by Jillian Neal
There were very few things that Jack trusted implicitly. He didn’t even trust himself. He was the product of Palmer and Beverly Denton after all. But the vow he’d just made he knew he would keep. He would never let her down.
He was going to have to prove himself to her if he was going to get her to let him help with the Marsden case and if he was going to be able to keep her begging for more of him. One mattered far more than the other.
“So, why did you pick that dress?” she asked again. “I want to learn all of these ridiculous rules you have to live by. Apparently, I have to go to some bridal tea for your ex-fiancée and you won’t be there then. Plus, can I just say that it’s very weird that your family is throwing some kind of tea for her. Shouldn’t they have taken your side?”
“They would never have taken my side, and I will be at the tea. I also have a female cousin, Lila, I mentioned before. You’ll meet her tomorrow night. She’ll be there, and you can trust her.”
“You’re going to come to a ladies’ bridal tea?”
“I’m not going to leave you alone with my mother. I can drink tea. I’ll even practice the pinky thing just to make Beverly happy. I won’t let you down. I’m going to keep saying that until I get it through your stubborn head. But to answer your question about the dress—I chose it because you look stunning in green and because I want to take it off of you tonight.”
Panic lit the flecks of gold in her eyes. “That was a stupid thing to do. What if I’m underdressed or overdressed or wrongly dressed?” She was officially coming undone. If it hadn’t had anything to do with him, Jack would’ve thoroughly enjoyed this. He’d never seen Meridian so ruffled.
Standing and guiding her into his arms, if for no other reason than to feel her tuck her head on his shoulder, he soothed, “You will be perfect in that dress, and when I get you far enough away from whomever my mother has coming over tonight, you will be perfect undressed as well.”
He’d been bred and raised on the finest whiskeys in the world. His palate was still well-trained enough to be able to discern the difference between a 93.7 proof small batch reserve and a 122 semi-limited. With a single sip, he could tell you not only the family who owned the distillery of the brew but also the year and season of the mash. So, he certainly knew that Meridian Holder’s essence would be the most delectable thing he’d ever have on his tongue.
Chapter Seventeen
Meridian stepped into the deliciously soft silk dress and stared at her reflection in the mirror. When she’d boarded the private plane that morning, she could never have even fathomed that she’d end up right where she was standing.
She’d been attracted to Jack for years, but she’d always let her irritation that he seemed to have the adoration of the county that her family founded keep her from doing much about it. She’d tried to tempt him to say something to her, to admit he found her equally as attractive, with the photos she’d had one of her cousins-in-law take for her. She also knew that ploy was not only undeniably childish, but it was downright mean. Unable to fully nail down her motivation, she’d buried the photos in a file cabinet and had forgotten about them until today.
Now she had to go out there and convince a bunch of trust fund princesses and bourbon tycoons that she was madly in love with the Dentons’ middle son. There was no sure footing on which she could stand. Her only choice was to cling to Jack to keep herself upright, and nothing about that felt particularly sure either.
The only way out was through. Holding the spaghetti straps of the dress to her shoulders, she slipped into the bedroom. “Can you zip me up?” She hated how her voice shook but loved the responding tremor that worked through Jack as he drank her in. Lust shimmered in his eyes. The dress was totally worth it. “Jack?” she urged when he didn’t respond.
“Possibly,” he finally responded.
Grinning at that, she stepped to him. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Like doesn’t even begin to cover it.” He let his fingertips trail down the bare skin of her back en route to the zipper sitting at the top of her equally bare ass. The dress was too thin for her to wear undergarments. A low growl sounded in her ear. “How the hell do you expect me to get through this dinner knowing that this flimsy scrap of designer silk is all that keeps me from your body?”
“Think of it as foreplay,” she teased, enjoying herself now.
“Four years of foreplay, cowgirl. Every time I’ve ever imagined anything involving your zipper at the office it was moving the other direction.” He slowly slid the thin zipper to the top of the dress.
“I didn’t know you were attracted to me,” she confessed.
“As that would’ve been wildly inappropriate given our current positions.”
She spun to look at him. “After seeing the way you interact with your family, wildly inappropriate seems to be your preference.”
“I’ll go along with that”—he drew a deep breath—“but as I pointed out earlier, you are lethally dangerous to my career, and self-preservation is hardwired into us all.”
“You’ve been dealing with whiskey barons too long. My uncles are entirely too fair and kind to get rid of you just because we dated and then stopped.”
“Are you suggesting that you might like to extend our one-week deal after we return home?”
“No, I’m just pointing out that I have much more to lose than you ever would. The residents of Holder County revere you.”
“And why do you think that is, Miss Holder?” He placed heavy emphasis on her last name to make his point.
Fine. Maybe he had her there. She supposed it was possible that the town adored him because her family thought so highly of him. “My family knows I’m out here with you. Mama was fine with it. Daddy was grumpy about it, but he’s always grumpy about me and anyone with a dick being around each other. All dads are like that.”
“The assumption that all fathers care about their kids as much as your father dotes on and cares for you only further proves my point.”
