“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 onto her rear end. The surge of anger doused the old memories as 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 pressed a gentle hand to his chest. 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.

Dear Reader,

I’m so excited to share this book with you. Undeniable Demands kicks off my very first series—SECRETS OF EDEN. When I first started writing for Mills & Boon® Desire™, I immersed myself in the world of wealthy, powerful alpha males. My first two heroes had family money to help them start their business empires, so this time I wanted to write some self-made heroes. I wanted a group of men who had defied the odds, overcome tragedy and made themselves into the sexy alpha heroes that Desire readers know and love.

But everyone has some baggage from their past, and the heroes of SECRETS OF EDEN are no exception. The foster brothers share a dark secret that threatens not only their family and their livelihood but their chance to find love. At the same time, their secret is what brings Wade and Victoria together. And boy, do the sparks fly! The spunky environmental architect isn’t about to make anything easy for Wade, and it was fun to write about their tempestuous relationship.

I can’t wait for you to fall in love with the whole Eden family, as I have. If you enjoy Wade and Tori’s story, tell me by visiting my website at www.andrealaurence.com, like my fan page on Facebook or follow me on Twitter. I love to hear from my readers!

Enjoy!

Andrea

About the Author

ANDREA LAURENCE has been a lover of reading and writing stories since she learned her ABCs. She always dreamed of seeing her work in print and is thrilled to finally be able to share her books with the world. A dedicated West Coast girl transplanted to the Deep South, she’s working on her own “happily ever after” with her boyfriend and their collection of animals that shed like nobody’s business. You can contact Andrea at her website, www.andrealaurence.com.

Undeniable
Demands
Andrea Laurence

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Vicki Lewis Thompson, Rhonda Nelson

and Kira Sinclair

You’re the best plotting partners a girl could have.

You helped me take the smallest kernel of an idea

and develop it into a great multibook series.

I look forward to many more years of creativity,

laughter and good food with my ladies.

One

Wade hated the snow. Always had. You’d think a man born and raised in New England would feel differently or leave, but he’d done neither. Every November when the first few flakes started falling, a part of his soul would shrivel up until spring. That was why he’d booked himself a trip to Jamaica for the week before Christmas. He’d planned to return to the Edens’, as always, for the holiday, but the frantic call he’d received from his foster sister, Julianne, had changed everything.

He had been loath to tell his assistant to cancel the trip, but perhaps if all went well, he could use the reservation after Christmas. He could ring in the New Year on a beach, drinking something frothy, with thoughts of his troubles buried deep.

Interesting choice of words.

The BMW SUV wound its way down the two-lane road that led to the Garden of Eden Christmas Tree Farm. Wade preferred to drive his roadster, but rural Connecticut in winter was just not the place for it, so he’d left it in Manhattan. The SUV had snow tires, chains in the back and enough clearance not to scrape on chunks of ice in poorly cleared areas.

Spying the large red apple-shaped sign that marked the entrance to his foster parents’ Christmas tree farm, Wade breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized until that moment that he’d been holding his breath. Even under the less-than-ideal circumstances, returning home always made him feel better.

The farm was the only home he’d ever really had. None of the other foster homes had felt like one. He had no warm memories of living with his great-aunt before that, nor of his early years with his mother. But the Garden of Eden was just that: paradise. Especially for an abandoned young boy who could just as easily have become a career criminal as a millionaire in real estate.

The Edens changed everything. For him and every other child who had come to live there. He owed that couple his life. They were his parents, without question. Wade didn’t know who his father was and had only seen his mother once since she dropped him at her aunt’s doorstep as a toddler. When he thought of home and family, he thought of the farm and the family the Edens had pulled together.

They were able to have only one child of their own, their daughter, Julianne. For a time it seemed that their dreams of a house bustling with children who would help on the farm and one day take over the family business had been dashed. But then they decided to renovate an old barn into a bunkhouse perfect for rowdy boys and started taking in foster children.

Wade had been the first. Julianne had been in pigtails when he arrived, dragging her favorite doll behind her. Wade had been in his share of foster homes, and this time just felt different. He was not a burden. Not a way to get a check from the state. He was their son.

Which is why he wished he was visiting them for another reason. In his own mind, disappointing his parents would be the greatest sin he could commit. Even worse than the one he’d committed fifteen years ago that got him into this mess.

Wade turned the SUV into the driveway, then bypassed the parking lot and took the small road behind their large Federal-style house to where the family kept their cars. It was nearing the middle of the afternoon on a Friday, but even so, there were at least ten customer cars in the lot. It was December 21—only a few days until Christmas. His mother, Molly, would be in the gift shop, pushing sugar cookies, cider and hot chocolate on folks while they waited for Ken or one of the employees to haul and bag their new tree.

