by Ava Miles
“Krug, huh?” Rhett said as a pop resounded through the room. “I’m pleased as punch to see I rate the best.”
“You are the best!” Dustin exclaimed, bouncing in his sneaker-clad feet. “Mom, can I have a little to celebrate? Please. What Rhett did down there was epic. Right, Uncle Mac?”
“Right,” Mac said, pouring three glasses of champagne and serving drinks to both Rhett and Abbie. “Up to you about Dustin, Abbie.”
A frown marred her mouth. “You know how I feel about this sort of thing, Dustin. The legal age for drinking is twenty-one.”
“But, Mom! It’s only a sip. To toast with.” The boy hunched his lean shoulders and gave an audible sigh. “I never get to have any fun.”
“Yeah, you have a hard life,” Mac said, clapping his shoulder in a move Rhett knew was designed to bring the kid out of his mood. “It’s Rhett’s celebration. How about you give the toast?”
“I don’t have anything to drink,” Dustin protested.
“Let’s remedy that,” Mac said, and together he and Dustin picked out a soda from the well-stocked bar in the family room.
Dustin had lost some of his earlier enthusiasm, but he smiled when he extended his glass in the circle the four of them had made. “To the king of poker.”
Rhett grinned and clinked their glasses together. “I can drink to that.” Of course, king today, peasant tomorrow. Nothing could change a man’s fate faster than a hand of cards.
Then he met Abbie’s eyes and touched his glass to hers.
He supposed a woman could change a man’s fate just as fast—if she had a mind to. The only problem was that, all these years later, Abbie still didn’t seem to have a mind to. He sipped his Krug after toasting with Mac.
“I know what would make this celebration even better,” Dustin said, his grin spreading wider. “Rhett should come stay at our house for a few days before he leaves. You’re leaving town on Wednesday, right?”
Nodding, Rhett cast a quick glance at Mac. Maverick was drinking his champagne as though he hadn’t felt his nephew’s invitation rattle the windows like a jet streaking through the sky.
“That way you can hang out with me more since I’m out of school,” Dustin continued, “and you can come to my soccer practice tomorrow. Isn’t that best idea ever, Mom?”
Rhett watched as Abbie took a healthy sip of her champagne. Her shoulders were ramrod straight, and she had the look of a chaperone who’d just been outmaneuvered by her charge.
“Dustin, I’m sure Rhett is all settled in his suite here at the hotel,” she said, and then coughed like she had a furball in her throat.
If Rhett hadn’t been so nervous, he might have laughed. But the stakes were too high. He wanted to stay at their house. Her house. Of course he’d been there before, but staying over would provide a different kind of intimacy.
“He can stay in the guesthouse, Mom!” Dustin pressed. “Wouldn’t you like to stay with us, Uncle Rhett? Mom makes the best pancakes.”
“He’s had my pancakes, Dustin,” Abbie said in a tight voice.
This time Rhett started coughing. He’d had her pancakes, but not her… Better not think about that right now, he told himself.
“Uncle Mac! Tell Rhett to come stay with us.” The boy looked over at his uncle.
“Rhett is more than welcome,” his friend said. “But your mom runs the house, so it’s up to her. That was the deal we made.” He gave his sister a pointed look.
A moment passed before she answered. “Of course, Rhett, you are more than welcome,” Abbie finally said. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
While it wasn’t the warmest invite, he was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. This was the opportunity he’d been hoping for. “Thank you, Abbie. I’ll see to gathering up my things now. Maybe we can make those pancakes you were talking about tonight, Dustin. I can help.”
The boy jumped in the air. “Great! Breakfast for dinner. That’s why I love you, Uncle Rhett. You’re always unconventional. I’ll help you pack.”
In no time at all, Rhett was at the Mavens’ Arizona residence. He loved the golden, Spanish-style two-story with the rustic interior. The sweeping ceilings and arched doorways added grandeur to the space without making it feel too austere. Coupled with Abbie’s decorating in warm colors and unique, eye-catching art—something she excelled at both in her work at Mac’s hotels and their various homes—Rhett found himself feeling more than comfortable.
