Solid Gold Seduction (The Drakes of California) (2 page)

Chapter 2

“Y
ou’ve got a problem?” Richard, pretty boy and eternal ladies’ man, took a step toward Charli, eyeing her much like a hungry dog would a biscuit. “Well, baby girl...I’m a problem solver.”

If looks could kill, for Richard it would have been time for ashes to ashes and dust to dust. Her eyes slid from him to Jackson and back before returning to Warren.

Richard backed up, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

“I’ve got a problem with your fence. You’ve enclosed the stream that my cows have used for the last ten years. The next water source is two miles away.”

Warren’s first thought was wondering how her cows were his problem. He didn’t have long to wait for clarification.

“That stream is on Reed land.”

Warren looked at Jackson, who gave a slight nod and walked to a large black pickup. “My people had the land surveyed five years ago, when the first vines were planted. The fence was erected based on those specs.”

“I don’t care what the paper says. That stream is for my cows. We need access. You need to move your fence.”

Warren scowled. Who did this gorgeous cup of cocoa think she was? “I’m sorry, but you must be mistaken.”

Jackson returned from his truck with survey in hand. He unrolled it, giving one end to Warren to hold while he held the other and pointed to property lines. “Here is the lake, Ms. Reed,” he said, pointing to the paper. “And here is the Drake property line.”

Charli glanced at the paper and said nothing.

“We had everything double-checked before we erected the fence,” Warren said as Jackson rolled up the proof and placed it under his arm. “Not only against the original paperwork filed at the courthouse, but with another top-rate surveyor.” He crossed his arms, matching her stance. “All of the property within the fence is mine.”

“How many acres is this—” she spread her arms “—property of yours?”

“I can’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Maybe not. But it’s a shame that with all that you own we’re standing here squabbling about a half acre or less that you probably won’t even see, let alone that you’ll need.”

“Be that as it may, it’s my land and my fence.”

A stare-off ensued, during which time Warren took note of a few things: the color of her eyes, her kissable long neck and how even with an oversize shirt he could tell that she was wearing the hell out of that pair of jeans.

“My contractor and I need to get back to work. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Yes.” Charli spun on her heel, placed a well-worn boot into the stirrup and swung up onto the chestnut-colored stallion in one fluid motion. “You can go to hell.”

Warren watched the trail of dust that followed his feisty neighbor down the winding drive. “You know,” he drawled to Jackson and Richard as she rounded the bend and galloped out of sight. “I think Miss Charli needs to learn how to say how she really feels.”

* * *

Charli used long, strong brushstrokes on the horse’s coat, thankful to have something to do. She was still ticked off—okay, livid—after her encounter with her jerk of a neighbor, Warren Drake. Even after riding hard all the way home, going past her house and giving the horse his head for a good five minutes. After helping the ranch hands round up a herd of cattle, and tossing up heavy bales of hay for the next day’s feeding, there was still enough pent-up frustration for her to go fifteen rounds with a punching bag. Or a neighbor.

For the past two years, ever since she’d returned to the land she loved and regained the reins of her grandfather Charles Reed’s dream to stave off a foreclosure, Charli had been exhausted but content. She’d finally found the peace that had eluded her for the past few years, peace that had first been shattered when her grandfather—her rock—died, and then had further been obliterated by the dissolution of an engagement that never should have occurred. Coming back to the ranch had been like coming home. Most of the old hands still worked there, and treated her with the respect they’d given Charles Reed. The house manager, whom she called her play uncle, Griff, was now the closest thing she had to family and treated her like his own. It hadn’t hurt that all of them had known her since she was knee-high to a gnat, or that she could ride and rope with the best of them—a country girl through and through.

“I can’t believe the audacity of that man,” she grumbled in time with the brushstroke.
Or how tall and handsome he is, or how his muscles flexed when he crossed his arms.
“Arrogant jerk.”
Blessed with a cleft
and
dimples? How unfair!
Her grandfather had talked about the Drakes, how they’d swept into town decades ago, buying up acres of land. What had once been miles and miles of empty fields eventually became Paradise Cove, incorporated by Walter’s son, Ike Drake Sr., and his highbrow friends.

