by Robyn Grady
“These are interesting times for your country, young man.”
Teagan explained, “Professor Vennard is an expert in Marxian economics.”
“An ideology growing in popularity,” Vennard added, meeting Jacob’s gaze. “Particularly in your quarter. Capitalism was always doomed.”
Jacob slid both hands into his pants’ pockets. “There’s certainly a lot of debate going on at the moment.”
“Of course,” Vennard continued, “there are many influences that affect government and economic policy, although the plight of the working class is rarely one of them. Lawmakers, and people who administer the law like yourself, should give a nation its backbone. Have you ever asked yourself what you can do to help the cause?” The man’s bushy eyebrows knitted together. “Son, are you part of the problem or the solution?”
Jacob appeared to be forming his words. Before he could reply, however, the professor went on.
“Those at the top are a disease, spreading a palsy that will ultimately dry up every shred of opportunity for the common man for generations to come.”
Someone cleared his throat.
“Well, I know I’m pretty dry at the moment.” Cole tilted his chin toward the bar. “What’s your poison, Jacob?”
As the men headed over—with Sebastian eager to fit in and Wynn clearly itching for a fight—Teagan hung back with the girls.
Her gaze on Jacob, Taryn kept her voice low. “Teagan. Uh, yum.”
Grace was smiling at the boys congregating and talking around the bar. “Wynn did pretty well, considering.”
Teagan exhaled. “Well, no one threw an actual punch.” So disaster averted. At least for now.
Sighing, Taryn put a palm on her baby-bump belly. “You look so right together.”
“You mean despite how he was going to drag Wynn to court?” Teagan asked.
Grace didn’t seem concerned. “What is a good love affair without some hurdles? Wynn and I had a couple of doozies to overcome.”
“Cole and me, too,” Taryn said. “When we met, I thought he was the most arrogant, controlling man on the planet.”
“I couldn’t see any future for Wynn and me. I had so many doubts.” Grace looked at Teagan. “Who are we if not our deepest hang-ups?”
Teagan was thinking back. When she’d met Jacob, he had triggered her, too, but only in the bedroom, and in a very good way. But as well as they got along in that regard, she couldn’t imagine her and Jacob getting married, and not simply because of all the ill feelings swirling around the specter of that shelved lawsuit, or the fact that it was way too soon to even consider such a thing.
What about having a family?
Jacob must be on tenterhooks waiting for those paternity results. But if he was like Damon Barringer and wanted a family of his own one day—and not via adoption or surrogacy—Teagan knew from experience that could be a deal breaker. As far as she could tell, there was just no getting around that one.
End of story, close the book and goodnight.
Thirteen
As they left the interrogation room and Teagan led the way down an outside path, through a series of magnificent gardens to one of the Hunter estate’s guesthouses, Jacob could barely contain a shudder.
The Rawsons were wealthy folk. Nice home, beautiful property, but, Geez, Louise, nothing like this. The estate was on a massive parcel of land overlooking Sydney Harbour, complete with a mansion in every decadent sense of the word... This had to be one of the most expensive pieces of real estate in Australia—perhaps in the world.
My, my, how the überwealthy lived.
As they entered the guesthouse’s vast main room, well away from earshot, Teagan made a comment. “Well, Dad was pleasant enough.”
Because the old guy had smiled? Once. Jacob wasn’t going to whine about it. Guthrie Hunter obviously had other stuff on his mind, like how to dodge the next assassin attempt.
Teagan added, “Wynn was a little defensive.”
A little? The fire blazing in Wynn’s eyes had said, I want to rip out your heart and feed it to a lantern fish—the kind that live at the murky bottom of the ocean and look like a cross between Freddy Krueger and Dawn of the Dead.
“The professor friend of your father’s is an interesting character,” he said, taking in more of the multimillion dollar surroundings before opening a random door that led to a softly lit, marble-clad room that housed a fifty-foot interior lap pool.
Teagan was headed for the other end of the main room. “They’ve known each other since college.”
“They obviously took different approaches to their study of economics.” A Marxism economist would probably barf at the accumulation of this kind of monumental personal wealth. “They must have some knockout debates.”
“My father and Professor Vennard have different ideas on how the world ought to be run. Dad believes in the dream.” She pressed a button on a remote that opened fifteen-foot-high curtains covering four sets of French doors. “Work hard and you’ll reap the rewards.”
“And the more rules that bend in your favor, the more lucrative those rewards become.”
Teagan’s eyebrows knitted. “My father—and brothers—are astute businessmen. They contribute. Create jobs. Isn’t that something to celebrate?”
“And yet you chose not to join the party.” She’d turned her back on the opportunity to be a part of Hunter Enterprises.
“I prefer a simpler life.”
Closing the distance between them, he spread his arms, flipped up his palms and looked around. “Teagan, this is not simple.”
Her grin was wry. “The Rawsons aren’t exactly paupers.”
“No. But they give back a lot, and from the heart.”
“Right. Because my family doesn’t have any philanthropic causes.”
