by Amy Knupp
“So what brings you back to Nashville?” Sierra asked Mackenzie.
“My job,” Mackenzie said. “I work for a company that plans exotic honeymoons, and we’re opening a Nashville office, in a manner of speaking. I’ll be working from home to start with.”
“Exotic honeymoons,” Sierra said animatedly as she raised her brows at Cole. “Tell us about that.”
Mason and Gabe heckled Cole about weddings and honeymoons from behind while Drake shook his head with a grin. In truth, Drake had never in his life seen Cole looking so…beyond content. As he sat there, entwined with the woman who’d captured his heart, he seemed happy on a soul-deep level.
“We get a lot of Hollywood clients, as well as tech industry,” Mackenzie said. “We’re hoping to tap into the country music world with the Nashville branch.”
“Think high-dollar, over-the-top stuff,” Drake said, taking the chair next to Mackenzie. “Diva celebrities and socially inept billionaires and what have you.”
“And the occasional genuinely nice, down-to-earth person who has a very specific idea of what they want for a honeymoon and a large budget to pay for it,” Mackenzie said cheerfully. “I’ve worked with all types. So what about you two?” She aimed the question at Sierra and Lexie since she already knew the brothers worked for the family business. Drake had given her a rundown on the way over—Mason was the CEO, Gabe the VP of Human Resources, and Cole was a special projects manager who dealt with new properties for the company, overseeing remodels and construction. Zane, Drake’s twin, was in the Navy, currently deployed. She accepted a glass of wine from Mason, who then delivered Drake’s microbrew and took a seat.
Sierra’s brown eyes sparkled with friendliness—and the same unmistakable contentment as Cole—as she replied, “I own a remodeling company that specializes in historical renovations. Anything from houses to commercial buildings.”
Mackenzie’s brows rose and she broke out into a smile. “Girl power. I love it.”
“What she fails to mention is that she’s also a television personality,” Faye piped up proudly from the counter.
“What?” Mackenzie leaned forward, her eyes widening with interest. “You’re on TV?”
“On a cable network,” Sierra said modestly. “My company won a competition to remodel William Eldridge’s mansion that was built in the early 1900s. Part of the prize is that the project is featured on a show on one of Eldridge’s networks.”
“For an entire season,” Cole said, beaming. “And then, once the mansion is done, they’ll follow her company’s projects for the next TV season as well. My girl is a TV icon.”
Sierra laughed and shook her head at Cole.
“That’s impressive,” Mackenzie said.
“These two just got engaged during the recording of the show,” Drake explained to her. “The night you flew in.”
“On the show? As in, live video?”
“Video, yes, but not live,” Cole said. “I’m not sure I would’ve been brave enough if it’d been live.”
“You would’ve done it anyway,” Mason said confidently.
“Has it been shown on TV yet?” Mackenzie asked.
“No. They haven’t told us the air date yet,” Sierra said. “I’ve never been so shocked in my life. This guy, this afraid-of-being-on-camera guy, burst into the middle of the fireplace episode and went down on one knee.”
“That’s so romantic,” Mackenzie said with a wistful look in her eyes.
“Cole’s set a precedent,” Faye said as she came over to the table and set out a plate of veggies and dip. “His brothers have a lot to live up to.”
“Oh, Mom, how do I break this to you?” Gabe called out from the kitchen sink as he washed his hands.
“Not gonna happen,” Mason said.
“The grandchild burden’s one hundred percent on Cole,” Drake added.
“Fools. Every one of you.” Cole leaned over and kissed Sierra, obviously trying to make a point.
Their mom sighed. “A mother can always hope.”
“So what constitutes an exotic honeymoon?” Mason asked Mackenzie.
“From what I’ve gathered, a six-figure budget,” was Drake’s answer.
“Not technically,” Mackenzie said, “but the majority of the trips do end up with a high price tag. A lot of the people who use our company are those who are used to demanding whatever their heart desires and getting it, at whatever price. But it’s the best job ever.”
