Dodging Temptation (The Retreat) (12 page)

“A girl could get used to skipping out on work to hang out with you.” She brushed her lips across his, but the brief contact wasn
’
t enough, and she deepened the kiss. It was more than thank you, more than I want you… It was the first step in a journey leading to her new life.

Pulling back while she still could, Harper paused. Barely hearing the island
’
s namesake birds above the sound of blood rushing in her ears, she couldn
’
t look away from Dodge.
Dial it down, girl. It
’
s just a fling.
In less than a week she
’
d be back home in Washington, and there wasn
’
t space in her new life for a corporate cowboy in Wyoming.

Dodge exhaled a deep breath, and the genial tour guide look returned. “Now that
’
s exactly the kind of reaction I was hoping for.” He reached inside the cooler and retrieved the ice cream. “What do you say to having dessert first?”

D
odge sank back into the pillows next to Harper and closed his eyes, inhaling the strawberry scent of her hair. Over lunch they
’
d talked about everything and nothing. He couldn
’
t remember the last time he
’
d lingered over a meal with a date instead of rushing to get naked. They weren
’
t exactly taking it in the normal order, but even he couldn
’
t argue with the rightness of how it had t
urned out. It wasn
’
t permanent, but he didn
’
t have time or space in his life for that—he didn’t think he ever would. After the Brasch deal closed in a few days, his life would be all about taking The Retreat global. His revenge on his grandfather would lose its luster if he only won in the short-term. Of course Harper would be on her way back to Washington soon, so what was the harm in a little fun? As long as she never knew about his initial intentions, everything would be fine.

He cracked his eyelids, sneaking a look at her. She sat with her arms wrapped around her knees and watched the pelicans swoop down and scoop fish up out of Jackson Lake. The sunlight caught in her hair, giving the red strands a blond hue. Without stopping to think, he reached out and wrapped a silky strand around his finger. Harper turned her head and brushed a kiss across his finger, the brief touch as potent as if she
’
d reenacted the blow job from this morning. And to think he
’
d tried to fire her, catch her in the act of being a corporate spy, and think she’d actually follow through on her threat to tell the press Garth was at The Retreat. Damn, he was a real idiot sometimes.

She returned her attention to the lake and the mountains on the other shore. “It
’
s just beautiful out here, it
’
s like nothing could ever knock it down.”

“There are hundreds of small earthquakes each year in the Tetons as the ground shifts.” He encircled her waist and pulled her back so she was tucked against him, her curves fitting against him like she
’
d been made for him. “But the changes are so small that no one notices, at least not until there
’
s a big one.”

She turned so her cheek rested against the pocket of his shoulder and snuggled in. “A series of little earthquakes, now that could describe my life up until now.”

If she called being publicly humiliated by her jerk of an ex-husband and stalked by paparazzi because her family was practically on the Kennedy-Clinton-Bush level of politically famous small earthquakes, he couldn
’
t imagine what she
’
d describe as a big one. “Are you reforming yourself?”

“I am.” The slight vibrato in her voice gave away her nervousness but didn
’
t take away from the strong determined bass deepening her tone. “My new life starts as soon as I get back to Washington. This job was my first step toward total independence.”

He did a double take. “You
’
ve never had a job before?”

“No.” She laughed. “Not unless you count being a stereotypical political princess daughter and wife.”

He tilted her chin up so she had to look at him. “
I don’
t think there
’
s anything typical about you.” And he meant it. She was unlike anyone he
’
d ever met before—equal parts intriguing, alluring, and mystifying. Puzzles were his specialty, and he
’
d yet to crack the code that was Harper.

“You say the prettiest things.” She brushed a kiss across his lips. “I suppose you started working on the day you were born.”

“
Not quite.
” There were family pictures of a swaddled baby version of him in a bassinet while his mom taught yoga to The Retreat
’
s guests, but they
’
d waited for him to get a business degree before really letting him get his fingers deep into the business. “The joy and agony of a thriving family business is that it
’
s always there, and you can never get away from it.”

“Do you want to leave?” she asked. “Is that what the call this morning was about?”

He stiffened, the festering anger at his grandfather turning his blood to ice. “No. That was taking care of old business.”

Harper propped her chin up on her hand and cocked her head. “Sounds like there
’
s a story there.”

If it had been anyone else asking—even his family—he would have blown off the question. But with Harper the truth always seemed to leak out of him.

