Ross: 7 Brides for 7 Blackthornes (Book 3)

by Lynn Raye Harris

  He went around to his side and started the truck, the growl of the engine familiar and welcome in the midst of all these crazy feelings swirling inside him.

  “What are you even doing here, Ross?”

  He gripped the wheel with both hands, considering what to say. “I went by the garage. They had the car loaded in the hauler and they were getting ready to pull out. I should be going with them, but I’m not. So I went home—and it was so damned empty I didn’t want to be there anymore.”

  “So you came looking for me? Or you just kind of happened to show up when I needed you most?”

  And thank God he had. When he’d seen that guy with her, he’d known something was wrong. “You’re the only person I know around here who’s outside the racing world. Hell, you don’t even give a shit about the racing world. And I guess I thought, if I could be with you, maybe I wouldn’t feel so lonely tonight.”

  Not what he’d intended to say, but it was too late now. She was watching him with those pretty eyes, her brows drawing down into a frown as she studied him.

  “Crazy, right?” he said when she didn’t say anything. “You don’t like me much. Or maybe that’s precisely why I’m here. You don’t bullshit me and you don’t seem to want anything from me. You don’t want a piece of me the way everyone else does.”

  She dropped her gaze from his, swallowed, and his dick started to harden. Because that single move told him everything he needed to know about what she wanted. She wanted him. And not because he was Ross Blackthorne—or at least he didn’t think so. She wanted him because they had chemistry. Because something hot burned between them even though she’d been doing her best to ignore it.

  From the minute she’d strode out of the distillery with her clipboard and told him where to park, until now, every interaction they’d had had been leading them to this.

  “I don’t want to like you,” she said softly. “But I do.”

  Chapter Ten

  OH GOD, she’d said it. She’d told him the truth. She liked him. There was no turning back from that. She thought he might grin or smirk or do any number of things that would make her roll her eyes in exasperation.

  But he didn’t. He looked at her with a solemn expression, his handsome face giving nothing away. “I like you too.”

  Her heart thumped. She wanted to ask what that meant. Exactly what that meant. But she couldn’t say the words. How silly would it sound anyway?

  “Thanks for saving me. I was planning to knee him in the nuts once we got outside and he stopped moving, but I’m glad it didn’t come to that.”

  Ross’s eyes widened a little. “Me too. Not because I care what happens to him, but because he might have hurt you before you got the chance.”

  Holly shivered. That had been a possibility, sure. “Do you really think he’ll stay away from the Boot?”

  “He will. If I have to buy the damned place and make a rule he doesn’t get to enter. Ever.”

  His answer shocked her. He had the money. He could definitely do it. It wouldn’t really happen but she was flattered anyway. “I don’t even know who he is. I never saw him before.”

  “I do.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. The guys I was just talking to told me. I know his name and where he works. He won’t ever bother you again, Holly. I wasn’t kidding when I said that.”

  “Don’t do anything crazy, Ross. It’s not worth it.” She was thinking of his career as a driver, and also of the Blackthorne family name. There was nothing he could do that wouldn’t get broadcast to the world and dissected by the media. And she wasn’t going to be the cause of his career or family suffering.

  He frowned. “It’s worth it to me. That man had no respect for you. He was angry that you stood up to him, and he planned to make you pay for it.”

  “I know. But it’s over now. I just want to forget it. Can we go? Please?”

  “Sure.” He reversed onto the street, and then shoved the truck into gear. He squeezed the pedal and the vehicle leapt forward. “You want to go home?”

  “No. Not yet.” Because what if he dropped her off and that was it? She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him. As dangerous as it was, she wanted to spend more time together. Just a little more time.

  “I didn’t ask about your Jeep. Can you leave it overnight or do we need to get it later?”

  Later. That implied he’d be with her for a while. “It’s at home. Mel picked me up and we rode together.”

  “Good. So,” he said as they drove through the darkness. “Where do you want to go?”

