Who's the Boss Now?

by Susannah Erwin

  The first option was out. She loved working at St. Isadore. And now she had far more responsibility than she’d had as Linus’s assistant. She called the shots when it came to winemaking, now that Casper was gone. Evan gave her free reign to be as creative as she wanted to be. He may hold the purse strings, but when it came to the winery, she called the shots.

  She doubted Evan would agree to the second option. Nor did she want him to.

  That left the third. But while she was excited—well, excited and scared—to explore more fully the chemistry that exploded every time Evan was near, she was petrified to tell him her entire history with St. Isadore. Would he suspect her interest in him was driven solely by the prospect of material gain?

  She’d like to think not. But then, once upon a time she believed Casper was a trusted mentor and Linus supported her aspirations. She was wrong on both accounts. Did she dare trust Evan? Not only with her future and her family’s legacy, but with all of her?

  Maybe she didn’t need to own the vineyard to fulfill her ambition. Maybe what she had right now was enough. Enough that she could still achieve her long-cherished goal of restoring the Delacroix name in winemaking and, perhaps, create a new dream. One that involved Evan Fletcher, his dark curly hair and broad shoulders and firm lips she wanted to kiss for hours on end and...

  She stood up. She should get dressed and start her day. She didn’t need to puzzle everything out right away. Evan was in San Francisco and would probably stay there until the following weekend. She had plenty of time to—

  A rap at her front door interrupted her thoughts. “Now you knock?” she called, crossing to open the door. “Why not use your key—oh.”

  Evan stood on the front step. She drank in his appearance. He wore khaki trousers and a hunter green button-down shirt that turned his hazel pupils to deep jade. But lines of exhaustion furrowed his forehead.

  “I thought a knock was more polite.” He glanced at her, then quickly looked away toward the colorful potted plants that lined the courtyard. “Sorry. I should have called first.”

  “I thought you were Aracely. She was just here.” She clutched her robe closed at the throat. Why was he at her apartment? On a Saturday morning?

  He nodded, scratching the back of his neck, his eyes still averted. “This was probably a bad idea. I’ll go, give you your privacy.”

  “Wait—I thought you were playing golf this weekend. With the supplier. Is something wrong?”

  “No. Yes. I mean, I was supposed to play, but...” He took in her bare legs, his gaze lingering on the sash loosely tied at her waist. “After yesterday and we... You know what? Let’s discuss it later.”

  They could. They could talk in her office on Monday. She could offer to quit or he could fire her temporarily, although Aracely was right. The game didn’t change reality.

  Or she could put the third option she had just been mulling into motion. Now.

  She let go of her robe and opened the door wider. “Come in. There are still a few doughnuts left, and I can make fresh coffee.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Maybe when you’re dressed.”

  “Please. You’re right. We should talk. We need to set some new rules.”

  “Right now, with you looking that way, there won’t be much talking. The only rules I want to discuss is how to break them. For good.”

  His words were all it took. She let go of the door, winding her arms around his neck to bring his head to hers. Then she kissed him, hard, and let go. “Great. I feel the same way. Now, will you please come inside before we scandalize the neighbors?”

  He smiled for the first time since he’d arrived as he pulled her tight against him. “Nico spent the night at Gabi’s, so I’m the only neighbor. Scandalize me as much as you want.”

  “That’s the plan,” she whispered against his lips. And she kissed him again. Softly this time. Taking her time. Inviting him to stay and explore, much like he had the night before. Only this time...

  His lips were still, just for a second. Then he opened to her and she wasn’t sure who was kissing who, who was taking the lead and who was eagerly following. Tension pooled in her center, melting her limbs, and she locked her arms around his neck so she wouldn’t be prone on the courtyard flagstones.

  His mouth was hot, insistent. One of his hands traveled from her waist to wrap around the back of her head. She relaxed into his hold, intent on making him relinquish the rigid control she could sense was keeping him from fully letting go. Unlike their earlier kisses, there was no reason to hold back. No need to pretend.

  She rose up on her bare toes, her robe falling open, her breasts and stomach pressing against him. She wriggled, seeking out the hard ridge in his trousers. “This is what I wanted to happen the first time I kissed you.”

  “This is what I wanted when you fell on top of me in the kitchen,” he growled, and she laughed as he nuzzled her ear, her throat. Then his hand slipped inside her robe to find her right breast, his thumb weaving worshipful circles around it, and laughter was forgotten.

  “If we don’t go to my bedroom right now—” She gasped as his hand moved lower, brushing over her abdomen, trailing lightning storms in its wake—”I’m going to scream and scare anyone out in the vineyards.”

  He laughed against the side of her neck. “A bed might be nice.” He reached around her for the doorknob. Then he frowned.

  “What’s wrong?” She turned in his arms and tried the door herself. “What the—? How is this possible?” But even as she asked the question, she knew how. She hadn’t unlocked the door from the inside. They were locked out.

  “I don’t suppose you have a hidden key out here?” he asked. “An open window?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t suppose you have your set of keys?”

  “I’ve dreamed of being in your bed, but only if invited. So no, don’t have them on me.”