“My grandfather owns a chain of luxury hotels across the Northeast. That
’
s how my parents met. My dad went to Boston to apply for a job. He got it and then he met my mom at a company meet and greet. They fell in love, and a few months later I was more than just a gleam in my old man
’
s eye. When they told my grandfather she was pregnant and that they were going to get married, he told them that he
’
d disown my mom before allowing her to marry a black man. That went over about as well as you would expect.”

“I
’
m so sorry.” Sympathy shining in her eyes, she leaned down and kissed his cheek.

“It
’
s his loss.” He shrugged as if the rejection of his parents…of his brothers…of himself didn
’
t matter when in reality it had burned a hole right through him. “
And he
’
s going to see that for himself in a few days.”

“What happens then?”

It hadn
’
t been easy to find out what his grandfather
’
s plans had been, but Dodge wasn
’
t one to give in because the road was tough. “That
’
s when The Brasch Group is going to officially choose The Retreat over my grandfather
’
s company as its partner to develop an exclusive line of international luxury resorts.”

She laid her head back on his shoulder, and a loud silence descended before she sighed and shook her head. “
So it
’s just revenge.
”

“No, it
’
s good business.” And it was, but that wasn
’
t all it was. “But you
’
re right, taking something away from the man who mercilessly cut his own daughter out of his life because of who she fell in love with? That sweetens the pot.” The old man
’
s empire was in trouble, according to Dodge
’
s sources. Losing this deal could mean disaster for his grandfather
’
s hotels because they needed the influx of cash The Brasch Group was bringing to the table. When he didn
’
t get it, then the old man would understand rejection where it mattered the most—his bank account. “Once The Brasch Group
’
s representatives arrive and see for themselves that no one can beat The Retreat when it comes to discreet, high-end hotels, we
’
ll sign the paperwork, and everything will be right in the world.”

“So you
’
re starting a big earthquake.”

Certainty filled him. “Don
’
t you know it.”

Chapter Ten

N
early a week of spending as much time as possible with Dodge after their romantic picnic, lingering over finished work had become the name of Harper
’
s game. The mile-high stacks of cowboy diaries were gone from her desk and stored once again on the custom-built shelves lining the private library on The Retreat
’
s top floor. Her evaluations were complete, and dollar values had been assigned to each diary in May Loving
’
s unique collection. T
he only thing standing between her and the end of this job was the simple and quick task of finalizing the certificates of authenticity—well, that and the man standing in the library
’
s open door.
Keeping her head down, she peeked up at him through her lashes.

Dodge rested one shoulder against the doorframe, a one-sided curl to his lips, as he watched her. He
’
d been there for nearly ten minutes. Not talking. Not coming in. Not going out. Just watching, seeing how long it would take before she
’
d push away her paperwork and beg him to come in and lock the door behind him. It hadn
’
t happened enough to be a routine but, over the past six days, the library had seen enough action to make her life feel like it would fit right in with the Wild West shenanigans the cowboys had written about in their diaries. Their nights spent in her suite were for taking their time, but the afternoons in the library? Those were for hot, fast fun.

Still
, instead of calling him in, she kept doodling on the legal pad in front of her, taking time out to suck on the tip of her pen or drag it across the
V
neck of her blouse as she contemplated the gibberish she
’
d written. Each of Dodge
’
s barely perceptible sharp inhales in reaction only emboldened her. She
’
d leaned forward, angling her body so her breasts were on display because her shirt just happened to be unbuttoned enough to show off not only the high, round curves of her cleavage but the delicate lace of her bra.

The teasing got to her as much as it did him, making her nipples pucker and setting off all sorts of delicious shocks in her core. She trailed the pen, damp from sucking on it, down her sensitized flesh and into the deep valley between her breasts. The move opened up her blouse even more to his view, and he rewarded her exhibitionist audacity with the firm
thud
of the door closing and the
click
of the lock.

He was across the room before she knew it, standing beside her desk but still not touching. “You
’
re a tease.”

She rolled back her chair and swiveled it around so she faced him. “Little ole me?” She batted her eyelashes at him as she widened her legs, the move pushing up her short skirt.

Lust darkened his moss green eyes to the color of the pine trees on Sandpiper Island. “You
’
re not wearing panties.”

“
Oops.
” She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth and glided her fingers up the inside of one bare thigh.

