The Vintner's Vixen (River Hill Book 1)

by Rebecca Norinne

  “You were on a roll,” Max said, winding his way through the other tables toward the diner’s exit. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you that bent out of shape about a woman.”

  Noah followed Max to his car. If he was lucky, once Max dropped him to pick up his truck, he’d be home before midnight. Noah needed at least five hours of sleep a night to function properly the next day, and he had an important meeting with his vineyard manager at eight to go over some soil readings on the vines that had been planted on Angelica’s property.

  Angelica.

  “Yeah, that woman gets under my skin like no one ever has,” he told his friend.

  “I kind of got that.” Max chuckled, but then sobered. “You had a lot to say about her.”

  “I was probably talking out my ass.”

  Max climbed in the driver’s seat and turned the ignition. Once Noah slid in next to him, he agreed. “You were. What’s your deal anyway?”

  Noah’s mind flashed to Angelica’s naked body pressed up against the tiles of his shower, and the way her thighs had clenched around his head while he pleasured her from his knees. He shook his head to dislodge the erotic image. “I honestly don’t know. I mean, we’re fucking—”

  “You don’t say,” Max interrupted.

  In the dark, Noah shot his friend a dirty look he wouldn’t see, and then continued trying to describe his ... relationship … with Angelica. “Sometimes I think she’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, and then at other times I want to wring her pretty little neck.”

  “Like tonight?”

  “Yeah, like tonight.”

  “Anything specific?”

  “Ugh. You know how she’s doing that renovation show?”

  “Yeah, the crew eats at Frankie’s at least twice a week.”

  “Well, today she told me the mayor and the town council want her to film parts of River Hill for the series as well.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Max asked as he turned down road that would take them back to The Hut.

  Noah groaned. “You know as well as I do how it’ll play out.”

  “More tourists?”

  “Exactly.”

  Max pulled up alongside Noah’s truck and shut off the car. “And how is that bad again?”

  Noah laughed cynically. “Oh, come on. Don’t pretend you don’t know why I don’t want that to happen.”

  “I don’t have to pretend. No matter how I look at it, I can’t see the downside. More tourists translates into more money for local businesses. More money equals better services for River Hill. As far as I’m concerned, if Angelica’s show puts more butts in the seats at my restaurant, I’m all for it. I honestly don’t see a downside.”

  “Wine buses. Bachelorette parties. People showing up drunk off their faces ten minutes before closing, expecting me to open my most expensive bottles of wine, then spilling it all over, and not having the decency to even buy a fucking bottle.”

  It wasn’t hyperbole or hangover talking. Noah had seen it happen at his father’s tasting room more than once when he was younger and still learning the trade. He’d never forgotten the drunk brides who’d thrown themselves at him to try and get in one last hurrah before they walked down the aisle. And he’d certainly never forget the one who’d emptied the contents of her stomach all over the bar, splattering vomit all over his shirt. That kind of behavior might fly with other wineries who relied on drunk tourists to pad their bottom line, but Noah wanted nothing to do with it. He was here for the sheer joy of creating great wine, and he wanted the people who came to his tasting room to feel that way, too. That was why he’d opened his tasting room in River Hill instead of in one of the larger, more tourist-friendly towns further inland.

  But Max wasn’t having any of it. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “I assure you, I’m not.”

  “You do realize you don’t have to open your winery up to buses and large parties just because River Hill might get its fifteen minutes of fame, right?”

  When Noah didn’t answer, Max pressed further. “Given your silence, I’m guessing there’s something else you’re not saying.”

  Noah stewed on it for a few moments. While he hated to imagine his winery turning into a carbon copy of his father’s, Max was right. He bristled at the idea of River Hill being overrun with tourists and his favorite haunts being changed to accommodate them, but that might happen even without Angelica’s show. The truth was, no wine country town was immune to that possibility.

  So what was his problem then?

