by Stacy Gail
“I think I know where we’re going.”
“Oh?” He set his drink aside, laced his fingers across his lean middle and watched her like a cat knowing he had his little mouse cornered. “Tell me.”
“Florida, or somewhere off its coast. The mojitos are a dead giveaway.”
“Uh-huh. And did you mention anything about Florida while we were at Gillooly’s?”
“Ugh,” she grumbled, looking skyward before sipping at her drink. Mmm. “You are making me crazy with this whole surprise thing. If we land and I still haven’t figured it out, I’m going to be so pissed at myself.”
“I had no idea surprising someone could be this much fun.” Chuckling as if thoroughly enjoying himself, he leaned over, picked up a toothpick and speared a chunk of meat. “Seriously, this could get addictive. I’m already trying to think of other ways I can surprise you.”
“Everything about you surprises me.” The words were out before she knew they were coming, but since they were accurate, she didn’t mind. “If I live to be a hundred, I don’t think I’ll ever forget the first moment I saw you.”
His gaze tangled with hers. “That makes two of us, my lady.”
Funny how her heart fluttered when he called her that. Almost like she was starting to feel like she actually was his lady. “You stared at me so intently, I assumed you had mistaken me for someone you knew.”
“You were someone I knew.”
In the process of spearing a cheese cube, she paused long enough to look up at him. “I’m sorry? Did we meet before the night of that charity event, and I somehow don’t remember it?” Though that was impossible. There was no way she’d ever forget a man like Gus Bloch. Not even with soap-opera-level amnesia.
He shook his head. “I mean that what I once told you was true. When I was growing up rough at St. Ambrose, I dreamed about having my own castle that no one would be able to take away from me. And since it’d be such a fine castle, naturally it would need a princess. Or queen,” he added when she opened her mouth to once again protest that label. “When I saw you that night, gleaming like living, breathing gold under chandelier light and looking so unbelievably magnificent, from the top of your pale blonde head to the tips of your pedicured toes, something in me recognized you as the woman I’d pictured being with me in my castle all those years ago. I don’t even care if it sounds crazy. Every damn word is true.”
“I don’t think that sounds crazy at all,” she said just above a whisper, forgetting all about the cube of cheese she’d speared. She was too busy trying to remember if anyone had ever said anything so beautiful to her. “I’ll be honest—I’ve never given a thought to what sort of partner I would conceivably wind up with. For most of my adult life I’ve been too busy pushing to make a stable world for myself, because the one I’d been living in as a child was vanishing out from under me. I hated that, because I was helpless to stop it. So I made myself a promise to be as self-reliant as possible just as soon as I could hold down a job. That’s one of the reasons why I started streaming when I was a freshman in college,” she added wryly. “I’d read that money could be made off of sponsors and endorsements if you managed to get enough followers, and I wanted that. I wanted to be in charge of how my world was shaped, rather than letting fate shape it for me. But for some reason, I always pictured my world with just me in it.”
“So you pictured it wrong.” Smiling, like he knew his pronouncement was arrogant as hell and he didn’t give a damn, he reached over to pick up her abandoned cheese cube and held it up to her lips. “No big deal. I’m here to show you that your world is much better with me in it. Eat.”
No one was more amazed when she followed his order. “You’re unlike any man I’ve ever met, Gus Bloch.”
“Yeah?” He reached over and handed her the drink she’d left on the table. “In what way?”
“You don’t seem to mind breaking all the rules that exist in polite society. You demand rather than ask. You’re direct and speak your mind instead of playing games or trying for diplomacy. You’re like the conquerors of old—riding in and taking what you want.”
“Hell, yeah, I do. I learned a long time ago no one’s going to give shit to me, so I’d better take whatever I wanted when I saw my chance, and fuck everyone standing in my way. Which leads us to where we are now, my lady. I want you. So I’m taking you when I see my chance.”
“Oh, my.” Her heart zoomed up into her throat, and she couldn’t look away from his gaze if her life depended on it. “Is that an invitation to introduce me to the Mile-High Club?”
