Barbara Dunlop - An Intimate Bargain

Seth’s cell phone rang, and he moved to a quiet corner near the back exit to answer the call.

Lisa, blonde, petite, freckled and perky, tracked Abigail’s progress from her office chair.

She waited until Abigail sat down and spun the chair, then she wheeled herself to face her. “So, what happened?” she demanded in a conspiratorial undertone.

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s blatantly obvious you got laid last night.”

“What?” Abigail blurted, glancing swiftly around, making sure nobody could overhear them.

“Don’t play dumb with me.” Lisa smacked her palm down on the padded arm of Abigail’s chair.

“I did not-”

“And don’t you dare lie to me either.” Lisa rocked back and crossed her arms over her gray Colorado Lions T-shirt, green eyes narrowing. Her voice stayed low. “Your cheeks are flushed. Your eyes are glowing gold. And there’s a spring in your step that wasn’t there at the party. Plus, you disappeared before ten last night, and I never saw you again. Neither did anyone else. Now, give.”

Abigail hesitated. She wanted to lie, but she knew she was trapped. Lisa had her dead to rights.

Obviously taking Abigail’s silence as an admission, Lisa grinned and leaned closer still. “Details, please.”

Abigail sent a worried glance toward Seth. “Don’t you dare tell-”

“I’m not going to tell anybody. I’m not a gossip.”

Abigail knew it was true. Lisa would be Seth’s executive assistant in the mayor’s office, in part because of her brilliance and hard work, but also because they’d learned she was the soul of discretion. She and Abigail had become quite close over the course of the campaign.

“So, what happened?” Lisa hissed. “Who was he?”

“Nobody you know.”

“How can you say that? I know lots of people. I’ve met half the town in the last three months.”

“He’s not from here.”

“Ooh.” Lisa’s eyes sparkled. “Where’s he from? What’s he do? What’s his name? Is he hot?”

“I don’t know.”

Lisa drew back. “You don’t know if he’s hot?”

“I don’t know his name,” Abigail admitted sheepishly. “I don’t know what he does. And I don’t know where he’s from.”

Lisa’s mouth opened, then her expression turned positively gleeful. “You had a one-night stand with a stranger?”

Abigail lowered her own voice even further. “Yes.”

Lisa’s hand tightened on Abigail’s arm, as if to hold her in place. “Was he hot?”

“Yes.” Hot didn’t begin to describe Lucky. In fact, even now, Abigail’s body responded with an embarrassing level of arousal at the mere memory of Lucky naked, laconic, gazing at her with that lazy half smile.

“You go, Abby!”

“Shh.”

“Yes. Of course. Wow. No wonder you don’t want to tell Seth.”

“I don’t want to tell anyone. ”

Lisa gave a series of rapid nods. “Got it. But if you don’t know his name, how are you going to see him again?”

“I’m not.” Abigail wouldn’t. She couldn’t. No matter how much she wished she could.

“But if he’s hot and, well, if the look in your eyes is anything to go by, maybe you want to-”

“Lisa, look up the definition of one-night stand.”

“One-night stands can turn into something else, you know.”

Abigail coughed on a laugh, seizing on the chance to turn the tables. “Actually, I wouldn’t know. Would you?”

Lisa wrinkled her nose in the air. “No. Not that there’s anything wrong in it. Not with the right person. You know, in the right circumstance.”

“Last night was the right circumstance.” Abigail wasn’t going to regret last night. She refused to regret last night.

She’d never met a man remotely like Lucky. The memory of his voice made her tingle, and the thought of his kisses brought a flood of desire. Her real world was closing in fast, dragging her back into its clutches, while the exhilarating escape with Lucky secretly pulsed just below her skin. She’d lock it away where no one could see, but where she could pull it out to relive that treasured night over and over again.

Fall was on its way to Lyndon Valley. Work on the ranch would begin in earnest now, starting with the roundup. But when the wind howled down from the Rockies, or when she was bone tired out on the range, she’d remember the feel of Lucky’s strong arms around her, the heat of his body against her, his whispered words, his endearing sense of humor and the way he’d made her feel like the only woman in the world.

The Craig Mountain Brewery was tucked in the mountains above the picturesque shores of Lake Patricia, an hour north of Lyndon City. Built of stone and mortar, around 1850, in the style of British castles, Craig Mountain had started life as a manor house for a British lord, a remittance man, a reprobate whose family had paid him handsomely to leave England and never return.

The brewery manager, Lucas Payton, shared the story of Lord Ashton with Zach while the two men made their way along the covered pathway that connected the original castle, which was now mostly offices, to the newer industrial complex housing the warehouse and brewery, with its tanks, filtration systems and bottling line.

“They say Ashton bribed a railroad official for information on the planned railway line,” Lucas continued, tone animated. “Whether the official didn’t know the real route, or he simply lied for reasons of his own, nobody ever found out. But he took the money and left the state, while Ashton built his house a hundred miles in the wrong direction.”

“You a history buff?” asked Zach.

Lucas had worked for DFB for three years now. The two men had met on several occasions when Lucas traveled to Houston for company meetings. But they’d always talked shop, and it had always been amongst a larger group of people.

“You know how it is,” Lucas answered, stuffing his hands into his back pockets. “I’m an orphan. So I’ve adopted somebody’s else’s ancestors.”

“Never thought to do that,” said Zach. Interesting, though, choosing a family history based on interest and convenience instead of strict genealogy.

Like all DFB employees, Lucas had come through the foster care system. When Zach and Alex founded the company, they’d promised each other it would be for the benefit of orphans like themselves, people who had no families and few chances in life.

“You should prowl through the top floors of the castle sometime,” said Lucas, pulling open a door to the cinder-block warehouse. “There’s some absolutely fascinating stuff up there.”

“I’m not going to have time for that.” Zach stepped inside the cool, dim building, and the familiar tang of hops and malt hit his nostrils. Supplies were stacked twenty feet high on steel shelving, on either side of a wide aisle that bisected the big building. A forklift rumbled unseen in the distance, its backup alarm sounding intermittently with the whir of the tires and hydraulics.

“Going right back to the big city?” asked Lucas. “I suppose there’s not much to keep you here.”

“Not much,” Zach agreed, even as his mind slipped back to last night and the incredible encounter with Doll-Face.

When he woke up this morning, the sexy and mysterious woman had already slipped out, leaving him there alone. He’d told himself to let it go. She didn’t want to know him, and she sure hadn’t wanted him to know anything about her.

It was disappointing, and for a few seconds he’d been tempted to hang around town looking for her. But orphans learned one lesson very early in life. Anything good could be snatched away in a millisecond. It was probably better that it had happened fast this time. Something told him, given half a chance, he could have fallen dangerously hard for the beautiful, intelligent, engaging woman.