One More Taste (34 page)

“What?”

“I miss you. And the food around here sucks.”

She let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, it does.”

He nodded toward the stairs. “Will you invite me up to your apartment?”

“I don't think that's a good idea tonight, what with all that tiredness and confusion and fear.”

“May I at least carry your suitcase upstairs?”

“I'm pretty sure I can manage.” She drew a fortifying breath, then asked him the question still plaguing her. “What are you doing here, Knox? Here, at the gym, with a lifetime membership?”

His expression turned intense and tender all at the same time. “I go after what I want.”

Wrong answer.
“I'm not a business you can acquire.”

“I'm aware.” He brushed past her and took her suitcase handle, then started up the stairs with it. Rather than fight him on that, she followed. “Isn't it ironic, though, that that's exactly how this whole mess started? You came to my office demanding a chance to prove how valuable a business investment you would be. And you were right.”

He set her suitcase as far into the hall as he could reach, but he remained rooted on the top stair, as though to let her know he didn't plan on pushing any farther into her personal space.

Angling around him, she crested the stairs and faced him, no longer fearing the intensity or heat of his gaze. He was such a strong man, so proud and unequivocally male. She brushed her thumb over a bead of sweat at his temple. “I can't work for you.”

“That's not what I want from you anymore. The other irony of this all is that in accepting your challenge to prove your culinary worth, I discovered that you are far more valuable to me than a business investment.”

His words left her breathless with longing to feel that inexplicable electricity that thrummed between them whenever they touched. She was not emotionally equipped to hash things out with him yet. Soon, but not tonight, not with that grenade of an envelope to open and process. But maybe just one hug before she went inside. One hug to sustain her while she sorted through the paperwork in the envelope Charles Welk had given her. She cupped Knox's neck and pulled him to her, nuzzling in close. Her whole body shuddered with relief at the feel of his strong arms enveloping her.

She smooshed her lips and nose against the cold, sweaty skin of his chest. “I can't do this tonight, Knox. Soon, but not tonight. I need time. Space.”

The heat of him radiated against her skin. He burrowed his nose into her hair. “I know, and it's okay. If you'll allow it, then I'd like to keep training with Big Tommy. I've had a lot on my mind. It's been good to fight it out. I don't think I understood how much anger I was carrying around, at Ty, at the situation, until I started to unleash it in the ring.”

“I'll allow it.”

His arms tightened around her back and he brushed a kiss across her cheek. “Thank you,” came his whispered words. “You were right to quit, by the way. That's something I figured out this week. You were right that we can only be together as equals.”

That was just about the last thing she'd expected him to say. She backed up so she could tilt her face up to look at him.

“I held your future and your career and your home in my hands. I was controlling you without meaning to. That's my comfort zone. Control all the odds, control the outcome. I can't control how I feel about you. I can't control what this is. You have humbled me, Emily.”

She knew what she felt for him, but it had never occurred to her that he might have feelings for her that mirrored her own, or even come close. “And what is it that you feel?”

There was no hesitation in his reply. “I'm in love with you. Desperately.”

A rippling ache of longing coursed through her, visceral enough that her body swayed with the effort of resisting its force. She was in love with him, too. Just as desperately. But life had taught her the hard way that love wasn't enough, not if it compromised a person's autonomy and happiness. Her eyes pricked again, perilously close to shedding tears. “Knox…” she started, though it was the only word she could push past the lump in her throat.

“You don't have to say anything tonight. I know you're weary from your trip. You once called me out for being impatient—right before you spilled peach soup all over me, if memory serves. But I want you to know that I'm going to be patient about this. When you're ready to deal with us, you let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” she croaked.

He brought his hands up to her face and touched his fingertips to her cheeks, tipping her head back enough to slot his mouth over hers. She closed her eyes and opened to him, giving herself over to the salty taste of his lips and the warm caress of his tongue.

“Goodnight, Emily.”

