Hot Alphas

by Lora Leigh

  She’d meant what she had said earlier—she refused to think of anything beyond tonight. They didn’t know each other and she wasn’t going to think about the fact that she never did this sort of thing. She’d had no-strings sex before in college when there was no pressure to pretend to be in love, and the joy of this night with Nate was sort of the same thing—they weren’t in love. They had no baggage, hardly knew each other, but they’d talked enough that she knew she liked him.

  It was all okay, as long as she didn’t let herself think too much. Thinking always seemed to get her in trouble. Then Nate was back on the bed and it was once again all about sensation, the pure physical pleasure of his beautiful body close to hers. He was long and strong and his skin was hot, as if a furnace burned beneath the surface. He settled between her legs, but he didn’t enter her. Not at first. He leaned close and kissed her, making love to her mouth with such finesse that she felt herself growing more aroused, knew her body was responding so powerfully to his kisses that she could come again before he even filled her.

  That wasn’t going to happen. She tilted her hips, reached for him and savored his hot, hard length as she positioned him against her as he thrust forward. She held her breath and Nate must have, too, because they both sighed when his balls brushed her butt and the thick length of his cock filled her.

  She opened her eyes and grinned at him. “You fit. I was worried.”

  “No you weren’t.” He thrust his hips and it felt so damned good she whimpered. “You just wanted to get your hands on me.” And he went deeper this time. “Didn’t you?”

  She laughed, a deep, throaty laugh of pure sensual pleasure. “Caught me. You’re right.” She’d never felt so wanton.

  Grinning broadly, Nate thrust again, and again, harder and faster, then slow and deep, until she caught his rhythm, matched it, and lifted to meet him. She thought for a moment that this felt so good, they should just keep doing it all night long.

  And then she remembered there was only one condom.

  Nate was only going to get one orgasm, but she was pretty impressed when he dragged two more out of her before he finally buried himself deep, his face twisting in an expression of absolute pleasure.

  He whispered a soft, almost reverent curse as he took her with him one last time.

  * * *

  Colonel Mac, as Macon Phillips preferred to be called, stared at the cards in his hand and tried to remember what game they played. It was usually seven-card stud, but he was only holding five cards, and that didn’t feel right.

  “C’mon, Mac. How many cards you want?”

  Benny did tend to get impatient. Mac stared at his hand. Two kings, two fours, and a seven, and if Benny was asking what he wanted, this had to be five-card draw. He pulled out the seven and put it on the table. Benny gave him a card and Mac made a noncommittal grunt. That third king looked real nice though, lined up with the other two.

  The game went on and he sort of drifted in and out. He was doing more of that lately, and it really pissed him off, but not as much as what he’d done to Cassie. He’d never forgive himself for getting them in such a mess. It was hard to accept, doing something so stupid. Hell, he’d made decisions that saved lives, and he’d hidden more information about people than most folks ever knew in a lifetime.

  He wondered if he should tell Cassie about the briefcase? It was well hidden, and she’d be okay as long as no one went looking for it, but what if she found it? What if she let that info get into the wrong hands?

  “Mac? You with us tonight?”

  He jerked his head up. Hector sounded a bit testy. Mac chuckled. “Just wool gatherin’, Hector.”

  “Leave the damned sheep alone, my dear colonel, and make a decision. You in or out?”

  Mac sighed and tossed in a handful of chips. They were just chips—no money was allowed to change hands here in the Mountain Vista Assisted Living Facility social hall, otherwise known as the Old Fart’s Casino by the resident old farts in question.

  Just worthless chips.

  Sort of how he felt, like one more worthless chip, but moving here had been his decision. Penance, he figured, except there would never be enough he could do to make it up to her. He hadn’t seen Cassie for a couple of days, but he remembered her saying she was moving out of the house. That just about killed him, to think that the house he’d built for her mother, the house he wanted his daughter to have, now belonged to some rich idiot from San Francisco. It was just wrong. And what if the new owner found that briefcase? Hell. He hadn’t even thought of that.

