Tempting the Enemy--A Sexy Billionaire Romance

by JC Harroway

  ‘I’ll miss you,’ she whispers, her astounding eyes and the love I see reflected in their depths holding mine captive. ‘I’ve only just found you and now I’m leaving.’

  ‘We’ll have our whole lives together,’ I promise. ‘You’re going to teach me how to cook and I’m going to help you start a restaurant. I’ll even ship your grandmother’s piano to my Park Avenue apartment, where it can stay for ever, along with you, if you want. Or we can put it in the home we buy together. We’ll get married and have children and work alongside each other for all of our lives.’ I kiss her, pouring all of my feelings into the love we make, knowing that as much as she belongs with me, I belong with her.

  EPILOGUE

  Two years later

  Ava

  ‘I’M BURNING IT...’ he says, stirring for all he’s worth.

  I laugh and lean over the stove. I’m wafted with fragrant steam from the pan of risotto—thyme, mushrooms and white wine—but more delicious than that is the gorgeous scent of my man.

  My fiancé.

  ‘You’re not burning it. Smells delicious.’ I stifle a yawn behind my hand. It’s been a long day. The restaurant I named Hamilton’s is closed but for Monroe and Hudson, who are in New York on Bold business and have come for a late supper, which Sterling is helping me to prepare.

  ‘I think it’s ready,’ he says, a nervous grin stretching his mouth.

  ‘I think you’re right.’ I watch in admiration as he spoons the creamy risotto, which he learned to perfect in northern Italy last year when he visited for a few weeks of my six-month cooking odyssey, into four white bowls. With a flourish of grated parmesan and a sprig of fresh thyme, he holds his arms out wide at his achievement.

  ‘Ta-da!’ Before I can clap, he scoops me up in his arms and swirls me around in a circle. We laugh and kiss and he finally puts my feet back on the ground—although I’ve pretty much floated through the last two years of living my dream.

  Because he’s been there, too.

  I press my face to his chest, above his apron, and breathe him in. He smells of bread dough and thyme. My heart clenches at how blessed I am to have found a new place to belong: running my own Brooklyn Italian restaurant and living with Sterling, my one-in-a-million man.

  ‘You okay?’ he murmurs into my hair.

  I nod, looking up at him with so much happiness I could burst. ‘I have something to tell you.’

  He presses his mouth to mine once more and then backs me up against the scrubbed clean stainless-steel workbench. ‘You do?’ His mouth trails down my neck, tickling and teasing. He hoists me onto the bench and slots his hips between my thighs.

  ‘Yes...’ I drop my head back, exposing my neck to his kisses as his hand caresses my sensitive breast through my shirt. ‘There’s no time for this,’ I pant. ‘Your risotto is getting cold.’ But I grip his belt loops anyway, shunting his hips closer and grinding against him.

  ‘They won’t mind waiting,’ he says about his friends, who have also become my friends. Who knew that it was possible to belong to multiple families? I now have three—my restaurant family, Bold and Sterling’s family.

  And soon there’ll be a fourth.

  I undo the apron strings at his back and slide my hands under his shirt to his warm skin. He’s nibbling the spot on my neck that makes my toes curl and makes me gasp. It’s wonderfully distracting.

  ‘I’m pregnant,’ I say as my eyes roll back in my head.

  He freezes. The sublime torture of his mouth on me, the scrape of his facial hair and his hardness just where I want him between my legs stops abruptly.

  ‘You are?’ His green eyes beam. His smile is so delighted I chuckle and kiss him while nodding in confirmation.

  We kiss and laugh and kiss some more until the chef in me really can’t ignore the cooling risotto a moment longer.

  We share goofy grins as we carry two bowls each out to the restaurant. The lights are off bar one spotlight over the window table, where Monroe and Hudson wait.

  ‘Sterling’s specialty,’ I say. ‘He made this all by himself.’ I place a bowl in front of Monroe and Hudson then take the seat Sterling holds out for me.

  ‘A man of many talents,’ scoffs Hudson. ‘Don’t show up the rest of us, mate.’

  Sterling kisses me and takes his seat, his smile so big I know exactly what’s coming.

  ‘I am talented.’ He stares at me, his grin wide as he positively vibrates with excitement.

  I chuckle and hold his eye contact, silent communication passing between us.

  ‘So talented, in fact,’ I say as Sterling lifts my hand to his lips and presses a kiss across my knuckles, ‘that I’m pregnant.’

  We kiss again. I can’t keep my hands off him or my delight inside.

  ‘Congratulations!’ Monroe and Hudson say in unison. The four of us postpone dinner a little while longer to share hugs and handshakes.

  ‘Of course,’ pipes up Monroe, sharing an indulgent look with Hudson, ‘It’s women who have the real talent when it comes to procreation.’ She winks at me. ‘We can show them, right? Because I’m pregnant, too.’

  After more laughter and hugs, we swap the wine for sparkling water and raise a toast.

  ‘To Hamilton’s, Bold and babies,’ says Sterling with eyes only for me.

  ‘To belonging,’ I add, and kiss my fiancé.