  His conversation with Angelica kept coming back to him—specifically, three little words she’d uttered. My personal brand. Logically, he knew she’d need to establish her B&B through word of mouth and travel sites for it to be successful. He wasn’t opposed to that. But Noah had dated a few women who didn’t care what their actual lives were like so long as their online presence showed something that was perfect and enviable. Their brands, they’d all called it. In that world, likes and hearts equaled endorsements and sponsorship opportunities that were more important than actual conversations and shared interests. Everyone was your friend when no one really was. He wanted nothing to do with any of it.

  The most disappointing part of this was he hadn’t pegged Angelica for one of those types of women, but maybe he’d been wrong. And if he was, soon she’d try to cash in on his family’s name, too. It had happened more times than he could count over the years. Aside from Naomi, he couldn’t name one woman he’d been involved with who hadn’t wanted to boast about the famous Blackstone name to push her own self-interests. And that’s what had him most on edge, he realized. He’d run far away from San Francisco to get away from women like that. River Hill was supposed to be his safe place, where he could lead the type of life he wanted, away from everything he’d turned his back on.

  But this wasn’t a conversation he was going to have with Max. At least not yet. First, he needed to talk to Angelica and make sure she knew, in no uncertain terms, that he was not for sale. His name was not for sale. And if she thought it was, they were through. No sex—no matter how magnificent—was worth his pride.

  Noah pushed open the door and unbuckled his belt. “Nope, that’s it,” he said, climbing out and shutting the door.

  Noah clipped Molly’s leash to the shelf inside his mudroom and went to lock up when he spied Angelica’s kitchen light glowing across the field like a beacon in the pitch black. Checking his watch, he saw it was nearly midnight. He should go upstairs to bed, but that yellow orb—and the woman inside—beckoned to him like a siren. Noah shrugged back into his coat and locked the back door. He didn’t need to, but old habits died hard. He’d never left the door to his place in SoMa unlocked, either, despite the fact that it was a secure building with a 24-hour doorman.

  When he reached Angelica’s porch, his heart was racing, but it wasn’t from the brisk walk through the vines and up her long drive. He had so much to say, but he didn’t know where to begin. Before he could put his thoughts in order, Angelica opened the door, her perfect curves illuminated by the soft, warm glow from the lamp a few feet behind her.

  “Noah?” She clutched the sides of her faded terry cloth robe closed around her middle.

  Dragging his eyes away from the soft mounds of her unbound breasts, he swallowed. “We need to talk.”

  “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “And yet we’re both awake.”

  “I was going back up to bed. I only came down for some water.”

  “I won’t keep you,” he said. He needed to get this over with; just say what he’d come to say. Because the longer he was in Angelica’s presence, the harder it was to remember his earlier convictions. “Can I come in?”

  Her brows drawn in confusion, she moved aside, and Noah stepped over the threshold. The door closed behind him and when he turned, she was leaning back against it, her palms flat on the wood. “You look upset.”

  “I’m not upset,” he said, more
forcefully than he’d intended. Wordlessly, Angelica tipped her head toward his clenched fists. Okay, maybe he was upset. Loosening his fingers, he repeated his earlier statement. “We need to talk.”

  “So talk.”

  Without conscious thought, Noah took a step toward her. “I don’t want you to film the Harvest Festival for your show.”

  Her chin jutted forward, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I really don’t think that’s up to you.”

  Noah huffed. “I figured you’d say that.”

  “Then why bother coming here?” she asked, pushing off the door and taking a step forward.

  He took two steps closer. “Because I needed to see if I was right.”

  “And were you?” she asked. Noah didn’t answer right away, his eyes glued to her chest, which was rising and falling with rapid breaths that were probably fueled by barely-suppressed rage. “Hey! I’m up here.”

  Without shame, Noah took in her bounty, the soft peaks and valleys he knew by heart, until his eyes swept upward to meet her glare. “Yeah, but for how much longer?”

  Angelica’s head snapped back. She breathed in deeply, twice, then took an angry step forward until they were close enough that Noah could smell the faint scent of her toothpaste with each exhalation. “What the hell does that mean?”

