A Seductive Proposal (4 page)

“What?” Carly asked. A terrible sensation stole up her back like a snake slithering over her skin.

“But…that guy, the drop-dead gorgeous one? I know who he is now. I didn’t know when I sent you out with that tour, but I learned while you were taking the Jeep up. Oh, God. I was having an argument with my mom and you left so fast. Oh, no.” She groaned and covered her face with her hands.

“Tina, who is he?” The snake crept up to the base of her neck and crept right on around forming a snug loop.

“Quint Barron.”

Carly shook her head. “I know his name. Of course I know his name. He was on the roster.”

She at least knew his name.

“
Harry Blooker,
” Tina cried. “The CEO of Hunter Enterprises. His name is Quint Barron.”

Carly took a step back. She took another. Her leg collided with the base of one of the chairs she kept in the lobby, perhaps just for moments like these. She fell down into the seat. Hard.

She shook her head. “You must be mistaken. You mean that guy?” The one who had tackled her from behind, the one who had afterward made love to her in every position imaginable for hours and hours, the one who had fallen asleep holding her against the warm masculine curve of his body, the one who hadn’t left until dawn? “You mean Quint Barron heads the company that wants to buy my winery?”

“Yup.”

Oh, God, she was going to have to see him again.

Her dazed sated feelings just transformed into a tornado of panic. Once he’d left, she’d given the whole experience a great deal of thought. She’d never been so uninhibited in her life but only because she knew she’d never see him again and now she’d have to see him to do battle with him over her winery. She put her head in her hands and groaned.

“Are you okay?” Tina asked.

“No.” She lowered her hands and looked up. Tina now leaned over the tall counter and scowled down at her. Carly continued, “Not yet, but I will be.” She sucked in air for a good long minute until her heart rate settled down. She’d have to find some way of making certain he didn’t come back to Sedona, at least not to her office.

She gave herself a shake. Tour guests had begun collecting in the loading zone across the alley.

If only she’d known who he was, she would never have taken him home.

She forced herself to draw in a few more deep breaths.

Well, enough with the regrets.

Time to drive.

She would deal with the conundrum of
Harry Blooker
later.

Later that morning, Quint drove out to Red Canyon Vineyards. He had the top down on the BMW. Though July had arrived, the morning still held back the worst of the heat.

He had a hard time not smiling. He’d worked Carly’s body over but good last night, just like she’d asked him to. He’d used muscles he didn’t know he had and he ached in odd places, but every time he felt a twinge, his smile broadened.

All the sex powered him, reminding him of the place he’d chosen for himself in the world. God, he loved his life. He loved making plans and working them. He loved running several major companies. He loved being at the helm of a growing empire. And he had loved being with Carly last night, all night.

He had meant to leave at least twice, but when he moved to slide off the bed, she caught his arm each time, pulled him to her and whispered, “More” against his neck. Dammit if he hadn’t stayed.

He’d loved it, every sensual, hot second of it. He’d taken her in about every position he could think of. And the time he’d slid his thumb in her mouth she’d arched her neck and cried out her orgasm. He hardened just thinking about it.

He’d do it again if he didn’t have a concrete rule against getting involved. That was a road he just couldn’t go down. He enjoyed the company of women, they were a lot of fun in bed. But beyond business and friendship, he had nothing else to give.

Besides, it wasn’t a real problem. Carly lived in Sedona and he had his primary residence in Phoenix.

A sudden breeze brought high desert and mountain scents into his head, of dust, mesquite trees, of Ponderosa pines, of old juniper and red-bark manzanita, of oak, all reminding him of Carly. He still had the perfume of her in his nostrils, that sexy, heady womanly scent, the one built of ancient seas and sweet, fragrant flowers.

Damn he would love to be back there again. If he was staying longer, he might even be willing to break his rule and extend things to a second night if she was game. After the way she’d responded to him and begged for more, she’d jump at the chance.

He laughed at all his speculations. He needed to focus on what was important. Right now, he had a winery to buy.