  Hal laid his cards down. Two pair, queens and jacks. He reached for the chips when Hector said, “Not so fast, Hal.”

  Hector laid out four tens and grinned at the other men at the table.

  At least in this respect, things were looking up. Mac fanned his full house out on the table. “Three kings and two fours, gentlemen. Read ’em and weep.” He reached for the pile of chips.

  Benny put up a hand. “Hold up a minute, Colonel.” He spread his cards on the table. A straight flush—nine, eight, seven, six, and a five of hearts.

  “Not bad, old man.”

  Mac and the others turned toward the new voice.

  “Hey, son! When did you get here?” Benny stood up and embraced the younger man walking toward the table.

  “Just now. I had to come through town and thought I’d stop in and see you. Still up to your old tricks, I see.”

  “Always.” Laughing, Benny turned toward the three men at the table. “Boys, this is my stepson, Jayson. Jay, this is Hal Munson, Hector Ruiz, and the newest member of our group, Mac Phillips.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Jay shook hands with Hal and Hector and then smiled at Mac, almost as if he knew him.

  Mac didn’t think he’d ever seen this kid before, but the way his memory had been acting up lately …

  “Colonel Macon Phillips, by any chance?” Jay’s grin stretched completely across his rather nondescript face and he held out his hand.

  Mac shook it. “Yes, it is. Do I know you?”

  “No, sir, but I’ve heard of you. That book about your tour of duty in Vietnam and your years in the Secret Service was practically required reading in my political history class.”

  Mac chuckled. This he remembered. “That book made it look a lot more glamorous than it was. What it was, was a long, long time ago.” Still, it was nice to know that somebody remembered. For some reason, those days were so clear to him. Much clearer than whatever happened a couple of days ago. Hell, even a couple of hours ago.

  “When you have time, I’d love to hear some of your stories. I bet you could put a whole new spin on current politics.”

  Mac merely smiled. That was the truth, though he wasn’t real comfortable talking about those days. Once sworn to secrecy, it was hard for a man to open up about stories that should never see the light of day.

  Of course there were a few, dammit, that should have been front and center, but they got buried when the wrong people turned up in the mess. Wrong people being a euphemism for politicians with more money than integrity. “I’ve always got time, boy.” Boy worked when you couldn’t remember a name. Jeff? Jim? No matter. They were all boys, now. How the hell did he get so old? “I’m just not sure if some of those stories should ever be told.”

  He remembered a briefcase. He’d been thinking about it earlier, for some reason. He’d remember later why it was so important. If it was.

  The kid was here to take Benny out to dinner. Hector decided to call it an early night, but Hal had a movie he was going to watch in his room. All The President’s Men. Mac had never been much of a fan of that movie. Not at all. Sometimes the truth hit too close to home.

  “Hey, Mac? You coming with me? I’ve got a bottle of Jim Beam.”

  “Sounds good, Hal. Real good.” Besides, Cassie wouldn’t be visiting tonight. Sure beat sitting alone in his room.

  He managed to stick it out for over an hour, but it was making him twitch, sitting here
drinking with Hal and trying to pretend interest in a movie that brought back too many things he’d rather forget. Crazy, really, how the stuff you wished you could remember was gone like the morning mist, and that crap from years ago filled up your brain and kept you awake nights.

  Almost like it was etched into your damned DNA. He wandered back out to the game room. There’d been a new National Geographic on the table earlier. If no one had snagged it, he’d take it to his room and see if he could get some sleep. It was still early—not even nine, yet. He thought about calling Cassie, but the girl worked so damned hard she might already be in bed. Ah … there it was. He grabbed the magazine off the table and turned to head back to his room.

  “Colonel Mac? You’re still up.”

  He spun around. Not good when a man could sneak up on you. He really needed to pay better attention. The fellow looked vaguely familiar, but …

  “I’m Jay. Benny’s son. We met earlier.”

