Crave (8 page)

“I slept fine. Great,” I lied. “Um, thank you for the clothes.”

“You’re welcome. You like them?”

“They’re . . . perfect.” I frown and he does as well. “How did you know my sizes?”

“I took a wild guess.” He said this with a shrug, looking a little sheepish. This of course makes me skeptical. Just goes to show how well Archer knows his way around the female body when he can guess my size accurately.

My gut clenches at the realization.

“Oh.” I’m at a complete loss of words. His explanation makes perfect sense. Our being together makes absolutely no sense. Clearly, we made a huge mistake. And now we’re paying the price with the awkward silences and uncomfortable vibe between us.

“I’ll get my purse and then I’ll be ready.”

“Meet us out front then?” He smiles at me but it’s grim. And it doesn’t quite light up his eyes.

“Yes. Give me just a second.” I nod once, shooting into the bedroom the second he turns away from me.

Going to the bed, I sit on the edge heavily, chewing on my thumbnail as I give myself a mental pep talk.

You can handle this. So you’ve seen him naked. So what? And you know what he looks like when he comes. Big deal. Focus on the old days. When he used to be such a jerk to you and treated you so terribly. Remember how you felt last night at the reception, when he first talked to you and called you “chicken.” Jerk. Yeah, he irritated the crap out of you. Hold on to that feeling. The Archer Bancroft-drives-me-out-of-my-mind-he’s-such-an-asshole feeling.

Forget all about the Archer Bancroft-drives-me-out-of-my-mind-when-he’s-kissing-me-senseless-and-fucking-me-into-oblivion feeling. That is so the wrong feeling to hold on to.

Picking up my purse, which I left on the bed, I stand, tug at the hem of my new, cute T-shirt, smooth a hand over my hair, and decide to go face my reality.

I can handle this. Because really, I don’t have a choice.

Archer

“W
HAT THE HELL
is taking her so long? I’m starved.”

“Grumpy bastard,” I mutter, irritated with Gage’s incessant miserable chatter. He hasn’t quit griping about his empty stomach since the moment I ran into him in the kitchen. I offered him an apple but he wouldn’t take it. Heaven forbid he eats something healthy. And besides, it’s not my fault his sister is taking so long to get ready.

Why, I’m not sure. I saw her no more than five minutes ago, looking absolutely gorgeous in the simple outfit I left for her to change into. I’d been half tempted to grab her by the waist, walk her backward into the bedroom, lock the door, and have my way with her for the rest of the day. Talk about an ideal lazy Sunday.

But I knew Gage was waiting and besides, the panicked expression on her face when she first saw me deflated my ego completely. She looked ready to jump and run.

Did she regret what happened between us last night? I don’t, but I gotta admit, the vibe between us just now was uncomfortable yet hyperaware.

Were we going to pretend it never happened? That was probably best: act like what we shared last night was some sort of weird—and fucking amazing—dream. Acknowledging it the morning after only asked for trouble, especially since Gage was present.

A grumbling, moody Gage. He’s acting like a bear you’d regret poking too hard.

“You need coffee or what? I told you there’s a freshly made pot in the kitchen,” I say, unable to stand his moodiness one second longer.

“Bah.” Gage waves a hand. “I’ve had your coffee before. It’s complete shit.”

I don’t bother reminding him that I had the housekeeper make a fresh pot of coffee every morning. Just one of the many perks of having a lot of money. Gage is still stuck on us being college roommates when I used to make coffee that tasted like black oil sludge.

“Whatever. You’re missing out.” I glance toward the door, standing up straight when it opens, revealing Ivy, who stops on the top step. She’s looking fresh as a damn daisy, her hair still wet from the shower and pulled into a ponytail, showcasing that pretty face of hers. Her eyes sparkle, her cheeks are flushed, and when she catches sight of the both of us standing in front of my Mercedes, a smile curls those sensuous lips. Lips I tasted again and again last night.

Lips I’d like to see curled around my . . .

I frown. Damn it, I really need to stop thinking about her like that.

Her smile fades just as quick as it appeared. Like she caught herself doing it and realized her mistake. Or she noticed my frown.

Hell.

“Finally,” Gage calls out. “Let’s get going before they stop serving brunch.”

