My breathing quickened as my pulse followed suit.

  I wasn’t sure how Van did it, how he made me feel all the things he was saying or how his tenor and words twisted my core with memories.

  “Following through on this marriage,” he went on, “will allow both of us to explore the more intimate part of our relationship, at the same time watch the Butlers fall, and save Wade Pharmaceutical.”

  I couldn’t concentrate on my attraction to Van or my desire to explore an intimate world with him. If I did, I blurred the line between personal interest and business. I tried to deliberate on the details of Van’s plan. “Is that who you are, Donovan Sherman, and what you do—you save companies?”

  “No, it’s not who I am. I do the opposite.”

  “Why do you care about Wade?”

  “I don’t.”

  “What do you care about,” I asked, “or is there a who?”

  “There’s not a who. I told you, I’ve never proposed.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t believe you. Everyone has a who.”

  “You can learn my past as you write my story.”

  I held tightly to the ribbon and crossed my arms over my breasts. “I’ve been a pawn in the McGrath-Butler connection for too long. And that makes me leery. This whole recent chain of events seems calculated.”

  Van stepped closer, cupped my chin, and lifted my eyes to his. The power I’d felt the first time we touched, sitting before the blazing fire, came back with a vengeance, sending small detonations throughout my circulation.

  I was undeniably attracted to this man in a way that was new to me.

  “The recent chain of events does seem unbelievable,” Van agreed. “I’ll give you that, but calculated, no. The last thing I planned on doing the other night was to find a beautiful, half-frozen woman in a snowstorm.” He reached out to my cheek. “Or for the two of us to—”

  I interrupted, “I don’t regret the sex. You said I would. I don’t. Regardless of my better-thought-out answer to your proposal, I’m not sorry for one minute about what we did. I told you then I had no expectations and laid no claims to you or to a future.” As Van began to speak, I placed a finger on his full lips. “That night helped me more than you’ll ever know. Being with you gave me a glimpse into what’s beyond the constraints I’ve allowed to be placed on my life. That night with you, I broke free, and even in a snowstorm, I proved to myself that I was capable of surviving beyond the road map that had been drawn for me. Sex was another barrier that I broke that night.”

  Van reached for my hand, moving it away from his mouth as a smile came to his lips. “Technically, I think I was the one who broke...” He let the sentence end as his eyebrows moved up and down.

  “I didn’t come to Ashland looking for sex, to give away my virginity, or for another marriage proposal. I came here because of your job listing. All the coincidences...” I took a step back and away from his magnetic pull. “They seem...” I wasn’t sure how to describe them.

  “That listing has been open for three months,” Van said. “You’re the first candidate to show for an interview. The rest have all been frightened off by the unknown.”

  “Should I be frightened?”

  Van nodded with a striking grin. “Very, but not in a bad way. You, Julia, should be exhilarated, excited, and filled with anticipation about the unknown. You said you were looking for a new life. Here it is. All you have to do is jump in with both feet. I’m not going to deny that the chain of events has occurred quickly. Call it fate, destiny, or cosmic irony. Whatever the greater power is that brought you to me and me to you was beyond either of our control. I believe my grandmother called it red sin.”

  My head tilted. “Red sin?”

  “She said it was an old legend. Red is the color of blood, sacrifice, danger, and courage. It’s also associated with heat, passion, and sexuality. When two people meet unexpectedly with an unexplainable attraction that defies common understanding, it’s called red sin.”

  “Does that make it bad?” I asked, intrigued.

  “My grandmother would say that bad is what you make out of what you’re given. So is good. I never believed in red sin before you. Now, I can’t deny that it’s real. What we do with it is what will eventually define its goodness or badness. Am I alone, Julia? Do you not feel the same thing?”

  “I do.” I took a deep breath. “I’m attracted. I don’t love you.”

  “Is that instrumental in marriage? Do you love Butler?”

  I took another step back and spun in a slow circle. “That’s not a fair question. Skylar and I have known one another our entire lives.”

  “Yet you were going to marry him, a man you’ve known your whole life, were never intimate with, and can’t admit to loving.”

  “We were intimate. We just never—”

  Van stepped closer, reaching for my waist and holding my hips against his hard, muscular body. “Any man who has spent his life near you, Julia, and hasn’t wanted or pursued the divine pleasure of being inside you isn’t a man who’s honest with you or with himself.”

  “We had an agreement.”

  “An agreement. We could have one of those too.”

  Julia

  Van’s hold of me was distracting as he pulled me into his orbit. It would be too easy to stay within his gravitational pull, to give into the red sin. Thoughts of everything we’ve said cycloned within my mind. One thing in particular came to the top of my thoughts. I laid my hand on his chest, my fingers splaying over his satin tie. Beneath my touch, I felt the steady beat of his heart.

  “Regardless of how attracted I am or how much I enjoyed the sex, I don’t want to marry you simply because I’ll regret the decision to marry you less than I would if I’d married Skylar. That’s what you said. The lesser of two evils isn’t the best choice.”