He loosened his belt and slipped his top button free. “I have a conference call with The Brasch Group in half an hour.”

Looking anywhere besides his busy fingers wasn
’
t possible, and the dampness between her legs increased as his zipper descended. “That doesn
’
t give us much time.”

“Someone shouldn
’
t have spent so much time pretending not to see me.” He toyed with his waistband but didn
’
t push them down.

“Who’s teasing now?” she asked, her own need turning her voice husky.

Desire rushed through her, warming every inch of her already flushed skin. He knew all the right buttons to push and some she didn
’
t even know she had until she met him—like the decadent thrill she got when she put herself on display for him. Forcing her gaze up to his face, she watched him—as she always did—while unbuttoning her blouse completely.

The air sparked around them, a dangerous combination of sexual electricity and something more potent. Whatever it was, it only happened with him, and she didn
’
t want to be without it, not until she had to be and maybe not even then. Pushing the idea into a dark corner, she gave Dodge a saucy wink as she undid the last button.

“You…” He grabbed her hand and pulled her up from the chair so her body fit perfectly against his. “…are killing me.”

“But only the little death.” She wriggled out of her skirt—accidentally on purpose rubbing against him as she did so—and then laid back on the desk, letting her bare legs dangle over the edge.

Teasing time was over; after all, it had been their foreplay. Now she was more than ready for the real fun to begin. Dodge moved between her legs and pushed his pants down far enough that his hard cock sprung free. He rolled on a condom and brought himself in her with one firm thrust. It wasn
’
t slow and it wasn
’
t tender, but she loved it, needed it, just like this, because whatever was going on between them wasn
’
t always soft and gentle. It was big and intense and it eclipsed everything else in the world when she was with him.

Their hands were everywhere on each other, touching, caressing, urging each other on, and she gave as much as she took from him. With each in and out stroke, she rose higher, the sensation tightening inside her, blocking out everything else but them until her body couldn
’
t take the pleasure anymore, and her climax exploded.

“Dodge.” She muffled her cry into his shoulder as she came, and he buried himself deep within her as an orgasm shook his body.

“Damn, Harper.” His low gravel tone battled with the awe in his voice. “You undo me.”

She looked up into his green eyes, and what she was about to say died on her lips as her chest tightened. Dodge was not hers. She wasn’t his. This was a fling, a rebound, but it was starting to feel like more, and that was a complication she didn’t need.

“You okay?” he asked.

Blinking away a sudden onslaught of emotion, she swallowed the feelings bubbling up inside her and said the first non-I-like-you-more-than-I-should thought that came into her head. “Someone needs to take your mind off closing the big deal.”

He chuckled. “Are you about to drop an important lesson?”

“Nah, only remind you that there’s more to life than rubbing your success in your grandfather’s face.”

He kissed her neck. “Noted.”

An easy lightness lifted her even as her limbs were too heavy to move, and she relaxed back against her desk. Still riding the last waves of bliss, her gaze caught Dodge
’
s and she sighed, content and happy and satisfied beyond imagining. That
’
s when it hit her as hard as a backhand to the cheek. The procrastination. The delays. The slow forward progress. It was all because she wasn
’
t ready to walk away from Dodge, and she wasn
’
t sure she ever would be.

A
ny postcoital afterglow Dodge still had after the world
’
s fastest shower went dark as soon as he stepped into his office and found Frank, The Retreat
’
s head of security, pacing in front of his desk.

“We
’
ve got a problem.” Frank rammed his hand through what was left of his gray hair, the perma-grimace he always wore etched deeply into his craggy forehead.

Circling around his desk, Dodge asked even though he already knew the answer.

“The reporters are like fucking cockroaches
,” Frank grumbled, his New York accent as thick as the day he
’
d started ten years ago. “I get rid of one and two more show up next time I turn on the lights.”

Dodge shook out two Tums from the bottle in his top drawer and tossed them back, crunching them to bits with more force than was necessary. Harper wanted him to remember there was more to life than The Brasch Group deal. If she only knew…

The reporters had started showing up again three days ago. Harper
’
s ex-husband
’
s mistress had given an exclusive interview to some trashy tabloid and told the world that the senator from Vermont liked to wear adult diapers during their sordid encounters and had called Harper his mommy and the mistress his babysitter.

