Carson pulled into a curving driveway in a gated community, finding a long line of vehicles waiting for the valet. “Might take a bit,” he said, reaching for Sadie’s hand.
She gazed out the windshield. “Whose house is this?”
“Martin Solese, owner of Alabama Solar.”
“He’s the new sponsor?” She looked surprised.
“A big maybe,” he said, pulling up another couple of feet.
“His estate is beautiful.”
“Three thousand acres of pristine pastureland, orchards, and vineyards.”
“He owns a winery?”
“Several.”
“I can’t imagine having that kind of money.”
“Neither can I.” He pointed at the main house. “What’s the point of building a new home that’s a replica of a plantation? Do you know how many dilapidated properties are available around here? Ones the Historical Society is hoping someone will come along and restore?”
“New money,” Sadie offered. “Wants the charm and prestige, but none of the headaches that accompany a hundred-year-old-plus property. Whoever designed the place should win an architectural award. The symmetrical façade, stacked porches, and Greek columns look authentic. Extravagant.”
“Wait until you see the interior.”
“You’ve been here before?”
“Twice.”
After fifteen minutes, a valet finally opened Sadie’s door, and she climbed out. Carson joined her, placed his hand at the small of her back, and smiled. “Ready, sweetheart?”
The grand foyer was crowded, but that didn’t keep Sadie from admiring the double staircase and elegantly designed iron railings, the intricate design of the white and gold marble floor, or the black glass chandelier overhead. Every time she discovered something new to praise, she looked up at Carson, which made him chuckle. He’d like to spoil Sadie one day, give her the freedom to decorate his home—the house he wanted to share with her.
“Carson!” Martin, their host, called from across the space and headed toward them. He extended his hand, appearing genuinely happy to see him. “Welcome. I enjoyed the exhibition today.”
“Martin.” The one thing Carson hated more than anything in a man was a weak handshake. Not that he expected Martin’s grip to equal his, but…“This is Sadie Reynolds.”
The host’s indiscreet appreciation for Sadie’s beauty showed on his face. “A pleasure to meet you.” He took her hand and brushed a kiss over her knuckles.
Carson gritted his teeth. Maybe he should have opted out of the party after all. Martin threw extravagant parties all the time, invited the upper echelon—including dignitaries from around the world—and liked to push the legal limits for what qualified as acceptable entertainment.
A server with a tray full of Champagne stopped in front of them.
Martin instinctively grabbed three flutes, handing one to Sadie and one to Carson, then quickly downed his own. “The Champagne is made here in Alabama, Sadie. May I call you Sadie?”
“Of course.” She took another taste and licked her lips. “Delicious,” she praised.
Martin smiled and placed her hand in the crook of his arm, leading her through the foyer, down three stairs into an oversized den packed with people, past a media room with a theater-sized screen and at least twenty leather recliners, past a music room, then out a back door. Carson followed silently, ready to snatch the billionaire by the scruff of his neck and give him a good shake. But he didn’t. Sadie seemed to be enjoying their conversation.
They ended up inside a party tent in the back garden. Several players, including Ty, fist-bumped Carson as he walked through, eyeing the decedent surroundings. There was a crystal Champagne fountain, oyster bar, sushi bar, fondue station, a buffet-style grill set up with a chef, six-piece orchestra, dance floor, and dozens of tables.
“What’s your temptation?” Martin asked Sadie.
“My temptation?”
“Anything.” He raised a brow.
“I enjoy a bold Cabernet.”
“So do I,” Martin offered. “But I meant more exotic—forbidden tastes, perhaps?”
To Carson’s relief, Sadie reached for his hand. “Chocolate.”
Martin rumbled with laughter. “She’s very charming, Carson.”
“And not accustomed to these kinds of parties.”
“Of course, I understand. But such naïveté cannot last forever, can it?”
Sadie looked between them, searching for clarification.
Carson pulled her tight against him and whispered in her ear, “Martin hosts a food club.”
“Really? How interesting. What sort of cuisine do you feature? I’m not afraid to try something exotic.”
“Perhaps the best way to understand what I mean is to let you sample something very different.” He excused himself.
“I believe Martin is a bit eccentric,” she observed as the host walked away.
Carson was expected to spend time here to help his team. With talk of a new stadium, the franchise would need private donors like Martin to make it happen. This was his third such party at Martin’s home. And just beyond the tent, Carson knew what he’d find: another tent where the real party was—banned food and alcohol, high-dollar call girls, cocaine, and probably a high-stakes poker game. Only VIPs were allowed inside, and an armed guard was posted at the entrance. Carson didn’t want to expose Sadie to it. She wouldn’t understand. Hell, he could barely stomach the idea.
Martin returned with a silver bowl. “Please,” he said, offering her a forkful of delicate, black eggs. “Try this.”
Sadie tasted the caviar. “It bursts with flavor.”
“Yes,” Martin approved. “It’s Almas, otherwise known as black gold. The most sought-after caviar in the world.”
Sadie’s eyes went wide as she handed the fork back to Martin. “Thank you for letting me sample it.”
He waved a server over and then placed the bowl on her tray. Turning back to Carson, he said, “I’ll leave you to get settled. The invitation stands, Carson.”
