The C.E.O. & the Cookie Queen

by Victoria Chancellor

  As his hands settled on her waist and pulled her close, as their bodies touched and rubbed and melted together, she felt something she’d never experienced before. Grown-up passion. Real, honest desire. Her hands wound higher, across his hard shoulders and around his neck.

  But was this honest? Or was she deceiving herself? Was he deceiving her? She moaned as the questions rose, unbidden and unwelcome, throwing ice water on the passion she’d only just discovered. With a small cry of distress, she pushed against his chest.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice husky, his hands still on her waist.

  “Why are we doing this?” She whispered, not knowing exactly what she meant, only reacting to her doubts.

  “Because we’ve both wanted to for days. Because there’s no reason we shouldn’t.”

  “Because I said no to the business proposition?”

  “That’s right. I didn’t want you to think I was trying to seduce you to get your compliance, not that I believed I could do any such thing. Not to you. But I knew we couldn’t act on the attraction we both feel when the question of Huntington Foods was hanging between us.” He pressed close, making her feel his desire, hot and hard against her belly. “I don’t want anything between us.”

  “Oh, Greg, I…I can’t believe this is best. That this is real.”

  “Feels real to me,” he said, tilting down until their foreheads touched, resting for a moment until she pulled away.

  “I don’t rush into relationships,” she said shakily, turning and walking toward the side window. She ran her trembling fingers along the textured drapery fabric. “No, let me rephrase that. I haven’t rushed into a relationship in over ten years.”

  “So, how slowly do you usually ease into a relationship,” he asked, walking toward her, “just so I know what to expect? How patient do I need to be?” She felt panic grow as she anticipated his touch.

  But he didn’t press her. He stopped two feet away, appearing oh, so masculine and handsome, his blue-green eyes intense as he waited for her answer.

  She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. “I don’t know. I’ve never eased into a relationship. I know this sounds completely pitiful, but I don’t do relationships. Ever.”

  “Never?”

  “Never ever,” she answered, smiling slightly.

  A moment of something…maybe fear, appeared in his eyes. But why would he be afraid of what she said? Or maybe he was just appalled. He was accustomed to women who were modern and sophisticated, not old-fashioned and countrified. Not women who simply didn’t have affairs.

  “Oh,” he finally said, looking confused but no less desirable. At least to her unsophisticated eyes.

  She shrugged, then let her hands fall to her side. “But I can’t deny that I’m attracted to you. I was afraid for you to kiss me, but I wanted you to just the same.”

  “I know. I know all that, and I know that the attraction, the passion we feel is real. I want you, Carole, and I think we’d be darned good together.”

  “But for how long? For a day, three days? You’re not staying in Ranger Springs. You have no reason to stay, now that I’ve said no to your proposal.” She felt a rush of heat at her word choice. “I mean, your business plan.”

  He smiled. “I know what you meant, and you’re right. I’m not staying in Ranger Springs for long. But we still have unfinished business.”

  “What?”

  “I think you could be a darn good consultant to find someone to represent the company. I still need your help.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes.” He stepped closer. “Except, now, because you won’t become our spokesperson, you won’t think I’m trying to influence you by…well, through this attraction we feel. What you said earlier about what cookies mean, about what the company should stand for, was very true and insightful. Huntington could still use your help, only, this time it won’t be personal. We won’t ask you to do something you don’t want to do. So you see? Our business isn’t finished. Not yet.”

  She put a hand against his chest to keep him away, but his heat and well-toned muscles distracted her from her thoughts. “What…what are you going to do about this personal thing?”

  “I’m going to try my best to convince you that we should be together. Like you said, not because we’re both interested in forever, but because we can’t ignore this feeling. And I’m going to ask for your help in saving my company through finding someone perfect to represent us to the public.”

  “I…I suppose I could do that.”

  He smiled as his hand covered hers. “I’m counting on it.”

  She pulled away once more, skirting around the chair, heading toward the front door. “I meant the part about finding a representative.”

