A Taste of Desire

by Chloe Blake

  Heart pounding, she opened her mouth in invitation. Her hand moved from his nape to his cheek, and she rubbed the stubble at his jaw, loving how rough it was over his smooth skin. He jerked, and she was afraid he’d pull away. Instead, he captured her tongue in a sensual duel and pulled her closer. His hand slid down her back and plundered her mouth, as if he needed her taste to survive.

  All around them, the ocean lapped at the sand and the sea blended into the sky, but nothing else mattered except the pulsing of her body and the relentless beating of their hearts. The night before hadn’t prepared her for this raw display of sexual need. He was kissing her, touching her. The steel she felt at her stomach was for her, and it was sizable.

  The last thought had her insides melting. She wondered what it would take to break down every barrier he’d ever built.

  His grip on her body loosened, and before he could push her away, she eased out of his grip and stepped back. Chests heaving, they stared at each other. Her head spun, and by the blurred look in Destin’s eyes, he was also very affected by what had just happened.

  What had just happened?

  “I’m sorry,” he breathed in the wind.

  He’d said that last night, too. “Sorry for what? Kissing me or pulling away?”

  “Maybe both,” he said, half grinning. “You...” He searched for a word. “Affect me. But things are complicated. You aren’t here for long, and I’m not looking for anything real.”

  “I’m not offering you anything real. But if you wanted to spend some time together while I was here, I’d spend it with you.”

  He looked at her a long time, his gaze shifting out to the sea. “It’s time to go,” he said. He waited for her to pass by before falling in step behind her.

  * * *

  As the SUV barreled through the city, Destin’s face and body language were closed, making Nicole feel stupid for offering to “spend time” with him. She might as well have just whipped her skirt over her head.

  Truth be told, she ached to touch him. She slid her gaze to her stone-faced driver, not caring if he noticed her staring. Damn, he was handsome.

  But he’d rejected her. Again. And as if the last twenty-four hours hadn’t been complicated enough, he probably thought she was completely unprofessional.

  He didn’t trust her, which was why he was tentative about sharing the rift between him and his father. Why couldn’t he see that she was there to help?

  The puzzle pieces of the man next to her were floating in her head when he slowed and stopped in front of her hotel. She was about to say goodbye when he climbed out, as well, and handed the keys to a valet. Oh, right, they were in her rental. She made sure she had her phone and bag, then climbed out.

  The SUV pulled away, and they both stood there on the street, staring at each other. Magnus came to her legs and sat.

  “Here you are,” Destin said, glancing up at the hotel. “In plenty of time for the casino guy.” She heard the sneer in his voice.

  “Will you and Magnus be there, scowling at my buyers?”

  A smile tugged at his lips. “Unfortunately, no. We have other plans. How are you getting there? I don’t want you driving with that ankle.”

  His possessive tone wasn’t lost on Nicole, and it gave her a boost of hope that he wasn’t just dumping her on the street before ghosting.

  “They will be meeting me here, and we’ll take their limo up.”

  He gave a satisfied nod and let his gaze linger on her face before falling to the ground.

  “Am I going to see you again?”

  After a deep inhale, he sighed. “I don’t know.” She knew what that meant. It was a cop-out. He wasn’t going to make an effort. Well, then, neither was she.

  “Do you want to know how it goes today?” They’d have to exchange numbers for that. And if one of them sent a dirty text later by accident, so be it.

  “I won’t be around.”

  Right, no texts. She might never see him again, and the thought made her hesitate. She wanted to say something and tried to meet his gaze, but he was scanning the area. “Fine. Thank you for...an adventure. Take care.” Irritated, she turned and gingerly walked into the lobby, trying not to feel like she’d just been dumped. Their kiss kept flashing in her mind. That son of a bitch!

