The Distiller's Darling

by Rebecca Norinne

“If I must.”

  Maybe Noah was right, and she did need a break. She could definitely use a new computer, and the advance from Z Gallery wasn’t going to cut it after the rest of her bills got paid.

  “You’re literally an artist, and NK Designs is the most imaginative name you could come up with?” Max looked at the business card she’d handed him, brows wrinkled dubiously.

  “Words aren’t really my favorite medium,” Naomi said. “Somebody once told me it’s better to use your initials than your full name, because people have all kinds of gender biases when it comes to female business owners. So, I went with it.”

  Max shrugged. “I guess I can’t really argue. My name’s Max and I own a restaurant called Frankie’s.”

  She grinned. “You wouldn’t argue anyway. Drop me an email with what you’re thinking about for your menu redesign and I’ll get you a rough draft.” She was killing two birds with one stone. Max had mentioned getting his menus redesigned a few weeks ago, and since she’d taken Noah’s advice to heart, she’d had him schedule her meeting with his new friend at Frankie’s so she could also talk to Max about the menus. They’d agreed on a price—the friends and family discount, of course—and now she was headed to the booth in the corner, the leather folder she kept her design portfolio in tucked under her arm.

  She’d rather devote all of her time to her clay, but she wasn’t yet a big enough name to not need the additional income. Much as she hated to admit it, putting her degree to use made sense, so when Noah had first asked her to design his labels, she’d taken the time to set up NK Designs as a legitimate business—tax license and all. Her mother would have been shocked, if she’d ever asked about Naomi’s career enough to learn where her money came from.

  Naomi settled into the booth and picked up the menu on the table, perusing it absently. She already knew what she was going to order, but she wanted to take a look at the layout to see what changes she’d be making. Absorbed in her mental note-taking, she didn’t pay attention to the other customers. Noah had said he’d make the introductions, so she didn’t look up until she heard his voice.

  “There you are.” He loomed over the table. Noah Bradstone was a tall man, and solidly built. His friend was pretty much hidden behind him.

  She put on her professional smile. “Hi. Thanks for—” She stopped dead as Noah moved aside, revealing the man who’d been standing in his wake. “Iain?”

  The same man she’d had some of the most incredible sex of her life with three months ago was staring back at her, equally surprised. “Naomi?”

  She drank in the sight of him, clothed in a simple grey henley and jeans that fit far more perfectly than any pair of pants had a right to. His beard was a little less perfectly trimmed than it had been the night they’d met, and his hair stood up in slightly more spiky patterns. But the blue eyes were the same, the laugh lines crinkling in a welcoming smile.

  She forced her eyes away before they could travel appreciatively all the way down his body. She didn’t need to know exactly how well those jeans were cupping the areas she was intimately familiar with. She looked over at Noah, who was smirking. Typical.

  “Is this the friend you wanted me to meet? I didn’t know you knew each other.” She managed to keep her tone professional.

  “I didn’t realize you did,” Noah said. “When could you possibly have met?”

  “Um, at the Founders’ Ball a few months ago.”

  He winced. “Oh, right. Sorry.”

  “You were distracted,” she said with an airy wave of her hand. “Although Angelica told me some stuff about an elevator that was very intriguing.”

  “Never mind.” He paused, eyes narrowing. “I talked to my mom last week, and she said you didn’t stay for the closing toasts.” He looked back and forth between Naomi and Iain, and she could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

  “Never mind yourself,” she said quickly.

  He shrugged. “I’ll just call your brother.”

  “Do it and I’ll call your mother and invite her to come down here and plan your wedding.”

  He rolled his eyes. “If you can get Angelica to agree to a wedding, you can call anybody you want. But I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. Or do I mean re-acquainted?” He walked in the direction of the bar, chortling the whole way.

  “I’m sorry,” Naomi said. “I’ve known him since I was seven. Sometimes I think he hasn’t aged since then.”

  “It’s all right.” Iain folded himself into the booth, the cushion squeaking quietly under him.

