Home at Last [Davis Hollow, Davis Ranch 1] (Siren Publishing Allure)

by JQ Jones

  “Finished,” she said softly.

  “Whaddya got, Lil Bit?” CJ had watched her closely since sitting down, sipping from his refilled cut glass tumbler of scotch.

  “Your project will come in at about €57 billion, but if you present the project to the Brits with the added information that you can use the green grants offered by the US government to offset your costs, create about 3,000 jobs in America, another 1,500 or so in Britain, and make a profit on the deal of about 35%, give or take, mostly give. Then Okey will win the bid. That’s the rough and dirty, but I’ve put together a simple prospectus that backs up what I’ve said. But you guys have to sell it to the Brits and our government.” Iona finished speaking to total silence.

  CJ’s team looked from CJ to Clint, sitting at the bar laughing loudly.

  “Jesus, Lil Bit, you’re so damn smart you’re scary,” CJ said. “You guys take the report, check it left, right, and sideways, and get on the damn phone to the Department of Energy. We need a buy in from them before we sit down in…” Clint looked at his watch. “About, shit, three hours.”

  Nobody moved, eyes still on the tiny brown woman with ass-length dreads who looked more like a high school senior than an energy consultant. Will smiled and shot her a huge thumbs-up. Iona smiled back and took tiny sips of her drink. Clint walked through the silent cabin with the bottle of scotch to refill her glass. He clinked her glass to his and totally ignored CJ’s growl.

  “Now, people,” CJ shouted.

  Iona fumbled her glass at his bellow but Clint quickly caught it.

  “Don’t worry, Baby girl, he won’t hurt me.” He laughed as CJ came to sweep her out of Clint’s path. CJ pulled Iona down to his lap, caressing her gently as he sat watching his team handle phone calls to the States and Britain at the same time.

  Once they touched down, a representative from the US embassy met them to hand over Iona’s passport, just in time to have it stamped as they whisked through customs, leaving behind a group of pissed-off passengers from several commercial flights.

  Iona curled into the corner of the first limousine, trying to see everything but nodding off before they reached the hotel. They had two floors of a boutique hotel in Soho, where they were fawned over by the staff. Iona and CJ’s team bustled to put together sets of numbers and presentations for the meeting. CJ insisted that Iona go with them although she really wanted to sleep.

  Mr. Yablonski had finished a navy-blue silk suit for her to wear to the meeting. The tiny tailor had labeled each outfit to his prescribed use. For evening he’d chosen a flowing gown that might work for someone tall and slender but made her look like a small hydrant. It had been Mr. Yablonski’s only mistake. All the rest of the wardrobe fit not only her body but her personality. He fussed with the cut and slammed a warm ivory silk blouse into her waiting hands and sent her to dress. She thought she looked okay, and once she added pretty little cowboy boots, she strutted through the lobby of the UK department responsible for the wind farm construction with a total badass confidence.

  The conference room overlooked the London Eye and had a great view of the Thames. Iona listened with half an ear, staring out the window, trying to see as much of the city as she could from the cold, busy room.

  The Brits were adamant about the Chinese deal until CJ pointed out that their proposal was cheaper in the long run, but still the director was reluctant.

  “Internationally that’s a good strategy but it won’t help in the coming elections unless they have a local jobs component.”

  The room became quiet. Iona bit her inner lip hard. CJ just looked at her with the small smile he used on her to get what he wanted.

  Iona took a drink of very good tea, stronger than the Darjeeling that she got at home. She held CJ’s eyes.

  “You need to cement ties with the mainland, but if the press takes the story that was leaked to them, then they have a partial idea of the deal that Okey is presenting. This deal, as leaked, will produce at a minimum 1,500 jobs plus create a service industry of skilled labor that could effectively create 20,000 more.” She turned to accept more tea from a very young man. She smiled her thanks. He tripped a little as he backed away.

  “The Chinese, statistically speaking, normally underbid their jobs by about 40%, so if you add the fact that they haven’t used the newest employment rates, you’re looking at a deal almost double the price by the time they finish,” Iona said absently to the room.