“I always love being in one of your homes,” he told her as she led him out the back. They cut through the garden and passed the infinity swimming pool, making their way toward the guesthouse. “Your garden is looking wonderful as always. How you manage to bring color to the desert, I’ll never know. My mama says it’s a true art.”
She looked over at him sharply. “You talk to your mother about me?”
He found himself clearing his throat again. “Well, yes. I mean…you’re some of my best friends. She loves hearing stories about y’all.”
“Dustin worships the ground you walk on,” she said, glancing back at the main house. Dustin was changing into his swimsuit. As soon as Rhett had arrived, he’d waylaid him at the door, suggesting they get into the pool before making pancakes. “I wish he’d look at me that way again. The older he gets, the more I feel like he’s determined to fight me on the smallest things, anything from how loud he plays his music to cleaning up his room.”
The soft glow from the lighting in the garden gave her face an ethereal quality, making him think of angels or godmotherly types. She was so untouchable to him, and yet all he wanted to do was touch her and keep on touching her…
“He’s a teenager, Abbie,” he said, “and from my perch, I’d say a really good one. If you’d seen me at that age, you’d pack up and take off for parts unknown.”
She laughed softly. “Oh, Rhett. You always know what to say to make me feel better.”
A charge of electricity went through him, shooting from head to toe. “Do I? You’ve never said so before. I thought I…”
He trailed off, the words stuck in his craw.
Glancing up, her green eyes searched his face. “You thought what?”
A sharp noise burst from his lips before he could control himself. “That you didn’t think much of me and my way of thinking. I mean, you’re such a lady, and I’m…me. I’m not ashamed of that. I’ve made a heck of a life for myself after some pretty hard knocks, but you…”
He wasn’t sure if he should say the rest.
But then she put her hand on his arm, her skin warm and soft. She’d never touched him like that before. His heart seemed to stop.
“I what?” she whispered.
She seemed to be standing closer to him suddenly, her perfume filling his nose, intoxicating him. He could feel his control slipping away, and when he tried to bring it back, it was like a wet rope sliding through his clumsy fingers.
“You deserve better, is all,” he said softly.
Her mouth parted ever so slightly, and he could feel her shock prickle his own skin.
“I…I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t mind me none,” he said. “Must be fallout from the win.”
“No, it’s not,” she said, keeping her hand on his arm. “You’re mostly composed.”
He laughed. “Mostly” was a kindness. “Except around you.”
The fingers resting on his arm jerked. “Please don’t say that.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, wanting to kick himself. “You’d best get inside and leave me be. I’m no better than a junkyard dog, it seems. Please forget what I said.”
Picking up his suitcase, he moved the last few steps toward the guesthouse door.
“Rhett,” Abbie called out.
He turned reluctantly.
“You aren’t anything like what you just said.” She fisted her hands together at her side. “I’m sorry I ever made you think I thought less of you.” She was quiet for a moment, and when she continued,
it was in a smaller voice. “Most of the time, I don’t know what to do about you.”
That statement gave him hope. “Seems we’re in the same boat.”
“You should also know that I think you’re a good man,” she said, worrying her lip. “Dustin and Mac wouldn’t love you otherwise, and I’ve always trusted their judgment.”
It was weird to hear her talk about the Maven boys loving him, but he supposed it was true. He loved those bubbas just as much. “Thank you, Abbie.”
“If things were different…”
Those words shot straight to his heart. Before he’d had hope, the kind that made him think he could win even though the chips were down. This new emotion was one he recognized: anticipation. It was when he knew he was going to get what he wanted. He couldn’t have been more surprised.
Dropping his suitcase, he walked back to Abbie in a few long strides. She was shivering, he realized, but not from any cold. Heck, the dry summer heat was powerful enough to cook a goose.
