One More Taste (19 page)

She stepped to his side, her eyes on the view, and splayed a hand out on the windowpane. “Which is why it can never happen again.”

Restraint and lust warred in his blood. He could reverse the conversation with one touch. He could pull her into his arms, carry her to his room, and spend the rest of the night ravishing her. He could once again ease that deep well of longing that only she could temper. “No, it can't.”

“Are you enjoying dinner?”

His gaze traced the line of her jaw to her delicate earlobe. A curl of her hair snagged in its ridges. His fingers itched with the urge to free it. “It's horrible.”

She flicked a glance in his direction. “I tasted it. It's perfection.”

“It has no soul. It's not you. And it's not me.” When had that become the touchstone? What happened to the notion that food was fuel? How could ten days in Emily's orbit set fire to such a fundamental philosophy—a symbol of the way he calibrated his life with precision. With control. Always playing by the rules.

My God, how had he allowed himself to go so far off course? Especially now, when he was so close to having everything he'd ever wanted? What would his father think of his behavior?

“Emily…” God, he hated the strain in his voice, the telltale weakness. The prayer infused in her name. Enough was enough. Time to put out the fire raging between him and Emily before it burned everything he'd staked his life on to the ground. He peeled away from the window and resumed his seat at the table. “You're right. I was being sarcastic about dinner being horrible. The truth is, it's exceptional and healthy and lean. Everything I look for in a meal. Great job. But I'm afraid this salmon's getting cold, so if you'll excuse me.”

He lifted his fork and forced his vision to tunnel to his food.

Still at the window, Emily's chef jacket rustled. She released a slow, jagged exhalation loaded with tension. He ground his molars together, tamping the urge to look her way. She had to know this was for the best. She had to agree. Neither of them wanted so much as a shadow of controversy in their lives. Neither of them could afford one.

Her footsteps sounded in retreat to the kitchen.

“Emily? I really am sorry.”

She stopped with a hand on the door. “Don't call me Emily. As if you know me so well. Let's keep it Briscoe and Ford from now on.”

With a proud carriage, she pushed through the kitchen door. He memorized the swish of her ponytail and the curve of her back, keenly aware that this was probably the last time he'd see her for a while.

*   *   *

On Friday, Knox woke up knowing that the day was special. He put a little extra verve in his steps during his morning jog, and he'd dressed with meticulous purpose. His father's cufflinks. His lucky hat. Not that he needed it because this morning, one week after their initial visit, the structural engineers were returning to the resort to have a second look before presenting their findings to Knox and Ty, and this time, they were bringing a geologist along. Fancy that. Wonder what findings they'd present at their meeting with Ty and Knox afterward.

He slid his truck key into the ignition with extra care, then turned his eyes heavenward. “If you were ever going to let your truck drive onto the resort, today's the day. You could have a front row seat to see the look on Ty's face.”

He turned the key.

Click. Click.

He banged on the steering wheel. “Really?”

Too agitated to sit, he jumped out of the truck, fighting to keep his good mood in place. “Why? You wanted this to happen. You told me over and over that you wanted this for the resort, and for me. Why not support me now? What am I doing wrong?” On a whim, he leaned on the side mirror as Emily had done, talked to it as if it were an ear. “Dad, this is a good thing. The next step toward justice. Your brother's a criminal, your father was a criminal, and they both screwed you over. It's time to make things right.”

With a decisive crack, the mirror snapped off, sending Knox stumbling for footing. When he regained his balance, he glared at the mirror, dangling by its wires. “What the hell kind of sign is that?”

Of all the possible days, today he didn't have time to interpret whatever random message his dad was sending him from the great beyond. He whipped out his phone and called Haylie's cell phone number. She had to be on her way to work, too. But she didn't pick up the line. Unwilling to waste time running through his contact list, he accessed his Cab'd app and made a request.

