A Taste of Passion ; Ambitious Seduction

by Chloe Blake

  “Are we going to go over this again?”

  His lips formed a flat line and his gaze dipped to her shirt. “You’re undressed under that thin T-shirt. Did he see you like this?”

  Normally she’d move to cover herself, but instead his accusatory tone made her want to stand her ground, even though she secretly prayed for his touch.

  “The dress was a little tight around my...upper body. And I was wearing a sweatshirt.”

  She winced as she awkwardly bent to rub her side, then froze when she realized Nic had moved closer, his brows drawn, inspecting the area she was trying to touch.

  “Tight here?” His warm palm covered the sore spot, and his thumb gently massaged circles through the T-shirt. She licked her lips and nodded, tightening her grip on the book for fear it would slip from her fingers.

  “Is that better?” She looked up, expecting to see a sexual look in his eye; instead, his serious gaze was trained on her side, intent on easing her pain. Her pain had definitely lessened, but had been replaced by a fierce, demanding arousal.

  Maya grabbed his wrist and moved his hand to her breast. He jerked and met her eyes, his mouth parting as she pushed herself further into his hand. With his gaze on hers, he cupped and squeezed her flesh, pulling the fabric taut, kneading with light circles that started a simultaneous pulsing between her legs.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it when his free hand filled with her other breast. Her eyes drifted shut, then reopened as he pulled his hands away, but only a heartbeat passed before she felt him under her shirt, skin to skin.

  He continued the erotic massage, gently pushing her back against the bookshelf. Both thumbs ran boldly over her budding nipples, and she gripped his shoulders to steady herself. The book she was holding hit the floor, but neither cared.

  He bent and shoved his body in between her legs, using the packed bookshelves to lift her feet from the floor. Then he kissed her roughly, like he was on the edge of losing control. Thoughts of Nathan, Daphne and her father were wiped way as she shoved her hands in his hair and ate at his mouth. It occurred to her that she should not wear a bra more often, and with the insistent erection nudging her inner thigh, she shouldn’t ever wear pants again, either.

  “Do you feel better?” he whispered, his mouth sliding over her lips and his thumbs slowly teasing the jutting tips of her breasts.

  “No,” she whispered.

  “No?” His head jerked back to look at her, his face cute with concern.

  “I’m aching in other places now. I want you inside me.” His worry melted into a sexy grin.

  “My pleasure, mademoiselle.”

  She mourned his hands leaving her, but reveled in their replacement on her hips as he lowered briefly to the floor and swiftly removed her leggings and panties. With an arm around her waist, he placed kisses in between her thighs, his tongue finding her warm and ready. She threw her head back and marveled at how swiftly he could make her build toward orgasm, but she gently pulled his head away and pulled him to stand. She wanted him inside her when she climaxed, which would be soon if he didn’t hurry.

  Her legs wrapped around his waist, and his forearms held her thighs as he unzipped and lowered his pants. She was vaguely aware that his phone fell from his pocket, but his mouth on her wiped all thoughts away. His hands gripped her thighs as a faint buzzing sounded from the floor. She glanced at the phone and whispered against his lips, “It’s your girlfriend.”

  “She is not my girlfriend. Look at me.” His voice was rough with sex, and she did as he commanded. He nudged at her core, easing slowly, so deliciously hard and gentle, filling her just a bit. Her eyes fluttered. “Look. At. Me.” His hands slid up to grip her bottom and her ears buzzed with anticipation.

  No, her ears buzzed with another call from Daphne.

  Nic’s head turned and Maya went cold. “You should get that.”

  His eyes went wide. “No, don’t let that distract you.”

  “It already has. Let me down.”

  His look was incredulous. “I’m inside you.”

  “Put me down, Nic.”

  Physical pain registered on his face as he pulled back and released her. Maya easily pulled on her leggings just as Nic pulled up his pants with difficulty. He walked to the desk, poured himself a glass of wine and downed it in one gulp.

