From the Moment We Met

by Adair, Marina

  She didn’t move, except to run her palms up under his shirt to explore those abs for herself. She felt him shiver under her touch and there was something so sexy about that. About the way his body wrapped tighter around hers, about how his hands spanned the width of her back to pull her closer.

  Closer was good. Closer made her feel treasured and sexy and safe, three things she hadn’t felt in a long time. Three things she didn’t want to stop feeling. Ever.

  When a knock sounded at the door, he reluctantly pulled back. They were both still breathing heavy when he said, “Screw Saturday. Let’s make it Thursday. That’s only two days. We can make it two days, right?”

  “I think so,” she whispered, although after that kiss she wasn’t feeling so sure.

  “Good. I’ll pick you up at six.”

  “What if Carlos doesn’t finish in time?” she asked, hoping two days was enough time to get up the courage to put on the red panties.

  “He’ll be done.” His gaze dropped to her neckline and he smiled. “I’ll leave dessert up to you.”

  CHAPTER 13

  I didn’t know this much raw land existed in St. Helena,” Abby said, standing near Tanner’s truck, staring out at the hundreds of acres of gently rolling fields covered in bright orange poppies and giant oak trees. The scent of dry grass and grapes from a few wild vines growing nearby permeated the air as their purple fruit swayed gently in the early evening breeze.

  It was beautifully serene and she should have felt calm, at peace even, but after two torturous days of waiting for this moment, her body was vibrating with anticipation. She inhaled deeply and eyed Tanner out of the corner of her eye, trying to force herself to stay here, in the present with him.

  “Technically we’re just outside the city limits, but it is still zoned for St. Helena schools and utilities.”

  Which would be an important selling point if Tanner Construction built homes up here. St. Helena wasn’t just known for its wine, but also its education system.

  The top selling point, Abby thought as she walked around the front of the truck to look over the edge of the mountain, would be the view. That alone was worth whatever millions he’d paid for this land.

  “I can see the entire valley from up here,” Abby said, not surprised by the awe in her voice. They were so high above the valley floor it looked like one huge vineyard of bright green vines and yellow mustard weed spanning for miles.

  “Over there is Calistoga.” Before she could turn to look, Tanner slid one arm around her waist, effortlessly pulling her back to his front. She’d been dying to touch him since he’d pulled up in his truck looking delicious in a pair of butt-loving jeans and a blue button-up rolled to the elbows. He also had on a ball cap, red, well-loved, and pulled low. “On a clear day you can see all the way to Napa.”

  Abby couldn’t see anything past his big, bulging arm, which was flexed and rippled as he pointed toward the towns he was naming. She also had a hard time focusing on what he was saying because his fingers, the ever-so-capable fingers of his other arm, were sliding back and forth across her stomach, reminding her of just how gentle her giant could be.

  “In the summer, I come up here in the early morning to watch the sunrise and hot air balloons take off, but man,” he said, and she could hear the love in his voice for this land. “During the winter we’re so high up I can see the storms rolling in from the north.”

  “How long have you owned this property?”

  She felt him shrug, then he leaned back against the grill of his truck, pulling her with him until all she felt was heat. Heat from the grill of this truck, heat from the sweltering summer day, both of which had nothing on the heat from being encased by that much solid man. “I bought it with my first signing bonus.”

  Abby craned her head to look up at him. “You made enough with one signing bonus to buy all of this?” He nodded. “Huh. I should have gone into football.”

  Smiling, he laced their fingers. “Nah, your hands are too small. Plus, all the guys would spend the whole game trying to tackle you just so they could cop a feel.” She elbowed him and may have snorted. “What? I spend all day waiting for you to walk by in those heels, swishing your hips, and hoping you’ll have to climb a ladder for some reason so I’ll have an excuse to touch you.” He leaned in, just a little, and his lips brushed her ear. “Your rules are very difficult to follow.”