Ten minutes later, a car pulled around Knox's driveway. This was not Ralph in the Cab'd luxury sedan, but a dull maroon economy car carrying a rounder, middle-aged gentlemen with a pencil mustache, slicked-back, black hair, and a slightly manic smile that reminded Knox vaguely of Gomez Addams from
The Addams Family.
Knox looked at his app's read out. Paco. The name sounded vaguely familiar, though he couldn't recall where he'd heard it.

Paco stuck his head out his open window. “Hey, I know you! You're June's grandson! Climb on in and let Paco take you for a ride.”

All right. No problem. He assumed the front passenger seat. “Thanks, though it's not much of a ride. We're only going to Briscoe Ranch.”

“Oooh, it's my lucky day. Maybe I'll park and take a look around, see if I can find June.” He smoothed a hand over his hair. “How do I look?”

“Er…”

Steering with his knee, Paco unwrapped a mint and popped it in his mouth. “June, you know, she's a classy lady. I've definitely had to up my game.”

Knox didn't usually think of
classy
and
Granny June
in the same sentence, but Paco's gushing opinion of her was kind of sweet. “Are you two dating or something?”

Paco let out a belly laugh. “Only in my dreams.”

Okay, that was a little less sweet, and a bit more creepy. Also, way more information than Knox needed to know. Thankfully, they arrived at the resort's circular drive in record time. Knox tossed a twenty on the seat as a tip. “Thanks for the lift, Paco.”

Paco rolled down the passenger window and dipped his head to smile at Knox. “Wish me luck with your grandma!”

Yeah, no.
Knox braced his hands on the car door. “How about this instead? You treat her right and I won't have to kick your ass.” He'd never threatened to kick anyone's ass over a woman's honor, because Shayla had never needed his help, and neither had his mom, but it felt good, having family to protect for a change. Ironic, given the way the day was going to unfold, but nice all the same. He smiled and tapped his brow in a two-fingered salute to Paco, then tipped his hat to the worker manning the valet booth as he walked through the sliding double doors.

Haylie was not at her desk. Her arrivals in the morning were getting later and later. Add to that her frequent lunches that often ran much longer than an hour, and which she sometimes returned from reeking of cigarette smoke, and the picture of her job performance wasn't a pretty one. He liked Haylie a lot, but it was time to crack down.

He rounded the corner into his office to see Ty sitting in Knox's chair behind the desk.

“This again?” Knox said, refusing to be ruffled by the surprise.

“You and I need to talk.”

Knox set his messenger bag on the floor next to the desk. “I thought we were already doing that, all day, every day.”

“Your engineers are back this morning.”

No wonder Ty was sweating. “Good. They're early.”

Could have been an optical illusion, but Knox swore he could see the sweat sprouting on Ty's cue ball head. “We don't need them. I've got my own team of inspectors I usually use. A top-notch company, one that knows the area. How ‘bout I give them a call and we send your city boys packin'?”

Knox eyed the bottle of scotch near the door. Was it too early to celebrate his victory?
Nah.

He poured shots into the two lowball glasses that shared a tray with the bottle, then handed one to Ty and settled into one of the chairs across from the desk.

“What's this for?”

Knox's response to that question could go in so many different directions. Hard to pick just one. “To help calm your nerves.”

“What do you think I have to be nervous about?” Ty snapped.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Mr. Briscoe?” It was one of the engineers, looking deadly serious. “I know it's early, but there's something you're going to want to see.”

Perfect timing. Knox gave his best fake look of concern. “Is everything all right?”

“Well, no, actually. We've found a problem. A big one. It's why we brought Ron, the geologist, with us today, to double check that we were drawing the correct conclusions.”

Ty tossed back his second serving of scotch.

“Come on in. Give it to us straight,” Knox said.

The engineer took a sheepish step into the room. “The problem is, the original structure should never have been placed where it is. The make-up of the soil and the proximity to the lake could have supported a single-family dwelling, but not a building this size. The hill that the building is built on cannot support its weight, hydrologically or geologically. In fact, the building has already started to creep downhill. We found evidence deep in the foundation. All it would take was one big storm or, worse, a measurable snowfall, which has been known to happen in these hills, historically, and y'all could be in real trouble.”

