Hidden in the Vines (Romancing the Vine)

by Gemma Brocato

  Rising, Alex walked around the table until he reached her side. He slid onto the chair next to her. Her hand rested on her knee and he laid his atop it. “I knew once I saw him with Andromeda he’d be too distracted to care about anything else. A reporter being led around by his dick will typically let the world move on without him.”

  Her lips curled into a sexy smile. Aw, dammit. Rawlings wasn’t the only man being led by his appendage.

  “Unless Gemini interferes,” she mused. “I thought they were simply co-workers, but based on his reaction to Todd’s attention, I think the relationship might be more than just business.”

  “On Gemini’s part anyway. What the hell is up with the names?”

  “I think they’re stage names. The Silicon Valley firm they work for is called Zodiac.” Jules twisted in her chair until her knees bumped his thigh. A warm breeze blew through the open dining room window, stirring wisps of her hair.

  Alex rubbed the strands of spun gold between his fingertips, cool and smooth, slipping over his fingers like silk. “Would you care to grab another glass of wine and sit on the porch with me? We don’t get many peaceful country nights in L.A. and I believe I’d enjoy it. And your company.”

  Jules’ gaze dropped to his lips for an instant before flashing back to his eyes. “As wonderful as that sounds, I have to pass. I need to see to something on the property. Rain check?”

  Her smooth, melodic voice reminded him of warm summer nights and satin sheets. Which made her declining his offer more disappointing. “Can I keep you company?”

  Her eyes widened and darkened. It looked a little like panic. “No! I mean . . . It’s just something I need to prepare for tomorrow. It’s meant to be a surprise for the teams. Can’t give you an unfair advantage.”

  More secrets? “Gotcha. Maybe tomorrow then. Listen, I’ll be awake for another few hours, if you want to stop by. You know my room number.”

  He brushed his lips against her smooth cheek. Intoxicating sensation buzzed through him at the contact. Placing his finger under her chin, he tipped her face up and captured her mouth under his. Deliberately keeping the caress soft, he ran his tongue across the seam of her lips, gratified when she curled them into another smile. Jules laid a hand on his cheek and returned the kiss, opening her mouth for him.

  It was just a simple kiss, which didn’t explain why his heart galloped in his chest, as if he’d just indulged in energetic, acrobatic sex. God, this woman did something to him.

  Alex broke the seal between their mouths and trailed his lips down the slender column of her neck. When he touched his tongue under her jaw, he was gratified to find her pulse hammering as hard as his. Pulling away, he stared at the spot in her throat where blood throbbed. If the kiss hadn’t stirred him, the sight of that rhythmic, erotic beat would.

  Laughter floated through the open window behind them, breaking the spell her pulse had lured him under.

  “I should go see about, um, that thing I need to do,” she said, her voice breathy. “I won’t be back until late, so I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She stood and turned to leave.

  After that kiss, she wasn’t going to come to his room? Well, hell. “Good night.”

  As she glided gracefully from the room, Alex pressed backward against his chair, fighting for control of his body and emotions. The Ugly Duckling had indeed grown into a lovely swan. And he’d get her on his team before this exercise in working as a unit ended.

  ~ ~ ~

  “It’s about time you dropped by.” Gitta’s normally musical voice rattled discordantly from where she’d burrowed into a comfy corner of the suede sectional sofa. A fuzzy brown afghan was tucked around her shoulder, a stark contrast to the swath of white surrounding her swollen face. Sharp green eyes and surgically enhanced, pink-tinted lips were the only things visible beneath the bandages.

  “I couldn’t get here sooner, Gitta.” Her mother had forbidden Jules from calling her ‘Mom’ when Jules had turned thirteen, refusing to let the world know Gitta was actually old enough to have a teenager. “I have responsibilities.”

  “Oh, pffft!” Gitta snapped her fingers, dismissing Jules’ obligations as if they were significantly less important than assisting her, the famous actress.

