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Then again, her life right now was so incredibly busy. Between Wilder Passion increasing in subscribers at a rapid pace and the construction for Wilder Things starting very soon, she really didn’t have time to devote to a committed relationship. However, having what she knew would be the most earth-shattering sex of her life with one particular hot, sexy contractor she suspected was her unicorn guy? Absolutely. But Remy had made it abundantly clear that night two months ago, when he could have easily taken her right there up against the wall but had left instead, that it wasn’t going to happen.
Hearing the chime of the elevator arriving on her floor, Tempest set her pencil on her current sketch to finish later, grateful for the distraction from her thoughts of Remy, which unfortunately filtered through her mind on a daily basis . . . and especially at night when she relived the way he’d taken command of her body and her pleasure. Reenacting that encounter in her head while she was alone in bed got her off every single time . . . yet left her wanting so much more.
With a sigh, Tempest walked out to the living room just as Arabella arrived, holding a huge bouquet of roses. The arrangement was so large it nearly covered her upper body, and Arabella had to hold the vase to the side to see where she was going.
As soon as Tempest saw the flowers, she groaned, already knowing who they were from . . . and just like the other arrangements that had been delivered at various times over the past two months, she’d send these to the nearby retirement home for the elderly residents to enjoy, as well. They were too beautiful to go into the trash, and she didn’t want the reminder of Kyle and his hopeful gestures all around her place. She’d already asked him not to send any more flowers, but her polite requests had fallen on deaf ears.
“Hey, Bella,” Tempest said, using the shortened version of her name that Maddux had given her. In a very brief time, they’d already become good friends, and with Elle, as well.
“Hi!” Arabella replied cheerfully. Considering everything she’d been through, both with Maddux and her own father, the other woman was always so upbeat and had such a great attitude. “I was visiting your brother down at the office, and this delivery came for you, so I thought I’d drop it off since I was heading up to our place,” she said of the penthouse on the top floor of the building, where Arabella now lived with Maddux. “They’re gorgeous. Who’s the secret admirer?”
Tempest rolled her eyes as Arabella set the crystal-cut vase on the coffee table. There was a card tucked between the gorgeous petals, but she didn’t bother to touch it because it didn’t matter what was written inside. “It’s no secret. It’s Kyle. Again.”
“Oh.” Arabella put her hands on her tiny hips. She was petite, and Maddux looked like a giant next to her. “Well, he’s certainly persistent . . . or maybe obsessed?”
Tempest laughed. “That’s one way to look at it. He’s one of those guys who just won’t take no for an answer because he thinks he’s that charming, but he hasn’t crossed any lines that scream stalker or creeper, if you know what I mean?”
“Aww, he’s infatuated with you.”
“Actually, I think he’s just spoiled and really wants what he can’t have,” she said, because it didn’t matter how many times she’d turned down his invitations to have a drink together, or to go to a Broadway play where tickets were near impossible to get, or to have dinner with his parents so they could meet her, or that Tempest insisted they were just friends, he kept trying to find new ways to entice her.
As much as Kyle’s overtures were a pain in her ass, Tempest didn’t have it in her to be rude and to tell him to basically fuck off. She’d been as direct and candid as possible with him and her feelings—or lack thereof—without crossing that line into being a total bitch, and she was really hoping he’d eventually get tired of her excuses, along with her many assertions that she wasn’t interested in dating him, and move on.
“I saw Elle this morning on our way to work,” Arabella said, changing the subject, thank goodness. “She mentioned escrow on your building closes next week and you’ll finally have the keys to get in there and get started on Wilder Things. We’re both so excited for you.”
Elle owned a realty company and had helped broker the deal for the property that Tempest had purchased. “Thank you. I’m meeting with the contractor tomorrow to discuss preliminary designs.”
“I can’t wait to see how this place turns out,” she said, then glanced at her cell phone, seemingly to check the time. “I need to get going. I promised Maddux that I’d make beef stroganoff for dinner tonight, and that’s going to take me some ti
me.”
Tempest smiled, feeling a wave of melancholy wash over her. “That was Maddy’s favorite thing that my mother cooked.”
“I know,” Arabella said softly. “He told me that, and a lot of things about your parents, who seemed like really amazing people.”
“They really were.” Tempest was impressed with her brother, who’d harbored so much hate and resentment for so long after their mother and father had died. He’d come a long way if he was openly sharing things about his past and the good memories they had of their parents. Especially with Arabella. Then again, this woman was going to be his wife, and none of them looked at her and saw their greatest enemy’s daughter. No, she was just sweet and kind Arabella with a heart of pure gold.
“Speaking of making dinner,” Tempest said, suddenly remembering one of the annual Wilder Way events that was coming up. “Next month, I’m putting on a spaghetti dinner for all the kids and families the foundation has helped this past year. I’ve done it annually for a while now and it’s a great way to bring the community together.”
Arabella’s eyes lit up and she clapped her hands in front of her. “That sounds like fun.”
Tempest laughed at the other woman’s enthusiasm. “I’m glad you think so, because I’m going to need both you and Elle to persuade my brothers to help out at the dinner. Every year they’ve come up with some kind of excuse to get out of it and think writing a big check for all the food is their way of contributing, but it would be really nice for all of us to be there and have a hand in serving everyone.”
“I love that idea,” Arabella said, then grinned a bit playfully. “And no worries about persuading Maddux. I know just the thing to make him cave and agree.”
Tempest did not want to know details, but clearly Arabella had Maddux wrapped securely around her finger. All that mattered to her was that they were all there together at the dinner, representing the Wilder Way Foundation as a family.
Even if she was the only one without a significant other standing beside her.
CHAPTER SIX
Remy arrived at the Lowell Construction office fifteen minutes late for his scheduled meeting with Tempest to go over the preliminary drawings for Wilder Things. It had been a long day helping his crew on a jobsite to bring a project in on time and on budget, and though he’d left early, there had been an accident on the highway and traffic had been a nightmare.
He hated being late for any appointment, and he was filthy, too. He thought he’d given himself enough time to get cleaned up before her arrival. He had dirt and dust covering him from head to toe, his boots were crusted with mud, and he smelled like sweat and hard physical labor. He cringed at his grimy appearance. Not how he’d intended to greet Tempest. When he met with clients at the office, he preferred not to reek like a barnyard animal and strived to look somewhat professional.
He parked his work truck in his designated space and strode toward the mixed-use building he’d purchased after his divorce. It was in a middle-income area of Brooklyn and nothing fancy, but the property conveniently provided both commercial and residential space in one. And this place was one of the few things he’d been able to afford on his tight budget after his ex-wife had left him with very little cash in the bank. Considering the higher-end clients he was now accumulating, he knew he really needed to find a nicer office complex. He’d just been so busy he hadn’t had the time.
He walked into the first floor of the building, which he’d turned into an office. Sally, his fifty-five-year-old secretary who had been with him since the beginning of Lowell Construction, sat at her desk, her fingers flying across the keyboard in front of her computer at a pace that always amazed Remy. Beyond her he’d partitioned three separate areas. A private office for him, a conference-type room where he drew up plans, met with clients, and held weekly meetings with his project managers, and in the back, he’d added a small, functional kitchenette.
