Dodging Temptation (The Retreat) (5 page)

Dodge stomped across the veranda and yanked the door open hard enough that it hit the wall and nearly rebounded against his head. Maybe a hard whack was what he needed to get thoughts of Harper and her pouty lips out of his brain for good.

Chapter Five

A
handful of late-night revelers spilled out of The Retreat
’
s low-key wine bar and onto the wide front porch. From there they could see nearly every star, glimmering with almost searchlight brightness in the inky black Wyoming sky. Dodge
’
s gaze skimmed the guests, looking for signs of discontent that needed to be smoothed over and spotted none. The relaxed faces of his guests should have set him at ease, but they didn
’
t.

Everything about him was wound up as t
ight as a rubber band about to snap. Ready. Edgy. Revved up for action. He
’
d been like this since that woman had poked her head up above a stack of worn books in the library and told him she wasn
’
t going to play things his way. He
’
d pushed, and she
’
d stood her ground. That didn
’
t happen with him. His mother was wrong. He wasn
’
t the tree. He was the wind, and people bent to his will, but not Harper. She
’
d thrown everything out of whack.

Loosening his jaw before he cracked a tooth, Dodge made his escape from the veranda before another guest in ten thousand dollars’ worth of diamonds tried to wheedle information out of him about the reporters skulking outside the gates. He squinted his eyes against the harsh brightness of the two-story lobby compared to the easy darkness outside. Taking inventory as he walked, he took mental notes so he
’
d remember to congratulate the staff on managing to balance the luxury and rustic charm of what was really a top-of-the-line log cabin on steroids.

He should go straight up the grand staircase to the family quarters in the west wing, but swerved left around the steps without thinking too much about why. A minute later he sat inside The Retreat
’
s dimly lit library, the side door of which would open up to a short staff hallway leading to the kitchen. He had a sudden craving for mint chocolate chip ice cream and a deceptive corporate spy with a great ass.

“Burning the midnight oil?” Griff peeled away from the library wall, a book in his hand and an ornery look on his face.

Dodge slowed to a stop. “Just got the munchies.”

“How convenient. Harper passed through here on her way to the kitchen a few minutes ago.” Griff snapped the book closed and slid it home on the bookshelf. “But then again, I expect you know that already.”

He stiffened. “Is that why you
’
re here after you spent the afternoon sniffing after her heels?” Try as he might, Dodge hadn
’
t been able to get the image of the two of them together out of his head. It had eaten away at him, wrecking his peace of mind with each sharp bite. “That would explain why you
’
re here. Don
’
t think I
’
ve ever seen you in the library before.”

Griff chuckled like his brother
’
s dig hadn
’
t even registered. “It
’
s not really my kind of place, but Harper gave me some ideas, and I wanted to give them a whirl.”

“What kind of ideas?” He knew the kind of ideas his brother usually had and The Retreat
’
s library didn
’
t have a copy of
The
Kama Sutra
.

“Not the kind you
’
re thinking of, although maybe I should start there with her. With that nice round ass and those heavy tits of hers, she might be just the distraction I need.”

An angry heat scorched Dodge from the inside out, but he held it together. Control was his best weapon when it came to brotherly love taps like this.

“You know she works for our grandfather. He probably sent her here to spy on us and sabotage the deal with The Brasch Group.”

“She’s not a corporate spy.”

“Oh, she told you that? You’re too trusting.”

“And you’re sounding more like our my-way-or-the-highway grandfather every day.”

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe that’s what you need to get you off your high horse. A good fuck with a hot chick who doesn’t think the sun rises and falls on your hairy ass.” Griff arched his eyebrows. “What, no reaction? Damn, she is just business for you then, but then again isn
’
t everything with you?” His brother shook his head and mumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like “stupid asshole.”

“Not everyone in this world is obsessed with chasing tail,” he said.

“And that
’
s where you fuck it up, brother.” Griff grabbed a book off the shelf and winged it at Dodge.