He shook off the lingering desire as the sight of row upon row of green vines came into view, right in the middle of the desert. The well-tended appearance of the vineyard caught his attention. Not a sagging post or broken wire-support in sight. The stone and wrought iron wall had to be a recent improvement and as he drew up to the massive black gates, he could see that the house, the winery and even the landscaping had a fresh, refurbished appearance.

Excitement jolted him. He’d been right. The whole place would be a powerful psychological leverage during his overall presentation to investors. He would do whatever he had to do to persuade the owner to sell.

He was energized by the possibility, as always, when he found the final key to bringing a client into his realm. He couldn’t care less about the vineyard itself but owning it would give him the edge he needed to land this moneyed Napa group.

Gerald Thompson, the acknowledged leader, had purchased a vineyard a couple of years ago. He also had a conservative investment portfolio worth seventy million. A second vintner, Scott Dillon had inherited a fortune and on Gerald’s advice purchased an adjacent winery and vineyard. The wife of the third investor, Eve Frazier had been born into the winery business. He wasn’t, however, courting the wife. Her husband, Paul, had a stock portfolio worth about eighty million.

He wanted their accounts for the investment division of Hunter Enterprises. He held a strong position in the current troubled marketplace since his clients had come through the recent downturn in good shape. He’d foreseen the signs and had protected every one of his investors. He didn’t rely on rating systems to determine the value of a company. He knew each organization inside and out before he invested.

At the end of July, Thompson’s group would be bringing their wives to Arizona for shopping and sightseeing in a little over a month.

A surge of adrenaline kicked in. He could taste the deal now. He felt it in every part of his being. Damn it, right now, he could fly.

He parked across from the gates on the
improved
but unpaved road, hopped out of the car then opened the trunk. He searched in his briefcase and found the file Sheila had put together for him on the owner of the winery.

He started to scan the initial summation attached to a thick packet, but the first sentence blasted his contentment to hell and beyond.
The current owner of Red Canyon Vineyards, Carly Marie Grayson, recently inherited and refurbished the property…

He muttered a long string of curses.

Carly owned Red Canyon Vineyards?

How had it happened that he’d slept with the owner of the winery the night before and hadn’t even known it? Dammit,
his
Carly even owned Jumpin’ Jeep Tours.

He remembered how she’d laughed when he’d questioned her about driving one of the Jeeps home, that she’d bragged that the owner was like family to her. Why hadn’t he picked up on that? More to the point, why hadn’t he read the file earlier?

He pondered the exact number of events that had come together to keep him from knowing who Carly was when she’d taken him back to her house.

Fate had tricked him but good and for something that was supposed to be a simple matter the situation grew into a tangle of thorns.

He turned back to the file and read it through to the end.

He’d made a serious mistake in not reading the damn thing before coming to Sedona.

He scowled. He had a strong instinct about this, and he always went with his gut, that Carly wouldn’t just hand the winery over to him. She owned and ran a competitive Jeep tour company and had refurbished what, just a few months ago, had been a rundown winery. In his terms, she ruled her world.

His frown deepened. Had she known who he was last night?

Probably not, otherwise she would never have slept with him. He felt that in his gut, too.

He thought about going back to the Jumpin’ Jeep Tours office to speak with her, but he knew that would be a mistake. He’d been in her bed and he’d been in and out of her body a dozen different ways. From this point forward, the night he’d spent with her would color all his negotiations.

He made a quick decision. Today was not the day to begin wresting the vineyard from the woman who had kissed about every inch of his body.

He made a phone call to Jumpin’ Jeep Tours and spoke with Tina again. She’d sold him his tour ticket on the day before. He remembered liking her energetic spirit. He told her something had come up and he wouldn’t be able to meet with Carly today but he would be in touch.

Tina then said the oddest thing to him, “Don’t be a stranger, Harry.” He might have asked what she meant by that or at least corrected her about his name, but she’d exclaimed that all her lines had just lit up and she had to go.

