Once Upon a Valentine

by Stephanie Bond

  “It’s not the absolute end of Barber’s formula,” she said. “I’ll still use it, and I’ll groom the horses with it as long as they’re around.”

  He toyed with the stem of his glass. “Tessa said the State Park is interested in buying the farm. Maybe they’ll be willing to fund a horse-rescue center.”

  She gave him a tight smile. “I’ve worked for the Park for a long time. They simply don’t have the funds to invest in a venture that doesn’t generate revenue.”

  He inclined his head, conceding she was probably right.

  She shifted in her chair, then gestured to their festive surroundings. “I’m sorry about the misunderstanding that we’re here on a date.”

  “It’s okay. I suppose to outsiders, we look like a couple.”

  A blush tinged her cheeks, and he realized that despite the letdown over the lack of interest in the special conditioner, she was enjoying the moment. She probably didn’t get many chances to dress up and dine in upscale surroundings in Tiny.

  When the music changed to a slow song and she glanced wistfully at the couples gathering on the small dance floor, Andrew told himself it wouldn’t hurt anything to ask her to dance. But when she moved into his arms under the twinkling overhead lights, he realized he was sorely testing his resolve not to bed her. With her willowy body pressing against his and her golden hair swirling around her shoulders, it wasn’t much of a stretch to imagine the two of them horizontal, indulging in a different kind of dance altogether.

  The woman had him tied in knots, he acknowledged as the night wore on.

  The food was delicious and the more wine Summer drank, the more animated she became. Over the shared meal, they conversed easily about growing up in Tiny, laughing over collective memories. She was well-read and plugged into current events. Her values and beliefs mirrored his on many issues, but she was congenial and open-minded. He couldn’t remember a more enjoyable meal.

  “You’re staring at my mouth,” Summer said, lifting her napkin. “Do I have a smudge?”

  “No, your mouth is just very…red. It’s nice,” he added quickly, then realized he sounded like an idiot. “It must be from the wine.”

  She touched her fingers to her mouth. “The host of the shopping channel gave me a tube of the mood lipstick they were selling.”

  He squinted. “I vaguely remember…it’s supposed to change colors?”

  She nodded.

  “Depending on what?”

  She arched an eyebrow and gave him a knowing look.

  His body reacted, sending a rush of blood to his midsection.

  “How red is it?” she asked, pursing into a pout and leaning closer. “Like a cherry?”

  He swallowed painfully.

  She leaned closer. “Like a strawberry?”

  It was getting harder to breathe…and harder everywhere else, too.

  “Like a siren?” she whispered.

  Thank goodness, the waiter arrived with dessert, breaking into the red-hot exchange. Andrew lifted his napkin to dab at the perspiration beaded at his hairline. The woman was killing him.

  Over a decadent chocolate dessert, their forks touched above the table while their knees touched underneath. And by the time they returned to their rooms, their hands and hips brushed at every step. When they stopped in front of her door, Andrew’s reasons for not sleeping with Summer were in danger of being overridden by all the reasons he should.

  He no longer had to worry about the complication of being tied to her over marketing his father’s formula. In fact, since he’d be leaving soon, he didn’t have to worry about any ties at all. After his father’s land was sold, he didn’t foresee a reason to ever return to Tiny.

  Besides, he thought languidly, the way she toyed with her amazing hair and stared into his eyes told him she recognized the heat they generated. And her lips were so red and juicy, they looked as if they might pop. So why was he hesitant?

  Because Summer Tomlinson was not one-night-stand material. She had that dreamy forever look in her eyes that scared him more than the thought of being mugged on a dark New York street.

  “Good night,” he said abruptly, then turned to go, only to be brought up short by a tug and a yelp.

  Summer’s hair was caught in a button on his jacket.

  “Ow,” she said, leaning toward him.

  He fumbled to free the blond strands, but in the low lighting of the hallway, he only succeeded in making things worse.

  “Ow, ow, ow.”

  “Sorry. Maybe you should try.”

  But she couldn’t turn her head to see the button. “Can you take off your jacket?”

  They twisted in every direction, but it was hopeless. Summer alternately groaned and laughed, holding her head. “Stop, please—I have scissors in my room.”

  She reached into her purse, then handed him her key card. He opened the door and awkwardly walked inside with her attached to him like a Siamese twin. She gestured blindly toward the bathroom.

  “We need to move in that direction to find my toiletry kit.”

  They moved as if they were shackled together, giving in to bursts of laughter. After much clumsy rummaging, Summer finally retrieved the scissors from her bag and handed them to Andrew.

  He balked. “I can’t cut your hair.”

  “You’ll have to. I can’t see the knot.”

  Panic seized him at the thought of slicing off even a tiny section of her glorious hair. “But…will it grow back?”

  She laughed. “Eventually. But if you don’t hurry, I’m going to have a permanent crook in my neck.”

  He swallowed and positioned the scissors close to the tangle around his button. In two snips, she was free, leaving a strand of golden hair in his hand.

  She surveyed the damage, dismissed it with a wave, then held up a trash can for him.

  “You’re just going to throw it away?” he asked.