“I would if I thought I’d get what I want out of it. But I don’t think you’re quite there yet.”
“What you want?” She frowned, oddly deflated that he’d just turned down sexy times that would probably be the most mind-blowing of her life. “I thought you said you wanted me.”
“That’s only part of the puzzle. There’s more to it, and I’m pretty damn positive I’ll get there. But for now,” he added, reaching out to pluck up a grape so he could feed it to her, “I’m good with learning about you—and you learning about me.”
Gamely she tried keeping the sexy-times door open. “You know, you really do learn a lot about someone when you have sex with them. And if you’re worried that I’d freak out over being caught in flagrante delicto, you should know I’m not overly modest. In fact, it’s on my bucket list to go streaking somewhere public, like Millennium Park, or someplace like that. You see? Not modest.”
He burst out laughing. “Holy hell, now there’s something I didn’t expect.”
She couldn’t tell if that was a good thing, or a bad thing. “Not very princessy of me, is it?”
“No,” he managed between fits of laughter. “But it’s so fucking real I can’t help but love it. I wonder what the hell else I’m going to learn about you this weekend?”
“Heaven only knows,” she shrugged and took a dainty sip of her mojito.
Chapter Seven
“Hey, my lady. Time to wake up.” With the jet’s engines winding down and the door opening to let the golden glow of late afternoon sunshine pour in, Gus leaned over to where Joelle snoozed in her reclined chair. Most people looked a hot mess when they slept—mouth open, maybe drooling, probably snoring. Not Joelle. No matter how many times she haughtily corrected him that she was not a princess, that cultured sophistication wrapped around her and gave her an impenetrable aura of pampered perfection.
Even if she dreamed of streaking in public.
Hell, she’d probably do even that with dignity.
“Joelle. Baby.” He leaned over and kissed her closed lips, savoring their exquisite softness. God help him, everything about her was his kind of perfect, even the texture of her lips. “Wake up. We’re here.”
“Hmm? We’re here?” She didn’t jolt awake, like he’d half-expected. She simply opened her eyes and stretched. “Yay, we’re here. Where’s here?”
“California. San Francisco, to be exact. It’s a little after five local time, but we won’t stop for dinner until we get to where we’re going to stay for the weekend. They should have dinner waiting for us by the time we get there.”
“Sounds lovely.” She got to her feet and stretched some more. Her supple body had lush curves in all the right places, and was veiled in a peacock-colored dress that wrapped around her like a jealous lover. He’d died a thousand silent deaths from the moment he’d laid eyes on her earlier that day, wondering if that damn wisp of silky fabric would just fall off of her if he untied the belt at her waist. “I know we ate on the way over, but I’m starved. San Francisco has a lot of lovely little places along the water, though I think my favorite restaurant is in Chinatown. You simply have not eaten Chinese food until you’ve eaten at the Green Goddess. Have you ever been?”
“No, and San Francisco’s not where we’re headed. We just flew into the airport here because it was the one that was nearest to our ultimate destination. Haven’t you figured it out yet?”
&nb
sp; “You and your hints are designed to drive me completely insane.”
“So says the woman who has streaking on her bucket list.”
“Darling, nudity is natural, and I’m not ashamed of my body.” She gave him a brilliant smile as she allowed him to steer her out of the plane and toward the awaiting Corvette convertible he’d rented for the duration of their stay. “I still don’t understand the hint you gave me earlier about where we were going. As I recall, I didn’t mention San Francisco when we went to Gillooly’s.”
“Not San Francisco,” he agreed, made sure their luggage was stored in the car’s miniscule trunk, then opened the passenger door for her. “But you did make a reference to someplace in California.”
“No, not really,” she frowned, sliding into the passenger seat. “Well, I mean, I did when I happened to mention my current favorite wine—no.” Her gasp was hilarious, filled with total shock, and the widening of those baby blues made her beyond adorable. “You’re not taking me on a date to a winery in Napa Valley, are you?”