Once Martin was out of earshot, Carson blew out a breath. “Jesus Christ,” he complained. “I can only handle small doses of that man.”
“Why?” she asked. “I rather enjoyed his company.”
“Sweetheart.” Carson fingered a strand of her soft red hair. “Martin just fed you illegal caviar.”
Sadie covered her mouth. “W-why didn’t you tell me? That’s horrible.”
“Don’t get upset. Wild beluga caviar is one of the tamer delicacies he offers.”
“What are you saying? What else does he eat—elephants? Shark-fin soup? Puppies and kittens?” Her voice raised an octave. “Hasn’t anyone informed the police of his illegal activities?”
Carson shook his head. “Martin and his cronies are untouchable. Too much money, and every politician within a thousand-mile radius of Mobile considers him an important friend and ally. He has better security than the president.”
Sadie sighed. “What about Jack?”
“He doesn’t get involved with these kind of events or fundraising. His sons do. Maybe after you’re done rebranding the team, you can focus on what goes on behind the scenes. How about we forget about Martin and focus on dancing?”
“Did I hear you correctly? You’re asking me to dance?”
“Yep.”
“This is new,” she said, pleasantly surprised.
“You always wished I was a more enthusiastic dancer.”
“What changed your mind? Or should I say who?”
“Jealous?”
The orchestra started to play a waltz and Carson didn’t wait for Sadie’s reply, he guided her to the dance floor, holding her close—breathing in her scent. She rested her cheek against his chest, swaying to the soft music. She belonged to him. As his hand slipped up her back, he wondered if this could last forever. Was this really their second chance at happiness?
A half hour later, Carson found an empty table for them to sit at and then wandered off for drinks and food. He returned with two beers, sushi rolls, and chocolate-covered strawberries.
Sadie eyed the temaki. “Should I be nervous about what’s inside the wrap?”
“Not at all,” he assured her. “Anything served out here is safe.”
“But…”
“Martin was just showing off before, sweetheart. He liked you.”
Braving a taste of sushi, she made a satisfied noise as she swallowed her first bite. “The crab melts in your mouth. Taste it.”
Carson took a sip of beer, then grabbed a piece of the cone-shaped sushi. He bit into it, crab, spicy tuna, and rice filling his mouth.
“Well?”
“I’d rather hand-feed you in my bed.”
Sadie shifted on her seat. “That can be arranged.”
“Can it?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” she said, reaching for a chocolate-covered strawberry. She took a delicate bite, then offered the rest to Carson. “Like this?”
He licked her fingertips as he accepted the treat, undressing her with his eyes. He’d never be able to get enough of her. “I think I’m ready to go now.”
“That was too easy.”
“Nothing easy about it,” he assured her. “I’m dying to get inside you, Sadie. And if we don’t hurry up and go, I’ll find an empty bedroom here—though a closet or bathroom will serve just as well.”
She dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a linen napkin, then folded it neatly and set it on the table. Crooking a finger at him, Carson had no choice but to lean closer to Sadie. “How desperate are you to make love to me?” she asked.
“Incredibly desperate.” Now everybody was going to know about them, but Carson didn’t care. He wanted his relationship with Sadie to go public. It would show her how serious he was. “Do you need more convincing?” This time he offered her a strawberry, enjoying the way her full lips wrapped around the decadent dessert, her pink tongue licking the trace of chocolate from her bottom lip.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment, imagining what her tongue could do to his cock—what explosive passion her tiny, warm hands could inspire.
“Carson?”
He grinned. “Sorry, Kitty Kat.”
“Kitty Kat?”
Carson frowned at the male voice, finding Jag standing next to Sadie. “Jag,” he said, extending his hand, irritated by the intrusion.
Jag shook it. “Not joining us in the VIP tonight?”
“I have plans.”
Jag’s gaze slipped to Sadie. “I can see that.”
“Tell the team I’ll see them at practice tomorrow.”
“Mind if I dance with the lady before you go?” Jag asked, focusing on Carson again.
Carson stood. “Yeah, I do mind.” He offered his hand to Sadie, and she took it, rising from her chair.
“Does she?” Jag gestured at Sadie.
Carson’s body went rigid. “What do you think, sweetheart?”
She gazed up at him, then glanced at Jag. “Thanks for the tempting offer, but I’m not done playing with the quarterback.”
She squeezed Carson’s fingers, signaling she was ready to go. It pleased him to witness her shutting Jag Patera down. But something kept niggling at his gut as they walked through the house and out the front door. What did Sadie mean by saying I’m not done playing with the quarterback? Jag had obviously approached Sadie before. It pissed him off, but he wouldn’t push the issue right now. It just meant he’d have to keep a closer eye on his teammate—and on Sadie, because he didn’t trust Jag to respect boundaries.
The valet delivered his truck, and once they drove away from the house, he turned on the radio and rested his hand on her knee, trying to concentrate on the road. A couple miles into the drive, he sighed, overcome with both desire and anger. “That’s it,” he declared as he pulled off the street, putting on his emergency lights, and killing the ignition. “I can’t wait.”
As if she felt the same, Sadie unbuckled her seat belt and then opened her door.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Out here.” She closed the door and started for the woods a few feet away from the shoulder.
“Sonofabitch.” Carson climbed out of the truck and followed her, more than ready to make love in the woods.