by Lexi C. Foss
“ ‘Your Majesty’ is not ridiculous,” I deadpanned. “And neither is ‘All-Knowing One’ or ‘Goddess Rachel.’ ”
“Goddess?” Will repeated, his eyes dancing over me. “I think I can work with that.” His low baritone was becoming one of my favorite sounds. Soothing, sexy, and seductive. Mmm. “But for now I’m calling you Cherry, ’cause, darlin’, you’re turnin’ redder by the minute. Let’s get you home.”
He tugged on my hand, prompting me to walk alongside him, before I could form a proper reply to his cherry comment. Good thing, too, because I had nothing witty to snap back. He’d rendered me speechless with that delicious voice of his sprouting words laced with sexual intent.
This is a battle I’m destined to lose. From the minute Will stepped into my life, I knew he’d be trouble. His commanding presence and overwhelming confidence brought out the fighter in me, but each gesture and word chipped away at my armor, leaving more and more of me exposed. Attraction sizzled between us, hot and heavy, and as he looked at me now, I saw my impending doom.
I wanted him more than I’d ever thought possible. Maybe it was a result of going so long without sex or the fact that he stood before me in nothing but a cowboy hat and jeans. Or maybe that kiss the other morning knocked a few screws loose. Whatever it was silenced my desire to fight. I liked him. Maybe even more than liked him. All the others who came before him didn’t compare, including Ryan. I’d been head over heels for that man, yet he never lit my blood on fire the way Will did. One look was all it took to melt my insides, and I was dying to know how that translated to the bedroom.
“Mmm, you wear that look well.” His breath was hot against my ear. I glanced sideways, surprised to see that he’d managed to guide me all the way to the truck without me realizing it.
“What look?” I asked, throat dry.
“The one that says you’re almost ready to join me in bed.”
Almost? My lacy panties disagreed with him. I was more than ready.
He planted an open-mouthed kiss against my neck and opened the door. “Yes, almost,” he confirmed. I must have questioned that out loud. He helped me into the truck, then stepped up to pull the buckle over my lap. His lips were a hairsbreadth from mine as he locked me in his stare. “But, Rachel,” he murmured, his bare chest radiating heat. “It’s going to happen, and soon.”
My thighs clenched. Again with the words in that damn sexy voice! I tried to form a snappy comeback, but my brain refused to process my request. It just kept repeating, Half-naked Will, over and over again. His smirk said he knew it too.
I still had nothing rational to say when he climbed in beside me.
His masculine scent washed over me as he reached into the back to grab his shirt. I inhaled deeply, luxuriating in it. A hint of soap underlay the woodsy appeal, turning me on more. Crap. Who knew a day in the field could smell so alluring? He pulled the fabric over his head, hiding that delicious abdomen from my view. It didn’t help kick-start my brain. His rippled torso would be forever burned into my memory. I wanted to trace each groove and ridge with my tongue.
Will started the car, and with it the music. Oh no. If he started singing again, I’d never recover. There were only so many seductive traits a woman could take, and he’d thrown enough at me to last a lifetime.
“Thank you for helping today,” he said as we started down the gravel drive through the field. It wasn’t part of the vineyard but appeared to be part of Joe’s property. Focusing on that recognition brought a nonsexual question to mind that I latched on to with the single thread of reason I had left in me.
“So how does this work? You own the vineyard, but Joe maintains it and grows . . .” I squinted at the rows of thick bushes. “I’m not sure what those are.”
“Blackberries,” Will replied. “They’re almost ready for picking, too, if you want to come back.”
I scrunched my nose and immediately regretted it. “I’ll need sunscreen.”
He chuckled. “And your hat.”
“Because that worked out well the first time,” I muttered. Before he could tease me about it again, I shifted back to my safe topic. “Okay, so do you own the blackberries too, then?”
“It’s complicated.” He turned onto the main road before continuing. “Mershano Vineyards started with the property I live on today. I used my last name to apply for the loans I needed while also taking a little out of my family trust for the down payment, then spent three years cultivating the land and hiring a small team. I wanted to master the field work for several reasons, but mainly so I could earn the respect of some of the local winery owners.”
“Like Joe,” I inferred.
“Yes, exactly. It helped me develop a trusting approach rather than a smarmy salesman one. But before all that, I developed a business strategy. I knew my vineyard had promise, had seen it in its full glory as a kid, and wanted to return that potential to the land. It also served as a tribute to my mother since it was her favorite vineyard.” His grin was sad while he spoke, tugging at my heartstrings.
“Anyway, I worked hard to restore the fields and the winery, taking out loans to replace rusty equipment, barrels, and other crappy machinery, and made two types of red wines. Meanwhile, the business-savvy part of me worked through the permits and legalities and started soliciting contracts for sale. It probably won’t surprise you, but Mershano Suites was my first customer. Evan offered me an advance to help with wine production, but my fields only sustained a certain percentage of his needs.”
I could see where this was going. “So you started soliciting partners.”
“Exactly.” He relaxed one forearm on the console while he spoke, his fingers drumming against the shifter. Even after all that work outside, he still had energy keyed up inside of him. Did the man ever rest?
