Wild Honey

Chapter Six

Honey wished a way existed to shove your fist in your mouth after you'd opened it and said the unthinkable. Two hours earlier, she'd despised Oliver Holt and had considered putting a hot pink sofa into the foyer to mess with him further, and now she'd opened her wriggliest can of worms.

Oliver held up the last bottle of Wild Turkey. "Is this going to require another bottle?"

"No. Save it in case you have another panic attack." Cuddled up next to him—and her head still reeled about that—it had been too easy to forget she couldn't trust him. Nothing in their interactions thus far pointed to him being a friend. In fact, he was in the process of having her evicted from the building. "You still haven't given me a good reason for why you're trying to get me evicted?"

Surprise registered on his face for a moment, and then he concealed it again. "I'd almost forgotten about that."

"Well, I haven't." The problem with men like Oliver is that they thought they ruled the world. That the same rules that applied to the rest of humanity didn't apply to them. "And I'm asking you why."

"Actually, you're picking a fight with me so I don't ask about your marriage," he said. "But it's a fair question, and it's time we got this out the way."

Is that what she was doing?

Yes! Her mothers had always encouraged ruthless honesty, particularly with self. At times, like this, it could be a fucking pain in the ass. "And the answer is?"

"I decided I didn't like you because you were different. And you are different but that's not a bad thing." He shrugged. "I'm a dick, and I owe you an apology."

Wow! There came that honesty again.

"I'm not sure how to respond to that," she said.

He gave a wry smile. "Understandable. I have more of Esmé in me than anyone else."

"Tell me about her." Restless, she stood and paced. The lift limited her scope but she needed to move.

"Esmé is a law unto herself," he said. "She ran away from a staunch Afrikaaner family and married my grandfather when she was sixteen."

"Sixteen?" Honey suppressed a shudder. Young women made stupid decisions around men.

"My grandfather was only nineteen, but he came from old expat money. His great-whatever, Benjamin Holt, known to his family as Benji, had come from some British blue-blood family to South Africa seeking their fortune in the gold rush."

"Did Benji find it?"

"Not in gold." He flashed a grin. "But Benji figured out that miners need supplies and equipment and whoever could supply gold fever had truly found the richest vein of profit."

Honey studied his face. "I see the resemblance."

"Ouch." He winced. "He also bought up a number of mineral rights by means we don't ask too many questions about."

Oliver's hair was mussed and he'd tugged his tie halfway down his chest. As hot as he was in full businessman battle gear, she liked him better like this.

"A lurid past," Honey said. "Tell me more."

"I would"—he pulled a face—"but family dishonor and all that."

"So, Benji cheats, lies and embezzles his way into a fortune and then what happens?"

"He shot all his business partners and took their wives."

"What!" Honey stared at him.

"Kidding." He winked. "Benji made his money, turned respectable and married a lovely girl sent over from the home country."

"Romantic."

"Not at all." He chuckled. "Rumor has it she hated his guts."

"Very unfortunate."

"But still managed to give him twelve children." Oliver stood and stretched his back. "The oldest of whom took the fortune and grew it. As did his son."

"And his son?" Honey tucked her hands into his jacket pockets.

"No." He bent and straightened his left leg and then the right. "We lost the money-making gene until Esmé came along and managed my grandfather onto the right track."

"And you?" It wasn't too much of a stretch to see his audacious ancestor in him. He had that barely suppressed sense of a force in motion. Or maybe that came courtesy of Esmé. Whoever had gifted it to him, it made him compelling and intimidating.

He shrugged. "I like what I do and I'm good at it."

"Good God, Oliver." She kept her tone light. "Don't look now, but we may have a whole crap ton of stuff in common."

He grinned at her. "Don't be blasphemous."