Recipe for Attraction

by Gina Gordon

  Unfortunately, she knew one of his.

  Given his family connections, the tabloids would have a field day if his newfound extracurricular activity got out. He had too much on the line right now to risk a scandal in the media. His new restaurant was practically complete and the new Madewood Foundation his brother Jack formed last year was knee deep in fundraising initiatives. Not to mention, he couldn’t risk his family finding out about his need for danger.

  That would end in a family confrontation that he wasn’t up for.

  Carson Kelly could not reveal his secret. And he’d do whatever it took to keep her quiet.

  Chapter Two

  Carson studied the drawings, unable to take in any of the information staring back at her.

  Only a few more days until this project was done. It had taken thirteen months, but it was finally complete. The construction of the Madewood Farm was her most elaborate—and most difficult—design of her career. This was going to be the one to secure her the title of Lead Architect for Kelly Designs. Her father was retiring and who better to take over than his own flesh and blood?

  Not that he shared Carson’s point of view on that issue.

  She placed her crayon on the table and shifted in her seat, staring out the panoramic window, in awe of the structure she had designed. On this ten-acre property, she had constructed a state-of-the-art fine dining restaurant that overlooked a pond with an actual working water wheel. Beside it, a rustic structure had been renovated and enlarged to become the gourmet foods store and bakery.

  At the top of the property was a barn that she’d gutted and restored, turning it into an event space. The rest of the land had been landscaped and ploughed to accommodate a picnic area, while also making the berry and apple orchards accessible for seasonal picking.

  But for the first time in a long time, work was not the topic in control of her brain.

  She couldn’t get the image of Neil Harrison out of her mind.

  Stupid, infuriating man. Stubborn, obnoxious…hot-bodied and sexy.

  She grabbed the sides of her white hard hat, required gear on active construction sites, and shook off her thoughts. She couldn’t even be angry at him without thinking about how hot he was and he’d taken that hotness to the next level last night, idling at that start line. A vision in leather and dark jeans. She’d never seen him in anything but a suit, which made the mysterious black ink that peeked out the collar of his shirts out of place. But for the first time, that tattoo made perfect sense. Knowing what she did about his extra-curricular activities, that ink now fit with his character.

  When he had won, she barely stopped herself from jumping up and shouting. Never more than last night had she wanted to throw herself at Neil and drag him off to a secluded area.

  She sighed, thinking about Neil’s kiss. Her body vibrated with the memory.

  She’d suspected his interest in racing for some time but it wasn’t until yesterday her fears were confirmed. She couldn’t sit on the sidelines once she realized Neil was actually going to compete. She should have just left it alone. What Neil Harrison did with his own time, whether he was endangering himself or not, was not her concern.

  Carson couldn’t lie. She was just as interested in the Madewood family as the rest of the female population. Vivian Madewood had been a staple socialite and a class act. By default, Neil, and the three other boys she had rescued from foster care—Finn O’Reilly, Cole Murphy, and Jack Vaughn—became famous. Even more so when Neil’s youngest brother Jack came of age and took to the party scene, making their family name infamous.

  It wasn’t an everyday occurrence that four teenagers were taken in by a woman richer than a Saudi Sheik. Carson would think someone in Neil’s position would be a little more appreciative, a little less obnoxious and entitled. But Neil Harrison slipped into the role of rich douche bag so effortlessly.

  She hadn’t planned for a confrontation last night, but it had happened. And it had gone exactly how she would have expected. Their mutual dislike for one another had won out. But in between their exchanges of sarcasm and disdain, Neil Harrison’s scrutinizing stare was unnerving. As if he saw through her. As if he knew her secret—the one she’d spent years fighting to keep hidden.

  But she knew his secret. She still didn’t have a clear answer as to why he raced last night but she recognized all too well the darkness that emanated from his eyes. She knew firsthand how easy it was to let the darkness take over, to let the speed of the road engulf you, suck you in until you’re so deep it’s impossible to climb back out.

  Her heart went out to him, something she never let happen, to anyone, for any reason. But something about the loneliness in Neil’s eyes spoke to her.

  “You don’t look like you’re concentrating hard enough.”

  The thick sound of her father’s voice wafted from over her left shoulder. She turned slowly, mentally preparing herself for criticism. It was inevitable. It’s what he did best.

  “Hi Dad.”

  As usual, Carson Kelly II wore a suit topped off with his steel-toed boots and black hard hat. The fact that his current surroundings were a working construction site did nothing to deter him from dressing in anything less than Hugo Boss.

  “Late night?” His right eyebrow lifted with his question as he took a seat next to her.

  Did she look as bad as she felt?

  “Sort of. Not feeling so hot today.”

  “There is no room for feeling sick on this project, Carson.”

  “I know, Dad.” As if he didn’t remind her every day since they broke ground.

  In an uncharacteristic gesture, he smoothed the hair away from her face and stared deeply into her eyes.

  “You remind me so much of your mother.” She took that as a compliment. Her mother had been a classic beauty.