“So,” he continued, “I approached some local vineyards first, specifically the ones I knew were struggling, and offered various forms of partnerships. Some of them agreed to sell land to me outright, while others, like Joe, offered to sell their product under my brand for a fee.”
“Like a franchise,” I translated.
“Yep. About sixty percent of Mershano Vineyards is composed of franchise properties that sell under my name but are not owned by my corporation. Contractual agreements allow me to stop by and check in as needed to ensure the highest quality product, which is what my team of quality analysts handle. But I still like to help some of the locals when they need it.”
“That explains all the types of wine,” I murmured, thinking about the long list from his company website.
“Exactly. The key factors are variety and quality. I guarantee both, but there is a limit on each style, which also allows me to control price. It’s a simple game of economics.”
“Simple,” I repeated. “Right.”
His dimple peeked at me. “Well, again, it was all part of my business plan. And much to the bank’s chagrin, I managed to pay back my loans in my first seven years, and now I put most of my profit into the family trust. And I was able to pay back Evan’s ridiculous advance.” The way he said it indicated there was a story there, but he didn’t elaborate. I would have dug into it, but something else he mentioned intrigued me more.
“You didn’t use family money to buy your first vineyard?” I had assumed more than once that he did. It wasn’t like the Mershano family empire was short on cash. His cousin was estimated to be worth several billion, hence his well-earned nickname as “The Prince of New Orleans.”
“I used some of it for a down payment, but mostly I just capitalized on my name. The banks knew I was good for the money, especially with the family trust sitting behind me, but I wanted to create my own empire. I had already used enough of my parents’ money for college and business school, and I wanted Mershano Vineyards to be a product of my own work. Which it is to an extent, but my familial ties also helped. Most banks would never give a loan in that sum to an average person, but I accomplished what I could, given the situation.”<
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I studied him in fascination. Northwestern had introduced me to all manner of wealthy men and women. Most of them enrolled because their parents required it. Ryan belonged to that crowd. His father’s career as a long-term Illinois senator granted him all kinds of political connections and guaranteed his admittance into the legal program of his choice. He never once had to fight for anything in his life, nor did he have the desire to. Most of his rich trust fund buddies were exactly the same, greedily accepting everything from their silver platters and scoffing at those who had to work for it. Like me.
Meanwhile, Will admitted that his inheritance helped, but he also strived to disassociate from it. He broke all the stereotypes I’d crafted in my mind that pertained to rich and powerful men. I worked with several of them, all of whom maintained the same arrogant air as Ryan and looked at me in a way that said, I could make you kneel at my feet with the crook of my finger. Will possessed a similar confidence, except his left me feeling hot instead of cold. When he gave me that look, the one that said he could have me with a single flick of the wrist, I wanted to get down on my knees and beg for it.
I shook the image from my head. Ryan affected me like that once upon a time, perhaps not to the same extreme, and he’d left me crawling for his attention. He owned me so completely, so wholly, that I lost sight of myself. It was no wonder—
I jumped back to the present as Will’s palm slid to my thigh.
“I’ve told you my life story. Now it’s your turn,” he said, voice soft and soothing. With a deep tenor like that, it was no wonder the man could sing.
“Uh”—I paused to clear my throat—“my history isn’t nearly as exciting.” An understatement.
The hand on my thigh gave a gentle squeeze. “Enlighten me anyway.”
It took all my effort not to squirm as his thumb drew hypnotic circles above my knee. All my senses seemed to focus on that single point, waiting for him to do more. I cleared my throat and tried to think.
“Um, well, I grew up in Indiana with Sarah, but I always craved the city life. So I set my sights on Northwestern because it was close enough to home that it kept my parents happy and also offered the programs I wanted. Sarah applied, too, not really because of me but because she wanted out of Indiana as well, and when we were both accepted, our families agreed to let us go together.” I paused to see if he was still listening.
“And then?” he prompted, grinning.
“Well, and then I took out some insane loans and went to Northwestern with Sarah. We lived together for undergrad in the dorms and eventually in a cheap apartment. I double-majored in business and French, while—”
“Why French?” He glanced briefly at me before refocusing on the road. “Sorry for interrupting, but I’ve wondered about that since reviewing your resume.”
I bit my cheek. Leave it to Will to care about a detail few others ever mentioned.
“Um, I thought French might be useful if law school didn’t work out, for teaching or something. But obviously, law school did happen. I went to Northwestern, which you already know, and I completed a dual concentration in business enterprise and international law. Baker Brown offered me a job right out of school, pending my passing the bar, which I did, and I’m still working there today.”
He didn’t look at all satisfied with my story, which I expected. I warned him it was boring for a reason. “You lived with Sarah during undergrad, but what about during law school?”
I stiffened. “Uh . . .” Fuck. I couldn’t . . . wouldn’t . . . go down that rabbit hole. “We didn’t live together after our senior year.” Because Ryan wanted to live with me. I’d been so excited and naive. I thought it was a gesture of love. But it was never about that between us. Ownership was a better term. I cleared my throat. “So yeah, that’s me. Student loans out the wazoo, but I rent a nice apartment, enjoy my job, and yep.”
