Southern Gentleman (Charleston Heat 3)

“Julia, it’s a barn.” He glances at Luke. “Meaning no offense. But let’s not forget we’ll be selling grits and organic produce here. This isn’t Harrod’s.”

“No, it’s not. It’s a barn that I’m going to turn into the south’s preeminent farmer’s market and gathering place,” I reply, taking a step forward.

“We,” he corrects. He doesn’t move forward. But he does lean toward me. Close enough for me to see the pink flush creeping its way up his neck. “We are going to do that. Where do you think the money for this work is coming from?”

“If we do the renovation right, we can rent the barn out for events—weddings, rehearsal dinners, concerts. It’s a mess now, but if you had any imagination, you could see the possibilities for so much more.”

I don’t mention that I already have a wedding lined up for the space. Olivia and her fiancé Eli are getting married, and they said they’d love to have the reception here.

Greyson’s eyes flick down, then back up. “I have plenty of imagination.”

Doubt it.

“Why are you so involved all of a sudden?” I say. “You weren’t around for the Holy City Roasters project.”

“Simple. We were juggling six other projects at the time, so I put Ford on Holy City Roasters. I’ll be your point person going forward. I can be hands on when the occasion calls for it.”

“I’m sure you can. Though I doubt it’s as satisfying an experience for those involved as you think it is.”

“It’s what I do for a living.”

“Condescend?”

He smirks. “Satisfy.” I catch a whiff of his aftershave. Smoky. Bergamot, maybe? “I’m very good at it.”

“You know when you pay people to tell you these things, they don’t count, right?”

“As a matter of fact, Julia, most people pay me. Literally. I’ve raised a hundred and seventy-five million dollars from investors this year alone.”

Shit he’s good at this. Sparring. Spiting.

Bragging about how much money he has.

So arrogant.

But damn, that cocky grin he’s wearing is so wicked.

The literature professor in me does appreciate a good villain.

A man with a story.

Warmth pools between my legs when I think about his repeated—and pointed—use of my name. Like he’s practicing it. Getting it just right, so when he snarls Ju-ya as he takes my hair in his fist and slams into me from behind, I come from the gravelly sound alone.

I blink. That’s an explicit little fantasy right there.

I like it. Too much.

I haven’t been laid in—God, has it really been six months now? Maybe that’s why I’m so keyed up all of a sudden. I had my regular hookups on repeat for a while. Once those petered out, though, I wasn’t in the mood to date or see new people. Not after losing what was left of my family.

But now I’m feeling that tingle of interest again. Which is just perfect, considering this guy is my new—if temporary—boss.

Oh. And an asshole. And totally not my type. I usually go for bookish guys. Bohemians. Free spirits like me, preferably with foreign accents and a fondness for poetry.

“Please, y’all.” Luke takes a step forward, holding up his hands. “Please don’t make me call the authorities.”

Greyson blinks. Extinguishing the heat and humor in his eyes as quickly as they appeared.

Replaced by that ice again.

My stomach dips.

He lifts his arm, his sleeve pulling back, and checks the enormous chrome Rolex on his wrist.

“I have another meeting. Y’all have the budget and timetable. Julia, please respond to that email I sent you this morning. My investors are eager for a schematic of the barn’s new layout.”

Without another glance in my direction, he stalks out of the barn. As if he can’t get out of here fast enough.

Talk about hot and cold.

Yeah, there’s definitely a story there. One I’m suddenly curious to know more about.

Luke lets out a low whistle beside me.

“You can put up your duelin’ pistols now.” He cuts me a glance. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. That guy’s just…” Ballsy. Blunt. Intriguing. “A total dick.”

“I don’t disagree with you. But I’ve done my research, and he’s the best of the best. Just promise me this project won’t end with a homicide, okay? I can’t weigh in on preservation versus profit, but I do know murder sure as hell isn’t good for business.”

I smile. Nudge his shoulder with mine. “I promise. Just like I promise to do my best to make your dreams for this place come true.”

“You’re the best of the best, too,” he says. “And if there’s anyone who won’t let a guy like Greyson push her around, it’s you.”

“That’s kind of the best compliment ever. Thank you.”

“Thank you for your help,” he says. “I’ll see you later, Julia.”

“See ya.”

On the drive home, I listen to My Romp With the Rogue.

Callum was not expecting much of his bride.

He certainly wasn’t expecting to find her waiting for him in a transparent chemise, gauzy and fragile and so damn arousing it made his blood roar.