And then he released his hold on her and started back down the stairs.

She stood stock-still, focusing on the lingering sensation of his kiss, until the sound of his footfalls faded away. Willing her body to function again, she dug through her purse for her keys. She didn't release her exhale until she'd closed the door of her apartment behind her, her thoughts warring between disappointment and relief that he hadn't pushed her to come inside.

She reached into the external pocket on her suitcase and pulled out the envelope. Bracing her back against the door, she slid down it until she sat on the floor. She ripped the envelope open and pulled out the bank statement, her eyes zooming in immediately on the total.

All those zeroes. Seven of them.

She was a multimillionaire.

Closing her eyes, she let the papers fall to the floor beside her as she imagined the possibilities. She could donate it all to a center for teen runaways and wash her hands of her parents once and for all. Or she could use it to open the restaurant of her dreams.

The devil and angel on her shoulders shouted over each other for her attention.

Take their money
.
They owe you.

While the other one said,
Don't surrender. Don't let them poison your life with their blood money.

The trouble was, keeping the money would change her life in all the ways she wanted.

She wouldn't need the Briscoes' or any investors' help to make her dreams come true. She would never again be tempted to twist herself into a pretzel for a job or a man. For the first time in her life, she would be utterly and completely free.

 

Chapter Twenty

Early Friday morning, after a particularly brutal and unsuccessful sparring session with Joe Boy, one of Big Tommy's closest associates, Knox was striding across the resort grounds en route to the office from where he'd parked his truck just outside the gate when a text from Shayla sounded on his phone.

Head's up. You got an offer on Briscoe Ranch. Healy and Sandomir are headed your way.

He dialed Shayla's number.

“An offer? From whom? We weren't looking for an offer.”

“Hey, bro.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “It's chaos around here. People are going nuts, choosing sides and talking shit about you and Healy when they think no one can hear them.”

What the hell happened? Knox thought everything was in the bag, though the paperwork for the transfer of Ty's company shares to Knox had yet to go through while all the lawyers vetted the deal. “The offer, Shayla.”

“Right. Sorry. It came in about an hour ago. Not that any of the partners told me, but they've been locked up in the conference room and I'm a hella good eavesdropper. My money's on the theory that Healy went behind everyone's back to tip off Lux Universal that the business was up for grabs. He was pretty vocal against your plan.”

Knox ground to a stop. “The offer's from Lux Universal? Please tell me you're kidding.”

Lux Universal consistently ranked in the top ten property management companies in the world in net worth. They specialized in beachfront luxury condos and timeshares. Briscoe Equity Group had sold them a property a few years back, a high-rise hotel perched on a sliver of beachfront in the Florida Keys that Lux was going to repurpose as timeshares. Doing business with them had been a cakewalk because once Lux decided they wanted a property badly enough, they were willing to throw buckets of money at the buyers, making their offers nearly impossible to refuse.

“I wish.”

A niggle of fear started in Knox's chest. “What could they possibly want with Briscoe Ranch? It doesn't fit their profile at all.”

“That was my thought, too. And none of the investment partners have contacted you yet?” Shayla said.

“No.” Could it be that his own equity firm was trying to box him out of ownership of his family's business by going around his back to accept a better offer? Like Shayla, he wouldn't put it past Healy to pull something like that. Hell, for all he knew, Healy and the rest of the partners were trying to box him out of Briscoe Equity Group, the company he'd founded. It happened in the business world often enough. Carl Karcher, Steve Jobs, and Jerry Yang of Yahoo were three examples that sprang to mind.

Knox held his phone out to check the time. Still early in the day. “You said Healy and Sandomir are on their way to Dulcet?”

“Yes. They're taking Sandomir's private jet. They wanted to talk to you in person.”

Knox let his gaze roam over the resort grounds. If Healy and Sandomir wanted a fight, then he'd give it to them. The resort was worth it. It was time to look his colleagues in the eye and make the case once more for giving him a shot at restoring the resort to a profitable business. “Thanks, Shayla. I'll be waiting.”