  For a split second, sadness darkened his eyes, but just like he always managed to do, he turned a compliment into a jab. “Although the years are not being kind to you.”

  At least today he criticized her appearance rather than her work ethic or design abilities.

  Carson rolled her shoulders back, pulling away from his touch. “What can I do for you, Dad? Why are you here?”

  “Just wanted to see how things are wrapping up.”

  She scoffed silently. “Right on schedule. One final inspection and we’re done.”

  She had been the lead on this project from the beginning. Her concept. Her design. And it was the best work she had ever done. It had to be. She was competing for the top designer spot in her own father’s firm and there were no such thing as special favors. Not even for his own daughter.

  He leaned in, examining her plans for her next project. She was still in the concept design process—in her mind, the most important step.

  “Have you thought about using columns in the entrance?”

  Designing space was a creative and always-changing process. It was an architect’s job to question. To play that what if game even when it led you right back to your original idea. And she could play the game—with anyone but her father. When her father questioned, it was personal.

  “Yes, I thought about that but I am leaning more toward a circular design. I don’t want to take away from the height of the ceiling.”

  He nodded.

  Carson played with the crayons on the table then folded her hands over her drawing. She liked to design her concepts in crayon. She found it brought her back to a time when drawing was fun and perked up her creative juices. “Do you want to tell me why you’re really here?”

  He turned to face her. His eyebrows knit together in worry. “We have that meeting next week with Bower Industrial.”

  Finally, the truth behind his visit. “I have that meeting next week with Bower.”

  “Are you prepared? We can’t let this contract slip through our fingers. I can only do so much when I’m not the lead designer.”

  Her father had suffered a major heart attack almost two years ago and the doctor had given
him a firm ultimatum: cut back on his work, or face another heart attack.

  She remembered the panic-stricken rush to the emergency room and the subsequent visits to the doctor. It all brought back the horror of losing her mother fifteen years earlier, when Carson had spiraled out of control and begged her father for a bike. She challenged the boys at school to race. One thing led to another and she became an unofficial organizer for street races in the city.

  But then one day a motorcycle crashed and burned. One of her racers—her friend, Mike Roberts—died. Accidents happened. Injuries happened. That was all part of the appeal. The adrenaline.

  But death…

  To this day she lived with the guilt that if only she had done something, said something, changed something, her friend would still be alive.

  That night she’d handed the reins over to Diaz, choosing instead to channel all of her rage and self-doubt into architectural design, and never looked back.

  Her father cleared his throat, bringing her back to the present. “Dad, you’re going to have to let go of the reins.”

  “That may be…but I will choose the best man for the job.”

  Kelly Design was a small firm with less than fifteen employees. Only one other designer had the experience to qualify for the lead designer position. Her body shuddered at the mere thought of her competition—Martin Connelly.

  “I’m the one who secured the meeting with Bower. I’m the one who drew up the plans, consulted with the contracting companies. I can handle this.”

  “I’ve seen you like this before, Carson. Don’t think a father forgets when his own daughter was involved in things that are less than honorable.”

  Honorable? The man wouldn’t know honor if it bit him in the ass. He defined the word unscrupulous.

  “I’m not involved in anything. I had a late night, that’s all.”

  “You’ve had late nights all week.”

  “How do you…?”

  “This is how it started last time. Late nights. Longs periods of time that you refused to account for.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t have a life. I have Kelly Designs and I have you.” She thrust her arm at her father. “That’s my life. Too stressed to have fun because I always have you breathing down my neck.” She mimicked him. “Don’t be reckless, Carson. Don’t do anything stupid, Carson. I can’t take it.”

  Shit! She was having a hissy fit meltdown on site where Neil could walk in at any moment and witness her pathetic display. But if her father wasn’t so infuriating, they wouldn’t have been arguing in the first place.

  Her father looked from side to side when she had raised her voice. Most of the workers were outside except for a few that minded their own business. They continued on with their work, but their eyes darted from their task to where she fought with her father.

  “No one’s listening dad. No one cares.”

  Her father gave her a pointed look. “I’d like to be at the Bower meeting. And I think it’s best if Martin comes along as well.”

  The boom of broken concrete being hauled off in the back of a truck sounded behind her. That sound—construction sounds—normally set her at ease. But not right now.

  “What?” The barely register-able anger that simmered below the surface broke through. “If you want to come, I can’t stop you, but Martin? He has no business horning in on my deal.”

  No matter how hard she tried to better herself, no matter how much education she’d received or how successful she’d been with her designs, she feared he would always see her as the hooligan street racer.

  “I understand, but I think it’s best for everyone involved.”

  “I’ve got it covered, Dad.”

  “It’s not up for discussion.”

  She’d learned early and often that her father would have preferred a son. Which was probably why he had latched on to Martin Connelly once he was hired. Her father had pushed her and Martin together with grand plans of matrimony and continuing the legacy of the firm. Carson had indulged her father, for a bit, but it hadn’t taken long for her to figure out Martin’s ulterior motives and she would be damned if she’d let that gold-digger oust her for the promotion.

  “Whatever. I can’t stop you.”

