Back in His Bed. Heidi Rice
in his blood. Remembering Brenna’s physical response only fanned it. He’d reacquainted himself with the way she smelled and the feel of her skin. If he’d just kept his big mouth shut…
Grimacing, he turned the water to cold and pushed the image of Brenna—deliciously wet and covered only in a scrap of fabric—from his mind. He had a lot of real work to do today, and a raging erection wasn’t going to help.
Concentrating on the zoning issues for the new property in Sacramento did help, and while he might have been slightly distracted during the endless meetings, he managed to keep Brenna off his mind for the better part of the afternoon.
As promised, Roger’s courier had the documents on his desk before the end of the business day, and Brenna was once again front and center in his thoughts. Only this time it was the image of Brenna, teary-eyed and trying to hold it together, that kept appearing.
Brenna had said she was finished crying for him. And she’d said it so candidly, without any other pretense; he was leaning toward believing it. Had she cried alone? Without him knowing?
That would make him a first-class bastard who deserved to have her walk out on him.
Yet another reason he needed out of this mess. Quickly. He should let Roger handle it from here. It would be easier on him and Brenna both.
Then why the hell was he on his way to Sonoma?
Because I want her. Brenna was like a bad habit he’d thought he’d kicked years ago, but one tiny taste was enough to awaken the craving. Last night had cleared the air a little about their past, and the papers he had on the seat next to him should take care of their present problem. If Brenna wasn’t holding a grudge, he planned to finish what they’d started last night.
As he made the turn onto Amante Verano property he was cautiously optimistic about the night ahead. But, like a junkie who knew his fix was just moments away, the craving intensified as he parked next to Brenna’s Jeep.
The low hum of the television greeted him as he opened the door, and he saw Brenna on the couch, her long legs stretched out across the cushions. A magazine lay open on her lap; her face was serious as she read. She toyed with a lock of hair that had escaped the loose twist on the back of her head, more relaxed than he’d seen her in a long time. The image disappeared, though, when she heard his steps on the marble floor and the thud of his briefcase landing on the table. Startled, she turned to find the source of the noise, and the magazine slid to the floor.
“Jack! I—I—didn’t realize you’d be back tonight.” She pushed a button on the remote and the TV went black.
“Is that a problem?”
“No, not at all. I’ve already told you you’re welcome here.” Brenna sounded friendly enough, but he still approached with caution, picking the magazine up off the floor and handing it back to her. It was a wine magazine. No surprise there.
“Interesting reading?”
“Very much so.” She grinned at him and his stomach tightened a bit. “There’s a fascinating article on cap management regimes, if you are looking for some light reading.”
Bren wasn’t poised for attack; in fact he almost believed her attitude was genuine. Was she looking for a ceasefire as well? That would make this evening—and all his plans—much easier. “I’ll pass, thanks.” He took the chair opposite the couch and noticed the glass on the table between them. No stem. Straight sides. A dark amber liquid with a small film of white bubbles across the surface. “Is that a beer?”
Brenna laughed. “Yes, it’s beer. Dianne and I went to town this afternoon, and I was able to replenish the supplies. Help yourself. There’s actual food in there, too, if you’re hungry,” she called at his back as he headed to the fridge.
Brenna’s amazing attitude adjustment seemed too good to be true. His optimism grew.
“A beer is all I need. It’s been a hell of a day.” He twisted off the cap and held the bottle by the neck as he slid the new agreement out of his briefcase.
“Sorry to hear that. Something wrong at the office?”
Her attempt at small talk brought a smile to his face, and it was tempting to just take his beer back to the living room for the simple, normal activity of human company and conversation after a long day. But that would only be a stalling tactic, and he wanted to get business out of the way first.
Brenna still wore her open, friendly look as he returned to the living room, but it faded as she saw the papers in his hand. Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not signing that.”
“You should really read it before you decide.” He handed it to her and reclaimed his seat, stretching his legs out in front of him and drinking from the bottle as she flipped through the pages.
“This looks like it could take a while. How about you give me the abridged version instead?” She reached for her own glass, placing the papers on the table and leaving them there as she settled back against the cushions and looked at him expectantly.
“All right. Short version it is. This gives you an additional twenty-five percent share in the business.” Her eyebrows went up. “Free and clear,” he assured her. “That gives you a majority stake, no matter what happens. In return, you agree to the sale of my remaining twenty-five percent to Garrett Properties, and the company will back you as a silent partner for the next year. At the end of that year you agree to allow the company to sell its interest to whatever buyer it finds—you, of course, will have the right of first refusal at that time, but you cannot block the sale.”
“You’d give me another twenty-five percent?” She sounded as if she was waiting for the trap to snap shut. She picked up the papers and began scanning, obviously looking for the catch. “Why?”
Roger had asked him the same question, so he recycled his answer. “Consider it part of your divorce settlement. Half of my half.”
“But I didn’t get a divorce settlement. We weren’t married long enough.”
“Then this gives me the opportunity to rectify that lack.” Brenna shot him a distrusting look. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s a gift. No strings beyond what I’ve already said.”
She flipped through a few more pages before placing them back on the table. Picking her glass up again, she stared at the liquid, her eyebrows knitting together as she thought. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head, but he had no idea what conclusions she was drawing.
“I know it’s not what you want, but it’s the best I can do for you, Bren.”
She nodded and drummed her nails on the side of the glass. Then she swallowed hard and lifted her brown eyes to his. “I know it is. And it seems more than fair.”
BRENNA’S throat felt tight. It was very fair. More than she could have hoped for, actually. Jack looked shocked. What had he expected? It wasn’t as if she had much room to bargain. In fact she was shocked he’d been so accommodating. He could have just continued to hound her until she gave in. Because, though she hadn’t admitted it to anyone, deep down she’d known she would have eventually buckled under the pressure.
“You agree to those terms?” Jack seemed a little surprised at her easy acceptance.
She nodded and drank deeply from her glass, hoping the beer would loosen the constriction around her vocal cords. It didn’t.
Jack sat back in his chair and folded his hands across his stomach. “I’m glad to hear it. There’s no sense dragging this out endlessly.”
He was being mighty friendly for someone who’d gone ten rounds with her the night before. And this offer, coming out of nowhere like a gift from the gods…What was the catch?