Wade felt the sudden, familiar urge to start trimming trees and hauling them out to people’s cars. He’d done it for all of his teenage years and every Christmas break from Yale. It came naturally to want to jump back into the work. But first things first. He had to take care of the business that had brought him here instead of the warm beaches of Jamaica.

Julianne’s call had been unexpected. None of the kids were very good about calling or visiting their parents or each other like they should. They were all busy, all successful, the way the Edens had wanted them to be. But their success also made it easy to forget to make time for the important people in their lives.

When Julianne had shown up at the farm for Thanksgiving with little warning, she’d been in for quite the surprise. Their father, Ken, was recovering from a heart attack. They hadn’t called any of the kids because they didn’t want them worrying about it or the crippling hospital bills.

Wade, Heath, Xander, Brody—any of the boys could’ve written a check and taken care of their problems, but Ken and Molly insisted they had it under control. Unfortunately, their solution was to sell a few plots of land they couldn’t use for growing trees. They couldn’t understand why the kids were so upset. And of course, the kids couldn’t tell their parents the truth. That secret needed to remain buried in the past. And Wade was here to make sure it stayed that way.

If he was lucky, he could take one of the four-wheelers out to the property, buy the land back from the new owner and return before Molly could start wondering what he was up to. He wouldn’t keep the purchase a secret from his parents, but he’d certainly rather they not fret over the whole situation until it was done.

Wade found the house empty, as expected. He left a note on the worn kitchen table, slipped into his heavy coat and boots and went out to grab one of the four-wheelers. He could’ve driven his SUV, but he didn’t want to pull up in an expensive car and start waving money around at people.

Heath and Brody had both made visits to the farm since Julianne broke the news. Digging up as much information as they could, they found out that the person who had bought the smallest parcel of land was already living out there in some kind of camper. That sounded positive to him. They might need the money more than the land. But if they thought some rich guy was bullying them to sell it, they’d clamp down. Or jack up the price.

Wade took the four-wheeler down the well-worn path that went through the center of the farm. After selling eighty-five acres, the Edens still had two hundred acres left. Almost all of it was populated with balsam and Fraser fir trees. The northeastern portion of the property was sloped and rocky. They’d never had much success planting trees out there, so he’d understood why Ken had opted to sell it. He just wished his father hadn’t.

By the time he rounded a corner on the trail and neared the border of the Edens’ property, it was a little after two-thirty. The sky was clear and blue and the sun’s rays pounded down on the snow, making it nearly blinding despite his sunglasses. He slowed and pulled out the new surveyor’s map Brody had downloaded. The eighty-five acres that his parents had sold were split into two large tracts and one small one. Comparing the map to the GPS location on his phone, he could tell that just over the rise was the smallest, a ten-acre residential property. He was fairly certain this was the one he was after.

Wade refolded the map and looked around for any familiar landmarks. He’d deliberately chosen a spot he would remember. There had been a crooked maple tree and a rock that looked like a giant turtle. He scanned the landscape, but it appeared to him as though all the trees were crooked, and all the rocks were buried under a foot of snow. It was impossible to know for sure if this chunk of the property was the right one.

Damn. He’d thought for certain that he would know the spot when he saw it. That night fifteen years ago remained etched in his memory no matter how hard he tried to forget it. It was one of those moments that changes your whole life. Where you make a decision, right or wrong, and have to live with it forever.

Still, Wade was certain this was the right area. He didn’t remember traveling far enough to reach the other plots. He’d been in too big a hurry to roam around the property all night trying to find the perfect spot. He eyed another maple tree, this one more crooked than the others. That had to be the one. He’d just have to buy the land back and hope that once spring came around, he would find the turtle rock at its base and know he’d bought the right plot.

Surging forward through the snow, he continued up to the rise and then started descending into the clearing toward what looked like some sort of shimmering silver mirage.

He pulled closer and realized it was the midafternoon sun reflecting off the superbly polished aluminum siding of an old Airstream trailer. You could have got a suntan from the rays coming off that thing. Parked beside it was an old Ford pickup truck with dually tires to haul the twenty-foot monster of a camper.

Wade stopped and killed the engine on the four-wheeler. There was no sign of life from inside the camper yet. Brody had searched online for the property sale records and found the new owner was V. A. Sullivan. Cornwall was a fairly small town, and he didn’t remember any Sullivans when he went to school, so they must be new to the area. That was just as well. He didn’t need to deal with anyone who remembered his troublesome days before the Edens and might give him grief.

His boots crunched through the snow until he reached the rounded doorway. It had a small window in it that he watched for movement when he knocked. Nothing. No sound of people inside, either.

Just great. He’d come all the way out here for nothing.