  “Argh.” She rattled the door again.

  “It’s okay. This is probably for the best, all things considered. I’ll go to the main residence and get the key ring. Then you can get dressed, we can go out for breakfast and talk.” He lifted her right hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss into her palm.

  But she’d be damned if she let this encounter be swept under the rug. Let it be chalked up to “we’re just friendly work colleagues who sometimes get carried away but then remember who we are.”

  “I’ve already had breakfast.” She caught his gaze, insisting that he really see her. “I want you.”

  Still keeping her gaze locked on his, she undid the belt of her robe, letting it fall open. Then she shrugged it off her shoulders. It pooled at her feet, leaving her bare.

  His gaze darkened despite the bright morning sun. In his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbed.

  “Did you know I’m the happiest when I’m outdoors? It’s my favorite place to be.” She stretched, her arms reaching to the blue sky above.

  The air shifted. She could smell the change. “It’s beginning to be my favorite, too,” he said, his gaze drinking her in, lingering on her breasts, the curve of her stomach, the nest of curls at the juncture of her thighs.

  She smiled, enjoying his reaction, and leaned up to kiss him anew. Then she pulled back slightly.

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Second thoughts after all?”

  “No. But before we go further, maybe we should discuss past partners? Healthwise?”

  He shook his head. “Last real date I had was before I bought St. Isadore. Clean bill since.”

  “I haven’t been on date in over a year. All good at my last exam.” She kissed Evan, and he groaned into her mouth, their tongues exploring and tangling as she unbuttoned his shirt and tugged it free of his trousers. Her hands traveled across his lightly furred chest, her fingers rubbing across his flat nipples before finding the trail that led down his six-pack abs to the waistb
and of his khakis. Then they traveled lower and she gasped, gulping in air as she learned the size and the heat and the steely hardness contained within.

  Soon his hands were helping hers and before she knew it, he had divested himself of his clothes. She stepped back, for only a second, so her eyes could enjoy what her touch already told her: it was the most magnificent erection she’d ever witnessed. Then she fell to her knees, her robe acting as a cushion, and took him into her mouth.

  Intimacy came in many forms. But of all the acts possible between partners, she enjoyed this one especially. Not just because she controlled Evan’s pleasure, using her mouth’s heat and wetness and pressure to discover what made him gasp, what made him groan, what made him dig his nails into his palms and strain not to lose all control. Not because she could also use her hands to caress and stroke, pinch and pull, learning what combination made him moan her name as a profane prayer.

  But because it was the most personal and private place to learn his scent.

  Evan overran her senses, bringing them achingly alive. She ran her tongue along his length then suckled on the satiny head, marveling as he swelled even more, his harsh breaths music to her ears. His hand fisted in her loose hair, and he gently urged her up.

  “My turn,” he said simply, kissing her deeply while guiding her to the courtyard bench.

  She’d always loved the bench. It was one of the things she’d missed most after Linus’s nephews threw her out of the carriage house. Trellises of grapevines surrounded it on three sides, meeting high overhead to make an arch. It was a favorite place to read or daydream or even take a nap.

  But when Evan tugged her down to sit on the bench, then knelt before her, using his mouth...

  Dear heavens, his mouth. His talented, wicked, relentless mouth. He lapped and encircled and sucked, following her gasped directions, learning her cues, varying the rhythm and intensity, demanding she soar higher, faster. She tried to hold back, to savor the unreality of the moment—this was Evan between her legs, Evan worshipping her with his tongue, his fingers—but the pressure kept building and building until she had no choice but to come apart, every molecule fizzing and sparking.

  Evan guided her through the waves, gentle now, slower, and when she could finally open her eyes, he was there, holding her, gathering her into his lap as he sat on the bench, his shirt as his cushion. He had the most enormous, self-satisfied grin on his face.

  “Proud of yourself, aren’t you,” she muttered, but she was aware she probably wore the same expression.

  “You have no idea,” he breathed in her ear.

  “I hope you have a condom in your wallet.” She snuggled against his chest, the sunshine warm on her bare back.

  “As a matter of fact—”

  The sound of a car’s tires on the gravel drive leading to the carriage house penetrated the fog of pleasure blanketing Marguerite’s senses. She hopped off Evan’s lap. “Car. Someone is here.”

  He immediately understood. Bending down, he handed Marguerite her robe and then pulled on his trousers. He had one shoe on and was searching for the other when they heard the gate to the courtyard opening. Marguerite sprang in front of him to intercept their guest.

  Aracely came around the corner, her gaze locked on her phone. When she looked up, she froze in place for a minute, then gave a tiny smirk that gradually grew to encompass her entire expression.

  “Hi,” Marguerite said, begging Aracely with her gaze not to mention the obvious. “Meeting over so soon?”

  Aracely cleared her throat. “Did I leave my portfolio here this morning? I seem to have misplaced it. Hello, Evan.”

  “Hi,” he returned, putting his second shoe on.

  “I don’t think you left anything. Or at least I didn’t notice,” Marguerite said.

