“So, what kind of woman are you, Naomi Stallion?” Amusement crossed his face as he waited for her to answer.
Naomi hesitated as she pondered her response. When she spoke, there was something in her seductive tone that struck a nerve, sending a jolt of energy to his core.
“I’m the best thing that will ever happen to you, Patrick O’Brien. And if you kiss me, you’ll never kiss another woman ever again.”
His face lifted in the sweetest smile. He found her confidence sexy as hell, and everything about being with her told him she was probably right. Just thinking about kissing her had him twisted in a tight knot, knowing that one kiss was just a taste of what he wanted.
He nodded. “Well, if you really want to be kissed, I guess I could. I wouldn’t want to let you down,” he said, his deep voice like the sweetest balm caressing her. His breath was warm, gently grazing her face with the faintest scent of ginger.
Naomi laughed. “Is that your way of asking if you can kiss me, Patrick O’Brien?” She took a deep breath, inhaling the beauty of him as her eyes lingered in the stare he gave back.
He shrugged his broad shoulders, his gaze never leaving hers. “May I, Ms. Stallion?” The edges of his mouth lifted, something decadent and enticing in the smile he gave her, and without waiting for her to answer he dropped his face to hers, capturing her lush lips beneath his own. One hand cupped the side of her face as the other pulled her even closer. The moment felt surreal. It was every bit the kiss both of them had imagined, and as his mouth skated gently against hers, it quickly became so much more.
Time dropped and rose like a roller-coaster ride, twisting and turning them both until neither knew if they were coming or going. It stood still, then shot forward like a rocket, the hands on a phantom clock spinning out of control. Adrenaline churned in Patrick’s midsection as he kissed her, and then didn’t want to stop. He pulled her closer, the nearness of her body inciting a rise of heat that threatened to burst into flames somewhere deep in his core. She was a dream come true, the sweetest fantasy realized, and he imagined that if there was such a thing as heaven on earth, then Naomi Stallion was the lock and key holding him hostage in paradise. He continued to kiss her, his mouth gliding like silk against hers. Emboldened, he pulled her even closer, wishing he could tear away the clothes that separated them, wanting to feel her bare skin next to his. When she parted her lips, welcoming his probing tongue, he tasted chocolate and berries and the faintest hint of mint, while heat rained through his southern quadrant in a firestorm gone awry.
When Patrick finally pulled himself away, they had been standing in each other’s arms for quite some time. He gulped air, his breath coming in deep gasps. He clutched her shoulders gently, still unable to release the hold he had on her, his fingers lightly grazing the length of her arms. Her eyes were closed and she panted, her bottom lip quivering. He couldn’t resist the urge to kiss her again, wanting to stop their slight trembling. He pressed his mouth to hers, one quick peck, and then another and another.
“That was very nice,” Naomi murmured at last, the words coming with a rush of warm breath. “You do that really well!”
Patrick laughed as he finally dropped his hands to his sides. “That was better than nice. That was amazing,” he responded. “And thank you for the compliment, but I have to give you credit. I couldn’t have done it without you!”
Naomi smiled, opening her eyes to meet the look he was giving her. She wrapped her arms around her torso, suddenly aware that her nipples had blossomed full and hard, rock candy protrusions that pressed tight against the lace tank beneath her shirt.
Patrick took a step forward but kept his hands to himself, sensing that if he touched her again, leaving would be next to impossible. His fists were clenched tightly as he leaned forward to whisper in her ear.
“You were right. I never want to kiss any other woman again.” He gave her one last peck on the cheek, and as he drew back, winked at her. He reached for his lunch bag. “Good night, Naomi,” he said as he moved to the door.
“Good night, Patrick,” she echoed, still clutching her upper arms with her hands. She moved behind him, pausing in the entranceway as he headed to his car. He turned, tossing up his hand in a slight wave, before he took a seat behind the wheel and pulled out of the driveway.
