Chapter Seventeen
“I’m sorry,” Savannah repeated. Her father had always known how to play on her insecurities. She’d spent years figuring out how to combat that. And now, with the possibility of a second chance with Harlan dangling right in front of her, she’d almost—please God, don’t let me have ruined it—thrown it away. Savannah needed to decide right now whether she was going to believe and trust Harlan or her father.
Loving her father didn’t make her blind to his faults. Loving him didn’t mean she could trust him to tell her the truth.
“Will you forgive me?” She squeezed Harlan’s hand and waited.
“Nothing to forgive,” he said.
Savannah went into his arms, hugging him as tightly as he hugged her. She raised her head from his chest and he kissed her. Sighing, she sank into the kiss. His mouth was firm, but his lips were soft. His tongue sought hers, teased hers until she met it. He boosted her up onto her desk and stepped between her legs. The wide skirt of her white shirt-dress lay crumpled between them as she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him closer, kissing him all the while.
His hands were at her dress buttons, having them undone before she knew it. He slipped his hands inside, beneath her bra, rubbing her sensitive nipples with his palms.
“Harlan,” she gasped against his mouth. “We’re out in the main office. What if someone—”
“Stay right there.” He walked quickly to the door and locked it. Then he turned around and smiled. “I like that look.”
“You would,” she said, aware her dress was gaping to show her bra and her skirt was pushed up high on her thighs. He picked her up and she wrapped her arms and legs around him, kissing him as he took her to his office. Once there he let her down, slowly, locked the door then pushed her back against it. His hands were everywhere, as was his mouth.
He finished opening her buttons to her waist, then pushed the sleeves down her arms and off. Then he took off her bra and palmed her breasts, held them up to make it easier to kiss them, lick the nipples, take them into his mouth and suck.
“Oh, my God,” she groaned. And then it hit her. “Harlan, wait. We don’t have any—”
“Yes we do.”
“We do? When—”
“After we made love. In case something like this happened.” He backed up and took her hand, led her to his desk. Yanked open a drawer and pulled out a condom.
Savannah reached for his jeans, unbuttoned and unzipped them. Pulled them down along with his boxers and fitted the condom on his cock.
“Have you ever done it on a desk?” he asked her.
“No,” she said, pumping her hand up and down, once, twice, before he grabbed it.
He picked her up and sat her on the desk. “You’re about to.” He reached beneath her skirt and began tugging down her panties. She lifted her hips to help him. She’d kicked off her shoes on the way in. He pulled her panties all the way off, stepped between her legs and plunged inside her. Deep. Hot. Hard. Stroked in and out. She felt his fingers between them, rubbing her most sensitive spot as he drove inside her.
She shattered with a cry that he took into his mouth, kissing her, then drawing back he locked gazes with her, and thrust inside her until he came with a guttural groan of release.
*
“I feel very naughty,” Savannah said. “I like it.” They’d both gotten dressed, mostly, and she was curled up in Harlan’s lap in his big leather desk chair.
Harlan laughed. “Good to know.”
“Are we okay now?” she asked.
For now. But Harlan couldn’t help wondering what she’d do the next time her old man pulled something. Because Harlan didn’t doubt he would. Which wasn’t good on many levels, not the least of which was because he was in love with Savannah to the point that he’d been thinking about marriage.
Was he crazy? They hadn’t been back together very long. Still, he’d known almost from the moment he saw her again that she was the one woman for him. But did she feel the same?
“Yes, we’re okay. But next time you want to know something just ask me. Don’t stew about it.”
“I wasn’t stewing,” she said, offended.
Harlan raised his eyebrows. “From where I sit it sure looked like it.”
“Maybe a little,” she admitted. “Can you tell me about what happened?”
He knew Savannah would keep it to herself. Besides, most people around Whiskey River knew the story, even if they’d forgotten it after all this time. Judy and Jasper had been married since Alan was three, and Alan was Jasper’s son in every way that mattered. Alan knew Jasper wasn’t his natural father. His parents had told him about his biological father several years back, when they thought he was ready to hear it. As far as Harlan knew, the man had never expressed any interest in claiming his son. Which suited everyone involved just fine.
“A few months before you and I got together Laurel came to me and asked me to help a friend of hers. Her friend Judy was sixteen and pregnant. Judy was terrified of telling her parents, and the guy refused to take responsibility. Laurel wondered if I could talk to the father-to-be.”
He fisted his hand. “That didn’t work so well. He said it wasn’t his, that she’d been with half the guys in school and other shit like that.”
“Poor Judy. What did you do then?”
“Beat the crap out of him,” Harlan said matter-of-factly. “And warned him not to be spreading any bullshit lies about Judy or I’d make him really sorry. He knew he was the father. He knew she hadn’t been with anyone else. Judy was a sweet, naive kid who loved the bastard and believed he loved her. She thought he’d marry her once she told him she was pregnant.”
“What happened when it was clear he wouldn’t step up?”
“Laurel and I convinced her to tell her parents. They weren’t happy but they loved her and supported her decision to have the baby. She planned to give up the baby for adoption.” He laughed. “Which didn’t happen, obviously. Judy and her parents fell in love with him the minute they saw him.”
“I’m glad her parents were there for her.”
“Me too. It was hard enough for her with their support.”
“And yours and your sister’s.”
