Page 11 of The Distiller's Darling

She’d rather devote all of her time to her clay, but she wasn’t yet a big enough name to not need the additional income. Much as she hated to admit it, putting her degree to use made sense, so when Noah had first asked her to design his labels, she’d taken the time to set up NK Designs as a legitimate business—tax license and all. Her mother would have been shocked, if she’d ever asked about Naomi’s career enough to learn where her money came from.

Naomi settled into the booth and picked up the menu on the table, perusing it absently. She already knew what she was going to order, but she wanted to take a look at the layout to see what changes she’d be making. Absorbed in her mental note-taking, she didn’t pay attention to the other customers. Noah had said he’d make the introductions, so she didn’t look up until she heard his voice.

“There you are.” He loomed over the table. Noah Bradstone was a tall man, and solidly built. His friend was pretty much hidden behind him.

She put on her professional smile. “Hi. Thanks for—” She stopped dead as Noah moved aside, revealing the man who’d been standing in his wake. “Iain?”

The same man she’d had some of the most incredible sex of her life with three months ago was staring back at her, equally surprised. “Naomi?”

She drank in the sight of him, clothed in a simple grey henley and jeans that fit far more perfectly than any pair of pants had a right to. His beard was a little less perfectly trimmed than it had been the night they’d met, and his hair stood up in slightly more spiky patterns. But the blue eyes were the same, the laugh lines crinkling in a welcoming smile.

She forced her eyes away before they could travel appreciatively all the way down his body. She didn’t need to know exactly how well those jeans were cupping the areas she was intimately familiar with. She looked over at Noah, who was smirking. Typical.

“Is this the friend you wanted me to meet? I didn’t know you knew each other.” She managed to keep her tone professional.

“I didn’t realize you did,” Noah said. “When could you possibly have met?”

“Um, at the Founders’ Ball a few months ago.”

He winced. “Oh, right. Sorry.”

“You were distracted,” she said with an airy wave of her hand. “Although Angelica told me some stuff about an elevator that was very intriguing.”

“Never mind.” He paused, eyes narrowing. “I talked to my mom last week, and she said you didn’t stay for the closing toasts.” He looked back and forth between Naomi and Iain, and she could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

“Never mind yourself,” she said quickly.

He shrugged. “I’ll just call your brother.”

“Do it and I’ll call your mother and invite her to come down here and plan your wedding.”

He rolled his eyes. “If you can get Angelica to agree to a wedding, you can call anybody you want. But I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. Or do I mean re-acquainted?” He walked in the direction of the bar, chortling the whole way.

“I’m sorry,” Naomi said. “I’ve known him since I was seven. Sometimes I think he hasn’t aged since then.”

“It’s all right.” Iain folded himself into the booth, the cushion squeaking quietly under him.

“He should have just given you my card, or just emailed both of us.” Naomi rolled her eyes. “He can’t resist a prank, apparently.” Noah knew her ’type’ perfectly well, since he’d been one of them before he met Angelica. He probably thought he was setting her up on a blind date. Now that he was in love, he wanted everyone else to settle down, too. Even though he knew her opinion on that topic perfectly well. If she could have rolled her eyes further back in her head, she would have.

“I’ll bet that goes over well at home.”

Naomi chuckled. “He has calmed down a lot since he and Angelica got together. But she travels half the time to film her show, so I guess he has to take it out on the rest of us. He once replaced all of Max’s shower gel with olive oil.”

“Joke was on him,” Max said as he arrived at their table and set a plate of tacos down in front of Iain. “I didn’t even notice. Here’s your favorite.”

“Are you sure the joke’s not on you, for using shower gel in the first place?” Iain asked with a grin.

“Gets into the nooks and crannies better,” Max responded blithely. “Naomi, you want me to commit crimes against lettuce-kind for you?”

“Yes, please.” She noticed Iain’s raised eyebrow and explained as Max departed. “He leaves the roasted red peppers off of the salad I usually order for me.”

“You’re a regular, eh?”

She nodded toward his plate. “Looks like you are, too.”

“I’ve only been here a couple of days, but I’m smart enough to know a good thing when I stumble into it.” He glanced from the tacos to her and raised an eyebrow.

She felt herself growing warm. The double meaning was obvious. “I, ah, brought my portfolio.”

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