Naomi watched until he disappeared and then closed and locked the door. With her back against the wall she slid to the floor, drawing her knees to her chest as she pressed her fingers to her lips, which were still heated from his kisses. She would wait a few minutes, she thought, as she stole a quick glance at the grandfather clock at the end of the hall. She would wait just long enough for him to reach home. And then she planned to call him, hoping he would be missing her as much as she suddenly found herself missing him.
Chapter 8
His laugh was gut deep and tears misted his eyes. Patrick suddenly realized it had been too long since he’d been so comfortable, allowing himself to just be. Naomi had him feeling intensely relaxed and it had been some time since he was so at ease. He listened intently as she finished her story.
“So, there we were, five kids sitting in our neighbors’ tree, trying to watch a movie through their back window. It was the best time right up to that moment Nathaniel fell and broke his arm. And every one of us was pissed that he made us miss the ending. We never let him forget it.”
“Sounds like you all were a handful.”
“We are singularly responsible for every gray hair our mother ever had. We were a hot mess when we were all together.”
Patrick chortled. The two had been on the phone for hours. The telephone had become a lifeline of sorts, connecting them to each other two, sometimes three times per day. They started their days on the phone and settled down for the night with further conversation. Neither could begin to imagine what it would be like if they didn’t speak so frequently during their days, since their schedules made it difficult to see each other without some serious advance planning. But that needed to change, and Patrick didn’t have any problem saying so.
“Are you free tomorrow for dinner? I need to see you.”
“I have my inspection tomorrow for my organic license. I’m not sure how long that is going—”
He interrupted her. “Make time, Naomi. I really want to see you.”
“You talk to me every day.”
“I miss that beautiful smile of yours. And I can’t kiss you over the telephone.”
She giggled. “I was wondering when you planned to kiss me again. It really isn’t nice to keep a girl waiting.”
“You’re the one who always has something to do. You work 24/7.”
“I’m building an empire. Work is necessary.”
“You have heard that all work and no play makes Patrick a very unhappy man, right?”
She laughed. “I am not responsible for your happiness, Patrick O’Brien. You’re not going to put that on me.”
“Like hell you’re not! We’ll have to agree to disagree there. If I can’t see you because your schedule is a hindrance to our spending time together, and not seeing you makes me very sad, then you are directly responsible for me not being happy. Now, do better. Dinner tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Fell down and bumped your head today, didn’t you?”
“Six thirty then. I know you can’t wait.”
There was a brief pause before Naomi responded. “You’re right. I can’t wait to see you. So why don’t you pick me up at six?”
“Naomi?”
“Yes?”
“My happy meter just shot up ten digits,” Patrick said, laughing heartily. And then he wished her good-night and disconnected the call.
* * *
Patrick had chosen Valter’s Osteria for dinner. The Italian eatery was one of his favorites, with great food and a casual atmosp
here that reminded him of the Tuscan hills he’d fallen in love with during his first trip to Italy. The chef was a friend and had gone to much effort to accommodate Naomi’s diet. They were dining on a salad of tomato carpaccio, arugula, radicchio, carrots, artichokes, raw portobello mushrooms, bell peppers and fresh burrata cheese in a light balsamic dressing. She’d added zuppa cotta, a soup of cannellini beans, assorted mushrooms and truffles with her meal. He’d selected the gnocchi all’arrabbiata, homemade potato dumplings in a zesty tomato sauce, with his.
Their conversation was flirtatious and engaging as they sat sipping on glasses of an expensive Bordeaux. The day had been a good one for them both and they enjoyed sharing the intimate details as they slowly wound down.
“I was nervous about passing,” Naomi said. “Utah soils are inherently low in organic matter and it could have posed a problem for us. The soil structure and water infiltration are exceptionally poor and it isn’t easy to till. Thankfully, we already grow green manures, so that was a benefit.”
“What’s green manure?”
