A Moment of Bliss (10 page)

“Our clients are artistic and eclectic; their friends and families are as well. We'll need a vegetarian option for every meal.”

“Not a problem. We keep vegetarian items on every menu.”

They went on to discuss each menu in detail, debating the pros and cons of items and when to serve.

Madison wrote in her portfolio, her elbow bumping against Roark with every word. He caught himself watching her write, the quick strokes of the black pen, her long, slender fingers. When he jerked his gaze up, he caught his brother and sister watching him.

Sophie smiled and looked away, but Devlin studied him, his expression fathomless, as he spoke. “What about optional entertainment for the guests? They'll be here for two or three days. If they want to do more than sit and read all day, we could have some options available.”

“And add to our list of things to get done?” Roark countered. Because it wouldn't be Devlin organizing the tiny details, it'd be him or Madison or Sophie.

“Do you want a bunch of bored wedding guests on your hands?” Dev cocked an accusatory eyebrow at him. “Because that's what you're going to have with a bunch of big-city businesspeople stuck on top of a mountain for three days. All we need are a few specially arranged activities available.”

“I think we have enough to arrange.”

“I'm not suggesting we plan the Olympic Games, Roark. I'm talking trips into town to the shops, maybe set up a visit to the winery down the road, a tour of the Astor estate.”

“Who has time to arrange all of that and make it happen?”

“Am I the hospitality manager or not? I am capable of doing my damn job, you know.”

“Devlin,” he said. That was it, just his name, but his name was enough to bring wrath to Devlin's eyes.

Madison put a hand on Roark's forearm. “I think a couple of optional outings sound nice. We don't want bored guests on our hands.” She jotted down a few notes. “Devlin, why don't you check on the cost of the things you mentioned, what it will take to make them happen, and get back with me on the details? We'll decide what works best and go from there.”

“I'm happy to.” With a special icy glare just for Roark, Dev pulled out his phone and tapped at it.

Wright, either oblivious to the tension or so accustomed to it that it no longer fazed him, went back to talking about food. “Why don't we do the same for the food? I can work up the dishes we talked about and you can try them. Pick the ones you like best.”

Madison glanced up from her scribbling. “I won't say no to taste testing.” She flipped to another page in her notepad and wrote some more. “Let's try these.” She tore off what she'd written and handed it to Wright.

“Soph can get whatever ingredients I might need on the fly. Can't you?” Wright looked up at her.

“Let me see the list before you go committing me to finding a blowfish vendor.” She leaned over, playfully snatching the list out of his hands.

“I'll need to try these dishes and make a decision pretty soon,” Madison told them. “I want the menu set before we go into next week. I can leave other things to the last minute, but food I want planned and sorted so there are no issues.”

Wright spoke to Sophie, his voice low, but not so low that Roark couldn't hear him listing off vendors he'd prefer to use.

His sister took out her phone, typing away as he spoke, and a burst of pride made Roark smile. Dev might resent the hell out of him, but he'd grown more committed over the last few months than he'd ever been before. And Sophie would probably run rings around all of them someday.

As they spoke, Madison turned to him, angling her body so that her knee bumped his thigh. He could've shifted to move away but didn't. He should've. Her leg pressed against his khakis and he swore that side of his body was about fifty degrees warmer than the other.

“You okay?” She mouthed the words silently.

“Yeah. Why?” He mouthed back.

She barely tilted her head toward Devlin.

Roark formed an O with his lips and shrugged it off. That whole exchange with Dev may seem like an issue to most people, but after all these years, Roark had accepted this was how they communicated. He didn't like it, he'd even tried to change it, but he was damned if he could fix it.

“It's fine,” he whispered. “You okay?” He tapped his watch. “Time-wise.”

Madison dipped her chin, her delicate earrings swinging, before she met his gaze again. “I don't meet with Brenda until ten, then I go in search of bakers, but thanks for asking.” Her tone wasn't the sarcasm she'd used with Troutman. This thank-you was sincere.

“I spy, with my little eye, some meandering guests.” Sophie nudged Wright, and they got up to head to the restaurant.

“I'll go with.” Dev got up to leave with them, even though it was doubtful his presence was needed in the kitchen.

“Thank you. See you guys later,” Madison called after them without looking up.

As soon as they were gone, Roark turned to her. “I—” He took a deep breath to keep from venting all of his frustration. “Sorry about that, if it made you uncomfortable. My brother and I, we don't always see eye to eye, but we . . .”