“You've got this, bro. Call me afterwards, okay? And good luck.”

Three hours later, right on schedule with the ETA Shayla had texted him, Knox met Healy and Sandomir in front of Briscoe Ranch Resort's lobby. “Gentlemen, I wish I could say I'm surprised.”

Healy offered him a smile that wasn't at all friendly. “Good. Shayla called. We wanted you to be ready.”

Did they? “You sure have a funny way of showing it.” He tipped his head toward the building. “Let's head straight to my office. I'm eager to hear about this deal.”

Healy sneered at the Spanish-style fountain in the lobby, then stopped to pick at a chipped tile. “This place is a money pit.”

He wasn't far off, but neither profit nor revenge was Knox's bottom line any longer. “Be that as it may, this is my family, which makes it about more than money to me.”

Sandomir harrumphed. “That's a change of tune from our last meeting about Briscoe Ranch, when you convinced us to hold tight until we sold for a profit.”

Knox ushered them around behind the front desk and through the glass door leading to the offices. Haylie was at her desk, reading a magazine that she tried valiantly to hide when she noticed Knox's approach.

“Morning, Haylie. Hold my calls and see that we're not disturbed by anyone. You remember Roger Healy and Boris Sandomir from my Dallas office?”

She wiggled her fingers at them, which Knox supposed was as deferential and business-like as Haylie had it in her to be at the moment.

“Right this way,” Knox said, leading the way into his office, then closing the door firmly behind Healy.

Healy headed to the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the golf course and lake, while Sandomir sank into one of the chairs opposite Knox's desk. “As I was saying,” Sandomir said. “You changed your tune, Knox.”

Knox assumed a seat at his desk. “You're right. I did. I never expected this business venture to become so personal.” Which was a total lie, if he really thought about it. Investing in the resort had been personal long before he'd ever brought his team of equity partners on board. It was only the nature of Knox's personal bias that had changed. The vendetta that had once consumed his thoughts of the future had been replaced by hope. As corny as it would sound if he said it aloud, he'd been changed by love.

Healy turned from the window. “The problem is, to the rest of us, this is still just business as usual. It doesn't bring us pleasure to go against your wishes or evict your family from their homes and place of business, but this is the nature of the beast with private equity firm investments. You know that. If we got heartsick for every employee we laid off or underperforming company we shut down, we'd be in the wrong business.”

Healy had a point, but that didn't give him the right to run roughshod over Knox's change of heart. “You're right. The business hasn't changed, and I didn't expect any of you to, either. But I have. And I would have thought that I earned more consideration from you for my position after all these years. And my position right now is that I want Briscoe Ranch.”

Healy strolled to the empty chair next to Sandomir and took a seat. “You might not have a choice. Look, Knox. Lux Universal made us a generous offer. And the lawyers are still hashing out the details of your buyout arrangement with Ty. Nothing's been signed yet. You're the minority partner in this situation still. I'm speaking on behalf of the majority of our investors when I say that we want out of this money pit. Lux Universal is giving us that chance.”

Frustration and panic churned in Knox's stomach and tightened his throat. They weren't hearing him out. They'd already made up their mind, which was frustrating as hell. “You're not in this particular money pit that deep, Healy. It's nothing you can't afford. You probably wipe your ass with more money than you've personally sunk into this place.”

“They're offering seventy-five million dollars for the land and the business,” Sandomir said.

Jesus H. Christ, that was a lot of money. Way over the resort's true valuation. “You told them about the geological and hydrological issues? The cracked foundation? And they still made us an offer like that?”

“We told them, but they don't care about any of that. They've decided the location is worth more than the business, and they're right. They're going to raze the whole place and start over. Part of a new direction for their company. A high-end retirement community, timeshare, and golf course, one of those mega-complexes that they like to build, but this one for seniors. It's all the rage right now, or so they said.