“It’s a cover crop. Plants that are grown not for harvest, but for the express purpose of incorporating them back into the soil to increase organic matter levels. They help improve the physical condition of the soil, aid in the control of erosion and weeds and prevent compaction. We already had enough dedicated acreage to ready the new land with no problem.”
Patrick nodded. “Well, I wasn’t worried. I knew my baby knew her stuff. They couldn’t help but pass you with flying colors.”
Naomi smiled. “Your baby?”
He reached for his wine goblet and took a sip. He blinked rapidly as he answered, “Did I say that? I don’t think that’s what I said. You must be hearing things.”
With a roll of her eyes, Naomi took a sip from her own glass. “A man with a sense of humor. How did I get so lucky?”
He leaned to kiss her cheek. “Yeah, how did you do that?”
Laughter was abundant, a natural by-product of all that was good and beautiful about their growing friendship. In that moment, both vowed to spend less time on the telephone and more time talking in person. Being in each other’s company felt good, and although neither had said it out loud, being apart had begun to pain them both, a dull ache growing with a mind of its own.
Patrick reached for her hand and gently stroked her fingers. “I thought we could go back to my apartment for dessert. My mother sent me her new album and I’d love for you to listen to it with me.”
“Your mother amazes me. She’s like this Yoruba goddess, Jackie Brown superhero in a Tina Turner body with a Whitney Houston voice.”
He laughed. “She’s definitely a handful.”
“I’ve been watching those videos you sent me and she gives me life! I just love her energy and spirit.”
“She feels the same about you. She can’t wait until you two can meet.”
“Have you been talking about me again?”
“Every chance I get!”
Naomi laughed with him as she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his. The kiss was heated, a light brushing of flesh against flesh that ignited a slow-burning flame within them. Both were grinning broadly when she sat back, breaking the connection, promises gleaming from their gazes. Finishing their meal, they chatted easily for a few minutes more, then Patrick gestured to the waiter for the check. As he did so, he saw the Perry family coming through the door, standing in wait for a table of their own.
Garrison was with his sisters, Giselle and Georgina, and their mother, Grace. Nolan Perry was nowhere to be seen and Patrick suddenly found himself grateful for that small favor. There was no way for them to make an exit without running into each other, and no way he couldn’t speak when they did. It would be bad enough for Naomi already, but running into Nolan, too, would have made a bad situation even worse.
Garrison saw him before he had chance to warn Naomi, calling his name loudly from the other side of the room. Patrick shook his head as he locked gazes with her. “I’ll just say hello and then we’ll get right out of here,” he said softly, passing his credit card to the young man who’d finally come with their check.
Naomi took a deep breath and then a second. “It’s fine,” she responded. She had stolen a quick glance toward the door when she saw him staring there anxiously. Garrison was loud and obnoxious, the women beside him seeming indifferent and annoyed in the same breath. She knew of his sisters, the reputation of the Perry girls preceding them. From their debuts to their socialite antics they were well-known in the community. But this was the first time Naomi had ever seen their mother. Mrs. Grace Perry had stayed out of the limelight, preferring to pursue her philanthropic efforts with as little fanfare as possible. If it wasn’t for her striking resemblance to her children, Naomi would never have known who she was.
As Naomi dropped her cloth napkin to the table and rose to her feet, Garrison was suddenly at her side, the Perry women following close on his heels. The two men greeted each other warmly, bumping shoulders in a one-arm embrace.
“Naomi, it’s good to see you again,” the man said, staring at her intently. “Patrick didn’t tell me you two were seeing each other. It would have been nice if we could have all dined together.”
Naomi smiled, her head tilting slightly in greeting. “Garrison. Hello.”
He grinned back as he gestured to the others. “Let me introduce you to my family. These are my sisters, Georgina and Giselle, and my mother, Grace Perry. Ladies, this is Patrick’s new friend, Naomi.” His intentional emphasis on the word didn’t go unnoticed and suddenly three pairs of eyes were studying her closely.
