His father sighed. "You've got a good mind, son, no one doubts that."
Derek's brows lifted; as far as he'd known, his father doubted it on a daily basis.
"But this is a deal that needs to be handled quietly. We don't need chatter among the investors or speculation in the trades." Anthony met Derek's eyes. "You understand what I'm saying?"
"Dad, I've been in this business since I was in diapers. I have business degrees from Harvard and Yale. You sent me off to work at competing hotels when I was sixteen years old. I've delivered room service. I've worked in the laundry. And I make one hell of a fine concierge if I do say so myself. I know this business top to bottom. Plus, I'm the one who conceived Winston Boutiques. So forgive me if I sound a little put-out for being lectured about what I already know."
The Winston Boutiques division was still in the planning stages, but Derek had every intention of bringing it to fruition and making it his own. And right now, everything hinged on the South Congress Motor Inn deal. The idea was to find well-located but financially burdened motels with sentimental significance to their town, refurbish them into quality rooms with high-end amenities, and market them as premier destination accommodations with a retro feel.
Last month, he'd scoped out the failing motor inn on Austin's extremely retail-and-tourist friendly South Congress Avenue, and he'd decided it was the perfect launch location.
All Derek had to do was acquire the place and get the ball rolling.
And when he nailed this project, he intended to insist that he be put in charge of the entire Winston Boutiques division.
That, however, was ultimately up to the board of directors. And the board didn't wipe their own asses without first hearing what Anthony Winston wanted.
He sighed. Basically, he was stuck at the ranch until his father said his piece.
"I'm not doubting your skill, son. You're a Winston, and you've got the chops. But we don't want the press to get wind of what we're doing, and the way you and Jared Ingram behave..."
Derek held up a hand. "What the hell does Jared have to do with anything? He's in LA, and I'm here, and I haven't gone out with him in months."
"Good to know," his father said. "Because you boys need to calm down."
Jared Ingram had been Derek's boarding school roommate. The heir to a family fortune that reached back to the beginning of time, Jared had enough money to buy and sell Anthony Winston a thousand times over. He was smart and funny and personable--and unlike Derek, he didn't have a clue what he wanted to do with his life.
"Calm down?" Derek stared at his father. "Is that a euphemism for being seen? For having a good time? Christ, Dad, I've spent my entire life running interference for the Winston brand. You're going to begrudge me a few parties?"
"It's a euphemism for screwing around and making an ass of yourself. What? You don't know how to have a good time without partying with some floozy? Getting drunk and getting your face in the papers every time you're with that boy?"
Frustrated, Derek leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair.
No doubt, Jared was a player. And although Derek could never steal Jared's crown in that regard, he couldn't deny that he used to walk in those shoes, too. Especially when he was in the city with Jared.
Jared was not, however, a bad guy or a wastrel, and his father's suggestion to the contrary made Derek's blood boil. "I work hard. I play hard. And I have never once shirked my responsibilities to the Winston Corporation."
Even as he said them, though, the words seemed hollow. The truth was, Jared's antics had been getting on his nerves lately, too. For the last year, Derek had been going out with his friend more to keep an eye on him. Not to join him.
But it was just like his dad not to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Still, he had to admit that his father had a point. Just because Derek wasn't getting wasted at every club from New York to Dallas to Los Angeles didn't mean that Derek was entirely pure. He'd had his share of women over the years, and continued to do so. And, yeah, sometimes a piece of that ended up in the papers.
His past shouldn't impact the Austin deal ... but if the past became the present, it might. If he was seen with a woman in Austin, that would undoubtedly end up on social media. Not harmful in and of itself, but an observant competitor might see a picture of him in Austin and wonder what he was doing there. Possibly investigate. Possibly figure it out.
And then the Winston Corporation could find itself in a multiple party bidding war instead of being the only player at the table opposite the motor inn.
Damn, but the world had been simpler in his father's time. But there was no putting the cork in the social media bottle.
Begrudgingly, he downed his glass of orange juice, then stood up, meeting his father's eyes. "I'm heading to the airport now," he said. "And I'm not going to fuck this up."
And he wouldn't, he thought as he headed around the pool and toward the main house. But the frustrating reality was that he'd intended to call Amanda Franklin from the road to let her know he'd be in town for the night.
For over a month now, she'd filled his head. And memories of their night together had invaded his dreams, so intense that on more than one occasion he'd had to take a cold shower before he even thought about getting dressed.
He'd resisted calling her from Dallas over the last month. She'd made it perfectly clear that if they got together again it would only be a drive-by. But he was okay with that. As much as she filled his thoughts, he didn't need the complication of a steady woman in his life.
On the contrary, for years, he'd been the guy who'd gone out with a different woman every weekend. Not with quite the exuberance of Jared, maybe, but Derek had never been the type to stick. What was the point? His business was his priority, and it ate up his time. Why not enjoy the rare free time that he had? Especially when there were so many women in all of Winston's various flagship cities who were more than happy to keep him entertained.
And the fact that he hadn't called a single one of them in the last month had nothing to do with the night he and Amanda had spent together. Why would it? She was cut from the same cloth, wasn't she? A woman focusing on her career and not looking for a relationship.
