Blackmailed by the Billionaire Brewer (3 page)

“The daddy is out of the picture. It’s just us.”

“Holy…”

“Yeah, it’s not ideal, but family is family. You understand?”

He didn’t. “Yes. I’ll make sure we don’t go out of Passion Creek together unless it’s
by helicopter. Thirty-minute return time. That okay?”

“Thirty minutes to where?”

She should have taken up law or insurance claims. Talk about a need for detail. “Back
to a helipad I have access to twenty-four-seven within a few blocks of your place.”

She looked shocked. “You know where I live?”

“It’s on the resume the agency emailed me. Don’t worry. I haven’t been trawling your
name on the internet. Believe me, I have personal experience of that happening, and
it’s not funny.”

Her eyes widened. “Like what happened?”

“Bad stuff. Seriously, I have stalkers even now. Legal restraint doesn’t seem to make
any difference to some of these nutcases.”

“Stalkers. How scary is that?”

“All it took was one article in
Vanity Fair
. I was naive. I’m not anymore.”

“What do they want? Why do they do it?”

He laughed. “Being on
Forbes’
most eligible and stinking-rich bachelor list might have something to do with it.”

“Jeez, you must have come up front and personal with a lot of silicone.”

“And Botox, but I prefer people to be real.” He looked out the window toward the backyard
where a beer truck loaded with barrels was reversing, and then turned his attention
back to her. “So how about a cocktail with me since I haven’t converted you to beer
yet? Maybe a few, then dinner. Around seven o’clock?”

The color rose in her face. “I can’t tonight, it’s too short notice.”

“Of course, no problem. Do you have a current boyfriend in town? I never asked, but
assumed since what happened in Florida…”

“No, no current boyfriend. Not since Christmas Eve.”

Not since Christmas Eve? Nasty of whichever one of them did the dumping, but none
of his business. “So if tonight’s out, we’ll do lunch instead. Now. During the time
you’d been planning on working on a pile of really boring spreadsheets with a sweaty
peanut butter sandwich at your desk.”

“Are you really suggesting cocktails halfway through the work day?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t too worried about daytime drinking in Sanibel.
There’s no need for either of us to come back to the office today. Are you driving?”

“No, I’m not driving, but I’m not on vacation anymore, either.”

“Piper, the next few weeks are going to be more of a vacation than you’ve ever had
if you can relax and go with the flow. Seriously, add holistic massage to the list
of your allowable expenses. You seem to need it.” He watched her face as she appeared
to consider his suggestion. There were dark circles under her eyes; she could probably
do with some pampering. He guessed things hadn’t been too easy for her. “What’s your
favorite restaurant?”

“The Loft is, but—”

“Great. I’ll take you there and buy you anything you want. I feel like celebrating.”

She smiled nervously and then the tension in her face seemed to melt. At last. “Okay,
the Loft for lunch, then. I’ll have the rib eye steak with shrimp, a side of onion
rings, and the best Cabernet Sauvignon they have.”

“Cabernet, hmmm?”

“Merlot is so passé.”

“Do you want some nuts with that?”

“Olives, the imported ones hand-stuffed with garlic by nuns.”

He picked up his jacket and slid it back on. “In that case, I’ll have the biggest
lobster in town. With melted garlic butter.”

Her smile became a grin. “And I thought you could live on peanuts and potato chips,
Mr. DeLeo.”

“I can. And beer. It’s nutritious. In fact, I’m thinking of devising a diet based
on it. Write a book, develop an app, maybe design some ultra-cool merchandise.”

She tilted her head to one side. “The tragic thing is that I can see you actually
doing that.”

Chapter Three

Piper’s cheeks tingled as the cold air outside the brewery office building hit her
full on. Matt DeLeo was no more than a foot behind her—she could feel his heat in
the cool Colorado air, she would swear to it.

“Which way from here?” she murmured. “Are we walking?”

“Why not?” His voice was deep and calm, such a contrast to how she felt. “We can be
there in about five minutes. Or I can get us a car.”

