Page 10 of Moonshine and Magnolias (Just Add Peaches #1)
Hell, yes. Especially after that mention of her ancestors being moonshiners.
“That’s what I’m here to find out. It will be easier if I can immerse myself in what life was like when this was a plantation and the transition to Reconstruction and when Fountenoy Hall became an Inn.
” Rob studied her, one eyebrow raised, and took a calculated risk.
“I’ve obviously walked into something here. ”
Her hands twisted around the hair that hung over her shoulder, but he didn’t think she was aware of her actions.
“It’s fine.” She took out her phone with a small sigh. “My cousin is a little new to how things work. I’m going to need you to sign confidentiality agreements and give me permission to run a background check, since you’ll be working with kids. I don’t suppose you have references?”
“My clients are confidential. You could get a subpoena.”
She didn’t acknowledge his joke. “That won’t be necessary. I can fit you in right when the nightcap hour is over. Do you have time to do it then?”
“Will I have to confess about the pack of gum I stole when I was eight?”
Ah, there was the crack in her business persona. A hint of a smile stole over her lips and he went right back to thinking about kissing them.
“I think we can keep adolescent transgressions secret. I’m sorry to throw you off your schedule, but don’t do any work yet, okay?”
“Oh, man. I cleared my entire evening for this. Kidding,” he said when panic flashed across her face.
Laughter drifted through the library door and her head turned in that direction. “Will you excuse me for a minute?”
She smoothed out her skirt and headed to lobby without waiting for an answer.
That made three times in this short span that she had to deal with something unplanned.
No wonder she kept lists. Rob watched the sway of her hips while she walked, her fingers playing with the ponytail that hung over her neck.
One day, he’d like to see her with her hair down, swirling around her graceful, naked shoulders.
Another swallow of the whiskey banished that image, and he slid her book around to read the cover. Not surprising, it was the latest best-seller on leadership and skills and building a business infrastructure. He moved the book back in place.
The TOURS box beckoned to him from across the room.
It would have been better if he had done his research upstairs, but then he wouldn’t have heard about Wendy’s family running moonshine.
Plus, walking around the grounds would give him and Hal unbelievable access to places that might have held Uncle Louis’s treasure.
Uneasiness at the duplicity twisted his gut, and he abandoned the work to stare at the impressive collection of books lining the walls. Clear glass covered a Jane Austen that stood next to The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn . Less valuable literature lay on the shelves accessible to anyone.
The air charged the moment Wendy came back into the room, but he didn’t turn around. Instead, he waited, exhaling a satisfied breath when she joined him. “Sorry about that. I wanted Brandi available when you become an official Fountenoy Hall employee later tonight.”
“No problem.” He lifted his finger to the glass protecting the battered copy of Les Misérables as if he could touch the literature inside. “First edition?”
“And in French.” Wendy reached for her drink, then used her finger to adjust the position of the leadership book she had been reading.
“One of my ancestors knew someone who knew someone who knew John Slidell, who got the book in Paris when he was trying to talk Napoleon into supporting the South. Not many soldiers could read French, so it eventually ended up in the hands of my family.”
“Your house is a dream for any student of history.” He moved over to the secretary behind a glass display. Four large books stood on the shelves and a fifth sat open on the writing desk. The leather covers had faded with age, but the word Bible was visible on their sides.
“Beautiful,” Rob said. “Tell me about these.” Books were safe and entertaining. Books didn’t have solemn eyes that hid a yearning. Books didn’t make his body hard just by looking at them.
Okay, the old Bibles might, but that was just him being a history geek.
Wendy traced a line down the display case.
“They’ve been in my family since the early 1800s.
My many-times great grandmother used those Bibles to teach slaves to read, regardless of the consequences for breaking the law.
The other family members all knew, but no one stopped her.
” Her mouth twisted. “I hate that whole part of my history, but I can’t deny where I came from. So there it is.”
“Think to what these books have born witness. The people who touched them, the gatherings, the guests.”
“I used to wonder that, too. Like, what happened within these walls that led to me being right here, right now.”
He hid the glance he gave her with another swallow of his drink. “Used to?”
“There’s no point anymore, is there? I’m here.
