Page 95 of On One Condition

My body aches from the memory. From the promise of more of him.

Because it’s always momentary satisfaction when it comes to Ledger. There’s always a want for more. A need for more. A desire for one more taste or touch or kiss of his.

He’s the best kind of addiction in the worst kind of way. One you want to have but fear the withdrawal from.

“A few hours ago? Did something happen?” I ask coyly with a bat of my lashes and a taunting smile. “Oh, yes. I completely forgot.”

“You forgot?” he says in mock shock as he grabs my leg with his free hand and tugs me down to the floor where he is. My laugh is smothered by his lips. “Then I guess I better help you remember.”

My gasp is sharp when he nips my shoulder. “The food though . . .”

He grinds his clothes-clad cock between my thighs. “Fuck the food. It’s better reheated.”

“Definitely better reheated.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Asher

I run through the slideshow I’ve created. The new pictures I’ve taken of The Fields are simply stunning. I’ve stared at them over and over and still can’t believe it’s the same place I’ve trampled every inch as a child.

I swear it’s the magic of photography but every image feels soft and romantic and like a place I’d personally want to hold an event. Granted, the images purposefully neglect to show the items getting the loan would provide, but they still highlight a complete and beautiful backdrop for an event.

I glance around the waiting area. Funny how I was here the other day and didn’t notice these chairs. I welcome the distraction of thought though, because my knee keeps jogging up and down and my palms are so sweaty that I have to rub them on the only pair of slacks I think I own. This is a big deal in general, but it’s an even bigger deal to me. I want to be in and out of The Retreat before Ledger comes back from his working lunch.

“Miss Wells?” I glance up and smile at the lady standing in the hallway. She gives me a peculiar look, one that says why are you meeting with Hillary when you were here the other day with Ledger? But I simply smile back at her. “Hillary will see you now.”

“Thank you. Okay.” I rise on shaky legs with my laptop and a printed copy of the presentation in my hands and follow her.

Hillary gives me a similarly curious look when I walk into her office, but doesn’t say a word until I take a seat.

“I’m assuming there’s a good reason why you specifically asked to have this meeting with me when Ledger is out of the office?”

Hillary is an imposing figure. She’s tall with hard features and unrelenting eyes. It helps that I’ve seen her laughing with Ledger before, or else my nerves would be more rattled than they already are.

“Yes. For me, it’s a good reason. For you, it may put you in an awkward position, and for that, I’ll apologize ahead of time.”

“Continue,” she says with a nod as she clasps and unclasps her hands in front of her on the desk.

“Luxury. Decadence. A destination to lose yourself in. That’s your brand. That’s what S.I.N. properties are known for,” I say, repeating Ledger’s description that has stuck in my head ever since I decided to make this work. “And at The Fields, we not only share that vision, but we want to offer an opportunity for your guests to experience it with more of a small-town feel to it. Whether it be a wine tasting event beneath the stars in a fragrant field of lavender, or a family reunion with live music, or a wedding ceremony and reception, we can accommodate your needs.”

With a deep breath, I continue my presentation for Hillary, struggling at times when her stoic expression gives me nothing to feed off of. When I’m finished explaining the premise, I move on to explain my future aspirations of producing lavender products for purchase.

I force myself to slow down several times, but I hope my excitement for this new venture is more evident than my nerves.

And when I finish, Hillary leans back in her chair, lips twisting and stare implacable. “Why exactly would our clients prefer your farm instead of this multi-million dollar resort they’re already paying for to hold their event?”

“Some may. Some may not. The Fields simply gives you another option for those guests who wish to get more of an authentic small-town experience. As you’ll see when you read through the full proposal, I’ve listed comparative studies of other high-end resorts and similar partnerships, complete with a breakdown of the typical S.I.N. demographic and how this partnership can meet their needs.”

Another nod. “And you didn’t bring this to Ledger for what reason?”

I stare at her, blinking for a beat, assuming the answer is quite obvious, but I explain anyway. “If you should want to partner with The Fields on this, I’d rather the partnership be based on merit than obligation. As you’re aware, Ledger and I know each other personally. I want this opportunity because it’s valid and good and beneficial. Not because he feels obligated to make it.”

“And you think I’m able to separate my decision even though you are my boss’s girlfriend?”

“I’m not his—we’re not . . .” I clear my throat and shake my head. Shit. I wasn’t expecting her to be so blunt. “Clearly, you’re a damn good businesswoman, or else you wouldn’t be in charge of this resort. So yes, I think you are more than capable of making an unbiased decision on what is best for your resort when it comes to partnerships or outside opportunities. I also know that Mayor Grossman is holding you guys to the fire when it comes to incorporating the town somehow in The Retreat.”

“And you think this would help with that?”