  “If there are any proprietary processes, they will insist on a schematic that explains the UK’s entire electrical infrastructure. Or they’ll simply reverse engineer it based on the information they will need to design the wind farm,” she went on.

  Iona felt CJ’s hand gently patting her thigh. “Add that to the fact that their work, which they insist on doing remotely, will not add any jobs to the UK. Your prime minister ran on reinvigorating the job market. Well, gentlemen and lady, this will add the jobs he’s talking about. More.” Iona carefully placed her teacup down. CJ rubbed her leg under the table and she almost forgot to look at the scenery.

  James Whittaker straightened to project all his power as the CEO of the conglomerate that was in charge of the build. He cleared his throat in an almost delicate way. His cufflinks flickered in the late-evening gloom.

  “Let’s put this one to bed and say we have a tentative agreement with Okey.” He drew his lips into a small smile. “I have made reservations for dinner for you and your staff, Christopher. Is eight o’clock okay with you?”

  Iona glanced to her right. Will beamed at her while the rest of the team busied themselves packing up the mounds of paper. CJ and Whittaker stood close to the window in a quiet conversation. Iona helped with the cleanup, taking the opportunity to ask the young man, Thomas, where the tea was from. They chatted for a while until the Okey team started to shake hands all around and moved quickly down the corridor and into the elevator. Iona hummed in the silence of the elevator ride down to the underground garage and into a large, waiting limo.

  The driver helped them in and drove onto the busy London streets. As soon as the car stopped at the first light, a wave of screaming, hooting, and hollering made cars waiting beside them look over to the noise.

  * * * *

  Iona roused to the sound of good-byes and listened to Will’s quick instructions about transportation to the restaurant. Iona crossed to the door of the bedroom as soon as the last person was out. She tried to pull off her boots but had no success. She stripped the suit and blouse off and lay, in silk bra and panties and cowboy boots, across the bed. She was asleep almost as soon as she lay down.

  She woke totally nude, pressed against CJ’s hard penis. A steady stream of rain poured down the windows, making Iona want to go back to sleep. Her bladder was full to bursting, but she didn’t want to wake CJ. He looked better, no dark circles under his eyes and younger than she thought he was. He was thirty-eight, but he looked like a little boy lying there with his arms possessively around her.

  “You finally wake up, Lil Bit?” CJ didn’t bother to open his eyes.

  “How long have I been asleep? What time is it?” Her voice came out in a croak.

  He rolled away from her to pour her a glass of water. “It’s 6:45 p.m.”

  “Shit, we have to shower and get dressed.” She struggled to get up. He held her down, smiling and still not opening his eyes.

  “Whittaker and I agreed to get there at 9:30 so that the staff can enjoy themselves before the old guys get there. You are now officially one of the ‘old guys.’ Brush those teeth. You got dragon breath.”

  “Fuck you, CJ.”

  “Oh I plan on that, Lil Bit, but first go do your business.” He laughed as he rolled over to face the window.

  There was no one else in the suite. She took a long, long shower with her hair carefully tied up in a silk scarf, brushed her teeth and placed a call to Linc and Cyn. She two-wayed them and told them about her trip so far, minus the mind-blowing sex account.

  S
he called room service to order tea and scones. Hell, you have to have tea and scones when you’re in England. It’s the law, or should be.

  She didn’t look up when CJ came out of the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He sat at the table, nibbling a scone and drinking tea with his pinky sticking out. Iona laughed and kept quiet. He just watched her. Finally, she broke the silence.

  “When do we go home?”

  “We closed the deal. The Chinese couldn’t come close. The deal’s all over the news. Okey Energy stock is going through the roof in America. We expect it to split. My parents are extending their stay in the south of France by another six weeks. You and I are going to the ranch for a few weeks after we spend a few more days here.” CJ stared at the clotted cream Iona poured over her scones.

  “I’m going home to Mount Olive, West Virginia. You owe me a really big bonus, a really great reference, plus my .01% of profit. The stock thing is better than I’d thought.” Iona spread more jam over a scone. She squeaked when he snatched her across the table and arranged her legs open, spread wide, and meshed her already wet pussy onto his hard dick.