  “You do seem rather...preoccupied.” She glanced at the door and raised her eyebrows in a question.

  Marguerite continued to stare her down.

  “May I look for it?” Aracely said. “Inside?”

  “Oh, sure.” Marguerite exhaled. The key. Aracely had a key. “Be my guest.”

  Aracely’s narrowed gaze ping-ponged between Marguerite and Evan. “I will,” she said slowly. “I will be inside for fifteen minutes.”

  “Okay,” Marguerite agreed. “Take your time.”

  “The time is not for me. It is for you, so you know how long you have to make yourselves more presentable.” Aracely swept past them and unlocked the door. She turned around before entering. “There are socks underneath the bench and what appears to be boxer shorts in the trellis.”

  Aracely shut the door behind her with a decided slam. At the sound, the nervous giggles Marguerite had been struggling to contain broke free, and she collapsed with laughter. Evan joined in, his strong arms holding her up when she would have melted to the ground, and the courtyard rang with mirth.

  “This was not how I anticipated my morning to go,” Marguerite finally said, wiping tears from her eyes.

  “I didn’t anticipate it. Fantasized about it, maybe. But the reality was better.”

  Marguerite swallowed the last of her laughs and straightened up. “So. Um. Door is open,” she finished.

  “I see that.”

  She pulled her robe tight around her and tied the belt with a double knot. A ridiculous move, considering what they had just been up to. But she appreciated the armor, flimsy though it may be. “I can make the coffee I offered earlier.”

  “Marguerite.” Her name was both a caress and a warning.

  She glanced up from the contemplation of her bare feet to catch his gaze. She read—oh, she read so many things in his eyes. Desire and hope and happiness, but also not a little trepidation. It matched the apprehension threatening to swamp her stomach. “Yes?”

  “About that conversation.” He retrieved the missing articles of clothing and stuffed them in his pocket. “I’ve been thinking about next steps.”

  Her heart began to race again, but this time not only due to his physical proximity. Right. The conversation. “You mean other than the one we just took?”

  “Including the one we just took. You were pretty clear about not engaging in personal relationships at work. Are you okay with this?”

  “Pretty sure you could tell how okay I was.”

  He smiled. “I mean about continuing to work together. I don’t want people to get the wrong idea about us. That I coerced you into this.”

  She loved that he cared about her reputation. She loved him—no. She couldn’t fall in love with him. Or at least, she could never let him know it. She was aware of the power differential in their relationship. Until she could prove her claim on the Delacroix vineyard, Evan was the ultimate arbiter of St. Isadore’s future—although when it came to making day-to-day decisions about the winery, he ceded control to her. But if he knew how much she was starting to care about him, she would be utterly vulnerable.

  “Or maybe people will say you’re the victim, that I’m chasing you for your money,” she said lightly. “We can’t control what others think. But we’re also not wrong to worry.”

  “Which means...?”

  “Wine is big business but a small industry. We should continue to keep our distance at work and especially when we’re around other people. But that’s not too hard...” She reached up and kissed him, because she truly meant no sting in her next words, but he finished them for her.

  “That’s not too hard because I’m rarely here.” His mouth twisted. “Speaking of—” He stopped when Aracely appeared in the doorway, a leather portfolio case held high in one hand while the other covered her eyes.

  “I found it,” Aracely said. “May I safely exit now?”

  Marguerite laughed. “We’re decent. It’s safe to go into the courtyard again.”

  “Well...define decent,” Evan said, a devilish light in his gaze. Marguer
ite elbowed him in the side.

  “I do not want to know.” Aracely let the hand covering her eyes drop. “But Evan, if you are sticking around, at some point the three of us should sit down and go over the latest plans for the Global Leader Summit event.”

  “How about Monday afternoon?” he suggested.

  “Monday?” Marguerite turned to him. “You’re not heading back to the city?”

  He caressed her cheek with the back of his right hand. “The deal we’re pursuing is currently on hold. The investor I told you about, Angus Horne? He had a family emergency. I told Luke I was going to work from here until we can get back to the negotiating table.”

  You’re going to work remotely from here? Where is Evan Fletcher and what did you do to him?”

  He shrugged; his body language was the perfect picture of casual indifference, while his gaze was anything but that. She shivered. “I want to learn more about St. Isadore and wine. Someone suggested that might even help me get to know my brother.”

  “I can’t think of anything that would be better for St. Isadore.”

  “Just St. Isadore?”

  She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

  She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him in reply. As the kiss deepened and his grip tightened on her robe, she heard Aracely’s departing laughter ring through the courtyard. Then Evan commanded her full attention, and her senses could discern only him.

  Seven

  Marguerite reclined on the new leather sectional sofa, sinking into the overstuffed cushions as she watched Evan and Nico argue over who deserved the last piece of the meat lover’s pizza, ending with Nico offering to arm wrestle Evan for the spoils. Gabi caught her gaze and they shared an eye roll and head shake of commiseration over the men’s antics as the match began. But Marguerite also couldn’t help grinning. Evan and Nico competing to see who could cheat the most at arm wrestling was not something she’d ever expected to witness.