One More Taste Read Free Page A

feels too good to be true?” Emily said. “I mean, I get that Knox is family, but the man’s amassed a net worth of millions by buying and flipping failing businesses. How can we trust him not to sell us all out?”
    â€œI was skeptical when my dad first told me his plan, but I trust my dad. And I trust his lawyers. They’re too business savvy to make it possible for anyone to sell the resort away from the family.”
    When the car rounded the driveway and came to a stop, Carina and Emily crowded together, ducking their heads low in case either Knox or his driver looked their way.
    Emily already knew what he looked like from photographs accompanying write-ups and interviews in business magazines, as well as the occasional photograph of him attending a charity ball or museum opening, posted online on Texas society blogs. From what she’d seen, Knox was loaded with money, charm, and ambition. An impeccable business reputation. A scandal-free personal life. By every account, he’d made his fortune the most ruthless way possible—fair and square.
    None of that research, however, had prepared her for the sight of him.
    Knox Briscoe stepped out of the back seat of the sedan one long leg at a time. He buttoned his black suit jacket and surveyed his surroundings, looking far more intimidating in person than the confident, intellectual spirit that his photographs conveyed. He was younger. Larger. His features were darker and more brooding. His leather shoes were as shiny black as the paint job on the limo, as slick as his black cowboy hat and suit.
    â€œOh, wow,” Carina said on a breath. “I forgot how much he looks like my dad.”
    Emily had been too wrapped up in ogling him to notice, but now that Carina mentioned it, he did look a lot like a young Ty Briscoe back before he’d gone bald. “The Briscoe genes are strong, there’s no doubt.”
    â€œWhat are you feeding him and my dad at their meeting?” Carina asked.
    Emily flushed with a sudden, rare case of insecurity as she considered the lunch menu she’d created for the meeting. How could she possibly feed Knox Briscoe pheasant? He looked like he dined on nothing but porterhouse steaks and the tears of his enemies. “Brine-roasted pheasant with an heirloom sweet potato puree and a wild mushroom reduction.”
    â€œSounds tasty.”
    â€œEverything looks tasty to you these days. You’re an eating machine, but look at Knox. I can’t pair him with that menu.”
    Carina snickered. “He’s not a wine.”
    Definitely not as decadent and sweet as wine. He had the muscular grace of one of those hard-core Crossfit athletes who bench-pressed semi-truck tires in his spare time and had a single-digit BMI rating. He probably didn’t even drink wine. He definitely didn’t eat sweet potato purees or mushroom reductions. Though he should. It would probably do him a world of good to indulge his senses like that.
    Just like that, inspiration struck. “That man needs peaches.”
    Specifically, the late season peaches she’d gotten that morning from her orchard supplier in Fredericksburg.
    â€œCome again?” Carina said.
    â€œSugar. Butter. Fat.” Inspiration jolted Emily like a zap of electricity. She slid down the wall to the floor, closing her eyes to visualize her new masterpiece. “Charred peaches with a balsamic vinegar reduc—no, not vinegar—a pinch of cayenne lacing a brown sugar brûlée crust. Oh my God, that’ll piss him off.” She rubbed her hands together like the evil genius she was. “All that butter and sugar. He’ll hate that. Right up until he takes a bite. Then he’ll understand.”
    Carina poked her with her shoe. “You’re doing that weird fantasy food rambling thing again.”
    Emily barely heard Carina’s teasing; she was too busy perfecting the recipe in her mind. “Huh?”
    â€œI