Catherine Mann - Acquired - The CEO's Small-Town Bride

“Guess I’ll have to hire a food taster.” He’d forgotten about her sharp tongue, but rather enjoyed it now. Not many stood up to him these days. Most folks were too busy kissing his ass in hopes of currying favor.

Too fast, his mind zipped back to other ways she used to drive him crazy with that very same smart mouth of hers.

“It shouldn’t be too tough to find a sucker willing to work for you since over half the town will be out of a job soon, thanks to you. Hey …” She snapped her fingers, her smile theatrically bright. “Maybe you have an application handy so I can pass it along to my parents since they’ll undoubtedly be first to get the ax.”

She had a lot of nerve chewing him out. He’d worked his tail off making something of himself after leaving this place. Every step of the way he’d envisioned riding back into town on his proverbial white horse and freeing Sarah from poverty’s grip. Great plan. Except she’d quickly shifted her undying love to another guy, a man she’d married. Sure, the guy had died three years ago, but that didn’t change the past.

So yeah, he’d ignored her since returning to Vista del Mar. Why the hell would he think she even wanted to speak to him now?

Gasping for air, Sarah paused her tirade, but not for long. “What? Nothing to say for yourself? You may have fooled some people at first with all your phony philanthropy, setting up a literacy charity in your mother’s name. Hannah’s Hope .” She shook her head. “But you didn’t trick me with your tax write-off attempt to get people to lower their guards. Is your need for revenge against Ronald Worth and his cronies really important enough to destroy so many lives?”

He held his peace for the moment, surprised—stunned even—to be called on the carpet so openly, so publicly. Although frankly, most of her accusations were true. He had come back to town for revenge. He was about to shut the factory and make a huge windfall.

Sure, the factory could be viable, but the effort and expense … No. He hadn’t come this far in the work world by being a sap. And hell, yes, he was enjoying rubbing Ronald Worth’s nose in every bit of the success.

But Sarah missed the mark in a huge and unforgivable way when she mocked anything to do with his mother. Anger steamed slowly. “Business is business, Kitten.”

“Do not call me that.” Her knuckles went white as she clenched her pen tighter.

Her ire fueled his own. “But that name holds such fond memories for me. Remember the way you—”

“Argh!” She stomped her foot. “I never thought you would turn into a smug, stuck-up snob.”

“Why don’t you speak a little louder? I don’t think they heard you over at table ten.”

“Why do you care what they think? What does it matter to you if I lose my job?” She plowed ahead with her rant, until the two women at the next table gave up all pretense of studying the menu and listened openly. “Do you even remember what it’s like to work for minimum wage? To live paycheck to paycheck, all the time knowing you could lose your car or worse if a case of the flu keeps you out of work for a week?”

Conversations dwindled to a stop around the club. Not even a tink of silverware sounded, only muffled clanks from the kitchen.

“Sarah, perhaps we should talk this out somewhere more private.”

“Oh, so now you want to speak to me? After five months of ignoring my existence? After fourteen years of not even a postcard when you left for L.A. after graduation? Well, screw you. I’m so sorry if hearing the truth makes you uncomfortable.”

He’d opened his mouth to take her down a peg … then the absurdity of it all hit him. He was renowned for making top corporate raiders quake in their Gucci loafers, but fearless Sarah took him on without a wince.

A laugh rumbled low in his chest, rising and rolling out to fill the exclusive dining room.

“Damn it, Rafe, don’t you dare laugh at me.” Her face turned redder.

And he laughed harder.

A man with a “manager” pin on his jacket and harried look on his face wove his way around a table toward them. “Is there some kind of problem here, Mr. Cameron?”

“Not at all,” Rafe said, trying his best to tamp down the laughter if not the urge to smile. “Ms. Richards and I were just catching up.”

The manager turned to Sarah. “Ms. Richards, please do your ‘catching up’ on your own time.”

“Of course. I’ll be sure to keep my voice down, sir,” she said tightly before facing Rafe again. “My apologies for popping your eardrums. Could I start you off with something to drink?”

She looked about as sorry as a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar—after she’d eaten her fill.

“No apologies needed,” Rafe answered, and couldn’t resist adding, “Kitten.”

Her eyes narrowed. Her chest heaved with a deep inhale, bringing to mind prom night when he’d seen her gorgeous breasts in the moonlight. They’d been in the back of his beat-up El Camino, under the stars, making out by the ocean. There hadn’t been enough money to attend the after-party with their friends. He’d felt like crap for shortchanging her. But she’d sworn she didn’t mind.

The next thing he knew, she’d skimmed aside the spaghetti straps on her gown and bared her breasts. He could still remember the smell of her wrist corsage, the feel of how she’d dug her kitten claws into his back with a sweet sigh.

Then he’d learned she was drunk because someone had spiked the punch. Their evening ended abruptly and he’d driven her to his house for sobering coffee.

Rafe skimmed a finger along his shirt collar. “Um, I’ll take you up on that drink offer while I wait for Chase to finish his call.”

Sarah smiled full out and with his brain too fogged with memories of her tight nipples against his chest he didn’t bother analyzing what had made her grin.

She gestured to the silver drink cart a few feet away. “Some iced tea … or coffee perhaps?”

“Tea, thanks.” He didn’t need any more heat coursing through his body right now.

“Coming up in a jiffy.” A gleam in her eyes, she hefted the cut-crystal pitcher full of amber and ice.

He picked up his empty glass and held it out for her. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

The sparks in her jade eyes gave him a scant second’s warning that she wasn’t done with him yet. He should have remembered that Sarah didn’t back down. He should have shaken off the mind-numbing memory of seeing her half-naked. Green eyes jewel-tone hard, she upended the pitcher ….

And poured iced tea squarely onto his lap.

Rafe jerked back in shock as Sarah dumped the pitcher full of iced tea over his lap. He dodged most of the contents, his chair clattering back against the floor. All the same, a hefty splash caught his legs, leaving his Brioni suit pants cold and clammy against his skin.

Sarah had always delivered the unexpected, something that apparently hadn’t changed in fourteen years. Not many dared stand up to him these days and he had to confess he found the challenge refreshing. Chuckling softly, he swept beads of liquid from his thighs.

Around the room, silverware clattered against plates and chairs scraped back as curious diners zeroed in on them. Not that Rafe had ever cared what anyone else thought.

The manager charged toward him, face red. Rafe held up a hand stopping him in his tracks, then waving him away. He didn’t have to bother checking to see if the manager honored his request. No one argued with him anymore.

Except Sarah.

Right now his entire focus stayed on the female in front of him, the one woman he could never forget. Fourteen years ago, she’d been a great big risk to his ambitions.