  * * *

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  Fast Lane

  by Margot Radcliffe

  CHAPTER ONE

  “BLAIR!” NATE CALLED. Blair Sandoval froze as her brother strode through the wrought-iron screen door of their family’s winery tasting room clearly on a mission.

  She quickly shoved the plate of artisanal cheese and imported crackers she’d liberated from the stash reserved for wine pairings (in an admittedly weak attempt to hide the fact that she’d been about to sneak off with it) behind her back so he wouldn’t see it. Yes, the lunch she’d forgotten was sitting in her fridge at home, which was only a five-minute drive down the vineyard road, but Blair had priorities. One of which was to eat free cheese. That said, she’d perhaps taken a bit more cheese than was appropriate or wise, but honestly, was there such a thing as too much cheese?

  Unfortunately, the overexcited smile on her brother’s face coupled with the notable addition of the tall, dark-haired man beside him did not bode well for her previous plan of a lunch hour watching leaky faucet how-to videos (hers had kept her up until three in the morning) and eating roughly four times the amount of the daily recommendation of dairy. No, her brother had clearly brought her work that would obviously include that dreaded faction of humanity known as “other people.” Yes, he was about to make her give the harrowing vineyard tour, which was very far down on her list of job duties as the vineyard’s part owner and viticulturist.

  Giving the tour was usually reserved for one of their highly decorated wine e
ducators who excelled at public speaking, but when it was a VVIP (Vineyard Very Important Person, Nate’s words) he always made her do it since she knew everything about the vineyard and was the celebrated name people associated with Sandoval Wines. Her brother, who ran the marketing side of the business (hence Blair’s current torture), wasn’t much for the finer scientific details of what was essentially fancy farming. People romanticized wine and the Sonoma and Napa Valleys, and with good reason since there wasn’t a day she didn’t love waking up and seeing her vineyard and watching people dressed in their best taste and love her wine, but when one got right down to it grape growing was just as much of an earthy and dirty business as any farm.

  “Is that more cheese?” Nate barked with an annoying brotherly eye roll. “Mom would bring lunch down here for you if you asked, you know. I don’t know why you always insist on eating our pairing stock.”

  Blair shrugged. “You know why I don’t want Mom coming down here. We’re on a break at the moment.” Then she glared at Nate in warning to convey that he should be quiet. A couple of months ago, Blair’s world had been torn up in little itty bitty shameful pieces when she’d learned the man she’d been dating, the man she’d all but envisioned a future with, was married. The guilt and pit of awfulness that surrounded her now that she’d hurt another woman and her marriage was devastating. That she, Blair, who always followed the rules had been made to be the other woman. It reactivated the perpetual nausea she’d been nursing since the moment she’d found out, such that she almost reconsidered the coveted cheese. But that had been just one of the many debilitating side effects of a breakup that still had her questioning everything she’d ever done and every man she met.

  So for right now while her mom was still unreachably deep in her own feelings about Blair’s ex (as if Blair wasn’t), Blair was just going to not talk about it with her anymore. The woman could not look at Blair without being reminded of her ex and what he had done to her daughter. In essence, that just made Blair feel worse, and some days lately she barely made it out of bed, let alone look herself in the mirror without feeling like a person scraped off the bottom of someone’s shoe. She didn’t need her mom making it worse.

  She hadn’t even found out from the man either. It had been her ex’s wife who’d come to see Blair at a wine-making talk she was giving in Napa Valley, pleading with her to end the affair she hadn’t known she was having. Her apologies hadn’t been enough, obviously, but the least Blair could do was stop communicating with her husband, which she had immediately. However, she was still too sick with guilt to feel the same rage the situation inspired in her mother, so Blair was taking a step back from the family for a minute. Which wasn’t exactly easy since her entire family lived on the vineyard’s land, which was essentially a Sandoval compound with their respective houses only a mile or so apart from each other, but she’d been trying her best. She needed the space to heal on her own and put back the pieces of herself that had been completely obliterated by the hurt she’d caused someone else and her ex’s perfidious betrayal.

  Her brother turned to the man beside him who had a wide mouth, bracketed by smile lines. He looked like someone who’d had an easy, charmed life in the sun. He reminded Blair of a professional golfer, clean-cut, lean and sports chic.

  “This is my sister, Blair,” Nate said, introducing her. “She’s complicated and a thief, but we love her anyway.” A corner of the man’s mouth quirked as he followed Nate’s gaze to her. It gave her permission to look at him more, not that she cared what he looked like because relationships were no longer in her future. She was closer to joining a nunnery than dating again at the moment. But dressed in a mint-green golf polo and khaki shorts, a pair of black reflective sunglasses tucked into the V at his neck, she had to admit that he was attractive in that kind of bro-sports way. In his thirties, though probably a little older than her, he was tanned dark bronze that spoke of extended time spent outdoors, and the defined muscles of his thick arms were dusted with dark hair.

  “Good afternoon, Blair. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the man said, a thick Southern accent flowing out of his mouth like warm maple syrup. “And don’t worry, I’m what you’d call labyrinthine myself, so by comparison a little complicated is practically a breath of fresh air.”