It had taken considerable effort to keep the news from Harper, but there were advantages to being in the middle of Wyoming where cell phone service was spotty. He
’
d ordered the staff not to mention it to Harper and to turn off any televised reports as soon as they
’
d started. So far it had worked, but the reporters kept showing up.

“What are we up to?” Dodge sank down into his seat, frustration, guilt, and indecision burning a hole through his gut.

“I
’
ve tossed that slimy little paparazzi photographer three times for trespassing. No arrests as you
’
d requested to keep everything on the down low. The more legitimate reporters hang around the gate waiting for a shot. I shooed them off again this morning. The Brasch guys are going to be here in two days to sign the paperwork. They aren
’
t going to like having to drive through a small pack of reporters to get to the front door. You
’
ve gotta do something.”

He was fucked no matter what option he picked. If he ignored the reporters, the deal would fall through and The Brasch Group would go with his grandfather
’
s hotels. If he sent Harper to the wolves, she
’
d never forgive him. He
’
d crossed her once on that topic and wasn
’
t going to do it again. Where was a celebrity with a drug habit when he needed one? In hiding right here at The Retreat, which, if they knew, would make the reporters at the gate turn rabid in order to get an exclusive on the recently dried-out Garth Hampton
’
s whereabouts. Dodge
’
s gut cramped. He was between the Grand Teton mountain and a hard place.

“So what
’
s the plan, boss?”

“The nuclear option.” He grabbed the phone and dialed. There was a chance his plan would backfire, that the reporters could make a national stink and claim intimidation, but to save Harper from having to know the jackals were hanging around—let alone talk to them—he
’
d risk it.
“Sheriff Vista, Dodge Loving here. I need your help getting the press away from here for a few days.”

S
weeping
up her messy desk hair—was that even a thing?—Harper gathered it into a high bun before using her towel to wipe the fresh steam from her bathroom mirror and checked her reflection. The shower had frizzed her hair, hence the bun, but the pink in her cheeks had more to do with Dodge than the hot water. Once she finally made it downstairs to the yoga studio for class someone was going to tease her about wearing makeup.

She signed in on the attendance registry and grabbed a pair of yoga pant
s and a tank top and got dressed. She couldn
’
t delay it much longer; her job was done and she needed to go home.
Home.
In the past week, Wyoming had begun to feel a lot more like home than Washington ever had. She couldn
’
t stay, but that didn
’
t mean she wanted to leave. More specifically, she didn
’
t want to leave Dodge.

The idea of getting on that plane in a few days made her sick to her stomach. She
’
d come to Wyoming for work, to create a new self-identity, not to fall in… Nope. She shook her head. She wasn
’
t going to even think that word. The ink on her divorce papers was still wet. Dodge was her rebound guy. That was all. That
’
s all it could be.

Two women on one of the afternoon news shows chatted on the TV screen in her room. Since she
’
d come to Wyoming, she
’
d taken a vacation from political news, but she needed to catch up. As soon as her plane landed at National, it would be politics all the time once again; it was the currency of the nation
’
s capital.

“
And we
’
ll be right back after these commercials to talk about the latest scandal rocking Washington,” one of the hosts said. “It
’
s a real doozy.
”

The screen cut from the woman in a red power suit to a commercial for prescription anxiety medication.

“
Poor fool,
” Harper said to herself as she shut off the TV. There was always some poor sap in the news for idiocy—their own or someone else
’
s—and was now having the worst week ever.
Been there. Done that
. Didn
’
t wish it on her worst enemy.

She grabbed her yoga mat and a towel before heading out the door and hustling to the yoga studio. May was already there, walking between the mats, making sure everyone had a yoga block and bottle of water.

“
Harper.
” May waved her over. “I saved you a spot here between Amelia Perkins and Skyler Fane. Ladies, this is Harper Conner. Amelia is The Retreat
’
s accounting genius and Skyler is a local kindergarten teacher. It
’
s the first time for both of them, and I thought you might be able to help them out.”

“I
’
m not exactly awesome at this.” Which was true. She still had trouble with tree pose.

“Don
’
t be silly. You do just fine.” May looked past Harper
’
s right shoulder, and her eyes widened. “Oh, Ms. Finty is trying to do the crow pose without warming up. She
’
s going to fall on her face and break her nose again.” She rushed off.

Harper smiled at Amelia, petite enough to make Harper feel like an Amazon, and Skyler, with her friendly, open face, looked like you
’
d expect a kindergarten teacher to look. “Hi.”