"Shit," I mutter. The last thing I need is to have the Goodson family crawling up my ass. They have enough money to be a real problem if they decide to step in. Since their wines were prominently displayed in her store, that's a very real possibility.
"That's not the worst part," Jackson warns me.
"What?" I growl, my jaw ticking.
"Her father is Grant Davis, owner of Davis Financial Group."
"You're fucking kidding me."
"Nope."
"Jesus Christ." I scrub a hand through my hair, then flip open the folder and skim the report he compiled. Sure enough, Lilah Jean Davis is the oldest daughter of Grant and Lily Davis, the same Grant and Lily Davis who own the most prominent financial firm in the south.
Fuck my life. This is a problem. A big goddamn problem. Her dad is one of the wealthiest men in Tennessee, and her brother-in-law co-owns one of the most lucrative vineyards in California. One we do regular business with.
If anyone can afford to place a bid high enough to ensure I don't get the building, she can.
I drum my fingers on the desk, staring at the photo attached to the file. She's so fucking pretty. Her curves were made for my hands. I bet she's soft everywhere, just lush and ripe and…ah, goddammit. I'm hard again.
"You need to strike a deal with her," Jackson advises. "Otherwise, this could get messy. If her father or brother-in-law gets involved, your reputation could take a hit. The last thingyou need is for them to spin this as you trying to bully a woman-owned business out of the building she leased fair and square."
"Yeah, I know." I tug on my hair, trying to think. "Have Samson start looking for alternative locations for the complex. And have Deena draw up new building plans."
"She can't draw new plans without an idea of where the building will go," Jackson reminds me. "She needs measurements, topography, property lines, existing features…"
"She's drawing them for the current space, but with a carve-out for Lilah's shop. Tell her to make the whole bottom floor shop space built around Lilah's store."
Jackson's brows climb. "You're going to let her keep her building?"
Am I? A big part of me wants to walk away and let her have it, but investors may not agree. "We need options, just in case," I finally say, unwilling to settle on a course of action right now, not until I know which way the wind is blowing.
He nods, eyeing me sideways. "What are you going to do?"
"Try to talk her down."
"You mean seduce her." Is that disapproval in his voice? Maybe. We've always made it a point never to go after a woman-owned business, not because of the optics, but because it's just a shitty thing to do.
We were both raised by single moms hustling to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. Most of the donations I make each year go to organizations and groups that support women and women-owned businesses, because that's what my mother would have wanted.
But…this is different. I'm not trying to force her out of business. I just need her to pick a different building. Any different building. I'll pay for the goddamn thing myself, just so long as she moves.
"I can tell by your lack of response that you're considering it," Jackson says with a heavy sigh. "Just…don't be stupid, man. You could sink this company."
"I'm aware," I snap, bristling. I don't need a reminder from him of what's at stake here. The weight of responsibility rests on my shoulders, morning, noon, and night. Which is precisely why I can't afford to sit back and hope for the best, not when it's now confirmed that she could easily afford to draw blood in this fight.
Too many jobs are at stake here. And, despite her opinion of me, I'm not an asshole. I don't want to cancel a project people are counting on to feed their families.
I flip her folder closed with a curse, not sure how to play this. As tempting as seduction sounds—and believe me, it's tempting as hell—I doubt I stand a chance of coaxing her into my bed. Even if I could, the thought of using sex to get what I want isn't appealing. That's a line I've never crossed, and I don't intend to start now.
If she comes to my bed, I don't want it to be because I have ulterior motives. I want it to be because she's desperate to know what it feels like to have me all over her. I want it to be because she came of her own free will, not because I played some fucking game to get her there.
And that just isn't going to happen, not when I'm after the building she's willing to chain herself to just to keep.
Fuck my life.
I haul myself to my feet, snatching her folder off the desk. "I'm going to Santa Maria," I growl. "Clear my schedule. I won't be back for a few days."
"You want me to come?"