“Not just any winery. Tilted Windmill Vineyard, which happens to have an onsite B and B. And we’re here just in time to celebrate the beginning of their harvest season.” Grinning, he drank in her staggered disbelief before rounding to the driver’s side. “You like their wine, yeah? I’ll get you some of their wine. That’s how I roll.”
“You’re taking me on a date. To a winery. In Napa Valley, because I happened to mention I liked their wine.” With her jaw still unhinged and her eyes shimmering with joy and amazement, she carefully reached over and poked his shoulder with a finger. “Yep. This is really happening, and you’re really real. I didn’t dream you up.”
Funny, that was how he felt about her. “I’m really real. And I’m going to get busy proving that to you just as soon as we get settled.”
Her laughter drifted in the air as he roared the engine to life and gunned for the exit.
*
Joelle might not ever cop to being a princess, and she had the feeling Gus would sneer at being labeled a Prince Charming—though he was most certainly charming, as far as she was concerned. And she didn't believe in happily ever after, because she had learned that life didn’t work that way. It had all shades of happiness and sorrow, and unlimited levels of ups and downs.
But if anyone had told her at that moment that fairy tales happened in real life, she would have believed them. She was currently right in the midst of a fairy tale that no one had ever thought to dream, but she recognized it for what it was.
And she never wanted it to end.
“What's with the smile?”
She felt more than saw Gus’s glance as he drove the winding, scenic highway that ran along Napa River. “Are you kidding? How can I not smile? Look around you. Breathe in that crystal clean air, a perfect mixture of eucalyptus and the sea. I had no idea this morning when I first woke up that I was going to be gifted with this moment. Thank you, Gus. I never would have even dreamed of going on this adventure, yet here we are. And it’s all because you paid attention to something I just happened to mention.”
“You happened to mention that you loved something. That was good enough for me.”
She couldn’t help but laugh while her heart took flight at his thoughtfulness. “I also love croissants. Are we going to Paris next?”
“Maybe next weekend. I think this is it.” He slowed for an arched gateway flanked by high hedges. The center of the arch overhead had an ironwork windmill covered in vines, and the road leading through the gateway was a neatly kept dirt track. Driving through the arch, she caught her breath at the sight the high hedges hid from the main road—undulating hills covered in grape vines all the way to the watery ribbon of the river.
“Wow,” she breathed, staring with dazzled eyes at the picture-perfect scene, and had to laugh when a pair of herons glided gracefully across their path to eventually splash down on the river’s slow-moving waters. “Are you sure we’re allowed to even be here? This feels like someone’s private slice of heaven.”
“Let’s find out.”
He sped up, and she looked ahead to discover the track headed up the biggest hill that overlooked the vineyard. Crowning the hill was a Spanish-style hacienda, with thick-looking walls, balconies accented with black wrought iron railings, and picturesque terracotta roof tiles. The architecture was delightfully foreign to her Midwestern eyes, and she found herself smiling all over again as they pulled up to what was clearly the main house, complete with a wide porte-cochere, the air perfumed with the thriving bougainvillea climbing riotously over the thick pillars holding up the porte-cochere’s roof.
“Welcome to Tilted Windmill Vineyard.” A fifties-something woman came out to greet them with a couple teenagers in matching Tilted Windmill polo shirts. “Are you Augustus Bloch?”
“That’s me,” Gus nodded while coming around to open Joelle’s door.
“Wonderful! You’re right on time. My son Brendon here will take your luggage to your bungalow. Would you like to take a few minutes to settle in first, or would you prefer to be shown to your table straight away? Everything is as you requested, and is waiting for the two of you.”
Gus, who’d slung an arm around Joelle’s shoulders, looked at her with raised brows. “Your choice, my lady. You hungry?”
“Starving.” Besides, who wanted to be stuffed away in a boring hotel room when there was so much to see?
“That settles it. Table it is.”