  Air-conditioning cooled her skin, and she caught a glimpse of herself in the hanging mirror. It looked like she’d died, was resurrected, then turned into a zombie. She recognized Anton’s tall frame behind the counter, and his light eyes went wide with relief when she appeared. He began to shout orders she couldn’t decipher, and the staff immediately presented her with a wheelchair.

  Anton helped her sit. “We’re very happy that you are well, Miss Parks.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And you, Destin. Are you all right?”

  Nicole whipped around. Destin had followed her? He didn’t meet her gaze. Magnus came over to inspect the wheelchair, pushing his nose into her hand.

  “I’m fine, Anton,” he said with a firm handshake. “Call the doctor for her. On my tab.”

  “At once. And for you?”

  Destin shook his head. “I just wanted to make sure she was being taken care of. On second thought, you can call me a car.”

  “Consider it done. Anything else?”

  Destin’s gaze slid to hers, his blue gaze intense.

  Her heart sped up. Whether they liked it or not, there was something between them, and by the look in his eye, he knew it too.

  “No. Nothing else.”

  Her heart sank as she was wheeled away into the elevator.

  His brow furrowed and he lowered his gaze, then the doors closed.

  Chapter 12

  Nicole saw the stretch limousine pull up to the front of the hotel and hurried through the lobby doors to the sidewalk. She didn’t feel at her best, but something else was nagging at her. She couldn’t shake Destin’s talk of bringing in businesses that wouldn’t benefit the town, and as she stared at the shiny black luxury vehicle, she was afraid that he might be right.

  Clay “Junior” Winchester pulled his six-foot-five, three-hundred-and-fifty-pound frame ungracefully from his stretch limo, shifted the white Stetson on his head and showed a big Texas smile.

  “Well, hey there, little lady. Good to see ya again.”

  Nicole carefully walked forward in black jeans, a light blazer and Converse sneakers. The painkillers and the compression sock the doctor had prescribed were working wonders. Clay was in his jeans and signature cowboy boots, making Nicole feel less underdressed. She shook his hand, ignoring the little lady comment. Clay was a good ole boy from Dallas, where they called everyone “little.”

  “How was your flight, Clay?” While Nicole’s morning had been filled with rescheduling all of her other appointments due to last night’s airport closure, Clay had fired up the private jet and voilà.

  “Just fine. Slept the whole way. Right here is my CFO and my real estate consultant, Chuck and Diane,” he said, gesturing to the fully suited man and woman who followed him out of the car with laptops and briefcases.

  Nicole extended her hand to both, then addressed all three. “Welcome to Porto Alegre. I know we planned to go straight to the property, but if you need to eat or rest, there is time.”

  “Hell, no.” Clay slapped his thigh. “Let’s see this place.”

  Twenty minutes of easy driving later, they were all standing in front of Dechamps.

  “Don’t look like much.” Clay frowned, his hat brushing low-hanging branches. “I thought it was gonna be bigger.”

  “We’re outside the property gate, Clay. But don’t worry, it’s big. I know you Texans like big.”

  “You’re damn right.”

  “Well, how about you follow me, and we’ll see if I delivered.” Nicole’s gaze dropped to Diane’s high heel
s. “You need to be extra careful. I lost my Jimmy Choos in there.”

  “Oh, my Lord,” Diane said, horrified, and rightly so—she was wearing classic black Christian Louboutins.

  Clay’s phone went off. Instead of answering it, he handed it to Chuck. “I don’t want to talk to my daddy right now.” Chuck forwarded the call to voice mail.

  A rustling in the trees had them all whipping their heads around.

  “What was that?” Clay asked, seeming more thrilled than scared.

  No one moved or answered until the sound was gone.

  “Are there animals in there?” Diane asked, her voice cracking.

  “Nonsense. It’s just some frogs and such. Right, Nicole?” Clay asked.

  “Right, yeah.” She shrugged and nodded. “Or a monkey.” Three pairs of eyes stared at her. “But they keep to themselves.”

  “I wanna see a monkey! Can you imagine me coming home with a monkey?” Clay scanned the trees.