  She smiled. “If I were home, I’d put it in the garden for the birds to use to build nests.”

  He released the thatch of flaxen hair and watched it float into the can.

  “I keep getting caught on you,” she said with a laugh.

  He nodded, thinking he should leave before something else of hers wound up wrapped around him.

  “I should go,” he said. But his feet wouldn’t move.

  Summer was twisting a lock of her shiny hair around her finger. Somewhere along the way, the rose bloom behind her ear had been lost. The golden mane was mussed from their earlier contortions with the jacket. Her blue eyes and red mouth were still soft from the wine. She was, without a doubt, the most sexy woman he’d ever seen.

  He had to get out of there.

  She lifted the twisted strand of hair and used the silky end to caress his cheek. “Don’t go, Andrew. Spend the night with me.”

  JUST LIKE THAT, ALL OF his honorable intentions and steely resolve went out the window. He captured Summer’s mouth in a kiss before she could change her mind. But now that the decision had been made, she seemed as eager to get to it as he was.

  Their kiss morphed from hurried to fierce. They pushed and pulled at each other’s clothes until he was naked and she wore only tiny red bikini panties and the strappy red high heels. Her body was long and lean, with a tapered waist, and thighs toned from riding. From her navel gleamed a tiny gold ring. Her luxurious hair hung over each shoulder, covering her breasts. She was such a vision, Andrew was hard as a stone from wanting her.

  She was drinking him in, too. She reached forward to trail her finger down his chest to his stomach. “I always fantasized about you,” she murmured. “I always thought you were the most handsome man I’d ever seen.”

  A smile curved his mouth. “What about now?”

  Her gaze and hand lowered before she made eye contact again. “Now, I know you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

  Andrew groaned at her soft, velvety touch. His erection surged in her hand. He pulled her close and finally, after days of wondering what
it would feel like, he sank his hands into the depths of her golden hair.

  It was like spun silk—sumptuous and fluid in his fingers. He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her mouth to his for a deep, languid kiss. He wanted to devour her, could feel a tide of desire rising in him like he’d never felt before. He pushed aside her hair and laved her breasts until her dark pink nipples beaded in his mouth. Every sigh, every gasp she uttered fueled his passion. He felt drunk on her, almost disoriented by her ministrations on his sex. Never before had he almost forgotten a condom, never before had he felt so desperate to give and take pleasure. When he held his body over Summer’s, cradled between her thighs, her hair fanned around her like a gossamer veil, he was struck with a primal urgency to drive his body into hers. When he thrust into her at last, he felt as if he was falling.

  She was a verbal lover, candid about what she liked. He found her pleasure points and worked them until she broke in his arms. Seeing her trembling in climax propelled him over the edge. He burst inside her with an intensity that bordered on pain, then fell forward, burying his face in her encompassing hair. She smelled like fresh air and sunshine and all the good things of country living.

  Things he thought he’d gotten out of his system, things he’d left behind to follow his dreams in New York.

  When his heartbeat slowed, Andrew rolled over and pulled Summer onto his chest. She sighed in his ear and curled her body into his. His body pulsed in recovery while his mind clicked with revelation. Making love to Summer had taken him to a new physical plane. Their chemistry was unbelievable.

  Truly, it had to be a fluke.

  The only remedy, he decided as he rolled her onto her back and kissed her hard, was to do it again....

  ANDREW SLIPPED OUT OF her bed before dawn. He dressed quietly while staring at Summer’s sleeping figure tangled in the sheets. The way her glorious mane of hair swirled around her nude body made her look like a mythical creature. His body ached from their ardent lovemaking, and his mind reeled from the implications. The fact that he didn’t want to leave alarmed him—and hastened his exit.

  When he closed the door behind him, he paused in the hallway to drag his hand down his face. His plan had been to get in and out of Tiny as quickly as possible.

  He hadn’t counted on this…this…complication.

  9

  THE NEXT MORNING when Summer stepped out into the hallway to meet Andrew for breakfast, she had to grip her purse to keep from reaching out to touch him. Her body still tingled from his lovemaking—sex with him had been better than she’d ever allowed herself to imagine. Even now, her body was flush with desire, and her heart was flush with…love?

  It must be love, she decided when he smiled at her. She’d never felt this way before—shaky, as if she were teetering on a precipice…on one side was sheer happiness and the other, sheer heartache. Surely Andrew had felt their cataclysmic emotional connection.

  He winked and angled his head. “Are we good?”

  Her lips parted in surprise. His casual indifference stung, but Summer adopted her best impression of a modern woman the morning after a meaningless hookup. “Sure.”

  She reminded herself that she’d wanted to seduce him. She had no right to expect anything more from the one-night stand. But after spending a night in his arms, feeling his heart beat beneath her cheek, she couldn’t help but fantasize about the possibilities of a happily ever after.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I’m…starving.”

  By the time they reached the restaurant, her heart rate had stabilized and she was breathing normally. The change in the hotel dining room mirrored the change in their interaction from last night to this morning—the roses and wine had been replaced by carnations and orange juice. Their light conversation centered around her job and the things he had left to do around his father’s property.

