Fool's Gold Collection Volume 3. Susan Mallery

      “You should embrace townies,” Rafe told her. “They buy your cheese.” He leaned back against the railing. “What markets are you in?”

      She blinked at the question. “You mean like, what are the names of the stores that sell my cheese?”

      The smile returned. “No. What market segments do you find most profitable? Organic, local, wine stores?”

      “Oh.” She folded her hands together on top of her thighs. The faint tingling had faded, leaving her feeling uneasy and inadequate. “I sell in town. To places I can deliver to. During the festivals, I usually set up a booth.”

      His expression remained expectant, as if he thought she was saving the best for last.

      “That’s pretty much it.”

      “How are you going to make a living doing that? You need to expand your market. Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s are obvious, but what about smaller organic and specialty chains? You’re within a few hours of San Francisco, and not that much farther from L.A. Both could be huge markets for you. Plenty of upscale stores, with shoppers interested in buying local and organic. You could try the food shows. Trade shows. Hell, send samples to Rachael Ray. What about your sales reps? What do they say?”

      “You’re the only one out here with staff. I can’t afford to pay someone to sell my cheese.”

      “It’s the only way you’re going to take things to the next level. Otherwise, you’ll be scrambling to pay the bills forever. One decent rep could pay for him- or herself in three months. You could put the rest of your profits back into the business. There are dozens of markets. Of course, that assumes you have extra cheese to sell.”

      “I do.”

      “Then—”

      He stopped talking suddenly, as if aware of what he was doing. Helping the enemy. Because if she became successful, she could pay back his mother and win the case.

      “All good ideas,” she admitted. “I’ll think about them.” Because they were smart business moves. Not that he had to worry, because even if she started right now, she couldn’t have them up and running in time. It wasn’t as if the judge was going to give her six or eight months.

      “Heidi, I—” He stopped and shook his head.

      She waited.

      She thought he would tell her she couldn’t use his ideas, or that even if her business grew to be the size of Kraft foods, he would still win, or that she was completely out of her league with him. Instead, he muttered something she couldn’t quite hear, then leaned forward, grabbed her by her upper arms and kissed her.

      She was so startled, she couldn’t react, really couldn’t even feel what was happening. Her brain couldn’t wrap itself around the action. Kissing her? Rafe? Why?

      But instead of trying to answer the question, she became aware of the warmth—no, the heat—of his lips on hers. Of how they seemed to fit together. His kiss was firm—he was obviously in charge. Yet there was an unexpected gentleness. He offered rather than took and, as crazy as it sounded, she sensed he wanted her to yield. As if her giving in, her surrender, was important.

      Somewhere during the first flash of confusion, she closed her eyes. In the darkness, she felt his mouth moving against her. Instinctively, she leaned toward him, raising her arms to his shoulders. His shirt was smooth, his muscles hard. His hands dropped to her waist. She felt the pressure of each individual finger.

      Against her mouth, the kiss lingered; heat grew. She told herself to pull back, that Rafe was dangerous to her on more levels than she could count. That, in any circumstance, he played to win, and she rarely played at all. Yet she couldn’t seem to get the message to her body. Maybe because being close to him felt so good. She gave in to the inevitable and tilted her head, then parted her lips.

      He swept inside, claiming her with a deep kiss that stirred long-dormant needs. Her blood moved more quickly. Her breasts began to ache and between her thighs a telltale throbbing pulsed in time with her heartbeat.

      As his tongue danced with hers, he moved his hands up and down her back. His touch was part caress, part promise. She got lost in the sensations, wanted him to touch other places, to cup her breasts and maybe slip lower.

      He broke the kiss, then pressed his lips against her jaw. From there, he trailed his way to her neck, then her collarbone. Lips teased, teeth scraped, each action making her shiver and ache and need. Wanting grew, until she was ready to grab his hands and place them where she wanted them most. Right at this second, being really stupid sounded like the best plan ever.

      She’d barely moved her arms to grab his wrists when his phone rang. She heard the shrill sound, felt the vibration in his shirt pocket and jumped back. Her eyes flew open.

      Rafe pulled out the phone. She saw his thumb hit the ignore button, but not before she saw the name on the screen.

      Nina.

      “Girlfriend?” she asked into the silence that followed.

      As usual, Rafe’s expression was unreadable, his dark gaze steady as he looked at her.

      “No.”

      She waited. Whoever the woman was, she was important enough to be in Rafe’s contact list. While it was too late for Heidi to take back the kiss, it wasn’t too late to find out how dumb she’d been.

      “My matchmaker.”

      She wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than a girlfriend. Better, she decided. He wasn’t involved. He was looking to get into a relationship, but not with anyone like her, of course. Which was fine. She wasn’t interested in him, either. Despite the evidence to the contrary.

      She managed to stand and step back onto the porch. She crossed to the screen door and opened it.

      “You should call her back,” she said, pleased her voice was so calm. “It might be important.”

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      RAFE HEARD HEIDI HEADING DOWN the stairs. He didn’t have to glance at the clock to know it was still early. The pale light at the edge of the curtains warned him that most people were still sound asleep. He waited until he heard the back door close, then got up and quickly dressed.

      It had been three days since he’d kissed her. Three days of her carefully avoiding him, and his mother watching, as if aware there was a problem. He hadn’t mentioned the kiss to May, and he would bet money Heidi hadn’t said anything to her grandfather, either. But still, May had guessed something had happened. He made it a point to avoid talking about his personal life with his mother, so he had a problem. The only way he could see to fix it was to get things back to normal with Heidi.

      He walked down the stairs, through the living room and kitchen, and out back. Heidi was already in the goat house. As he crossed the yard, he saw three cats scampering in front of him. They slipped through the partially open door, and he followed.

      Heidi was already milking Athena when he arrived. The three cats were sitting, watching her.

      “When did you get cats?” he asked.

      Heidi didn’t look up from the rhythmic movements of her hands. Milk flowed steadily into the gleaming metal bucket.

      “They’re not mine. They show up when I milk. I don’t know how they know.”

      He studied her movements, wondering if he could master the art of goat milking. Not a lot of call for that skill in his world.

      “Can I help?”

      She snorted. “I don’t think so.”

      He counted the goats obviously waiting for their turns. There were only six. “You’re not milking all of them?”

      “Two are