“It sounds like it,” Lexie said. “Tell us about some of the trips you’ve coordinated.”
“Let’s see. All seven continents—”
“Antarctica?” Sierra said with a glance at Cole, who said, “We’re not going to Antarctica.”
“Penguin watching and sea kayaking are in higher demand than you’d think,” Mackenzie said. “There’s the riads—kind of like a private palace—in Morocco and exploring the markets and the medieval buildings, or a private diving and snorkeling sail on a schooner through Indonesia’s Raja Ampat archipelago, or you could stay in a luxury tent on a safari in Botswana.”
“Just for starters,” Drake said. He’d traveled plenty in his life, but the trips Mackenzie had described in the past couple of days blew his mind and made him realize he hadn’t seen nearly enough of the world.
“I’d choose something with a private beach,” Sierra said. “A safari would be cool, but I don’t see myself in a tent among the wildlife in Africa.”
“I’d want to see the gorillas in Uganda,” Gabe said.
“They have one at the zoo,” Drake told him.
“I’m afraid to ask how you know that.” Gabe carried the platter of raw meat into the dining area, heading for the door to the deck and the grill.
“The zoo is a great place to take a date,” Drake told him. “You know, in case you ever get one.”
“You might want to remember I’m cooking your dinner,” Gabe said cheerfully as he opened the door and went outside.
“Lexie’s getting married too,” Mason said. “What are you and Raleigh planning for your honeymoon?”
“We’re going to Europe,” Lexie said. “My vote was for something shorter and closer to home, like Colorado, so I could take more time off work the week before the wedding, but I’m sure Europe will be amazing.”
Drake couldn’t help but wonder what kind of a schmuck dictated a honeymoon location instead of trying to please his wife-to-be.
“What kind of work do you do?” Mackenzie asked.
“I’m a landscape architect,” Lexie said.
“She’s going to redo Mom’s backyard as a weekend project,” Drake said. “It’s been the same since we moved into the house. It’s tired.”
“Mature,” Lexie corrected kindly.
“It needs some new life,” Faye said. “Lexie’s going to work her magic.”
“So houses and landscaping,” Mackenzie said to Sierra and Lexie. “Do you two ever work together?”
“Lexie’s company is giant,” Sierra explained, “and I’m just a small fish, so no. But maybe someday…”
“It’s intriguing to think about,” Lexie said.
“Definitely,” Sierra said. “In the meantime, we three girls should go out sometime. Soon. Mostly for fun, but if we go to Clayborne’s, I might be able to introduce you to some country music types, Mackenzie. Sloan McGuire is the entertainment manager there, and she’s very connected. Her boyfriend is Micah Sullivan, who’s the drummer for Steele Hearts.”
“I love Steele Hearts.” Mackenzie was leaning forward, her elbows on the table, nodding frequently and enthusiastically.
“Then you’re in for a treat,” Sierra said. “I’m also friends with Gin Verdinelli, who’s engaged to Tucker Steele, the lead singer. There’s a recording studio on Hale Street, where I live. It’s kind of a small world.”
“I’d love to go out with you two, with or without the business potential. It’s been years since I lived here, and I don’t really know anyone in town anymore
,” Mackenzie said.
“I’m in,” Lexie said. “My fiancé is out of town this week, so I wouldn’t even need to coordinate with anyone.”
“I’ll check my production schedule and you two see what evenings could work for you,” Sierra said. “Clayborne’s is at the corner of Peach Boulevard and Hale Street, near downtown.”
Mackenzie’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “My schedule is open. It sounds fantastic.”
“You girls will have a great time,” Faye said as she brought a multicolored stack of plates around to the table.
“Someone needs to warn the surrounding businesses these three are on the loose,” Cole said, sliding the plates toward himself and standing up to set the table. “Have a seat, Mom.”
Gabe walked back in from the grill, set the empty meat plate on the breakfast bar, and sat next to Mason.