  He reached out and brushed her hair off her shoulder. “Exactly what you think it means. What’s your endgame here, Angelica?”

  She planted her small hands on his chest as if she was going to push him away, but then her fingers tangled in his shirt and she pulled him even closer. “I sank every dollar I have into this place. This house is my home. And River Hill is my home too, whether you like it or not.”

  “Good answer,” he murmured, his lips hovering over hers.

  “Was that some sort of test?”

  “I don’t know,” Noah said, his nose brushing against her petal soft skin. She smelled like jasmine and honey, and suddenly he didn’t care about this conversation anymore. He wanted to devour her. “Angelica?”

  “Yes?” she breathed out, the pulse point in her neck bouncing rapidly.

  “Are you as turned on as I am right now?”

  She chuckled, a rich, seductive sound, and her tongue darted out to lick a quick path over his lips. “I don’t know. Do you want me so bad you can’t stop thinking about ripping my clothes off and fucking me against this door?” Her hand dropped from his shirt to the uncomfortable bulge in his jeans. She cupped him and squeezed. “Do you want it so hard and fast that you still feel me on your skin in the morning?”

  In three long strides, Noah backed Angelica against the door. “Fuck yes,” he growled against her lips, claiming them in a searing kiss, all his anger, frustration, and desire for this woman spilling forth.

  Angelica ripped her mouth away. She captured his gaze as she undid his pants and pulled his cock free. “Then do it, Noah. Fuck me like you mean it.”

  Splitting the panels of her robe, he gripped the globes of Angelica’s ass and hefted her up around his hips. When her legs were wrapped tight around his waist, he drove into her hard and unforgiving. Just like she’d told him to. And when she came screaming his name, Noah followed her over the edge, his vision blurring and his legs shaking.

  Slowly, he set her on her feet. When he slid from her wet heat he realized they hadn’t used protection. “Shit, we didn’t use a condom.” Noah’s eyes swung to Angelica’s uncertainly. He was a fucking asshole. There was no excuse for what he’d just done. None, except for the fact that she made him crazy and when he was near her, he lost his goddamn mind.

  “It’s okay.” She sucked in a breath and exhaled slowly before adding, “I have an IUD.”

  He nodded, accepting her word as truth. He might have a number of conflicting thoughts banging around in his head about her, but he knew Angelica wasn’t a liar.

  “I’m clean,” he offered, guilt gnawing at his belly. He hadn’t gone bare since one stupid night in college. It was no wonder he’d nearly passed out when her walls had gripped him tight and she’d fluttered her completion along his dick.

  Angelica nodded and righted her robe. Stepping to the side, she tied the sash in a tight knot and smoothed her hands down the front of the fabric. “I think you should leave now,” she said, gripping the door handle and twisting it open. “We’ve both said enough for one night.”

  Noah didn’t argue. How could he? Instead, he raised her chin so she’d meet his eyes. “I’ll go, but this isn’t over.”

  Her eyes flicked between his and her mouth turned down in a frown. “No, I don’t expect it is.”

  That night, for all the tumult of his day, Noah slept the sleep of the dead, and when his alarm went off at dawn, the world didn’t seem quite as bleak as it had before. He wouldn’t go so far as to say a good hard fuck had solved their problems, but the way he’d felt when he’d emptied himself inside Angelica had certainly clarified a few things for him. The most surprising being that he might care about her almost as much as he did his beloved River Hill.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Ugh. I hate these things.” Angelica fidgeted, smoothing invisible wrinkles out of the sparkling gold fabric of her borrowed dress.

  Gold to make the advertisers think of money, Leah had said with a laugh when she’d brought it over the day before. Leah had a friend who created the costumes for a TV show set in high society, and the network’s budget was big enough that she didn’t have to scrimp on quality. Conveniently, Angelica happened to be the same size as the actress who played the villainess, something she preferred not to think about. All of the “good” characters wore a size two, of course.

