My Secret Fantasies. Joanne Rock

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      HOT WOMEN WERE usually trouble.

      Hot Hollywood women? They ought to come with a skull and crossbones taped to their foreheads. The potential for danger was just too damn high.

      Damien Fraser knew this firsthand, having been born the son of a prominent American director and a flamboyant Italian actress. Their affair had produced three sons neither had time for, and the boys had grown up without much supervision, which meant Damien had tangled with his fair share of grasping Hollywood actresses who’d wanted to date him because of his famous father. But since he’d moved to Sonoma County and taken up horse breeding—a calculated move to distance himself from the Fraser fame—he’d figured his days of dealing with this kind of crap were done.

      “I don’t understand.” Miranda Cortland ran a weary hand through blond curl that went in every direction, her pale blue eyes shadowed with dark circles that didn’t do a thing to diminish her appeal. “I love the place. I’ve got a deposit. You want to make a quick sale, here you go. I’d like to rent out the spot until the official closing, so I can throw in whatever you think is fair for a month’s rent. Or two.”

      She dug deeper in her backpack and emerged with a wallet.

      Damien scratched his forehead, which was smeared with dirt and sweat from his time in the fields. He couldn’t make the pieces add up here. The woman was sunburned. Her car was old and in need of repair. Actually, all her stuff looked like it had seen better days; the hodgepodge collection of goods that he’d spotted inside the SUV appeared secondhand. She seemed down on her luck for a woman who’d just won a reality game show he’d never heard of—Gutsy Girl. That much definitely fit.

      Miranda Cortland showed some serious bravado coming all the way up here to pitch him her idea, when she looked about as far from tearoom elegance as he could imagine. He was pretty sure she had permanent eyeliner tattooed around her lashes. Silver cuffs wrapped around her right earlobe the whole way down.

      “The problem is this.” He cracked open a window to let more air into the place and leaned back against a rough support beam. “I’m building a brand with Fraser Farm. And it’s got to be upscale to support the growth I need in the Thoroughbred market.”

      He needed word of mouth among a small, elite client base.

      “This tearoom will be elegant and charming. A perfect match.” She crossed her arms at her midsection, right where he recalled seeing a silver belly-button ring in the shape of a snake.

      Did she have any idea how much she stood out here? Not just in this part of the state, but on his farmland? In his mind? She was so bright and bold—from her yellow flip-flops with the big daisies between her toes to her lime-green lace camisole—it was like she operated on another frequency altogether.

      “Unfortunately, the kind of crowd your high profile will draw may not reflect the brand I’m developing.”

      “That’s incredibly elitist and also...incorrect.” Her voice remained steady, but he sensed more than heard the strong emotions there.

      Chances were good that Miranda Cortland was here only to get close to his famous family. He’d had that happen before. So if she sounded convincingly disappointed, she probably was. But mostly because she wouldn’t be granted her “in” with a famous Hollywood producer-director. Hell, Damien’s father, Thomas Fraser, ran an independent studio, so he was definitely the kind of connection someone like Miranda might seek out.

      “Fair or not, I have to think about the growth of my small business, and I prefer to have some kind of store or restaurant on site that will cater to the clientele I want to attract.” He’d posted as much in his Craigslist ad.

      When you were starting a business, every dollar counted, so he really wanted to make this sale. Especially since he refused to take a cent from his obnoxiously wealthy family. He just wouldn’t make the sale to Miranda Cortland.

      “Heard СКАЧАТЬ