“Your parents were always so progressive,” he said admiringly, but really he was thinking about Abby sleeping in, under the covers, warm and soft, curled up in something slinky with a book. Then he imagined taking the book out of her hands and slipping the lacy bit of nothing from her shoulder….
“Reece?” she said, and he realized he had gone blank, lost in his fantasy. “Are you okay?”
She seemed worried, and it bothered him. Of all the people he didn’t want worrying if he was healthy and ready to go, she was first on the list at the moment.
“Sorry. You just made me remember that summer when your parents decided to try to add selling goat cheese to the winery business, and all of the goats got loose one weekend and ate some of my dad’s vines,” he lied, unable to look away from her face. Her eyes had landed on the scar behind his ear—the skin graft had healed, but it was visible. Did it bother her?
The definite sparkle of interest in her eyes said no, he assumed.
She laughed then, breaking the bond. “He was pretty nice about it, considering.”
Her honey-brown hair was soft and slightly curled, pushed back in a haphazard way that made him want to reach out and weave his hands into it. She didn’t wear makeup, which he found refreshing. She didn’t need to. Her skin was flawless, her cheeks pink and kissable. And those lips…
“Did you ever wonder?” he heard himself ask.
Her cheeks turned rosy again, her lips parting slightly, as if she knew exactly where his mind had gone. “Wonder what?”
He paused. They’d had a nice evening, two old friends talking over high school times and getting reacquainted. Did he really want to step into other waters? He was only back for a month or so, or however long it took to sell the winery. And the faster, the better. Abby wasn’t one of his pit stops.
The women he knew in Europe were aware of his commitment-free lifestyle, his focus on his racing. They knew the score. They also had their own agendas, liking to be seen with a well-known driver, having their picture show up in the next day’s entertainment news.
Abby had no agenda. She was just…Abby.
He still had to ask the question.
“What it might have been like if we didn’t stop that night at the lake?” he said and noted the slight catch in her breath, but she didn’t look away.
“Sure, I wondered,” she said simply.
“I was about to ask you out, back then, when you took off,” he admitted.
“You were?”
“Yeah. I wanted to know what it would be like to be with you, for real,” he said. “I always liked you, Abby. A lot.”
“Oh” was her only response, sounding slightly breathless. He took that as a good sign and plunged ahead.
“Still want to find out?” he said, in spite of every bit of better judgment he had.
Her eyes widened in surprise and she stood suddenly, setting down her wine, her movements fluttering and nervous.
“I should go. We’re just tired. There’s the fire and the wine, and it’s easy to be caught up in old times, but really…I should go,” she repeated, and walked to the door.
Reece shot up, moving after her.
“I’m sorry,” he said, catching her arm, turning her to him. “I didn’t mean to scare you off.”
He wasn’t sure if he was talking about eight years ago or two minutes ago. He was sure he didn’t want her walking out the door.
They were close, and she looked up at him, her eyes somber.
“Listen, Reece, as much as I might be…curious, too, it wouldn’t be a good idea—”
“You’re curious?” His mind selectively honed in on the one thing he wanted to hear and he stepped closer. “About me?”
She licked her lips nervously, making his cock jerk, semihard already, against the rough fabric of his jeans. In his hurry, he hadn’t even pulled on briefs, so all that held him back was a bit of thin fabric.
“I—” She had started to say something, but he saw the pulse beating hard at the base of her throat, the desire in her eyes.
“What else are you curious about, Abby? I seem to remember you liked the excitement of being there, by the hedge, in public. Are you still up for that kind of adventure?”
He remembered how aroused she had been, and it had been just as hot for him, too. Did she still want that?
Reece liked risk, too. Hell, it defined him. He also had fantasies that not all of his lovers had satisfied.
What kind of sex was Abby into? He knew about her fondness for public places. Bondage, maybe? Something more creative? Role-play, perhaps?
He wanted to find out, imagining Abby tied to his bed or dressed in black leather. What if she wanted him tied up?
He could probably live with that. He was open to anything short of real pain or multiple partners—Reece wasn’t sharing Abby with anyone.
“Let’s just see, Abby, what it could be like between us,” he said, needing to know and pulling her to him, his hands traveling up her back and into her hair, as he’d thought about.
It was like silk. He wanted to feel it trailing over his stomach and his thighs, her mouth on him.
The thought made his kiss less introductory, less tentative, than it might have been otherwise. He took her soft lips and opened her wider, invading and rubbing his tongue against hers with a deep moan. She felt so right, like she had before, but better, the flames leaping between them.
Her arms went around his neck, and she rubbed back with her tongue, her lips and the rest of her body as she strained against him.
Green flag, he thought, but resisted accelerating, instead maintaining the steady heat of the kiss, learning her taste, her touch, until neither of them could take it any longer.
When her hands started undoing the buttons on his shirt, he walked her back against the wall by the window, pressing his hardness against her, moving his hands up to cover her breasts. She was firm and soft in his palms, the nipples budding hard.
Touching wasn’t enough, he needed to taste.