  “Tonight we do the whole nicey-nice with the Brits at a late dinner, do a pub crawl, then tomorrow we sightsee and have dinner with a college friend of mine. He’s another cousin. Next day, more shopping, then if we can fit it in, a day trip to Paris. After that, the jet comes and takes us back to the ranch.” He slowly rolled her over his dick, wetting it. His one hand cupped her breast, tweaking the nipples one then the other until they both peaked hard.

  His mouth covered her right breast and she moaned, wiggling to stoke her clit against him in a slow, steady rhythm. He groaned his pleasure over her nipple.

  “No, we finish what we’re doing right now. I just took a shower and don’t plan on getting all musky before dinner. I do want to go to a real pub, then bed, then on a plane to Charleston via DC or Richmond,” Iona gasped out against the top of his head. She breathed in the spicy smell of his shampoo and that underlying scent that was just CJ, manly, bossy, CJ. She came.

  Her moaned release started slow and low but progressed to a high keen as CJ guided her hips faster and faster making her meet his thrust, pressing her clit harder onto his wet and leaking dick. He bit down hard on her nipple, pushing her orgasm longer. He timed it so that at the very apex, he plunged fully into her pulsating pussy.

  He didn’t try to stave off his release, just slammed in and allowed her spasms to milk him. CJ licked her neck and shoulders, savoring the sweat as it dripped off her body.

  Iona lay, boneless and totally relaxed. “Have to take another shower and get dressed,” she rasped out.

  “Lil Bit, you can’t even walk. Close your eyes for fifteen minutes.” CJ pulled her into the bedroom and pushed her down onto a bank of pillows on the bed. “Few minutes sleep then out to dinner and the pub.” He waited until he heard a soft snore before adding, “Day after tomorrow we go home to the ranch.”

  Chapter Seven:

  Big City

  By 8:00 p.m., CJ and Iona were up, dressed, and almost at the upscale restaurant in Kensington. By the time they arrived, Will, Clint and the rest of the Okey staff had integrated with the British staff. Laughter floated from the private room. Whittaker met them at the door of the room.

  “I told Christopher how startled I was when we were introduced today. You’ve a much more mature voice on the phone. May I call you Iona?”

  “Of course.”

  “Please call me James. I’d love to talk to you about another project that our consortium is proposing for the Fiji Islands.” He patted Iona’s hand he held clasped between his large hands.

  “I’d love to speak to you about that project. If it’s the one I think it is, I might have a bit of a conflict. I’ve made an initial proposal to Okey. We’ve haven’t spoken formally about it,” Iona said, sipping a red wine so dry it made her thirsty. CJ positioned his body so that he was between Whittaker and Iona.

  She willed CJ to keep up the slow stroke of her hand as it lay on the crook of his arm. She wore an above-the-knee-length black pencil skirt that showed off her toned ass and firm legs. She wore a ruby cashmere sweater with a deeper V than she was used to, but Mr. Yablonski said that it was one of the outfits he expressly picked out for a business dinner. Her four-inch platform pumps gave her a sense of vertigo, so she accepted CJ’s arm until they sat down for dinner.

  CJ and Iona stood by a wide expanse of window that opened up to a rainy back-lit garden.

  “I don’t recall us speaking of a Fiji project.” He bent close to her ear.

  “Actually we have. One night you talked about going to your house somewhere close to Fiji. And I said that there was an interesting study done on the future of the islands in the Pacific surviving a sustained rise in sea levels. You said it was literally sink or swim time there. So I worked out a preliminary proposal to outline both those options. I haven’t sent it because we were working on this thing.” She placed her hands on his shoulders to speak softly in his ear.

  “I’ll look at it when we get back. Send it to me,” he said. After that they moved around the room chatting with the British members of the team. Iona and the young man with the tea, Thomas, talked about geese until the waiter suggested they sit down.

  They ate the dinner designed by the celebrity chef that consisted of very pretty, colorful food but not much of it. She giggled with Will over the lack of meat.

  “It’s good,” Iona whispered to Will.

