Beg for It(17)

“Not always,” he replied.

Her chin lifted. “You do it often enough.”

They stared at each other over the table, but Reese refused to allow himself to get lost in her gaze. Fathomless, blue, he’d more than once dived into those eyes and let himself drown.

“From everything I was able to find out about Stein and Sons, you’re looking at the total dissolution of the business before the end of the year, unless things change,” he said.

“Which is why you think you can sneak in with that horrible offer, right? I read the terms. You’re not obligated to keep any of the existing board, staff, or employees. So what does that mean? You’re going to come in and fire us all?”

He’d done it in the past, when it made sense for the business, but he’d only put those terms in there this time to make it less likely the board would approve the sale. “I’d do what was best for the acquisition.”

“You’d do what was best for yourself,” she said in a low voice. “Whatever you needed to do for you.”

He scowled. “You’re not being fair.”

“Something tells me this isn’t about being fair.”

“Corinne…”

“I cannot in good conscience suggest to my board that they take your offer, Reese. But they’re desperate. So they’ll probably take it anyway. You’re going to come in and rip it to shreds, put them out of business. Put people out of their jobs, and what do you expect them to do? There aren’t a lot of positions for goat cheese artisans around. And what about me? I’ve been with Stein and Sons for my entire career. Did you think about that? How I might need my job to support myself? My kids?” She took a slow, shuddery breath. “I have two children. They’re my life.”

“You can find another job. You don’t make goat cheese.”

“Sure, because finding a new position that pays me what I’m paid, with my benefits, my flexible hours, yes, that’s so easy at my age. Starting over.” Her lip curled slightly. “Says the man with the yacht.”

“I don’t have a yacht,” Reese told her quietly.

“No, because you get seasick,” she shot back at him.

It was true. She remembered. The words hung between them, somehow accusatory.

He wanted to kiss her.

He wanted to hate her.

He wanted to save her.

“I’ll see you at the meeting on Monday,” he told her, and left her sitting alone in the diner booth.





Chapter Nine


Before


It’s been a long, lazy day of nothing but bed and tea and kissing. They’d gone to bed with the dawn and slept for some hours before Reese woke her with the stroking of his fingers between her legs, finding her clit with that same unerring precision he always did. He’d given her an orgasm, and they’d fallen back to sleep.

Now he’s on his back, one arm above his head, his face turned from her. Corinne had woken a few minutes before and gone to the bathroom to pee and brush her teeth, to generally freshen up a little. She creeps back into the bedroom to stand next to him, looking down at his peaceful, sleeping face. His lips are parted, a soft puff of breath escaping every so often. His brow furrows, eyes moving behind his closed lids.

Dreaming.

Of her? she wonders. Certainly she dreams of him sometimes, mostly when they aren’t together but sometimes even as he sleeps beside her. They’ve been doing that more and more over the past few weeks. He hasn’t quite moved in with her, not yet, but he might as well have. He’s had another falling out with his father that she hasn’t wanted to ask too much about, waiting for him to tell her on his own, but she knows it has to do with Reese quitting the farm.

She can imagine how disappointing it must be for his dad to find out his only son doesn’t want to continue with the family business, and how hard it will be on the farm’s operating budget to replace Reese with higher paid labor. She knows it’s been hard on her boy, who has been looking for a job to replace the farm work, without much success. They’ve spoken of college—he wants to continue past the two-year business degree he already has. He needs money for a place to live, a car, food. School is not the priority.

She could ask him to move in with her, she thinks. Two could live as cheap as one, as the saying goes. She’s already covering the rent on this apartment and all her expenses with the waitressing. She’s eight months away from finishing her degree and already has a couple of job offers lined up for her. Accounting is far from what she’d dreamed about spending her life doing, but it will be better than the late night shift at the diner, long-term.

Besides, she thinks fondly, her boy will make her life easier, even if he can’t contribute financially right off. When he isn’t job hunting, he can mop the floors and clean the toilets and cook for her, she thinks with a small shiver of delight, imagining him at those domestic chores wearing only a pair of lace panties and a blush—he hates when she orders him to wear panties, but he loves that he hates it. Oh, Corinne thinks with another slow, rolling shiver, he will do her laundry. All of it, washing and drying and folding.

Reese shifts in his sleep, the sheet slipping down to reveal the firm muscles of his bare belly and the fine line of dark hair disappearing below the edge of the fabric. With a small, careful tug, Corinne pulls the sheet farther down to reveal the sweetly sleeping head of his cock, half-hard. He takes a slow sip of breath, but doesn’t wake.