She could tell he was angry, and his sudden change in mood sent the blood speeding through her veins, laced with yet another dose of high-octane adrenaline. Her belly tightened and the surface of her skin became ultra-sensitized. Perversely, she felt her mouth soften, as if in anticipation of a kiss.
Instead of being scared, she was turned-on, she admitted to herself as her tongue licked over suddenly dry lips. His fingers tightened, and she twitched in his hands.
Her movement broke the tension. His grip loosened, his eyelashes dropped to shutter his gaze, and he stepped back, arms dropping to his sides. With a roll of his shoulders, his tight expression disappeared.
Just like that, the elegant, careless playboy prince was back, leaving her nerves singing, stretched tight by desire … and frustration. God, she’d wanted that damn kiss.
“That’s right,” he finally said, his voice cool. “You don’t know me at all.”
And then he turned and strode out of the cottage, clearly communicating that he didn’t give a flying fig if she ever would.
“Hell,” she whispered to herself, her skin still throbbing where his hands had been on her. She’d got up that morning thinking her biggest dilemma was getting out of involvement in Emerson’s wedding, but now she thought a greater problem might be in forgetting - about the disturbing and dangerous Prince Jack Parini.
*****
Jack Parini had sworn to himself he wouldn’t say a word, but only a mile had passed before he turned to his former college roommate and current running partner. “Tell me everything you know about Stephania Baci.”
Liam Bennett shot him a look, the beginning of a smile curving his mouth, though his footsteps didn’t falter as they traveled at a steady pace along the rural lane. “Woman trouble on the first morning of the new year, Jack? I should have figured you had a reason for rousting me for a run besides working off your ugly beer gut.”
“It’s too bad the five miles won’t do a thing about your creeping bald spot,” he shot back, glancing at his friend’s full head of hair.
“Is that any way to talk to the person you’re trying to pump information from?”
“Forget it,” Jack said, not sure which annoyed him more, his own weakness or Liam’s amusement at his expense.
“It’s especially funny,” the other man continued, “because Stevie Baci called just thirty minutes ago and put to me that exact same question.”
“Odd.” Jack feigned puzzlement. “You’d think she’d know all about herself.”
“Ha ha. Of course I mean she asked about you.”
“Ah.” He dropped behind Liam as a truck passed. “What did you say?”
It came out casual, barely interested, which was exactly how he felt. A decade ago, he’d stopped giving a rat’s ass what other people thought about him, up to and including most of his family. Ugly gossip, whispered innuendo, and a notorious reputation followed wherever he went, and he didn’t bother anymore with dodges or corrections. Hell, some of it was deserved.
For example, he couldn’t deny how offhand he generally treated the XX half of the population - which made his keen curiosity about Stephania Baci perplexing. Something about that woman got under his skin. Of course, there were those coltish legs. The spectacular ass. And she had an interesting, angled face with soft hair that curved around her jawline to brush her slim neck. Her mouth couldn’t be overlooked, not with those full, rose-colored lips that just begged for attention.
Definitely the mouth.
For all I know you’re a thief, a murderer, a kidnapper.
He felt himself tense. “What exactly did you tell her about me?” he asked again, his voice sharper this time.
His friend glanced over, and there might have been a touch of sympathy in the look, which Jack didn’t appreciate. He didn’t goddamn need it.
“Nothing much,” Liam said. “That you’re sixth in line for the Ardenian throne -”
“Seventh,” Jack cut in. “My oldest brother has another baby.” Their father had three sons by his first wife, Nadia. She’d died two years before Jack’s mother, Rayette June Crawford, a beauty queen from Fiddlecreek, Georgia, had traveled to Ardenia with a passel of her pageant buddies. The king had spotted the Miss Peaches & Pralines during her tour of the family’s castle in the capital city.
What Wilhelm wanted, Wilhelm expected to get, a trait he’d passed on to each of his children. Jack didn’t know what he and his sister, Roxy, had inherited from their mother. Perhaps the ability to offer a bless-your-heart smile while simultaneously wishing the recipient would roast in hell.
