Dodging Temptation (The Retreat) (3 page)

“I had the most interesting conversation today in the meditation room with Harper,” May said.

Dodge straightened in his chair, his pulse hammering a little quicker through his veins. What a total stroke of luck. For as quiet as his dad was, his mom loved to talk the way Griff loved to chase women.

“What about?” He took his first bite of steak.

She beamed at him. “The universe and how it
’
s time for you boys to marry.”

Dodge choked on the steak lodged halfway down his esophagus. He gasped for air and the sanity that always seemed to elude him around his family. Stone
’
s giant hand slapped him between the shoulder blades, hard enough to shake the Grand Tetons let alone clear Dodge
’
s airway. He spit the mangled bite into his napkin.

“The universe doesn
’
t get a say in any of that,” Dodge said once he caught his breath.

“Whatever you say, sweetie. Just be sure to chew more carefully.” May smiled and took another forkful of organic salad. She looked serene.

Dodge
’
s palms turned sweaty, and he jiggled his knee under the table. His mom had the same at-peace-with-it-all look she
’
d had when she
’
d come to him before he left for college with an economy-sized box of condoms and a list of qualities that a girl would possess who would work well with his sexual aura. God love her, but boundaries weren
’
t her thing. Cloaking her matchmaking tendencies in a bunch of new age buzzwords didn
’
t hide her ultimate goal: marrying off her sons.

“I nominate Dodge to go first. He is the oldest.” Griff smirked at him while maintaining enough distance to avoid another direct elbow shot to the ribs. “I hope this Harper chick is hot.”

Only if a man went for that whole hourglass figure topped off with a model
’
s face and intelligent chocolate-colored eyes. “I hadn
’
t noticed.”

Stone laughed. “Then you need to get your eyes checked, big brother.”

Griff leaned forward and twisted so he was practically hanging over Dodge
’
s dinner plate to get a better look at Stone. “Well
,
don’t stop there. Details.”

Dodge looked from one brother to the other, letting his eyes tell them exactly what they could do with this little show of theirs. Some of this could be knocked up to giving him shit. However, it was also self-preservation. The more attention their mom focused on Dodge, the less she
’
d be trying to turn her matchmaking gaze on her other sons. If there were a zombie apocalypse, they
’
d lay down their lives for one another. But for one of their mother
’
s matchmaking adventures? It was every brother for himself. If the tables were turned, he’d be doing the same damn thing. Shit, he had a million times already.

Stone tipped his chin toward the ceiling, no doubt trying to figure out how to describe the delectable Harper in front of their parents, before dropping his gaze back down to his plate. “Let
’
s just say she hits his high points.”

Griff moved his hands in the exaggerated shape of a Hollywood bombshell.

Stone nodded, a smile playing on his lips, but kept his attention focused on his fast disappearing steak and sides.

“I hope this one gives him a run for his money.” Griff sighed dramatically. “He gets bored so easily.”

They were laying it on thick. Whether the point was to get his mother
’
s matchmaking juices flowing even more—if that was even possible—or to make him blow his top, he wasn
’
t sure. It didn
’
t matter, though, because neither was going to happen. There were more important things in his life than banging Harper Conner—like shoving success in the face of a wrinkled up racist relative. He sawed off a piece of his steak, using more force than was necessary, and the high-pitched screech of the knife on the ceramic plate betrayed his efforts to stay quiet.

“Careful there, brother,” Griff said, giving him an ornery wink before addressing Stone. “Do you remember Shana?”

Stone let out a wolf whistle. “She was nice.”

“Too nice.” May shook her head as she stabbed another forkful of salad. “No challenge there.”

Dodge shoveled a piece of potato-covered steak into his mouth, grinding what had become a tasteless morsel into oblivion, and ignored his brothers. Well, as much as he could when they were bound and determined to take advantage of the moment to make his life hell.

“Whatever happened to Madison?” Stone asked. “She had fire.”

“Just enough to dump his bossy ass.” Griff demolished the last of his baked potato dripping in an unholy combination of ketchup and ranch dressing.

“I
’
m right here, you know.” Dodge grumbled as he took another bite.

His brothers turned and said in unison, “We know.”

Of course they did. It wouldn
’
t be any fun if he wasn
’
t. Bastards.

“What
’
s Dodge
’
s new girl
’
s name, Mom?” Griff asked.

“She
’
s not my girl.” The protest shot out of his mouth louder and with more emphasis than he meant. Heat beat against his cheeks as frustration kicked his blood pressure up another twelve notches.

Griff shot him a shit-eating grin that plainly said he was enjoying every minute of his brother
’
s misery. “
Shh, don’
t interrupt your mother.”

Ignoring her other sons, May zoned right in on Dodge as if she could will the match. “Harper is her name, and she is lovely.”

