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Oh, right, the beer. I took a gulp, hoping the cool liquid would calm my disordered thoughts. No such luck—but it was delicious, strongly hoppy this time, notes of lime and orange and vanilla, with a peppery finish. “Damn, that’s good. It’s like spring!”
“I’m glad you like it,” Hunter murmured. His arm encircled my waist—no, he was just reaching for another bottle, no, that was his other hand, this one was definitely resting on my waist, lightly, just above my hipbone.
I didn’t dare open my eyes, for fear I would find I was only dreaming.
“Another?” Hunter invited.
“Yes please.” My voice was a whisper, hoarse with desire I hoped he couldn’t hear.
And there it came, his gentle hands guiding it to my mouth, the smooth glass with its beads of moisture kissing my skin, and that ambrosia sliding slowly down my throat: brown sugar and anise and a hint of…chocolate.
“Ooooooh,” I moaned in appreciation. I licked my lips.
And heard a sharp intake of breath from Hunter. “You like that?” he whispered.
“So much,” I replied, feeling the heat in my body gather itself tight and low.
Even with my eyes closed I was vividly aware of how close he was standing to me; I could smell him, hear each breath he took. His hand on my waist seemed to grip a fraction tighter, wrinkling the fabric of my dress—the hand holding the bottle seemed to tremble slightly, I could feel his breath ruffling my hair as he bent closer, those warm lips only inches from—
My eyes burst open and I almost leapt away from him. We didn’t have time for sexual tension! That was what had gotten us into trouble in the first place. My mind fluttered rapidly over possible topics of redirection.
It was difficult. It mostly wanted to think of Hunter shirtless.
Maybe pantsless too.
Yeah….definitely pantsless.
Focus, Ally!
“Well, I could just sit here sipping these all day, but I’m not really qualified to help choose the official flavors,” I said, trying to sound practical and not at all like my panties were on fire. “How about we set up a tasting event to help pick the best?”
Hunter grinned, giving no indication that he was aware of my inner struggle to not bang him on the floor of his janky distillery shed. “That’s perfect! I could invite—”
He started pacing and rattling off names, only a few of which I recognized, but which were probably all off some insider’s list of Who’s-Who in the liquor industry. His face glowed with delight, with the joy of setting a plan in motion.
I just gazed at him, happy to see that energy lighting him up again. That power, that passion. All the things that made him Hunter Knox, the man I—
“What are you smiling about?” he asked, stopping and turning to look at me, a puzzled expression on his face.
“What, starting a brand-new company isn’t enough?” I asked with a little laugh.
I shrugged and looked down at the floor, scuffing my feet in what I didn’t realize ‘til after I’d done it was an unconscious imitation of his own movements.
“I’m just…really happy for you.” I looked back up at him, wanting to make him understand. “Do you see? This is what they can’t take away.” My voice grew impassioned. “Chuck and all his cronies think that Knox is just a name on a label, but it’s your passion driving the company, and that’s why it’s failing without you at the helm. So let them keep the name. You have everything you need right here.”
Hunter enfolded me in a hug that warmed me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, his strong arms crushing me against his broad chest. I basked in the sensation of being held by him. I wished it would never end.
But then he let go, and his face looked worried again. That furrow was back, wrinkling that perfect brow.
“I’ve been thinking about selling my shares in the company,” he admitted. “The way Chuck’s running the business, I don’t want any of my finances tied up in it, not to mention my public image. But I can still exercise some control with those shares, and I’m worried that if I give that up…”
“He’ll put out even more terrible ads?” I said. “Don’t worry, I don’t think that’s physically possible.”
“If only it were just terrible ads,” Hunter said dryly. “I’m more worried about what Chuck will do to try to recoup the losses he’s incurring. Some of our employees have been Knox Liquor workers for generations—some towns owe their entire existence to our factories—but that won’t mean anything to Chuck. He’ll slash the budget with a machete and outsource everything as fast as he possibly can if he thinks it’ll buy him more time to get out with a golden parachute.”
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