“So Mackenzie, can you tell us any of the famous people you’ve worked with?” their mom asked as she lowered herself to the head of the table. “Anyone we’ve heard of?”
“Wait till you hear who she’s currently planning a trip for,” Drake said. He met Mackenzie’s gaze. “Is it okay if I say her name?”
“Ellie’s? Of course. As long as we keep the details to ourselves.”
His mom made an excited humming sound. “Ellie? Do you mean Ellie Grant?”
“I do. You must be a fan,” Mackenzie said.
“No way,” Sierra said, leaning back into Cole’s side as he put his arm around her.
“I adore her,” their mom said. “She seems like a wonderful person, at least in the media.”
Mackenzie pointed her index finger, as if to say she’d hit the truth. “She is in person too. Drake’s helping her out on a project himself, so he can tell you.”
“My youngest son apparently doesn’t tell me anything,” his mom said, leaning onto the table expectantly.
“It just happened in the last two days,” Drake said, “and it’s not really a big deal. I’m helping Ellie outfit a brand-new home gym.”
“You’d be good at that,” Faye said.
“She wants him to be her personal trainer too,” Mackenzie said, and Drake frowned at her.
“All she has to do is join my gym,” he said lightly. “I can train her to her heart’s content.”
“So you’re helping her with a home gym?” Cole asked. “Like, construction?”
“Not at this point, though if she wanted that, I’d know who to call. I’m just helping her decide on equipment and then ordering it for her. Which reminds me”—he addressed Mason—“why in the hell don’t we have a home fitness line at North Brothers?”
“We do,” Mason said. “We sell all kinds of home fitness equipment.”
“I’m not talking about mini trampolines and yoga mats. I mean cardio equipment. Weight machines. The big-ticket items.” Drake scooted his chair back and crossed a leg. “I’ve spent the weekend looking for a single supplier who has the brands I want all in one place. Someone local who offers competitive pricing. Money might not be an issue for Ellie Grant, but why should she pay more than she has to?”
“We’ve avoided getting into it because it’s a big undertaking, and frankly, it’s a little different market.”
“Different, maybe, but it’s a giant market, and only growing,” Drake said. “And so is personal training. You could offer it all under one division. Maybe even home gym construction. A one-stop shop, so to speak.”
Mason narrowed his eyes at Drake, the way he did when he was in business mode. “Intriguing idea. Why don’t you put together some thoughts on it for me. Send me some bullet points.”
Oh, Drake had lots of thoughts. They’d been brewing all weekend as his frustration at not finding what he was looking for mounted. “Sure thing. I’ll see what I can come up with this week.”
“You do that. By Friday?” Mason said.
Drake shrugged. “Friday’s fine. But only ideas. I’m not getting involved beyond that.”
Mason sized him up, then shared a look with Gabe, who was Mason’s family cohort in all things upper management. Drake ignored it, because it wasn’t his problem. He was certain enough that North Brothers Sports needed to get involved in exercise equipment that he would give Mason the info he’d requested, and that was that.
Chapter Seven
It wasn’t uncommon for Drake to go home for a dinner break from one of his jobs, as he was tonight. Grabbing some fast food would be easier, but he avoided putting crap food in his body whenever possible and preferred to throw something together in his kitchen. Apparently Mackenzie wasn’t yet familiar with his tendencies, though, because if she had been, he never would’ve found himself in this situation.
As he came down the hall that angled from his front door toward the kitchen, he was happily surprised to discover she was there in the apartment, as her open bedroom door treated his senses to a steamy cloud of fragrant bath products from a recent shower and he could hear racket coming from the kitchen. Another handful of steps to the kitchen had him halting abruptly. His greeting got caught in his throat.
Mackenzie stood at the refrigerator with her head sticking inside of it, in profile to him, wearing nothing but a dark blue bath towel tucked under her arms and barely reaching to the tops of her thighs. Her slender thighs that would wrap around a guy just so. The towel gaped slightly at the bottom on the side facing him, gifting him with a view of silky-looking skin near her hip bone that made his mouth go dry and his blood pound southward.