  Angelica had never been a big enough name to have designers clamoring to dress her. And once she’d stopped starving herself to fit into sample sizes, she’d entered into an unspoken agreement with the fashion gods: she and high couture each politely pretended the other didn’t exist. When she’d officially retired from acting, she’d held a little ceremony where she’d burned the business cards from designers’ assistants she’d been collecting for years. It had felt good. Jai had been horrified, of course. She didn’t regret it, even though he’d been right in one respect: she did still need dresses occasionally. But she much preferred relying on the kindness of her friends—or to shell out her own money—than to beg for crumbs from snobby fashion folk.

  “I love these things,” Jai said, glancing around. “Look, tiny sandwiches!”

  “You’re just lucky I needed a date,” Angelica grumbled. “Greg would never have come with you to this thing.”

  Her agent patted her arm. “That’s why I’m married to him, and not you, darling. He has other compatible interests. And he doesn’t complain nearly as much.”

  “Can’t argue with you there.” Greg was a saint. How Jai had landed the shy architect was beyond her, and how the couple had stayed together for more than ten years was something she’d always envied. “It’s a good thing you have me. Wouldn’t want you to lose your edge over a lack of complaining in your life. Witty retorts are kind of your thing.”

  Jai snorted as they made their way to a good vantage point for people watching in the corner of the room. “Trust me, sugar, I’ll never experience a lack of complaining in this industry.”

  Jai’s client list ranged from ditzy to diva, and Angelica liked to think she was somewhere in the middle. He managed the entire roster with effortless ease, making him increasingly in demand. She was lucky to still have him, to be honest.

  “Okay, tell me the plan.” She forced her hands away from her waist. The dress fit perfectly. No adjusting needed. She tucked her hands around Jai’s elbow to force herself to stop fidgeting and looked into his eyes inquiringly.

  “Very nice.” He patted her hand. “These old white men are going to eat you up.”

  She shuddered. “I’d really rather they didn’t.”

  “Yes, I heard you’ve been busy being devoured by somebody else.” Jai grinned. “No secrets, Ang.
”

  She swallowed uncomfortably. She hadn’t talked to Noah since he’d come over to inexplicably yell at her and they’d wound up having sex instead. She’d meant to call him, but there’d been six different electrical problems and a countertop disaster to solve, plus filming and a promotional appearance. And it wasn’t like he’d called her either. The sex had been incredible—she could feel herself warming just thinking about it—but it hadn’t solved whatever bug he’d gotten up his ass about the Harvest Festival.

  “It’s just sex,” she said, waving away Jai’s speculative grin.

  Jai raised an eyebrow. “With that lumberjack who lives next door?”

  “He grows wine grapes, Jai. Just because he wears flannel shirts doesn’t mean he cuts down trees for a living.”

  Jai sniffed. “I’ll take your word for it. So why isn’t the not-lumberjack on your arm? Not that I don’t appreciate the opportunity.” He reached out with casual elegance and snagged two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter.

  Angelica took one. “Why would he be?”

  “No reason.” Jai side-eyed her over the rim of his glass as he sipped. “I mean, I know I’m beautiful, but if you wanted arm-candy—”

  “I’m here professionally, not for fun,” Angelica said sharply. “I don’t need arm-candy. Can we please talk about what we’re doing tonight instead?”

  “Fine.” Jai nodded toward a group of men in sharply tailored suits, being circled lazily by women in trailing, misty gowns that emphasized their youth. “Group one. Producers.”

  “No, thanks.” Angelica shook her head. “I’m putting all my eggs in one basket, Jai. I don’t want to cozy up to anybody for future work. Just this one show.”

  Her agent sighed. “Fine. Stay away from them, then. They’re terrible.” He tilted his glass toward several groups in succession, champagne sloshing but not spilling. “Car companies. Luxury winemakers. High-end fashion CEOs.” He squinted. “I think that’s the president of a cruise line. Take your pick.”