Undeniable Demands

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And at the moment, every one of them was looking at her.

Had Wade been talking to them about her? The arrogant curl of his smile and the laughter in the eyes of the other men left no doubt. The irritation pressed up Tori’s spine until she was sitting bolt upright in her seat.

She wanted to leave. Not just the bar, but the town. Maybe even the state. In an hour she could have the trailer hooked up and ready to go. Part of the beauty of being nomadic was that you could leave whenever things got uncomfortable. That’s what her parents had always done. Hung around somewhere until it got boring or awkward and then moved on to someplace else. Tori had always had trouble imagining living in one community her entire life. There was no place to go when things blew up in your face.

But there were also advantages to being settled: longtime friends and neighbors. People you could count on. Stability. Roots. A place to call home and raise a family. After toying with the idea of having that kind of life with Ryan and then having it all collapse around her, Tori had decided she was tired of running. She might not have the life and family she’d dreamed about with Ryan, but she could have it with someone else if she sat still long enough to have a meaningful relationship.

Cornwall spoke to her. This was where her family had come from and this was where she wanted to stay. But if she was going to build her dream home here, she’d better learn how to tough it out. There was no towing off a house. Being the new girl in a small town was hard enough. Lacking in coping skills wasn’t going to help the situation.

If Wade thought he could bully her into selling by turning the town against her, he was in for a surprise. She wasn’t going to play along with his charade. If he could play dirty, so could she.

“What can I get you?” The bartender had finally made his way over to her end of the bar. He looked like the kind of guy you’d find at a 115-year-old bar named the Wet Hen. Thin, leathery and gray-haired with an ancient, blurry anchor tattooed on his forearm. The tag pinned to his apron said his name was Skippy. She’d never seen anyone less like a Skippy in her life.

“Gin and tonic with lime.” Strong and to the point without stooping to shots. She was tempted to just chug a few big gulps of tequila so she’d no longer care about Wade and his cronies. But she couldn’t lose control of her inhibitions, either. Lord knew what kind of trouble she’d get into.

Skippy placed a bowl of peanuts and a napkin on the counter for the drink he quickly poured. He looked as though he had a solid fifty years of experience mixing drinks. When the lowball glass plopped down in front of her, she took a large, quick sip. Damned if that wasn’t the best gin and tonic she’d ever had.

Go Skippy.

The alcohol surged straight into her veins. She’d been too agitated to eat anything since Wade left, and her empty stomach gladly soaked up the wicked brew. Three sips into her drink, her worries from earlier had dulled into distant concerns that could be drowned out, along with the loud bursts of male laughter coming from the corner. Thank goodness.

It wasn’t until she’d finished her drink and half a bowl of peanuts that she bothered to look in their direction again. Wade was still watching her, although this time the amusement on his face was gone. As the other men around the table chatted, he seemed to have narrowed his focus to her. The expression on his face was quite serious. And openly appreciative of whatever he was seeing.

When their gazes met, Tori felt a jolt of electricity that ran down her spine and prickled across her skin like delicate flames licking at her. It was almost as though his look caressed her physically and drew her into him. It was the same feeling she’d had when he touched her today, handing her the honey jar. Sudden. Unexpected. Powerful.

And totally and completely unwanted.

The clunk of a glass on the bar in front of her startled Tori out of Wade’s tractor beam. When she turned, she saw a fresh glass, courtesy of Skippy.

“This one’s on the oldest Eden boy.”

It took Tori a minute to figure out that probably meant Wade. “You mean the dark-headed one in the green shirt with the smug expression on his face?”

Skippy leaned onto the bar and turned toward the men in the back. “Yep.”

“I thought his last name was Mitchell.”

“It is.”

“Then why’d you call him an Eden boy?”

Skippy shrugged. “’Cause that’s what he is.”

Tori frowned. Wade’s family tree seemed to be a touch more complicated than she’d anticipated. “Tell him I don’t want it.”

