She pushed away. Struggled to catch her breath.
“We still got it.” He smirked, resting his forehead against hers and breathing raggedly in time with her.
Chapter Four
“No,” she denied even though her body gave her away. He could practically feel the heat radiating from her core as it pressed against his uninjured leg as she straddled him, and the rise and fall of her small breasts, seemingly braless underneath the sparkling pink clingy material of her bridesmaid dress fascinated him as much as they always had.
Perfect.
Cat was exquisite. He hadn’t intended to kiss her or seduce her, but like always, he lost control around her. Always had. Ironic. He had this party, playboy image, but really, the only woman he’d let in was Cat. She pushed buttons and flipped triggers he hid from everyone, including himself.
He’d reached out to her at his most desperate moment. He’d wanted to appeal to their friendship. Not their oh-so-sexual past. But that was part of the problem he hadn’t counted on.
It had been four years. And Cat had been clear. She’d never wanted to see him again. They were done. Only the attraction didn’t feel past. At. All. It felt hot and alive and the heat that crawled through his body, made him ache nearly as much as his injuries.
“I’m sorry,” he said reflexively.
“No. I kissed you.”
“Why?”
“Just wanted to see if it was as good as I remembered,” Cat admitted casually, but her eyes, usually a pale, almost gray-green were dark with passion—the color they got when she was aroused, and he felt an answering flame rise up.
“Even better,” he said decisively, no longer feeling quite as physically battered now that his body had something much better to focus on.
“It was all right,” she said slowly.
“Baby, that kiss blew by all right—” he drew out the words “—at the first touch.”
“Maybe,” she drawled as if trying to think of the right words.
Unease stirred in August. Catalina had always been passionate. She burned as hot as he did, and she’d never been able to resist him. Ever.
“I guess I just wanted to prove to myself that I have really, totally moved on.” She looked at him, her body still plastered to his. “And I have.”
She took a step back, but she still had a hand clenched around his belt like he was an old man she had to hold up.
“So why’d you kiss me?” he demanded, stepping back into her body, crowding her a little, wanting to prove that she was lying. No way in hell had she moved on when she’d kissed him back like that. He felt like she’d handed him her soul.
“Like I said. A test,” she said. “You know all about those. And this is one I passed. Got an A plus.”
“Epic fail,” he said decisively, pissed off and also a little amused even though he was hard as hell and his body felt like he’d been electrocuted as residual sexual energy and desire ricocheted along every nerve ending. She was lying. Lying to him. She had to be. And her cool act was making each one of his injuries throb and scream more loudly. His head still felt like it was in a vise.
“No.” Cat shook her head and the escaped curls waved in the early morning breeze around her head like dandelions. “It worked. We are most definitely in the past.”
And then she turned around, still shouldering her Patagonia pack and a computer bag and two grocery totes like an ambitious Sherpa and stomped around the corner of the house to the back patio. He ordered himself not to look at the sway of her small but round ass, but that was a bust too.
He followed Cat at a slower rate, hoping his libido would go back into its uneasy slumber.
Done, his ass. They weren’t done. And he was going to prove it.
*
Cat hurried across an expansive patio of pavers, barely noting the planters of citrus, fig, fruit and olive trees and the creatively shaped shimmering turquoise pool. Was that a waterfall? Everything looked different, but she had to get away from August. She had to have a moment to gather herself. Find her inner strength and calm. Her skin felt blistered, like it was about to peel off her body, leaving her more stripped down than she already was. And her nipples were still hard, aching pebbles under the thin material of the dress.
She was still wrestling with the glass door that looked more like it was made of folding panels than one large sliding glass door.
Dang. It must be locked. Of course it was, even though Ghost Hill was twenty minutes out of downtown and the house was several miles from the road. Lots of people so far out on their ranches didn’t lock their doors, but August had said no one lived here.
“So, this is a game?” August’s low voice teased her ear, the tone casual but a hint of amusement.
No. No. No!
She did not need to challenge him, although a thrill stirred low in her belly.
August pushed one end of the panel and it began to fold up. Cat blinked. She’d never seen anything like it. It was as if the entire wall could just be folded to one side, letting the outside in.
His arm slipped around her body and his palm splayed low on her abdomen. He nipped at her neck.
“Deal me in.” His lips soothed over the nip. “You know I love to play.”
“That’s not what I meant.” She kept her voice firm.
“Too late, Cat. Game on.”
He let her go and she rushed into the house, blinking both from how quickly he’d turned the tables and how different the house was. The kitchen and dining room had always been connected. The massive oak farmhouse table that had easily seated sixteen people when called upon was the same, but nothing else was familiar.
The kitchen was state-of-the-art with new and gleaming top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances with the exception of a bright blue Wolf six-burner stove and oven. She didn’t know where to look—the massive island made with white terrazzo with just a few flecks of color as accents, the open shelves that held colorful heavy ceramic plates and blown glass.
It looked sleek and austere and so far from the warm, cozy, slightly cluttered kitchen where she’d had her first cooking and baking lessons with August’s mother that she couldn’t quite make the images meld.