She turned to face him. “I can walk five minutes to the Loft if that’s where you want
to go.”

“I’ve never been there, but if it’s your favorite, that’s good enough for me.”

“It’s great, but—”

“Then let’s get there because my stomach is going to be making really bad noises soon.”

Piper wanted to say she was scared her buddies would spot her, that the bartender
would be indiscreet, and that her best haunt was about to be sullied forever. She
hadn’t thought about that when she’d blurted out that the Loft was her favorite place.
“Okay, but don’t embarrass me. I’m a regular.”

“Now why would I do that?”

The way he said that made her even more fearful. She couldn’t trust him after he’d
threatened to put her panties up behind the bar of the Railway Tavern, could she?
She made a snap decision to lie for everyone’s benefit. “And to be honest, I’ve heard
the chef’s not so hot on seafood.”

“Really?”

“I’ve never actually had the lobster myself, but the last time I was there, I did
hear someone complaining.”

“Would you like to go somewhere else?”

She held in the sigh of relief. “I think it would be best. Perhaps Fernando’s?” She’d
never set foot in the place because it was so expensive, but if Matt wanted to play
this game to the max, she could get a nice meal out of it. “Although I hear they have
a waiting list for tables as long as your arm.”

“They’ll fit us in,” he said confidently. “But it’s not close by and it’s freezing
out here. Let’s have a drink somewhere while we wait for a car and I give Fernando’s
a call.” He gestured to a red and yellow awning a few yards ahead. “Tapas bar, perfect.”

The heavy wood and glass door swung closed behind them and the warm air scented with
garlic, chorizo, and sherry was heavenly in contrast with the gray chill outside.
“I must do Spain one day,” Piper mused. “So colorful and vibrant.”

“And warm.” Matt pulled out a tall wooden stool at the bar for her. “Although Seville
in July can be a challenge.”

“You’ve been there?”

“I’ve been a whole lot of places, the upside of having an itinerant and pretty much
wasted youth before I got stuck in an office. And then a regular paycheck made last-minute
cheap flights during vacation time irresistible.”

“Lucky you.” Sometimes Piper wished she hadn’t always been so square and reliable,
Sanibel excluded—that was a crazy blip. “Sounds like fun.”

He stared for a moment at the arch-shaped wooden wine rack behind the bar. Could it
be that he was suddenly feeling wistful? Piper knew damn well she would be. Leaving
the Atlantic Coast and its soft white sand had been bad enough.

“What would you like to drink?”

Her head was still thick from lack of sleep, but what the hell. “Whatever you’re having,
as long as it’s not beer.”

He smiled at the bartender and gestured that he wanted to order. “Two large Tempranillos,
por favor
.”

The bartender grinned back. “Want any tapas with that, mate?”

Matt nodded. “Yeah, a couple of small ones, whatever’s best today.”

They watched as the young guy poured rich, ruby-colored liquid into the glass bowls
of two tall wine goblets. “It’s nice here,” Piper said. “Why don’t we stay here and
eat instead of trekking across town?”

Matt shrugged. “Not sure they do big meals like steak and shrimp, just the tapas.
I can ask about the Cabernet.”

“I’m fine with the cute little dishes.” She closed her eyes and took a sip of the
wine, tiny beaded bubbles still spinning on the surface from being poured. “This red
wine is good. Is your cold executive heart set on lobster?”

“I’ll live without the crustacean. In that case, let’s sit somewhere more comfortable.”
He pointed to a small table set into an alcove. “Grab that one and I’ll get our server
to bulk up our order.”

Piper panicked slightly in the minute it took Matt to upgrade their order and she
sat fiddling with a coaster while she waited for him. Conversation had flowed effortlessly
between them in Florida and it hadn’t just been because of the alcohol. However, this
was a very different feeling situation. Her best bet was to keep this as business-like
as possible, to remain neutral and professional, however companions or
girlfriends of convenience
managed to do that. When he sat down she forced a smile, looked away, and took a sip
of her wine before speaking.