  He smiled, appearing male and predatory even though he stood still beside the window. “I meant all of it.”

  “I need time,” she said weakly, “about the other part.”

  He nodded. “I can give you four or five days. I have to get back to Chicago for some meetings, but I’ll return by the weekend. Monday at the latest.”

  “What about the place you’re renting? What about your steer?”

  “I’m sure Jennifer would love to spend more time with him before she leaves for camp.”

  “Are you saying you expect us to pet-sit your steer?”

  “I’m asking you to please take care of him for a few days.”

  Carole took a deep breath. “Are you sure you’re coming back?”

  “You can count on it.” He smiled, appearing very dangerous to her peace of mind. “As a matter of fact, you couldn’t keep me away now that you’ve given me a taste of what’s to come.”

  “We have a saying here. ‘Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.”’

  “I have a saying, too. A motto, really. Never Give Up.” He pushed away from the window and took a step toward her. “Never Give Up,” he repeated, his tone low and intimate.

  She fled for the front door before she gave him another taste…and maybe even the whole meal.

  CAROLE KNEW that Puff was to stay with them for at least three or four days—maybe more, if Greg was in Chicago longer than anticipated. He’d put feed and hay into her stock trailer when they’d moved the steer, as she’d stood back and watched his muscles flex beneath his T-shirt, lusting after him as she’d never desired another man.

  Now she stood on her front porch and waved as he drove away in his rental car. She had a reprieve, just as Jenny’s steer had gotten a stay of execution thanks to Greg’s generous bid at the arena. The action that had brought him to Ranger Springs had far-reaching consequences, from saving steers to inspiring lust in a previously sensible, circumspect mother of a ten-year-old.

  Okay, maybe she wasn’t over the hill, as she sometimes tried to pretend so she didn’t seem so out of touch with other young women her age. Many of them weren’t married, or, if they were, didn’t have children yet. She was the exception: a healthy twenty-eight-year-old whose only previous sexual experience had been with a nineteen-year-old boy who she’d insisted should marry her first. And the extent of that experience had lasted all of two months, over ten years ago.

  How in the world could she even consider making love with Greg Rafferty? Despite the attraction they felt, she would be so rusty in the bedroom that he’d probably laugh all the way back to Chicago. Or get that kind look in his eyes that said, “That’s okay. You tried.”

  She hugged her arms around herself and shuddered despite the ninetysomething-degree heat. She was insane to think about getting naked with a man she’d known for less than a week. Absolutely insane.

  But, oh, she wanted him. She really, really wanted to know what making love with Greg Rafferty would feel like.

  “Mom! Look at Puff! He remembers where I keep the grain bucket.” Jenny’s excited chatter from the direction of the barn brought Carole back to reality faster than a splash of cold water.

  “I’ll be right there, sweetie,” sh
e replied as she glanced once more at the driveway. Not even a faint cloud of dust remained from where Greg had driven off. Maybe she should remember that image when she considered what to do about her long-dormant love life. Did she really want indelible memories of a man who would vanish from her life like a wisp of smoke?

  GREG SETTLED into the leather seat of the modest but comfortable jet his family used for Huntington business. Roberta Huntington Rafferty had developed a fear of flying the major carriers when a good friend had died in a commercial airline crash, so the board of directors had approved the luxury. Greg often thanked his mother for her phobia because the company jet meant no delays due to shuffling aircraft or crews, no body searches at check-in, and no conforming to airline schedules.

  He used his cell phone to call the office. Within a few minutes he’d scheduled appointments with his father, mother and sister to discuss Carole’s outright refusal to become Huntington’s spokesperson. He also wanted to present his alternative plan: have her become so involved in finding a suitable person that she soon realized she really was the perfect woman for the job.