“Which is what?”
“That seeing something from a perspective other than our own is exceptionally difficult and often exceptionally uncomfortable.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
The intercom wired in from the front gates had buzzed a few times. People were obviously arriving. Whether she was ready or not, it was show time. “Let’s get this over with.”
“I promise to reward you mightily after this is over.”
“I’m holding you to that.”
“You can hold me to anything you’d like, cowgirl.” He secured her hand in the crook of his arm. The feel of his bicep and the heat of him settled her enough to allow him to guide her back out into the long hallway.
Meridian looked like a seductive green flame as Jack guided her toward the entrance hall. He resisted the urge to construct some kind of cage for her out of his body to keep her from even potentially being emotionally harmed that evening. But for a woman who hated the idea of being protected, he suspected that would go over about as well as trying to convince his father to pay off all of Maggie’s daughter’s hospital bills anonymously.
Well trained in spying on the inhabitants of River Chase, he slowed their approach when he saw his father’s office door open just a crack and heard his mother’s frantic whisper. He and Meridian shared an intrigued glance. She used her head to gesture to a nearby nook that probably served some logical purpose at some time, but now only held a massive Lalique vase and floral arrangement.
Listening intently, he heard his mother hiss, “That ring is for Greer. Jackson knows that. I’m telling you there’s something odd about this entire situation. He’s proposing to her. How did that happen? I refuse to believe this isn’t fake just to anger us.”
His father sounded bored as always. “To be fair, he rarely calls. Neither of us have spoken to him in months. I suppose it could be true, definitely not as planned though. This complicates everything.”
“I’ve spoken to him. I called his
office twice this week.”
“To insist that he come to Tiffany’s wedding. Maybe she’s in trouble. Jack’s overblown sense of morality has always made him irrational and reckless.”
Meridian’s mouth dropped open, and Jack ground his teeth, angry at himself for feeling shocked at anything they said at this point. When would he learn to let nothing that went on at River Chase surprise him?
“I couldn’t get anything out of Jackson’s secretary,” his mother huffed.
Meridian turned her confused glare on Jack. “Mitch,” he mouthed but then waved off further question. He’d assure her that he never told his mother that their legal assistant was his secretary after they’d finished eavesdropping on this current conversation.
“I should probably phone her father and apologize for the situation. Maybe create some goodwill. We could arrange to make it all go away. She could take care of that while she’s here.”
Meridian’s fingernails dug deep into Jack’s forearm. Damn, that hurt. “He cannot call my father and say that!” For words that held no volume, they were plenty threatening.
“He won’t,” Jack assured her as he pulled her claws from his arm.
“You just make certain that ring stays in this family and that girl does not,” Beverly demanded.
“Jack is still a part of this family.” His father didn’t sound particularly thrilled by that.
“Perhaps I should’ve been clearer. You make certain that ring stays with someone who has our family’s best interests at heart.”
Jack yanked Meridian into a nearby guest room and listened to his parents head toward their party.
“Jack!” she seethed. “Do you have any idea what my father would do if he thought I was pregnant?!”
“Weren’t you just the one trying to assure me that your father was level-headed, kind, and calm?”
“Do not throw my words back in my face, Denton. Your parents are insane.”
“I am well aware. I’ll talk to him after the party, but he’s not going to call, not tonight anyway. He’ll be too busy trying to impress Katherine Setton.”
“Who the hell is Katherine Setton?”
“His mistress.”
That took her a few seconds to recover from. “Your father’s mistress is coming to a dinner party hosted by your mother?” Shock dripped from each word.
“Of course, but Rich Kline will likely also be in attendance.”
She continued to blink at him as if that would make any of the nuances of the evening palatable. “Let me guess,” she started.
“My mother is his mistress,” he concluded for her.
“The moral fiber of your family—”
“Would leave one freezing on a cold Kentucky night. I’m aware of that as well.”
“Also, it’s incredibly sexist that there isn’t a commonplace word for the man involved in an affair. Mistress is used to describe the woman as if she somehow belongs to the man, but the guy in the relationship just gets away without a title.”
“Shall we call Rich her man-stress?”
“Yes. We shall.” Oddly, this seemed to soothe a little of her fire.
“Fine. They are both involved in extramarital affairs to secure business acquisitions. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Money is the driving force behind everything they do. He only said what he said to appease my mother. He wouldn’t place a call to your father because it wouldn’t gain him a dime.”
“My parents wouldn’t be upset if I was pregnant,” she vowed. “They’d be upset that they didn’t hear about it from me.”
Jack gave her a solemn nod. “I know. Believe me, your family is everything I wish mine would aspire to be, but they never will. I have to play the cards I’ve been dealt.” The image of Meridian pregnant should not have elicited such a primal response from him. He called himself an asshole for good measure. But the internal scolding did nothing to erase the idea from his head—or both of his heads if he were being honest. Did she want to have children? Was that something he even had the right to ask her? Likely not. He was only pretending to be engaged to her and hopefully giving her a week of pleasure. The situation was fraught with confusion and potential pitfalls. He was going to have to watch himself while watching out for her.