He reached out his hand, slow enough so she could step away. But she didn’t. Her green eyes seemed to grow larger in her face, and when he touched her cheek, she closed them, her lashes fanning down in a way that seemed sensual.
“Oh, Rhett,” she said, her voice agonized.
“Abbie,” he said, his voice equally strained. “You’re so beautiful.”
The soft skin of her cheek felt like a million benedictions. Yes, please. This woman. It’s time.
He leaned down to kiss her, waiting a spell to see if she’d bolt. His lips brushed her mouth, and her breath rushed out.
“Mom! Uncle Rhett! Where are you?”
They jumped apart, and Rhett pressed his hand to his forehead. He’d had Abbie’s sweet mouth next to his—finally—and they’d been interrupted. His luck had flown the coop, dammit all to hell.
“We’re back here, getting me settled,” Rhett called out since Abbie seemed frozen to the ground. “I’ll get changed and meet you in a flash, Dustin.”
He heard a splash of water in the pool and gazed back at Abbie. “You’d best go on now.”
She nodded jerkily and then turned tail and ran.
Chapter 2
Abbie told herself she was being a complete ninny for running off after almost being caught kissing Rhett.
She headed down the path through the garden—the one that led to her office. That way Dustin wouldn’t see the lobster-red flush suffusing her cheeks. When she closed the door, she decided it wasn’t enough. She closed the curtains too. Adjusting everything in the room to her specification, she finally let herself have what she called an “unguarded” moment. As a mother, she didn’t allow herself many of them. There was always someone around, and she didn’t want to upset Dustin—or Mac for that matter.
She lowered herself onto her comfy cream sofa, tucking her feet under her body and curling in on herself.
She’d kissed Rhett Butler Blaylock!
The shock of that would have been great enough, but it was also her first real kiss in sixteen years. Dustin didn’t know—if she had her way, he’d never know—but his father had date-raped her in her last year of high school. Since then, she hadn’t thought of another man sexually except for Rhett—an attraction that had always baffled her, proving yet again she had no common sense when it came to men. They were as different as ocean and desert, she told herself over and over again.
But there had always been something about him…
Rhett treated her like a lady in that old-fashioned Southern way of his, standing up when she entered the room or opening the door for her. He’d picked up on how she felt about crowds without her ever saying so, and when they were all packed like sardines in some poker venue, he would cup her elbow and shield her from the crowd like a knight in shining armor.
Then there was his charming smile. And the way that he always laughed, low and loud and generous—at himself, at life, at losing hundreds of thousands of dollars in a poker game.
He had the courage and boundless optimism she lacked, and she admired that about him too. He usually believed the best of people, a trait she’d lost on that terrible night when the man she’d been infatuated with had taken her innocence.
But most of all, Rhett made her skin tingle. Until she’d met him, she hadn’t considered herself capable of something that earthy, that primal. She’d feared it was another thing that had been taken from her.
He made her mind create the wildest images, ones where he was kissing every inch of her body while murmuring to her in that smooth-as-molasses drawl of his.
Tonight, with only a few touches of his hand on her cheek and a quick brush of his lips on hers, he’d given her gallons of fuel for her fantasies.
Until that moment outside the guesthouse, she’d thought her fantasies of him were confined to her mind and the lonely dark nights when she found herself wishing for the touch and feel of a man.
She’d never imagined Rhett could want her back. She was too tame for his wildness, wasn’t she? But it seemed he did.
Good heavens, what was she going to do now that she knew about his feelings?
She wished Dustin had never asked him to stay over.
“Abbie!” she heard Mac shout.
Pressing her hand to her temple, she took one final deep breath before standing up. She was halfway to the door when her brother knocked on it. “Yes?”
He popped his head in. “You working? Come on, slave driver. We have a celebration going on. Plus, I’ll need your help with the pancakes.”
Right. The pancakes. They would keep her hands busy. She needed busy right now. “You go have a swim. I’ll get dinner—breakfast—going.”