“Donations to political connections don’t count.”
Her beautiful green eyes narrowed. “I don’t like this conversation.”
As she turned away, he winced and caught her arm, held her back.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said. “I guess this is harder than I’d thought.”
“You mean facing my brother?”
“Not that. More than that.” He and Teagan had committed to being transparent—honest—so he soldiered on. “I’m used to doing battle with big corporations, not trying to chum up with people who vacation on hundred-foot yachts.”
“I seem to recall a flight to New York in a private aircraft.”
“C’mon. That plane isn’t worth as much as your annual housekeeping bills.”
“My housekeeping bills?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I think I do.” She edged away. “Obviously, Wynn is having trouble putting the idea of that lawsuit aside, but let’s be honest. You’re still champing at the bit to see him pay. Which is funny, because he didn’t do anything wrong in the first place.”
“You don’t know that.” He shook his head. “You can’t know that.”
“I know what he told me. He said—”
“Don’t tell me.” Jacob threw up his hands and turned away. “I don’t want to know.”
“Exactly.”
Jacob was torn down the middle. He wanted to be here, but he didn’t need this rock hanging over his head. Ultimately, if Grant Howcroft came back and said he wanted to go through with that lawsuit, Jacob was no longer in a position to help. Wynn Hunter could very well see this visit—at least in part—as a ruse. A way for him to ferret out incriminating information. Or to intimidate him. A judge would see it that way, too.
Which, of course, he had known when he’d suggested that he join Teagan here.
But, boy, it grated having to pass on the opportunity to score a win against an institution that ruined reputations by positing fiction as fact. The other downside of this exercise pained
him just as much.
Jacob knew firsthand about coming from nothing and having no one. That reality was the kindling upon which his passion for the law had been built. He wanted to fight the good fight. Level the playing field. Teagan, on the other hand, couldn’t possibly know how that felt. Whether or not she espoused being independent, by virtue of her family’s Midas-level assets, she was the one percent...privileged in a way normal folk could never dream of.
That wasn’t her doing, her fault. At least she wasn’t shoving it down people’s throats every chance she got like another woman he knew.
Ivy Schluter.
Teagan was standing by the French doors. The view was a painter’s inspiration—a panorama of that bluest of blue harbor with its lazy water traffic and the sweeping shells of Sydney’s famed Opera House. Her arms were crossed tightly and her shoulders were squared in that cute polka-dot jumpsuit. Jacob felt like an ass for venting, but he would make up for it now. Not another word about anything other than how happy he was to be spending time with her again. About taking what they had—despite the distractions—to the next level.
He moved across the room and stopped behind her. Then he gazed out over the vista, too.
“I don’t think I’ve seen a more spectacular sight,” he said.
She didn’t comment, didn’t move.
“It must look amazing at night. All the city lights and stars on the water.”
He waited again, and finally she spoke.
“My father bought this block of land for my mother. They’d been looking around for a family home—Cole was on the way—and they saw the For Sale sign. The company was going through some hardships at the time. Mom understood they couldn’t afford it, but she’d still fallen in love with this view. She’d said it was so close to heaven, you could reach up and swing from the clouds.
“The next week, Dad took her out for a picnic...fried chicken, cheese straws and sweet tea. When he’d stopped here again and said that he’d managed to buy the land, she didn’t believe him. So he took the deed from his pocket.” She shifted and took a deep breath. “Whenever he tells that story, Dad says that Mom couldn’t stop crying. Tears of happiness, and of thanks. She knew how lucky they were. How privileged. And every single day she gave back, to her family, to the community. She helped others any way she could.”
Jacob’s heart was in his throat. He let what she’d said sink in before coaxing her to turn around in his arms. Then he waited for her to look up, meet his gaze.
“When I’m here...when I’m home,” she said, “I always think about swinging from the clouds. I always think about how happy my mother and father were.”
Yesterday on the phone, Jacob had said he couldn’t wait to hold her. Really hold her. This minute, he wanted that more than anything.
He told her that with his eyes and then with his lips. And he didn’t stop telling her until he felt her resistance and doubt ebb away. Until it was just the two of them, standing on a precipice, reaching for the clouds.
* * *
Teagan wasn’t sure what she was thinking. She only knew how she felt. More than anything, that feeling was relief.
Of course this was always going to be tricky. On top of everything else, she’d never brought anyone home to “meet the folks” before. She had never wanted the questions or to face the expectations. She hadn’t even brought Damon Barringer over.
After that breakup—and the miscarriage—Teagan had shut off her feelings. Then she’d met Jacob and knew the time was right to put herself out there again. And being with him was different. Jacob had a certain edge that made her feel new and exciting, and not only in the bedroom.
And now, as his lips brushed and teased hers, she didn’t dwell on why. She simply put her earlier concerns and this disagreement aside, and gave in to being with him again this way. She couldn’t have stopped herself if she tried.
He nipped her lower lip, so lightly she could have imagined it.
