by Jillian Neal
Meridian’s hands wound under his jacket and clawed at his back as an electrical current of need arced between them. Her hips bucked, and the stuttered moan said his cock had hit just the right spot. He allowed her breath and trailed needy bites down her neck. Her instructions to fuck ’em all echoed in his head as he clasped one hand over her right breast. “There is only one person I want to fuck, honey, and it sure as hell isn’t anyone inside that house.” Her nipple was a tight bead against his palm. The thin silk between them a terrible protector of her obvious arousal. Determination that he would not only protect her desires but also surrender to them surged through his veins.
He stole her next moan as well, letting it feed the starving beast housed in his soul. The beast always fought for what it knew was right, for his brother, for justice, for truth…for her.
It had never before been sated. But a hint of satisfaction filled him every single time she was in his arms. On her next slow grind against him, he clasped his hand on her ass and squeezed. A low, hungry growl worked up from his groin and filled her mouth. Continued proof that she was bare under the dress went to war with his desperation to claim and protect her. It robbed him of any other option than to give in to the reckless desire to mark her as his own and keep her from the vultures that tore at his skin every single time he was home.
He longed to put her back on that ridiculous plane, take her back to Holder Ranch, and live in bed with her exchanging sexual favors for sustenance. God, he wanted to hear her beg for him and only him.
“Jack,” slipped from her lips as his hands gripped harder and he began to punish her neck with his lips.
His half-moaned name had him surging against her body again. His cock was so hard he’d ache for hours even after he was finally spent. “That’s right, baby. Say it. Tell them all who makes you so wet you drip.” He wanted to rent a motherfucking billboard to let the world know he owned every shivered quake, every needy moan, every single clench of her climaxes.
“There,” hung on a breath as she rocked against him. “Right there. God…Jack…mmm.”
“That’s it. Take it from me, honey. Ruin this fucking dress with what I draw from you. I’ll clean you up with my tongue.” Her breath quivered on a frantic groan. “I should put you on your knees, fuck those beautiful lips until they’re so swollen no one doubts what I did to you.” A storm of need lit in her eyes at his threat.
He sank his mouth back to hers with greed. Their tongues tangled for dominance that he took or perhaps that she let him have. It didn’t matter. The only thing he needed was to be inside of her.
A rather loud clearing of another male throat took several seconds too long for Jack to really hear. It was subverted by the need that currently dominated his mind. Thankfully Meridian was more aware than Jack at the moment, it seemed. Her head jerked back from his and her right leg slipped down his left so she could regain her footing. A lightning bolt of panic crackled through her gaze.
That was all he needed for the protector housed deep in his soul to banish the beast for the moment. Jack turned and physically blocked her from their interlopers with his body. He spoke before he really took in the situation, not something he typically did. “What the hell do you want?”
His father and older brother, Greer, had juxtaposed expressions. His father blinked rapidly as if to make what he’d just seen come into better focus or perhaps to erase it altogether, but a goading grin formed rapidly on his brother’s features.
Greer ran his hand over his mouth as if that might wipe away the delight. “Uh,”—he cleared his throat again—“Mom’s looking for you and so is Tiffany.”
Jack could not think of two women he wanted to see less. “Patience is something both of them could stand to learn.”
Meridian stepped around Jack and extended her hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Meridian Holder.” Her hair was tangled from his grip, and the dress was wrinkled. She strategically kept one arm placed awkwardly across her chest in a failed attempt to erase the arousal from her nipples. Her lips bore marks of his aggression as well, and Jack wished he could find an ounce of shame, but he couldn’t.
His father narrowed his eyes at Jack as he accepted Meridian’s hand. “My son seems to have forgotten all sense of propriety, but might I remind both of you whose land you are currently standing on.”
Meridian’s smile faded into annoyance, like a sunset that turns to a vicious storm. “How could we forget?” She gestured to the Denton Distillery logo landscaped in hedges and flowers on the nearby grounds.
Standing up to his father wasn’t something many were willing to do. If Jack wasn’t extraordinarily careful, he was going to end up falling for her.
“Your mother put a great deal of effort into this event to welcome you home, Jackson. Don’t leave your guests waiting.”
“We’ll join you momentarily,” Jack decreed.
This did nothing to appease his father, which Jack saw as a bonus.
Placing his hand on his father’s shoulder, Greer guided them back toward the house. “Let’s just give them a minute.”
Chapter Nineteen
Scalded with irritation and still a little dizzy from having Jack’s attention ripped from her palms, Meridian tried to smooth the silk dress and her hair.
“I’m sorry.” Jack’s fingertips traced along her bare shoulders as he expertly coaxed her into his arms. “Are you all right?”
“Do you think your affections are so intoxicating I can’t make a quick recovery, Denton?” She tried to tease but missed the mark.
He gave her an obligatory chuckle anyway. “I can hope, can’t I?”
“I suppose we were being rude.”
“I hate asking you to play by a rulebook they’ve created in their minds.”
Meridian lifted her head. “I’d say it’s a fairly safe bet that Emily Post frowns on what we were doing in the middle of a dinner party. It’s not just your parents.”
“I like it better when you’re not defending them.”