Moving his hands up under her sweater, he set the flimsy lace of her bra aside and bent to take one tight, beaded nipple in his mouth. He drew on it hard, murmuring encouragingly as she arched away from the wall, her hand at the back of his head, keeping him there.
He replaced his lips with his fingers, rolling the warm buds between his thumb and forefinger as he kissed her again, wanting to be everywhere at once.
He stood back, staring down into her flushed face, her passion-drenched eyes, raising a finger to touch lips that now looked like crushed cherries.
“Abby, I want you, but…” He let the question hang. He wanted her, but he’d back off now if she wanted him to, no matter what.
“Yes, please,” she said, her breathing short and hard.
She was incredibly sweet. He planned to take his time with her, he thought, and pressed her back, sliding a thigh between her legs, pinning her to the wall. He wanted to make her come as many times as he could before he got inside her, because once he was, he knew he wouldn’t last long. Not this first time.
He took her lips again and massaged those pretty breasts with both hands, moving against her until she was whimpering and grinding against him. Without warning, she arched, coming hard, moaning into his mouth as she rode it out. And he didn’t even get her clothes off yet, he thought with raw hunger, wanting more.
He pulled back, taking in her bemused expression, the surprised satisfaction he saw there making him swell harder.
He thought she might be shy, embarrassed, but she linked her arms around his neck and leaned in, nipping at his lower lip.
“More” was all she said as she looked him in the eye.
“Oh, honey,” he choked out. “There’s plenty more.”
Swinging her up into his arms, he turned to take her back to the fireplace, planning to dim the lights and strip that sweater off in the warm glow of the flames, when he stopped, his gaze drawn out the window.
He stared, uncertain what
had caught his eye, but a bad feeling overcame him and he let Abby slide to her feet. He walked closer to the window that looked out over the field.
“Reece? What is it?”
Sirens screamed in the distance, and the glow in the air over the field that had attracted his attention was not a figment of his imagination.
Her winery was on fire.
3
ABBY RESTED HER HEAD against Buttercup’s soft neck and just thanked the heavens that the barns hadn’t caught fire, too. That was something she couldn’t even bear to think about.
Her house was badly damaged, unlivable after water from the hoses had ruined what fire had not, but the main rooms of the winery were reduced to cinders. The horse seemed to nuzzle her in comfort as she tried to hold her tears back, but couldn’t, sobs racking her body.
What now?
The flickering light that she’d been trying to have fixed ended up being wires that the fire investigator said were probably chewed through by a mouse or squirrel in the wall. When the tree lights had been plugged in, she hadn’t thought twice about it, but the circuit had been overloaded and started the fire. It had spread inside the walls before consuming the entire winery.
If she’d been home, she might have been killed if she had been sleeping or overcome with smoke, although she had detectors everywhere. On the other hand, if she had been there, she might have been able to call the fire department sooner, and maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad, such a complete loss.
Instead, she’d been at Reece’s, in his arms, ready to say yes to anything he asked, while her family’s legacy burned to the ground.
She had to get away from the swarm of people. The firemen were still keeping watch, even though the fire was officially out, the insurance and other investigators were there, along with some neighbors, friends…and Reece. Everyone wanted to help, but she’d insisted on being alone for just a few minutes.
She needed the peace to think about what she would say to her parents, how she could tell them what happened.
Guilt assailed her. How could she explain why she hadn’t been there? That she’d been so busy, and so distracted by thoughts of Reece, that she hadn’t thought twice about the tree lights or the electrical problem?
She groaned, standing straight, wiping the tears away. No time for this now.
She had to get the insurance settled and cancel the wedding they’d been planning—that would be another tough phone call. The couple wouldn’t likely find another venue with only weeks until the wedding, but there wasn’t anything she could do about that. Abby would have to refund their deposits. That was going to hurt.
She’d see if Hannah would let her move in for a while, though it would mean driving back and forth to Ithaca daily, or maybe her insurance would pick up a room at the local inn, for a while at least.
“I thought you might be down here,” a familiar voice said behind her.
“Hannah,” she said, trying to sound normal, but her voice cracked under the weight of her exhaustion, being up all night, dealing with it all.
Hannah was across the barn, holding her arms out and Abby didn’t hesitate.
She held on to her friend, just for a minute, but it was Reece’s arms she knew she’d been seeking. Remembering how good it had been, not just the sexual part, but the way he’d held her against his hard chest later, when they’d watched the firemen work, had kept her from losing it altogether. She wanted that comfort back.
No, no, no. That was how she’d gotten into this mess, sort of.
“You okay?” Hannah asked, stepping back and smiling as two of the barn cats wound their way around her ankles.
“Yeah. I’m just so thankful the barns are far away from the house,” she said, stroking Beau’s silky nose. All of the animals were okay.
“That is a good thing,” Hannah agreed, chuckling softly as Buttercup snorted happily in response to more scratching. “Everything else can be replaced. It was a straightforward electrical fire. The insurance agent is already on it. Things can be rebuilt.”
“True, but I don’t know if that will be enough,” Abby said, too discouraged to be optimistic. “They can’t start rebuilding until after winter, which means we’re not only losing the Christmas events, but the spring wedding season and tastings as well. We lost almost all of the Riesling casks. With Reece selling, this could just be a killer blow,” Abby said tightly, her throat constricting at the thought.