“I’ve been thinking about this big plan of yours.” She stabbed a cocktail stick at
one of the stuffed olives the waiter had put down with their drinks. Garlic-stuffed,
too. “Won’t your staff think it’s odd that the temp who screwed up the entire payment
run is now suddenly your girlfriend and poster girl?”

“Nope. I’ll mention to Super discreetly that my new squeeze wanted to know what it
was like to have a nine-to-five job instead of living off her daddy’s allowance. And
now that she knows what real work is like, she doesn’t like it too much, but she likes
dressing up and having her picture taken.”

“That makes me look like a spoiled brat!”

He shrugged. “Does it matter? Being on my arm and having me metaphorically kissing
your tiny feet will mean most of womankind will hate you anyway.”

“So modest.” Her toes tingled at the thought of him kissing them. Perhaps he’d done
that to her already, but she couldn’t be exactly sure.

“It’s an observed fact, and that’s why I avoid long-term relationships. It’s just
not fair on them.”

“Them?” Talk about an inflated ego. “The female masses?”

“No, the poor woman who thinks she’s found Mr. Right, but is sadly deluded because
I’m a Grade A shit.” He shot her a chilling look. “Just so we’re clear.”

“There’s no such person as Mr. Right in Passion Creek.”

There might have been in Sanibel, though, if he hadn’t been such a drifter…

She shuddered for a split second, thinking she’d spoken those words aloud. Was she
insane? The drifter bum version of Matt DeLeo was the most unsuitable potential life
partner she’d ever encountered, apart from her abysmal ex, of course. And Matt DeLeo
the super-wealthy brewery boss and genius entrepreneur was equally bad, just in a
more respectable way. Irresponsible and full of himself. She was destined to spend
the rest of her life alone—there was very little doubt about it—and all things considered,
maybe that was for the best.

She needed to keep their relationship on as much of a business footing as possible
or things could get messy. Cold and ruthless was the way forward. “I guess we must
have a schedule of events, appearances, that sort of thing leading up to the big launch
day? When is that? And you said photo shoots. I have no idea what that involves.”
She couldn’t help wrinkling her nose before finishing with, “apart from lots of lovely
pink beer.”

“On that day, I have a huge event at the town hall planned out. The mayor is all for
it, and he’s even agreed to wear a pink PCB-issue vest for the proceedings.”

She couldn’t suppress a little smile after hearing that piece of information. “Yeah,
I can see Mayor Cobbett really going for something that tacky. And alcoholic…”

“He has a lot of contacts and they’ll all be there buying and drinking and being persuaded
to tell their friends. Hopefully, if they drink enough, they’ll also be tempted to
put pressure on their corporate entertainment departments to order with us. If I get
things right, word about PCB being a totally amazing love elixir will go viral. I’m
considering adding a Twitter hashtag to the campaign as well. Get the trendy demographic
interested.”

“Not worried about the Puritans?”

He shook his head. “Advertising and promoting alcohol is still legal and long may
it stay that way. Besides, there’s evidence to suggest responsible drinking is actually
good for you. And, let’s face it, you can go into a store and buy cannabis legally
in Colorado these days. Beer is pretty tame in comparison.”

She raised an eyebrow and he matched her.

“Looks good,” she murmured as the bartender began to unload a stack of tiny dishes
on to the table in front of them.

“Today’s specials.” The bartender grinned. He clearly enjoyed this part of his job.
“Fire-roasted piquillo peppers stuffed with fresh goat cheese and rosemary, seared
sea scallops with crispy jamón, lemon aioli, and flash-fried arugula,
charcuteria, patatas bravas,
and my personal favorite,
carne de cerdo
, ribs with a pineapple brandy sauce served with crispy fried onions.”

“Good grief,” Piper muttered. “Your chef is a genius.”

“I hope you’re hungry,” he said with a laugh and then switched his attention to Matt.
“I’ll be right back with the blood orange sangria you ordered at the bar, sir.”