Pleased at that, she gestured her head back toward the party. “Let’s get this over with.”
Jack secured her hand on his arm and guided her inside. A swarm of servants with trays of drinks were still moving between the many rooms of the downstairs that contained guests. However, the guests themselves had all stopped chitchatting. Their words were vacuumed from the air as they tried to discreetly observe Meridian and Jack.
Several people made their way toward them. Fake smiles and disdain-filled eyes swam before her. She tightened her hold on Jack who gently patted the hand he had in the crook of his arm.
“Jackson…” A blonde, dressed impeccably in some kind of designer dress Meridian was certain she’d never heard of, beelined ahead of the approaching partygoers. “Now, you just have to introduce me.” She attacked Jack, landing both of her hands on his face so she could plaster his cheek with pink lipstick. “We are all just dying to hear all about…what did you say your name was, honey?”
“I didn’t,” Meridian sniped, “but I’m Meridian Holder.”
Jack was busy scrubbing his cheek with his fingertips. His jaw cocked to the side. “Tiffany, congratulations to both you and Brenton. I’m sure you’ll make each other very happy.”
Meridian was fairly certain she was the only one aware that he’d just insulted the two of them.
Tiffany’s diamond-drop earrings bobbed with the force of her nod. “Brent’s just a doll, really. Honestly, Meridian, I do not know how you put up with Jackson. Doesn’t he drive you crazy?”
Meridian exchanged a quick glance with Jack. “He does drive me crazy in all of the best ways.” Check.
Jack played his role perfectly as a cocky smirk formed on his features. He painted a tender kiss on Meridian’s cheek. “That’s my job, isn’t it, sweetheart?” Checkmate.
An unmistakable flare of jealousy burned away the false charm Tiffany had obviously worked to maintain in her gaze. She glanced around the room, and in a few quick
moves dragged a man, dressed similarly to Jack, back to their forced conversation. “Meridian, this is Brenton Cox, my fiancé.”
Brenton gave a hesitant nod to them both. “Jack, how are you?”
“I’m great.” Jack extended his hand. “Congrats on the upcoming nuptials.”
“Yeah.” Brenton didn’t sound too confident in the plans for his life. “You too.”
It was astonishing to Meridian just how quickly news of their impromptu engagement had spread through the crowd. Jack’s mother was quite the gossip.
“I wish you the best of luck.” Jack continued to hammer the nail into the coffin, something Meridian rather liked.
“Yeah. I might need it. Hey, you’re okay with me and Tiff,”—he paused and gestured to the fuming woman at his side, regarding her like a detonated bomb—“right? No bad blood or whatever?”
Jack laughed at him outright. “None at all, my good man. None at all.” He wrapped his arm around Meridian’s shoulders and pulled her close. “I wish you only happiness, and I mean that sincerely. I hope you two are as happy as we are.”
“Yeah, me too.” Brenton didn’t sound like he believed that would be the case. Meridian actually felt sorry for them.
When Tiff guided him back to the flock of females in the corner and began whispering heatedly, Meridian laid her head on Jack’s shoulder. “So, what’s the arrangement there?”
Speaking so only she had any hopes of hearing him, he explained, “Tiffany’s parents are Marcus Fitzgerald and Elise Whitney. Their pairing is legendary among the baron families of Bourbon Country. When they married decades ago, their families joined forces. They are now the owners of the lion share of Fitzgerald Whitney, which is one of the largest beverage wholesalers in the US. Brent’s family owns an entire network of boutique consulting firms that serve families like mine and Tiff’s. They handle high-end PR, advise on investments, tax shields, vacation homes, gardeners, everything. The marriage would mean that the Fitzgerald Whitney family has access to that network for free.”
Meridian nodded. “But that isn’t nearly as valuable as a marriage merger between a Denton son and the country’s largest beverage wholesaler’s family. No wonder your parents were so pissed you called off the wedding.”
“Since love beyond the love of money is a foreign concept to my parents, it’s not really that surprising. Thank you again for putting up with this. It means a lot to me.”
Meridian let those words trickle from her ears to her heart, soothing the pricks of intimidation. “You definitely owe me.”
He winked at her. “I am but your faithful servant, darling. I’d be remiss if I didn’t remind you that I happen to excel in sexual favors.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Two little girls with hair bows larger than their faces zipped by them, heading toward the front porch. They had crayons and coloring books clutched in their hands. Meridian just caught the cover of one of the books as they passed. “Are those seriously…?”
“Denton family coloring books?” Jack filled in for her. “Yep. They started those after my departure. They told themselves that me leaving must’ve been a result of not properly indoctrinating me in the ways of the bourbon dynasties.”
“Wow.”
“Welcome to my world.”
“I’m really sorry.” Meridian turned to stare at him. She wanted him to understand that she genuinely was devastated for him.
“Me too.” His attention was diverted almost immediately by two men who were apparently in the middle of some kind of joke when they arrived.
“Jackson, settle a bet between us.” His goading tone made Meridian instantly hate him. “About how many cow-tippers would you say you prosecute a week out in wherever the hell you’re living now?” They both guffawed as if that was the most hilarious thing anyone had ever said.
