The Rebel - Joanne Rock

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piece was flawless, the facets catching the light from the bathroom sconces.

      Until recently, she hadn’t really questioned the long engagement, since they were both busy building their careers—he with his family’s wealth management firm and she with Salazar Media. They’d been childhood friends; their families had both built their fortunes in the financial world and had always been close because of it. Eliot had also made her feel like less of an outsider after the scandal of her birth. Lily’s single mother had refused to tell her parents who the father was and ultimately had given up responsibility for her child altogether, leaving Lily with her grandparents when she was four years old. As a result, Lily had never really felt like she belonged in the opulent Newport world she grew up in.

      Later, she and Eliot were high school sweethearts. When he’d gone to college, she’d assumed they’d both move on. But she’d been disappointed by the drunken frat boy atmosphere even at her high-tier school, so when Eliot had proposed, she’d jumped at the chance, knowing they would make a good team. Not necessarily a romance to set the world on fire, but a solid partnership grown in mutual understanding.

      They’d talked about uniting their families’ respective businesses with a merger once they wed. She’d always taken strength from their friendship, certain it would grow into the kind of love her grandparents shared. But right now, with the memories of Marcus’s eyes on her stirring an unexpected heat, Lily wondered why she’d never felt that kind of pull with Eliot.

      Drying her hands, she reached alongside the tub to retrieve her cell phone. Once she called her fiancé, she would put the incident with Marcus out of her mind. Hearing Eliot’s voice would remind her why they were right together—even if they still hadn’t set a date for the wedding.

      Lily punched the heart icon on her phone—the image she’d tagged him with in her contacts—but the call went straight to voice mail. Somehow, hearing his prerecorded message didn’t provide the same reassurance as speaking to him personally. If anything, it only served to remind her of how often she checked in without getting ahold of him. Was that normal for a couple in love?

      After leaving him a message, she ended the call and tried to put the worries out of her mind, settling the phone on the pile of towels near the tub. Whatever had happened with Marcus was surely a fluke. A fleeting feminine interest she wouldn’t dream of acting on.

      Her mother had been the kind of woman who could be tempted into relationships based on physical attraction, a trait that had made Maggie Carrington choose a lover over her own daughter. Lily knew better than to count on something as temporary as lust. Chemistry was a smoke screen that only confused people, complicating the real factors that needed to be considered for a long-lasting relationship. Like shared values and goals. Mutual respect and affection.

      Satisfied she could salvage this trip and put that moment with Marcus behind her, Lily stepped out of the tub and dried herself with one of the fluffy bath sheets, her body steaming with the scent of roses. When Marcus texted her with an agenda, she would be ready to work. Clearly, he wanted to keep things professional and focused on business as much as she did.

      No doubt he would keep those long, sizzling looks to himself for the remainder of their time together in Montana. And if a tiny piece of her still craved the way that moment had made her belly flip, she would simply channel it where it belonged—into her relationship with her fiancé.

      Professional armor in place the next day, Lily strode through the foyer of the main lodge on her way to meet with Marcus. The building where she was staying was strangely quiet since the property wasn’t open for a retreat this week. She was the only guest that she was aware of, yet there must be maids at work, since she’d had turndown service the night before when she went out for an evening walk in the moonlight. She’d also discovered on her walk that the stables were staffed and she was welcome to ride anytime.

      She was curious to see some of the ranching operation itself. The lodge and welcome center looked like a luxe mountain resort, but she’d read up on Mesa Falls Ranch and knew they’d been successful raising cattle and sheep.

      She stepped into the great room, where the tile floors were softened with colorful Aztec rugs, the reds and burnt oranges repeated in the throw pillows and framed prints on the natural log walls. A small bar held top-shelf liquors under the watchful eye of a stuffed American bison standing near the pool table. Bar stools padded in black-and-white cowhide were all empty save for the one where Marcus was seated.

      She allowed her eyes to roam over him for a moment before he saw her. His dark hair was a shade deeper brown than his older brother’s, and he wore it longer, too. Dressed in a blue button-down, he typed fast on his tablet keyboard, a pair of earbuds tuning out the world while he worked. When he turned his brown eyes toward her, she steeled herself for whatever it was that had happened between them yesterday. But the thing that had sparked last time was shuttered now.

      Tapping off his screen, Marcus withdrew the earbuds and shoved them in the pocket of his suit jacket resting on the back of the bar stool.

      “I didn’t expect you so soon.” He stood and gestured to the bar.

      “I’m here to work,” she reminded him, stopping next to a wooden game table and keeping her distance.

      “Here to work, or here to gather information for Devon?”

      “Any information I gather would benefit you both, since I work for Salazar Media and not exclusively for your brother.” She didn’t enjoy playing word games with him, but she planned to defend herself and her position. Her job was too important to her to get on the wrong side of a man who still owned half of the company.

      “Right.” He acknowledged her point with a nod. “But you got your start in the business by being Devon’s right hand. I don’t think that instinct to look out for him is just going to disappear.”

      Impatience and indignation squared her shoulders.

      “Do you want to work or question my motives?” She set her laptop bag on the game table, unwilling to be cowed. “Just so I’m clear.”

      Marcus took a step closer. “I prefer to work, but I don’t think I can relax enough to do that until I understand why Devon would send you to a meeting slated to determine future control of the company.”

      His nearness brought trouble with it. She could see the bristled shadow along his jaw. Read the mistrust in his dark eyes. Feel a charge in the air that made her skin tighten. Lily drew a deep breath to set him straight, but she caught the scent of his aftershave, spicy and male.

      “Devon wants to be here himself. You know that.” She scavenged for the right words that would make things go back to the way they used to be between them. “But after he found out his passport had been stolen, he asked me to be on-site in case you need help closing the deal with Mesa Falls.”

      Her position allowed her to oversee the day-to-day operations in New York but gave her the flexibility to work directly with clients, as well. She’d learned two weeks ago that Marcus had approached Mesa Falls Ranch as a potential client, because he’d requested proposal material from her office. She’d researched the place immediately, liking to stay up-to-date on all their current and potential accounts. So she’d jumped at the chance to visit the ranch herself and escape her grandparents’ growing pressure to set a wedding date.

      His eyebrows shot up. “In case I—” he tapped his chest “—need help sealing the deal? I got confirmation we won the account before you even arrived on the property.”

      She suppressed a sigh of frustration. Men and their egos. She hesitated, unsure how much to share and wary of stepping on his toes again. “Devon didn’t know the deal was sealed at the time he called me. And quite honestly, he was afraid you would be on the first plane back to Los Angeles unless he showed you some kind of good-faith effort.”

      “You’re the good-faith effort?” His voice hummed along her senses, suggesting things at odds with

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