  This was a gamble, but he had few options. In the meantime, Huntington’s PR department was working fast and furious with the ad agency to develop new commercials that stressed the old, family business, their commitment to excellence and their goal of providing snacks enjoyed by children and parents alike. The board had briefly suggested he star in the commercials, putting a real face and name up there for people to focus on. However, Greg felt that because he was Brad’s brother—they even closely resembled each other—that solution wasn’t a good one.

  These were all stop-gap measures, anyway, designed to reinforce the previous goodwill of the public for Huntington. But they needed a major overhaul, one that focused on one person, one message, for the long haul. He still couldn’t believe how perfect Carole was for the position. She had everything: good looks, personality, small-town roots and credibility.

  “Five minutes to takeoff, Mr. Rafferty,” the pilot said over the intercom system. Greg fastened his seat belt and hoped for good weather between the Hill Country and the Windy City. His brother, Brad, had caused enough “bumpy rides” to last a lifetime.

  Greg still needed to know what exactly constituted an “unfortunate incident” in the eyes of her friends and neighbors. How personal was the problem? He knew whatever had happened wasn’t a legal issue. Now he needed to discover whether it was a moral one—one that the public might find objectionable.

  He wouldn’t think less of Carole if she hadn’t actually married Jennifer’s father. So perhaps she’d told people she’d been married because she didn’t want her daughter to have a stigma. After all these years she couldn’t change her story. Or maybe she had been married. Perhaps the young man who’d fathered Jennifer was now an embarrassment. He could be a dead-beat or worse. That documentary she’d mentioned could have been on an embarrassing topic, perhaps something illegal or immoral that he’d done.

  Certainly no one in town wanted to talk about him. Which made him believe Jennifer’s father, not Carole or her decision, might be the problem.

  He looked out the window as they started to taxi, the engines whining with restrained power. Outside, the hot Texas landscape rolled by like an old, silent movie, the film sepia in color. He’d like to see this place in spring or fall. Maybe, if he could establish a working relationship with Carole, he could come back periodically. Perhaps they could conduct a discreet affair. Something that wouldn’t harm anyone: Jennifer, Carole or her family.

  Greg found it increasingly difficult to separate Carole’s potential with Huntington from his personal feelings for her. Hell, even if she had some huge embarrassment in her past, he knew that wouldn’t stop him from wanting her. She seemed perfect for both roles—spokesperson and lover—if she wasn’t harboring some terrible secret.

  Except she didn’t want to be the spokesperson and she probably didn’t want to become his lover. She was a forever kind of woman. She didn’t have affairs. She didn’t jump into bed with men who were going to be in town temporarily. He belonged in Chicago, where the family business was headquartered. Where he’d trained and planned to take over that corner office for nearly as long as he could remember.

  No matter how appealing he found Carole and her daughter, how friendly the town, how cute the steer seemed—when he wasn’t being a royal pain in the…blisters—they weren’t worth giving up his dream. He was the C.E.O. of his family business, responsible for turning around the public perception of Huntington Foods.

  The jet lifted into the air, taking him far away from Ranger Springs. He knew, however, that Carole Jacks wouldn’t be far from his thoughts.

  Chapter Nine

  Carole stuffed an extra granola bar, a tissue and a tube of lip balm into Jenny’s bright-pink backpack. “Are you sure you have everything? We could go over it one more time.”

  “Mom, it’s all packed. I checked off the list, see?” She held up the sheet the camp provided, and sure enough, little checkmarks in glittery purple ink were placed beside each item. Jenny had insisted on packing herself this year.

  One more indication that her little girl was growing up. Before long she’d be wearing a bra and talking to boys on the telephone.

  Carole held back a shudder at the thought as they walked through the front door. Soon she wouldn’t have a little girl any longer. She’d always be Jenny’s mother, but little by little, she was needed less and less. Not that she defined herself by her role as “Mom,” but still, she loved being a mother. She would have loved to have given Jenny a little brother or sister…but not enough to get involved with a man she didn’t love.

  Which immediately made her think of Greg. She didn’t love him, of course, but she did lust after him. She’d thought about him day and night since he left on Wednesday. And she thought about them. If there could be a them, at least temporarily.

