A Taste of Desire

by Chloe Blake

  “This is fucking epic!” Jared Seagram, the twenty-five-year-old CEO of a two-hundred-million-dollar data storage start-up called WhoDat, flipped the bill of his baseball cap up so he could get closer to the window. He and his even younger CFO, who was wearing a T-shirt that said “Baller,” high-fived and snapped a selfie.

  Millennials. “We should be coming up on Dechamps!” Nicole shouted, hoping they understood her over their headgear.

  Leaning forward, she looked out the window and watched as they flew over a long white tarp. More forest appeared underneath them, then a larger patch of several long white tarps. They blew past the tarps and hit more trees. Nicole looked around for land markers but didn’t recognize anything.

  She pulled out her GPS and saw the tag for Dechamps behind them.

  “We passed it. Turn around!” she shouted to the pilot. With a nod, he pulled an air U-turn, and they flew back toward the marker. Her phone beeped when they hit the white tarp again.

  Confused, she looked again, her mind unable to process what was flying by right under her.

  All of Dechamps had been covered with a tent.

  She looked at her clients and gave a tentative smile, still trying to process how the land could have been concealed in less than a few hours. And why?

  She wanted to curse out loud. She wanted to jump out of that chopper and tear that tarp apart.

  She wanted to find Destin. He must have found out. But how?

  Mind racing with what to say, she turned to her young buyers. “It looks like the place has been covered. We, uh...can’t see anything.”

  Both lost their smiles.

  Nicole asked the pilot to turn around and return them to the helipad. After an embarrassing explanation, Nicole avoided eye contact with the “ballers,” looking out over the cliff instead. They passed a group of homes, and Nicole gasped when she recognized Destin’s château. As they got closer, she could see the back patio.

  And there he was, sitting barefoot in the shade, in a blue T-shirt and sunglasses. A bottle of wine was chilling in a silver bucket next to him. He smiled and raised his glass to the helicopter.

  She wanted him. She hated him...

  But mostly she hated him.

  Chapter 15

  Hotel Mystique was the hottest, most elegant and most extravagant hotel in the city, and it had been built for the sole purpose of attracting the elite. No wonder Clay wanted to have drinks there. She’d gotten his call shortly after her last appointment, inviting both her and Elliot out for a friendly cocktail. She wasn’t in the mood, but you never said no to a buyer who had made an offer, and since Elliot couldn’t make it, she had no choice.

  Designed by an apprentice of Frank Lloyd Wright’s, the exterior of the hotel was in the shape of a cruise ship and fashioned with circular windows, underwater propellers that slowly spun and hanging life rafts that could be reserved for play.

  Every night the glitterati handed their Range Rovers and Mercedes Benzes off to young valets and followed the red carpet inside to the rooftop, which looked like a real ship’s deck. Tall masts, a giant ship’s wheel and large silver sails flew in the breeze, all under a starry night sky.

  Nicole slid through the beautiful crowd, watching the partiers dance in their spots as a pop song played in the background. To her left, the bar itself acted as a beacon in the dark, glowing white, then purple, then red. The drinks on the bar looked ethereal.

  If she hadn’t known better, she could’ve tricked herself into thinking she was back in New York. No spiders, no mud roads, no Destin—and he had been the reason for what had probably been the worst day in her career.

  She’d been humiliated at her last two appointments. Her phone calls and emails of apology to both had gone unanswered. And, of course, there was Gus, who sounded concerned that things were getting out of hand. Making the sale was one thing, keeping the company’s reputation as the best was another. People in hospitals were not a good advertisement.

  After she’d hung up with her boss, she’d set out to give Destin a curse-filled piece of her mind, only to quickly realize she didn’t have his phone number, or email, or a horse that could jump cows and bust through his château door. He’d won, just like he’d said he would.

  To lift her spirits, she’d put extra glam into her appearance that night. She was going to enjoy herself, Destin Dechamps be damned. Her off-the-shoulder stretch lace dress hugged her body and was opaque only across the chest and the skirt. She wore gold eyeshadow, red lipstick, her hair in a bun and shimmer lotion on her legs. Ignoring her better judgment, she’d gone with heels and planned to sit most of the time.