  Mac nodded. He vaguely recalled meeting the kid. Here, or at the winery? “Where’s Benny?”

  “Dad went on to bed. Have you got some time? I’d really love to hear some of your stories. You had a truly amazing career, and I’m fascinated by that era. So much going on in this country during the late sixties, seventies, even into the eighties.”

  Mac nodded. “Pretty wild stuff, that’s for sure.” It was a nice change to talk with someone curious about those years. Everyone was so caught up in the present. Didn’t they realize that those who didn’t know their history were destined to repeat it? He said as much, and the kid nodded his head.

  “Edmund Burke,” he said. “An Irish statesman. He also said, ‘The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.’ That’s what I admire about you, Colonel. You did something, something that mattered. And I’d really love to hear all about it.”

  He stared at the kid for a minute. He had an open face, a likable face. It couldn’t hurt to tell him a few. And he was right. Mac had done a lot. More than most people would ever guess. He’d never talked about his work, never bragged about the things he’d done, but now? Now he was losing so many memories. Daily. But those old memories were clear. Too damned clear. That’s why they still kept him awake nights.

  He followed the kid over to a corner sitting area, sat down in one of the comfortable chairs, and tried to remember the exploits that had once kept his juices flowing. Those were good days. Mostly good days.

  Except when they’d all gone terribly wrong.

  * * *

  Someone must have used a jackhammer on her brain. That was the only explanation. Cassie opened her eyes to bright sunlight streaming through the bedroom window. Sunlight? Oh, hell. She glanced at the clock beside the bed, threw back the covers, and raced into the bathroom.

  It was after seven. Lupe probably wondered where in the hell she was. They were supposed to meet at the cave this morning and get things ready for bottling next week. Damn. She peered at herself in the mirror and cursed. Then she turned on the shower and got in before the hot water had time to reach this end of the cottage. Shivering, she soaped up, rinsed off, washed and conditioned her hair and ran one hand over her calf. Bristly but not horrible. It didn’t really matter under her jeans. Didn’t matter unless …

  “Oh, shit.” Nate. She leaned against the shower wall to keep from falling, and thunked her head so hard on the tile she saw stars. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t even looked to see if he was still in her bed.

  Rinsing off, Cassie got out of the shower, dried herself, and wrapped the towel around her body. Slowly, she opened the bathroom door a crack and glanced at the bed. He wasn’t there. She stepped partway out of the bathroom so she could get a better view of the room.

  No sign of Nate. His boots and clothes were gone. She breathed a huge sigh of relief. What an idiot she’d been! The man was her new vineyard manager, not a fuck buddy. They were going to have to work together, sleeping together was out of the question … well it should have been.

  She stalked across the room, grabbed a lacy thong out of the dresser drawer, and slipped it on. Turning, she saw the pair she’d had on last night still hanging from the bedpost, and wanted to crawl under the bed and just stay there. Crap. She couldn’t believe what they’d done.

  Except her body remembered. Oh, damn did it remember. Her nipples ruched into tight little buds and she felt an answering ripple of heat between her legs. She turned and saw a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She stopped, caught by the stranger staring back at her.

  Her breasts were marked with streaks of red from his five o’clock shadow. So was the tender skin of her inner thighs, and it looked as if he’d left a bite mark on the side of her throat, but it wasn’t the physical brands he’d left that caught and held her. It was the way she practically glowed. Hell, if she could see it, there was no way she’d be able to hide this from Lupe or anyone else she saw today.

  This was not going to happen again. It couldn’t happen again. She wasn’t about to let it.

  She finished dressing, pulling on the same jeans she’d worn yesterday, and when she couldn’t find the tank top she’d had on last night, she pulled a T-shirt out of the closet.

  One with a high enough neckline to cover the hickey. It was hot pink with a scrawled saying across the front: With wine all things are better. She slipped it on, and couldn’t help but think about last night, about sharing wine with Nate. About his hands and his lips and … “No, dammit!”

