Her Tycoon to Tame (8 page)

“Not that it's any of your business, but no. However, at the time, everyone thought I'd eventually be the owner of Sutherland Farm, which I once believed to be priceless.” She shifted in her seat. “Please eat before it gets cold. Nellie managed to teach me a few kitchen tricks. I'm not in her league, although it's safe to say I
probably
won't poison you.”

Her teasing smile blindsided him, and an odd feeling invaded his stomach.

Hunger. For food. Nothing more.

But he couldn't deny that despite everything he knew about Hannah, she had somehow managed to derail his usual detachment. She cut a piece of meat, swirled it in the peach salsa and lifted it to her mouth. The sheer eroticism of her lips slowly and deliberately closing around the flatware sent another unwelcome bout of lust rolling over him like a runaway whiskey barrel.

Imagining the slide of the sterling silver tines across her tongue and lips sent his blood sluicing through his veins. He envied that fork, and, as ill-advised and illogical as it might be, the sample he'd had of her mouth had left him craving something more substantial. He wanted to know her taste and texture, and that desire had acted like a parasite gnawing away at him even when he'd been out of town working at the distillery.

What had she done to him? He'd never had a woman get between him and business before. He had to get back on track and out of dangerous territory. Her property was the only reason he'd accepted her invitation tonight.

“Have you considered my offer?”

“I won't deny I've thought about it.”

“And?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Could we save business for later? I'd prefer not to ruin a good meal. Besides, this is practice for you. Remember? I told you that you had a lot to learn about this business? We wine and dine our clients before closing the big deals. It's a courtesy to let them eat in peace before twisting the thumbscrews during after-dinner coffee.”

“Are you skilled at twisting the screws?”

“Let's just say my father made sure I knew my role.”

He didn't need anyone telling him how to run his business, but he'd abide by her rules—this time—only because he wanted her guard down. He took out his frustration on a piece of pork, pulverizing the tender morsel between his molars.

Candlelight glimmered on Hannah's hair and turned her skin luminescent. Her perfume teased his senses and raised his blood pressure. He needed a distraction.

“What's the status on the new mare?”

“She's coming along. You should stop by and see her. After days of getting nowhere, Sa—we made progress today. But if you're asking whether I'm going to euthanize her, then the answer is no. All of the tests have come back negative. Other than the superficial wounds, she's healthy.”

Her lips curved around the rim of the wineglass and he found it hard to swallow. Those secret smiles of hers were something else. He found himself wanting to probe the cause. This crazy obsession with Hannah Sutherland was an aggravation he didn't need. A temporary aberration.

How had she managed to hijack his concentration? She wasn't the most beautiful woman he'd ever met, wasn't the sexiest and certainly wasn't the most amenable. In fact, she might be the most argumentative. Regardless, something about her had snagged his attention.

Something besides a piece of property that put a doughnut hole in his land and devalued the farm. Something besides her faux Miss Goody Two-shoes attitude. He just couldn't put his finger on what it was about her that didn't add up. Yet. But he would.

His rampant hormones couldn't be anything more than a natural response to prolonged abstinence. He'd had a rough few months since his realization that Sam was a danger to himself. The subsequent frantic search for doctors who had provided frustratingly few answers had led to the decision to take responsibility for Sam and the breakup with Lana. Add in the preparation for launching the new ad campaign as well as the property search and Wyatt hadn't had any time for even the most casual encounters.

He was paying for that now with inappropriate thoughts about an employee. But soon she'd be out of the picture and life would return to normal. The sooner, the better.

“Have you looked at any properties?”

“It's only been a few days since you issued your ultimatum. I haven't had time.”

Frustrated, he swirled his wine in his glass and inhaled, trying to appreciate the tart green-apple bouquet. Trying and failing. “Do you collect antiques?”

She followed his glance around the room. “Not intentionally. My grandparents started their marriage with what they called hand-me-downs from their families. When they could afford to add pieces they scavenged yard sales—yard sales they often took me to—for items that matched what they already had. This was all here when I moved in after vet school.”

“The contents belong to you?” Tens of thousands of dollars worth of furniture—he could thank his greedy mother for his ability to assess value.

She nodded. “I guess you could say the furniture—like this farm—is my family history.”

“You can't be ignorant of the value.”

She frowned. “I've never thought about it other than the sentimental value.”

He didn't believe that for a second. “And the BMW? Did you inherit that, too?”

She stiffened. “Where are you going with this, Wyatt?”

“You live beyond your salary.”

“You're determined to think the worst of me, aren't you? The car was a gift from my father, a reward for a record-breaking year last year. It's totally impractical, but I won't deny it's fun to drive.

“It's a long commute to your distillery from here. Too far to drive every day. Why buy a place so far from work? There are beautiful properties closer to Asheville.”

She'd done her research. But his reasons for his purchase were none of her business. “I've told you before. The property suited my needs.”

“Your sudden burning need to own a horse farm? Neither the staff nor I are buying that since you have nothing to do with the horses. You haven't finished your tour and you never visit the barns.”

“Sutherland Farm has a competent management team. Would you prefer I become more active in the day-to-day operation?”

“No. As you said, the staff knows what they're doing.”

He pushed his empty plate aside and leaned back in his chair. “What is this evening really about, Hannah?”

Annoyance flashed across her face. She slid away from the table and rose. “You really fail at this setting-the-mood thing. Bring your wine to the living room. I have something to show you.”

Setting the mood for what?

Leaving his wine behind because he needed a clear head around her, he followed her to the den, arriving in time to see her bend over the coffee table. The action made her shirt gape, revealing a tempting glimpse of her pale breasts and the white lacy edge of her bra. Wyatt acknowledged his appreciation even while he admitted the move was probably calculated to entice his cooperation.

