by Nicole Helm
“Yes. That looks store-bought, and here I thought you were Mister Local, twenty-four-seven.”
“They’re made and distributed by a baker in New Benton.”
“Where on earth is New Benton?”
“Far away from the city, Gallagher, but it still falls within the hundred-mile designation for local foods, so I maintain my twenty-four-seven reputation.”
She chuckled as he cut her a slice of pie, and that was when she noticed he also had a file folder under his arm.
“Dessert and business? Those might be my two favorite things.”
“I hope to amend those two tops later tonight.”
She laughed and reached out her hands, making a grabby-fingers gesture. “Give me the folder.”
“Hold your horses.” He kept the folder firmly tucked under his arm as he sliced himself a piece of pie and slid it onto a plate. Taking his sweet time, he sat back down in the chair across from her and placed the folder firmly out of her reach.
“These notes aren’t for you, it’s just my chicken scratch so I don’t forget anything. Nothing formal. Just my terms. I talked to my sister, and there’s a lawyer she knows in California who is willing to look over any contract we negotiate.”
“Can you afford a lawyer?” She realized a little too late she’d offended him by asking that question. But he’d been the one to mention it the other day.
“I’ll handle what I can afford. You just make sure Gallagher’s is being fair.”
“All right. Tell me your terms.”
Carter went through the assurances he wanted and the things he could promise in a contract. Dinah asked questions and tried to analyze it from what she knew of menus and cost and supplies. She’d need to set up a meeting with Simone, Gallagher’s head chef, before they went to the board. She’d need to ensure that Simone was on board and that all the details were ironed out.
“And that concludes the business portion of this evening.” He flipped his folder shut and narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t you dare argue with me.”
“As much as I love business, I suppose I could be encouraged to set it aside for the remainder of the evening. We can continue our conversation tomorrow after I’ve talked with our head chef.”
Something flickered across his expression, possibly uncertainty or something very close to it. She opened her mouth to promise him things would be great, and then she remembered he’d told her not to promise anymore. It was hard not to. Hard not to assure him she could take this on and she could win. Very few people put their faith in her, and she had to live up to the promises—even if they were only promises in her head.
“Let’s go for a walk.”
“A walk? All I have are heels.”
“Just around the farm.”
He held out his hand and she took it, letting him pull her up from the chair. “Around the farm, huh?” Since the farm was a yard, it seemed like an odd request, but she went along with it anyway.
“Sometimes it’s nice to walk around in the semi-fresh air and look at the stars and listen to the sounds of the night.”
“Sirens and car doors slamming and—”
“One of these days I’m going to take you to the country and see how well you like it, city girl.”
Dinah pretended to shudder at the idea of the country. “All that open space and lack of Starbucks?”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head, but he held her hand as they walked through the rows of plants. Even though the space was small, there was something nice and refreshing about walking around on a starry night, seeing all the things he grew. Leaves gilded moon-silver and fruits sparkling. It felt like magic.
He felt like magic. She couldn’t believe it was a magic she got to take part in.
He stopped their progress in a little corner at the side of the house. He reached out and brushed some hair out of her face. Something inside of her shivered in time with goose bumps popping up on her arms.
He had a sweetness and tenderness about him she not only wasn’t used to in men but didn’t quite know how to accept or reciprocate. All those sweet little gestures made her throat close up and nerves flutter around in her chest. She couldn’t remember being very nervous with guys. Not really; certainly not like this.
“You’re very beautiful all the time, but especially in the moonlight.”
“And you are surprisingly romantic,” she managed, though her throat still felt all closed up and tight.
“For a farmer?”
“For a guy.”
He chuckled at that, still drawing his fingers across her face. She leaned into him, even with the jangle of nerves rushing through her. There was still something so enticing about what he could make her feel, nerves couldn’t make her stop.
“Dinah.”
“What?”
“I just wanted to say your name. Your actual name.”
Her stomach flipped and fluttered, so she reached out and stroked the same pattern across his face that he’d been stroking across hers. Bearded and rough, such a strong, rugged face. “Carter,” she murmured.
It was alarming how much she felt. Her heart was jittering, and her breath was ragged. She didn’t feel steady or certain of anything. It was all too much and too big for something so new and potentially fraught.
But no matter the alarm, it was wonderful to feel this way. Amazing to have someone as invested in the possibility of her, as she was in the possibility of him. She couldn’t resist sinking into that feeling and all of the potential that existed between them.
She pressed her mouth to his and let herself be soft and gentle. Which she wasn’t sure she’d ever allowed herself to be. She didn’t try to take charge, and she didn’t try to remember some email exchange they’d made. She just fit her mouth to his and enjoyed the ride.
* * *
Carter didn’t have the first clue what he was doing. But ever since Dinah Gallagher had walked into his life, uncertainty had become part and parcel. She was this bright, otherworldly creature he didn’t know how to resist or control or manage.
So he let himself go, in ways he probably never had in his entire life.