  Dressed now but still running late, she spun about and headed out to the kitchen. There was a pot of coffee already made. She poured herself a cup, and then she saw a note written on a paper napkin. Next to the note was a handful of daisies from the bush beside the front door. Sipping her coffee, she read what Nate had written.

  That has to be the best welcome I’ve ever had on any new job. I think I’m going to love the benefits. Hope to see you later this morning. Nate

  Benefits? That’s what he thought of her. She stared at his bold handwriting and tried to think of something truly awful about the man.

  She couldn’t. But damn it all, she was going to have to try, because this was not going to work.

  Still, she put the daisies in a glass of water and set them on the bar where they’d eaten last night. How the hell was she going to face him today?

  And how was she going to keep him out of her bed tonight?

  CHAPTER 3

  “It’s almost four, Lupe. Go home. Josie’s going to think I kidnapped you.”

  Lupe just laughed at her. “Sure thing, boss. Except she’s busy checking out the new vineyard manager. Said he’s hot.” He winked. “You met him yet?”

  She nodded but kept her eyes focused on the tablet in her hand, and the notes she’d taken during the day. “Yeah. Last night. Had to unlock the gate and let him in, show him where his apartment was.”

  “What’d you think? He okay? Does he know what he’s doin’?”

  Oh, Lordy … did he ever know. Her inner muscles clenched and released and clenched again from some sort of physical memory she was going to have to put a lid on. Quickly. She shrugged. “He’s got a good education and all the right degrees. Has been working down in Paso Robles for the past eight years, in the Finger Lakes area in upstate New York before that.”

  “Cornell?”

  Cassie shot him a grin. Lupe’d been studying every college in the country, trying to figure out the best viticulture program. “Yep. That on your list?”

  “Too far from family. Josefina said I’d have to tie her up and ship her in a big box because she’d not go willingly.” He laughed again, but his smile was so sweet it hit Cassie hard. To be loved as much as Lupe loved his smart and sassy wife? One could only hope.

  “It’ll probably be Davis.”

  “Good choice.” Cassie grabbed her backpack with the remnants of her bagel, all she’d had to eat today. “I’ll lock up. Say hi to Josie for me. See you in the morning.”

  Cassie took a last, quick
glance around the cave and the barrels they’d be bottling next week to make sure everything was ready. She still had to check on the labels. All the legal stuff for the ownership and name change hadn’t been completed yet, so this would be the final vintage of their award-winning old-vine Zinfandel bottled under the Tangled Vines label.

  The first time she’d bottled without her dad here to help. Damn.

  Intimate wasn’t a bad name, it just wasn’t the name her mom and dad had chosen. Tangled Vines, not just for the twisted grape vines, but for the tangled threads that had brought both of them here to Dry Creek Valley at the perfect time in their lives. Mac, leaving the Secret Service after years of work, most of it classified, and Melinda running from a long-term, abusive relationship. Him older, ready to settle, Melinda tired of trying to make a failed relationship work. They’d met and, in spite of an age difference of over two decades, had fallen deeply in love and been happy.

  Was it so much to ask for? Happiness? Sometimes it sure felt like it. Cassie shook the old thoughts aside. She needed to get home and clean up, and then she really had to get into town and see Dad, maybe take him out to dinner.

  One of these days, she was going to show up and he wouldn’t know her. She really didn’t have time to waste, and neither did he.

  She’d been so late this morning, she’d brought the truck, but now Cassie was glad she had it. She stopped at the front gate and got the mail, then pulled up in front of the cottage and climbed out of the truck, not easy with her arms filled with the mail she’d grabbed out at the box on the road, and her backpack with her tablet.

  “Hello, Cassie.”

  She spun around, grappling with mail, backpack, and keys. “Do you always have to sneak up on me like that?” Damn it all, she was so not ready to see Nate. Not now. Not tonight.