Wade was about to turn and head back home when he heard the telltale click of a shotgun safety. His head spun to the left, following the sound, and he found himself in the sights. The woman was standing about twenty feet away, bundled just as heavily as he was in a winter coat with a knit cap and sunglasses hiding most of her features. Long strands of fiery red hair peeked out from her hat and blew in the chilly wind. The distinctive color immediately caught his eye. He’d known a woman with hair that color a long time ago. It had been beautiful, like liquid flames. Appropriate, since he was playing with fire now.

On reflex, his hands went up. Getting shot by some overprotective, rural militia type was not on his agenda for the day. “Hey, there,” he called out, trying to sound as friendly and nonthreatening as he could.

The woman hesitated, and then the shotgun dropped slightly. “Can I help you?”

“Are you Mrs. Sullivan?” Hopefully Mr. Sullivan wasn’t out in the woods with a shotgun of his own.

“Miss Sullivan,” she corrected. “What’s it to you?”

A single female. Even better. Wade had a certain charm about him that served him well with the fairer sex. He smiled widely. “My name is Wade Mitchell. I wanted to talk to you about possibly—”

“Arrogant, pigheaded real-estate developer Wade Mitchell?” The woman took a few steps forward.

Wade frowned. She didn’t seem to care for him at all. He wished to God the woman wasn’t so bundled up so he could see who she was. Maybe then he could figure out why the mention of his name seemed to agitate her. Of course, he was wearing just as much winter gear as she was. “Yes, ma’am, although I wouldn’t go so far as to use those adjectives. I wanted to see if you would be interested in …”

His words dropped off as the shotgun rose again. “Aw, hell,” she lamented. “I thought it looked kinda like you under all those layers, but I thought, why would Wade Mitchell be in Cornwall making my life hell again after all this time?”

Wade’s eyes widened behind his dark sunglasses. “I have no intention of making your life hell, Miss Sullivan.”

“Get off my land.”

“I’m sorry, have I done something to you?” He scanned his brain. Had he dated a Sullivan? Beaten up her brother? He had no memory of what he could’ve done to piss this woman off so badly.

The woman stomped across the snow, closing the gap between them with the gun still pointed directly at him. She pulled off her sunglasses to study him more closely, revealing a lovely heart-shaped face and pale eyes. Her skin was creamy, the perfect backdrop to the fiery strands of hair framing her face. When her blue eyes met his, he noticed a challenge there, as though she was daring him not to remember her.

Fortunately, Wade had an excellent memory. One good enough to know that he was in trouble. The fiery redhead glaring at him was a hard woman to forget. He’d certainly tried over the years, but from time to time, she’d slipped into his subconscious and haunted his dreams with her piercing, ice-blue gaze. A gaze that reflected the hurt of betrayal that he couldn’t understand.

Property owner V. A. Sullivan was none other than Victoria Sullivan: green architect, eco-warrior and the employee he’d fired from his company seven years ago.

His stomach instantly sank. Of all the people who could’ve bought this property, it had to be her. Victoria Sullivan. The first person he’d ever fired from his company. It had pained him at the time, but he’d really had no choice. He had a strict policy on ethics violations. She hadn’t taken the news well. And judging by her stiff posture and tightly gripped firearm, she was still upset about it.

“Victoria!” he said with a wide smile, trying to sound pleasantly surprised to see her after all this time. “I had no idea you were living out here now.”

“Miss Sullivan,” she corrected.

Wade nodded. “Of course. Could you please drop the gun? I’m unarmed.”

“You won’t be when the cops come.” Her words were as icy cold as the snow, but eventually the gun disengaged and dropped to her side.

She pushed past him to the front door of the Airstream, pulling it open and climbing the stairs. “What do you want, Mr. Mitchell?”

As she hung at the top of the steps, looking back at him, Wade realized he needed to change his tactic, and fast. His original plan had been to tell the owner that he wanted the property for one of his development projects. If he told her that, she’d refuse him just to ruin his plans.

He’d have to appeal to a different side of her. That is, if he could explain himself before she started shooting.

“Miss Sullivan, I’d like to buy back this property from you.”

Tori hung on the steps, the rage slowly uncoiling in her belly. This man was determined to ruin everything she held dear. He had taken away her reputation and very nearly her career. His turning on her suddenly had also damaged her ability to trust men. Out of the blue, he’d accused her of terrible things and tossed her out. She’d lost her first real apartment after he fired her.

And now that she was trying to settle down and establish herself again, he wanted to destroy her plans for her dream home. She just knew it. Her jaw set firmly, she made her decision before he even asked the question. If he were on fire, she wouldn’t bother to spit on him.

“It’s not for sale.” She slipped inside and let the door slam behind her.

She was pulling off her coat, about to toss it onto the foldout bed, when she heard the door of the trailer open behind her. Tori spun on her heel and found the bastard standing in her tiny kitchen. He’d slipped out of his winter coat and tugged off his hat as he entered. He stood there now in a pair of dress pants and a plaid button-down shirt. The hunter-green of the top made his own green eyes seem even darker and more intriguing than she remembered. Because of the stocking cap he’d worn, his short, dark brown hair was messier than she’d ever seen it.