So no. The only reason for his relative celibacy these last four weeks had been the insanity of his schedule. He'd been pulling long hours planning the new division and working on the terms of the motor inn deal. And at no time during those weeks had he crossed paths with any women interesting enough to pull him away from work.
Amanda was interesting enough.
The words sang through him. True enough.
And that, of course, was why she was still on his radar.
As he drew closer to the house, he texted the butler to request that a driver and car be waiting for him by the time he'd grabbed his overnight bag from the trunk of his Mercedes. He'd leave his car here so that he could catch up on emails during the drive from the ranch to the Winston hanger at Love Field.
They'd been on the road for fifteen minutes, and Derek had managed to answer all of the morning's emails, when his phone rang. He glanced at the Caller ID, intending to ignore it unless it was his assistant, only to see that it was Jared.
"Where are you this week?"
"Aspen. You should come. The snow's cold, but the women are hot."
Derek chuckled. "I guess so. I thought you were in LA. Weren't you all excited about optioning some author's book to turn into a movie?"
"She was hot, too. But it didn't work out."
There was an unfamiliar edge in Jared's tone. "What's going on, man?"
"Nothing. Shit. Seriously, it's no big thing."
"What isn't?"
"Carla. The author. Like I said, no big thing."
From Jared's tone, it sounded like it was a big thing.
"What happened?"
"She dumped me."
Derek's eyes widened. "I didn't know you were dating her?"
"I wasn't. Maybe that was the pr
oblem. She dumped me as a producer. Said she didn't trust me with the project. That I was fly-by-night."
From Derek's point of view, Carla sounded like a sharp woman. Jared had never worked in Hollywood, but he had the money to play. He'd gotten the itch to be a producer, which could turn out fine if he paid quality people to work with him. But from what Derek had seen, Jared was acting, not working. Playing the producer role without actually accomplishing anything except getting his face known at all the hottest clubs and a few mentions in The Hollywood Reporter.
"So I said fuck it and came to Colorado. You should come. I've met some lovely ladies who are happy to help me stay warm."
"No can do. About to catch a plane to Austin." And he wouldn't go even if he could.
"Too bad. This is the life, my friend. Working in Hollywood was way too much trouble. Not worth the time if you don't need the scratch." But for the first time, there was something in Jared's voice that made him think that his friend didn't believe his own bullshit.
"You okay?"
"Just tired. Keeping busy, you know?"
The zing was back in Jared's voice, and the shadow of worry that had settled over Derek started to dissipate.
"Fair enough. We're at the airport, so I'll talk to you later."
"Get your ass up to the city. It's been too long."
It had, but Derek hadn't been in the mood for Manhattan lately. Instead, it had been Austin on his mind.
All he said, though, was, "Sure."
Chapter Four
As far as Amanda was concerned, the only real downside of her job was that she couldn't justify not answering her phone. She'd long ago decided against carrying two mobile phones, and that meant that she gave her number out freely to clients, potential clients, and other agents and brokers. Which meant that she ended up answering so many texts that she'd trained herself to dictate responses. It was either that or start wearing her nails short. And that really wasn't happening.
The phone calls were the worst, though. She was always happy to talk about real estate, even if the buyer was unqualified or just looking. After all, you never knew when their circumstances would change, and she wanted to be at the top of their call list. But that meant she had to answer all unfamiliar numbers, too, since it might be a potential client who'd been given her card.
As a result, she'd been on the receiving end of more scam calls and robocalls than any sane person should be subjected to. Calls about things she didn't care about. Calls about things she didn't want.
And sometimes, she even got unexpected calls about things she shouldn't care about, and things she shouldn't want. Like the call this morning. The one she'd answered, only to be serenaded by Derek's slow drawl. "Good morning, gorgeous. Do you know who this is?"
Did she?
No doubt about that. And apparently every part of her had known it, too. Because as he'd continued to tell her about how he was boarding a plane for Austin and he'd be free from his meetings and dinners by ten and could meet her at ten-fifteen, her body had begun to ache with unfamiliar, but not unwelcome, longing.
With a sigh, she stood in the ornate lobby of the Winston Hotel and looked down at the screen of her phone, checking the time for the thousandth time. One minute past when she'd last looked.
Amanda sighed, then waited.
It had been a month since she and Derek had met outside The Fix and shared that incredible night, and though she'd told herself over and over that it would be best if he never called again--best to not get involved--she couldn't deny the rush of heat that had coursed through her when she'd heard his voice. A heat that had morphed into anticipation when he'd asked her to meet him at the Winston at a quarter past ten.
"Room 715," he'd said, naming a room on the same floor they'd gone to last time, and she'd promised to be there exactly on the dot.
Now it was seven after ten, and she kept checking the clock on her phone like an idiot. "Eager, much?" she chided herself softly. Because, of course, she was.
That was the reason she'd almost told him that she had plans tonight. Because despite essentially suggesting that they should see each other again, she really hadn't expected to hear from him. Had, in fact, thought it would be best if they both just backed away slowly.
Yet she hadn't said no. On the contrary, she'd very eagerly said yes. And all because there'd been such intense sparks between them. And not just sexually. They'd laughed and talked. They'd clicked.