The warm red wine on her empty stomach was taking hold quickly. She hadn’t had time
for breakfast, but it looked like lunch was going to make up for it. She picked up
a pepper by the stalk, bit into its juicy, salty filling, and savored the tang of
the herby cheese before launching into her best small talk. “I’ve never had lobster,
way too expensive. What’s it like?”

His dark eyebrows lifted. “Like a big shrimp, but chewier, not as sweet. Big, fat
shrimps are nicer in my opinion.”

Piper bit down on a scallop. “So why the ‘I’ll have the lobster’ thing?”

“Because I’d never tasted it before I made it as a somebody. I order it because I
can
.”

“But you prefer shrimp?”

“I prefer burgers, actually. With processed cheese and sweet pickles.”

She stared down at the spread of dishes between them. “Comfort food.”

“I guess.”

“My mom’s roast chicken is the best for that.”

He chewed for a moment, looking at her intently. “My mom isn’t much of a cook.”

“A mom that doesn’t cook the best food ever? Not natural.”

He shrugged. “You said it.”

“I’m sorry, none of my business.”

She suddenly wanted to ask him over to her folks’ for Sunday dinner to show him how
real people lived, normal people who peeled their own potatoes and scrubbed the floor,
but knew her mom would fall for him instantly. He had that little boy lost look about
him when his guard was down, when he was asleep, she remembered that much. Those long,
dark eyelashes… No, her private life was a total no-go area if she wanted to survive
this. Matt DeLeo should remain as secret or at least as low-key as possible. And what
was she doing trying to be nice to this man, anyway? He was blackmailing her, for
God’s sake! The wine must be strong.

She swallowed a spicy slice of potato and then wiped the red sauce off her lips with
a napkin. “I know nothing about you, so the random inappropriate remark is going to
be inevitable. We didn’t get to talk that much in Sanibel. Correction, we did talk,
but it was pretty much nonsense.”

“Did you even want to talk?”

“What do you mean?”

He tapped his fork annoyingly against the edge of a plate. “You seemed more interested
in my tattoos than anything else.”

She was tempted to ask him now why he had chosen the bold swirling ink that seemed
to be inspired by the sea. The vivid strokes of color were still imprinted on her
mind from the night they had spent together in spite of her inebriation. She decided
against asking. “They intrigued me, especially that cute little turtle.”

“Past tense?”

“Everything that was nice and fun and honest seems past tense right now.”

“I guess that has to be my fault? Or is it yours?”

She shrugged. “Must be karma. Or God. Or a Hobbit, who the hell knows.”

“I’m the same as I was a week ago, Piper. We just changed towns, that’s all.”

She shook her head vehemently. “No, no you’re not.”

“Because I have money and a suit and a conservative work ethic? I’m still an opportunistic
scumbag, believe me.”

“Oh, I do believe you.” She put her hand over the top of her glass to stop him from
refilling it with sangria. “I just never imagined you’d turn out to be such an accomplished
opportunist scumbag. Admitting to being an itinerant drifter is one thing, but blackmail
and stealing panties for leverage is quite another. I can see why you’ve been so successful
in business, Matt. You’re selfish, ruthless, and nothing gets in the way of what you
want.”

His jaw dropped for a second and his smile faltered. “But you still love me, right?”

Their eyes locked for longer than she was comfortable with. She’d gone too far by
being so harsh, but it was too late to take it back. “Sorry, that came out a little
stronger than I intended.”

He put down the sangria jug and nodded toward the hand that was still clamped over
her glass. “Maybe you’re right. Things are different now that we’re back in Colorado.
Or you are. Restraint wasn’t in your vocabulary a few days ago.”

It was none of his business, but she was going to put him straight. “A couple of days
ago I had decided to get blind drunk a few thousand miles away from my hometown and
have a one-night stand with a complete stranger. It was a really stupid, immature
thing to do, but I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time and I just wanted to lash out
somehow.”