“Lovely. Did you hear that, Griff?” Stone asked.

Griff nodded.
“That translates into total babe, doesn
’
t it?”

Stone took a long drink of water. “That would explain his interest.”

Every man had his breaking point, and Dodge had arrived at the precipice—his hands had gone from sweaty to clammy, his back couldn
’
t get any straighter if he had a fireplace poker up his ass, and a red haze had shaded his vision.

He slapped his palm against the table
’
s unyielding surface. “My only interest is getting her out of here. With the paparazzi attention she brings with her because of her past it’s only a matter of time before the press gets wind of Garth’s presence. If that happens, we’ll have a media shitstorm on our hands that will send The Brasch Group running as far away from us as possible. She brings the wrong kind of attention to The Resort.” Not to mention the family dinner table.

“What past?” Stone and Griff asked at the same time.

Dodge pulled out his phone and punched up the YouTube video of the press conference Harper
’
s then husband had held eight months ago. He
’
d watched it a million times already today. It started out as a typical politician-slept-around-and-got-caught press conference. Harper stood off to the side, even more pale than normal with a jaw so set he was surprised her teeth hadn
’
t cracked. Yada, yada, yada from her senator husband about how he
’
d betrayed his family and the people of the great state of Vermont, and it was time for Dodge
’
s favorite part. The bastard got down on one knee in front of Harper, held up a tiny blue tiffany box, and begged for her forgiveness. A flash of pure fury crossed her beautiful face for an instant before a serene mask fell into place. She looked down at the dumb bastard kneeling before her and whacked him with the mother of all bitch slaps right across the face. It nearly knocked him over. The gathered press went crazy, but Harper ignored them as she strutted out of the room.

Now that was a woman not to be messed with, just the kind he liked despite himself.

“Ouch.” Griff rubbed his right cheek. “You might not want to piss her off.”

“Or me,” May said. “She
’
s here at my request, and you
’
re not to try to bully her away. She
’
s in a delicate place in her life.”

Dodge snorted. Harper was about as delicate as a briar patch made out of titanium.

“I ran into her the other night in the kitchen,” Hale said. “That one is stress eating quarts of French vanilla during midnight fridge raids.” A look passed between his parents, and Hale followed up in a rush with, “Not that there
’
s anything wrong with that.”

“It
’
s better than her taking it out on his ugly mug.” Griff nodded his chin toward Dodge.

He ate the comeback on the tip of his tongue. If he was going to find her weakness so he could exploit it and get her the hell away from The Retreat before the reporters sniffing around her picked up Garth Hampton
’
s scent, there wasn
’
t much of a better way to do it than to strike while she had the ice cream spoon halfway to her lips. Without meaning to, he imagined her mouth—all dewy and pink—and all the things he
’
d like to do with it. The list was long, lurid, and totally unobtainable. Harper Conner wasn
’
t meant to be that kind of conquest for him. Tonight would be all about business.

Chapter Three

M
int chocolate chip was the only thing that would cure Harper
’
s day. Rocky Road would work in a pinch, but only if it had actual chocolate pieces mixed in with the creamy goodness. She shuffled through The Retreat
’
s empty, dimly lit kitchen in her PJs and bunny slippers, pausing
long enough to swipe a spoon out of a drawer before continuing on to the walk-in freezer. It wasn
’
t like she didn
’
t have the route memorized by now. She should probably just get a mini-fridge in her room instead of storing her chocolate-dipped stress relief in here.

Food in her room
…now that was something that would give her mother a conniption fit. Harper giggled as she imagined the look on her mother
’
s Botoxed face and pulled open the freezer door.

“Looking for this?” A deep voice echoed off the restaurant-grade stainless steel appliances, making it sound as if it came from nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

Screaming like the banshee her father had often accused her of being after The Slap, Harper spun around to face the invader, holding the silver spoon over her head like a weapon. The ice-cold wash of panic receded as quickly as it hit only to be replaced in an instant with an embarrassed flush.

Dodge Loving smirked at her and held out the small carton of Moose Tracks ice cream with her name scrawled across the lid in black marker. “Unless you wanted another flavor? You
’
ve got a collection going in there.”

The old Harper would have slunk off to her room to listen to her stomach grumbling in private rather than be even the slightest bit embarrassed. It was amazing how slapping her lying, cheating, dirtbag of an ex-husband on national TV changed a woman. “Actually, I wanted the mint chocolate chip.”

His gaze dipped down to the carton as if reading the name for the first time. “If you grab me a spoon, I
’
ll swap out the cartons.”

“Why?” He had an agenda—everyone always did when it came to her. Her parents had wanted a photogenic princess to parade in front of the press. Her ex-husband had wanted entry into the political elite. “You
’
ve already told me you want me gone so what
’
s with the nicey-nice act?”

