Page 13 of The Distiller's Darling

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Iain couldn’t stop staring at Naomi’s mouth, remembering all the wicked ways she’d used it on him months before. He was having a hard time concentrating on what she was saying about the work she did for companies like his, but that was okay—flipping through her portfolio, he’d already decided to hire her. He’d seen the finished product with Noah’s labels, and everything she’d shown him in the last few minutes put her well ahead of the designers he’d spoken with previously. It was a no-brainer, really.

Setting his plate to the side, he took a long pull on his iced tea. He twisted the portfolio around and pushed it toward Naomi. “I like the look and feel of these.” He studied the upside-down images for a few more seconds before dragging his gaze back up to find Naomi chewing delicately on her bottom lip.

She dropped her gaze to the images he’d pointed to, examined them for a few seconds, and then raised her eyes again. All business now, she said, “That vintage-modern look is very on-trend. It harkens back to a time when goods weren’t as disposable as they are now, so people subconsciously equate it with quality. The use of strong, masculine fonts also works well for the spirits industry.”

Quality. That was something Iain’s father understood, even if he didn’t think his youngest son did. “I’m looking for something that will satisfy my dad and brothers, since I need them to sign off on this venture. But I’d love to hear how you can incorporate some of my sister into the design as well. She’s the genius behind the whiskey.”

“Oh, I hadn’t realized you had a sister.”

The only reason Iain knew she had a brother was because he’d met the man. But once they’d left the ball, he and Naomi hadn’t spent the night studying their respective family trees. But perhaps it was time they actually did get to know one another? If he was going to use River Hill as his base of operations, they would run into each other from time to time. Coming back here after his trips up and down the coast was sounding better and better. And if he could persuade Naomi to take him on as a client, they’d be spending a lot more time together. At least he assumed that’s how it worked. This was all new to him.

Truth be known, he wanted this spirited, unique woman to know him. The real him. Even if it was just for a while. “Two older brothers—Braden and Fionn—and my sister, Maeve. We’re Irish twins.”

“What’s that?”

“She was born on January first, and I was born on December thirtieth.”

Naomi’s eyes bugged out, and she flattened her palms on the tabletop. “In the same year?” she asked, her face displaying her horror at the concept.

Iain chuckled. For as strained as his relationship with his father had been lately, he couldn’t deny the man was madly in love with his mother—even after all these years. Personally, he didn’t think the whole “until death do us part” thing was for him, but if he were to ever settle down with someone, he hoped he’d be as mad for her as his parents were for each other. “The old man can’t keep his hands off my mother. Half the time, I don’t know whether to be happy my parents are still together or disgusted by how blissful they are.”

Her brows furrowed, and Iain could tell she was working out the math. “How is that even possible?” She shuddered and shook her head as if to chase away whatever thought had taken up residence there.

“Different times, I guess,” he answered with a shrug before hailing a waitress for a refill of his iced tea. “If I’m going to think about sex, it’s not my parents I want to be picturing.”

He let his gaze fall to Naomi’s lips before dragging his eyes back up to meet hers. She looked adorably flustered, and he wondered if she was picturing sex now. Specifically, the sex they’d had. The sex he hoped to have again in the not-too-distant future, if he was honest.

“Oh right, got it. Yes, of course.”

“Relax, Naomi. I’m just taking the piss.”

She groaned and raised a hand to her forehead. “And now I’m picturing your hand wrapped around your dick, and I’m sorry, but that is really not fair.” She leveled a frustrated glare at him. “You’re making it very hard to be professional right now.”

Iain let his lips hitch to the side with a smirk, and he saw Naomi’s eyes go wide with understanding. Her face reddened, and she pointed at him. “Stop it. You stop it right now, Iain …”

His first name dangled into the long pause, and he watched her visibly struggle to come up with his surname. Now he was fighting a full-on grin. “You don’t remember it, do you?”

Her eyes flashed with something that might have been either guilt or annoyance, and she chewed her lip again. God, he loved it when she did that. It reminded him of the face she made when she was close to coming. “I don’t suppose it’s Jameson?”

“No, sweetheart. I’m not a Jameson.” Iain knew he should be nice and just tell her his damn name, but he derived a perverse sense of satisfaction watching her squirm. To be honest, he couldn’t remember if they’d even ever exchanged last names that night. But this was too much fun not to continue.

Her eyes scanned the restaurant, and he watched as she tried to see across the room to the bar. “Sorry. Max is all out. He says a new shipment arrives tomorrow.” Of course, Frankie’s stocked Brennan’s.

She slapped her napkin down. “Okay, fine. You caught me. I can’t remember your damn last name.”

He smiled and leaned forward, reducing the space that separated them. “Ask me nicely.”

Naomi gritted her teeth. “What is your last name, Iain?”

He reached across the table and rubbed his thumb over the top of her delicate-looking hand—the one he knew from experience was anything but. She’d raked her nails down his back the first time he’d made her come, and then she’d gouged the plaster in the wall above the headboard the second time. Her hands were strong and capable, and he desperately wanted to feel them on his skin again.

“How about this? You take me back to your place, and I’ll spend the afternoon making you scream it?”

Naomi opened her mouth to speak, then immediately closed it. She tilted her head to the side and studied him for a couple of seconds. “Here’s the deal,” she said eventually, pulling her hand away and crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t sleep with people I work with. Call me old-fashioned, but I never mix business with pleasure. You can either hire me to do your labels, or you can come back to my house and fuck my brains out. Your choice.” She finished by raising one elegant eyebrow at him.

Having seen her work, Iain knew what he wanted his labels to look like. But he also knew no woman had made his pulse quicken and his blood run hot and furious through his veins the way this one did. There really was no choice at all.

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