“I missed you so much.” He nuzzled one side of her mouth, her cheek. “You feel so good, Tea. So good.”
When his mouth took hers, she leaned in, clung on. And as the sparks grew stronger, her bones turned to jelly and her heart began to pound. The heat of his tongue playing with hers—the subtle pressure of his fingertips toying behind her ear—left her feeling giddy with need. So impatient for more.
He was already slipping the shoestring straps of her jumpsuit off her shoulders. When the kiss deepened and he tugged at the fabric, she left off kneading his chest to get rid of the jumpsuit herself. No bra. Just a pair of lacy boy-cut panties and Keds, which she blindly heeled off and kicked away.
He hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her toward the circular lounge. As he fell back, all contact broke. No one was going to walk past, peep in. Still, Teagan reached for the remote, pressed a button, and the curtains closed across those doors again.
There was still enough natural light to make out his penetrating gaze as he undid each button on his shirt. She came forward, straddled his lap, and then they were kissing again. She took control this time, dragging her fingers back through his hair, caressing his mouth with hers, pressing and rubbing her breasts under his chin.
When she ran out of breath, her lips left his to graze over his jaw to his ear. She whispered, “Are you happy?”
His palms were gliding up over her lace-covered hips. “Trick question, right?”
She took his hand and steered it higher until he was cupping her breast. When he plucked the very tip, she bit her lip to contain the moan. He slid lower until his mouth replaced his hand. Then his tongue looped one way and the other, gently sucking and savoring. All the while, he explored the backs of her thighs, fingers feathering up and down, around and between.
Teagan buried her face in his hair. This was the fantasy she’d had every night since they’d been apart. It was all steam and aching pleasure and breathless anticipation.
Please don’t make me wait.
She might have said the words aloud because he took that moment to release the zipper on his pants. She shifted to get up and lead him to the bedroom, but he reached to tug her close again.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said around a grin.
Straddling him again, she held on to his shoulders, which were steaming through the shirt. “This could get awkward.”
He was looking at her breasts. “Awkward how?”
“Getting your pants out of the way. Mine too. And...other stuff.”
Protection.
But he was already fishing around for his wallet, finding and opening a foil wrapper. Then he bucked up and rolled the condom straight on.
As he kissed her again and her arms wrapped around his neck, he trailed his fingertips up the inside of her thigh before burrowing beneath her panties. She felt his smile tease her lips while he slid the crotch to one side. Then the pad of his thumb began to strum. The strokes grew more precise until he found just the right spot and applied just the right pressure.
As the pulse at her core deepened, she broke the kiss, gripped his shoulders again and pressed in. When she started to quiver, began to quake, he brought her hips down until her inner thighs sat flat against the tops of his and all the breath was pushed from her lungs.
He was inside her...filling her...unbuttoned, unzipped, but still fully clothed, including his shoes.
Through hair fallen over her eyes, she found his lidded gaze. Then she let her head rock back as she slid both her hands up the hot curves on either side of his neck. As he began to pump, he helped her move. Every thrust sent her that much higher...that much closer...until her climax exploded and the world was raining white hot sparks.
Fourteen
Later that evening when Teagan and Jacob strolled into the dining room, she was taken aback by everyone’s expressions. Her stomach pitched and the smile slid from her face.
>
Who died?
Pushing to his feet, Cole waved them over. “We were discussing a few things.”
Taking a seat at the table, Teagan looked around. “Where’s Dad?”
Wynn eyed Jacob before tapping the blade of his knife on the tablecloth. “Eloise rang. She wanted the kids back.”
“We bundled them up, said goodbye,” Cole explained as Teagan and Jacob took their seats. “We didn’t want to disturb you guys.”
“And if they had to go...” A muscle in Wynn’s jaw flexed. “Well, we didn’t want to drag it out for Tate.”
Teagan was stunned. Was she missing something? “Eloise knows this is a family week, doesn’t she?”
Wynn grunted. “I don’t think Eloise knows what day it is.”
Under the table, Jacob took Teagan’s hand. She squeezed back and asked, “Why didn’t Dad just say no?”
Ice clicked as Cole swirled his tumbler. “At this point, he thought it best not to upset her.”
“Doesn’t matter that she upset the kids,” Wynn pointed out.
Cole voiced what everyone was thinking. “God, I wish those two had never met. No. I take that back. We have Tate and Honey.” He took a gulp and smacked the tumbler back down on the table. “This is going to end badly.”
Taryn asked, “You mean with divorce?”
Wynn clarified, “And Eloise scooping up a fortune.”
“Money’s the least of Dad’s worries where she’s concerned,” Cole pointed out. He turned to Teagan. “We’ve just found out that she has a boyfriend slash live-in lover. A Kyle Scafe. Brandon’s running a deeper check on him. Apparently he’s an ex-military man.”
Wynn qualified, “One of those soldiers for hire.”
“Should Honey and Tate be living with any man other than their father?”
Jacob answered Teagan’s question. “Statistics show that minors living with a male not related to them are exponentially more at risk.”