  With one arm snaked around my waist, Van tugged my hand with the ribbon and pried open my fingers. “Maybe it isn’t red sin, but as you said, the white ribbon. One thing you should know about me is that I’m not the lesser of anyone or anything, including evils. I am that wolf you heard howling at the moon. Skylar Butler is an infant in the world of business. His father is a faltering piranha and Skylar is learning.”

  I stared at the ribbon lying in a twist on my palm and back up to his gaze. “How do you know so much about the Butlers?”

  “I pay attention. The world of high finance has relatively few significant players.”

  “The Butlers are significant.” I wasn’t sure if I was stating or asking.

  “No. They want to be.”

  “My family?”

  “Are they significant? No, but they could be.”

  I tilted my head and looked up at Van. As his vibrant green stare searched mine, I shook my head and handed the ribbon back, placing it in his large palm. “I’m still sticking with my second answer. I can’t jump with two feet into what I just escaped.” Taking a step away, I freed myself from the warmth of Van’s hold and I took a seat at the long table. “Tell me more about the job, about writing your memoir.”

  Van’s gaze narrowed as he pulled out another chair and folded himself into the seat beside me at the head of the table. It was impossible not to notice how handsome Donovan Sherman was in his expensive suit covering the muscles and toned body that only a few nights ago had been against mine.

  “Are you saying,” he asked, “that you want the job, but not the proposal?”

  “I’m not sure what I want,” I answered honestly. “You read me right the other night in the cabin. You said that somewhere there’s a man who did me wrong. You said that I was searching for a life that wasn’t planned out, and in the process, I ended up stranded in a snowstorm.

  “It was all true. Skylar Butler hurt me, but he’s not the only one. I’ve allowed it. I’ve let others run my life for too long. I’m only twenty-four years old. My shares of Wade will remain under my father’s oversight until I marry. I’m not in a hurry to do that, Van.” I laid my hands out on the table, noticing my ring-free finger. “Besides, the idea that I have to marry to receive control of my shares is archaic and misogynistic. If I wanted, I could fight the will in court. Times have changed since my grandfather died.”

  “You could, but that will take time. Marlin Butler had immediate plans for Wade Pharmaceutical. I slowed those plans down with the purchase of the shares I bought this morning, but if you leave your shares under your father’s control and Butler manages to connive your father into doing something unexpected, your family could lose everything. Butler currently has twenty-five percent.” Van shook his head. “Did you wonder how I was able to acquire twenty-one percent as fast as I did?”

  “Yes...no.” I took a breath and released it. “I should have wondered. I haven’t exactly been thinking straight.”

  “I was able to move fast because I have people working for me who constantly watch for instabilities in the market, in industries, and in businesses of all sizes. They watch for weaknesses that could lead to opportunities. Wade Pharmaceutical as well as other small pharmaceutical companies has been on our radar for some time. As I’m sure you’re aware, recent pharmaceutical developments regarding patents, fast-tracked approval, and the government trying to regulate the prices of medications have all worked together to create a volatile environment. Your father is right about the bigger companies wanting to dominate the market. In most cases they do. Their size alone gives them the advantage. The twenty-one percent of Wade I just purchased was lined up for acquisition by Marlin Butler through multiple investment brokers.” Van looked at his watch. “I would suspect that very soon, your ex-future father-in-law will realize I outbid him and stole the nest egg he planned to fry. His deals were interestingly timed.”

  My thoughts were now on Wade Pharmaceutical, the company my great-grandfather founded. In this short time, Van was telling me more than I’d ever gotten from my father or my grandfather before him.

  “What do you mean, interestingly timed?” I asked.

  “The sales were scheduled to go down at the end of business on December 30th. He’d placed a marker and paid a hefty fee to keep the deals hidden until then.”

  “December 30th? Skylar’s and my wedding was supposed to be on the 31st, New Year’s Eve.”

  Van nodded. “The 30th is also a Friday. The markets never truly close, but with the combination of the insignificance of Wade, the end of the fiscal year, and the holidays, there would have been a good chance that the news of the sales would have stayed hidden until return to business on January 3rd.”

  My mind was too busy trying to make sense of everything to concentrate on Van’s description of Wade Pharmaceutical as insignificant.

  I took a deep breath and stood. “Skylar and I would have been out of the country by then. Why should I believe you? If everything you say about Marlin Butler is true, then I’ve been a pawn longer than I realized. That doesn’t instill trust. If I can’t trust a man I’ve known my entire life, who is also my father’s best friend, then how can I trust you? I don’t even know you.”

  Van’s gaze followed me as I walked back and forth in front of the window. For a moment, I stared again out on the scenic snow-covered setting. As I watched people walk this way and that upon the sidewalks before the storefronts bundled in their winter layers, I realized there were many things I didn’t know about Van, Ashland, or the company that was destined to be mine.

  Before either of us could comment, a knock came at the door. When Van and I turned, Mr. Fields appeared.

  “Oscar,” Van said, “I said that we weren’t to be disturbed.”

  Mr. Fields’s gaze went from Van to me and back to Van. “Sir, if you’d like me to conclude this meeting for you, I’d be happy—”

  “I don’t.”

  “The time...it has taken—”

  Van shook his head. “Call my office and let them know that I was detained.”

