Falling for Mr. Wrong: A Bencher Family Book (Entangled Indulgence)

by Inara Scott

  “Look, I have been a jerk for the past few days. Especially today. I should have told you about Luke. I realize that. You’re great with the kids and I’m sorry I’ve been giving you such a hard time.”

  She eyed him suspiciously, unable to tell if he was kidding. “Really? You think I’m good with the kids?”

  “Come on, look around. Julia would follow you to the end of the earth, and Matt thinks you’re some kind of athletic god. Luke hasn’t exactly warmed up, but that’s because he’s an eleven-year-old boy and he’s missing his friends and his mom and doesn’t know what to do about it.”

  She filed away the words, uncomfortable with the emotion they engendered. She didn’t care if Ross’s kids liked her. And even if she did, it didn’t matter. They deserved better than getting involved with someone like her. Hadn’t she always said that? Kids needed someone who would be there when they went to bed at night and when they woke up in the morning. She wasn’t that kind of person.

  “I just need to be honest, because being subtle was never my strong suit. I want you. I’ve never felt this way about a woman—I didn’t even know it was possible to want like this.”

  His gaze moved across her face, dropped lower to survey her body and trail across her breasts. Need sprang up between them, so powerful it was like a physical thing. Everywhere he looked, a fresh wash of desire followed. All her reasons for staying away from him melted in an instant, and she was back in that hotel room, desperate for one more touch of his hand.

  “But I can’t just think about myself,” he said, breaking into her reverie. “It doesn’t work that way for me.”

  “Like it does for me?”

  He grabbed her waist and dragged her hard against him. Showers of sparks tingled in her brain, across her skin, through her heart. “I’d give my left arm to sleep with you again. Maybe the right one, too. But it’s complicated.”

  “Because I’m not a stranger in a bar,” she said, wishing she could pretend it didn’t hurt. “Because you know my last name.”

  He waved one hand in a gesture of helplessness. “I don’t know how to explain this, exactly, but I made a pledge to myself on the day I signed those divorce papers. I knew the process was going to be horrible for the kids, and it killed me. I never wanted to hurt them, and I was committed to doing whatever I had to do to make the rest of their lives better.”

  “You didn’t ask for the divorce.” For a moment, her own pain slipped away, as she remembered how devastated he’d been that night. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened.”

  “I wish that mattered, but it doesn’t. I promised myself back then that if—or when—I dated someone new, she’d have to be right for the kids. She’d have to be the kind of person I could bring home and know they’d love her and she’d take care of them and never leave them.”

  “So you’re telling me after your divorce you made some kind of inner pledge to only date Donna Reed?”

  “Basically, yes.”

  “And then you slept with me.”

  He grinned, and the mood unexpectedly lightened. “Those were my requirements for dating. Lucky for me, we never went on a date.”

  Unwittingly, Kelsey felt some of the tension ease from her body. It was really unfair that Ross’s smile was so warm it acted on her nerves like a damn tranquilizer. “I think I understand. You think if you sleep with me again, we’re dating. And that would mess up the whole personal vow thing.”

  He paused for a moment, and then shrugged, somewhat sheepishly. “Something like that.”

  “But wait,” she said, holding up one palm. “You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions, aren’t you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re assuming that I want to date you.” She tapped one finger in the middle of his chest. “Look at this from my perspective. You’ve got three kids and you live out here in the land of suburbia, with three-car garages and trips to the grocery store every other day to buy more juice boxes. Do you really think this is what I want?”

  He had the humility to look slightly ashamed. “I hadn’t really thought about it that way.”

  Throwing aside all caution and reason, Kelsey wrapped her arms around his neck. She could hardly believe she was touching him, but the simmering attraction between them had taken over, and she could no longer fight it. “Listen, tough guy. I don’t want to date you any more than you want to date me. And I’d appreciate it very much if you’d keep your judgment about my life and my choices to yourself.”

  “But?” He lowered his face an inch, bringing their lips just heartbeats apart.

