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“Sounds like you were the unhappy one. But—” Monique heard a loud crash. “Monique, I’ve got to go. The boys staged their joust indoors, and once again, as I feared, my china has been the only thing defeated.”
“I don’t know how you do it. Let me let you go be mommy.”
“I will, but not before I give you what you called for even if it’s not what you asked for.”
“What’s that?”
“Sound advice.” Emma paused, and Monique found herself leaning toward the car’s speaker so as not to miss a single word. She shouldn’t have worried. There were only a few of them, delivered in that no-nonsense Midwestern style that Monique loved.
“Stop overthinking the situation. If you get a chance at what you really want, take it. And this campaign and your running for mayor is not what I’m talking about.”
Chapter 4
Monique was still pondering her good friend’s words when mere seconds later her phone rang again. “Monique Slater.” She looked at her watch and, with only ten minutes before the farmers meeting, started her car and drove out of the lot where she’d stopped to call Emma.
“Hello, Monique. It’s Niko.”
The way her body reacted to the sound of his voice was totally unexpected. Muscles tightened in obscure places and butterflies lined her stomach walls. Breathe, Monique. She did, and a good thing, too. Hard to drive a car if one passed out.
“Niko. I guess it shouldn’t have been unexpected, but I am surprised to hear from you.”
“You’re right. After asking for your card, hearing from me should have been totally expected.”
There it was again, those squiggles traveling from her core to her vagina and bursting within. His voice, deep and soothing, swept over her like a Southern summer breeze, causing inappropriate mental pictures to float through her mind. And try as she might to turn away these thoughts and focus on practicality and politics and Paradise Cove, all she could imagine right now was the strong, tall body she’d admired earlier that day hovering naked over hers.
Shaking her head to rid herself of the images, she spoke with a forced casualness and calm. “What can I do for you, Mr. Drake?”
The length of his pause made her immediately regret—or was it applaud?—the way she’d worded the question.
“There are several possibilities that come to mind,” he finally responded, his voice one of professionalism while Monique imagined that his thoughts were anything but. “However, joining me for dinner is my first request.”
“Thank you for the offer, Niko, but I’m not sure our being seen dining together is such a great idea. We are adversaries, after all.”
“We don’t have to be. There’s nothing wrong with two people going after the same goal doing so while getting along. It’s one of the reasons I’d like to talk with you. This morning our meeting was unexpected. We jumped into a debate almost before we said hello. I didn’t have the opportunity to congratulate you on your stellar law career or even welcome you to Paradise Cove.”
Monique reached her destination, a plain, small building in Paradise Valley, a farm community of rolling hills, herds of cattle and, most recently, vineyards, just east of the incorporated town of Paradise Cove. She pulled into a gravel-coated parking lot already filled mostly with Dodge and Ford pickups and SUVs.
She turned off her motor, checked her phone and saw that the meeting began in five minutes. “I’m heading into a meeting but have a minute or two.” Silence. “Niko?”
She was rewarded with his laughter, rich and throaty and filled with genuine cheer. In spite of herself she could imagine his smile, could see his sparkling teeth and the hint of a dimple in his left cheek. Today she’d noticed how perfect his lips were, and right now thoughts of what else those lips could do besides form a coherent sentence were about to be her undoing.
“I like your style. Quick and to the point, straight, no chaser. But I’m more deliberate in my approach and would really appreciate the opportunity to congratulate you in person. Say tonight, around seven or eight o’clock?”
“Fine,” Monique said, having once again glanced at her watch as two more cars drove up and the occupants went inside. “Text me where you’d like to meet. Eight o’clock is fine.”