And the sex had been off the charts.
Which, of course, was why she was here. And why she kept telling herself she should go away.
Derek was the kind of guy who could get under her skin, and she had no time for a relationship.
Not that they'd talked about any of that last time, but she was going to have to say something tonight. They needed to be clear. If this was going to be something they repeated, then it needed to be about the sex. Nothing else.
She just hoped that they reached an agreement ... not to mention a mind-blowing orgasm.
* * *
She knocked at exactly ten-fifteen, and he opened the door ten seconds later. The moment he did, Amanda knew there'd be no trouble granting the orgasm part of her wish. The man looked as hot as sin in black jeans, bare feet, and a pale gray T-shirt that clung to his chest and showed off his well-developed arms.
Not a bad view to be faced with, but it was the expression on his face that made Amanda certain she was going to suffer no regrets for keeping this date. An almost feral intensity that had her pulse pounding and small beads of sweat popping up on the back of her neck.
"Hi," she said. Or, rather, she tried to. She didn't actually get the word out before he'd tugged her into the entry hall, kicked the door shut, then pinned her against the wall.
Immediately, his mouth crushed against hers, all teeth and lips and tongue. It was a demand, a promise. Lust and longing. Hell, it was sex. The most oral kind of sex that Amanda could imagine, and all she wanted to do was get lost in it.
His fingers twined in her hair, holding her steady as his tongue did battle with her own. Their teeth clashed and she tasted blood, tangy and undeniably arousing in the moment.
He'd held her trapped against the wall as his mouth ravaged hers, and the simple knowledge that he'd taken control--that he was taking her--made her even more aroused, though she was astounded that was even possible. Her panties were soaked, and her entire body was aroused, on edge. As if one touch could send her spinning out into space. And oh, how she wanted to spin.
Unexpectedly, he pulled away, just long enough to capture her eyes in his gaze. Then he moved his hands, sliding down along her arms, bare in the silk tank top she'd worn.
His touch made her shiver, and she drew in a breath, her lips parted as she closed her eyes, wanting simply to feel. His hands on her arms. His body, lean and muscled, pressed tight against hers. His erection, straining against his jeans and pressing insistently into her lower belly.
Thank God she'd worn a skirt, because she couldn't stand this much longer. "Please," she begged. "I want you now. Hard and deep and right here against this wall."
He pulled back long enough so she could see the gleam of pure arousal in his eyes. Then he reached down and grabbed her skirt and in one violent motion thrust it up around her waist.
He lifted her next, so that her legs encircled him and her back was pressed to the wall. He was strong, thank goodness, and he used one hand to free himself, then dug a condom out of his back pocket.
"I came prepared," he said.
"Show me your mad skills and get it on fast."
He did just that, and she would have applauded, except she was too busy screaming his name when he drove forward, burying himself inside her in one long thrust that claimed her and tamed her and filled every cell inside her.
He pounded into her, her back slamming against the wall, their mouths banging together. It was wild and dirty and exactly what she wanted. And when the explosion finally came, she cried out his name and c
lung to him like he was her everything. In that moment, maybe he was.
Slowly, he lowered them both to the floor, and though she knew they ought to move, all she could manage was to lay there and breath.
Oh, yeah. That was good.
"Hey," he murmured, propping himself up on one elbow. "Nice to see you."
She burst out laughing, but the sound seemed strangled since he'd reduced her to a limp, boneless creature. Laughter really wasn't in the cards. "You, too," she managed.
With effort, she rose up on her elbows, then looked around. "Is this the same room?"
He flashed a devious grin as he stood up. "We had such good luck with it the first time."
"Just think how amazing it'll be in the same room and the same bed," she quipped.
"I'm ready if you are."
Her eyes went wide, and she looked down, noticing that he hadn't been kidding about being ready. She bit her lower lip, and he shrugged.
"Saves getting dressed for conversation only to get undressed again later."
She had to fight not to laugh. "I really don't understand your earth logic, but I like the plan. Lead the way."
* * *
Derek took a sip of wine from the abandoned glass he'd left on the bedside table. Between the two of them, they'd killed off a bottle in record time. Then again, they'd been thirsty after their workout. Their second workout, if you counted the hall. Which he absolutely did.
He allowed himself a self-satisfied grin, then stretched out in the bed next to Amanda, who was dozing beside him. Gently, he brushed his fingertips over her pale skin as he reveled in the way she squirmed under his touch.
"Stop," she murmured. "You're tickling me."
"Maybe that's my plan. Maybe I want to wake you up."
She rolled over, blinking at him. "So that I'll get out of your hair?"
Her words were like a kick in his gut. "You can stay as long as you want. I was thinking wakefulness might lead to other activities."
"You're insatiable."
"And you have a dirty mind," he countered. "I was talking about conversation." He cocked his head toward the suite's living room. "Want to go sip some wine? Talk? Watch a movie?"
For a moment, she looked tempted. Then she shook her head. "I should probably--" She cut herself off as she sat up in bed, pulling the sheet tight over her breasts. "It's just that I have a showing at nine tomorrow, and there's a ton of prep before hand, and--"