  Holly leaned her head back on the seat. She felt a little light-headed, but it wasn’t from drinking. It was him. Being with him. Her heart sped recklessly while her brain tried to throw on the brakes.

  Her heart wasn’t listening. She said the first thing that popped into her head. “The distillery.”

  He glanced at her. “Really? Why?”

  “Not the distillery, precisely. The house there.”

  “Was that your family house?”

  “My grandparents lived there, then my mom and dad. I was born there, actually. I came too quickly. They couldn’t even get out the door to the hospital.”

  “I’m sorry you had to sell it, then.”

  She shrugged. “It goes with the distillery. I believe the plan is to turn it into a restaurant and hotel.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “It used to. It doesn’t anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  “It needs a lot of work, and a lot of care. I used to think if I could buy it, I could fix it up. But I can’t. And I don’t want to, really. Living onsite twenty-four hours a day? No, that wouldn’t be good. It wasn’t good for my father. He was always working.”

  “I understand. The Blackthorne distillery is about a mile’s walk from the estate, so it seemed like my dad was always headed there whenever we were in residence.”

  “In residence? You didn’t live there full time?”

  Ross shook his head. “No. The family summer home is in King Harbor, Maine. That’s where the distillery is. But we lived in Boston during the year.”

  She shouldn’t be surprised. The Blackthornes were loaded. Of course they didn’t live and work near the distillery three hundred and sixty-five days a year. She couldn’t imagine what that was like since her family had always lived on the grounds of their distillery.

  “No wonder you aren’t a whisky maker at heart. You didn’t grow up around it every day of your life.”

  “I was around it enough, believe me. Dad liked to take us all there whenever we were in Maine. Wanted to give us an appreciation for our heritage.” He made the turn toward the distillery. “Which I have. I just wasn’t interested in actually working in the business. I have brothers and cousins who do, and who love it.”

  “How many of you are there?”

  “Seven. All boys. No sisters. We were raised together when my aunt and uncle died in a plane crash.”

  Holly frowned. She remembered reading about a plane crash in which Graham Blackthorne’s brother and his wife died. It had been during her research into the Blackthornes after Ricky and Uncle Evan accepted their offer to buy the Brooks Creek facilities.

  “I’m sorry about your aunt and uncle. That must have been difficult.”

  “It was. They were great. I still miss them. Logan, Brock, and Phillip moved in with us right away. Mom did her best to make sure they felt at home with us.”

  “Brock… he’s the head of marketing and brand management, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s him. Why, has he done something you don’t like?” Ross asked with a laugh.

  “No, not yet. He’s very particular though.” They often got directives from the head office, signed by Brock, which dictated a matter of marketing or policy regarding the Blackthorne name.

  “Yeah, he is. The brand means a lot to him. To all of us, but he’s the keeper and enforcer.”

  “I bet he wouldn’t be happy if you’d pun
ched that guy.”

  Ross pulled up to the abandoned house and stopped. “No, he definitely wouldn’t have been. Good thing I didn’t.”

  “Good thing,” she echoed.

  “So, what did you want to see here?”

  Holly pushed her door open. “I just wanted to see the house. I haven’t come here in a few months now.”

  In the distance, the distillery was lit up with exterior lights that picked out the Blackthorne logo. She could smell the mash in the air. It was sweet and it made her heart glad.

  Holly jumped down and shut the passenger door. Ross came around to her side and waited for her to decide what happened next. She walked toward the house, the gravel crunching beneath her feet. Behind her, she could hear Ross following. She stepped up onto the porch that ran the length of the house. It creaked beneath her weight.

  Ross joined her. “Who has the keys? I’d love to see inside.”

  Holly grinned. “Ah, those would be in the office. But I have a spare.”

  “You do?”

  She walked over to the letter box that perched beside the door. Then she reached inside and pulled a key from under the tape that held it against the front of the box. She smiled when she flourished it for him.