“They’re a bunch of self-absorbed, bourgie possums, Gramps, just like you said.” But what he hadn’t told her was how handsome a Drake man could be, or what to do when just five minutes in his presence had made her heart go boom.

Chapter 3

“S
on! This is a surprise.” Jennifer Drake stood back from the door so that Warren could enter the oversize foyer.

“Hello, Mom.”

She reached up to give him a hug. “Where are Richard and Jackson?”

“Dropped Richard back off at his apartment. As we were wrapping up, Boss got a phone call that forced him to cancel his plans to join us.”

“From whom?”

“Diamond. She flew up to surprise him with a romantic weekend in San Francisco.”

“Oh, that’s a lovely thing for his wife to do.”

Warren’s father, Ike, came around the corner, a predinner tumbler of scotch in hand. “Hey there, Warren. How’d it go today?”

“It was interesting.”

“Son, can I fix you a drink?”

“Sure, Mom. Thanks.”

“Will you be staying for dinner? The twins are coming over.”

“Don’t they always?” They could consume a whole pig between the two of them, but it was no secret that neither Terrell nor Teresa, Warren’s younger siblings by two years, liked to cook. “What about Niko?”

“Out on a date.” Jennifer didn’t try and hide her chagrin for Warren’s older brother’s choice.

“He must be with Ashley.”

“I don’t know why he can’t see what’s painfully obvious. That girl is chasing dollar signs.”

“Now, Jennifer,” Ike said, his voice somber and a tad chiding. “He’s a grown man. We’ve done our job in raising him. He has to make his own way.”

Jennifer prepared to say something, thought better of it and left the room to get Warren’s scotch.

“Come on, son.” Ike headed into the great room. Warren followed behind, noting the vases of colorful and fresh flowers they passed on the way, evidence of his mother’s artistic hand. When he married, Warren wanted someone like her: beautiful, strong, intelligent, classy.

His father took a seat in one of two leather wingback chairs. Warren took the other one. “So you say your day was interesting. How so?”

“I met my neighbor.” Ike took a sip as he nodded, listened. “She wasn’t too happy to see me.”

“She?”

“That was my reaction.” He paused as Jennifer brought in his tumbler of scotch. He took a taste as his mother sat on the nearby couch. “Her name is Charli Reed.”

“Reed?” his parents said at once.

He looked from one to the other and didn’t miss their raised-brow exchange. “What’s up with that reaction?”

“Just surprised, son, that’s all. We thought the Reeds had sold that place a few years ago, after Charles died.”

“Who’s Charles?”

“He used to be in business with your grandfather,” Jennifer offered, placing her crystal flute of sherry on the table.

“It was after he was honorably discharged from the service.”

“After his injury?”

Ike nodded. “They had another buddy who told him about the property, which at that time went for pennies on the dollar. They bought up all one thousand acres and at one time had a modestly profitable dairy farm.”

“Then on a trip back home to New Orleans he met your grandmother and moved back home.” Jennifer sat back on the couch and wiped a nonexistent wrinkle from her slacks. “But you’ve heard this story, Warren. I’ve heard Grandpa sharing it with you boys.”

“I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

“What happened when you met the woman?” Ike asked.

“She came galloping up on this impressive-looking horse, dismounted and demanded I move my fence. Said her cattle needed access to the stream on our land.”

“Ike, do you think that’s his granddaughter?”

He nodded at Jennifer. “Sounds like it. You said her name is Charli?”

“Yes,” Warren replied.

“Then that’s her.”

“So our grandfathers owned a business together once. That still doesn’t explain her nasty attitude.”

Ike leaned back, stretched his long legs out in front of him. “Their parting, which started out amicably, soured over the years.”

“What happened?” Both parents were slow to respond. “Wait, this doesn’t have anything to do with the gold, does it?”

“Not really,” Jennifer said. “They found what little bit of gold there was when the property was owned jointly and split it fifty-fifty.”

“So what was it then?”

“When Daddy decided to move back to New Orleans, the dairy was doing fairly well but the cash flow wasn’t exceptional. He helped Charles by buying up the acres that weren’t being used—”

“Six hundred acres, right?” That’s how many acres there had been before Warren had purchased several hundred more.

“Seven hundred initially,” Ike continued. “Daddy bought the land, Charles kept the business. They shook hands and all was well.”