  She hated her rules. At least a dozen times a day she considered doing away with them completely.

  Between the sexy winks and “coincidentally” sharing the same two square feet of space every time she needed to measure something, Tanner had managed to keep her hormones in a constant frenzy. But just when she was about ready to give in, she’d watch him lift a heavy copper pipe over his head, watch the play of his muscles bunch and tense, and know without the rules they’d end up naked—in the bottlery.

  A state her body was hoping to get to sooner rather than later since he hadn’t so much as kissed her since that five o’clock whistle blew two days ago.

  “Show me what you’re going to do with the property,” she asked, taking his hand and leading him farther into the field. Maybe her sundress and strappy sandals hadn’t been the wisest choice, she thought as the dandelions brushed her bare legs and she nearly broke her ankle navigating the gopher holes in five-inch heels.

  Always the gentleman, Tanner slowed his pace and wrapped her hand around his forearm for balance. “What do you want to know?”

  “Like where are you going to build your house?”

  “The residential development will cover the entire north side, from that row of oak trees all the way back to the pine trees.”

  “That’s a lot of land.”

  “Ferris wants to build a lot of houses. About three hundred semicustom when all is said and done.”

  Abby wondered how many homes Tanner wanted to build, and how the guy who’d started his company on the grounds of handcrafted luxury felt about the term semicustom, but he was already moving on.

  “Up on the bluff over there is where the clubhouse and pro shop will go. And right here, where we’re standing”—he bounced on the balls of his feet a few times for effect—“this will be the eighteenth hole.”

  “Huh.” Abby looked around at what he’d just explained, then back to him. “Where would you have put the clubhouse?”

  “Nestled in the pine trees to give it more of a rustic, natural feel so it works with the landscape and surroundings instead of against it.”

  No hesitation, no second guesses. Why would he agree to build it somewhere else?

  “But Ferris says the clubhouse should overlook the entire course.” Ah, Ferris. “It should make a statement about the design of the course and community. So the bluff it is.”

  Abby had a statement in her front yard. It was intrusive, pretentious, and nothing more than a sculpted stroke to the ego. She imagined Ferris’s clubhouse would have the same effect here.

  Before Abby could ask if Tanner had mentioned his ideas to Ferris, his phone buzzed. He looked at the screen and smiled. It was real and warm and so boyishly sweet, it was adorable—and in complete contrast to the smile he’d worn when talking about the three hundred semicustom homes.

  “Come here.” Taking her hand, he led her back to the truck and dropped the tailgate. Hands firmly around her waist, his fingers taking a little detour over her bottom, he set her up on the lift, giving one last look before he disappeared into the cab.

  When he reemerged, he was holding two tumblers and a bottle of wine.

  “What’s that for?”

  “We’re celebrating.”

  “But you don’t like wine.” Tanner was a beer guy, straight up. If you couldn’t hold it by the neck and take a swig in public without breaking any social codes, then he wasn’t into it.

  “But you do.” He set the glasses on the tailgate a
nd, after popping the cork, poured each glass a quarter full. “Ben just texted and we are all set to pass inspection tomorrow.”

  He handed her a glass, then held up his own in salute.

  “It’s really happening,” she said quietly. It was actually coming together, and Abby couldn’t believe it.

  That she’d landed the job had been a miracle on its own. That they’d managed to get the entire factory rewired and fitted with all new plumbing in just under sixty hours was incredible. And a testament to just how hard Tanner had worked, and just how good he was at his job.

  Now, she was going to work on a project that could change everything for her. A project that would say something about the kind of designer she was. The kind of person she was.

  Tapping his glass, she took a sip of wine, her heart racing with excitement and something that felt oddly like pride. An emotion she hadn’t experienced in a long time. An emotion Tanner had helped facilitate.

  “Thank you, Jack. I know how hard you and your crew worked to get ready in time, and I couldn’t have done this without you.”