  “But I would like to sleep with you again.”

  They stared at each other for a long, silent moment. She took a deep breath and screwed up her courage. No, he wasn’t right for her. Yes, this had the potential to lead to nothing but heartache.

  And yet…

  She rose on the tips of her toes, tugged gently on his neck, and pressed her mouth against his.

  That was all it took. In a second Ross had her surrounded and it was like the night at the hotel. An embrace that drew her in and wouldn’t let go. Their hips bumped, lips met, bodies strained. He seemed to envelop her in his arms, surrounding her with strength and deliberate, certain intention. He moved his hands over her hips, slid around to cup her buttocks, and then lifted her up and settled her over his groin. She moaned, low in her throat, and moved her hips.

  “Damn it,” he breathed, pausing for a moment as he buried his face in her neck. “We can’t do this. How could we possibly—”

  As if anticipating what he was going to say next, a sound came from the door, startling them both. The handle clicked as someone from the outside tried, unsuccessfully, to open it. Her heart leaping into her throat, Kelsey jerked from his embrace. She took a second to adjust her clothes before moving swiftly to unlock the door and open it. Julia stood at the threshold, her hair tousled, water bottle in hand.

  “Why was the door locked?” she demanded.

  Kelsey cocked her head, feigning confusion. She hoped like hell that her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt, or her breathing as loud. “What do you mean?” she gulped. “It wasn’t locked.”

  “But it wouldn’t open,” Julia said.

  “Maybe it was stuck,” she offered, glancing quickly at Ross before turning back to Julia. He had his back to them, and was adjusting—well, something. Hurriedly, she took the little girl’s hand and started to lead her out of the room toward the kitchen. “Did you want more water?”

  “Daddy,” Julia called, coming to a halt just outside the door, “are you almost done with your work?”

  Ross turned around. His eyes were glazed and his hair was rumpled and uneven, but when he spoke, his voice was light. “Sorry, pumpkin, not yet. But tomorrow I go see Mr. Herriot. After that I’ll have more time for you.”

  “Okay,” she said, though she sounded skeptical. “I want to show you the park. And Kelsey said there’s a pool that we could go swimming at. She wants to take us tomorrow.”

  Kelsey tugged, ever so gently, on her hand. “Julia, we should get out of your daddy’s hair. I’m sure he needs to work more.” She touched the cap of the water bottle. “Looks like you drank the whole thing. That’s really good, you know, to drink lots of water when it’s hot. Why don’t you run to the kitchen and refill your bottle. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  She waited until Julia had disappeared before she allowed herself one last look at Ross. He rubbed the back of his neck.

  “This is…um…hard,” he said.

  “No kidding.” She laughed a little at the double entendre, forcing herself to sound calm even as her mind spun with frenetic energy. Hard? Try completely nuts. How in the world could they arrange for any kind of rendezvous? He had three kids.

  Three. Kids. And it wasn’t as if they could hire a babysitter—she was the babysitter.

  “Kelsey!” Julia yelled from the kitchen. “Come quick! The water bottle is jammed in the fridge and water i
s getting all over the floor.”

  “I guess I better go,” she said.

  “I guess.” He continued to stare, not moving. She had the feeling he wanted to say something, but had no idea what.

  Which made sense, because she felt exactly the same way.

  Chapter Eight

  “I appreciate your coming on such short notice, Ross.” Armand Herriot motioned toward the large screen on one end of the conference room. “Would you like to get started?” A massive conference table, with seating for twenty, sat in front of the screen. A laptop connected to a glowing projector had been set up in the middle of the table.

  “Yes, that would be great, thanks.” Ross withdrew the jump drive from his pocket. He hadn’t been this nervous since his first big pitch to an investor ten years ago. He surveyed his host out of the corner of his eye as he plugged the drive into the laptop and waited for it to load. Armand looked more like a movie star than a hardened business mogul. Though Wikipedia had proclaimed him fifty-five, there was not a hint of gray in his short brown hair, and his body was lean and trim. His teeth sparkled white, and he wore a black T-shirt tucked into a pair of snug-fitting chinos. He had a long, handsome face with just a hint of cruelty about the eyes.

