“I’m a bad sleeper,” she finally said, and met his eyes, because it wasn’t a lie.
“Chamomile tea.”
She pulled a face. The waiter brought her new starter and placed it in front of her.
Etán watched her as she took a small bite of the raw fish, marinated in lemon juice, onions, chili, and fresh coriander. He smiled as her face filled with appreciation. She actually closed her eyes for the second bite.
“Mm,” Zenna licked her lips. “This is tasty.”
“Glad you like it.”
His smile increased during the main course, as he feasted on the sight of her digging into her meal. She ate with uninhibited pleasure and indulgence. When she licked the centolla sauce from her fingers, he had to look away. It was almost too much to bear. It was an act of seduction, of which she wasn’t even aware.
They ordered coffee instead of desert. Zenna yawned when Etán paid the bill. It wasn’t too late, but he knew the first five weeks of work had taken its toll. It was no easy job.
Etán draped her coat over her shoulders before they left the restaurant. As they walked toward the parking lot, two hundred yards from the restaurant Zenna suddenly stopped dead.
“What is it, Zenna?”
She was looking at a billboard erected on a skyscraper on the opposite side of the street. It was an advertisement for a new, fashionable brand of men’s underwear. A handsome, well-built, blond male stood, legs slightly apart, his thumbs hooked into his unbuttoned jeans, revealing the underwear of the same name splashed in bold, red letters over the board. He looked down at the street from his superior position on higher ground, his stare a pure, seductive invitation.
As Etán followed Zenna’s gaze, he realized why she had stopped. It was the dirt bag, Marcos. The piece of scum whose nose he still felt like breaking.
Zenna shook her head in disbelief. “Oh, my God. I guess it’s not his hands he is advertising, after all. And so fast?” Her eyes widened, a light of comprehension passing through them. “I guess he started modeling way earlier than he told me. Lying son of a bitch.”
Etán took her elbow. “Come on, let’s go,” he urged gently.
Zenna followed him blindly to the car. She got in when he opened the door for her, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes. Etán knew better than to speak as they drove back to the estate.
Forty minutes later he cut the engine and watched her sleeping next to him. He debated over whether to wake her or let her sleep, and finally made up his mind. He got out, opened her door softly, lifted her from the car, and carried her to the door. He had to fiddle with his keys a couple of times before he managed to unlock the door.
Teresa had left the lamps on in the entrance and in the hallway as well as in both their bedrooms. Her bed had been turned down, so he lowered her carefully onto it before removing her boots and untwisting the strap of her handbag from her arm. He opened her coat, but didn’t remove it for fear of waking her. Then he pulled the goose feather comforter up to her waist, checked the heater in her room wasn’t turned on too high—Teresa had a tendency to fry them—and switched off the bedside table lamp.
Once in his own bedroom, he undressed, showered, and slipped into his own bed. The bed he had once shared with Sanita. He still sometimes felt the pain of her absence, even after a year, and he could fully comprehend Zenna’s shock with being confronted with a full-blown, life-size poster of her asshole ex-boyfriend. He still thought about Sanita, but not as much as before. It wasn’t a fire that consumed him in agony any longer. He realized with a start he had not thought about her much since Zenna had walked into their lives. He groaned inwardly. Either time was finally having its healing effect or Zenna was to blame for certain effects he’d rather not acknowledge.
He couldn’t shake the feeling of responsibility, of protection, that raised the hairs of his neck in quiet alarm. The fear of failure was suffocating. God help him if he failed yet another woman. His soul wouldn’t survive.
* * * *
A few hours later, a strangled scream woke Zenna. It took a few seconds to register it had come from her. She was still dressed and wrapped in her coat. Perspiration pearled on her forehead. She sat up and touched her face. She was hot.
The door to her bedroom flew open, and Etán rushed to her side. “Zenna! What’s wrong?”