“They serve it until two,” I mutter, wishing like crazy Gage wasn’t with us. Of course, if he wasn’t, we wouldn’t be going to Hush either, and I’m excited to show off my baby to Ivy.

“I forgot what a grump you are in the morning until you get some food in your stomach.” She approaches us, her eyes soft when they light on me. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“You’re right on time,” I assure her, because at this very moment she really can do no wrong.

“I call shotgun,” Gage says as he reaches for the passenger-side door handle.

I slap my hand against the door, stopping him from opening it. “Are you so freaking hungry that you lost your mind? Let your sister sit in the front.”

“Why?” Gage sounds boggled. And clueless.

I should be thankful for clueless. If he was feeling a little sharper this morning, he might catch on to the weirdness going on between Ivy and me.

“Stop being such an infant and just sit in the back seat.” I jerk my thumb toward the back of the car.

“I can sit in the back . . .” Ivy starts, but I shake my head, cutting her off.

“Sit in the front.” I say it like a command, which gets those perfectly arched eyebrows of hers rising, and I round the front of the car without another word, sliding behind the steering wheel and starting the car.

I don’t mean to be such a bossy ass but Gage is on my last damn nerve.

She slides into the passenger seat, sitting right beside me, her usual floral scent not as strong. I can only assume that’s because she didn’t use her own products. Shampoo, body wash, perfume . . . I wish I knew exactly what made her smell so good. Perhaps it’s a mixture of everything, plus her own unique scent.

“It’s a beautiful morning,” Ivy says, her head turned away from me, nose practically pressed against the glass of the window. “I wouldn’t be able to get any work done if I had this sort of view distracting me every day.”

I pull out of the driveway, taking in my surroundings, ignoring the snort that emanates from the back seat. I thought I turned into an adolescent when I got near Ivy. Gage was ten times worse, switching to jerk big brother mode within seconds of Ivy making an appearance.

“After living here for so many years, I don’t even notice it,” I say, turning left and heading toward Hush. The resort is not far from my house, so the drive is easy. Beautiful.

Definitely beautiful, not that I’d noticed it much. Too distracted with work, too distracted with the business opportunity that suddenly came up. Thankfully, it’s an opportunity that will keep me in Napa Valley, but I know my father worries it might be a mistake, working on a new venture so close to the already successful Hush resort. Why mess with a good thing, is basically what he told me.

Not for the first time in our lives, I completely disagree with him. I know what I’m doing. So I screwed around in college and didn’t get the best grades—so what? I might’ve spent more time chasing women and going to parties versus studying and actually attending classes, but guess what? I got my education in the real world. Growing up in the Bancroft Hotels gave me the hands-on experience and vision needed to take the company to the next level.

Too bad my father didn’t realize it.

“Do you miss the city?” Ivy asks, knocking me from my thoughts.

I glance over to find her studying me. “Sometimes. Not that it’s far, but I haven’t had much time lately to make it over. Not as if I want to visit my parents . . . I like the pace here, though. It’s a little slower. More reflective.”

“Are you trying to say you’re reflective?” Gage pipes up from the back seat. “Give me a break.”

I press my lips together to keep from calling Gage an insensitive prick.

“Ignore him,” Ivy whispers, reaching over to pat my thigh. “He’s just jealous.”

“Yeah, right,” Gage laughs, but I don’t reply.

I’m too caught up in the fact that she touched my thigh, and just like that I’m sporting a hard-on. A full-blown one too, all from a light touch of her fingers on my leg.

This is . . . bad. If I can barely handle her touching me on the leg for a brief second, then I need to get her out of my life pronto.

Or pull her so deeply into my life there’s no way she’d ever want to leave my side again.

Keep dreaming, asshole.

Funny how the nagging voice inside my head sounds just like Gage.

Chapter Seven

Ivy

T
HE RESORT IS
gorgeous. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been to more than a few exclusive spas and resorts in my life. My mom loves to indulge in spas and she’s taken me on many a “girls only” trip the last few years. She’s all about the detox.

But the Hush Resort is more than just a simple spa. And it’s definitely more than a hotel too. From what I can see since Archer’s taken us on a tour of the lush grounds, it’s all about promoting a lifestyle.