  “It worked out.” He gave a self-conscious tug at the brim of his hat, turning it around, and Abby found her heart racing for a whole different reason. Tanner could wear a hat like nobody’s business. But when he tugged it backward so she could see the faint hint of vulnerability tinting his cheeks, she was surprised a guy like that could get so undone by a simple compliment.

  Almost as surprising as the realization they were drinking Ryo wine. Abby and ChiChi’s wine was presold years in advance to high-end restaurants and specialty wine shops around the country, making it expensive and extremely hard to come by. That he had a bottle was sweet, and flattering.

  “So your plan was to bring me up here and charm me with the beautiful views and my own wine?”

  “Nope.” Without another word, he just flashed her that fantasy-inducing grin of his, the one that was kind of crooked and promised everything Abby was too scared to ask for, and moved in.

  Two strides and he was wedged between her legs. But instead of touching her, he rested his hands on the tailgate, effectively caging her in, the smell of his aftershave mingling with that sexy rugged man thing he had going on.

  “I brought you here to show you my favorite place on earth and get you drunk. And since I know jack shit about wine, I went with yours, since I know you would never put your name on something you didn’t love.” His eyes dropped to her lips. “Plus you get handsy when you’re drunk. So bottoms up.”

  He tipped his hand in silent gesture.

  With a helpless laugh, she tipped her glass back and emptied it. The deep liquid warmed her throat as it went down, and the way Tanner stared at her mouth, watching her drink every last drop, warmed . . . well, everything else.

  “Too bad you don’t like wine.” She licked her lips. “This is great.”

  “Maybe I’ve been too harsh in my assessment.” But instead of taking his glass, he took her mouth in one hell of a searing kiss. His hands stayed on the tailgate and the only part of them touching was their lips—which was beyond erotic.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  “Sweet, bold, definitely full-bodied.” He pulled back slightly and waggled a brow. “And sexy.”

  “You mean, spicy?”

  “Let me have another taste.” And taste he did. He tasted her until she had no other choice but to taste him right back and—sweet baby Jesus—he tasted incredible. And had her body flushing hotter than if she’d downed the entire bottle of wine.

  When they came up for air, his cap was on the ground, her legs were tight around his waist, and she was leaning back on the bed of the truck with 250 pounds of badassed male pressed against her, running his big hands everywhere he felt bare skin. “Nope, sexy.”

  With a final smack to her lips, Tanner straightened, collected his hat, and sat next to her, the truck sagging a little under his weight.

  “Are we stopping?” she asked, still leaning back on her elbows.

  “Just slowing down,” he said, his eyes glued to her lips. “Savoring.”

  Abby sat up, her feet dangling by the license plate, and smoothed down her hair. Picking off a stray metal washer that had stuck to her elbow, she tossed it in the air and caught it. Balancing it between her thumb and forefinger, she looked at her empty tumbler between them, judged the perfect distance, and bounced it off the bed of the truck—

  Ping.

  —right into the tumbler landing with a solid clink.

  Tanner looked her way and smiled. “You’ve still got it.”

  “Yes, I do.” Abby eyed the washer sitting in the bottom of the tumbler and smiled back.

  In high school they used to hide in her parents’ wine cave and play Bullshit with beer he’d sneak from his dad’s fridge, a game of quarters meets truth or dare, where every sink in the glass earned the shooter a question of their choosing.

  She pulled back the washer and launched it again.

  Ping.

  Clink.

  Her smile hurt it was so big, and Tanner let out a laugh. “Darling, Bullshit requires me to slam a beer every time you think I’m lying. And since I’m driving home, that isn’t happening.”

  And if Abby called bullshit on his answer, and it was indeed the truth, she’d be the one to have to chug.

  “Then I guess there won’t be any lying.” Abby was not backing down. There were answers to questions she’d been waiting since senior year to hear, and she wasn’t letting this moment slip by. But she’d start with an easy one.