Without his slick suits and perfect hair, he looked nothing like the real-estate giant who had ruled over his company from the top floor. But he still had a commanding presence. She’d forgotten how tall he was: at least six foot two, with a powerful build. The large man seemed to take up all the space in her trailer, which had always had the perfect amount of room for her. It was as though he’d sucked up all the air, making her oddly warm and her camper uncomfortably small.

And she hated that about him.

Without hesitating, she picked up her shotgun again. Truthfully, it was loaded with shells full of recycled rubber pellets. She carried it with her to the compost bin in case she needed to scare off any foraging critters. She’d caught a black bear in the bin last week. The rubber pellets would send animals scurrying without seriously hurting them. Hopefully it would do the same with Wade Mitchell.

“Do you mind stepping back outside? I spent a lot of money to renovate this trailer and I’m not going to ruin it by shooting you in here.”

Wade had only a momentary flash of alarm in his eyes before he smiled at her in a way that made her cheeks flush and her knees weaken. She remembered feeling that way whenever he would walk down the hallway past her cubicle and greet her with “good morning.” She’d been fresh out of college and in awe of the two young mavericks with their up-and-coming real-estate development company. Alex Stanton was the golden playboy, but she was instantly drawn to the darker, more serious Wade. Then and now, his wide grin and strong, aristocratic features usually got him his way.

If she wasn’t careful, she might fall prey to them again. She knew better than to trust a guy like him.

“Miss Sullivan, can we please talk about this without you constantly threatening to shoot me?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Tori kept the gun in one hand while she pulled off her hat and scarf with the other. She was burning up, and it had nothing to do with her new propane heating system. It was Wade and her overheated and long-ignored libido. She hated that the man who’d betrayed and fired her could still send her pulse racing after all this time. “And it’s rude to come inside uninvited, so you deserve to be shot.”

“I apologize,” he said, laying his coat across the bench seat of her dining table. “But it is imperative that I discuss this with you today.”

Oh, she was sure it was. No doubt he had bought the forty-acre property beside her and wanted her additional ten to add to whatever ridiculous project he was developing out here. There might be an army of backhoes and land movers over the horizon just waiting for her to sign off so they could start their work. But she wasn’t giving up this land. This purchase had been years in the making. Her genealogy research had been what lured her up here, but from the first time she’d set foot in the area, she knew this was where she wanted to build her home.

Finding out the Edens were selling some property had been the chance of a lifetime. The lot was perfect. It sloped down, slightly, but would allow her to design a stilted, multistory home that had a living room with a wide vista of windows overlooking the valley below. Being surrounded by two hundred acres of tree farm on two sides guaranteed she wouldn’t have a strip mall out her back door anytime soon.

She had a couple months in between projects to start designing and building her house. It was the perfect opportunity just when she had the time and money to jump on it. And he couldn’t have it.

“I know that you’re used to getting your way, Mr. Mitchell, but I’m afraid it isn’t going to happen this time.”

On cue, her electric teapot began to chirp on the counter and spit out steam. She’d turned it on before she’d stepped out to put some trash in her compost bin, and now it was ready for her to extend some unintended hospitality. When she turned to look at Wade again, he had seated himself at her dining-table booth, a look of smug expectation in his eyes.

With a sigh, she set down the shotgun. It was hard to make tea when you were holding a heavy, loaded firearm.

“May I ask how much you paid for the land?”

“You may not, although I’m sure it’s public record somewhere if you take the time to have one of the corporate minions you haven’t fired look for it.” She pulled out two teacups from her bamboo plywood cabinet above the sink. She shook her loose leaf tea into two infusers, put them in the cups and poured the hot water over them.

“My guess would be about a hundred and twenty-five thousand. There’re no utilities run out here yet.”

Tori refused to look at him. Of course the real estate guy could nail the price within a few thousand dollars. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that I’ll offer you double what you paid for it.”

At that, Tori fumbled the jar of organic honey and sent it crashing to the Marmoleum floor. Fortunately, it didn’t shatter. She quickly crouched down to grab it, but he had reached out for it as well and beat her to it. He held out the jar to her. Tori looked down at him, only inches away, and felt a familiar and unwelcome tingle deep in her belly. When she took the jar from his hand, her fingers brushed his and the tingle turned into a surge right to her core.

Jerking upright as though she’d been burned by his touch, she quickly recovered and removed the infusers, then added a dollop of the honey to each cup. She plunked his tea down in front of him and took a seat on the opposite side of the table.