  “Rebel,” he said.

  She handed him the key. “Sometimes. But the honor is yours, Mr. Blackthorne.”

  He frowned at her as if trying to decide if she was serious. Then he stuck the key in the lock and turned it. The door swung open with the kind of creak that typically graced haunted houses.

  “After you.”

  She pushed the door open farther and stepped inside. The house was much as they’d left it, with furniture and antiques that filled the rooms. They were covered in cloths, however. She knew what was under them, but Ross did not.

  “Wow,” he said. She knew what he saw. Detailed woodwork on the walls and doors. Tall windows with the original glass. Soaring ceilings and ornate fireplaces.

  “They don’t make houses like they used to.” It was true. Today’s tract houses lacked so much character. That was why she loved the old ones. Someone like Ross though—he could renovate an old beauty, or he could have a modern home built that contained all these features. She envied him having that kind of choice.

  “My family home in King Harbor—it has these kinds of details. It’s been renovated for modern comfort though.”

  “Nothing wrong with a new old house,” she said.

  “New old house?”

  “You know, where they use old materials but build a new home.”

  “Ah, got it. That’s not King Harbor though. It’s old, and it’s modern in places. The kitchen in particular.”

  “Can’t have an ancient kitchen,” she said as she started to walk across the living room.

  But Ross caught her arm. Turned her toward him. She went willingly. When he tugged her into his arms, she didn’t protest. It was as if she’d known. As if this was the right place and time.

  “I’ve wanted to do this since I first laid eyes on you,” he said.

  She clung to him, clutching his arms as he tilted her head back. And then his mouth crashed down on hers—and the world started to spin.

  SHE TASTED SWEET, like sugar and bourbon, and as her tongue met his, Ross thought for the barest of moments that his knees might buckle. Except he was stronger than that, and he’d kissed far too many women for one to affect him so strongly.

  And yet she was affecting him. More than he’d like. Her tongue stroked tentatively against his and he fisted her dress in his hands, pulling her tighter to him. It wouldn’t take long for her to know exactly how much she affected him if they stayed this close together. Already, he was growing hard—and no amount of control in the world was going to prevent it.

  Holly slipped her arms around his neck, arched her body into his, her mouth opening wider beneath his own. They kissed for long minutes, lost in each other as their hearts hammered and their bodies responded to the heat between them.

  She was pliant against him, her mouth warm and wonderful. He wanted to lose himself in her sweetness.

  “Holly,” he groaned as she moved against him, brushing his erection with her hips. Sending a shudder down his spine. “We have to stop.”

  She tipped her head back to look up at him. “But we just started.”

  He took a breath to steady himself. “I know. But I want a lot more than this kiss—and I don’t think you’re ready for it.”

  Her tongue darted over her lips and he nearly groaned again. But then she took a step backward, breaking the contact between them. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. You’re my boss, and—”

  He put a hand over her mouth, halting the words. “First of all, you didn’t do anything—I did. I kissed you. And I’m thrilled you kissed me back, by the way. I want more of that, but I also want to be in control of myself—which I barely am right now. Second, I’m not your boss.”

  Her eyes gleamed with heat as he peeled his hand away from her lips. She swayed a little on her feet.

  Great, she was drunk. That explained a lot about her reactions tonight. Her guard was down or she’d be giving him hell instead of kissing him and making him crazy.

  “You’re a Blackthorne at the Blackthorne Kentucky distillery,” she said softly. “You are most definitely the boss. Even if you don’t know a new barrel from a used barrel, or ten year-old bourbon from recent harvest. You outrank us all, bossman.”

  He didn’t want to be her boss. Not at the distillery anyway. In bed, however…

  “I’m a Blackthorne, yes—but you’re far more valuable to the distillery than I am, make no mistake. And as for that kiss—you’re splitting hairs, Holly. You didn’t kiss me. I kissed you. And I want to do it again. But I’d prefer to do it when you’re sober. I want to know you’re making the choice with all your wits about you.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. It was dark in the house, but a shaft of moonlight spilled through the windows and across the floor. It was just enough to see her.