  Blair met his green eyes then, made even more vibrant by his matching shirt color, and smiled at him against her will because he was charming. It was a bad idea because she’d fallen for charming before and look how that had ended. But how could she not when he’d gone out of his way to defend her against her bossy older brother? He couldn’t know it, but they were basically friends for life now.

  So with an inner sigh of defeat, Blair set her cheese plate down on the counter of the bar that spanned nearly the length of the vineyard’s currently empty tasting room. The sound of the ceramic dish hitting the solid granite was amplified in the room with its cathedral ceiling and wood floors.

  “This is Cole Taggart, he was hoping for a tour,” Nate informed. “He’s been over at the track calling the race and I told him we’d love to give him a tasting and a look at our vines and warehouse.” Nate said the words meaningfully, giving her a look as if she was supposed to have some idea of who this man was, but she had literally no clue. She knew some big racing names just by virtue of being as close to the famous Sonoma Valley Raceway as they were, but she wasn’t much for driving fast, competing at things or watching people drive repeatedly around in a circle, so racing wasn’t a big slice on her pie chart of subjects she was knowledgeable about.

  “I’d be happy to do both of those things,” she chirped, giving her brother her biggest fake smile. “As it happens, I already have the cheese ready so we won’t even have to wait to get started on the tasting and pairing.”

  Cole himself laughed then, eyes crinkling. “Now, I don’t want to put y’all out. Nate told me you were closed today but I didn’t know that until after I’d already made my way out here so I’m happy to go ahead and schedule a tour during regular business hours.”

  Nate was already reassuring him that it was fine, but it was Blair who needed to fix this. She trusted Nate to know who she needed to entertain even if she herself didn’t know. Though not a people person, keeping up the vineyard’s reputation was her number one concern. She loved this land, the grapes, the people and would do anything to ensure her family’s legacy. Occasional cheese pilfering aside, the vineyard was her life and she’d been the one to bring it into the future. She loved her father and grandfather, but they’d been happy owning a local vineyard. It wasn’t until she came of age that the vineyard had gone to the next level to receive international acclaim.

  “Mr. Taggart.” Blair grinned, pulling out a bottle of their pricier wines, absolutely loving it when Nate started shaking his head. “I have in my hand a bottle so rare and special that Nate there is about to cry it’s so good. I’ve been saving it for just the right occasion and based on your previous vocabulary, you seem like the kind of man who would appreciate indulgence. Do I have that right about you?”

  A corner of his mouth kicked up, his eyes twinkling, and she was thankful he had a sense of humor. It was shocking how many people came in who didn’t, as if wine made people think they had to act snooty. Maybe this afternoon wouldn’t be a total wash after all. At the very least, she’d already pissed Nate off by giving Cole wine with a price tag over six thousand dollars a bottle. Definitely a day well spent.

  “You have that exactly right about me, Ms. Sandoval,” he drawled, then glanced down to her left hand. “Or is it missus? We in the South like to be correct in our honorifics, you know.”

  “I’m not married,” she told him and felt Nate’s eyes on her, burning into her skin with warning.

  “Well,” Nate finally said, backing up, “I’ll leave you both to it.”

  “Thank you very much, Nate, and I’ll catch you tomorrow on the golf course?”

  Nate g
ave Cole a salute. “Looking forward to it.” Then once he was at the door and Cole’s attention was on the bottle of wine she’d opened, Nate waved a hand between her and Cole before drawing a finger across his throat indicating for her not to screw things up by getting involved with him. Blair just rolled her eyes. As if randomly hooking up with a customer was a thing she did ever. Couldn’t a girl annoy her brother by giving away an obscenely expensive bottle of wine to a customer without arousing suspicion anymore?

  She smiled up at Cole before setting the bottle aside. “We’ll save that one for last,” she told him in a hushed conspiratorial tone. “Full disclosure, most people opt to do the tour first. The tasting tends to get people a little too tipsy to traipse around the hilly vineyard afterward.”

  Cole grinned. “That sounds perfect,” he said, leaning onto the bar. “But what I’d really like is for you to continue eating your lunch, Ms. Sandoval, like you were before I barged in here with your brother and interrupted you.”

  Blair was known to push the bounds of professionalism sometimes but there was no way she was going to eat lunch in front of a guest. “How about we take the tour first and I’ll eat with you during the tasting?”

  “Well, I don’t love it because I know personally my hanger is epic, but I’m not gonna force a lady to do what she doesn’t want to, so lead on to the vineyard Ms. Sandoval,” he said with a tip of his head and a quirk of his lips.

  “I appreciate your concern for my hanger, but I’m more of a stewing in anger type anyway, so I promise not to take anything out on you if I reach a critical hunger level.”

  “I won’t hold you to that promise,” he told her. “And I like a mouthy woman anyhow, so I suppose the hungrier you get the happier I’ll be.”

  His words stopped her as they made their way to the front door to lead him outside to the vines. “A mouthy woman?” she repeated with a hard question mark attached. “With all due respect, Mr. Taggart, that sounds a little like pandering.”