  “But where is the rest of it?” Will whispered back. They began to laugh at dessert, raspberries over cumin German chocolate cake sitting in a huge oversize plate and looking as if it would be gone in two bites.

  “I’d kill for a joint and a hamburger,” Iona said.

  CJ patted her leg, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a platinum cigarette case. Iona didn’t open it.

  “Will, you indulge?”

  “I know exactly where we can go.” Will excused herself with Iona right on her heels. Iona was surprised when Thomas and a few of his workmates joined them. CJ had two hitter quitter. Iona did her pass and wanted no more. It didn’t calm her like her own mix. She hit each of the three joints once and returned to the table. Will had a travel-size clothes freshener that she spritzed over everyone.

  Thomas said, “Iona, would you like to come around after to my apartment for a drink?”

  Iona smiled and began to speak but was interrupted by Will. “You did see her come in with Christopher Joseph Davis? You have noticed that he never stops touching her? You see how close she stands to him?”

  “Yes, I noticed, but he is quite a bit older than she is. Hell, I’m older than she is and I’m twenty-five. But he is very wealthy,” Thomas said.

  “So I’m with CJ because he’s rich. Not because he’s brilliant, not because he’s kind and considerate, not because he’s thoughtful, but because he has money. Thanks a lot for calling me a gold digger, Thomas,” Iona said. She puffed the passing joint quickly.

  “But he’s old.”

  “He’s only thirty-fucking-eight. How would he be able to control one of the most innovative energy companies in the world if he were twenty-five?” she asked. Iona sipped wine from the glass Will offered her.

  “But you have to admit,” one of Thomas’s friends piped in, “birds tend to go for the men with money.”

  “Birds flock to men who are confident and kind. I’m getting the vibe that you must be older to offer that without coming off like a dick,” Iona said.

  Will coughed into her wineglass. “Come on, guys, let’s go say good night and hit the clubs.”

  “I’m going to a pub with CJ,” Iona said. “I’ve never been to one,” she said close to Thomas’s face. He smiled sloppily.

  “I admit CJ is fabulously wealthy, but he’s more than that and that’s what I love about him.” She entered the dining room, and Iona felt her cheeks burning as she sat down beside CJ. He leaned over to kiss her, going back to his conversa
tion with Whittaker and his number two, Paul Symthe. Iona waved to Will and the rest of the team as they said their good-byes and left. She listened to CJ and Whittaker talk for another two hours.

  “On to the pub, Lil Bit, then rest,” CJ said after a forty-five-minute conversation with Whittaker.

  The rain poured down steadily as they piled into the waiting limo. Paul directed the driver to a pub not too far from their Soho hotel.

  * * * *

  The pub, the Swinging Gander, was on the corner across the street from their hotel. The outside doors opened into a tiny entrance that led to a small bar crowded with older men drinking pints of lager. Paul helloed a few patrons and the bartender. A singer and guitarist played old songs in one corner, while a lively game of darts took up another corner. Iona followed Paul to a leather-lined bench. CJ and James took the outside seats.

  “I’ll go up and get the first round, shall I?” Paul hopped across the booth. James went with him.

  Iona and Paul talked music while watching people come and go. Conversations became louder and looser as they drank tall glasses of beer and gin. CJ and Whittaker discussed possible solutions for rising sea levels.

  Iona and Peter took their conversation about goats to the bar and back for the next round. CJ drank dark stout, leaned over, and nibbled Iona’s ear lobe. She managed not to squirm, continuing her conversation with Peter while she glanced around the room.

  “I always thought I might like this kinda thing, but I figured I’d find out later in life. This is cool.” She spoke directly in CJ’s ear, in her normal, quiet, husky voice. “Thanks for the invitation.”

  “My pleasure, Lil Bit. I’m havin’ a ball watching you get all excited over stuff that’s become blasé for me,” CJ rumbled back into her ear.

  “You’re spinning the dart too much when you pitch,” Iona said to a red-faced old man in a thick sweater. He clutched an unlit pipe in his teeth.

  “Ladies, especially very young American ladies, don’t usually know such things about darts. Play, do ya?” He had a loud, nasally cockney accent.