“Anything else?” he asked.
They came to a crossroads and he followed his friend to the right, toward the town of Edenville. They weren’t on a main road, but he had a good sense of direction. Even without one, it was hard to get lost in the Napa Valley, what with the Mayacama Mountains on the western side and the Vaca Mountains to the east. All around them, though, were vineyards. At this time of year, despite their sheer numbers, the vines looked almost … lonely without the adornment of foliage or fruit.
In a few weeks, he remembered, wild mustard plants would add their splash of golden yellow between the rows. But now there was nothing but the stark beauty of the sleeping vines.
He was lagging behind his running buddy and his legs protested the burst of speed necessary to catch up. “Too much time at a desk,” he commented, coming shoulder-to-shoulder with Liam once more.
“I mentioned that to Stevie. That you’ve spent the last ten years doing anything but winemaking.”
In Jack’s college years, when he’d first met the Bennetts, he’d intended to work in the family’s Ardenian vineyards post-graduation. It was all he’d ever wanted. “I won’t ever go back to Ardenia,” he had said.
Though after a couple of years of near self-destruction while partying in various European capitals, he’d woken up with one hangover too many and decided to halt the non-stop clubbing and get an actual job. Even then, though, he’d bounced around Paris, Brussels, New York, and finally Atlanta, working with numbers, of all the crazy-ass things.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you need to stare at spreadsheets for the rest of your life.”
Jack shrugged. “I quit my last job. I’ll figure out the next thing after Roxy’s wedding.”
“I told Stevie that, too.” Liam wiped the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his faded Aggies sweatshirt. “There’s no more devoted older brother than you.”
Jack released a short laugh. “You know I’m no saint,” he answered, deciding that he needed to put in more miles each week, if after a mere twenty minutes his chest felt tight. “I owe my sister, big.”
Which was why, when he’d picked up on her concern about Stevie’s involvement with the upcoming wedding, he’d gone on instant alert. It had only taken a probing question or two to uncover the source of her disquiet - the other woman was Emerson’s ex. “You know why I’ll do anything to ensure Roxy’s happiness.”
“What’s going to make you happy, Jack?”
He ignored the question because he figured a full night’s sleep was as elusive as a cessation to the grinding guilt that still wore away at him. And years ago he’d given up on finding someone who’d unconditionally believe in him.
“Jack?” Liam prodded.
“What makes me happy never changes,” he said, a bullshit answer sliding out smoothly. “A good bottle of cab and a hot chick.”
Which had him thinking of Stevie Baci again - and this time he let himself, because why not indulge in the pleasant distraction? That’s what women were to him. He imagined a fire, glasses of ruby red liquid, her slender body wrapped in a silky robe and nothing else. When she sipped her wine, a drop would cling to her bottom lip and he’d lower his head to lick it from her mouth
The toot of a car horn startled him from his fantasy and he stumbled, nearly falling into the path of a second car. “What the hell … ?”
“Your brother-in-law to be,”
Liam said. “That a new BMW he’s driving?”
“Yeah.” He gazed after the sleek model speeding away. “Emerson seems to have a short attention span when it comes to cars…” Which brought him right back to Stevie. The truth was, he had a perfectly legit reason for asking Liam about her. She’d been the woman on Emerson Platt’s arm before the man had fallen for Jack’s little sister. And that past history should be his sole focus, because really, it was ridiculous to pursue a woman who’d taken a dislike of him. When it came to sex, he didn’t like to work that hard.
Still, he aroused her as much as she did him, though she would be unwilling to admit it, he was sure. There was only so much she could hide, however. With his hands on her he’d seen the heat of want in her eyes and that exciting thrum of her pulse against the thin skin of her throat.
Anger had been coursing through him at the time, but still he’d wanted to bend his head and soothe that flustered beat with his tongue. Or use his mouth to make a mark there, just because he could. Because he knew, despite herself, she’d let him.