“How am I going to tell Mom and Dad? I feel so much like I’ve let them down,” Abby said, sucking in more tears.
Hannah knew just what to do to drive the tears away.
“Speaking of Reece…he seemed awfully involved in helping you last night. And I couldn’t help but notice when we went inside that at first his shirt wasn’t buttoned up quite right. You know, like it had been put back together in a rush,” she said, with mischief in her tone that made Abby’s tears completely evaporate.
Abby groaned. Did everyone know where she’d been and what she was doing?
As if reading her mind, Hannah added, “He said he saw the fire from his house, got dressed and rushed down to help. Don’t worry—he didn’t give anything away, though I sure hope you’re going to share details with your very best friend in the whole wide world, right? You know, about why Reece was really getting dressed?”
Unbelievably, Abby had to laugh. Leave it to Hannah, even in the middle of utter loss. When all Abby had left was this barn and what was in it, her friend found a way to lighten the mood.
Reece had been wonderful. He hadn’t left her side until Hannah had arrived. He jumped in, talking to the firemen, police and the other people milling around, even opening up the main room of his winery for people to come in, get warm and have coffee. At some moment when she’d been talking to the fire investigator, Abby had lost track of him and assumed he had gone back home.
“Thanks, I needed that,” she said, taking a breath and feeling a bit better. “And there aren’t many details to share. Not really. I went down to Reece’s, brought some wine, hoping to talk…one thing lead to another, but before it went too far, he noticed the fire. That was pretty much it,” she said, shrugging.
“Oh, I doubt that’s it. The man’s interested—he couldn’t take his eyes off you, especially when that hunky fireman was talking to you, and standing a little too close, by the way,” Hannah said.
“You’re imagining things. Reece was just helping out. We’re old friends and we shared a moment—instigated by a bottle of wine. It’s best forgotten. I have enough to worry about now.” Abby’s attention snapped to the barn doors, where outside, she heard a woman’s voice, and then sharp, shrieking words. She couldn’t make out what was being said, but several colorful curses punctuated the diatribe.
Abby headed out of the barn to find Sandra Towers, the Christmas bride-to-be, standing in the middle of the yard in front of the blackened mess of Abby’s winery, wild-eyed and in tears. She spotted Abby then and marched across the lawn, obviously ready for a confrontation.
Great, just what she needed right now. Abby sighed. She shouldn’t bothered with having quiet time in the barn. She should have been on the phone doing damage control.
Too late, she admitted, as Sandra met her, almost standing nose-to-nose, and Abby backed up slightly.
“Sandra, I am so sorry. I was about to make phone calls—”
“I saw this on the news and couldn’t believe it. I had to see for myself. This is a nightmare! How could you let this happen?” the prospective bride yelled, clearly not thinking straight.
Abby tried to be patient. This was hard on everyone, and brides were under a lot of stress in general. Sandra wasn’t finished, obviously.
“What am I going to do? The invitations are all sent! Everything is scheduled! How are you going to fix this?” she demanded, and Abby pulled in a deep breath, closing her eyes, reaching for patience.
“Sandra, I know it’s terrible, and I wish there was better news, but I’ll definitely refu
nd all of your down payment and try to help you find another—”
“The wedding is twenty-five days away! There is no other place,” the young woman wailed. “I know, I checked them all. We have family coming in from Europe! You had better fix this or…or…we’ll sue!”
Abby was quite sure the normally pleasant woman was just distraught, and also was sure—mostly—that she had no basis for a lawsuit whatsoever. Still, it was hard to remain calm, and she was digging her nails into her palms in her effort to do so.
Suddenly, Reece appeared, putting his large hand on her shoulder. She looked up in surprise, noting the circles under his eyes. He was obviously exhausted, too.
“Abby, could I talk to you for a minute?” he said politely. “Excuse us for just a moment,” he said to Sandra with a smile. Amazingly, the young woman didn’t pitch yet another fit.
Abby walked with him to a spot about twenty feet away and wondered how she could still feel his touch when she was wearing her coat and he had put on a pair of heavy gloves. Maybe the same way she’d had a scream-worthy orgasm against his thigh—apparently clothes were not a barrier to sex with Reece Winston.
“First things first,” he said, dragging her away from her thoughts and producing a steaming travel cup to her. She could smell the aroma of the hot coffee inside. She took the cup, took a sip and peered at him over the top, thanking him with a look of bliss.
“I came out to bring you that and heard the shouting. I guess you had a wedding planned soon?”
She groaned and nodded. “Two days before Christmas.”
“And that is the blushing bride,” he stated more than asked.
“Yes.” Abby sighed. “I don’t blame her for being upset, but I didn’t expect her to come out here and go nuts…. Still, I can imagine it’s a mess for her, too.”
Reece nodded. “She’s obviously missing the point that you lost a lot more than she did last night,” he said in a hard tone, peering over to where Sandra stood, arms crossed, watching them.
I'll Be Yours for Christmas Page 4