She turned around and took in the full space. August had doubled the size of the room so that the kitchen and eating area opened to the vaulted great room where they now stood. It looked expensive. Stylish. Not like a Texas ranch house. It echoed.
“You definitely haven’t been living here,” Cat said, noting that some cubes that might be module furniture were wrapped in shrink-wrap plastic and stacked high against one bare wall. A flat-screen TV was on one wall and the other wall had a gas-burning fireplace that also opened out to one side of the patio.
Now that she was inside, she could look out of the extended room to the sprawling patio with a large saltwater pool, hot tub and small waterfall. Steps led down to a sports court.
And behind her—as if the patio and outdoor kitchen and pool and sports court weren’t enough fun—part of the great room had been turned into what looked like a teen boy’s fantasy and cave all rolled into one. Pool table, foosball table, full bar, and a round games table. Several arcade-style console games and a couple of pinball machines were in a rounded alcove.
“This looks like it could be in a magazine.”
“It’s supposed to be,” August said. “My designer has a shoot planned after the Bluebonnet Festival.”
Catalina wasn’t sure what to focus on. She’d never been in a house this…this… She didn’t even know how to describe it.
“Axel will love that.”
“Surprise.” August’s dimple was on full display.
“You love messing with him.”
“Yes, but the photo shoot is more for Verflucht than to irritate Axel. He likely won’t even be around to irk.”
She ignored the whisper of sorrow in his voice and instead absorbed details of the room. Even though it wasn’t fully decorated, this great room was specta
cular and belonged on the Travel Channel. She didn’t belong here. She didn’t belong with a man as rich and with tastes like those August now had. Not that she was interested in him at all.
“Let’s get you into the shower,” she said softly.
He’d done her a favor four years ago cutting her loose.
*
He was about to make a bit of a sexual joke, but kept his mouth shut. She looked tired. A little defeated. He hadn’t seen her like this before. He was a selfish bastard. She’d been working full-time and likely helping her friend flat-out with the wedding, and then she’d flown to Austin, driven to the hospital and had been putting up with his sorry-ass crap.
Guilt hit him as hard as the cases of wine had.
He knew she hated Last Stand. That was one of the reasons he hadn’t hired her. He’d wanted her to thrive, not be dragged down by the demands of her family, even if it meant she would be far away from him.
But now here she was—back. And if he did what he needed to do to save Verflucht, save his part of the ranch legacy and build on to the Wolf future, back she was going to stay.
“How ’bout an espresso?” he suggested. “I saw that you bought beans. I purchased a Breville Oracle Espresso machine. It’s a virgin.” He smirked. “And since you were a barista in college, and I know that you’re good…” He trailed off suggestively.
“I’m in the universe beyond good.” Cat walked over to the sleek, practically commercial machine, and August felt his world settle just a little. For this moment, they were like they used to be—teasing, challenging, confident. Before all that life happened.
“You can have the first cup,” he enticed.
“Only because you probably don’t know how to use it yet.”
Despite the accident and his injured employees, he smiled. His Cat always called it how she saw it.
“I haven’t tried.”
This one.
He’d bought the same model for his apartment and used it daily. That too was quite possibly destroyed and strewn on the floor of his former almost tasting room.
“Fine. I’ll make us each an espresso. You shower.” She shrugged out of the denim shirt she’d tied around her waist and kicked off her boots. Pink sparkly toes winked at him in the early morning light.
“Seriously? Babe, I’m going to need some help with taking off my clothes and showering.”
She whirled around. “No games, August. You are on your own for that.”
She turned her back on him again and placed the two totes of groceries on the counter and began unloading them.
August stared at the slim, athletic line of her back. She wasn’t really planning on ignoring him, was she? The niggle of doubt tasted bitter on his tongue.
“August, please.” Cat didn’t look at him. “Just go. Shower. You’ll feel better.”
“I know.” He grit his teeth, hating being dismissed and hating needing help even more. “But I still need help.”
“Save your sad, recycled pickup lines for doors two, three, four, ninety-seven or higher.”
That stung like a slap.
“Jesus, Cat. Give me a break. That was eight years ago.”
He’d been twenty. An arrogant ass. And angry that she was moving to UC Davis to pursue more education in enology and already had two internships lined up across the globe from him—Burgundy and Australia. She might as well have told him she was moving to Mars. He couldn’t follow her because he was in the heady throes of getting his first beer brand in liquor stores and independent grocery stores throughout Oregon and Washington, and he needed investors so that he could make the jump in production.
He’d thought that if he suggested taking a break in their relationship, she’d change her mind and stay with him.
He’d suggested it as coolly as he could over pizza. Cat had stared at him for ten seconds that had seemed like ten years and then jerked to her feet, saying, “Fine. Let’s start now.” Then she’d shoved the pizza in his lap and stormed out.
Her expression now had no give, the flicker of hope he’d felt when she’d been bonding over the espresso machine doused.
“I thought you’d forgiven me for that,” he mumbled.
Not like they hadn’t gotten back together again before the second break that had been more final than he’d ever imagined.