  Once, when their hands brushed reaching for a saltshaker, their gazes locked and she thought she saw a flash of desire in his light brown eyes, but it passed. On the drive home, he was relatively silent except for the calls he made and received regarding his job. Because his phone was connected to the dashboard monitor, she got to listen in. The range of discussions was impressive and Andrew’s opinion was obviously sought after—it all sounded very exciting.

  And far removed from her small existence in Tiny, which was now only a few miles away. Their time in Nashville was already starting to feel like a dream.

  Andrew’s phone rang. The name “Charles Basker” flashed on the dashboard monitor.

  “I wonder what Charles wants,” Andrew murmured.

  “Probably to discuss the aftermath,” Summer joked.

  He hit a button and spoke into the hands-free microphone. “Hey, Charles.”

  “Andrew, glad I caught you. I have news.”

  “I’m listening. Summer is here, too.”

  “Good. It turns out that when the segment for Mane Squeeze ran yesterday, regional phone grids were down because of the storm—land lines and mobile networks, too.”

  “We noticed our own phone networks were down,” Andrew said. “Do you think that’s why we didn’t get many orders?”

  “I know it is. Our switchboard has been flooded with calls all morning from people wanting the ‘stuff that the blonde with the gorgeous hair was using.’”

  Summer exchanged a glance with Andrew. Excitement bubbled in her chest, although Andrew’s expression was more cautious.

  “How many calls?” he asked.

  “So far, we have orders for eight thousand units.”

  Summer gasped. Eight thousand?

  “And the orders are still rolling in,” Charles added.

  Andrew’s hands tightened on the steering wheel and he gave a little laugh. “Charles, I wasn’t expecting this kind of response. I don’t know if we can have that much product ready in six weeks.”

  “I hear you, but you have to decide now whether you’re going to take your father’s product to the next level. I took the liberty of making a couple of phone calls—Prince Manufacturing is interested in distributing and so is Hollister.”

  Summer’s eyes widened. They were two of the largest consumer-goods companies in the country.

  “And with your advertising contacts,” the man continued, “this stuff could become a sensation.”

  Andrew pulled a hand over his mouth, clearly affected. “Thanks for the heads-up, man.”

  “No matter what you decide, that spokesperson of yours is pure gold, man. Whatever you do, don’t let her go.”

  Andrew turned his head to look at her. Summer blushed. But when he cut his gaze back to the road, she had the feeling he wasn’t pleased with his friend’s advice.

  “I’ll get back to you as soon as I sort things out,” Andrew said. He disconnected the call and was quiet. He turned on his signal to take the interstate exit for the road to Tiny.

  She chattered excitedly about what this would mean for Mane Squeeze, and for a horse-rescue center.

  Andrew didn’t respond. Instead, he seemed preoccupied with their surroundings, casting critical glances at shabby homes and muddy pastures that lined the rural road leading into Tiny. His irritation was palpable.

  “You don’t seem pleased,” she ventured.

  His jaw hardened. “I hadn’t planned to devote so much time to this project.”

  She squinted. “Then why even go to the trouble of setting up the commercial?”

  He averted his glance and realization dawned on her.

  “You thought it would flop,” she said. “You thought it would flop and that would be the end of it.”

  The tightening of his mouth confirmed her accusation.

  She scoffed. “Do you believe now, at least, that Mane Squeeze could be successful?”

  He sighed. “Not without a tremendous amount of work. And I have a career to get back to. I’ve already taken off too much time as it is.”

  “But this was your father’s dream.
”

  “But it’s not my dream,” he said tersely. “And my father didn’t even see fit to share his dream with me. I’m sorry, Summer, if I don’t care as much as you think I should.”

  Hurt stabbed her, because it seemed as if he was talking about more than just the hair conditioner. “But…you can’t just pull the plug now.”

  “We’ll fulfill the orders, of course. And if there’s interest in the marketplace, we could offer the formula to the highest bidder.”

  Disappointment choked her. “This is your father’s recipe,” she managed to get out. “The decision is yours. I was only helping him.”

  He glanced at her hair. “From what Charles said, you could probably make a pretty penny as the spokesperson if someone buys the formula.”

  Summer’s heart shriveled. He was distancing himself from the project, distancing himself from her.

  He turned down the road toward her house. What a difference twenty-four hours made. When he’d picked her up yesterday, she had been buoyant with optimism. Now as he pulled into her driveway, she turned her head. “I was wrong about you, Andrew.”

  He put the car into Park. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I assumed you still held the values we were both raised on—knowing what’s important in life, such as preserving the land and the good work of your father.”

  His jaw hardened.

  “Instead,” she continued, “you’re bearing a grudge against Barber because he didn’t share every aspect of his life with you. Did you ever stop to think you weren’t very sharing, either?”

  Instead of answering, he reached down to hit a button that popped the latch on the trunk. “I’ll get your suitcase.”

  “Don’t bother,” she said, opening the door. “I was doing fine before you came back to town, Andrew MacMillan, and I’ll be fine when you leave.”

  She climbed out of the car and closed the door, then walked around to pull her overnight bag from the trunk. She slammed the lid with more force than necessary and strode toward her home without looking back.