  The bang of the front door caught her attention. Neil strode inside wearing his usual hard-faced expression and perfectly tailored black suit. He wasn’t wearing the proper footwear—as usual—but at least this time he’d put on a hard hat. She only had to remind him every day.

  Her men focused on their work, intent on avoiding Neil’s scrutinizing attention. He stopped in the middle of the restaurant. His hat rested low on his head, blocking his eyes from her view but she knew without a doubt he was analyzing the tiny bit of progress that had been made to the restaurant space since he left last night.

  He noticed Carson and her father and gestured with his chin, his lips curving slightly at her startled expression.

  She remembered what those lips felt like against hers, branding her as if she was his. Her nipples hardened at the memory of his hands on her body.

  She shook her head. Not the right reaction to be having in front of her father. His own scrutinizing ways would pick up on her change towards Neil in a second. With him already on her case, she didn’t need this added to the list.

  “Mr. Kelly? To what do I owe this pleasure of a visit?”

  He held out his hand and her father stood and gripped it.

  “Mr. Harrison. I was just following up with my daughter. When I’m not the lead on a project I like to hold an exit interview. Just my way of assuring quality control. As we only have a few days of construction and the final inspection left, I’d like to schedule that meeting.”

  Neil glanced in her direction. One eyebrow lifted in curiosity.

  “Your daughter has done a fantastic job of designing every single part of my vision. Every day I walk into this space and am reminded of why I chose Kelly Designs in the first place.”

  “Well Kelly Designs aims to please.” Her father gave her a sideways glance, as if doubting the sincerity of Neil’s comment, her abilities.

  “Carson,” he pointed to her, “has been here every day and keeps me up to speed with every tiny detail. I am sure you’ll understand that this is the busiest time for me and I’m sure you’ve put your daughter in charge for a good reason. So you don’t have to deal with the little things, isn’t that right?”

  Carson suppressed a smile. God bless Neil Harrison and his beautifully plump mouth.

  “With all due respect Mr. Harrison, I know you’re a busy man but I would be remiss if I didn’t follow up personally. This is one of Carson’s first jobs on her own and…”

  Eighth. It was her eighth job on her own. Not to mention the numerous jobs she’d done alongside her father.

  “I don’t really think it’s necessary to make Mr. Harrison sit down with you,” she assured her father.

  He shot her a sideways glance. “Very well. If I can’t convince you to meet with me, then my right hand will be along to make sure everything is finalized.”

  Carson fisted her hands at her sides. If there was ever a time when she wanted to punch her father in the face…it was now. He had just embarrassed her. Humiliated her. In front of a client no less. In front of Neil Harrison.

  “I must run along. Mr. Harrison, always a pleasure.”

  They shook hands again and then her father nodded, his usual detached attempt at a goodbye. He turned and walked out the door.

  “I thought your father retired?”

  She sighed. “Officially not until next month. He seems to forget that…often.”

  Neil reached across the table and turned around the concept drawing she’d been working on for her next project. “Who’s this right hand?” She tensed when a weird expression crossed his face. “Sounds like an ass-kisser.”

  She laughed at his astuteness. “You’ll find out soon enough.” She laid her finger on the paper and pulled the
drawing back to its original position. “He’ll be here to check up on me.”

  He smiled. “Don’t you mean meet with me?”

  “Yes.” Shit. She nodded with a little too much vigor. “That’s what I meant.”

  He gave her a curious stare. She was giving too much away. Neil didn’t need to know that she was rattled at her father’s lack of confidence in her. She needed to change the subject, and quick.

  “Why did you kiss me?”

  Wrong topic, Carson. That’s what happened when she was nervous. She failed to filter the words that seemed to just fly out of her mouth.

  Neil stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest, almost as if he had been pushed. He glanced around the site before answering. “We’re not going to get into that here. Now.”

  “We certainly are.” She stepped forward around the table and pointed at his solid chest. “You had no right to kiss me.” Wrong move. He now towered over her, all powerful, masculine energy.

  “I deserved a kiss.”

  Her pulse quickened at his rough voice. No matter the time of day, it always sounded as if he’d just woken up. She found it sexy as hell and completely distracting.

  “Plus you were the only person I knew so I went after what I wanted.”

  She gasped. “You wanted to kiss me?”

  Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say you want to do it again. Carson shook out the thoughts that repeated inside her head.

  “I wanted a kiss. It didn’t necessarily have to be you. And I suspect Hector Diaz wouldn’t have been appreciative if I went after one of his women.”

  She sneered. “I never understood that barbaric ritual. The sex after a race.”

  “What do you know about it?”

  She froze. Again saying too much.

  He shoved his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. “You’re really uptight. You should find a way to get rid of some of that energy.”

  “Like racing?”

  He slipped his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Whatever floats your boat.”

  Despite that kiss, Carson was no dummy. She knew Neil Harrison thought of her as a ball-busting bitch. All work and no play, more argumentative than not. She shouldn’t care. She was hired to do a job—build a multi-million dollar facility—not socialize with the man who paid her to build it.