” She shrugged and put down her mason jar.
“I had to move around a lot when I was younger, but once I started high school, my mom and I moved here and Dad would go wherever his orders took him. I couldn’t control it either way.
I can’t go back, so there’s no reason to waste time thinking about it. ”
“Don’t let any of my clients hear you say that.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean to insult your work.” She sighed when she caught sight of his grin. “The past is important, but not as important to me as the present and future.”
“Hey. Don’t go knocking the past,” he teased. “It led to me being here, too. In the present.”
Her teeth snuck out to bite at her bottom lip. Slowly she nodded, bringing her eyes up to meet his. “Yeah, it did.”
God, he wanted her sexy mouth beneath his.
He put his drink down on the nearest flat surface and grasped her hand, breaching the safe-distance barrier she had set up around herself.
Her breath caught, but she didn’t step away.
Need thickened the air between them as he leaned forward, slowly, so slowly, making his intentions clear. He was going to kiss her.
***
Wendy’s whole treacherous system craved him.
She had to shut it down. Caving to a fleeting moment of desire wasn’t worth giving up the control she worked hard to maintain. She flinched away from the intensity in his face, the raw emotion she would never herself expose, and held up a hand. “Dr. Upshaw. Stop.”
Hunger darkened Rob’s eyes, but he raised his hands and stepped away. His lips tilted in a sensual smile. “Don’t you think it’s time you started calling me Rob?”
Something stirred in her chest at his playful tone. She opened her mouth to protest, but couldn’t make a sound.
A chime sounded in the hallway, indicating the end of the after-dinner hour and breaking the hold of his words.
The noise served as a good excuse to put distance between them while she caught her breath and dealt with the mixed feelings of confusion and pleasure.
She kept her back to him and locked the empty liquor cabinet and put their jars on the tray.
Finally the turmoil inside her subsided and she was able to face him. “Ready for those forms, Dr. Upshaw?” She kept her voice calm and even, as if nothing had happened.
One eyebrow quirked up, but he nodded and followed her out of the library. She should have felt relief. Instead, the tension and ache in her body hinted she had cast aside a chance for something…more.
No. That was just hormones and emotions working their black magic on her. With her experience of letting herself get close to someone, only to have them pass her over for something more exciting, she knew better than to trust them.
The office loomed in front of her, bringing on an unexpected wave of sorrow. Guess she hadn’t conquered the sense of loss. She held the keyring in a death grip so Rob wouldn’t see her shaking hands. Just a few more steps.
“It will be okay,” he murmured behind her.
He was too observant by far. His voice warmed her chilled body, and tears pricked behind her eyes. Damn him, those words were just what she needed to hear. “It’s just a room,” she said, echoing her earlier sentiment. It lacked conviction.
“We both know it’s not. ”
It had to be, if she was going to survive. She unlocked the door and pushed it open. One flick and the room flooded with light.
“Have a seat,” she said, proud that she could keep her voice strong and unwavering. She motioned to the visitor chair while she booted up the computer. If she wanted to prove her words, she’d have sit in the antique Chippendale.
“Sure thing, Boss.” Rob’s long legs carried him to the chair, but he didn’t sit. Instead, he raised his chin in a gesture aimed at the picture behind her. “Is that a reproduction of Fountenoy Hall’s blueprints?” He scooted around the desk to get a better view of the hand-drawn building.
She exhaled to keep from breathing in his male woodsy scent. “Yes. Based on the original design, I think.”
One long finger traced the thick lines. She followed the movement out of the corner of her eye while she tried to find the right files. What would it feel like for him to trace her the same way, all over her body?
“There are extra spaces and rooms where now there are walls,” he noted. “Like here, in the library. According to this, it should be at least five feet wider.”
“Something probably changed while it was being built. And it’s been renovated a few times.” And, of course, keeping those extra spaces secret had aided her nefarious ancestors during Prohibition.
Oh, victory. The directory labeled Employment Papers put her back on familiar ground.
Wendy sent the necessary forms to the printer, then went around a filing cabinet to retrieve them as Rob sat down.
The machine had printed a blank page, so she crumpled it up and pitched it at the recycle bin ten feet from the desk.