“Because you have good taste in ice cream.” He shrugged his broad shoulders, pulling at the fine weave of his crisp white button-up shirt. “And because we got off on the wrong foot.”

From his polished Italian leather shoes to his titanium cuff links—even at midnight, Dodge looked every bit like a man she should stay away from. Type A. All about control. Way too used to getting his way for his own good. Still, there was just enough Wild West in him to snag her attention anyway. Not that she planned on doing anything about it no matter what May Loving thought the universe wanted. The last thing in the world Harper needed or wanted was to fool around and fall in love—her new, most-unfavorite four-letter word. However, that didn
’
t mean she should skip midnight ice cream. “I
’
ll get you a spoon.”

Twenty minutes and half a carton later they were facing each other as they sat on the stainless steel prep table in the middle of the kitchen with the carton of mint chocolate chip between them, each armed with a spoon. He
’
d ditched the shoes, rolled up his cuffs—revealing sinewy forearms that made her heart stutter—and told stories about how he ended up with the first name Dodge City.

“So all of you are named after old cowboy towns?” The idea of it was totally bizarre and endearing. Her being named Harper had scandalized her grandparents. Dodge City would have given them each a heart attack.

“Yep, my mother loves a theme.” He shook his head and laughed. “Stone is short for Tombstone and Griff is short for Fort Griffin.”

She scooped up a spoonful of ice cream, now melted more than when they
’
d started their midnight snack, and a line of green slipped over the edge. She stopped it with her finger before it could drip down to the table and licked the evidence off. “Did the other kids make fun of you growing up?”

When he didn
’
t answer right away she looked up. His mossy green eyes had darkened, and his gaze was locked in on her mouth. A flush burned its way up from her toes, and she scrambled to think of something to say before her panties spontaneously combusted. “For your n-n-name…” She stumbled over the words. “Did they tease you about your name?”

He winked and smirked, all cocky confidence and testosterone-fueled sex appeal. “Only once.”

If she could have gotten pregnant from a look, she
’
d be scheduling an appointment with her OB/GYN in the morning. Time to get out of this kitchen before the little seed of a romantic notion May Loving had planted took root and grew into the last thing Harper needed in her life right now. She
’
d spent her entire life up until eight months ago living by a script she
’
d never had any say in, let alone took part in writing. Neither the universe nor a my-way-or-the-highway hottie like the corporate cowboy here was taking her back there. She was her own woman now.

“You look like you
’
re getting ready to wrestle a buffalo,” he said.

“I hope not.” Her denial came out far too soft and breathy for a woman only experiencing a sugar high.

“
Then I
’
d suggest cleaning up a bit.” Dodge swiped his thumb across the corner of her mouth—soft and slow, coming away with a dab of mint chocolate chip on his thumb, which he sucked off. “The buffalo around here have a real hankering for ice cream.”

It took everything she had not to press her fingers to her tingling skin where he
’
d caressed her, as if her own touch could erase the sizzling sensation his had caused. It was only on that small space where her lips met, but it was the only thing she could feel. Her gaze held his, and her breath caught. There was no mistaking the want in his eyes. The air around them thickened, and words failed to materialize in her head.

Maybe it was the intimacy of the half-lit kitchen or the late hour, but she leaned forward over the carton between them without really meaning to. It wasn
’
t much
, an inch or two, but it was more than enough. He mirrored her move. Her eyes fluttered shut, and her lips parted in anticipation, then she detected a hint of icy mint before his warm lips covered hers.

T
his was going to get messy, Dodge knew, but he
’
d been cleaning up other people
’
s messes for most of his life. Why not take care of one of his own making for once, especially when the dilemma in question had some of the softest lips he
’
d ever wanted to kiss? Full to the point of pouty, Harpers
’
s lips woul
d tempt a saint standing in line at St. Peter
’
s gate. So he gave in, leaned forward, and claimed the pink mouth of a woman who
’
d told him only a few hours ago to take a flying leap off a tall cliff.

It was heaven, hell, and purgatory all mixed into one dangerous sensation that turned his entire body into one hard divining rod for her. Balancing his weight on his palms pressed firmly into the prep table, he leaned toward her, deepening the kiss and sliding his tongue into her warm mouth. She moaned and twisted her tongue around his, teasing and tempting until he wanted to cede control to the insanity of the moment, pull down her ridiculous pink and green pajama pants, and take her right here on the prep table. His dick strained against his zipper, ready and willing to comply with the desire fogging Dodge
’
s thinking. Hell, he wasn
’
t thinking—that was the problem.

The bonging of the ten-foot high grandfather clock in the dining room reverberated through the otherwise silent kitchen, pulling him back to reality. Any other time, any other place, and that kiss wouldn
’
t end now. He pulled back, missing the touch of her lips as soon as he lost contact. Not acceptable. He had to keep his eye on the problem at hand—namely Harper
’
s unexpected camera-toting entourage—or risk losing everything he
’
d worked so hard for when the deal with The Brasch Group fell through. Losing focus or control wasn
’
t an option, not at this point in the game.