Meridian opened her mouth to make a comeback—something along the lines of subtracting the number of women they’d slept with from their IQ resulting in a negative number—but Jack shook his head ever so slightly.
“It really is the ideal job. I spend more time on the golf course than I ever got to working for Denton Distilleries,” he informed them.
Oddly, that worked. Their laughter ended abruptly. Meridian was impressed with how Jack handled them. There wasn’t a golf course within sixty miles of Holder County, but he’d lied with ease.
One of the men let a low whistle slide between his perfect teeth. “Damn. Maybe we should look into cattle towns. I can’t seem to get out of the office here.”
“If you’ll excuse us.” Jack guided Meridian away from Moe and Curly.
“That was impressive,” she whispered.
“Nothing more appealing to the obnoxiously wealthy than making money while you do absolutely nothing to contribute to the world.”
“I feel like I’m in some very bizarre episode of The Twilight Zone.”
“It’s not likely to get better until after dessert. The men will adjourn downstairs to the billiard room, and the ladies will flock after my mother for drinks in the lounge. Then we can escape both.”
“Now, I think I might’ve somehow fallen into a game of Clue. Should I keep my eyes on all the candlesticks?”
Jack gave her a grin that melted a little of the disdain forming rapidly in her stomach. “In this house, you’re far more likely to be killed from the dagger in your back than the candlestick in the drawing room, Miss Scarlet.”
Beverly Denton whisked into the room bearing the largest of the fake smiles Meridian had yet witnessed. “Appetizers are being served in the dining room. Everyone find your seat.” She made her announcement with a practiced sense of ease, but her eyes betrayed her. Had Meridian not been such an excellent reader of people, she might not have noticed that Jack’s mother looked frightened.
Chapter Twenty
The air was thick with cocktail-laced tension as Jack guided Meridian into the dining room. He tried to imagine what it must look like to her. When her extensive family gathered to dine together, they pulled out folding tables and chairs and ate burgers and steak in her mother’s backyard. He had no idea what Meridian would do if she compared the honest, eclectic appeal of her ranch to the pretentiousness of his mother’s dining room complete with not one but two Queen Anne butterfly extended tables that each sat twenty-four. Jack certainly wouldn’t blame her for demanding to go home.
He also hadn’t quite figured out his mother’s game this evening, and that concerned him more than anything. Was this ridiculous party meant to show him everything he was missing by flouting their money, what he could have if he’d just keep his mouth shut and look the other way on all their wrongdoings? Or was this meant to intimidate him with their prestige and power, as if he’d forgotten it all? Was he to play the role of potential prodigal son, or was he the fatted calf?
His mother had certainly pulled out every stop. The best linens, the silver platters and chafing dishes, and his great-grandmother’s Wedgewood graced the tables. He ground his teeth.
His father directed them to take seats near his parents and brother. His parents’ closest friends, J.D. and Ellen Hirsch, took the seats opposite Jack and Meridian. So, he was the fatted calf apparently.
As trays of pickled shrimp cups, mushroom crostini, and bourbon-bacon-wrapped dates with chèvre were passed around, his mother turned her coveted attention on Meridian, meaning everyone at the table looked her way as well. “Meridian, I don’t feel like we know anything about you at all, and now you and Jack are getting married. Do you two intend to hold the ceremony here at River Chase or perhaps at the club? That would be most ideal.”
Refusing to show even a flicker of doubt, Jack shook his head. “No,” they both answered simultaneously.
Meridian grinned at him just the way young lovers would. “We’re getting married on my family’s ranch. I’ve always wanted to get married there.”
Beverly nodded. “I see. And where did you say you went to school, dear? Jack’s neve
r mentioned it.”
“I did my undergraduate work at Case Western and got my law degree from Northwestern.”
Jack gently placed his arm over the back of Meridian’s chair. “She’s being modest. She graduated top of her class and received the Global Legal Profession Award for significant contributions to the field of law. Northwestern had no idea what they had on their hands when she arrived and blew every other student out of Lake Michigan.”
A subtle note of shock glimmered in Meridian’s eyes as she gave him a tender smile—one she’d never given him before, one that held vulnerability at its depths, one he wanted to earn a thousand more of before they went home. Did she really not think he paid attention to the degrees and awards hung behind her desk, to the depths of her intelligence and professionalism? Did she think he somehow missed every perfectly executed case along with every soft sway of her hips and tight purse of her lips?
Jack’s father tried to pretend he wasn’t impressed. “Well, I’m certain all of those accolades must be beneficial to your family’s cows in some way.” Before Meridian could skewer him on a cocktail pick, he turned to J.D. “Had any luck with the barrel tagging at your new outfit?”
J.D. wiped the remnant bacon grease from his mouth and grimaced. “We’re getting pushback from the older employees. They don’t understand the RFID tags any more than they understand that I lose hundreds of dollars in taxes on every missing gallon in a lost barrel.”
Jack’s father gave a bereaved nod. “We’re having similar issues. My employees don’t seem to understand that we have six and a half million barrels aged, and I need to know where they are at all times.”
“If they like being paid, you do, anyway.” J.D. lifted a glass of bourbon punch to Palmer.