Merde. There he went again, pondering the woman’s prickly, sexy appeal, when instead he should only be considering the threat to his sister’s wedding plans if Stevie got it into her head to go ex-girlfriend on Emerson during the next few weeks.
So find another focus, Jack, he warned himself, staring down at his running shoes.
That’s when he plowed into Liam.
He lurched back to keep his balance, blaming the brunette dominating his thoughts. “Damn woman,” he muttered.
“What’s that?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he muttered again. She was gone. Out of his head.
“I just bought this,” Liam said. “What do you think?”
Jack looked around, orienting himself. The lane they’d been running on had T’d into the two-lane highway that bordered the eastern mountains of the valley. Another quarter mile along it and they’d meet the turnoff to the main street of Edenville’s small downtown.
Here, though, was the seam between farmland and commercial enterprise. On the other side of the road was a gathering of utilitarian structures: a car repair service, some anonymous corrugated metal buildings, a stand of no-frill duplexes, while where he and Liam stood was a small, established vineyard.
Small? Established? It was postage stamp-sized, really, maybe two acres, and it was obvious that the fall’s fruit hadn’t been harvested. The detritus of untended grapes and withered leaves lay at the base of the vines in graying heaps.
He shot a look at his friend. “You bought this? Why?”
Liam shrugged. “The old man who owned it died last year and it finally came up for sale. I admired what he was trying to do - develop an artisan cabernet sauvignon from a single small vineyard.”
“It’s the size of my fingernail.” Not to mention one hell of a mess.
“Makes it more of a challenge, don’t you think?”
Jack looked back at Liam. The Bennetts ran a successful large winery and had other thriving business concerns as well. “You’re serious? You’re going to make a boutique wine?”
“Thinking about it.” He reached into the pouch of his sweatshirt to withdraw a set of keys, and tossed them to Jack. “Why don’t you look around, give me your opinion.”
“I haven’t had anything to do with winemaking since college graduation,” he protested.
“A good reason to start small.”
Jack looked down at the keys in his hand. “And these are to?”
Liam pointed to a building on the far side of the vines. Jack laughed. “A castle?” Because that was its style, complete with battlements, though it wasn’t any bigger than a small family home.
“The winery. Old Arnie had his quirks.”
Still staring at the stone building, Jack felt Liam turn away. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve got to get back. Take your time. Look around.”
“You’re just going to leave me here by myself?”
“If you want company, you can always take a stroll across the street,” Liam answered, nodding toward the structures across the way. Then he jogged off in the opposite direction.
Something told Jack not to look. But he didn’t hold out any longer than he’d held out asking about Stevie Baci two and a half miles back.
She was there. He caught a glimpse of her in the space between two metal buildings, where a gleaming black limo sat, the driver’s door open. Changing his position gave him a better view. With her back to him and one foot on the running board, the woman he’d banished from his thoughts leaned across the roof, rubbing a cloth along the lacquered finish. The breeze shifted and he figured she had the stereo playing because he heard Def Leppard’s heavy metal libido-stirrer, “Pour Some Sugar on Me.”
She still wore those red rubber boots over her skin-tight jeans, but the sweater was gone, replaced by a form-hugging blue T-shirt. The hem of it rode up as she leaned farther over the top of the car, baring that sweet spot between her waist and a low-riding band of denim.
Had he mentioned skin-tight jeans?
She was a concern. A possible threat to his sister’s future - no matter that she denied it. But also a hot, sweet temptation that with each passing moment buried itself deeper beneath his skin.
And there was nothing the least bit legitimate - or even casual - about the way his palms itched to slide along the curve of her perfect - perfectly naked ass.