“So…” She blushed, her cheeks turning the pink of dawn
’
s first light. “It
’
s getting late, and we both have to be up early tomorrow.”

His mile-long to-do list scrolled through his head. Number one on it was ridding the surrounding Wyoming countryside of unsavory varmints with telephoto lenses. “So you know The Retreat guarantees its guests their privacy.”

“That is one of the benefits of being out in the boonies, no offense.” She giggled, her face going from pink to red that nearly matched her hair.

“None taken.” Unable to help himself, he curled a long strand of her hair around his finger, imagining it spread out on his brown chest or, better yet, feeling its silkiness against his thighs, before forcing himself to tuck it behind her ear. “That photographer I found snooping around said there would be more, and he
’
s probably right. They won
’
t stop coming until you give an interview.”

She stiffened, transforming in a heartbeat from the woman he
’
d just kissed into the woman he
’
d tried to fire this morning—a spitfire sparking for a fight. “What about The Retreat
’
s dedication to privacy?”

Okay, he was fucking this up royally. “You
’
re not a guest, no offense.” He laughed at his lame joke, hoping to regain at least a little of their earlier equilibrium.

Harper didn
’
t even crack a smile. “Plenty taken.” She shook her head and let out a chagrinned sigh. “Is that what that little kiss was about? You thought you
’
d slip me some tongue and soften me up until I agreed to do something you know damn well I
’
m not going to do?”

“That
’
s not why I kissed you, and you know it.” Heat blasted up from his toes at her accusation. Dodge straightened his cuff links and took in a deep breath before he lost his cool, something he rarely—if ever—did. Ruthless? Determined? An overall pain in the ass most times? He
’
d admit to all of that and more, but he wasn
’
t a total douchebag. Rubbing his thumb over the titanium cowboy-boot cuff link like a talisman, he emptied the air from his lungs. “I can
’
t fire you, but I can make your time here less than enjoyable.”

“Is that a threat?” She crossed her arms, the move framing her generous tits and pressing her still hard nipples against the soft cotton of her
Book Nerd
T-shirt.

He yanked his gaze back up to her face. “
I don’
t have to threaten people.”

“Of course not.” She smirked, her brown eyes narrowing to slits. “People naturally fall to their knees and genuflect when you walk by.”

Now wouldn
’
t that be nice? “I
’
ll make the arrangements in the morning for the interview.” He
’
d call Phil at
The Ledger
first thing. “I promise it will be painless.”

“No you won
’
t, because I know your secret.” She stabbed her spoon into the half-empty ice cream carton like she was slicing into his heart.

He
’
d negotiated with tougher people than a woman who spent her days surrounded by stacks of dusty old books; her little bluff wasn
’
t going to make him flinch. “Nice try.”

Those pouty lips of hers curled into a Cheshire cat grin.

Shit. He hadn
’
t just made a mess of the whole midnight ambush; he
’
d created a Superfund cleanup site. Fuck. She thought she had his balls in a vise with her bluff, but she couldn
’
t be more wrong.

“I
’
m an open book, sweetheart.” Now who was bluffing? “
I don’
t have any secrets.”

“B
ullshit. If you don
’
t back off this crazy plan of yours to force me into doing an interview, I
’
ll reach out to every media outlet that will take my call and let them know that Garth Hampton is out of rehab and huddled up here at The Resort.” Just making the threat made the ice cream curdle in her stomach. She’d never put someone through the hell of
a media circus, not after living through it herself, but Dodge didn’t know that. For her bluff to work, she had to make it seem like she was the kind of coldhearted bitch who’d do it. So, instead of taking back her words, she retrieved her spoon and pretended to savor her last bite of ice cream while he choked down her news. “Keeping that little tidbit secret is really why you want me to do the interview, isn
’
t it?”

The vein in Dodge
’
s temple bulged, and his nostrils flared.
Oops, looked like she pissed off the corporate cowboy. Whatever would she do now?
She smiled with enough fake sugar to give him a toothache—at least her time at debutant training had finally come in handy.

“That
’
s blackmail,
” he said through clenched teeth.

“No. It
’
s hardball, and I learned it at the feet of a master. My father didn
’
t almost become president because he looks good on camera. It takes a hell of a lot more to claw your way to the top of that hill.” And it was about time she put Daddy
’
s unintentional lessons to use. She wasn
’
t about to let Mr. Tall, Dark, and Bossy run her off when she didn
’
t want to go. “I know your type, Dodge Loving. You
’
re used to always getting your way. Well, that
’
s not going to happen this time.”