  “Are you mad?”

  “Not at you,” he said over his shoulder. “At myself, maybe.”

  “I don’t want to feel like the other woman, that’s all.”

  He turned and gave her a pointed look. “You’re not the other woman. And I understand. Maybe it’s best that we don’t continue acting on our—” he took a deep breath “—attraction. You’ll be gone soon and my heart will be broken.”

  “I’m sure your heart will be just fine.”

  “You like to judge my comments. Why is that so hard to believe?”

  “In my experience, men are excellent liars.”

  “I have no reason to lie to you.” They stared at each other for a moment, and her blush embarrassed her.

  “Could you toss my sweatshirt over?”

  “Sure. Could you toss my phone over?”

  They made a game of exchanging items. She lobbed the offending technology and he caught it effortlessly. She fumbled her catch, and the fabric smothered her face. Their laughter eased what tension was left. She slipped on the sweatshirt.

  “Stanford,” he read. “That’s Ivy League, no?”

  “No, but it’s as prestigious as one. Surprised?”

  “No, I am not.” He opened his mouth, then closed it. Then tried again. “I want to explain about Daphne.”

  That was the last thing she wanted to talk about. Maya rapidly shook her head, scooped up the book from the floor and hugged it to her chest.

  “Um, maybe another time. It’s getting late and we have to get up early tomorrow.”

  “We do?”

  “Oh, yes. I met Remy Bernard and Benjamin Thomas. Both have wineries in the Loire Valley and might be interested in supplementing their production with a rosé line. Apparently, when the Hamptons ran out of rosé two years ago, no one saw the pinks as an opportunity. Now everyone is looking to produce rosé, and we are one of the few brokerages ready to supply.”

  “Almost ready,” Nic said offhandedly, then cocked his head as if he wasn’t hearing correctly. “You offered them the tempranillo?”

  “I offered them a tour and a look at the rosé. Obviously, we haven’t talked numbers, but I envision a bidding war, which will be amazing for business.”

  Nic’s eyes flared. “Those grapes are supposed to be exclusive for the Rhones.”

  “And who says they won’t be? But we have no contract, and handshake deals can be iffy. This could bring Rhone to the table now. Not later. Did you realize the fiscal year ends in a few weeks? We’ll—” she corrected herself “—you will have to start looking for funding, and with these numbers, no one would float you capital. And don’t forget, my shares won’t be for free. Unless Bacchus is prepared to help again?”

  Nic was frozen in his tracks. “Where did you come from?” he murmured.

  “Heaven?”

  His eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I was thinking.”

  Maya’s head jerked back. “You challenged me to get us clients. They are coming tomorrow at ten a.m. See you in the morning.”

  Maya gathered the leather book and her contract papers in her arms and left Nic standing there, half-naked, holding his phone.

  Chapter 10

  After a near sleepless night, Maya rolled herself out of bed and shuffled barefoot to the bathroom for a much-needed shower. Remy and Benny were arriving for a tour in a few hours, and she wanted to be on top of her game, or at least awake. She inhaled, then groaned. She also wanted to get the smell of Nic’s cologne off her skin. She sn
iffed her T-shirt. Damn him.

  Why did he have to be so attractive? After trying and failing to read the French writing of the leather diary she had taken from her father’s den, Maya tried to sleep knowing Nic was right next door. The fact that she refused to take off her T-shirt didn’t help. She was in and out of sleep, dreaming of strong arms and a hard chest, surrounded by the smell of spice and pine.

  But now she was ready to rid herself of the short-lived infatuation. Being attracted to someone was just a frame of mind. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder, right? So, as the beholder, she needed to change her perspective on “the beauty.” As of this moment, “the beauty” was hideous. She nodded at her newfound plan and grabbed the delicate eighteenth-century knob on the door. It wouldn’t budge.

  Strange, but that old lock had seen better days. She probably just had to pull a little harder. She did, to no avail, then shook the knob hard with both hands. She smiled when she heard a loud click as if she had loosened something within the door, then she blinked and backed away as the door pushed itself open with smooth force.