Then He Kissed Me
3
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The first day of the new year was well into the afternoon when Stevie ran her older sister, Giuliana, to ground. Even then, it took recognizing Jules’s spill of dark hair. The flowing mass obscured her face as she sat with her head cradled on her forearms at a corner table in one of Edenville’s many coffee bars. In the Napa Valley, places that doled out caffeine had nearly as high a per-capita rate as those that poured wine every day from eleven A.M. to four P.M.
Her sister’s rag-doll pose halted Stevie for a moment, but then she made herself march forward. It was absolutely imperative to confront Jules about her promise to Emerson and his bride-to-be. Her sister must agree that someone else take charge of the upcoming wedding.
Stevie yanked out a chair, and the loud screech of legs against the floor caused Jules to jerk. Her head slowly rose.
“Ooh.” Stevie winced. The greenish pallor and heavy-lidded gaze were not a normal Jules appearance. “You must have tied one on last night, huh?”
Which was only odder. The oldest Baci sibling rarely let anything get the best of her.
Sinking into the seat opposite, Stevie nudged the large latté mug on the table closer to her sister’s lifeless hand. “We need to talk.”
Jules’s head dropped back to her arms. “Not now,” she mumbled.
“Giuliana -”
“Go ‘way.” Her fingers twitched in a slight shooing motion. “Later.”
Except there was no time like the present, Stevie decided. Jules in the vulnerable state of hangover might be easier to reason with. Better yet, she might quickly accede to Stevie’s demands just to get rid of her.
“This will only take a minute,” she started, then broke off when a large body slid onto the chair beside her sister. Her jaw dropped. “Kohl?”
With a light touch, startling from a guy who was over six feet of wide shoulders and muscled thighs, he tucked Jules’s hair behind her ear. “A scone,” he said, his usual growl of a voice soft. His eyes were only for the near-comatose woman. “You need to eat something,” he told her, placing a thick plate on the table.
Stevie stared. Kohl Friday was the vineyard manager at the family winery. An Iraq War veteran, since his return to civilian life he’d been most notable for his deep silences and more-than-occasional barroom brawls. He’d been a hothead since childhood - who could blame him after being saddled with the first name Kohlrabi by his hippie parents? - but lately yo
u could practically hear his personal time-bomb ticking.
Yet now he seemed … tender toward Jules.
“C’mon, honey,” he urged.
Honey? Stevie shook herself as her sister once again lifted her head. This time Jules straightened to a sit, and then managed to bring the latté mug to her lips.
“Good,” Kohl said in quiet approval. “Now a little food.”
She was chewing her second bite when Stevie got over her surprise enough to remember her purpose. “Look, Jules,” she said, “we need to have a conversation.”
The new Kohl sent her an old-Kohl dark look. “She’s not up to a talk.”
Okay, she’d known him all her life and he was the older sibling of her good friends Man and Zinnia, but he wasn’t her big brother. Not to mention that Stevie had resolved that men were not going to impact her in the new year. “This is between me and Jules, and -”
A phone trilled. Giuliana fumbled in the kangaroo pouch of her hoodie and yanked out her cell. “Allie,” she murmured, staring at the screen. With a toss, she passed the phone to Stevie.
“Hey!” she started to protest, then subsided. The fact was, the situation involved Stevie, Jules, and Allie. Surely her younger sister would side with her on this issue.
It took a few minutes to get an update on her sister’s condition. Allie’s husband Penn had already reported on the success of the day before’s surgery, but it was good to hear Alessandra’s own voice. She sounded remarkably chipper, but since her marriage, she’d been almost annoyingly happy. Her mood dipped, though, when Stevie played snitch and said their older sister was hungover with a capital H.
“Jules?” Allie’s voice sharpened. “Our family paragon?”
“Yep.” Though she understood her sister’s doubt. Since birth, Giuliana had been the proverbial perfect child, just as Allie had always been the pampered baby sister.
Leaving Stevie relegated to the role of family screw-up.
Their mother’s voice echoed in her head.
Can’t you keep clean for five minutes?
Lower your voice, Stephania.
Then He Kissed Me Page 3