“We did what we could, but her parents were key. Laurel and I are Alan’s godparents. Judy and Jasper were really good to Laurel when her no-good husband left her and their kids high and dry.”
“I knew Laurel was divorced but I didn’t realize her ex was a deadbeat dad.”
Harlan nodded. “He’s a real piece of shit.”
“I’m sorry. Laurel has had a hard life, hasn’t she?”
“Yes and she’s too stubborn to let Travis and me help much. But enough of that. I think it’s quitting time. Are you hungry?”
Savannah smiled and slid off his lap. “I think we checked out quite a while ago.”
*
The next evening Harlan met Logan and Eli at Logan’s house. Or mansion, Harlan thought with a grin as he banged on the door.
Logan opened the door and asked, “Why didn’t you ring the bell?”
“Because I couldn’t find the damn thing,” Harlan retorted. “This is how the rich and famous live, huh?”
Eli appeared in the doorway to one of the rooms. “You should see the rest of the mausoleum.”
“Screw you,” Logan said without heat. “Are we playing poker or are you ladies going to discuss decorating?”
“Poker,” Eli and Harlan both said.
Logan led the way to a room on the first floor that might have once been one of those useless rooms fancy-ass houses had. “This I can handle.” Simply put, it was a man cave. Along with a poker table, there was a pool table. There was a leather couch with leather side chairs and a gleaming dark wood coffee table. There was a bar and a refrigerator, which Harlan assumed was full of beer.
“So, is that where you watch your own movies, Logan?” Eli asked, pointing at the enormous flat screen mounted TV that covered almost an entire wall.
“No, asshole. That’s where I watch football.”
“Touchy, touchy,” Harlan said. “Is this the only…comfortable room in the house?”
“My bedroom is fine. But I gave the decorator specific instructions for my bedroom and this room. I let her do whatever to the rest of the house.” He rolled his eyes. “How the hell was I to know she’d go nuts?”
Logan went to the refrigerator and came back with three beers, gave each of them one, then sat down to deal. “Texas Hold’em,” he said. “Not one of those weird-ass games you like to slip in,” he said to Eli.
“Hey, deuce-to-seven triple draw is a perfectly respectable game,” Eli said.
“Sure it is,” Harlan said. “For weird-ass people.”
They talked about the winery and their plans for it while they played. The buildings would be more utilitarian than esthetically pleasing, although they wanted the wine tasting room and main entry to be unusual as well as appealing.
“What would you two say to building a restaurant?” Eli asked.
“I’d be happy to build it, but I didn’t know you two were even thinking about having one.”
“Neither did I,” said Logan.
“Because I didn’t decide I wanted to do it until recently.”
“I get it,” Logan said. “It’s the redheaded baker, right? You want her to run it.”
“Rachel,” Eli said. “And yes, but Rachel isn’t the only reason. I think Whiskey River could support another nice restaurant. So far the only nice one we have is Baron’s Steakhouse. Our restaurant would be more European.”
“It’s something to think about,” Logan conceded.
“What do you think, Harlan?” Eli asked. “Can Whiskey River support another restaurant?”
“If you build it by the winery you won’t be limited to just Whiskey River. You’re going to draw from a much larger area.”
“Good point,” Logan said. “But restaurants are risky investments.”
“Rachel knows what she’s doing,” Eli said. “And with us and the winery backing it, I think we could do well.”
“Speaking of investments,” Harlan said. “One of my contacts, a very dependable one, told me earlier today that Savannah’s father invested heavily in a multimillion-dollar real estate land development deal.”
“So? Is that a problem?” Logan asked.
“Yes. The other two investors didn’t have the money, and they got a little creative over how to get it. Now they’re in jail, accused of investment advisor fraud, awaiting a grand jury’s decision as to whether or not to prosecute them. It sounds like a slam dunk that they will go to trial. Even if they get off, which is doubtful, they won’t have the money. But Taylor’s money is tied up in it. Now he’s responsible for the whole thing.”
“And you don’t want Savannah’s old man to be ruined financially,” Eli said.
“No, he can go to hell as far as I’m concerned. I think the son of a bitch deserves whatever he gets. But Savannah loves him.”
“Why do you hate him?” Logan asked.
“I don’t hate him, exactly. I just think he’s a piece of shit.” Hell, he might as well tell them some of it. “So far, he’s tried three times to break us up. The first was in high school and it worked.”
“What did he do?” This from Eli.
“It’s not important. But it worked, big time. So fast-forward to recent history. He’s tried twice more to break us up since he found out I was the one who bought Whiskey River Construction.”
“Are you two serious?” Eli asked.
“Obviously,” said Logan before Harlan could answer. “Why else would he care what happens to the bastard?”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Eli agreed.
“Okay, so what does this have to do with you?” Logan asked.
“I have a chance to save his ass. I can become the majority investor. I have a different purpose in mind than Taylor and his cronies had. One I think will be both more lucrative and more pleasing to the community.”
“How is Savannah going to feel if or when he goes down?” Logan asked.
“She’s pissed at him right now, but she still loves him. She’ll be really upset when she hears how bad his debt is.”
“Will she expect you to help him?” asked Eli.
“Expect?” Harlan shook his head. “No. But she loves him. And I love her.” He thought about that a minute. “Shit, I’m going to have to do it.”
“Damn, Harlan, you’ve got it bad,” Logan said.
“Yeah.” So bad he was going to bail out the bastard who tried more than once to ruin his life.