He kissed her like she was the special woman that she was. He didn’t think about all the emails they’d written to each other; he didn’t even think about the things they’d done to each other in the past few weeks.
He savored the taste of her mouth and the feel of her arms coming around him. He allowed himself to take and give in equal measure and he didn’t rush. His mouth cruised over hers as his hands slid up her back. For a few humming, sensual minutes all they did was kiss. Their tongues lightly brushing, their mouths gently touching. There was nothing rushed about it. There was nothing fantasy about it. Because she was Dinah and he was Carter.
His heart beat unsteadily in his chest at that thought, but it still didn’t stop him. Because the magic of Dinah was that no matter how many reasonable, sensible things his brain told him, feeling took over. Feeling won.
He tangled his fingers through the silky strands of her hair and angled her head just a pinch so he could slowly, erotically, agonizingly deepen the kiss, millimeter by millimeter. Fraction by fraction.
She made a little sound in the back of her throat, but she didn’t push any more than he did, a rarity for both of them when they were together. To stall. To languish. To relax into the enjoyment.
Her palms slid up his back, a possessive grip. She had so many opposing forces inside of her—a strong, iron-like certainty in her life; a soft pliancy in his arms.
“Let’s go inside,” he whispered across her mouth.
Her lips curved as her eyes fluttered open. “I suppose we’ve given your neighbors a few too many shows these past few days.”
“So far no one’s complained.” He unwound his hands from her hair, but he wasn’t content to lose that touch. He kept his arm around her shoulders as he led her around back and in through the kitchen.
They walked quickly into his bedroom, never stepp
ing away from each other, never breaking contact.
Real. Honest. Them. Those words were haunting him a bit. Carter and Dinah, possibly the two people they could least afford to be, and yet how did he not afford this? Her?
He walked into the center of the bedroom, then turned to face her. Her hair was mussed, her makeup kissed off, even her usually impeccable clothes were rumpled. “I like you this way,” he murmured, letting his fingers run down the edges of the little blazer-coat thing she wore before he pushed it off her shoulders.
“What way? About to have sex with you?”
“Well, that. In addition to rumpled. Messy.” The jacket fell to the floor.
Her lips curved into that little self-satisfied smirk as she trailed her fingers down his chest. “Funny, I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a suit. Do you own a suit?”
He narrowed his eyes at her, taking her wrists and wrapping his fingers around them. They were narrow, and he could feel the steady thrum of her pulse. “No business talk,” he warned in a low voice.
She pouted, but she didn’t try to free her hands from his tight grip. Instead she pushed up onto her toes and pressed her mouth to his.
This time things weren’t quite so slow, or gentle, but it was still different. Everything about them today was different, and he enjoyed it far too much, because it was going to hurt like hell eventually.
But eventually wasn’t today.
He squeezed her wrists before he released them, and then they were pushing clothes off each other, trying to keep their mouths fused as they did. He nudged her onto the bed, covering her long, soft body with his.
He tasted her everywhere, the sweet wine of her mouth, the soft salty tang of her skin, the musky spice of her pussy. He brought her to orgasm with his mouth, and he rode through said orgasm with a hunger he didn’t know how to fulfill.
She was already reaching for the box of condoms as he kissed up her body, and once he was over her again, supporting himself with the shaky strength of his arms, she slowly rolled the condom onto the pulsing hardness of his erection.
They were both shaking with need, gasping for breath, and still neither of them pushed for a quick finish.
She trailed her fingers down his temple, his cheek, and his jaw. Her eyebrows were furrowed as if she was trying to solve some problem or riddle. He knew the feeling; this felt like both, and yet . . .
And yet, here he was. A beautiful, complicated woman underneath him, touching him with a gentleness that surprised him.
Her gaze met his, her expression morphing into a sheepish smile, and though he had doubts about just about everything else, he didn’t have doubts that they were feeling the same things: too big, too much, too complicated, and not giving a shit.
He sank into her, her legs wrapping around him, her sigh in his mouth. It didn’t make any sense, but deep inside her, connected to her, he didn’t care. He moved, agonizingly slow, enjoying the near painful twist of anticipation as her body met his, again and again.
She sighed, she moaned, she moved, and he watched it all, absorbed it all, wanting Dinah imprinted on his body, his memories, his heart.
Shit.
She wrapped her arms around him, coming apart in his arms, his name on her lips. It was that whisper, his name, her that culminated in his own rushing release.
They held on to each other as if that was all it would take to solve the million complications that surrounded them. With Dinah in his arms a supportive relationship and business success seemed infinitely possible. Carter figured he could let himself believe in that for a little while.
Chapter 14
Dinah had a plan. God help anyone who tried to stand in her way. Including the frustrating man in front of her.
A man she was more than a little terrified she’d fallen in love with. Every time that little thought pushed into her head, she shoved it right back out. Because love took time and trust and . . . time.
She tried not to think about how time hadn’t helped her parents any, but maybe they’d never loved each other. Or maybe a midlife crisis could eradicate love.
