assumption he hadn’t corrected. Until he did, he’d wine and dine her, earn her trust, and soon enough, she’d spill everything she knew about Favor’s intention to purchase the mini-mart. Then, once he uncovered Charity’s true motivation in selling, he’d come clean about who he really was.
    He examined his plan from several angles before deciding there was only one possible hitch. To succeed, he’d need to keep his true identity under wraps. Could he? He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. He’d never have been able to pull off the ruse in Atlanta, where doormen knew him by name and his staff rushed to do his bidding whether he wanted them to or not.
    But here on Mimosa Key, things were