Skippy snorted and shook his head. “He’s sitting with the mayor, the sheriff, the best lawyer in town and the city councilman who granted my liquor license. Sorry, kiddo, but I’m not getting involved. You’ll have to tell him that yourself.”

“Fine,” Tori said. The drink was making her feel brave anyway. Scooping up the full glass, she slid off the stool a little too fluidly and made her way across the bar to the table of men in the back.

All five of them halted their conversation and turned to look at her when she approached.

“You’re welcome, Miss Sullivan,” Wade said with a smile that made her stomach flutter and pissed her off at the same time. He was too cocky for his own good.

“Actually, I wasn’t coming to thank you. I’m returning it.”

“Is something wrong with the drink?” Wade challenged.

“Nothing aside from it being purchased by you.” She set it down on the edge of the table in front of him. “No thanks.”

A couple of the men chuckled softly and another shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Wade ignored them all, his gaze laser-focused on her. “Oh, come on, now. Don’t be that way. It was a ‘Welcome to Cornwall’ drink. A taste of some local hospitality.”

“I’ve lived here for two months and only four people have bothered to speak to me the entire time. It’s a little late for a warm welcome. Especially coming from the man who’s trying to run me out of town.”

“That’s harsh. You can stay in town. Just not on that particular spot. Maybe Randy here can help you buy a new place.” Wade slapped the younger man beside him on the shoulder. “He tells me he handled the sale of my parents’ property.”

“My property,” she emphasized. “What else did he tell you, Wade? Are there any loopholes you can use to nullify the sale? Or are you just snooping around town trying to find some dirt on me you can use for blackmail?”

Wade shrugged casually, and Tori could feel her blood nearly boil in her veins with anger. “Not everything is about you, Miss Sullivan. I’m visiting my friends while I’m in town. If they just so happen to have information about you, then great. I like to be well-informed. Especially when going up against a worthy adversary.”

“Don’t flatter me. You can dig all you want, but you’re not going to find any dirt, because I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m not selling you my property, Mr. Mitchell. And that’s final.” Tori spun on her heel and took two big steps away before she heard the sound of muffled snickers behind her and a poorly masked whisper that suggested Wade’s skills in the bedroom might improve her attitude.

That was the last straw. Snapping her head around, she caught Wade smirking at her backside as though he agreed with his uncouth companion’s assessment.

She returned to their table. “I’m sorry, what was that? I can assure you my attitude was just fine until you started bullying me around. You may live in a world where you always get your way, but it’s not going to happen this time. And neither your money nor your penis is going to change that. I’m not interested in either of them.”

With that, she picked up her drink, watching as Wade assessed her with curious eyes. He’d had the good sense to shelve the smirk. “On second thought,” she said with a sickeningly sweet smile, “I think I will take this drink. You could use a little cooling off.” With a flick of her wrist Tori emptied the glass into Wade’s lap.

The icy cold drink shocked him upright out of the chair, sending ice cubes scattering across the floor. Tori turned and walked back to the bar, ignoring his stream of profanity muffled by his friends’ howls of laughter. She paid her bill, leaving a nice tip for Skippy, and headed for the door.

Curiosity was nagging at her, but she wouldn’t allow herself to turn around and see what Wade was doing. She would give anything to see that smug look wiped off his face, and she was pretty sure that would do it. But looking back meant that she cared. She didn’t want to give Wade that satisfaction. Instead, she marched out the front door and headed to her truck. She was nearly to the corner of the building when she heard rapid, heavy footsteps coming up behind her.

“What is your problem?” Wade snarled over her shoulder.

As calmly as she could, Tori turned to look at him. Even with a tight jaw and an angry red flush tainting his perfect, aristocratic features, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen in person. And she hated that that was her first thought when she looked at him. Those kinds of thoughts weren’t helpful when dealing with the enemy. And that’s what he was, despite the facade he put up to play nice and the way her body reacted when he was close by.