Shaking her head, she looked at him, still confused. “A dream.” She pushed her feet from the bed. “What happened? Did I fall asleep in the car? I’m sorry ... I didn’t mean to ... that never happens to me ... I was so tired.”
He helped her remove her coat. “You’re soaking wet.”
“What time is it?” She glanced at the clock. Four in the morning. “Sorry I woke you.”
“That’s all right. Do you want some water?”
She wiped the hair from her forehead. “Yes, please.”
She watched Etán walk to the bathroom and fill a drinking glass with water, before carrying it back to her.
“Thank you.” She drank it all.
Etán sat down next to her on the bed. He took the empty glass and placed it on the bedside table. “Want to talk about it?” He laid his palm protectively on her back.
The warmth of his hand soothed her. He was big, and strong. He only wore pajama bottoms, his bare, manly chest close to her. She wanted to curl into a ball and stay in his lap, like a pathetic kitten. Before she could help herself, she laid her head on his shoulder. His arms went around her, instinctively, and he held her until her body relaxed against his.
Etán’s only intention was to offer to make her a cup of chamomile tea, but instead, his hand slipped down her back and stroked up her side where he could feel the soft curve of her breast under the warm dress. Her face turned, her lips close to his jaw, and it took only a small movement of his head for their lips to meet.
A tremor ran down his spine as her hands trailed up his arms and down his back. She moaned softly against his lips, the vibration sending a thunderous sensation through him. He had to pull away, but she tasted so good. He nipped at her lips with his teeth, raked them over her tongue, and tasted the corners of her mouth.
Zenna wanted to melt into the man whose strong arms kept her close. She had always been the first to label kissing as overrated, but that was before Etán kissed her. Could there be anything better? His tongue sent sparks of fire through her body. He was demanding, exploring, and in charge. For once, Zenna didn’t want to feel in control, didn’t want to take the lead. She wanted to go wherever he wanted to take her, and it was clear where. Her fingers slipped to his hair, grabbing at its black thickness. She didn’t care. She didn’t care she wasn’t supposed to do this. In that moment, she wanted it more than anything. She gave in to the temptation, feeling the self-imposed restraints fall from her body, and lost herself in that precious present with all her mind and soul.
Then, he pushed her away. Her eyes flicked open in confusion. Etán’s gaze was fixed on her lips still moist with his kiss.
“I don’t want you to regret something you may be doing on the rebound.”
Zenna looked at him, wide-eyed with hurt. “You think I’m doing this because I’m on the rebound?”
Etán got up. “Why else? You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?”
She kept staring at Etán. Was she? Was she still in love with Marcos? Of course she was. Wasn’t she? She had to be. He was the man she wanted to marry. Frustration born from confusion and need pummeled her. “Must you over-analyze everything?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not your typical one-night stand kind of a guy, Zenna.”
His insult hit like a slap in the face. “And I am? A one-night stand type of girl?”
“That’s not what I said,” he retorted. “I said fucking isn’t going to solve anything for you.”
Zenna jumped up, her face flushed. “I don’t recall asking you to sleep with me.”
“It’s called fucking, baby, not sleeping, and that’s exactly where we’re heading.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You son of a bitch. At least call it having sex, if you can’t force yourself to say making love, and that is not where I was heading,” she lied, trying to salvage her broken pride.
He stepped closer to her. “Believe me, sweetheart, if I wanted to, that is exactly where you would have been. On your back in the middle of that bed. So, say thank you, like a good girl, that I am a gentleman who didn’t take advantage of you.”
She inhaled deeply, her breath shaky. “For your information, I don’t like it on my back,” she said icily. “Get out.” She pointed at the door. “Get out, now! You’re a rude man, and I don’t want to look at your arrogant face for another second.”
It looked as if he wanted to say more, but finally he turned for the door. In the doorway, he looked back. “Take a cool shower. You feel like you’re running a fever. We’ll talk about these dreams in the morning.”
“I’ve just about had it talking to you,” she hissed.