  “He should have just given you my card, or just emailed both of us.” Naomi rolled her eyes. “He can’t resist a prank, apparently.” Noah knew her ’type’ perfectly well, since he’d been one of them before he met Angelica. He probably thought he was setting her up on a blind date. Now that he was in love, he wanted everyone else to settle down, too. Even though he knew her opinion on that topic perfectly well. If she could have rolled her eyes further back in her head, she would have.

  “I’ll bet that goes over well at home.”

  Naomi chuckled. “He has calmed down a lot since he and Angelica got together. But she travels half the time to film her show, so I guess he has to take it out on the rest of us. He once replaced all of Max’s shower gel with olive oil.”

  “Joke was on him,” Max said as he arrived at their table and set a plate of tacos down in front of Iain. “I didn’t even notice. Here’s your favorite.”

  “Are you sure the joke’s not on you, for using shower gel in the first place?” Iain asked with a grin.

  “Gets into the nooks and crannies better,” Max responded blithely. “Naomi, you want me to commit crimes against lettuce-kind for you?”

  “Yes, please.” She noticed Iain’s raised eyebrow and explained as Max departed. “He leaves the roasted red peppers off of the salad I usually order for me.”

  “You’re a regular, eh?”

  She nodded toward his plate. “Looks like you are, too.”

  “I’ve only been here a couple of days, but I’m smart enough to know a good thing when I stumble into it.” He glanced from the tacos to her and raised an eyebrow.

  She felt herself growing warm. The double meaning was obvious. “I, ah, brought my portfolio.”

  “Yeah?” He was waiting to eat until her food arrived, she realized as he pulled the folder across the table. How polite.

  “Organized by format,” she said, trying to put her business face back on. “There’s digital assets, print ones, and a couple of full branding packages that included everything from logo design to web graphics plus business cards, flyers, and product packaging.”

  He flipped through the pages, nodding. “This is all really nice.” He looked up at her. “I really liked the label Noah showed me. The wine?”

  “Yeah, that’s actually in here.” She reached across the table and flipped a few pages forward, then tapped the sheet. “See, there’s actually a progression. I’ve been designing his labels for several years now, so you can see how the brand has grown and shifted a bit while still retaining its core identity.”

  “How long did you say you’ve known him?”

  “Since I was seven. Our parents are good friends.”

  If this was a business meeting, she probably shouldn’t get too personal. And if this was going to be a repeat of the night of the gala, she definitely didn’t want to mention that she and Noah had been sleeping together for years—at least until he’d met Angelica.

  Naomi had liked the former actress from the moment she first met her, and she’d done her best to push Noah into realizing that his feelings were real. The little friends-with-benefits thing they’d had going hadn’t been worth giving up on finding what he was really looking for. She was just glad he’d realized it in time.

  And she was even more glad that Angelica had turned out to be the sort of woman who didn’t particularly care about Noah’s past sex life. They’d spent many an evening cheerfully roasting him ov
er a few glasses of his own wine, as he’d rolled his eyes and pretended to be offended.

  Realizing where her thoughts were going, Naomi tried to refocus. Iain was here on business, and she never slept with a one-night-stand twice. It only led to people thinking she was interested in commitment. She’d learned that lesson early on. She didn’t know which was worse—men thinking they were entitled to her time, or her mother thinking she should give it to them. Either way, her policy had stood her in good stead for years now, and she wasn’t throwing it all away for Iain … no matter how gloriously big his hands were. Or other things.

  “What are you looking for?” She leveled her gaze at Iain and hoped it was steady. It was hard to conduct a business meeting with somebody you’d enthusiastically fucked without making everything seem like an invitation. She’d never actually been in this situation before.

  His lips tilted in a tiny smile. “I’m not entirely sure.”

  Well, that wasn’t helpful. She was saved from further trips down Double Entendre Lane by Max’s reappearance. “Here.” He plunked her plate down in front of her. “I hope you know you’re ruining the flavor profile.”