He worked his jaw, thinking. But we, what? Haven't gotten along since Dev got old enough to think for himself, so everyone else is used to it? We used to be best friends and now he resents my very existence? Sure. Madison was dying to hear all about the family shit show.

“It won't be a problem,” Roark said instead.

“What won't be?”

“My brother and I.” And their baggage. “You have brothers and sisters?”

“No.” Madison immediately looked away. “It's just me.”

“I'd say you were lucky, but I do love my family. I can't stand them sometimes, but mostly, I love them.”

She stared at him for what seemed an endless moment, before she got up with her coffee mug. “About what I was saying earlier, about last night, I'm not going to pretend it didn't happen either. That would be childish. But I have a lot riding on this wedding and we need to focus on the task at hand, not . . .”

“Each other?”

“Yes.”

He joined her, refilling his coffee. “You're not the only one invested in this event. I know now isn't the time for . . .”

“Distractions?”

“Right.”

“
But
I was thinking, what if we made other arrangements?”

He wasn't sure where this was going, but he liked the general direction. “Arrangements are good. Go on.”

“When the wedding is over and Troutman is off our backs, then maybe we could get together after the reception to . . . celebrate.”

Roark quirked an eyebrow. “I'm amenable to celebrating.”

She was trying not to smile, and mostly failing. “That's good to hear. It's just, I'm not interested in having
a thing
. I don't do . . . that, but last night was nice.”

Roark was quiet for a moment. He knew what she was getting at. His mind normally operated the same when it came to relationships. Not having “a thing” meant there was no commitment between them. This was not a suggestion that they hook up after the wedding and then they'd date. This was he and Madison getting together when this was all over and having a night of what promised to be the hottest sex ever, and they'd leave it at that.

Maybe it'd happen again, maybe it wouldn't. No promises. One night was all he'd get from her, and normally it was all he'd offer in return.

“I can do ‘not
a thing'
once this event goes off with a bang.” Whereupon they'd get it on like bunnies, because if he wanted her this badly now, he could only imagine how bad it'd be in three weeks.

Actually, less than three weeks. Good thing too. Because working with Madison, seeing her every day, the wry curve to her lips, legs that didn't quit, and eyes that promised all kinds of wonderful trouble, there was
no way
he'd make it that long.

S
he wasn't going to make it a week. After not quite forty-eight hours of ignoring the buzz beneath her skin, the jittery high every time she got within ten feet of Roark, Madison reached the point she had to do something to channel the excess energy.

The plan was to deal with her desire for Roark, after the wedding. Work first, play later, then she'd leave. No muss, no fuss, and no reason to open herself up any further because she'd be gone from Honeywilde. The plan was solid and safe. With so much to do, she ought to be able to bury herself in one of a hundred tasks. Instead she kept thinking about Roark, the sensual assuredness of his kiss, the way his smiles melted her defenses, how his hands would feel on her skin while he was buried deep in—

Madison whimpered, knotting her running shoe tighter than necessary. It was barely six o'clock in the morning and she'd have to run for however long it took to put Roark, and about half a dozen deviant thoughts, behind her.

Her laces tied and her room key secure in the small pouch in the lining of her running pants, she snuck downstairs and past the reception desk, hoping no one would see her. Most of the inn was still asleep and no one was standing sentinel at the front desk.

She walked, but kept her pace swift as she stepped through the inn's front portico and out onto the paved walkway. It wound around to the side, leading to the main road. On her way up the mountain, she'd seen a dirt road about a fourth of a mile down that looked like it cut across the mountain. Such a road would make for a promising run, so she followed her instincts.

Sure enough, the road was worn smooth, probably by ATVs and service vehicles. She also dodged the evidence of a few horseback riders. The road curved and bent, with gentle inclines and valleys, a strenuous enough run she had to work for it, but not so much that she couldn't get lost in the zone.

Time passed, finally meaningless. Her mind began to clear of the what-ifs and worry, the way it did when she ran. In the solitude of running, she'd always found solace. Maybe because being alone was what she'd grown used to. So many times, being alone was better. Better than a bunch of backstabbing coworkers, better than some lying boyfriend, better than a belligerent mother who made it clear you weren't worth her trouble.

When she ran, she was strong. She wasn't wrong or needy; she didn't have to be someone she wasn't to gain approval. She was free.

The sun climbed higher in the sky, but one side of the road remained shaded. Birds sang a chorus of different tunes as her pulse climbed and her breathing came short and quick. She swore a deer darted across the road about fifty yards ahead. The forest came alive around her, and her with it.