  Cocktail waitresses carried bottles on silver trays, and Nicole followed one until she spotted Clay’s white Stetson. He stood in his cowboy boots talking to a beautiful Brazilian woman. Next to him, Chuck and Diane sipped drinks on a velvet couch.

  “Nicole! Get over here.” Clay turned with a drink in his hand and squished her in his signature bear hug.

  “Having fun, Clay?”

  “This is genius. It looks like my daddy’s yacht! I was just thinking. We could build the casino to look like a pirate ship! Then we can keep the haunted house. And the wine cellar could be like a pirate’s den!”

  Nicole slid a glance at Chuck, who raised his eyebrows and tipped his Stetson her way. Yeah, he’d heard this already.

  “Clay, if they take your bid, you can do whatever you want. You could buy real pirates if you wanted to.”

  Clay stilled. “Wait, you think I could find some real pirates around here? Chuck!” Chuck didn’t budge. “Chuck! Goddamn it,” Clay muttered after another try. “It’s too loud in here.”

  “Yep.” Nicole smirked as Chuck continued to turn away.

  “So, what did they think of the offer?” Clay asked with barely leashed excitement.

  “They were pleased, but you know how this goes. Someone may want it more than you.”

  “Nicole.” Clay got serious. “No one wants it more than me. Remember that.”

  “May I ask why you want it so bad?”

  “People need to have fun.”

  Nicole looked around. “This looks pretty fun.”

  “I mean rich people. Billionaires.”

  “So your pirate ship casino could be a playground for wealthy tourists.” A vision of a sunburned Clay lounging on the deck of his “pirate ship” surrounded by Brazilian beauties in bikinis popped into her mind.

  “Bingo. An exotic destination, like Atlantis in the Bahamas.”

  Nicole thought of Destin’s lecture on what was good for Rio Grande.

  “Well, you certainly have vision, Clay.”

  His chest puffed. “That’s what my daddy says. Enough shop talk. Let’s get you a drink. Hey, little lady!” Clay shouted at a pretty server.

  Clay ordered a round of caipirinhas for the table, Brazil’s national cocktail. They were made with cachaça, sugar and lime poured over ice. After clinking their glasses together, they all took their first sip. Diane’s lips pursed. Chuck held his breath as he swallowed. And Clay yelled, “Wooo! This drink is strong!”

  Nicole let the liquid slide down her throat, then blew out a calming breath. She’d had her share of exotic liquors. In New Orleans it had been absinthe. Mexico, tequila. Chile, pisco. Cachaça? It tasted like a blend of all of the above, on steroids.

  Clay pursed his lips and slapped his thigh after another sip. “Chuck! We are taking a case of cachaça home!”

  The conversation stayed light, with talk of Clay’s family, his dog and the new home he’d bought in Texas. Diane stared daggers every time Clay’s eyes strayed over a pair of legs that walked by. And the drunker Diane got, the less she hid her disdain, especially since Clay refused to look at her.

  Nicole smelled an affair and a fight coming on. Plus, her polite smile was getting tired. As much as she like
d Clay and was having a good time, all she could think about was Destin.

  She caught herself looking at every dark-haired male on the roof, either wishing it was Destin or forming a comparison. She told herself she wanted to talk more about his interference, but her mind always wandered to his mouth on hers and his body between her legs against the stone wall of the alley.

  She wanted him. Even after the shenanigans of the day, she yearned to see him again. It was torture.

  Excusing herself to the bathroom, she walked toward the back of the deck and, instead of dipping into the ladies’ lounge, found an empty spot at the balcony.

  A blanket of stars twinkled over the man-made lights of the city. She stretched on her tiptoes to locate the ocean, wondering what Destin was doing under the same stars. Laughing at her while sipping wine on his terrace, maybe? Congratulating himself on a well-executed plan of ruin?