Zenna tried to hold onto the shreds of her control as she stood, shaking with anger, alone in her bedroom. She would deny it to her very last breath, but Etán was right. If he hadn’t stopped them, she would have slept with him. A part of her wanted that more than anything, and, right now, she hated that part. God, she couldn’t get involved with him because her heart hadn’t been completely destroyed by Marcos. She knew she would heal. Could recover. A man like Etán had the power to crush her, and she would never be the same again.
Chapter Nine
Zenna contemplated not going down for breakfast the following morning. The memory of the night’s ordeal left her with flushed cheeks. She didn’t want to admit Etán was right. Maybe she was on the rebound. He could at least have been a gentleman about it and used some excuse such as being out of condoms or something, instead of making her feel unwanted and worse about herself because she wasn’t exactly hot enough to sleep with. In the end, she was thankful he had stopped. She had a healthy attitude toward sex, but it wasn’t something she simply did for recreation. For her, it always went with strong emotions, and Etán was obviously someone who wasn’t going to give away his heart. Maybe it still belonged to his ex-wife. Maybe he was the one on the rebound.
The more she thought about it, the angrier she became at how futile the situation was, because Etán was a temptation she couldn’t resist. Indeed, her resistance had worn thin, and the fact he was able to push her away so easily—every time—was an insult to her womanly pride.
She woke late for a change, finally having fallen asleep only in the early morning hours. By then, sunlight already flooded her window. She wondered why her alarm hadn’t gone off. The voices echoing through the house reminded her it was Saturday morning.
Of course. Ana and Pedro were there. She could make out their laughter. Luca’s too. It would be rude not to show her face. She showered and dressed in a pair of blue shorts with a frayed flap that fastened around the front like a skirt, black tights, gray leg warmers, a gray sweater, and black, ballerina-style shoes.
As she made her way downstairs, she hoped Etán would be working or out. She almost blew out an audible sigh of relief when she walked into the kitchen to find only Ana, Pedro, and Luca around the center counter, eating croissants. It was a welcome change from the formal breakfasts in the dining room.
She kissed them all on the cheek. “Sorry I woke up so late. It’s been a tough week.”
Luca studied her, a question in his eyes.
She swore inwardly. Sometimes she forgot to hide her feelings. Her rejection from the night before hung over her like a heavy blanket.
Instead of voicing her feelings, which Zenna knew he had sensed, Luca grinned. “Legwarmers? Really, Sugar. You are a strange dresser. You look delicious.”
“Strange? Delicious? Strangely delicious? I never did understand how fashion could be fashionable when it’s so darn ugly. I have my own style. Maybe I should start a new label: Strangely Delicious. You can be my photographer.”
“Can you go for a hike in that outfit?” Luca motioned to her skirt.
“As a matter of fact, I didn’t dress for hiking, but yes, I can.”
Luca lifted his eyebrows.
“It’s a pair of short pants, Luca, not a miniskirt.” Zenna rolled her eyes.
“Good. I want to show you the caves. It’s really pretty out there and it’s not far. We can take some wine, and fruit. You look like you can do with a break.”
“I have to work a little bit, today.”
“All right. We’ll go out after eleven. That will give you a good hour.”
“‘No’ is not part of the equation?” Zenna smiled. She really did need to get away from the house for a while. Luca’s offer was tempting.
“How are things back in Santiago?” Zenna looked at Ana and Pedro.
“Same old,” Ana mused. “Except I’m eating my Tuesday dinners alone now, since Pedro is joining the men’s club once a week.” She shot her husband an endearing smile.
Pedro grunted. “It’s this new bill they want to pass at the National Congress that’s worrying me. We’ve been doing a lot of talking, off the record.”
“What bill?” Luca pulled out a high chair beside him and motioned for Zenna to sit.
Pedro sighed. “There are talks about land reclaims like those in Zimbabwe.”
Ana patted her husband on the back. “It’s not going to go there, is it?”