“No,” Mac said, taking her hand, “you’re going to join us for a dip before dinner. There’s no rush.” He paused, taking a long look at her. “You seem stressed. What’s wrong?”
She never lied to Mac. Their rough upbringing had guaranteed they were allies from the start, and these last years—raising Dustin together, opening the hotels as a team—had drawn them closer together than most siblings. They were partners, really, and partners didn’t lie to each other. But she couldn’t tell him about her encounter with Rhett. They were best friends, and she wouldn’t risk hurting their relationship in any way.
Patting his chest, she made herself smile. “The poker tournament is over. You can turn your superpower radar off. I’m only tired.” At least it was a half-truth.
“Is it Rhett?” he asked, stopping her from leaving the office. “I know how you feel about having male guests stay over in our home.”
“It’s fine,” she said quickly. “Dustin loves him—”
“And so do I,” Mac said, “but he doesn’t have to stay if you’re uncomfortable.”
“It’s about time I get over being uncomfortable around men, isn’t it?” she asked and then shook her head. “I mean…Rhett would never hurt me. I know that. I’m just being silly, is all.”
“Trauma isn’t silly,” Mac said, carefully wrapping his arms around her. “But you’re right. Rhett would sooner cut off his own arm and leg than he would hurt you. I’m glad you’re thinking it’s time to get over being afraid, Abbie. You deserve to feel safe again, and you deserve a good man.” He made sure to meet her eyes when he said that last part.
Oh, brother, he was not going to start this again. “I’m going to start the pancakes. Go change.”
Pulling out of his embrace, she sought the safety of the kitchen. Their mother had never been a homemaker, and Abbie had pored through books and magazines to gather information on how to make a house a home. The kitchen was the center, she’d discovered, especially with men who loved to eat.
Everything was well-ordered, from the spotless granite countertops to the artfully arrayed dishes visible through the glass-front cabinets. The Sub-Zero refrigerator didn’t have a fingerprint on it. The order calmed her. When she opened it to retrieve the milk and butter for the pancakes, she righted the orange juice Dustin must have hastily put
away.
“Mom!” her son yelled.
She jumped and turned around. And locked her jaw to keep from drooling at the sight of Rhett Butler Blaylock standing at the French doors with a white towel slung around his hips. Dustin looked so small beside him, so young.
“I thought you were coming out,” her son said, wiping his feet on the hand-hooked rug she had by the door and crossing the room to her.
“You’re dripping all over the floor, Dustin,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“We were hungry.”
“You were hungry,” Rhett said laughing. “I’m happy to wait for dinner until you have a dip, Abbie. The water is real nice.”
Just the way he said “real nice” made her want to slide to the floor like the water rolling off his beautiful body.
“I want to get dinner ready,” Abbie said. “I don’t feel much like a swim.”
“But you love getting in the water at night,” Dustin told her, pulling out a bag of tortilla chips and salsa from the pantry. “Mom gets embarrassed being in a swimsuit when the sun is out. She’s like a vampire swimmer.”
“Dustin!” she called out.
“I’m sure your mama has her reasons,” Rhett said, “and since she’s your mama, you might be a touch more respectful.”
Her son swung around and gaped at Rhett, rather like Abbie was doing.
The tortilla chips fell to his side, still clutched in his hand. “I was only kidding, Uncle Rhett.”
“Trust an old bubba when he tells you that isn’t something to joke about. Some women don’t like to be seen with only a stitch of clothing on. It’s better to be sensitive about such matters.”
His golden eyes met hers, and she felt her heartbeat start to race. That wasn’t the first time he’d shocked her with one of his insights. Even though she’d mastered the art of locking her emotions in, of shoring up her heart, he seemed to read her mind.
“Dustin, why don’t you go on out and join your Uncle Mac? I’ll help your mama with the flapjacks. I used to be a pretty good helper to my own mama in the kitchen.”
“All right, Uncle Rhett,” Dustin said, ducking his head as he shuffled forward.