He caught it without the slightest fumble. “Enlighten me.”

“It
’
s not about getting ass,”
Griff said.
“It
’
s about having fun with someone else, getting your rocks off, and everyone walking away happy. Not everything is an all-or-nothing, win-or-lose situation, dumbass. If you weren’t so focused on making the next big deal you might realize that.”

Griff couldn
’
t be more wrong if he were a broken clock. Winning wasn
’
t the best thing, it was the only thing. And the way for him to win was to be the final nail in his grandfather
’
s hotel business by having The Brasch Group choose The Retreat instead of his grandfather
’
s hotels. And to make that happen, Harper had to bend to his will.

Unbidden, a mental image of a naked Harper over his desk flashed in his mind along with a brilliant solution to all his troubles. Conventional wisdom said to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Well, you couldn’t get much closer than what he pictured doing to Harper. Blackmailing spy or not, she was a woman on the rebound, and he had every intention of screwing her before she got a chance to fuck him over. No one ever said business—or life—was fair.

“Don
’
t hurt yourself looking up all the big words.” Dodge tossed the book back to his brother, turned on his heel, and stormed out of the library and into the short hallway leading to the kitchen.

Loosening his tie with one hand, he leaned his shoulder against the swinging door and entered the kitchen. The light over the industrial sink was on, and the walk-in freezer door stood open. An off-key rendition of “All I Want for Christmas is You” filtered out from the freezer. Harper. It had to be. He paused mid-step, the first hint of a smile cracking through his pissed off shell. The woman was horrible, a singing-in-the-shower-couldn
’
t-even-help level of awful. She might be the only person in the world who could give him a run for his money in the shitty singing category.

He released the breath pushing against his ribcage like an overfilled balloon. Her caterwauling did more to unwind the tension in his shoulders than the punishing workout he
’
d put his body through this afternoon. He removed his cowboy-boot cuff links, dropped them into his shirt pocket, and rolled up his sleeves as he made his way to the freezer, getting there in time for Harper
’
s big finish.

Dressed in black yoga pants and a tank top that made his mouth go sawdust dry, Harper sang her way to the front of the freezer with her eyes closed and a spoon for a microphone. “All I want for Christmaaaaas is youuuuuuuuu.”

When the note cracked, he broke in. “You know it
’
s May, right?”

Harper
’
s eye
’
s snapped open, and the drawn out “you” turned into a startled yelp. Her singing was pitchy, but her scream was downright earsplitting. A deep flush raced up from her cleavage, turning the miles of creamy flesh nearly as red as her hair.

“Would you stop doing that?” Eyes narrowed and attitude set on kill, she stormed out of the freezer armed with her spoon and half a gallon of ice cream and kicked the door shut behind her.

“What?” He didn
’
t bother hiding his grin. “Telling you the month?”

She stormed past him, giving him a wonderful view of her ass covered in the clingy black fabric, and headed for the hall door. “No, scaring the shit out of me.”

“Sorry.” He slipped in front of her, cutting off her escape route, and tapped on the frozen half gallon
’s lid.
“What
’
s the flavor tonight?”

“Cookie dough and, before you ask, no—I
’
m not sharing.” But she didn
’
t make any moves to circle around him. For as cold as her words were, everything else about her was fiery hot.

She nibbled on her bottom lip and the tension that had ebbed out of his muscles came back in full force. Last night her full lips had tasted of mint chocolate chip and temptation. Tonight, he wanted to taste more than the ice cream off her lips. He wanted to drown in her. Mixing business and pleasure was about to get interesting, but as long as he remembered who she worked for, he’d be the one coming out on top.

She smelled of lilacs, fresh soap, and the kind of trouble a man couldn
’
t help but get tangled up with. Pink tinted her porcelain skin, the last reminder of her earlier flush. Her nipples tented the smooth fabric of her tank top. From the freezer or him? If it wasn
’
t him, he sure as hell wanted his chance to show her what he could do.