“Nothing to forgive. Long time ago.”
“Fine.” He hated the distance in her eyes and the stiffness of her stance. She had as much forgiveness in her as Axel did. Now that would be a pairing straight out of the Arctic. Icy boulder, meet frozen stone. “I just need help getting the sling off. And my shirt. And the wrap on my ribs.”
“So essentially you want me to get you naked.” Cat’s voice cut across the room from the kitchen where she ran her fingers over the gleaming copper-colored metal of the espresso machine, much like she used to run her hands over him.
A million replies danced on his tongue. One more inappropriate than the last. She brought out the best in him and the worst.
“I’ll do my best to not inconvenience you anymore.” He tamped down his irritation, but his last nerve was stretched and frayed and she just wanted to tug harder. Did she think he was going to make some kind of play?
“You kissed me,” he reminded her, no better than she was at keeping his mouth shut when he should.
Why not dig himself a bigger hole?
He leaned on the cane the hospital had given him since crutches wouldn’t work with his dislocated shoulder and wrist sprain. The rubber tip skidded on the highly polished wood floor. He lurched.
Suck it up.
Pain flashed through his body, but he took another step and another. He’d make it to the shower on his own even if he died doing it. And why the flippin’ hell had he practically doubled the square footage of the house?
It wasn’t the dignified exit he’d hoped for, but just getting away from Cat was a win. He needed to come up with a new game plan to rescue Verflucht that didn’t involve Catalina Clemmens.
Two more steps and the room swam. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep. He felt like he was going to puke again. Another step. Another after that. At this rate he’d reach his shower by noon. And Axel would probably arrive during a lunch break to check on him.
Just gets better.
He heard Cat swear under her breath, and her feet padding behind him should have filled him with relief, but instead icy dread swelled through his chest. He’d thought Cat seeing him at his lowest would suck less than if Axel did, but that had been one more miscalculation in a season of so many.
“Why a vineyard?” Axel had demanded more than once, and he’d shoved the question off over and over with a variety of casually snappy, sarcastic or rhetorical comebacks.
“And why Verflucht?” Axel had been so angry that for a moment August had braced himself for a knockdown, take-no-prisoners fight like they were teens again—only there’d been no Dad to pull Axel off.
“Lunacy,” Axel had furiously spit out. “You’re just begging for disaster. Not courting it like you usually do. Begging. And Fate will oblige. Especially on the ranch. Ghost Hill didn’t get a rep because it’s a bucolic tourist attraction. Verflucht! Seriously. You might as well burn it down ahead of time—at least no one will be inside.”
And that had been the last time he’d spoken to Axel.
He’d seen him from a distance on the ranch when he’d reluctantly driven over to check on the house renovation. The house had seemed so empty of life. He couldn’t imagine moving in there without his brothers. Just ghosts. Memories. He’d hoped that by adding on to the house and remodeling, he’d bring his brothers together again. Erase the past. Build new lives. Together.
Another miscalculation.
Cat’s hand was on his shoulder.
He turned. He couldn’t read her expression at all. It seemed an uneasy blend of angry, defensive, and sympathetic. He’d always been able to read Cat. And she always let him know what she was thinking. He’d loved t
hat. No verbal or emotional landmines to pick his way across the field to her heart.
But now…he’d planted those explosives of hurt and distrust.
Jesus. He’d gone from golden to toxic in two days.
No.
He’d spent years hurting Cat and Axel and pretending he didn’t care. But he’d been making crazy money—each business more successful than the last. So no one called him on his attitude, on his distance.
“Axel was wrong about one thing. I didn’t burn the Verflucht tasting room down.” He dug for humor, but it fell flat. “But he was right that Fate did answer my taunt and destroy it.”
“Do you want to talk about the accident?” Cat asked softly.
He’d always loved that she had such a broad spectrum of emotion. She could be so heartbreakingly kind and giving, but she also had no trouble letting him know her feelings when she believed that he or someone else had screwed up. And she owned her own mistakes.
Growing up with Axel, who never shared what was going on in his life or his head or explained or negotiated, Cat’s openness had been so healing—almost like an emotional map he could follow. He didn’t have to guess what was going on.
Until now. She was closed down around him. Protecting herself. He knew why. But it hurt. And the urge to try to make it right was powerful.
Don’t be a dick.
He had to leave the chasm. He wanted to hire her to be head winemaker of Verflucht—at least to get it launched and through the first few challenging years of brand building. To do that, he had to keep things all business between them. No matter how hard.
He owed her that. He owed himself that.
But damn—that was going to take some inner strength and impulse control he was not sure he had.
“August? Are you feeling sick again? Maybe you should lie down. Take a shower later.” Her hands were gentle as she guided him deeper into the house.
He looked down at her—pale, heart-shaped face, a scattering of light freckles across her nose and under her eyes. Their beautiful gray-green color lit with concern. Her expression hid nothing and didn’t reflect the pain that had often thrummed between them whenever he’d tried to reach out over the past few years.
A Bride for the Texas Cowboy Page 5