  “I’m not drunk. I was milking my drinks tonight. I had two, by the way. And yes, I know you kissed me first. But I didn’t push you away. And I definitely kissed you back. I wanted to do it.”

  She turned and walked away from him, going over to run her hand across a cloth-covered table. He watched her progress through the room, her movements graceful and unhurried as she touched furniture and woodwork. Then she went over and opened a door that led onto the back porch running the length of the house.

  Ross followed her outside, his dick still throbbing with arousal. Holly went over and sat down on a porch swing, rocking it gently. A pond sparkled in the moonlight a short distance away. Frogs croaked a night song and lightning bugs lit the darkness with their blinking yellow abdomens.

  Feelings he didn’t understand swirled inside him. He was out of his element here and he couldn’t seem to get his equilibrium back. Like losing control on the track, he couldn’t stop the spin.

  “I used to sit out here at night when I was a kid,” she finally said. “It was always so peaceful. I loved the sounds. And the smell of mash. Can you smell it?”

  He didn’t have to try very hard. “I do.” He wasn’t certain where she was going with this conversation, but he realized that he didn’t care. He was happy just being here with her. If they sat on the swing all night and never said another word, he’d be content.

  Well, maybe not content, he corrected. He wouldn’t be content until he’d made love to her. That wasn’t happening tonight, though. Maybe it shouldn’t happen at all, but he knew himself well enough to know that he was going to ignore the voice that told him to be careful.

  Careful wasn’t what he did.

  He went over and sat down beside her. She didn’t try to move away from him. He pushed gently in rhythm with her as the swing rocked back and forth. Eventually, he put his hand along the back of the swing, twisted his fingers into a lock of her hair and twirled it.

  So soft and silky. He
lifted it to his nose, inhaled her shampoo. Vanilla and honey maybe. She didn’t pull away at the intimate gesture.

  “Thank you again for intervening tonight,” she said softly. “I couldn’t seem to make anyone understand he was taking me outside against my will. It was crowded and I couldn’t find anyone I knew. I tried to get away, but he was too strong.” She sucked in a breath. “And then there you were, my savior.”

  Anger twisted deep inside again. “I’m not gonna lie—I wanted to tear that guy’s head off. I should have.” He hated that he’d heard both his cousin Brock and Martin Temple inside his brain, warning him not to get violent in a public place. The damage to the brand, to the racing team, blah blah blah.

  “No, you shouldn’t have. You did the right thing and you know it. You don’t need some asshole suing Blackthorne Enterprises just because your family is loaded. The media would have a field day.”

  “They would.”

  “And I’d have been upset that I was the one who caused it to happen.”

  “No, he’d have been the one who caused it. Not you.”

  She lay her head back on the porch swing and gazed up at him. “You’re sweet.”

  He scooted closer, cupped her cheek in his fingers. “I’m not sweet, Holly. I’m angry that someone thought they could touch you without repercussions. I’m angry that I couldn’t do more than I did. That I had to think of the damned brand instead of what you deserved.”

  She put her fingers over his lips. His mouth tingled at her touch. A fierce possessiveness leapt inside him.

  “You did exactly what you’re supposed to do,” she said. “I wouldn’t have wanted you to do anything differently.”

  “I want to kiss you again,” he told her when she pulled her fingers away.

  Her lashes dipped to her cheeks. “I want that too,” she whispered.

  Chapter Eleven

  THIS WAS INSANITY. Sheer insanity. But sitting here on the porch swing with Ross, talking to him, she wanted to try that kiss again.

  Because the first one had been pretty damned spectacular. It wasn’t just that she hadn’t been kissed in a long time. She might not have been, but she could still tell a great kiss from a mediocre one.