  Biting her tongue, Jules scanned the living room. The counters were littered with dirty dishes and food they should have put away hours ago. Clothing was strewn on every available piece of furniture, as if they’d been here a week, instead of less than forty-eight hours. The entire area looked worse than if Santa Ana winds had blown through. Or the maid had the day off, which was more likely the case. What the hell had Peyton done all day?

  “Julia, I’m parched. Would you be a dear and fetch me some water?” Gitta asked.

  There was her answer. Peyton had probably spent the day playing lackey to the diva. And making the woman her priority had left little time to tidy the cottage up. No wonder Peyton had gone to the second bedroom and firmly shut the door behind her the second Jules had arrived.

  More than a little pissed at the state of her home, Jules stalked into the kitchen. After grabbing a tumbler from the cabinet, she moved to the refrigerator. She’d just pressed the dispenser in the door when Gitta’s voice rang out across the room.

  “No ice, dear. Surely you remember.”

  Gitta had always been a freak about how she took her water. Jules remembered a waitress being reduced to tears with her mom’s over-the-top dramatics. All the hapless girl had done was bring a plastic cup filled to the brim with water and ice. Dropping her chin to her chest, Jules pressed the button for water. After the glass was filled to Gitta’s exacting specifications—two-thirds full only—Jules carried the drink and a coaster to the table situated next to her invalid mother.

  “I need a straw.” Gitta motioned vaguely.

  Fuck it. Jules snagged a plastic straw from one of the three empties and plunked it into the full one. She gathered up the coffee table clutter and trooped to the kitchen. Working across the room from Gitta could be considered a safe distance from peril. Which was exactly what Jules could expect if she sat down and gave her mom the dedicated attention she craved.

  As she cleaned the kitchen, she searched for a safe topic of conversation. Roles were out, the status of her current marriage completely taboo. “How’s your pain today?” she asked.

  “It’s manageable. Peyton has kept my medication on schedule.” Gitta waved her hand dismissively, as if her assistant’s tender care was nothing. “Thank you for sending Marcus for my ice cream.”

  Whoa! Since when did Gitta thank her minions? Jules eyed her mother, suspicion swooshing like a whirlpool in her stomach. Something was definitely up. She chewed the inside of her cheek. If she said nothing, Gitta would eventually spill some tidbit of information destined to send Jules’ world into a tailspin.

  Gitta fussed with the trim on the blanket, big diamond rings on her fingers flashing in the lamplight. “I know you said I shouldn’t, but I went outside to sit by the creek for a while today.”

  No news there. Jules had seen it while on the ridge with Alex. That’s why she’d kissed him . . . as a distraction. She’d just hold on to that thought. “I know, I saw you out there close to dinnertime.”

  The little shake of Gitta’s head rattled Jules’ brain. “Actually I was out then, but I’d gone out earlier, around four. I craved a breath of fresh air.”

  Jules stilled from folding a sweater she’d found draped over the back of one of the stools at the high counter. “Mom—”

  “I met a man. Alex Dixon. You should have told me there’d be reporters here.” Accusation drove the timbre of Gitta’s voice up sharply. Not so musical now.

  Oh, fuck me! Alex knew both her secrets. Harsh pounding beat a cadence in her temple. Why hadn’t he said something? The son of a bitch kn
ew about Gitta and let Jules kiss him, thinking she was distracting him from a story he already had. Anger built to a simmer in her gut. Trepidation forced the simmer into an angry boil. She pulled the stool away from the counter and plopped down.

  “This is bad. This is very bad,” she muttered.

  Gitta lifted her chin and looked down the bandages across her nose at Jules. “He agreed to keep my secret. Once I explained to him about how important his silence was.”

  “Gitta, he’s a reporter for a televised entertainment magazine. This story will be all over creation tomorrow. If Alex hasn’t already leaked it.” And what about Jules’ story? The last thing she needed was for tales of the Ugly Duckling to resurface. It wouldn’t ruin her business, but everyone, all her business associates, would view her differently.

  “He won’t say anything. He promised.” Gitta’s whining scratched Jules’ eardrums like fingernails on a chalkboard.