Running in Charlotte didn't come close to running here.

She'd just hit her second wind when she heard the rhythmic patter of another runner coming up behind her. She eased right, the same way you do when driving, to let them pass.

“Hey.” A low, breathy voice panted beside her.

Madison glanced over, her pulse skittering.

Roark.

“Hey.”

“You said you ran. Wondering if I'd see you out here. On the old emergency road.”

“Yeah?” She was breathing heavy too. What the hell? She'd come out here to avoid the Roark issue, not run with it.

“Best run you'll have all year. I bet. Enjoy.” He nodded, and passed her.

She ought to let him. Her runs were her sanctuary, her time to process, her way of coping. She didn't want to talk to him right now. Not that there could be much talking this far into a run.

Roark moved ahead of her, pumping his sculpted legs, his baseball-player butt round in his basketball shorts.

Yeah. This was not going to work. She didn't want him showing her up, but mainly, running behind him would be unbearable.

Madison increased her pace and, after a minute, came up beside him.

His glance skated her way before he went back to watching the road.

Madison shifted into her highest gear and ran past him. She led the way for all of about five minutes, and then he returned to her side.

“Taking it up a notch?” His chest heaved with the effort of talking, his footfalls pounding.

She couldn't even manage a response and focused on keeping up her pace.

“Okay,” he said and matched her.

If he edged forward at all, she pushed herself to do so as well. By the time they reached a sharp bend in the road, she was running full out, as fast as she could. He'd better be running at his top speed too, because she'd kill him if he wasn't also about to die.

“This is . . .” Roark flung a hand out in front of him, gesturing something to her that she couldn't comprehend.

This is exhilarating? This is insane? Both.

“This . . . That's . . .” More hand gestures as he started to slow.

Ha! Success. She would win the race.

They took the curve too fast, but the dead end around the corner was what drew her up short.

What the . . . !
She yelped.

The road just . . . ended.

A long, low, swinging gate stretched out across her path, blocking the way to an endless expanse of forest beyond. A narrow, worn path eased around the sudden obstruction, and veering onto it was the only thing that saved her from going headfirst over the top of the gate.

She ran a few feet, skidded to a stop on the stretch of the trail, and ran back toward Roark.

He slow-jogged around at the end of the road, shaking out his arms.

“What the hell? You couldn't point out the road was about to end?” She moved to stand in the way of his jogging.

“I tried. Couldn't get the words out. You were running at Mach two.”

“
We
were running at Mach two. As I recall, I was not alone, but I was alone in not knowing the road was about to freaking end!”

Roark slowed to a walk and went around her, panting for air. “I tried. I swear. That's why . . . I was waving . . . my arms around. Why are you . . . so upset?”

“I'm not upset,” she shouted. “It's just . . . I could've broken my neck.” Her physical health had absolutely nothing to do with her frustration, but what was she going to do? Tell him she was aggravated because he'd showed up? Looking all hot and sweaty and yummy—and like something she couldn't put off for two more weeks.

He turned and came back toward her, standing there, staring, until he caught his breath. His hair was wet at his temples, darker, his face flushed from the run, making his eyes stand out, shining like fire through ice. “First of all, I'm not going to let you break your neck. There's a way around the gate. Obviously you found it.”

“Gee, thanks. You've got an answer for everything, huh?”

A dark eyebrow quirked up. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.” She looked away and began walking, shaking out her legs. “The dead end startled me, that's all. But maybe, instead of racing me next time, you should favor safety and let me know what's around the corner.”

Roark laughed.

“Excuse you. Why are you laughing? I could've died. What if I'd gone over that gate? It'd be your fault and all because you had to win?”

He kept laughing, eventually waving a hand at her, helpless.

“Great. You think that's funny. My injury humors you.”

“No,” he managed to pant.

“Then why are you cackling?”

Roark bent over, holding himself up by planting both hands on his knees. His back shook with the last of his laughter, the damp T-shirt clinging to him, accentuating the dip and line of his spine, the rise of muscles along both sides, accentuating the narrow waist that flared up in a perfect V, all the way to his broad shoulders.

Madison jerked her gaze away and began to pace.

“I'm not laughing at you almost falling.”

“Oh no?”

“No. I'm laughing because you are so jacked up right now. I like it.”

“What?”

“The only time you let loose is if you've had martinis or run for miles, otherwise you're all . . .” He waved a hand at her again. “Composed.”