She sank onto the sofa and her skirt slid up her bare thighs. No stockings concealed her smooth, creamy flesh. She pulled a thick book onto her lap then patted the cushion beside her. “Sit. Please.”

The determination in her eyes didn't fit the capitulation he'd expected from her. “Are you going to sell me your land?”

Her eyebrows arched upward. “Your impatience is showing again. You're going to have to improve on that before we have international visitors. They'll be offended by your get-to-the-point methods. Try a little finesse. Ease into the discussions. But to answer your question, no, I haven't decided to sell. I'm still exploring my options.”

“If you're hoping for a better deal you won't get one. The price I offered is more than generous, and you can't sell the property to anyone else without giving me an opportunity to match their bid.”

“I'm not planning to sell to someone else.”

“Then why am I here, Hannah?”

She gave him a patient look. “I'm getting to that.”

Gritting his teeth in irritation, he decided to let her play out her hand. Opponents' strategies always revealed more than they suspected about their strengths and weaknesses. He sat. Hannah's scent filled his lungs and the warmth of her body drew him like a magnet.

“This is FYC's story.” Her breath fanned his cheek as she leaned closer.

Finally, the motive for the sexy clothing, the wine and dinner became clear. Batter up. Sales pitch coming over the plate. “I don't need to know FYC's story.”

“Actually, you do. We have a visitor from Dubai coming soon. He's interested in setting up a similar program.”

“I'm not going to promote something I don't believe in.”

“You will believe if you just open your eyes and your mind.”

“And my wallet.”

Flashing him an exasperated look, she spread the large photo album across their laps. Her fingertips made contact with his thigh, sending desire charging through his veins, hot and heavy and drugging.

Her breath caught and her widened gaze found his, telling
him she'd experienced the same jolt. Or she faked her response well. On second thought, she couldn't fake those flushed cheeks and dilated pupils.

Their last kiss in this very room consumed his thoughts. He instantly recalled the feel of her, taste of her, heat and softness of her and he wanted more. His eyes dropped to her mouth. She licked her lush bottom lip—a clear invitation.

He should have known. His experience had proven that women used sex to get what they wanted. Marlie had used sex to get extra care for her horse when she couldn't be at the stable. At seventeen Wyatt had been too naive to recognize the tactic. But by the time Lana had come along fifteen years later and used her wiles to convince him to buy her expensive trinkets and trips, he'd gained enough insight to know exactly what she was doing and he'd given in only when it suited him. He hadn't loved Lana any more than she'd loved him, but she would have been a good asset to his career, a capable and well-connected hostess. That was the only reason he'd allowed her to move into the penthouse.

Hannah had pulled out every element of a good seduction for tonight. Legs, cleavage, candlelight, good food and wine. The question was how far was she willing to go for her horses? And how far was he willing to step beyond his personal code of ethics? It would serve her right if he used her the way she was trying to use him, and then turfed her on her pretty little butt at the first opportunity.

“Is this what you're after, Hannah?”

He speared his fingers through her silky hair and cupped her nape, then yanked her forward and covered her mouth with his. He wasted no time with preliminary get-to-know-you pecks and instead plunged into her mouth.

Slick, hot, sweet and moist, he stroked his tongue along hers. Damn she tasted good, better than he remembered. The stiffness drained from her spine. She leaned into him and kissed him back. His heart slammed approval against his ribs,
banging hard enough she could probably feel it against her breast.

Her hands lifted to clutch his forearms, as if she were going to push him away. A moment later, she caressed upward past his elbows, over his biceps and shoulders, leaving a trail of cauterized nerve endings in their wake.

She tilted her head, allowing him better access, and despite the warning bells clanging in his subconscious, he snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, snugging her hot body to his. Instead of teaching her a lesson, the soft crush of her breast pressing his chest and her thigh burning the length of his taught him one.

He wanted her. Ethics be damned.

She felt good against him. Hunger consumed him, making him delve deeper, hold tighter, crave more. Her short nails lightly scored the back of his neck, and a shiver of need racked him.

A thud on the floor vaguely penetrated his subconscious, but Hannah flinched. “Ouch.”

Casting a wide-eyed, wary glance at him, she bent and rubbed her foot, then picked up the photo album and clutched it to her chest like a shield. The flush of desire drained from her cheeks, leaving her pale and biting her bottom lip.

“That—that shouldn't have happened.”

“Don't play innocent, Hannah. Seducing me into funding your horse operation was your game plan tonight.”

Gaping, she bolted to her feet, dropped the book on the table and fisted her hands at her sides. “I didn't invite you here to seduce you, you egotistical jerk. I'd be lying if I didn't admit I need you to continue funding FYC, but the real reason I invited you here tonight was because I wanted to talk about Sam.”

Every cell of Wyatt's being snapped to attention. His body went from hot and aroused to cool and on guard in an instant. “What about Sam?”

“
He's
good company, and
his
understanding of horses is impressive.”

Wyatt ignored the insults and focused on the more critical issue. “I take it Nellie has been talking.”

He'd have to fire the best housekeeper/cook he'd ever had—yet another reason he found himself eager to return to the farm every weekend. That woman could cook. And Sam liked her.

Hannah narrowed her eyes in disgust, and anger vibrated through her. “You should know better than that. You won't find a more loyal employee than Nellie. She keeps confidential information to herself. What happens in that house stays in that house.”

“Then how do you know about Sam?”

Her gaze lowered. “I met him.”

“When and where?” He'd ordered Carol to keep Sam away from the barns. If she'd defied him, she'd be gone.

“He was out walking Sunday morning. I was in the pasture, and…we met.” She shrugged and reached for her wineglass. Her fingers curled around the stem, then stroked up, down, up. Nervous gesture, or intentionally seductive?