  “I doubt you could get it past airport security,” Nicole said, noticing Chuck’s eye roll.

  “Chuck, find out what I have to do to get a monkey around here.” Chuck nodded with practiced patience.

  And this is what Nicole loved and hated about Clay. As the baby of the Winchester family—who had owned the Winchester arms company for fifteen generations—no one had ever said no to him. Ever. The only defeat he’d experienced was when he had been kicked out of South Africa when the government found out he was trying to make a real-life Jurassic Park. Genetic research and everything. Just like the movie.

  Now casinos were his hobby, and much easier to get approved.

  “Maybe I should stay in the car,” Diane said with a grimace.

  “Woman, I told you to wear your boots, but you didn’t listen. Chuck has his boots on.”

  Nicole gave Diane a sympathetic tip of her head. “You’ll be okay. There’s a cleared-out path through there.” Nicole pointed into the foliage. They frowned. “It’s just around this gate.” She pushed at a few oversized plants, showing them the path.

  “This trail needs a lawnmower,” Clay said behind her.

  “You can probably widen it with a machete,” Nicole stated.

  “A machete? Chuck! Find me a machete when we get back to the hotel. I don’t feel right without my gun.”

  It was Nicole’s turn to roll her eyes.

  They made a single file through the greenery and safely made it out into the clearing. The sun couldn’t have given the property a better day to show itself off. Nicole almost expected to see Destin—wished, was more like it—but there was no sign of him.

  Clay stomped through the rubble of Destin’s crumbled home. “Oh, yeah. I like this. Look at that burnt-down house. That could be a real haunted house, ya know, for Halloween. Just like our driver said.” Clay turned to Chuck. “Maybe we should keep it.”

  “Back up,” Nicole interrupted. “Your driver said what?”

  “He said this place was haunted by the souls of all the workers who died here.” Clay’s voice trailed off in a dramatic whisper.

  “Seriously?” Nicole frowned.

  “Yep, he said no one in town goes up here. But that will change once I build the best casino in the country.”

  No one had told her anything about haunted souls. “Well, it wasn’t a ton of workers who died here. It was the owner’s wife.” Saying it made Nicole’s heart ache.

  Clay frowned. “That’s terrible. Chuck, should we keep the house for Halloween?”

  Chuck’s sigh was audible. “Your building plans were not approved for a Halloween house.”

  “Hmm, I guess it will have to go. What’s this doorway over here?”

  Nicole’s throat tightened when Clay started toward the wine cellar. Just as she was about to follow, three dark-skinned men in khaki jumpsuits came out of the forest.

  One of the men carried a metal box, and they all had strange tools hanging from their belts. Nicole thought they looked like ghostbusters. The one with glasses stepped forward. His hand went up, and he addressed the group in Portuguese, then in English. “Stop. Go no further.”

  “Olá,” Nicole said with a quick wave. “I’m a real estate broker here on behalf of the Dechamps family. They are selling this land and—”

  “No, that’s not possible,” the man said, adjusting his glasses, which looked too big for his face. “I am Dr. Lima, and these are my associates. We are government land inspectors.” He pointed to a patch on his right shoulder that looked like an official badge of some sort. “And we are deeming this place uninhabitable.”

  “Uninha-what?” Clay shouted.

  Nicole straightened. “As a representative of the Dechamps family, I have the proper permits to sell this land, which was deemed habitable and saleable by their private inspectors several weeks ago.” Nicole pulled out the notarized and stamped paperwork she carried along with her ID and held it up. “And since when does the government have the authority to inspect land when it’s privately owned?”

  “When the lives of the people and its surrounding habitat are endangered. Our research shows that this mountain is due for an earthquake.” One of the associates held up the box, which was a digital seismograph. The numbers counted down wildly. “In five days.”

  Nicole stared at the counter, then her gaze slid to the doctor, who was sweating around the temples. She didn’t have the paperwork on her, but the detailed inspection information she had read never mentioned any threats of natural disasters—which made sense, since there were no volcanoes or fault lines in the area. She stepped up and addressed the leader.