“I'm composed? You've worn dress pants and a tie almost every day I've been here.”

“So have you. The pants anyway.”

She huffed and kept walking. Her composure or how he dressed didn't really matter. What mattered was Roark had caught her off guard. Again. He was here, in her sanctuary, and even though she was frustrated and had almost flipped over a fence, she still wanted him here.

That
was the problem.

She could tell him to go ahead and run back toward the inn, and he'd probably do it. He'd leave her in peace if she asked.

The thing was, she didn't want him to leave.

He chuckled again, swiping a hand over his hair. “Your hair is finally messed up too. It's awesome.”

She considered the benefits of shutting him up with her tongue in his mouth.

“I don't know if it's the adrenaline from almost crashing or the endorphins from running, but you look wild.”

She marched right up to him. “I do not.”

“I wish I had a mirror.”

“That doesn't even make sense. Why would you need a mirror in the woods?”

He smiled. “So you could see yourself. Hair all out of place and your eyes dilated. It's damn—” Roark clamped his mouth shut and turned away, walking to the road's end again.

“What?” She followed. “It's what?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn't nothing. Now he was the one pacing and refusing to look at her.

Madison stepped into his path, making him jerk to a stop. “It's damn
what
?”

“Hot. You look so fucking hot right now, with your hair all messed up and your eyes wild, all while you raise hell at me so fast I can't understand half of what's coming out of your mouth. I'm trying to—I don't know. But you said let's wait till later so we'll wait till later, but
damn
. Waiting is
not
what I want to do right now.”

Madison kissed him.

She was sweaty and jittery and yes, riding an endorphin high and a sexual frustration roller coaster. No planning on her part, no seduction. She just laid one on him because she wanted Roark's mouth on hers again.

His lips were as hot and hard as the rest of him. She'd said later was better, but what the hell did she know? She needed a taste. One little taste to last until the wedding was over.

She pulled away, wondering when she'd grabbed onto his shirt, her fingers digging into his pecs. His shirt was warm and damp against her palms, his chest rising and falling as fast as hers.

“Wait.” Roark reached for her, his hands spanning her lower back. “Where are you going? Why'd you stop?”

“I—I don't know.”

“Then don't. I don't want to stop.” He leaned forward, meeting her halfway, their lips crashing together.

And mother of pearl, the kiss was delicious.

It should be gross and sticky after running more than five miles, but kissing him was perfect. Hot and needy, his kisses made everything else disappear. He hadn't shaved yet and his overnight stubble rubbed the corner of her mouth, brushed against her chin, even better than she'd imagined.

This time she didn't fight the fantasy or the sound of need as it rose in the back of her throat.

“I know. Me too,” Roark murmured.

She curled her fingers into his shirt, gripping his chest again. God, he was a solid wall of slick man.

Roark's kiss took her breath more than any run ever had. His lips were smooth but firm against hers. No slobbery lips, no licking her face off. He brushed and sucked her lips, sending currents of need through her body. She gasped with the force of it and he took the opportunity to nip at her bottom lip.

“This is such a bad idea.” She didn't even pull her mouth from his as she put forth the weak protest.

“Yeah, but let's do it anyway.”

She backed toward the side of the road, pulling him with her.

“Where are we going?”

“I have no idea.” Her feet carried her backward, to the other side of the gate, to the small clearing she'd run past, hidden off the trail. She wasn't thinking ahead, or clearly. It just
felt
like the right place to go.

A patch of grass and moss sloped up to their right, and Madison maneuvered Roark until his back was to it.

He dipped his head, kissing along her jaw, the curve of her neck. She arched against him, even as she knew their current situation was ridiculous. What were they going to do, dry hump on the side of the road?

She tugged him closer, tilting her head to give him better access. He kissed and nibbled, his mouth and stubble leaving an indelible mark on her deepest desires.

Yes. Dry humping was precisely what they were about to do, ridiculousness be damned. Madison wanted him. On the side of a dirt road, in the middle of the woods—she wanted him, and she was tired of being composed about it.

Her hands against his chest again, she gave him a gentle push.

Roark glanced back, getting the message, because a sly grin danced over his lips. He eased down onto the slope of grass and took her with him. “At least it's been dry lately.”

She didn't even care. Later she might. Right now, all she cared about was this.

Looping her arms around Roark's neck, she rolled and pulled him closer, their bodies flush, some of his weight against her. The ground was uneven but soft beneath her, sweet smelling and fresh. She turned her face, inhaling deeply, giving Roark the other side of her neck.