It didn’t matter. She wasn’t worried about love or her parents, she was worried about the board meeting they were going to be late for if Carter didn’t let her dress him.
“I’m a farmer, Dinah. Board meeting or no board meeting, I’m not wearing a fucking suit. Some decent khakis and a polo are good enough to stand there and nod while you deliver the spiel.”
“You’re going to have to talk. That’s why we’ve been practicing. I’m only giving the opening remarks, you—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it.” He glared at the tie she’d pulled out of his closet. “I’m still not wearing a fucking suit.”
She forced herself not to glare right back at him. She had to be calm and reasonable here. The businesswoman to his . . . little whiny baby.
“Don’t you want them to take you seriously?” she asked, working on a compassionate tone instead of an irritated one.
“If they can’t take me seriously because of my clothes, they’re not going to take me seriously, period.”
Dinah let out a sigh, and he flicked a glance at her. One that clearly recognized how irritated she was despite the fact she was trying to hide it.
She forced herself to smile. “I know this isn’t your favorite—Oh.” It dawned on her then, that he wasn’t being difficult to be a dick, or because he was childish—things she’d begun to worry about.
“Oh what?” he growled.
“You’re nervous,” she returned, true sympathy working through her. She tended to forget not everyone dealt with business presentations routinely, and it might be intimidating.
He glared at her. “No shit.”
“You don’t have to be nervous,” she said, moving toward him. She felt compassionate enough she might even not press the suit issue, though she was a little concerned he could have that kind of influence on her. “I have it all planned out. It’s going to go perfectly.” She rubbed his shoulders and gave him her brightest, surest smile.
“You aren’t nervous at all?” he asked incredulously.
Okay, that probably wasn’t quite true, but going into the lion’s den meant affecting a certainty, a surety. Any nerves had to be ruthlessly buried in confidence. “I have a sense of purpose, and you should too. We both believe in this proposition, right?”
He took a deep breath and she was almost afraid he’d say no, that he was just doing it for her, which might be the most awful possibility she could consider.
And made it all the more imperative she succeed at convincing the board that working with Carter would be a better alternative than paving his farm over.
“Look, I don’t mean to play the woe-is-me card, but like I said, I’ve wanted a lot of things in my life, but I’m not so used to getting them.”
“You never had me on your side.”
He chuckled and shook his head. She wanted to give him a reassuring hug. She wanted to press her lips to his. She wanted to tell him . . .
Focus, Gallagher.
“I’m not going to do the suit, not because I’m being difficult, but because I won’t be able to concentrate on what I have to say if I’m that uncomfortable. Fair?”
She gave a little nod. She didn’t like it, but it was fair. To her it made more sense to do the uncomfortable thing if it would present a clear, professional image.
Sure, the board would likely expect a farmer to show up in jeans and a dirty T-shirt, and Carter’s attempt at business attire was a step up from that. She wanted to prove to every single person on that board there was so much potential in this man.
She knew most of the board members, and they would almost unanimously roll their eyes at a guy who’d plowed over his yard to create a farm, but she needed to show them how genius and right it really was.
There was so much at stake, and she’d always believed that one’s appearance, as the first impression, was an important first step to success.
She gave
him another once-over with a somewhat critical eye. He’d trimmed his hair and his beard and he looked a little bit more groomed than usual. She was surprised to find on a personal level she preferred the wilder, more unkempt look he usually went with. Of course, Carter seemed to be an expert at being the opposite of what she usually found attractive.
She smiled to herself. Even in the suitable khakis and black, nondescript polo shirt, he made her chest ache a little. He was handsome. Maybe not slick-businessman handsome, but he had an elemental authenticity to him she couldn’t help but admire.
This was going to be fine. They just had to follow the plan and it would be totally, 100 percent fine.
“We should probably head over. I want to get set up before all the board members get there.”
“All right.”
“You don’t have to look quite so much like you’re about to walk death row,” she said, completely, inexplicably charmed by his reticence.
“I’m presenting a business proposition to a board of Gallaghers who have thus far only sniffed around to buy my land. Trust me when I say, it feels a little bit like I’m a dead man walking.”
“I promise, it’s not going to be like that.”
Carter let out a sigh. “I know this is important to you. I hope you know, for all my arguing and sighing, it’s important to me too.”
The way he could genuinely cut to the heart of things, to lay his feelings or beliefs on the line like that, it never failed to take her breath away. “I do know that.”
“Good. Because I don’t have that thing you do, where you can cut it all down to the most important part. I don’t know how to do the maneuvering. Sometimes I’m just going to be the unpolished me that I am, and I don’t want you to mistake that for not caring.”
His gaze was so earnest. Dinah marveled at how serious this had gotten, so fast. So out of the damn blue, but it was here: her heart constricting, her need for this to work—the partnership, them. “It’ll be fine. I prom—”
“Stop.”
“I know you said no promises, but—”