  Jules was certain Alex’s promise amounted to little more than crocodile tears. Completely useless and untrue. And to think, she’d had actually planned to stop by his room on her return to the main house. He’d promised something else with his kiss in the dining room.

  Oh, she’d still stop by his room, but he was going to end up very unlucky.

  “Gitta, you’d better touch base with your agent and make sure he knows about this and can smooth things over with Beauty By Nature and the studio. He’s got to do damage control.”

  Gitta flicked a hand, dismissing Jules’ concerns the same way she’d waved away Peyton’s adherence to a pain reliever schedule. Of all the self-centered, pampered behavior . . .

  Jules stood and dusted her hands together. “Do what you want, Gitta. But ignoring the fact that an entertainment reporter knows you’ve had a facelift will only result in disaster.” She strode to Peyton’s door and rapped sharply. Without waiting for a response, she bit out, “Peyton, she’s all yours. I’m leaving.”

  Focused on going to Alex’s room to kick his sorry ass out of her house, Jules didn’t spare a backward glance for her mother.

  Chapter 5

  Racing up the steps as if hellhounds nipped at her heels, Jules made her way to Alex’s room. The carpet runner in the wide hallway muffled her steps. It didn’t block the thunder rising up her spine each time her foot struck the floor.

  She paused outside room twenty-two and drew a deep breath. As she blew it out, deadly calm settled over her, blanketing the hot anger boiling in her gut with emotion deadening frost. Restraining the urge to pound on the wooden door, she made a fist and knocked with barely contained fury, glancing right, then left to be certain she hadn’t drawn the attention of any of her other guests.

  When Alex broke the story, it wouldn’t be wise to have someone who’d stayed under her roof bearing tales of her visiting the bastard late at night. It would just be salacious fuel on the PR shit-storm.

  Footsteps approached the other side of the door only seconds before it opened.

  “Hi!” A smile spread over Alex’s features. “I didn’t really expect—”

  “Shut up,” she hissed. Planting her hand on his chest, she bullied her way past him into the room. She ignored the confusion in his eyes as she eased the door closed behind her. Eyeing him suspiciously, she demanded, “What are you going to do?”

  “Is that a trick question?”

  Moving forward, he reached for her. She batted at his hands and scuttled away from the hard body confronting her. Stalking to the opposite side of the room, she put the bed between them as a barrier.

  Why the hell did he have to look so goddamned sexy? A pale T-shirt stretched tautly over his wide chest. Jeans clung to his pinchable ass. Son of a bitch! She narrowed her eyes at him, waiting for him to get it.

  “Oh,” he said.

  Quick on the uptake. Intelligence was sexy and he oozed it. “Damn straight, ‘oh.’ I just talked to Gitta. So I’ll ask again. What. Are. You. Going. To. Do?” She choked on each word.

  Moving to the other side of the bed, Alex took a seat. He tipped his head, regarding her as time stretched, stiff and awkward, between them. Jules crossed her arms over her chest, discomfort swelling inside her, and the motion drew his gaze down to linger on her breasts. From where she stood, she saw how the pupils of his eyes dilated as his lips parted.

  Losing her temper, she flung up a hand and snapped her fingers, the noise cracking through the quiet. “No way in hell. And no freaking wonder you agreed to keep my tiny little secret. You had a much bigger story, didn’t you?”

  “Toots, if I was going to break this story, don’t you think I would have a camera crew here by now? Why the hell would I take the chance on Rawlings scooping me?”

  Point to him. No other news outlet had shown up to help him spread the word. “You didn’t just call me ‘toots.’”

  “Yeah, I did.” His teeth flashed, white against the soft red of his lips.

  She wanted to reach out and smack the grin right off his face even as the memory rose of how decadent those curving lips felt. She stomped on the thought like it was a grape. “You’re an ass.”

  “Maybe, but trust me, your secret is safe with me.”

  “Like a farmer trusts a fox to guard the chicken coop? Not bloody likely,” she muttered. Looking away from him, Jules trained her gaze on the desk where his laptop sat.