Hard and hungry for her, Dodge stood his ground even as every urged him to take what he wanted—what she wanted. This wasn’t a typical mutual seduction. He had to take it slow so he could find out exactly what she was planning with his grandfather and counteract it without either of them being the wiser. But, of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to enjoy every minute of it.

“You’re not sharing?” Instead of reaching for Harper, he toyed with the carton
’
s lid, popping it open, his gaze never leaving hers. “Not even a spoonful?”

“No.” She slapped her hand over his, shutting the ice cream lid. “You
’
re on my shit list.”

“That makes us even. You
’
re on mine, too.” He brought his thumb up, stroking it across the center of her soft palm, even that simplest of touch making his cock hard. “Half a spoonful and in exchange I
’
ll provide the whipped cream and maraschino cherries…as long as you promise not to sing.”

I
t was the whipped cream that pushed Harper over the edge into saying yes, not the tingling sensation traveling up from her palm when Dodge touched her or the slip-sliding warmth that settled low in her stomach every time she saw him. She sprayed a second shot onto her ice cream. Definitely the whipped cream.

She lifted the spoon, but her muscles locked when she glanced up. He was staring at her with enough hot lust in his green eyes to set off every alarm bell and oh-girl-get-out-now warning bell in her head. No one had eve
r looked at her like that before. Not her parent-approved boyfriends, not her ex-husband on their wedding day, not a single solitary soul. But Dodge did, and she liked it. Really liked it. Never-wanted-him-to-stop kind of liked it. And she didn
’
t have time for that. Her timetable was clear. Two weeks to finish authenticating May Loving
’
s library and then she was out of here and back to her real life on the East Coast—as messed up as it might be at the moment. She needed to concentrate on rebuilding her life, not adding more complications to it.

Holding out the spoonful of cookie dough ice cream topped with a dangerous level of whipped cream she asked, “You didn
’
t poison it, did you?”

The tangible electricity sizzling between them lost some of its voltage at her snarky question, but it lingered below the surface.

“Damn, you figured out my plan so easily.” Dodge twisted an imaginary mustache before adding five cherries to the three scoops in his bowl.

She devoured her bite and pointed her empty spoon at him. “I
’
ve learned the hard way about men like you,” she said with mock seriousness.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I saw the video of your ex
’
s press conference.”

Now that brought the mood right down to shittastic levels, and all the sense of silly fun leaked out of the room like air from a damaged balloon. “You and most of the world.”

Embarrassment beat against her cheeks as she carried her bowl over to the small, utilitarian table in the corner and sat down. The metal chair didn
’
t offer any comfort or give, not that she needed or wanted any. As her mother had so succinctly told her when Harper had turned to her after the disastrous press conference, everyone loves to see all the ugly in someone else
’
s life, and she
’
d just handed it to the masses on the silver spoon she
’
d been born with in her mouth. Harper had been raised to only show the pretty, and with one impulsive action had invited the world to see all the ugly. Now they’d never stop looking for more.

Dodge settled down across from her. “You have a hell of a slapping hand.”

She
’
d felt that smack against her palm for fifteen minutes after she
’
d stormed off the dais while the reporters screamed questions at her back. The wide-eyed look of surprise on her ex
’
s face the split second before her hand made contact had almost been worth it. Almost.

“He deserved it.” She shouldn
’
t say more, but something about sitting across from Dodge in a deserted kitchen in the middle of the night relaxed the always-keep-your-private-life-private lessons she
’
d learned growing up. The words unraveled from around a rock that had been taking up too much space in her gut since the press conference, weighing her down and making each step toward a new life more difficult than it should be. “I told him the only way I was going to that press conference as my final act as his wife was if I got to stay in the background, didn
’
t have to say a damn thing, and that he
’
d agree to get a quiet divorce a few months later once the media started talking about other scandals. He decided to improvise with that melodramatic proposal.”