  “I’m almost finished,” said the wet, half-naked, clean-shaven god that half stepped around the door. She let go of the knob as if it burned, and dropped her gaze to the towel that covered his hips and the chiseled abs that she had touched only a few nights ago.

  “What are you doing in my bathroom?”

  “You mean our bathroom. It’s shared.”

  “What!” She stepped toward him—he smelled so good—and peered into his bedroom. The sheets were askew. “I thought that was a closet door.”

  “No. Now if you’ll excuse me.” His gaze raked over her before he closed the door. Then she ran to the wall mirror and almost cried at the state of her hair and the dried mascara on her face.

  “You better have left me some hot water!” she yelled. She only hoped that along with his smell, his image could be washed from her brain.

  An hour later she was suited and booted, sipping a cup of Nathan’s artisanal coffee. Her father’s protégé had gotten to the house early and whipped up breakfast bites and beverages for the meeting. Honestly, her own assistant could barely get to Starbucks. Former assistant, she reminded herself, tamping down the urge to call and check on her friends. No one had called her to find out what had happened, not even Carol. It reinforced her idea that quitting was the right thing to do.

  Her boss liked to say that they weren’t a company; they were family. But family didn’t treat you like a liability. Maya grabbed the diary from the table and walked over to Nathan. Family helped you succeed.

  “Nathan, I found this on my father’s bookshelf. Would you mind helping me translate it later?”

  Nathan took the book and flipped through the pages with interest. “Of course.”

  “Thank you.” A timer went off and Nathan put the book at the end of the counter while he pulled out peach tarts.

  “Nathan, merci. This will be wonderful for our guests.” Nic appeared in a casual sweater, jeans and work boots, making Maya frown.

  “This is what you’re wearing to our business meeting?”

  “They want a tour of the vineyard, right? You can’t do that in those.” He jerked his chin at her suede-heeled booties. “Unless you’d like to stay here while I show them around.”

  Maya narrowed her gaze and turned to Nathan. “I’ll be right back.” She hurried to her room and returned in the tall silver rain boots she’d learned to always pack after weeks of business in Seattle.

  “Très chic, ma chérie. Very appropriate,” Nathan said, loud enough for Nic to hear. Nic stared at the boots.

  “Oui, at least we’ll be able to spot you if you get lost.” He smirked at her and strode away, as cars could be heard arriving.

  While Nic took the men through the vineyard, Maya stayed in the back, trying to imagine her father standing between the vines, speaking passionately about his work. She was doing the right thing, she told herself. Being there, participating in the business, even if only a little, was better than just coming to France and claiming a payout and leaving. Her father had to have known that selling her shares was a possibility, right? Maybe that was even what he wanted. Like giving an American Express gift card instead of an actual gift.

  She inhaled and let the cool air fill her lungs as her gaze settled on the green expanse and the yellow horizon. Her unsatisfied arousal had kept her up most of the night, but she felt serene and energized and—she hadn’t taken her allergy pill. She put her hand on her chest and measured the beat of her heart. Steady and strong. She was puzzled but pleasantly surprised. Her mother always said that fresh air would do some good, but even her trip to Napa Valley several years ago had ended with her running to the drug store for her prescription.

  She might need one after she talked to her mother, she mused. The text she had woken up to—how’s it going?—rankled. There were holes in her mother’s story, and Maya was afraid to go down that road. She had never once questioned her mother’s explanation about her father’s exit, happy to lay blame on the absentee. But now she wasn’t so sure that was the right thing. But digging deeper might expose something that would make her angry at her mother, and maybe even at herself.

  Nathan appeared next to her with another mini croissant. She’d had five already, but what the hell, she told herself, taking the flaky morsel. She was practically hiking.