  “Roasted peppers don’t have a flavor profile. They’re just slimy.”

  “Ugh. Naomi, for somebody who grew up extremely fancy, you’re very boring.”

  “Shows how much you know.” She stuck her tongue out at Max. “I’m very exciting. Do you know what’s not exciting? Roasted peppers.”

  He threw his hands up in the air and stalked away, muttering something about missing components and mouthfeel.

  She grinned at Iain. “He hates it when people make substitutions.”

  “I’ve got a mate back home who feels the same way,” he said with a laugh. “Something about how everything on the plate is supposed to work in harmony when you put it all on a fork together.”

  “I could probably just pick the peppers out, but it’s much more fun to annoy him.”

  “Who could blame you?” Iain grinned at her and picked up a taco, taking a healthy bite.

  She dug into her own salad. “I’m so glad we agree.” Now if only she could get her body to agree with her mind that leaping across the table and ripping his clothes off probably wasn’t a good idea, she’d be set.

  6

  Iain couldn’t stop staring at Naomi’s mouth, remembering all the wicked ways she’d used it on him months before. He was having a hard time concentrating on what she was saying about the work she did for companies like his, but that was okay—flipping through her portfolio, he’d already decided to hire her. He’d seen the finished product with Noah’s labels, and everything she’d shown him in the last few minutes put her well ahead of the designers he’d spoken with previously. It was a no-brainer, really.

  Setting his plate to the side, he took a long pull on his iced tea. He twisted the portfolio around and pushed it toward Naomi. “I like the look and feel of these.” He studied the upside-down images for a few more seconds before dragging his gaze back up to find Naomi chewing delicately on her bottom lip.

  She dropped her gaze to the images he’d pointed to, examined them for a few seconds, and then raised her eyes again. All business now, she said, “That vintage-modern look is very on-trend. It harkens back to a time when goods weren’t as disposable as they are now, so people subconsciously equate it with quality. The use of strong, masculine fonts also works well for the spirits industry.”

  Quality. That was something Iain’s father understood, even if he didn’t think his youngest son did. “I’m looking for something that will satisfy my dad and brothers, since I need them to sign off on this venture. But I’d love to hear how you can incorporate some of my sister into the design as well. She’s the genius behind the whiskey.”

  “Oh, I hadn’t realized you had a sister.”

  The only reason Iain knew she had a brother was because he’d met the man. But once they’d left the ball, he and Naomi hadn’t spent the night studying their respective family trees. But perhaps it was time they actually did get to know one another? If he was going to use River Hill as his base of operations, they would run into each other from time to time. Coming back here after his trips up and down the coast was sounding better and better. And if he could persuade Naomi to take him on as a client, they’d be spending a lot more time together. At least he assumed that’s how it worked. This was all new to him.

  Truth be known, he wanted this spirited, unique woman to know him. The real him. Even if it was just for a while. “Two older brothers—Braden and Fionn—and my sister, Maeve. We’re Irish twins.”

  “What’s that?”

  “She was born on January first, and I was born on December thirtieth.”

  Naomi’s eyes bugged out, and she flattened her palms on the tabletop. “In the same year?” she asked, her face displaying her horror at the concept.

  Iain chuckled. For as strained as his relationship with his father had been lately, he couldn’t deny the man was madly in love with his mother—even after all these years. Personally, he didn’t think the whole “until death do us part” thing was for him, but if he were to ever settle down with someone, he hoped he’d be as mad for her as his parents were for each other. “The old man can’t keep his hands off my mother. Half the time, I don’t know whether to be happy my parents are still together or disgusted by how blissful they are.”

  Her brows furrowed, and Iain could tell she was working out the math. “How is that even possible?” She shuddered and shook her head as if to chase away whatever thought had taken up residence there.

  “Different times, I guess,” he answered with a shrug before hailing a waitress for a refill of his iced tea. “If I’m going to think about sex, it’s not my parents I want to be picturing.”