  How had she gotten herself into this mess? Destin was an obstacle she didn’t know how to handle, especially since her feelings were so muddled. His family was her client, so any accusations she made against him could jeopardize a multimillion-dollar deal for Dechamps, her company and her reputation.

  Playing along seemed like the best option, as long as she could still make a deal under the radar. Destin had won this last battle, but she still had the casino. Clay was unpredictable, and that might prove to be an advantage.

  After a visit to the lounge, Nicole made her way back to the couches, stepping around a large party. Scanning the dense crowd, she slowed, her heart racing as Destin’s unmistakable profile appeared just a few feet away. Drink in hand, he stood with a group of men, his head thrown back in laughter.

  Her blood pumped and she stood still, paralyzed by the simultaneous urge to be next to him and the instinct to sprint away. The crowd jostled in front of her, teasing her with glimpses of his tall frame. Like a stalker, she watched, waiting for something. A sign, maybe?

  Then it happened. With a slight turn of his head, his gaze settled in her direction. He did a double take, the heat of his gaze traveling over her dress. Quickly, she looked away and kept going, bumping right into a man dancing wildly. “I’m so sorry. Excuse—” Before she knew it, Destin was there, pulling her out of the congestion to the other side of the roof deck.

  He looked amazing. Dashing. His thick dark hair curled at the ends, and his beard was trimmed. He wore a black button-down rolled at the sleeves, jeans and black leather Converse high-tops. Playboy chic.

  “Well, this is a surprise,” she said, feeling a little off balance at how blue his eyes looked. She nearly swooned when he pulled her in close for a kiss on each cheek. He squared his shoulders, blocking out the crush of people behind them.

  “What are you doing here?” His voice was gruff.

  Her chin went up. “So nice to see you too, Destin. For the second time today,” she added, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

  His eyebrows rose, and the slightest smile touched his mouth. “Did you follow me here?” he asked, his fingers grazing her shoulder to brush at a tendril that had come loose from her bun.

  “Get over yourself. I’m here with a buyer. And don’t,” she said, slapping his hand away. “I’m mad at you.”

  “I’m mad at you, too,” he said bluntly. “But I have a feeling I’m going to get over it.” His gaze dipped to her dress. “You look beautiful.”

  A shiver ran up her spine. Where the hell was her drink? “Compliments won’t work. You tried to ruin me today.”

  “And you tried to lie to me today,” he said, drinking deeply from his cocktail. “I think we’re even.”

  “How did you know?” Elliot was the only other person who had her schedule, but their conversation earlier had given her the impression that he and Destin weren’t communicating.

  “Let’s just say I have friends in high places. Did you like the helicopter? I kind of wish I could have been there. Genius, by the way. I didn’t see that one coming.”

  “But you were able to thwart it, anyway. Good for you.”

  He tipped his drink to his mouth and stared at her over his glass for a long moment. His gaze briefly dropped to her lips. “I won’t apologize.”

  “I’d die of shock if you did.”

  Bass music surrounded them, emphasizing the palpable anger that was in the air. As if pulled, he moved closer, and she held back a powerful urge to touch him.

  “We can’t have that, now, can we? You shouldn’t be on that ankle.” He glanced at her shoes. “Be careful. I didn’t bring my knife tonight.”

  “Thank you, doctor, but my ankle is fine.” She showed him with a little twist of her black pump, ignoring the small twinge of pain at the joint.

  “Who are you here with?” he asked, his voice low and impatient. “The casino?”

  She gave him a sharp look. “Yes, the one buyer I have left, no thanks to you.” Her mind ran through scenarios where she told Destin about the pirate ship idea and he threw Clay overboard.

  “And have they made an offer?”

  “Not yet,” she lied, not giving up without a fight.

  “So, what are you doing here with them?”

  “Just drinks. I haven’t seen Clay in a while—”

  “Clay? That’s a name?”

  “Don’t be petty.”

  Destin looked over her head. “Where are they?”

  No, she was not going to introduce them. “Destin, they want to see inside the cellar. I need the keys.”