The situation was even worse than Knox and his engineer buddy had estimated. Excellent.

“Will we be able to save the buildings?”

“We think so, but it'll cost you.”

“That's hard news to take,” Knox said.

“I know that, sir, which is why we'd like to show you for yourselves what we're talking about, if you'd just follow me.”

Knox made to stand, but Ty gestured him back down. “Tell us where. We'll meet you there in a minute,” Ty said, sounding far more composed than Knox knew him to be.

As soon as the engineer had left, Ty sloshed the scotch back, then rose from the desk. He closed the door, then refilled his glass with scotch. “You have no idea the damage you've done bringing those fools in.”

What Knox had done? Oh, please.
Knox stepped around his desk until he was behind it. As discretely as possible, he clicked the record button on his computer's camera. “What are we going to do about this? The inspectors say the building's sinking toward the lake. They say the foundation's cracked.”

Ty swabbed his brow with a cocktail napkin, then took a seat in a guest chair, seemingly unaware of the musical chairs they were playing. “We can make this go away. We'll get a second opinion. The guys I told you about. I've been working with them for decades, and they're amenable to persuasion.”

“You think we should bribe them? Are you insane?”

“No, but you've proven to be disappointingly naïve. This is the way business works ‘round these parts. The Briscoe way. If you don't like it, then just close your eyes. I told you I'd take care of everything. And I will.”

Oh, hell, no. “But what if the building failed? What if guests got hurt? You heard the guy. One bad storm and the resort could slide into the lake.”

“The Briscoes have been on this land for nearly a hundred years, first my grandparents as a farm, and then my parents when they turned it into a hotel. My father had an unorthodox building style, but he got the job done. The hotel he built has stood the test of time. We've never had a problem and we never will. The land is solid.”

Time to go for the jugular. “You've known about this land problem all along, haven't you?”

“Would it matter if I did?” Ty said.

“You duped me,” Knox said. “You duped me and my investment team. We paid a premium to buy into the resort, and come to find out we flushed millions of dollars down the toilet because you inflated the value of the property with your scam.”

“I didn't dupe you. I was protecting my business. My family. Our family. Like you should be doing right now.”

Our family?
That was funny. “Now you want me to collude with you on this new lie? You want me to break the law and put hundreds of guests and employees at risk. Is that seriously what you're asking of me?”

“You sit there pretending that you can compartmentalize business and family, but this business was built on the backs of our family. It's all about family, and always has been, and I won't let you bastardize what we've created. So I'm asking you, man to man, Briscoe to Briscoe, to shut up and follow my lead. I'm still the CEO of this business, so the call is mine to make.”

“For the record, you and I are not family in any way that counts. And you're only the CEO for now. And that call is Briscoe Equity Group's to make, as the controlling partners. That's my company, in case you'd forgotten, so I'm pretty sure they'll heed my recommendation to fire you.”

Just like that, the last vestiges of their mentor/protégé illusion, along with any semblance of civility, shattered.

Ty rose again, looming over the desk. “You ungrateful son of a bitch.”

Knox tipped back in his chair and propped his boots on the desk, inches from Ty's nose, forcing him to back off. “I'm ungrateful? So, what, you expected me to go along with your plan because we're family? Briscoe to Briscoe, like you said?”

“That's right,” Ty growled from behind clenched teeth.

“You're counting on me to stand in allegiance with you, to break the law with you, because we're family, and family doesn't let a business divide them.” Knox tipped his head back, face to the ceiling. “You hear that, Dad? Ty thinks I owe him a pledge of solidarity because we're family.”

Ty's head was so red and filled with so much steam, it was a wonder his eyes didn't pop out of their sockets. “Don't you dare bring him into this.”