“That’s ridiculous.” She said the words knowing she meant both her reaction to him and his offer for her land. Tori knew better than to let herself fall for Wade’s good looks or his seemingly good offer.

“Maybe. But that’s what I’m offering.”

“You’re hiding something,” she accused. “You’re the guy who built your business buying cheap buildings and flipping them for a fortune. No way you’d pay one penny more than is necessary to turn a profit on whatever project you’re wanting to build out here.”

Wade turned to look her in the eye. A lock of brown hair had fallen into his face, giving him a boyish charm she had to steel her resolve against. “I’m not building anything out here. This isn’t about money.”

Tori scoffed. “You don’t get to be a millionaire before you’re thirty unless you’re born into money or driven by it. Either way, everything is about money.”

Wade watched her. He took a sip of his tea before he answered. “This is about family. That’s more important to me than even money. This property belonged to my parents. They sold it without telling me or my other siblings. We never would’ve let them do that if we’d known. They worked too hard their whole lives for this land. We grew up here. Our childhood was here. If we’d known they were having financial problems, I would’ve taken care of things before they resorted to this.”

Tori felt herself being sucked in by his story. The expression on his handsome face was one of sincere concern. The words sounded so convincing. But this was the same man who had praised her potential and work ethic, then fired her the next day. Ryan had also seemed sincere, and nearly every word out of his mouth over the past two years had been a lie.

She had been raised with a naive spirit by hippies who wanted only to experience life and culture. They didn’t have a malicious bone in their bodies and never thought other people did, either.

Life had taught Tori differently. Wade had taught her differently. He had heard her pleas of innocence and turned his back on them. He hadn’t believed her. So why should she believe him now?

The people who had sold her this land—Molly and Ken Eden—were a very sweet older couple. No way they’d spawned a son like Mitchell. They didn’t even have the same last name. It wasn’t even a well-planned lie. She wanted to be insulted by his lack of faith in her ability to see through his crap. Did he think she would just melt into a puddle at his feet the minute he knocked on the door and flashed those deep green eyes at her? Or started waving cash?

She didn’t need Wade’s money. She’d paid cash for this property. She was one of the most highly sought after green architects in America. She’d traveled thousands of miles in this Airstream to build environmentally friendly buildings, homes and businesses. Tori had several large and successful projects in Seattle, Santa Fe and San Francisco. She was wrapping up one in Philadelphia just after the first of the year. She did well enough that she could laugh at his offer. But it couldn’t hurt to push him and see how far he was willing to take this.

“What if I said I would sell it back to you for half a million?” There was no way the land was worth that much unless there was oil, gold or diamonds hidden beneath her feet. She doubted it, though. She’d never heard of Wade Mitchell being interested in any of those things. The only thing about land he cared for was what he could build on top of it.

Wade didn’t even flinch. “I would get out my checkbook and sign on the dotted line so you could find an even better piece of land and everyone would be happy. Let me assure you that nothing is more important than preserving my family and my history.”

Wow. He was certainly desperate for this land. She almost felt bad for him. Any other person might have immediately given in and made his day. Four times the value was a great offer. A crazy offer. One that she was probably crazy to turn down. Even with her success, half a million was quite a lump of cash. Tori could certainly do a lot with it: buy new land, build her dream house without a mortgage attached to it, get a new hybrid pickup truck. She had to admit, if it were any other person sitting across the table from her, she’d probably take the money and tow her trailer off into the sunset.

But it wasn’t any other person. It was Wade Mitchell. And she wasn’t about to sell him this land. Not for any price. Just because it was worth it to watch him squirm. This would be as close to payback as she would ever get. It was his bad luck that he wanted her land.

“You’re really quite good,” she said, nodding and watching her tea instead of his handsome face. She wouldn’t let herself get pulled in and swayed by his mesmerizing eyes and fabricated sob story. She’d already caught herself being a sucker once this year, and that was enough. Maybe if he came around in a few weeks, she’d let him be her dumb mistake of the New Year. “Did you practice that speech long or was that off the cuff?”

Wade stiffened, pushing the half-empty cup of tea aside and shelving the charm. “Is all this animosity over your termination years ago?”

Now it was Tori’s turn to stiffen in her chair. He made her seem petty for holding that over him all these years later. “Absolutely. I don’t take affronts to my reputation lightly.”

“You weren’t worried about your reputation when you slept with one of our suppliers and put my company in jeopardy.”

“I didn’t sleep with anybody. I told you then that I didn’t do any of the things you accused me of. Nothing has changed. Just because you didn’t believe me doesn’t mean I wasn’t telling the truth.”

“They were serious charges, and I needed to deal with them as such. I did what I had to do.”

“And I’m doing what I have to do. I’m keeping this land. It’s mine. Whether or not I like you or resent what you did is irrelevant.”