  Ross hated him on sight.

  This, of course, was not a helpful emotion. Herriot was his key to breaking into the Denver market. They didn’t have to become best friends.

  “I’ll just take a seat,” Armand said, a polite smile on his face. “You can start up whenever you’re ready.”

  The presentation opened with a series of slides of resorts in the popular ski towns of Aspen, Breckenridge, and Vail, several of which were owned by Armand. “As you are well aware,” Ross began, “Colorado’s mountains provide unparalleled beauty, and opportunities for resorts that cater to the world’s most discerning, high-end customers.” Ross cut to a map showing the general location of the property that Armand had identified for this project, which was near the western border of the state. “However, I believe the area you’ve identified will appeal to a different sort of clientele.”

  The slide show changed to a series of pictures of families, young children, and large gatherings. “In today’s tough economic times, families want to spend quality time together in a setting that caters to their needs, without breaking their budgets. We can provide that.” He flipped through pictures of people riding on horseback, couples getting massages, and families hiking on trails through the forests. “My concept has all the traditional amenities of a Western resort but we would target working families, not the sort of upper-end clientele that you’ve worked with in the past. While those markets have the potential for high profit margins, I believe we will find greater long-term potential and community support with this family-oriented model.”

  He spared a quick look at Armand. The older businessman had pulled his sunglasses from his shirt and was twirling them between two fingers. He looked thoughtful, but not negative. Ross decided to take that as a good thing. He advanced to the composite image that his design team back in New York had put together and paused. The central lodge was a beautiful soaring building with huge banks of windows along the front and back. Solar panels dominated one side of the roof, while a small fleet of bikes was parked out in front. Smaller cabins dotted the landscape behind it, joined by a meandering bike path.

  “This is our rendering of the property. I have a number of additional slides with more details about the resort and my financials, but I thought I’d stop here and see what you think about the concept.”

  Armand nodded slowly. He squinted at the screen, expression inscrutable. Ross’s heart thudded. It would be an exaggeration to say that everything rode on Herriot’s decision. Ross could try to head out on his own, but he knew how hard it was to start up a new business, especially in the current market. Getting Herriot on his side would be the difference between taking off like a rocket and pushing a stone uphill.

  “An interesting idea,” Herriot finally said. “I mean, I hate it, but it’s precisely the sort of nonsense I expected you might dream up.”

  Ross blinked, hoping he’d misheard. “Excuse me?”

  “All that affordable family bullshit.” Herriot waved dismissively. “It’s a load of crap. Kids are expensive. Parents want discounts—they don’t want to pay for extras. Unless they’re wealthy, guilt-ridden, and ready to buy anything to satisfy the whims of little Jonny and Jane, I don’t want them anywhere near my properties.” He smiled, revealing ultra-white, Hollywood-straight teeth.

  A heavy weight settled into Ross’s stomach. He’d known that his family concept was a risk. It was completely different from Herriot’s other investments, which never boded well. But after looking at the site and studying the market, he felt it was the only way he could make the property a success. “I disagree about the finances,” he said. “On the other hand, if you aren’t interested in the concept, maybe we could tweak—”

  Herriot cut him off with a raised hand. “Oh, there’s no tweaking that would save this. I’m not running a nonprofit. If we’re doing families, we’re doing high-end, Club Med families. There’s a market there. A market that would actually pay.”

  Ross gritted his teeth. He knew he’d hated Herriot from the beginning. This just confirmed it. “With all due respect, this is a business. It might not have the cachet of a five-star resort, but there’s a need for this kind of service, and if we make it sustainable and community-oriented, I think we will have an easier time working with local landowners and getting permits from the state land-use board.”

  Herriot snorted. “Trying to re-create Hollyhock Manor?”