Judging by the snarl that had replaced his cajoling smile and the giant wet spot sprawled across his pants, she was pretty sure he was done playing nice. And that was fine by her. It would be much easier to deal with Wade when he wasn’t trying to be charming. It just crossed the wires in her brain and made her think unproductive thoughts.

“My problem?” Tori said coolly. “I don’t have a problem. You’re the one who needs something, not me.”

“And dumping a drink in my lap is the solution?”

Now it was Tori’s turn to shrug dismissively, as he had. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. You all were having too much fun at my expense. Just because you have drinks with the mayor doesn’t mean you can bully me.”

Wade narrowed his green gaze at her, slowly stepping forward until she found herself backed up against the crumbling brick wall of the Hen. With one hand planted on the wall on each side of her, he’d made sure there was nowhere for her to go. Tori straightened her spine and looked defiantly at him as he closed in.

“I never had any intention of bullying you, Miss Sullivan.”

Tori tried not to watch the soft curve of his lips as he spoke to her, but he was so close she had little choice. She remembered how she’d once fantasized about kissing those lips. Of course, that was before he turned on her and threw her out of his company on her rear end. The surge of anger doused the old memories, and her gaze met his.

“What then?” she asked, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Were you going to take your friend’s suggestion and seduce me? Certainly you’re so masterful in the bedroom that one good romp would change my mind, right?”

Wade moved a fraction of an inch closer to her. For a moment Tori tensed, thinking he might be leaning in to kiss her. She wanted him to, and she didn’t. She’d probably thoroughly enjoy it and then slap him when it was over. It was hard to think with him this close. He stopped short of touching his lips to hers. She could feel his warm breath on her skin.

“I’ve never had a woman offer me real estate after sex, but it wouldn’t be the first time one of my lovers felt the need to repay me for a fantastically pleasurable night together.”

Just the words fantastically pleasurable wrought a hard throb of need. She fought the urge to lean in to him. To discover what it would feel like to have his hard angles pressing into her soft curves. It had been a long time since she’d even let herself think of something like that. Not since things blew up with Ryan. She didn’t trust herself to make the right choices, even with the right kind of man.

And this was the absolute wrong man to light up her libido. He was too smooth. Too charming and certain of himself. It didn’t matter what he said or did, for every move he made was a strategic one. But that didn’t mean her every move couldn’t be a tactical one, as well. He already believed she could be manipulated through sex, or he never would’ve fired her. Let him think he was getting to her. Let him think he was winning.

Tori pressed a gentle hand to his chest. Her lips parted in invitation; a ragged breath of arousal escaped from her lungs. It wasn’t hard to play along: she just gave in to her impulses. She could feel his heart racing just as quickly as her own. He was not immune to his own game. They were both playing with fire.

“What makes you think I want you?” she whispered.

Granting her silent wish, he leaned in and pressed himself against her. The warmth of his hard body radiated through his clothing. The salty scent of male skin mingled with pine. Wade let his lips graze, nestling touches light as feathers along her jaw to her earlobe. The sensitive hollow of her neck sizzled with a touch that tempted and teased without giving her what she really wanted: his mouth against her skin and his hands beneath her shirt.

“Oh, you want me,” he whispered confidently into her ear. “Of that I’m certain.” Pulling away and taking all the night’s warmth with him, he met her gaze and smiled widely. “Good night, Miss Sullivan.”

She watched him stroll confidently down the sidewalk and disappear around the corner. She waited until the night was silent and still before she let the air out of her lungs. That man had managed to build a fire in her she hadn’t expected, especially considering how much she despised him. This was a dangerous game, but if he was trying to seduce her into selling, it would at least be more pleasurable than fighting. Especially when he lost.

A smile of amusement curled her lips. “Oh, you only think you won this round, Wade Mitchell. But the fun is just beginning.”