Some distant part of his brain knew he should do something besides stand there and take in the glorious sight of her, but he couldn’t make himself either back out of the kitchen or say something to alert her to his presence.
As she reached up to the top shelf, her wet hair swung down the back of her neck, hitting just below her shoulders. Her delicate bare arm garnered his attention, and then he couldn’t help but notice the way the towel was tucked in at this side of her breast, the swell of it barely visible. Just one little corner of material held it all together…
Drake swallowed hard, imagining how little it would take to undo it and let the towel fall to the floor, revealing every last inch of her.
She straightened with a bottle of Chardonnay in her hand, pulling her head out and affording him a glimpse of her collarbone. When she turned enough to notice him, she let out a short screech of surprise. She set the bottle down hard on the counter as she whipped earbuds he hadn’t previously noticed—sue him for looking everywhere else first—out and let them dangle around her neck.
“You startled me,” she said.
“Didn’t mean to,” he managed, noticing her phone on the counter, connected to the earbuds.
“I was just getting a glass of wine to sip while I get ready,” she said unnecessarily, and Drake nodded. “Sierra and Lexie and I are going to Clayborne’s.” She took in a deep breath—which, he couldn’t help noticing, made her chest rise and fall enticingly—and straightened, as if bolstering her confidence. In his opinion, she should have every ounce of confidence in the world. He didn’t remember ever having a woman literally steal his breath, either clothed or unclothed, but that’s exactly what this mahogany-haired beauty did. “I didn’t expect you to come home so early.” She turned to the cabinet to take down a wineglass, as if she wasn’t three-quarters naked in his kitchen, and then set the earbuds on the counter by her phone.
“I gathered. I’m here for some food. Dinner break.” He cleared his throat and attempted to follow her lead and act normal. Water, he decided. A big glass of water, because shit, his throat was parched. He went to the cabinet, took out a glass, and filled it at the spigot in the fridge, which put him right next to Mackenzie as she poured her wine.
“Shoot!” She hopped back from the counter as the bottle knocked into the glass and tipped it over, spilling some. The bottle wobbled, and Drake reached out to right it but instead sent it toppling onto the counter. Mackenzie shot her hand out, trying to prevent the glass f
rom rolling off the edge but failing.
At the same time, the corner of her towel came untucked, and the whole thing started to slide down her chest, inch by inch, as if in slow motion as Drake’s eyes locked onto it. She threw her arm to her chest at the last second, but not before he caught sight of the rosy outer edge of one tantalizing nipple.
“Good reflexes,” he said stupidly, hoping to cover his disappointment and then silently scolding himself for being disappointed.
“I’ve had lots of practice at trying to stop mishaps as they happen,” Mackenzie said, grinning self-deprecatingly, the slightest hint of a blush spreading over her cheeks. It was the same rosy color as her—
Dammit. Quit it.
“This is why I always drink white,” she said. “It doesn’t always stay in the glass.”
Drake belatedly registered that the wineglass had shattered at her feet, and he looked down to verify it and saw that her feet were bare. “Don’t move.”
“Yeah,” she said, glancing around her, as if judging where she could step that was safe.
“Nope,” he said, and without thinking—because, damn, if he’d been thinking, he would have done something different, anything different—he swept her into his arms, one arm under her knees and one supporting her shoulders, eliciting another surprised shriek from her.
“Drake!” she said, laughing and, sadly, holding her towel tightly to her body.
Scratch that. Not sadly. Wisely.
Fuck, his brain was scrambled right now, as he inhaled the scent of her and felt her smooth, bare leg beneath his fingertips. He fought to keep his gaze from roving to the bottom of the towel to see how far it traveled up, or to the top of it to see if it crept downward again, because he was trying to do the right thing and not act like a desperate, turned-the-hell-on man.
He swallowed, gathered his self-control, and carried her to the other side of the kitchen island, then set her down carefully, making sure not to let his hand trail any farther up her thighs in the process.