He went to his hotel and picked Brad up. Heading out of Sedona, he told him the whole damn story. He explained he needed some time to work things out, to get his ducks in a row.

Brad just laughed at him.

When he got to his offices in Phoenix just before two in the afternoon, a fax from Carly confirmed his opinion of her;
You’ll get Red Canyon over my dead body.

So, she’d discovered the truth this morning as well. That perky blond, Tina, must have informed her of his identity.

He smiled as he thought about Carly’s body and how
alive
she’d been in his arms. He wanted her beneath him all over again.

He sat at his desk and tried to calm down, but that had been one helluva night with her. He took deep breaths. He buzzed Sheila and asked for a bottle of cold water, ice cold.

After a few minutes and half-a-dozen long pulls on a chilled bottle of Aquafina, he brought himself under tight control. He narrowed his eyes and looked into the future. By sending the fax, Carly had thrown down the gauntlet. Now he had two goals, to take ownership of her winery and to get her back into bed.

This time
he
wanted
more.

* * * * * * * * *

Two days later, Carly walked into the Jumpin’ Jeep Tours lobby and plucked her suede hat from her head. Her mood soared because her last tour, which included several Parisians, had given her a solid respite from thinking about Quint. She’d even had a chance to practice her paltry French and that always made her happy.

At last, she could relax. Quint hadn’t made contact since he’d left her house that one fateful morning, which led her to believe that he’d dropped his interest in her winery. The fax she’d sent must have done the trick. Thank God. After the night they’d spent together, he knew things about her that put her in a vulnerable position.

But all that was behind her now and the French tourists had gone a long way to settling her nerves.

“How’s tricks?” she called out to Tina.

“Shhh,” came back at her.

She took note of Tina’s pale complexion and the finger she held to her lips. “What’s wrong?”

Tina shook her head, hopped down from her box behind the counter then ran the distance between them. “Quint Barron is here,” she whispered.

The words hit her like a brutal slap across the face. “What?” she cried. “Why? What does he want?” Like she didn’t know.

“He just showed up,” Tina said. “He’s been waiting about an hour already.”

Carly shook her head. “You’d think he’d call first, set up an appointment.”

“Guess he had different ideas.” The phone rang. Tina raced back around the counter, then hopped up on her box. “Jumpin’ Jeep Tours. Yes, I’ll check.” Her quick fingers sped over the computer keyboard again. She caught Carly’s eye and inclined her head to the office.

Carly nodded and collected her wits. She glanced down at her shirt, jeans and Timberlines. She had just completed the last tour of the day and after taking her Jeep to the Rim and back, as well as over various parts of the Sedona canyon countryside, she ached all over, her right arm vibrated from shifting about a thousand times, and dirt clung to her like a second skin.

These were hardly the conditions under which she wanted to see a man who had not two days ago ravaged her willing body.

She sighed and headed straight to the bathroom. She swiped and patted the dust from her jeans. She brushed the tangles out of her hair and put on a shimmer of lip-gloss.

Yesterday, Tina had made her miserable. She had Googled Quint. He liked making investments. He liked helping other people make investments, too. In fact, his company had survived the recent turmoil on Wall Street when many other investment firms had fallen through the cracks. In addition, he owned several businesses. He was well past the hundred million mark in terms of net worth. She couldn’t even fathom such a thing.

Dammit, her first impression of him had stuck. Quint was a lion. Worse, he knew how to handle her starved body and she so didn’t want to have to deal with him today…or any day.

Well, no use complaining about fur balls when she’d invited a lion into her bed. Besides, all she had to do was stand her ground and send him back to Phoenix. What could be simpler?

She straightened her shoulders, left the protective cave of the bathroom then went into her modest office.

He stood near the window looking up at the buttes. The sun glinted off his black hair and gave rise to a coppery aura. He looked absurdly god-like.

“Hello…Quint.”

“What a view,” he said, but he didn’t turn around. He just kept looking up.