Jennifer continued the story. “Several years later, Charles came to your grandfather and asked to buy back some land. Daddy Walter wasn’t keen on it but Charles was persistent, saying that he needed more land for the cows. Finally, Daddy Walter agreed to sell him one hundred acres—at a price well below market value I might add—but that was it. Later, when the dairy farm experienced an exceptionally good year financially, he asked to buy back more of the land. Charles knew how well your grandfather had done in real estate and didn’t see why he was interested in holding on to property he didn’t even visit. He asked more than once. Each time Daddy Walter refused, finally letting him know in no uncertain terms that what he’d purchased would remain Drake property. Their relationship was never the same after that.”

“Daddy thought that Charles might have heard rumors about more gold on the land and was resentful over that, though Charles denied it,” Ike said.

“Could that be possible? Is there more gold on the land?”

“I don’t think so, Warren. We all know the history and Daddy and Charles had surely heard the rumors. They spent a good deal of time and money searching when they first moved here, but aside from that one small vein that was found and mined, they had no luck. I think if there was any grand buried treasure, they would have found it.”

The doorbell rang, followed by the sounds of several people entering the house.

“That would be your brother and sister,” Jennifer said. “In here, children!” She left the room to greet them.

“So do you think I should move the fence, Dad?”

“That’s going to have to be your call, son. But just remember, if you give some people an inch...they’ll take a mile.”

Warren and Ike joined Jennifer and his siblings at the table. Talk of land and fences was replaced with that of plans for the town’s annual Days of Paradise Gala, a three-day event celebrating the town’s beginning. Fairgrounds would be set up on the north end of town. There would be a parade, various contests and the pinnacle of the festivities: the Paradise Ball. The women conversed about what family favorite Jennifer should bake for the pie contest, and what designer original they’d wear to the dance. The men talked about how Drake Realty Plus would be showcased in the parade. Niko had secured a fully restored 1975 Caprice convertible—metallic gold with wide, white rims. The car, built in the year that Paradise Cove had been incorporated, would tow a thirty-foot billboard specially designed for the day, covered with a mural of old and modern-day Paradise Cove and containing the words
Drake Realty: Homes with a Heart for 30 Years...and Counting!
Throughout the appetizer, entrée and dessert they talked, laughed and strategized. Warren answered questions when asked and commented as needed. But his mind wasn’t on the upcoming festivities. It was on a feisty woman with an attitude and a body that made his blood boil.

Give some people an inch...they’ll take a mile. That’s what his father had said.
Well, Daddy,
Warren thought as he watched his mother pour cups of tea.
I might just have to take that chance.

Chapter 4

W
arren thought about riding over. Jumping on Coal, the Thoroughbred stallion he’d purchased several years ago when he was still a pony. Thought about kicking up dust and laying down grass, much like Charli had done when arriving at his place. He’d been impressed with her horsemanship and a part of him wanted to show her that she wasn’t the only one who could sit in a saddle and handle business.

Warren had been riding horses since he could walk and of all of his brothers was the one most connected to the land. But he bypassed the stables and headed to the makeshift parking lot that when finished would be a circular design that could comfortably hold a dozen vehicles or more. He’d drive over, like most people would in the twenty-first century.
I’m not trying to impress her; no reason to.
This thought entered his mind as he opened the door to his cherry-red Maserati and slid inside.

After discussing it with his brother and Jackson, he’d come up with an answer to his neighbor’s problem. Not that he needed to, mind you. What happened on her land with her property was not his responsibility. No sirree, as his grandfather would say. And even though he’d be sure and keep mindful of the mile his father warned some would take for an inch of kindness, Warren also heeded his mother’s words to “play nice” and his own desire to take a chance.

* * *

She sensed him first. Before seeing the dust, before hearing the car, Charli felt a squiggle go from her core to a place that had seen little action in the past two years. Rising from her kneeling position where she’d been pulling the weeds trying to get friendly with her kales and collards, she shielded her eyes from the midday sun and squinted. Rare for a car to be coming down this road and she wouldn’t know who it was. But she did know. Could sense that it was him. One of them. One of the bourgie possums. Who else would drive such a swanky car in the middle of dirt roads, jackrabbits and tumbleweed?