  “Do you have any idea of how long this meeting will last? Mrs. Preston called and you have another meeting...”

  Taking a deep breath, Van stood. “Leave us. I’ll call Connie.”

  Oscar Fields nodded as he backed out of the room and closed the door.

  “What do you do?” I asked as Van reached for the phone in his breast pocket.

  His full lips curled as his gaze met mine. “I buy and sell.”

  “What?”

  “Anything. Everything has a price.” Van lifted his phone to his ear. Still speaking to me, he said, “Move in with me, write my memoir, and learn who I really am.”

  It was an intriguing offer.

  What will I learn?

  Who is this man who is a self-proclaimed significant player in the world of high finance, who dresses as if he is to appear on Esquire, and also chops wood and is comfortable in a remote cabin?

  He called Skylar an infant. From what I’d seen of Van, I couldn’t judge his age. His statement would mean that he was older than Skylar and older than I.

  How much?

  Van’s attention went to the person on the other end of the phone call. “Connie, I’ve had a change of plans. Cancel the rest of my day.” He paused. “I agree.” His green gaze scanned from my head to my toes as a smile curled his lips. “This is highly unusual.” He disconnected the call.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  His gaze glistened like fine emeralds. “Accept my offer and find out. Do you accept?”

  “The job offer or the marriage proposal?”

  “Accept the job offer,” Van said, “and we’ll put the proposal of marriage on hold. Those are my terms. If you want the job, the proposal won’t be taken back nor will I accept your second answer. Your first instinct, Julia, was to say yes. You want time to discover yourself. Take that time to let me do the same. And you can get to know me.”

  “What about sex?” I asked.

  “The job comes with your own living quarters.”

  “Does that mean no sex?”

  “I’d like to leave that subject open for debate. If you agree, we can get to know one another as we explore the more personal aspects of a relationship.”

  I took a deep breath.

  Is this exactly why I left Chicago?

  Is red sin the new life I haven’t known I am searching for?

  “Julia?”

  “A new life.”

  Van nodded.

  “I think I owe it to myself to see what it entails.”

  “Does that mean...?”

  “It means that yes, Van, I accept.”

  Julia

  Somehow during my drive along the white ribbon, I’d gotten off the main road. At least my GPS had kept me on roads. The road I followed took me west of Ashland. That was how I ended up on the outskirts of Van’s property. If I would have continued, instead of crashing into a snowbank, I would have reached Lake Superior. Now after accepting Van’s offer of exploring the job opportunity, I was following his large black truck northwest from Ashland to the west side of Chequamegon Bay.

  The country and land near the shores of the Great Lake were stunning, even with their white covering. Tall trees of all varieties reached up to the blue sky. Though the snow had stopped, the massive accumulation of lake-effect snow now appeared as tall white walls on the sides of plowed roads, ones that were barely wide enough for two-way traffic.

  Following in Van’s truck’s tracks, I scolded myself for not accepting his offer of a ride to his house. If it weren’t for the tracks from his truck, barreling through the snow that had blown back onto the roads, I was skeptical as to whether the car I rented would be able to proceed.

  Once we’d passed through Washburn, a quaint little city even smaller than Ashland, we were back onto narrow roads in wilderness. If I chose to stay in this area, for the job or any other offer, it would take me some time to get used to the difference between here and the city of Chicago.

  Gone were the big buildings and traffic jams.

  The road I was following wound through the tall trees until we arrived at a lane with an open gate, leading to what I assumed was Donovan Sherman’s home. Following his truck, I drove up a winding, inclined lane. My mouth opened as I stared through the windshield, taking in the huge structure. By its sheer size alone, I wondered if at one point this had been a hotel or bed and breakfast. At the same time, it appeared modern with a lot of windows and a combination stone and wood-sided exterior.

  With the rental car parked on the cleared wide driveway, I stepped from the car and lifted my face to the massive structure. Pulling my down jacket around me, I stuffed my hands into the pockets to shield myself from the cold. I turned slowly all the way around, taking in the way the structure surrounded three sides of the driveway.

  The closing of Van’s truck door echoed from the garages on my left. I turned, noticing how different he appeared from the night I met him. His mountain-man clothing was replaced with his custom-fitted suit and covered by a double-breasted wool coat. Instead of boots he wore leather loafers that clipped upon the concrete as he walked toward me from one of the double garages, the one where he’d just parked his truck. His orange hat was nowhere to be seen, and his gelled dark mane blew in the breeze.

  I took in the other two double garage doors. Both sides of the structure were two stories, the center was three. Turning, it appeared as if the middle structure was the main house with another wing to the right and one to the left.

  “This is a lot of house for one man.”

  “I suppose it is.”

  Van placed his hand in the small of my back. “Come with me and let me show you around.”

  “Said the spider to the fly,” I mumbled as the pressure of his too-familiar touch brought thoughts of another part of our agreement to mind.

  Without replying, Van led me up the front stone porch to the large entry. The door before us was easily five feet taller than Van. It was odd to see him appear dwarfed. That hadn’t happened in the cabin or Mr. Fields’s office. He turned the large knob and pushed the door inward.