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“Miss Bradford, I could have you arrested for slander.”
Everleigh’s jaw dropped. “Are you denying that you’re—?”
“Threatening a man well-respected in the wine community? Yes, I deny it because it isn’t true.”
He leaned in, expecting her to back up, but she didn’t. No, she just jutted that stubborn chin up another notch until her lips were just a breath away. A mad desire gripped him to haul her against him and kiss her senseless until she apologized.
No.He would never kiss a woman who disrespected him like this.
“Never accuse me again of something I haven’t done, Everleigh Bradford. Tonight, I’ll walk away and leave you with the embarrassment of knowing you were wrong. Next time, I will not be so generous.”
CHAPTER TWO
EVERLEIGHSTAREDATthe retreating back of Adrian Cabrera, hands clenched tight, nails digging into her palms.
Take a deep breath, girl.
The man was an infuriating beast. None of the stories she’d heard about him had prepared her for their encounter. His seductive manner had put her on her guard. She didn’t need an attraction to her mortal enemy muddying the waters.
Andhim.
She’d seen plenty of pictures online when she’d done her research. Dark brown hair, combed back away from his forehead in a whimsical style that belied his often stern expression and the tense set of his broad shoulders. Strong, square jaw with a small cleft in his chin. Chiseled cheekbones, thick brows over piercing blue eyes and full lips that, in all the photographs, rarely seemed to curve up in a smile.
So when he’d smiled at her she’d been completely unprepared for the rush of heat that had pooled between her thighs.
Maybe she did need to get out and date more. She hadn’t had such a strong reaction to...well,anyone.
She uncurled her fingers and with slow, measured steps moved to the balcony railing. Her confidence waned as she took in the opulence spread out below. She’d never been surrounded by such luxury. How could a girl from upstate New York possibly take on a man who’d been raised with a silver spoon in his mouth?
There had to be over eight hundred people below. Guests sporting Cartier diamond bracelets and Rolex watches while they sipped Cabrera Merlot from crystal wineglasses. The band now assembling on the stage at the front of the ballroom had been at the top of the U.S. music charts for the past three weeks. God only knew how much it had cost to have them perform in the Grand Ballroom instead of a stadium that could seat tens of thousands.
The Cabrera family obviously had more money than they knew what to do with.
So why had Adrian Cabrera targeted Fox Vineyards?
Her family’s business had been a part of her life ever since she could remember. When her mother had finally succumbed to cancer in her senior year of high school, Fox had been her saving grace. The winery had filled the hole her mother’s death had carved out of her heart. She’d thrown herself into every job imaginable: maintenance, being a cellar hand, running the tasting room. Achieving a marketing position there after college, followed by her promotion to Director of Marketing two years ago, had taken her ever closer to one day inheriting the role of director from her father.
Her stomach knotted. But her dad had yanked all her hard work—nearly a decade of it—out from under her when he’d agreed to sell to a spoiled rich boy without even talking to her. The only thing he’d said, after her constant badgering, was that she needed more in her life than Fox Vineyards.
Sure, managing the marketing for Fox left little time for a social life. But, contrary to her dad’s beliefs, she still enjoyed her fair share of dates with some very attractive men.
Unfortunately, Adrian Cabrera was in an entirely different class of man than she normally dealt with. When she’d first spied him on the balcony he’d looked like a monarch surveying his kingdom. She’d seen plenty of pictures of him when she’d researched him after her father’s revelation of the pending sale to Cabrera Wine. But in person strength radiated from every feature—from the confident thrust of his chin to the hardness in his eyes.
And the photographs hadn’t done justice to his confident sensuality.
His black tuxedo had obviously been customized for his subtly muscular build. Despite the inches her French heels added to her height, he’d towered above her when he’d leaned in, those blue eyes cold and determined. And yet, moments before her hasty outburst, his eyes had simmered with a sensual fire. Just the memory of that look sent a shot of heat through her veins...
Don’t go there, Ev.
She resisted a waiter with a tray full of wineglasses and grabbed a glass of water from a nearby buffet table. The icy liquid cooled some of her unexpected ardor and brought her back to her senses.
Yes, it had been nearly a year since she and her last boyfriend had broken up. But she didn’t do one-night flings with strangers—and certainly not with the bastard who was intent on stripping her father of everything he held dear.
The last time she’d seen her dad rose in her mind. Once a slender but still formidable man, with iron-gray hair and a sharp wit, he’d been reduced by leukemia to a gaunt, hollow shadow of who he’d used to be. He’d been at the window of his study, his T-shirt hanging loosely off his shoulders.
She’d already known he had cancer—she had been at the doctor’s appointment and had felt the world tilt beneath her feet when the doctor had announced the diagnosis. But yesterday morning, seeing his skin the color of ash and his once vibrant eyes now listless, reality had crashed in.
Richard Bradford was dying.