  She picked up the washer and dried it off on her leg. “Tell me why a guy who hates wine wants to be the go-to guy for wine caves in the valley.”

  “Because I like to blow stuff up.” Tanner sat up and snatched the washer. Concentration had him closing one eye as he weighed the washer. “Plus, I fell in love with a girl in a wine cave, so I have a good association with them.”

  Abby’s heart stopped—so fast she couldn’t breathe. When she and Tanner had made love for the first time in that wine cave, she’d felt a connection unlike anything she’d ever known. Like she’d somehow managed to find a safe haven in the aftermath of her parents’ death. And she’d been sure Tanner had felt it too, that his entire world had changed with hers. Only he’d never called. Never given her any indication what happened that night was mutual.

  Until now.

  “Jack, about that—”

  Ping.

  Clink.

  “Ah, one question per sink. And since I just sunk it . . . that makes it my turn.”

  Oh boy. Asking him questions was one thing. His turning the tables on her? This could get real. And fast.

  As though wanting to make her sweat—which she already was—Tanner leaned back against the wall opposite her, taking his time to get comfortable, his long legs stretched out in front and crossed at the ankle. He scooted the tumbler to the middle of the truck bed, then leaned back and crossed his arms.

  “Where would you build my house?”

  That was not the question Abby expected. And from the look on his face, it was not the one he’d intended to ask. But she was happy he had.

  “Right here. Where Ferris plans to put the eighteenth hole.”

  He didn’t move, didn’t give anything away, but Abby knew her answer had fazed him.

  “Why do you say that?”

  It was a second question, but she answered it anyway.

  “Because you showed me this spot first. And when you talked about watching the sunrise it was right over there.” She let her gaze fall to the view beyond the truck, where she could see him sitting on his big back porch, staring out at the sunset while drinking a beer. “This is where you stood when you decided to buy the land, right?”

  Tanner stared at her for a long, tense moment, and that’s when she saw it. Something bet
ween them shifted, went from real to raw.

  Tanner felt it too, because when he spoke his voice was husky. “I stood right there and looked out on the valley and it felt like . . .” He cleared his throat and gave a small laugh. “I don’t know, but it was enough for me to dump every penny I had in my pocket on this land.”

  Abby had a pretty good idea what he felt. It was what she’d felt all those years ago when she was with him.

  Needing to lighten the mood, she grabbed the washer.

  Ping.

  Clink.

  “Full disclosure, Jack. I want to know. Was that Sports Illustrated photo doctored?”

  Tanner let out a laugh, then sat forward. “You can’t say a word, but yes, it was.”

  He crooked one finger at her, asking her to lean in. She did. How could she not? Hard Hammer Tanner photoshopped?

  When they were nose to nose, he said, “They had to make the ball bigger,” then sat back with a smug-ass grin on his face.

  “Bullshit!” She poked at his chest. “I call bullshit!”

  Tanner grabbed her finger and did a little in-your-face action of his own, bringing their mouths a breath apart. “Prove it.”

  Suddenly, Abby didn’t want to play the game. She didn’t want to bounce the stupid washer. She wanted him to prove it. She wanted him to take her in his arms and not stop until everything was okay again. She wanted him to—

  “Tell me the truth,” she whispered past the lump in her throat. She picked up the washer and, eyes on him, sank it. “Why didn’t you turn me in?” When his forehead creased in confusion, she went on, surprised at how much talking about that time in her life still hurt. “You knew I put the mascot in your car, you had a picture, but you waited until after the game to turn me in. Why?”

  Because once upon a time Abby had thought she’d spend the rest of her life with this man. Actually, twice. In high school she’d chalked it up to being young and inexperienced. But in college, after the most intense weekend of her life, she was convinced. Two incredible days and nights spent in his arms, talking about the future, their hopes and dreams, was enough for Abby to know, enough to allow herself to fall. Allow herself to stop being so afraid and believe that maybe she had found a happy ending to all of the sadness in her life.