Three

By the time Wade returned to the farm that night, the lights in the big house were all out except for the front porch and the kitchen. His parents had always been early to bed, early to rise, as most farmers were. Thank goodness for the bunkhouse.

The renovated barn referred to as “the bunkhouse” had been where all the boys slept and played as kids. The historic Federal-style house that came with the farm was large, but old in style and design, never renovated to have enough bedrooms and bathrooms to accommodate an ever-changing herd of boys and Julianne all at once. But none of the boys minded the separation.

The bunkhouse had been the perfect boys’ retreat, and Julianne spent her fair share of time over there, as well. The entire downstairs was an open living area where they could do their homework, watch television, play video games and Ping-Pong, and roughhouse without breaking anything important. They even had their own mini-kitchen with a refrigerator, microwave and sink. As growing boys they were starving at all hours, and Molly didn’t want them running across the yard to the house in the cold and dark.

Upstairs were two huge bedrooms and adjoining baths. The rooms had twin beds and a set of bunk beds to accommodate up to six foster boys at one time. In addition to Wade and his brothers, there had been other children who came but didn’t stay long because they went back to their parents or were adopted by relatives. They rarely had an empty bed back then.

These days there were just the four of them, each having outgrown bunk beds. Molly had redecorated after they all moved out, and each room now had two queen-size beds. Typically the kids all arrived back at the farm at the same time: Christmas Eve. The big house hadn’t gotten any larger in the past decade, so the boys found themselves back in the bunkhouse.

Since he was the only one there, Wade could stay in the upstairs guest room of the big house. At least until Christmas when the others arrived. But somehow that felt wrong. Instead, he carried Molly’s requested groceries inside the big house, put them away and then locked the back door behind him. He grabbed the rest of his things from the hatch of his SUV and rolled his suitcase over to the bunkhouse.

Anticipating his move, Molly had left the porch light on, and on the mini-kitchen counter was a slice of lemon pound cake wrapped in cellophane and a note welcoming him home.

As he read the note he smiled and set the rest of his groceries beside it. He stashed a small case of water, cream cheese, Sumatran coffee beans and a six-pack of his favorite microbrewed dark ale in the fridge. He left the bagels and a bag of pretzels on the counter beside the cake.

God, it was nice to be home.

His loft apartment in Tribeca was nice—it should be, considering what he paid for it. But it didn’t feel like home. With its big glass windows and concrete floors, it was a little too modern in design to feel welcoming. It was chic and functional, which is what he thought he liked when he bought it. But it wasn’t until he set foot in this old barn with the battered table-tennis table and ancient two-hundred-pound television that he could truly relax.

Things hadn’t changed much in the bunkhouse. The futon where he first made out with Anna Chissom was still in the corner. She’d been his first girlfriend, a shy, quiet redhead who kicked off a long string of auburn-haired women in his life. The latest, of course, was giving him the most grief. But he still wished he could pull Victoria down onto the futon and finish what they’d started outside that bar.

He’d done it intending to get under her skin and punish her for dumping that drink on him. Then he found he liked touching her. Teasing her. He enjoyed the flush upon her creamy fair skin. The soft parting of her lips inviting him to kiss her. She responded to him, whether she wanted to or not, exposing her weakness. Now he just had to take advantage of it. There were worse negotiating tactics. Yet she wasn’t the only one suffering. He wanted to feel her mouth against his. And not just so she’d sell him her land.

Wade flopped back onto the couch and eyed his watch. It was only nine-thirty. He didn’t normally go to bed until well after eleven, especially on the weekends.

He was tempted to pull out his laptop and get some work done but was interrupted by the faint melody of his phone.

It was Brody’s ringtone—the dramatic pipe-organ melody of the theme to The Phantom of the Opera. It was a long-running family joke, considering his computer-genius brother was pretty much living out the plotline as a scarred recluse. But when you had the kind of life that most of the Eden boys had lived, you developed a pretty thick skin and a dark sense of humor to make it through.