  “That’s very strange, Dr. Lima, because, as I’m sure you know, this area has never experienced an earthquake. All of the seismic activity that Brazil encounters is on the Pacific side of the country, along the border of Peru, to be exact, approximately thirty-one hundred miles away.” The doctor blinked several times. Nicole continued. “May I see some identification?”

  Suddenly the counter went wild, and the three inspectors pulled a strange tool from their belt and began walking in circles where they stood.

  “What the hell is going on? Look, I’m Clay Winchester, Junior, of the Dallas Winchesters. And—”

  “Did you feel that?” the associate with the box whispered.

  “What?” Clay asked.

  “A tremor.”

  Diane mumbled nervously to Chuck. Nicole didn’t feel anything. She pulled out her phone and tapped on her MyShake app, the earthquake detector app that she and her colleagues used to conduct superficial inspections. Other than the steps of the “inspectors” in front of her, the app detected nothing.

  She turned to Clay. “There’s no tremor here.”

  “What is that?” Clay asked.

  She held up her phone so the inspectors could see the face. “Earthquake detector. No tremors.”

  “Holy hell!” Clay whipped around. “Chuck!”

  Chuck had Clay’s phone in his hand. “Already on it.”

  “That can’t be accurate,” said Dr. Lima. “And we have more work to do, so I suggest you leave.”

  “We aren’t leaving.” Nicole hadn’t worked in Brazil in the past, but she knew that seizing privately owned land for no reason was against the law. These men were trespassing.

  Dr. Lima straightened. “Miss Parks, I will call the authorities if I have to.”

  Nicole went silent, her gaze landing on the closed door of the wine cellar.

  Clay stepped up. “Look, that’s not necessary. Nicole, I’ve seen enough. This place is as big as three football fields, from my expert estimations. And a good jump away from the town.” He touched the brim of his hat with a finger. “That’s just what we’re lookin’ for. But if these guys are right, I don’t think we can move forward.”

  Nicole gave Clay a solemn nod, her thoughts pinging in all different di
rections.

  Clay led the way back toward the gates. Nicole was stepping onto the exit path when the realization hit. She had never given the “inspectors” her last name. “I’ll be right there,” she called to the group in front of her before turning back toward the clearing.

  “Hello?” she called into the foliage. She was sure that was where they’d gone. She stepped high over the bushes and lumbered forward, ducking under trees and thick leaves. “Excuse me!” she called again. Where could they have gone?

  Stomping forward, Nicole realized the foliage had thinned, and suddenly she was staring at rows of yellow-tipped plants. Then she saw a thick vine nestled inside the yellow blossoms, gnarled, dark and strapped to a short wooden pole—an older vine, she suspected. The base of the vine was covered in gravel, for drainage, probably, especially in the wet climate. The green leaves were healthy and protected the ripening grapes that hung under them. A long white tarp lay discarded a few feet away.

  She scanned for more vines and found them scattered across the small field, each with a yellow flowered companion, or what she now suspected was mustard—a natural crop cover that helped control viruses in the soil. The raw edges of the small field told her that machines had no part in this. Had Destin handpicked vines from the wreckage and replanted them here?

  “Nicole?” She heard the echo of her name on the wind. Her heart jumped, hoping to see Destin. Instead, Clay’s hat and pudgy face appeared through the trees.

  “I’m coming!” she yelled back, afraid he’d find her, feeling suddenly protective of the hidden crop.

  * * *

  He shouldn’t have done that, Destin thought, watching with binoculars from the edge of the property as Nicole and the casino owners took their leave. They’d rushed the plan when Anton had given him a heads-up about her showing that day, but Rui, or should he say, Dr. Lima, had pulled it off. The big one with the hat looked thoroughly confused. And by the look on Nicole’s face, angry was an understatement.