  Indignation registered on his face for a moment, then a smile spread across his face, one that could only be described as devious. And sexy as hell. He leaned in closer and let his gaze flicker to her mouth. “What would you do for them?”

  The music turned into a heavier beat, and patrons around them danced and shook. Unable to resist his allure, she moved her lips inches from his. “I’d eat rabbit.”

  He smiled. She smiled. Aching for his kiss, her world turned in slow motion as he came forward.

  “Vin amante! Destin! Come on, man, have another!” The man behind Destin stopped short when he saw Nicole. “Oh, wow. Ciao, bella.” Destin quickly straightened. Handsome and lean, with honey-colored hair and an impeccably tailored suit, Nicole could have guessed he was Italian before he had even said ciao.

  Destin’s friend came forward with a big smile and bounced excitedly in his Adidas Stan Smiths. “Introduce us, Desty. Introduce us.”

  Destin closed his eyes then popped them open. “Antonio, this is Nicole. Nicole, this is my friend Antonio. We’ve known each other since university.”

  “Nice to meet you, Nicole. Call me Toni,” he said, holding out his hand.

  “You too, Toni. A pleasure.”

  Toni leaned toward Destin excitedly. “Oooh. She’s American. Now we’re like, the United Nations. Nicole, how does a gorgeous woman like yourself know this lump?”

  Nicole looked to Destin, who was staring over her head. She hoped he wasn’t looking for Clay.

  “We don’t know each other that well,” she said, intent on getting in one last dig. Destin’s gaze snapped to her.

  “Eccellente, that means you and I can get to know each other.” Toni smiled.

  Destin turned to his friend with a murderous look and said something under his breath that made Toni’s eyebrows go up and a sly smile cross his face.

  “You old dog. It’s about time. My sister will be heartbroken,” Toni said with a wink. Destin’s frown deepened. “Come, Nicole, we’ve forgotten our manners. You need a drink.” Toni held out his arm.

  Nicole looked between the two men, who began speaking in Portuguese, noting Destin’s pained look. She didn’t know what they were saying, but whatever it was, it was about her. It was also obvious that Destin didn’t want her to meet his friends.

  “No, I should get back to my party.”

  “Nonsense,” To
ni said, taking her hand and leading her past a brooding Destin. “One drinky-poo.” Suddenly she was led into a small group of very attractive and, judging by the bottle of Macallan 18 sitting out, clearly very wealthy young men. “Attenzione. This is Destin’s friend, Nicole. She’s off limits, so behave yourselves.” Toni laughed and held his glass up. Destin shook his head. A drink came at her from another smiling hottie, who introduced the rest of their crew. She felt like she was in a living, breathing Gap ad.

  Through the introductions, she learned that most of the calendar boys worked in private equity. Toni, however, was an international wine distributor with several warehouses in France and Italy, and one in São Paulo.

  “Are you coming to the party later?” A slim African man asked Nicole after their introductions.

  “What party?”

  “No, I’m sure she can’t. Nicole is here on business for my family,” said a familiar deep voice behind her.

  “Oh,” her new friend said, then he jerked his head back with an enlightened “Oh!” before slinking away.

  Unbelievable. Apparently, Destin had told all of his friends she was a leper. She’d been going to say no anyway, but the fact that Destin was towering above her like a brooding statue, and speaking for her, was just rude.

  She whipped around and was surprised at how close he was standing. “So I’m uninvited to the party?”

  “It’s not a party, just a guys’ night out. You wouldn’t like it.”

  “You wouldn’t know what I like,” she said in soft reproach.

  “I have a very good idea of what you like.”

  There it was again, that magnetic pull of their lips wanting to meet, but neither of them moved. Nicole dropped her gaze, trying to get a hold on her rampant lust. Maybe in other circumstances they would have had a chance, but right here and right now, they were at opposite ends of the spectrum. There was no trust.

  “Good night, Destin.”

  With a wave to the Gap crew, she carefully made her way through the crowd.