  Ross had wondered how long it would be before Herriot brought up Hollyhock. Hollyhock Manor was an affordable housing development designed and built by Ross and his team, which had had the misfortune of opening right at the height of the market crash. Many of the families it housed had lost their jobs when the plastics manufacturing plant in town closed, and at one point, almost 50 percent of the homeowners were facing foreclosure. Ross hadn’t been able to stomach the news that so many of the families there were poised to lose their homes, so he’d stepped in and personally financed a huge buyout.

  When he responded, it was with a weary familiarity. “Last year, Hollyhock homes saw twenty percent increases in value. We gambled on helping the homeowners by buying out their mortgages and refinancing the debt and it worked. No one ended up in foreclosure and the neighborhood has improved every year. Crime is down and everyone is making their payments. We could do much worse than to re-create Hollyhock.”

  Now that housing values were growing so fast, Hollyhock looked like a great investment. But for years, he’d been justifying what everyone called an enormous mistake. Investors wanted quick returns, not the long process of working with families and building communities. His accountants and senior managers knew that the deal had stretched company finances to the breaking point. Even Jenna had worried that they might lose everything.

  For him, it had simply been the right thing to do.

  “I’m not interested in arguing about the details of your charity operations.” Herriot pointed to the screen. “Go back to the map of the property.”

  Ross obliged, though he wondered what the man had in mind. Why, if he truly hated Ross’s idea, was he bothering to continue? “Yes?”

  Herriot pulled a laser pointer from his pocket. He held it out and a tiny red dot appeared on the screen, tracing the property boundary Ross had highlighted on the map. “As you know, this is the area I’m targeting for the resort. I’ve got interest from all of these landowners in selling. The problem is here.” He stopped the pointer in the center of the highlighted area. “There’s a hundred-acre parcel right about here that I haven’t mentioned. It’s owned by a man named Harvey Stagefeather. I’ve met with him—or tried to meet with him—twice. He refused both times to talk to me about selling. Without his land, the rest of the property is worthless.”

  Ross squinted, confu
sed. “What do you mean, refused?”

  “I believe his exact words were, ‘It will be a cold day in hell before I sign anything over to you.’”

  “Why are you bothering to pursue the idea if he won’t sell?”

  “You’re the hero of Hollyhock Manor.” Herriot grinned, exposing those blindingly white teeth in a feral grin. “I think he’ll sell it to you.”

  Chapter Nine

  Kelsey lifted a lid and stirred the contents of the small saucepan. A thick, lumpy mass of white goo congealed on the surface of the spoon, defying all attempts to shake or whack it loose. After a moment of hesitation, she used her finger to send the mass back into the pot. Then, under the watchful eyes of the children, she forced herself to lick her finger clean.

  “Is it ready?” Matt asked, leaning forward in a hopeful manner.

  “Yep.” Kelsey steeled herself not to shudder at the taste. “Why don’t you check the bread and see if it’s done.”

  Matt opened the oven door and gazed inside. “Um, I think so? It’s a little black on top. Is that okay?”

  Luke rolled his eyes. He was leaning against the center island in the kitchen, looking every bit the cynical teenager despite being only eleven years of age. “It looks horrible. I don’t know why you tried to make Alfredo.”

  “Because it’s Daddy’s favorite,” Julia offered, from her seat at the island. “Remember? He always used to order it from Alessandro’s. And today was his big presentation. So we made it to celebrate.”

  “Yeah, I know that,” Luke replied. “I’m just saying it was a stupid idea. Besides, if Dad really liked Alessandro’s Alfredo so much, we could have stayed in New York and had it whenever we wanted.”

  Pushing aside a stray piece of hair with the back of her hand, Kelsey grabbed an oven mitt and pulled the long baguette from the oven. Unfortunately, Luke did have a point. The bread was black on top, and when she pulled it apart, chunks of poorly-chopped garlic sat poised like exposed land mines, just waiting for the unsuspecting to take a bite.