Chapter Eighteen
Meridian took more comfort in Jack’s solid arm around her waist as they stepped into the front hall than she probably should have, but she was exhausted from constantly second-guessing her own feelings and motives. She liked being with him, being beside him, being his if only for a little while.
When they got back home, she could throw herself back into both of her jobs and get rid of anything that wasn’t going to be reciprocated. She even allowed herself to admire his assuredness as he kept her tucked safely to his side while lifting two cocktails from the tray one of the kitchen staff held.
“Jackson,” a man around Jack’s father’s age gave them a kind grin. “Look at you. How long has it been?” Jack released Meridian only long enough to exchange a handshake.
“Mr. Beaumont, how are you, sir? This is my fiancée, Meridian Holder.”
Meridian smiled politely and accepted an inquisitive nod from the man.
“Holder? Holder? Do I know that name? Where are you from, dear?”
“My family owns a cattle ranch in Oklahoma.”
Beaumont’s entire expression changed. He eyed Jack with some expression Meridian couldn’t quite name. Confusion, maybe? Or was that disappointment? “I see. Well, I know your father misses you up here. Can’t be a family business without the family, now can it?”
Jack’s jaw visibly clenched before he took a quick sip of the cocktail. “There are plenty of Dentons around. I’m not needed, and we’re very happy in Oklahoma. I always tell people not to knock it until you’ve seen a sunrise.”
“Oh, well, of course.” Beaumont gestured to Meridian. “Cowgirl has to stay on the ranch, right?”
Jack made no effort to hide his obvious annoyance. “Even if Meridian wasn’t a part of my life—not something I ever want to have to think about—I’d never leave Oklahoma. It’s my home.”
For some unfathomable reason, hope expanded like a balloon in Meridian’s chest. She couldn’t help but grin. Oklahoma might not have wealthy whiskey families rolling in liquid money and a bourbon district, but it had wide open spaces where you could exist without judgment.
Beaumont gave Jack a consolatory pat on his shoulder. “Ah, never say never, son. Blue blood runs deep.”
A few other people came up to greet them, and by the fourth conversation of a similar nature, Jack’s mouth was drawn in a hard line and restlessness brewed heavy in his eyes. “Want to go get some fresh air?” She gestured to a set of French doors that led to the side of the wraparound porch from what appeared to be the library.
“That won’t be far enough away to breathe, but it’s a start.” They slipped out while Rosalind was opening the front door for more guests.
Meridian guided them to the end of the porch as far away as she could get them from any onlookers.
Jack squeezed his eyes shut before downing the rest of the cocktail. “They’re delusional,” finally grumbled from him. “They’ve had me cast as a role in their head since I was born. Any time I’ve ever done something that didn’t match the person they decided I should be, it’s obviously just because I’m confused or being led astray.” He offered her an apologetic glance as the sun sank low behind the fancy garden sheds. “It couldn’t possibly be them. They never even fathomed that maybe I’m the one that woke up and figured out that this world they keep is nothing more than a house of cards all built on lies. If one card slips, it all falls.”
“I’m sorry.” Meridian stood steadfastly beside him. “I kind of know what that’s like. It kills me that they do this to you.”
Jack shook his head. “I appreciate the sentiment, but no you don’t. Your family is happy for you to be you.”
“Sometimes. But I’m a woman. Every single pe
rson that I meet immediately places expectations on me. You should try being female in a law school that was predominantly male. Even half of the residents of Holder County have me fitting in a role in their head. They do it to all of my family. Some of them haven’t had a conversation with me since I was six, but they’re certain they know what I’m all about.”
Jack gave her a thoughtful nod. “I guess you do understand.” One of the things she found most intoxicating about him was that he listened to her. Really listened to understand not just to make a rebuttal. “Do you have any advice for me then, cowgirl?”
She gave him a mischievous grin. “My personal favorite is to do something shockingly rebellious. I used to do it more than I do now. I was always trying to get people to see me, the real me, by forcing a conversation where I could prove my intelligence and my worth. But…that doesn’t always work. I did finally figure out that saying fuck ’em all and doing what makes you happy is the best form of rebellion.”
Jack eased the cocktail flute from her hand and set it on the wide porch rail. He wanted—no, he needed—something to replace the Denton whiskey on his tongue. The only thing strong enough to erase the bourbon in his blood was standing before him concerned. She was trying to make him feel better. She’d never known him as Palmer Denton’s second son or Barnsley’s grandson. He wasn’t a whiskey baron prince to her. The knowledge that he was all of those things meant nothing to her at all. He was just him.
“Do what makes me happy, huh?” He caged her between his body and the white brick of the estate house.
Her lips parted as she stared up at him expectantly. Her breaths sped, creating a delicious friction between her breasts and his shirt. His hands grasped her hips and pressed her closer still, close enough to let his cock bathe in the seductive heat gathering between her thighs. A quick gasp escaped her lips. He took it all for himself, capturing it and plundering her mouth.