“This isn’t about me or you and your damaged pride. This is about Ken and Molly Eden and everything they worked for. I want to give them back what’s rightfully theirs.”

Tori straightened and shot him as lethal a gaze as she could manage. “You mean, mine. I signed those papers at the lawyer’s office two months ago. I didn’t hold a gun to their heads and make them sell me this land.”

“Wouldn’t have surprised me if you did,” he said bitterly, glancing over at the shotgun sitting on the counter.

“They sold it all on their own. I paid them full asking price and covered all my own closing expenses, so it’s not like I cheated them, either. I don’t know whether you’re their son or not, Mr. Mitchell, but let me just tell you that if you are their son, you’re a crappy one. They told me about Ken’s heart attack and all their medical expenses. Where have you been? In Manhattan? Worrying about making money?”

“You think I don’t know that?” he challenged. Wade’s eyes flashed with a touch of a temper she’d seen years before. “I’m not proud of it, but I can fix it.”

Tori stood up from her seat. “You’re just going to have to find another way to soothe your conscience. Send them on a cruise or something, because you aren’t going to browbeat me into selling this land. And that’s final. Please leave.”

Wade stood, bringing his head a hairbreadth away from scraping the top of her camper. He took a step toward her, and his body loomed large and intimidating in such close proximity.

Tori couldn’t help the surge of awareness that ran through her body as he came near. Apparently it was far easier to despise him from a distance. It had been a long time since she’d been in the same room as Wade, and she’d certainly never been this close to him, but her body remembered him. With him inches away, looking down at her with a focused, penetrating intensity, her spine wanted to turn to jelly. His warm scent, a familiar mix of spicy cologne and salty skin, swirled around her with every breath she drew into her lungs.

She finally took a step back, pressing herself against the kitchen counter. She didn’t like being this close to Wade. It messed with her focus, and that just made her even more irritated. Tori couldn’t let him use his size or sexuality to intimidate her.

“This isn’t over,” he said, pinning her with his dark green eyes before grabbing his coat and walking out into the cold.

Two

Wade remembered Victoria Sullivan as being smart and beautiful. Apparently she was also the most infuriating and stubborn woman he’d ever encountered.

Wade stomped back to his four-wheeler and stood there a moment, letting the cold sink in and douse the aggravating mix of anger and attraction surging through his veins. When he was back in control, he shrugged into his coat, jumped on the ATV and peeled out of her yard in a doughnut as he used to do as a teenager. The back tires sent a sheet of snow flying against the side of her trailer. It was juvenile, but she seemed to bring out the worst in him.

He was fuming as he plowed through the snow. It should be illegal for a woman that gorgeous to have a mouth that irritating. Honestly, once she’d peeled out of her jacket and revealed a snug pair of jeans and a fitted, long-sleeved T-shirt, he’d almost forgotten why he was there. It wasn’t until she picked up her shotgun again that he realized he’d followed her inside without her permission.

Victoria had been one of his best and brightest architects. He’d hired her straight out of college when the company he and Alex had started was still small and spending more than it earned. She’d contributed quite a bit to making their first few big projects a success. He’d even considered asking her out to dinner. But then his assistant had come to him with concerns about seeing Victoria at a restaurant looking a little too cozy with one of their potential suppliers. She had been quite vocal about giving the man an upcoming contract, and the implication was clear. He fired her on the spot. Part of him regretted that. And not just because she had knockout curves, flawless skin and long, fiery red hair that made him warm under the collar.

He had wanted to believe her when she said she didn’t do it. The thought of her with another man nearly made him crazy. But the logical part of his brain was infuriated by her audacious attempt to influence corporate contracts like that. Sleeping with a potential contractor was just as bad as taking bribes from one. Both compromised a person’s objectivity and put the ethics of his company in question.

He would not have it, so he terminated her. He never dreamed the decision would come back to haunt him.

If she were any other woman, he would’ve asked her to dinner to talk over his offer and kissed her to keep the inflammatory words from flying out of her mouth. Her temper, as spicy as her hair, was a massive turn-on. He had a weakness for redheads.

But she wasn’t another woman. She was holding on to seven years of bitterness along with the key to something more important to him than anything else. Protecting his family was his number one priority. Toying with Victoria like a cat with a mouse could cost him dearly. He needed her to sell him this land. He couldn’t fail. As much as he’d like to resolve their differences between the sheets, it wasn’t the answer in this situation. He doubted it would sway her, and she’d probably shoot him if he tried to kiss her.

“Arrogant and pigheaded,” Wade grumbled, turning to steer the four-wheeler down the center aisle of trees toward the entrance. She thought she knew so much. Well, she forgot rich, powerful, ruthless and determined Wade Mitchell came in the same package. He would secure that land and protect his family one way or another.