Within a handful of minutes, they were led around a multi-leveled patio, with several wrought iron tables and chairs. Joelle assumed they would be shown to one of those tables, but to her surprise they continued on to a meticulously maintained cinder path that eventually wound its way to a whitewashed gazebo on the edge of the hill.
“This is where weddings are usually conducted, thanks to the view.” Their young guide smiled shyly as she made a welcoming gesture toward the white linen-covered table, a candle burning in a mini hurricane lamp set as its centerpiece, along with a small bouquet of freshly cut flowers placed on each of the gilded charger plates. Off to one side, a decanted bottle of wine sat waiting for their attention, and the faint breeze carried the lush scents of flowers and eucalyptus. “I’ve always thought that this exact spot is the happiest place in the whole valley. I hope you’ll think so, too.”
“I think she’s right,” Joelle managed after the girl left, all but dumbstruck as Gus led her to a chair before sitting across from her. “And forget the valley. I can’t imagine there’s a place on earth that’s more perfect than where we are right now. I mean, just look at the view we have of the valley from up here.”
“I’m looking. Just not at the grapes.”
She tore her attention away from the rolling hills, awash in late afternoon sun and covered in neat rows of grapevines, to Gus. The deep, russet-tinged brown of his eyes seemed softer in the golden glow of the sun as he stared at her like she was the only true natural beauty he wanted to see. “You really are good with the smooth talk, you know that?”
“It’s easy to be smooth when you’re talking truth. Wine?” he added, reaching for the bottle.
“Absolutely. That’s what we came here for, right?”
“Among other things.” With a smile, he poured a couple fingers’ worth into their long-stemmed glasses, then raised his glass to hers. “This is that Malbec stuff you said made your taste buds dance with joy, so you should know right now I’ve got high expectations.”
“As long as you don’t call it fermented grape juice, I’ll be happy.” With a laugh, she clinked her glass to his, took a moment to breathe in the wine’s exquisite bouquet, then sipped savoringly.
Ahhhh.
Looking out at where this wine had been birthed, it was no wonder it tasted like laughter and sunshine in a glass.
“I think you’ve probably realized by now that I was the teeniest bit pampered before my parents died,” she said after a minute, while her taste buds did their best to dance with jo
y. “But not even they ever pulled off something this over-the-top thoughtful. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you for your kindness.”
“Stop right there,” he said, then leaned back in his seat when two servers appeared, one with a breadbasket and water pitcher, the other with salads. When they were alone once more, he ignored the food in front of him to instead give her a scowl. “I thought you had high-society manners. You’re not supposed to pay people back when they decide to do nice shit for you. That’s like asking how much a gift cost.”
“You’re right, and shame on me for clumsily wording what I meant to say.” Calmly, she draped her napkin across her lap and began picking through her salad. “What I meant to say is that I’ll always treasure your thoughtfulness, and I sincerely hope you know how staggered I am by how you seem to make dreams come to life—dreams I didn’t even know were inside me, yearning to come out. I simply wanted you to know that while I’ll never forget these magical moments, you didn’t have to go to all this trouble just to get laid.”
That seemed to freeze him for a long moment before his scowl disappeared and a slow smile took its place. “Jesus. I wonder if you’ll ever stop throwing me for a fucking loop.”
“Probably not, because life would be boring otherwise. I don’t do boring.” She took a bite of salad and sighed in deep satisfaction at the tangy zip of the vinaigrette dressing. Glorious. “I would like to do you, but I’m not sure you’re up for that sort of thing. After all, you didn’t seem too interested in sexing it up with me on the plane, so I’m not quite sure where we stand on this particular subject. Care to enlighten me?”
“I’m going to fuck you nine ways to Sunday the second we’re alone,” he said without hesitation, and a thrill of anticipation shot through her so fiercely it stole her breath. “And it’s not that I wasn’t interested on the plane. I just refuse to treat you like a wham-bam fuck that doesn’t mean shit to me. I also refuse to allow you to treat me the same way.”