  “I’m deadly serious, Jules. I won’t be breaking this story.”

  Her gaze flew back to him. “Why not?”

  He shrugged. “It isn’t the kind of news I want to report. I can’t stand the damn paparazzi.”

  That took her aback. She snorted, the indelicate sound amplified by the hush in his room. “Why should I trust you?”

  “I haven’t given you reason not to, have I?” Alex crooked his fingers and beckoned her closer.

  She stayed resolutely on the opposite side of the bed. “I’ve known you for three minutes. And in that time, you’ve already snuck around behind my back, researched my notorious past, and gone out of your way to dig up my mother’s presence here. You haven’t given me one good reason to trust you.”

  “Your past isn’t so notorious. It happened long ago and since then we’ve had plenty of other more entertaining and interesting stories.”

  Something inside her snapped. Sure, maybe there had been more interesting stories in the past ten years. But they hadn’t scarred her soul. They weren’t personal. Jules blinked back stinging tears. She wasn’t going to cry about the past. She’d changed. Even if Gitta hadn’t defended her in the midst of the brouhaha, she’d be damned if her mother’s secret saw the light of day.

  She pinned him with an angry glare. “I want you gone. Get your shit and get the hell off my property.”

  She rounded the end of the bed and stalked toward the door. Alex jumped off the bed. Wrapping his hand around her upper arm, he stopped her. The heat of his palm seeped through the fabric of her shirt. Her belly tightened at his touch. Dammit, she was furious at him and her body opted to betray her like this?

  Glaring daggers at him, she jerked her arm from his grasp. “I’m serious. Get the hell out.”

  “That would be a huge mistake.”

  In danger of gagging on the growing, angry lump in her throat, she grabbed the doorknob and twisted. Snatching it open, the heavy panel smacked into Alex’s shoulder as he attempted to push it closed. His breath whooshed out, stirring the hair at the back of her head. She scooted out the door before it rebounded off him, and strode down the hall toward the sanctuary of her room.

  “Jules,” Alex hissed in the quiet of the hallway.

  He followed her. Blood pounded in her ears. Gritting her teeth, she quickened her pace. He caught up to her as she reached the corner to the private wing.

  “Jules, wait.” His hand descended on her shoulder as he spoke,
his voice raised.

  Behind her, she heard a door open. Laughter spilled out from one of the rooms. “Oh, hell.”

  Jules shook off Alex’s hand only to grab his wrist. Heart pounding, she pulled him around the corner out of sight of the guest coming out of twenty-four.

  “Why are you so mad?” he asked.

  Pressing her fingers against his lips, she silenced his words and tried to ignore the tingle his mouth sent straight through her body to her core. Leaning against the wall, she held her breath and listened to the footsteps recede. Another door opened and shortly after, ice plunked into a bucket.

  Her fingertips felt damp. Did Alex just pucker his lips and kiss them? Scowling at him, she jerked her hand back. She shoved away from her resting spot and pointed to the door leading to her room at the end of the hall. When she entered, he followed.

  His sigh was audible in the stillness of her private space. “I knew it would look like this.”

  Jules scanned her room. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. “Like what?”

  “Like a spa. It’s so calm in here. It’s a shame you have to be so cranky and foul the atmosphere.” He sauntered over to the silvery gray chairs situated in front of the fireplace she never lit. He ran his hand over the upholstery before taking a seat. Relaxing against the cushions, his legs sprawled open. It looked like another invitation to sit on his lap. The look was sexy, but he probably knew that.

  “Don’t get comfortable. You aren’t staying.” She pushed her ear against the closed door, listening. Ice had stopped clinking into the bucket, but she hadn’t heard the guest go back to his room. Agitation chugged like a steam engine inside her chest.

  He relaxed deeper into the chair cushions and laid his hand atop his thigh. Her breath stuttered. He was so damned good-looking and sure of himself. Jules loved his confidence, then immediately despised herself for admiring anything about him. He was a reporter. And even if his entertainment program was a step above the typical paparazzi outlets, he was still the enemy.