Pedro shrugged. “It’s hard to say at this point.”
Zenna took the seat next to Luca, and she was just pouring herself some coffee, when she heard Etán’s morning greeting from the veranda door behind her. Her hand visibly hesitated in mid-air. She caught herself and finished pouring the coffee, grinding her teeth as Etán did the round, kissing everyone good morning. His kiss on her cheek was fleeting, almost non-existent.
Luca cocked an eyebrow at Etán as his gaze shifted between his brother and Zenna. He watched Etán serve himself coffee with narrowed eyes. Etán, catching Luca’s expression, shrugged and brought the cup to his lips.
Pedro took Ana’s hand. “Looks like we can expect more rain on Sunday. I’ve invited the neighbors for lunch to talk about this land redistribution thing. Better plan it for inside.” He directed his attention to Etán. “How’s the launch planning coming along? Wine ready?”
Etán pushed a hand in his pocket. “Wine is perfect. In fact, I’ve spent the morning in the cellars with Miguel. Bottling is going as scheduled, too. Cristian is arranging for the equipment maintenance.”
He looked at Zenna. “Zenna’s done a great job on the launch. We only need to stay focused for another couple of weeks. We’re almost there.”
Zenna didn’t miss the subtle way in which he had emphasized ‘focused’. She got up and took her coffee. “Excuse me, but I want to soak up a little bit of sun on the veranda before I pour over some translations. Nothing to clear the cobwebs like a bit of fresh morning air and daylight.” She gave Etán a cutting look.
Etán watched her walk through the door, her back straight. Her smell, the perfume he had so carefully selected for her, hung in the air, a reminder of her just as difficult to brush away as the memory of the night before that he fought to push from his mind. He had lashed out at her for his own lack of self-control. He never should have kissed her. The last thing he wanted was for her to hate him for something she did in a moment of passion. He was angry with himself and taking it out on her. Now she was angry too, but she would have been angrier had he not stopped them from ... He wiped the thought aside.
Sighing, he turned to Luca. “I thought I could ask your help with something I’ve been letting my thoughts run over for a while now. I know your niche is portraits, but do you think you could take a few shots of the wine, grapes, you know, like food photography, for our new brochures?” He scratched his head. “Our usual guy is out of town, and the last time we did brochures, you weren’t into your photography yet. I thought you might enjoy a little project. We can head out to the cellar this morn
ing and look at what I had in mind.” Etán poured himself more coffee.
Luca regarded Etán in silence for a moment. “Isn’t that Zenna’s job, the planning of the brochures?”
“The translation of it, yes. Not the layout or the graphics.”
“Can’t stay and help, Bro. I’m taking Zenna to the caves.” He winked.
Etán’s hand paused above the sugar pot. As far as he knew, Luca had only ever once taken a girl to those hidden caves. The girl had broken Luca’s heart, and it was a short-lived romance because they had never met her.
“Don’t fuck with her, Luca. She’s not a cheap, one-night stand.” His voice was harsh.
“I’m not the one intent on fucking anyone,” Luca said. “You’re the one with fucking on your mind.”
Etán took a step toward his brother.
“Boys.” Their mother’s voice filled the kitchen. “I won’t have any of that talk in my presence.”
Pedro regarded his sons with quiet interest.
Luca held Etán’s gaze. “Why don’t you just do it so you can get it out of your system, man? You don’t have to protect her and keep her by your values. She’s a grown-up girl and she needs a grown-up man.”
Etán’s translucent green eyes flashed. “I know it’s been twenty years since the last time I’ve planted my fist in your face, but don’t for one minute think I won’t break your nose if you insult her again by talking like this. She’s practically part of this family.”
Luca shrugged. “She’s not my sister, Bro.”
Pedro got to his feet. “That’s enough.”
“Want to fight over her?” Luca got up. “At least I’m willing to fight for her.”
The Winemaker Page 13