The Trouble with Temptation by Shiloh Walker

promise, once Hannah is feeling stronger, I’ll be back out here as often as I can. And I will make sure you’ve got what you need to make this place a success.”
    “You are what we need,” Marc said sourly. He skimmed a hand back over his thinning hair, but the aggravation was fading from his voice.
    “No.” Brannon cocked a brow at him. “My land, my money—that is huge chunk of what you need, and you’ll still get that. I’m sorry, Marc, but I can’t live and breathe this place anymore. I can’t.”
    “Fine,” Marc said after a long, tense moment of silence. “Just … get some help out here, okay? I can’t do the creative shit, Brannon. I need you for that.”
    “I will,” Brannon said. “I’m already looking at resumes. There’s a woman who worked at one of the big wineries over in Georgia—I think she’d make a great fit.”
    Marc gave him a hangdog look. “Okay.”
    Brannon slid inside the Bugatti. “Chin up, Marc. We’ll be celebrating opening day before you know it.”

 
    CHAPTER SIX
    He was too big.
    He was too beautiful.
    Even after the past few days, Hannah was hard-pressed to come up with any other summation of Brannon McKay.
    She wasn’t talking about his physical appearance, either, although he sure as hell didn’t lack for that either.
    Everything about him was larger than life.
    He was the kind of guy you’d read about in some torrid romance book. She had more than a few of them in her house. Apparently, Hannah was big on her romances, even if she couldn’t remember a single one of them.
    With those wide shoulders and gleaming red hair and blue-green eyes, he just didn’t seem real. She knew he was loaded and she wasn’t relying on faulty memory for that. She’d done what any rational person would do—she’d Googled him.
    The net worth figure next to his name had almost tangled her tongue into a knot and now, as she watched him moving around in her kitchen, she tried to wrap her mind around the fact that the man who had fathered her child was worth millions —as in multi-millions .
    “You don’t have anything here to eat except ramen noodles,” Brannon said and he turned to look at her, bracing his hands on the counter behind him.
    The action pulled a faded gray shirt tight across a well-muscled chest and her mouth went a little dry. Had she run her hands across that chest? Did he have any hair on him or was he smooth? She had a sensory memory in the next moment—light hair, just a little, running down the middle of his chest, down his naval …
    She tore her gaze away and glared out the window. “Look, Mr. Mega-bucks, I’ll have you know I probably like ramen noodles.”
    “Look, Ms. Parker,” Brannon said, his voice mild. “I love ramen noodles. But you’re pregnant and you’ve lost weight. You need some healthy food in you.”
    She wasn’t in the mood for logic. She was antsy and edgy and in the mood for something that was probably very illogical , considering how much of a mess her life was. She wanted to go to him and pull him to her, touch her mouth to his. She thought she remembered how he tasted, thought she remembered the hard press of his body against hers.
    No, she wasn’t in the mood for logic or food or anything that didn’t involve kissing him. But there was a wariness inside her, a caution that confused her and kept her from moving toward him the way she wanted.
    Since she wasn’t going to let herself close the distance between them, touch him, she busied herself picking at one of her cuticles.
    “How about we go across the street and get something from the pub?”
    *   *   *
    Damn but he wanted to kiss her.
    Hannah’s gaze had slid to his mouth, lingering for a long moment before she looked away again. Heated, heavy currents passed between them and he’d half-held his breath for a moment, but then she’d looked away, focusing on her hands.
    I’ve been in love with you since I was in high school.
    Her voice, those softly spoken