Wade came to an abrupt stop as an old pickup truck, draped in Christmas lights and garland, pulled in front of him. Piled into the trailer it towed was a crowd of bundled-up people sitting on bales of hay and singing Christmas carols. The driver, Owen, threw a hand up at Wade, then continued back toward the house.

Hayrides, Santa visits, sugar cookies and hot chocolate. Picking out a tree at the Garden of Eden wasn’t just a shopping trip. It was an experience. On the weekends in December, the farm was a madhouse. And it had to be. A good portion of their income came from just this one month. Sure, they did other things throughout the year, but Christmas tree farms depended on a good Christmas to stay afloat.

And lately, it hadn’t been enough.

Wade blamed himself for that. When the boys grew up and moved away, the Edens had to hire in help. Owen had always worked on the farm, but as each year went by, more staff was added and their expenses went up. Throw in a mountain of hospital bills and competition from increasingly more realistic fake trees, and the Edens were lucky they’d survived this long.

Wade followed the truck to the house and then veered off to park the ATV back under the awning where they kept it. The farm would be closing soon, so he skipped the house and headed around to the tree-processing area. Heart attack be damned, he found his dad out there with a couple of teenage boys. They were leveling, drilling, shaking and net-bagging all the trees selected by the last round of customers.

As though he’d never left, Wade grabbed a tree and put it on the shaker to remove any loose needles. When it was done, Ken laid the tree out to drill. They carried special stands in the gift shop that ensured a perfectly straight tree.

Wade held it still while Ken drilled.

“You haven’t lost your touch, kid. Need a job?”

Wade smiled. “I could work for about a week. Then I’ve got to get back to town.”

“That’s fine, fine. We’ll be closed by then, anyway.” Ken lifted the tree and gave it to one of the boys to run through the netter. When he turned back, he gave Wade a big welcome hug. “Good to see you, son.”

“Good to see you, too, Dad. Is that the last of the trees for tonight?”

“Yep. With perfect timing, you’ve shown up just when all the hard work is finished. Come help me haul these trees out to the parking lot and we’ll go see your mother.”

Wade grasped a tree in each hand and followed his father through the snow to the parking lot where the last few cars waited for their trees. He watched his father carefully for signs of ill health as he hauled around the trees and helped families tie them into trunks and onto roofs. The man wasn’t quite sixty yet and had always appeared to be at the peak of health. His brown hair was mostly gray now, but his blue eyes were still bright and alert, and he didn’t hesitate in his physical work. Ken had always been a lean man, but a strong man. If nothing else, he looked a little leaner than usual.

“There’s nothing wrong with me, so quit looking for it.” Ken snatched the last tree from Wade and hauled it down to the pickup truck waiting for it.

Wade followed him, then stood quietly until the truck pulled away. “I wasn’t looking for anything.”

“Liar. Everyone has been doing it since your mother told Julianne about that damned attack I had. It was no big deal. I’m fine. They gave me a pill to take. End of story. Don’t be sitting around waiting for me to drop dead so you can inherit this place.”

Both men chuckled, knowing Wade could buy and sell the farm ten times over and had no interest in getting his claws on any inheritance. “You’re looking good to me, Dad.”

“Yeah.” He slapped Wade on the back and started walking toward the gift shop. “Most days I feel okay. I’m slowing down a little. Feeling my age. But that’s just reality. The attack threw me for a loop—just came out of the blue. But between the pills and your mother’s dogged determination to feed me oatmeal and vegetables, I should be fine. What are you doing up here so early, Wade? You kids don’t usually show up until Christmas Eve.”

“I had some time in my schedule, so I thought I’d spend it with you guys. Help out. I know I don’t visit enough.”

“Well, that’s a nice lie. Be sure to tell your mother that. She’ll eat it up. All of you boys are in a panic since you found out we sold that land.”

“I wouldn’t call it a panic.”

“Wouldn’t you, now? Four out of the five of you kids have been here in the past month, just randomly checking in. I’m sure Xander would’ve come, too, if congress wasn’t in session fighting over the stupid budget.”

Wade shrugged. “Well, what do you expect, Dad? You kept your heart attack a secret. You’re having financial trouble and you don’t tell any of us. You know we all make good money. There was no need to start selling off the farm.”

“I didn’t sell off the farm. I sold off some useless rocks and dirt that were costing more money than they earned. And yes, you make a good living. I haven’t made a good living in quite a few years. One doesn’t make up for the other.”

“Dad—”

Ken stopped in front of the gift shop, his hand on the doorknob. “I don’t want any of your money, Wade. I don’t want a dime from any of you kids. The unexpected medical bills just sucked up our savings. The past few years had been lean and we’d cut back on things, including our insurance, to weather the rough patch. Selling off the extra land let us pay off all the bills, buy a new insurance plan and stick some money away. Less land means less taxes and less for me to worry about. Everything will be just fine.”