“I see.” His thumb had stopped moving while I spoke, something I noticed with a hint of regret. I rather liked that soothing circle he was drawing against my thigh. “I know Sarah has a twin sister, but what about you? Any siblings?”
This was a topic I could discuss comfortably. “I have an older brother, Caleb. He went into the military at eighteen and disappeared for a while, and now he does something for the government in an office somewhere. He doesn’t talk a lot about it, and I only see him around the holidays.”
“So you’re not close?”
I snorted. “Not at all. I’m actually closer to his best friend.” I bit my lip to keep from saying more. Talking about Mark could lead us to a conversation I preferred to avoid. Like why I considered him one of my closest friends despite rarely seeing or talking to him, or about his involvement in my escape from Ryan.
Will’s property crept up in front of us as he navigated down the familiar drive. I’d only done this once, but it was memorable enough for me to recognize it. My thigh shivered as his palm moved from my leg to the steering wheel. I’d gotten comfortable with his hand there, perhaps too comfortable.
“Not to change the subject, but I hope you like cheeseburgers,” he said as we started up the hill toward his home. “Because I’m craving them.”
I laughed. “After all that work today? Yeah, I think I can handle a burger night.”
“Good. ’Cause that’s what we’re having.” He parked the truck by the front door and hopped out. I unbuckled my seat belt just as he greeted me on the passenger side. “My lady.” His eyebrows danced as he held out a hand.
I shook my head even as I accepted his help to the ground. “You do realize I’m capable of getting in and out of this massive truck by myself, right?”
He tugged me closer, invading my personal space and causing my breath to hitch. “Oh, I’m very aware. But the gentleman in me insists.”
“Gentleman,” I repeated, my voice softer than I anticipated. “Is that what you’re being?”
Pure, unadulterated wickedness stared down at me. “For now, yes.” His lips brushed mine in a chaste kiss that didn’t match his darkening expression. “Don’t let it fool you, darlin’. My proclivities in the bedroom are anything but gentlemanly.” The ominous words were a breath against my jaw, followed by a light nibble that left me shaking with a need that felt as forbidden as it did hot. He pulled back with a wink. “Let’s eat.”
15
This Ends Now
I cringed at my red reflection. The flames dancing across my skin only seemed to get hotter during dinner, a result of both Will’s charm and my sunburn. I’d tried to cool down with a shower after we finished eating, but the water stung in all the wrong places.
After thirty excruciating minutes, I was clean and dressed in my usual yoga pants, but my nightshirt sat on the counter. I couldn’t bear the thought of covering my shoulders. Sleeping naked would be my preference in these conditions, but that seemed like trouble with Will so close.
I plucked a pale pink camisole from my suitcase. It was thin and meant to be worn underneath a blouse, but it would do. I pulled the light fabric over my head and didn’t bother with a bra, then gently combed my hair. Normally, I would dry it, but the cool strands felt heavenly against my burn.
A chirp sounded from my purse. Voicemail. I hadn’t checked my phone all day thanks to Will’s unexpected field trip. Work had probably called for an update since we were scheduled to leave for France tomorrow night. Thankfully, everything was ready—or at least, we were as prepared as we could be going into the meetings. More research and discussion would be needed afterward. Janet had considered joining us, but after observing me last week during our final debriefings, she said her assistance wasn’t needed. It’d been the biggest compliment of my career so far.
Hopefully, she hadn’t called to say she’d changed her mind.
No.
It was worse.
Much, much worse.
My blood went from hot to cold as I scrolled over the abundance of messages and missed calls littering my screen. Two words jumped out at me over and over
again.
France.
Bitch.
“Oh my God,” I breathed.
Ryan had my airline itinerary.
And he was furious.
There was something about a wedding announcement and engagement pictures. All things I never agreed to and never would.
The messages blurred as I continued to run through them. Eighty-seven missed calls. All him. Nothing from work. They wouldn’t have been able to get through with his incessant redialing. When the phone started to ring in my hand, my eyes narrowed. So, what—now he could tell when I was touching the damn mobile? My limbs shook with a mix of fear and fury as his ringtone sang through the room.
I couldn’t believe this was happening again. He’d been like this right after the breakup. Constantly calling, dropping by, and checking up on me at all hours of the night. They were some of the most terrifying months of my life, but eventually he backed off. Not entirely, and never for long periods, but he gave me space. He started dating other women, something he enjoyed flaunting in my face. I only cared because I feared for them, but he was never with the women long enough to own them. Not in the way he owned me.
The ringing stopped.
I waited.
And it began again.
He’d texted a few times throughout the week and called once, but I’d never replied. Mostly because he had messaged me when I was with Will but also because I didn’t feel that immediate pull to respond.
Something about being here had emboldened me enough to ignore Ryan. That had to be a first. I hadn’t even really thought about him all week. Will consumed my every moment, and I’d actually felt relaxed. Happy, even.
Seeing Ryan’s name flash on my screen was a shock to my system, but it lacked the usual punch. Instead, something else flared inside of me. A long-buried annoyance that I could no longer contain.
His ringtone started singing for the third time.
A scream tightened my throat, but my lips refused to let it loose.