“What does he want?” she mumbled, angrily pulling off her gardening gloves and trying to ignore the rapid beating of her heart. “He’s the last person I want to see.”
Liar!
She began walking to the road on slightly shaky legs, anger rising at the way her body reacted. He was just a man. Her farm was full of them. She’d grown up with them all around her. And now of all times she was growing moist between her legs?
Ridiculous.

She reached the drive just as Warren turned off the engine. She stood there, arms crossed, face properly scowled to show the working of one’s nerves. The nonchalant mask threatened to slip a bit as after a brief moment the man got out—translation: uncoiled—his long, lean frame from a car that looked too small to hold him. She’d refused to consider it yesterday but now allowed herself to guess. Around six-four. Or five. Around two hundred pounds. Probably five percent body fat. She tried to digest these thoughts with the disinterest of one examining cattle flesh. In that vein, this was a very nice bull.

* * *

When he first turned off the engine, Warren didn’t move. He sat there fairly entranced at the vision before him. Backlit by the sun, she looked like an angel: a halo of long, unruly hair, skin bronzed and glowing, fitted white tee that unlike the oversize one she’d worn yesterday clung to her ample breasts and let him know that she was all woman. Her jeans were worn and tattered, clinging to curvy thighs, toned, no doubt, by the way she rode a horse.
She can probably clench them tight enough to crack a walnut.
Blood rushed to another nut, followed by thoughts of what else she could clench, causing Warren to shift his body and his thoughts while reaching for the door handle and finding a smile.

“Good afternoon.” A curt nod was her greeting. “Nice-looking place you’ve got here.” She cocked her head to the other side. Okay, so she wouldn’t win the trophy for Miss Congeniality. Warren decided to bypass the small talk and get right to the point. “I, uh, think I might have an answer to the problem you mentioned yesterday.”

She uncrossed her arms. “I’m listening.”

With her arms now at her side, Warren found himself drawn once again to that rack of a body: full, round breasts, narrow waist, wide hips...
damn. Is it possible for her to look even better than she did yesterday?
She placed her hands in her back pockets and fixed him with a look that suggested she was long on agitation and short on patience.

“We can put a gate on that part of the fence, the part that’s by the stream.”

“Will it be locked?”

“Most likely. It’s too far away for my men to oversee and while it’s a good distance away from the vineyard, I don’t want to have to wonder who or what might be sneaking through.”

“So how is this giving access to my cattle?”

“Just tell me what time you need it open and I can make sure that happens.”

“I don’t appreciate having to give you a schedule.”

“And I don’t appreciate your funky attitude. Has anybody ever pointed it out to you?”

“A time or two.”

It was a brief instant, a nanosecond really, but Warren could have sworn that the merest of smiles accompanied this statement. And he would be damned if he didn’t kind of like it.

“We can install a gate and work out a time frame each day that it will be open and available to your livestock. That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”

“I guess I’ll take it, though it would be much easier if the gate remained unlocked. Other than coyote and deer there’s not much to worry about around these parts. We had an issue with cow rustlers awhile back, but we fixed that problem.”

“How’d you do that?”

“With a twenty-two.”

“Ha!”

There it was again, that almost smile. He was sure he’d seen it this time.

“How soon can you get that gate in?”

“We’ll order it today. As soon as it arrives, shouldn’t take more than a day to have it installed.”

Another nod.

“Well, I guess that’s it.”

He hesitated, having nothing more to say but not wanting to go. He’d had his share of women, even had one chomping at the bit to marry him. But there was something about this one, something about her feistiness and her don’t-give-a-damn attitude that moved him, intrigued him, made him want to know about her and maybe break down that wall. It made him wonder about the man responsible for her building it in the first place. But none of this was his business. She was his neighbor, nothing more, and probably one he wouldn’t see much past this meeting.

“All right then. Goodbye.” He turned and headed back to his car, his long strides quickly widening the distance between them.

“Drake.”

He turned back around. “The name’s Warren.” He said this even though he liked the way his surname rolled off her tongue. He liked the sound of her voice, too, low and raspy, could imagine it moaning in the throes of pleasure.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

He smiled, got into his car and drove away, feeling as proud as a Boy Scout who’d just earned a new badge. He had a feeling there was a lot more to Charli Reed than met the eye. And in this moment, he silently admitted that he wanted to know it all.