He pushed open the door to the gift store, ending the conversation. Wade had no choice but to let the subject drop and follow him in. They were instantly bombarded with lights and sounds straight from Santa’s workshop. Jingling bells chimed from the door; Christmas music played from overhead speakers. A television in the back was showing holiday cartoons on a constant loop near the area where children could write letters to Santa and play with toys while Mommy shopped and Daddy loaded the tree.

Multicolored lights draped from the ceiling. The scent of pine and mulling spices permeated the room. The fireplace crackled on one wall, inviting customers to sit in rocking chairs and drink the hot chocolate Molly provided free.

“Wade!” The tiny and pleasantly plump woman behind the counter came rushing out to wrap her arms around her oldest boy.

He leaned down to hug her as he’d always had to do, accepting the fussing as she straightened his hair and inspected him for signs of stress or fatigue. She always accused him of working too much. She was probably right, but he’d learned his work ethic from them. “Hey, Mama.”

“What a surprise to have you here so soon. Is this just a visit or are you here for the holiday?”

“For the duration.”

“That’s wonderful,” she said, her eyes twinkling with happiness and Christmas lights. “But wait.” She paused. “I thought Heath told me you were in Jamaica this week.”

“Plans changed. I’m here instead.”

“He’s checking up on us,” Ken called from the counter where he was pouring himself a cup of cider.

“I don’t care,” she called back. “I’ll take him however I can get him.” Molly hugged him again, then frowned at her son. “I don’t have anything prepared for dinner,” she said, aghast at the idea. “I wish I’d known you were coming. I was just going to feed your father a sandwich.”

“Whole wheat, fat-free turkey, no mayo, no flavor,” Ken grumbled.

“Don’t worry about feeding me, Mama. I was going to run into Cornwall to meet a couple of the guys at the Wet Hen and grab a few things from the store. I’ll get something to eat at the diner when I’m done.”

“All right. But I’m going to the store first thing in the morning, and I’ll get stocked up on everything I need to feed a household of boys for the holiday!”

Wade smiled. His mother looked absolutely giddy at the idea of slaving over a stove for five hungry men. He recalled times from his youth when he and the other boys were hitting growth spurts all at once. They couldn’t get enough food into their stomachs. Hopefully now they would be easier to take care of.

“Why don’t you just give me a list and I’ll pick it up while I’m out.”

“We don’t need your money,” Ken called from the rocking chair by the fire, though he didn’t turn to face them.

Molly frowned at her husband, and Wade could see she was torn. They did need the money, but Ken was being stubborn. “That would be very nice of you, Wade. I’ll write up a few things.” She returned to the counter and made out a short list. “This should get us through a few days. I’ll go into town for a fresh turkey on Monday morning.”

“Okay,” he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be back soon. Maybe I’ll bring home one of those coconut cream pies from Daisy’s.”

“That would be lovely. Drive safely in the snow.”

Wade stepped through the jingling door and headed out into the newly darkened night in search of pie, a dozen eggs, a sack of potatoes and some information on Victoria Sullivan.

When Tori got into her truck, she had every intention of going to Daisy’s to get something to eat. Maybe swing by the store for some quick and easy-to-prepare food to get her through the holidays when the diner was closed. And yet before she could help herself, her truck pulled into the parking lot of the Wet Hen, the local bar.

“Let’s face it,” she lamented to her dashboard. “I need a drink.”

Just one. Just enough to take the edge off the nerves Wade had agitated. And if it helped suppress the attraction that was buzzing through her veins, all the better.

Tori slid from the cab of her truck, slammed the heavy door behind her and slipped through the door of the Wet Hen. The sign outside claimed the bar had been in business since 1897. Truthfully, it looked as if it had. A renovation wouldn’t hurt, but she supposed that was part of its charm. The bar was dark, with old, worn wood on the walls, the floors and the tables. The photos on the walls of various local heroes and the sports memorabilia from the high school seemed to be there more to camouflage cracks in the plaster than anything else. The amber lights did little to illuminate the place, but she supposed a bright light would not only ruin the atmosphere but force the local fire department to condemn it.

The place was pretty quiet for six on a Friday. She imagined business would pick up later unless people were tied up in last-minute holiday activities. She made her way to the empty bar and pulled up a stool. It was from her perch that she heard the laughter of a group of men in the back corner. When she turned, Tori quickly amended her plans. She needed two drinks. Especially with that cocky bastard watching her from the back of the bar.

What was Wade doing here? It was a small town, but wasn’t there somewhere else he should be? At home with his all-important family, perhaps? But no, he was throwing back a couple with an odd assortment of old and young men from around town. She recognized her lawyer, Randy Miller, and the old bald sheriff from one of the local television advertisements about the dangers of holiday drinking and driving. There were a couple others there she didn’t recognize.

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.

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