  Their clients touched the leaves and fingered the young grapes as Nic continued to talk pest control, harvest and expectation of taste and color. She remembered the pictures of her father. Then she imagined a little girl running down the rows in wellies and a muddy dress, giggling when her father caught her and tossed her in the air. Maya, her father said, kissing her on the cheek. Maya...

  “Maya?”

  The deep voice ripped her from the daydream. She blinked and spun around, facing the men’s questioning looks as they lingered in the doorway of the house. “Coming?”

  She fell into step, checking the time and calculating the time difference in California. Her mother wouldn’t be awake for another few hours.

  The group settled in the tasting room, where Remy and Benny regaled their audience with plans for their wines. The two were obviously friends who thrived on besting one another.

  Nathan poured them all a sample of the reds the vineyard was still producing: a medium-bodied Pinot Noir and a light Gamay. She watched and followed Nic’s lead, swishing and sniffing, checking the color then tasting.

  Benny held up his glass. “Nic, my boy, you’ve kept things up well here. I’m glad you have decided to keep the business. I must say I was surprised when you mentioned selling last we spoke, but it looks like you’ve reconsidered. Your father would be proud.”

  Maya didn’t miss Nic’s glance at her, or the way he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. She knew it—he had plans for this place and it had nothing to do with grapes. But the question was, why did she care? She’d be back in LA next week—she sighed—looking for a job. Or maybe with the money from selling her shares, she could finally start her own business. Her business card could read North Consulting, CEO.

  “Unfortunately, because I thought you were selling, I’ve contracted for some lovely Pinot strains from the Van Dames.”

  Maya was pulled from her thoughts again. Tannins, wine color, taste, she knew nothing about. But competition? Bring it on.

  “Who are the Van Dames?” she asked softly.

  Remy chimed in. “They’re another brokerage we’ve done some work with in the past, but I must say, they didn’t compare to the business both of your fathers built here.”

  Maya saw Nic’s gaze hit the ground as Benny jumped in. “They are strictly brokerage, which is why Par Le Bouquet had an edge. Not only did your father produce quality grapes, he knew where to find the best.”

  “We still do, as you’ve seen outside. And have tasted.” Maya held up her
glass.

  Remy raised his in salute. “Touché.”

  “And since you both want the best grapes, I think it’s time you came back home. I’d be willing to match your price with the Van Dames and give you a welcome-back discount.”

  All looked at her with raised brows, even Nic.

  “That is generous. But the Van Dames have promised they will be getting me grapes from Dechamps.” Benny sounded innocent, but there was a devious glint in his eye. He knew that information would be a blow. Maya chewed her lip as Nic’s brows dropped into a frown. He straightened in his chair. “My uncle is doing business with the Van Dames?”

  Benny shrugged. “Apparently. You know Armand. He’d sell his firstborn to make money. Mon Dieu, he almost did!”

  The two men were laughing so hard Maya was afraid they’d have heart attacks. She turned to Nathan and made a face. Nathan leaned over her shoulder and spoke softly.

  “Armand Dechamps almost sold his son Destin’s vineyard in Brazil out from under him. It was a nasty fight that caused a bit of a rift between Nic and Destin because Armand threatened to take his business elsewhere if Nic helped Destin rebuild his winery. Nic had promised Destin capital, then he had to pull the money.”

  “Sounds ugly,” she whispered.

  “It was. All is well now though,” he said before leaning away.

  By the look on Nic’s face, it didn’t seem like all was well. And by the mirth in Benny’s eyes, he had been dying to drop that knowledge all morning. Maya waved Nathan back over and whispered, “What is going on?”

  Nathan shrugged. “Armand rarely overproduces, but when he does, he calls Nic.”

  “But not this time?”

  Again, Nathan’s shoulders touched his ears. Maya decided to do what she did best.

  “Curious. When Nic spoke to Armand last night, he said he didn’t have extra Pinot. But he did invite us to the vineyard to discuss the extra cab franc. Right, Nic?”

  Maya’s gaze bored into Nic’s confused eyes until he figured out how to speak. “Erm, oui?”