Patrick had stepped closer to her side, easing an arm around her waist. He gave them all a bright smile. “Hi,” he said, tossing the younger two women a look. “Hello, Mrs. Perry.”
Grace looked from one to the other. “Patrick, darling, how are you? We’ve missed seeing you at the house.”
“I’m doing very well, thank you. I hope you are.”
She nodded, then turned her attention to Naomi, extending her hand in greeting. “It’s very nice to meet you, dear. Patrick is family, so any friend of his is a friend of ours.”
Naomi noted the row of diamond rings that adorned her manicured fingers as they shook hands. The woman was pristine, the designer suit and red-bottomed heels she wore complemented by her shortly cropped hairstyle, diamond stud earrings and meticulous makeup. She reminded Naomi of a blonde Audrey Hepburn, polished and exceptionally refined. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Perry.”
“Are you from this area, Naomi?”
She nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Born and raised.”
“What was your family name, dear? I might know your parents.”
Naomi shot Patrick a quick look before she answered. “Stallion. My mother was Norris Jean Stallion.”
There was a split second of reflection and then a moment of recognition. A sudden chill rose like a damp mist between them, the tension abruptly palpable. Grace Perry’s eyes widened, saline pooling at the edges. Her jaw tightened as she gritted her teeth, and one hand flew to her chest, a fist clenched between her breasts. The moment was suddenly awkward and everyone noticed.
Garrison eyed his mother curiously, his brow furrowed. “Mother? Is something wrong?”
Grace shook her head and waved a dismissive hand in his direction. “Norris?”
Naomi only nodded, feeling herself leaning into Patrick’s side as his arm tightened around her waist.
“I was very sorry to hear about your mother passing. You have my condolences.”
Naomi nodded again. “Thank you.”
Grace forced a smile to her face. “Well, you two enjoy your evening.”
Georgina stepped forward. “Are you two just arriving? Or leaving? Would you like to join us?” she queried, her eyes skating from one to the o
ther. Her smile was inviting as she and Naomi eyed each other curiously.
Grace bristled ever so slightly. “Georgina, these two are on a date. I’m sure they don’t want us intruding.” She moved forward, wrapping her arms around Patrick. “Don’t be a stranger, dear,” she said as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. And then, to everyone’s surprise, she hugged Naomi, pulling her into a tight embrace that she held just long enough to make Naomi uncomfortable. Stepping out of her arms, Naomi didn’t miss the tears that teased the woman’s long lashes.
“It was nice to meet you, Naomi,” Grace said softly. She cut a glance toward Patrick and gave him a wink. “And he’s one of the good guys. You’ve done well for yourself.”
Patrick laughed. “Actually, I’m the one who’s done well. Naomi is an incredible woman. I’m a very lucky man.”
Grace smiled. “I’m very happy for you both,” she said.
The hostess interrupted the conversation, indicating their table was ready.
“Enjoy your dinner,” Patrick said, as Grace turned and headed to the other side of the room, Georgina following on her mother’s heels.
Garrison slapped him on the back, his voice dropping an octave. “Enjoy your dessert,” he said smugly as he gave Naomi a perverse look, licking his lips salaciously.
The look she gave him back said she clearly wasn’t amused. She turned her back to the man as she reached for her purse, which was resting on the tabletop.
“That’s not cool, Garrison,” Patrick snapped. “Show some damn respect.”
The other man laughed. He held up both hands as if he were surrendering. “I didn’t mean any harm. My apologies, Naomi. Sorry, bro.”
Naomi gave him another look, but didn’t bother to respond.
“I’m still interested in buying that land you stole out from under me. Maybe we could have lunch next week and talk about you selling it to me?”
She shook her head. “It’s not for sale. Not now. Not ever.”
His stare was suddenly cold, his eyes narrowing into thin slits. “Everything is for sale for the right price. An astute businesswoman like you should know that.”
Sweet Stallion Page 8