  She wasn’t sure if she had the nerve to go through with an affair. Just the word made her cringe. She didn’t do affairs. She’d never had casual sex. After ten years, she could barely remember having sex, period. And what she did remember wasn’t all that great. Kind of exciting, in a rushed, sweaty, messy way.

  Somehow she imagined Greg wouldn’t be nearly as quick, sweaty or messy as Johnny Ray. Not that she was expecting the kind of fireworks and musical crescendos as in movies and books. She figured the intensity of feeling increased with the dramatic license of the director or author.

  All she knew was that when Greg kissed her, she wanted to mold her body to his, feel his skin and taste him all over. That had never happened before.

  “Mom!”

  Carole shook herself out of her inappropriate thoughts. “What, sweetie?”

  “I asked if you would take Puff for a walk at least once a day. You know he likes to eat those weeds out at the end of the driveway.”

  Carole smiled, hoping she didn’t look flushed. “Of course. I’ll make sure he doesn’t forget how to lead.”

  “And when Mr. Rafferty gets back from Chicago, maybe he could come over and see Puff, too. I think Puff likes him.”

  Yeah, I like him, too. “I’m sure he’ll want to come by and see Puff. Remember, Mr. Rafferty does own him.”

  “I know, but I don’t think he wants him for real.”

  No, but I want Greg Rafferty, Carole acknowledged. “When the feed runs out and we have to cut back your allowance to buy more, you’ll wish Mr. Rafferty were still taking care of that big hay burner.”

  “Oh, Mom.”

  Carole heard a vehicle and looked out, expecting to see Megan’s mother. She was driving the girls to camp, which was north, near Glen Rose. Instead, she spotted a familiar luxury sedan. The windows were tinted, but she knew he was driving. Her heartbeat began to race and her palms grew damp.

  “Is that Mr. Rafferty?” Jenny asked.

  “I do believe…I think it is,” Carole replied, sounding a bit breathless. She hoped her curious daughter didn’t ask
why her normally sensible mother suddenly couldn’t speak like a responsible adult.

  “Neat! I’m glad he came back before I left.”

  Me, too! Carole nearly blurted out. She grasped her hands tightly, feeling the pressure. She had to make a decision soon about them. But for now, all she could think about was He was here. He was here!

  Greg pulled to a stop near the porch. A moment later the driver’s side door opened and he stepped out, smiling as he shielded his eyes against the noonday sun. The man needed sunglasses if he wasn’t going to wear a hat.

  Today he’d dressed in a body-hugging sea-green polo shirt that hugged his wide chest. He’d tucked it into light khaki chinos, and on his feet, instead of the blister-producing ropers, he wore casual deck shoes and no socks.

  He appeared very preppy, which was probably closer to the “real” Greg Rafferty than the catalog cowboy.

  “You came back,” she said unnecessarily, her voice again sounding a little breathless. A little young and insecure. “Early,” she added, deepening her tone. “You came back earlier than I expected.”

  “I didn’t want to miss seeing Jennifer before she went off to camp,” Greg said easily, walking to the front porch, ruffling her daughter’s hair as he bestowed a big grin.

  “Thank you,” Jenny replied, her tone happy as she spontaneously hugged Greg. “It was fun having Puff home again.”

  “I keep telling your mother than can be arranged permanently.”

  “Mom!”

  “Oh, look,” Carole exclaimed, pointing at the road where Megan’s mother’s van was pulling into the driveway. “Your ride is here.”

  “We’ll talk about this later, young lady,” Jenny mimicked. She sounded so silly, trying to be both funny and grown-up, that Carole had to laugh.

  “I’ll get your duffel. You can say goodbye to Mr. Rafferty.” Carole escaped to the cooler interior of the house where Jenny’s camping gear, clothes, towels and other assorted necessities lay packed on the entry floor. Her daughter’s life, neatly rolled and stuffed into one canvas bag.