  He let his gaze fall to Naomi’s lips before dragging his eyes back up to meet hers. She looked adorably flustered, and he wondered if she was picturing sex now. Specifically, the sex they’d had. The sex he hoped to have again in the not-too-distant future, if he was honest.

  “Oh right, got it. Yes, of course.”

  “Relax, Naomi. I’m just taking the piss.”

  She groaned and raised a hand to her forehead. “And now I’m picturing your hand wrapped around your dick, and I’m sorry, but that is really not fair.” She leveled a frustrated glare at him. “You’re making it very hard to be professional right now.”

  Iain let his lips hitch to the side with a smirk, and he saw Naomi’s eyes go wide with understanding. Her face reddened, and she pointed at him. “Stop it. You stop it right now, Iain …”

  His first name dangled into the long pause, and he watched her visibly struggle to come up with his surname. Now he was fighting a full-on grin. “You don’t remember it, do you?”

  Her eyes flashed with something that might have been either guilt or annoyance, and she chewed her lip again. God, he loved it when she did that. It reminded him of the face she made when she was close to coming. “I don’t suppose it’s Jameson?”

  “No, sweetheart. I’m not a Jameson.” Iain knew he should be nice and just tell her his damn name, but he derived a perverse sense of satisfaction watching her squirm. To be honest, he couldn’t remember if they’d even ever exchanged last names that night. But this was too much fun not to continue.

  Her eyes scanned the restaurant, and he watched as she tried to see across the room to the bar. “Sorry. Max is all out. He says a new shipment arrives tomorrow.” Of course, Frankie’s stocked Brennan’s.

  She slapped her napkin down. “Okay, fine. You caught me. I can’t remember your damn last name.”

  He smiled and leaned forward, reducing the space that separated them. “Ask me nicely.”

  Naomi gritted her teeth. “What is your last name, Iain?”

  He reached across the table and rubbed his thumb over the top of her delicate-looking hand—the one he knew from experience was anything but. She’d raked her nails down his back the first time he’d made her come, and then
she’d gouged the plaster in the wall above the headboard the second time. Her hands were strong and capable, and he desperately wanted to feel them on his skin again.

  “How about this? You take me back to your place, and I’ll spend the afternoon making you scream it?”

  Naomi opened her mouth to speak, then immediately closed it. She tilted her head to the side and studied him for a couple of seconds. “Here’s the deal,” she said eventually, pulling her hand away and crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t sleep with people I work with. Call me old-fashioned, but I never mix business with pleasure. You can either hire me to do your labels, or you can come back to my house and fuck my brains out. Your choice.” She finished by raising one elegant eyebrow at him.

  Having seen her work, Iain knew what he wanted his labels to look like. But he also knew no woman had made his pulse quicken and his blood run hot and furious through his veins the way this one did. There really was no choice at all.

  He slid from the booth and reached into his back pocket. Pulling out his wallet, he dropped two twenty-dollar bills on the table—enough to cover their lunches, plus a hefty tip.

  “Will losing my business impact your bottom line?”

  Naomi smiled up at him and licked her lips. “Not even remotely.”

  “Then let’s get out of here.” He turned and made his way to the door, knowing deep in his bones—and elsewhere—she’d be right behind him.

  Twenty agonizingly long minutes later, they stumbled through the door of a charming bungalow several blocks from the restaurant, their limbs twined around each other and their mouths fused together.

  Iain kicked the door closed and hoisted Naomi up by her ass, her long, lithe legs wrapping around his waist before he backed her against it. He kissed a path down her jaw to reach the pulse beating violently in her neck. He sucked the dancing point into his mouth and then, moving lower, tongued the frilly lace edge of her bra.

  “Bedroom?” he asked against her soft skin.

  “Down the hall.” Naomi tugged on his belt buckle and then popped the button of his jeans before lowering the zipper. Reaching her hand down the front of his trousers, she cupped him over his boxer briefs and squeezed.