Indulgence. Decadence. Sex. That’s the message Hush is sending me, albeit in a sophisticated, understated package. I noticed from the moment we were seated in the small on-premise restaurant we’re surrounded by couples. Young, old, middle-aged, every one of them is so in tune with each other, so focused and seemingly happy, I can’t help but admire each and every one of them.

And also feel a little jealous.

I sat with two men, the lone oddity in the entire restaurant. One is my jerk of a brother who can’t quite stop giving Archer grief while stuffing his face. I have no idea what’s gotten into Gage but it isn’t a pleasant sight.

Then there’s Archer, who’s been quiet since we arrived. He seems almost . . . nervous, and I’ve never seen Archer nervous. Of course, I’d never seen Archer naked either, but I sure remedied that last night now, didn’t I?

I feel like I’m seeing all the bits and pieces that make him up. It’s rather fascinating, though I tell myself I most definitely should not be fascinated. What happened between us was a mistake. Why I can’t seem to remember that, I’m not exactly sure.

Hormonal issues maybe? Yes, that must be it.

After breakfast, he takes us for a tour, showing us the gorgeously landscaped grounds with what seems like miles of lush green grass spread around the facility. The rolling hills that surround the hotel location are dotted with the vineyards’ neat rows and my eyes are constantly drawn to their simple, efficient beauty. The day is crisp and clear, the sky a startling blue, the sun warm on my skin, and I glance around in utter amazement, overwhelmed with all the natural beauty that’s surrounding me.

“You like it?” Archer asks, sounding eager.

“I do.” I smile up at him, unable to contain it. I don’t want to give him any wrong ideas, but wow, I’m blown away with his resort. “The location is unreal.”

“My father bought the property years ago, before I was even born,” Archer explains, his gaze going to the vineyards, just like mine does. “The old Bancroft Hotel in Napa that’s not too far slowly turned into a complete loser, a financial drain. Couldn’t turn a profit, was considered in a less-than-ideal location.”

“I’m surprised,” I say, interrupting him. He turns to look at me, his eyebrows raised, and I shrug. “Just the beauty of the location alone is breathtaking. And you haven’t taken us inside any of the buildings yet besides the restaurant. I’m sure I’ll become even more impressed.”

Gage wanders off, seemingly bored with the conversation, but I’m sure he’s heard it all before. Funny, how Archer and I have never spent any sort of time alone together like this. Until now.

“Well, I had the original hotel building razed when my father sent me out here. I started over completely from scratch. And when I say it wasn’t an ideal location, it’s because so many other hotels were built in another, much more populated area. This one was considered out of the way.” He slips his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, looking so gorgeous as the breeze ruffles his dark hair I want to lunge at him. Grab hold and never let go.

I keep myself in check instead.

“You’ve done an amazing job,” I say softly. “You must be proud.”

“Yeah, I am.” He smiles, his eyes warm. “It wasn’t easy. My father sent me out here to fail.”

I frown. “He did?”

“Of course he did. He had no faith in me. I was a world-class screwup, I’ll admit it. I didn’t want to work, not directly for him, at least. So he said since I thought I knew what the hell I was doing, he’d give me this.” Archer’s smile turned rueful. “I showed him, didn’t I?”

“How long ago was that?” I knew his relationship with his father wasn’t the best, but to send his son out to purposely fail with a bad location? Awful.

“Over three years ago. Construction took a solid ten months to a year and we opened when only a few buildings were completed, expanding as each one was finished. Hush made Bancroft a lot of money in the first six months it was open.” He studies the vineyards in the near distance, his expression serious, not the usual smiling, charming Archer.

My heart aches for him, no matter how much I tell it to stop.

I’m impressed with his success story. I remember how it was when we were younger. His dad constantly disappointed in him. His mother never around, or always drunk and crying over the way her husband treated her. No wonder Archer spent all of his time at our house when he and Gage became such good friends. My parents weren’t perfect, but at least they get along for the most part and they have a relatively normal relationship.

No drunken yelling or icy-cold neglect.

“Such a great story,” I say, wincing the moment the words fall from my lips. More like such a lame comment for a truly amazing accomplishment.