by Lee McKenzie
He groaned. “We need to do something about this.”
“About what?” She couldn’t imagine doing anything but prolonging the exquisite tingles that zipped through her body every time they connected.
“This. Here. This isn’t my style,” he said. “The first time I make love to a woman, I like it to be in a bed.”
In spite of what had almost happened, this wasn’t her style, either. Especially not on a countertop after closing time—or worse yet, on a filthy floor—like some kind of sleazy bar skank.
Her mother’s style? Unfortunately, yes.
Hers? No way in hell, no matter how aroused she was.
“And after the first time?” she asked.
He smiled suggestively. “After that, pretty much anything goes.”
The possibilities of being in bed with him made her shiver, but the reality of what she had almost done here freaked her out. He lowered his head and gave her long, lingering kiss, but he kept his hands to himself this time. “You could come home with me.” It wasn’t so much an invitation as a statement of fact.
She could. God knows she wanted to, but she didn’t do things like this. She could not sleep with a man on the first date. Or the second. When she was a kid, how many mornings had she been introduced to a stranger named Dave or Jim or…Buzz. The thought made her skin crawl. Never a last name, because her mother hadn’t bothered to find out what it was. The memories still made her stomach turn.
She shook her head and backed away. “I…no. I’m sorry. I can’t. It’s…it’s too soon.” Better to let him think she was a two-bit tease than know for sure she was an easy roll in the sack.
“Jess.” He grabbed her hands before she moved out of his reach. “It’s okay. There’s no pressure. I’m a patient man and I’ll wait till you’re ready.”
Right. She wanted to believe him, but other men had said much the same thing, right before they said they’d call. Only, they didn’t. No matter what men said, they weren’t interested in women who didn’t put out.
He threaded his fingers between hers. “I’ll call you next week—”
She must’ve done a lousy job of covering her disbelief, because he stopped talking and drew her back for another light kiss.
“When I say I’m going to call, I’ll call. You agreed to come home with me for Thanksgiving, remember? We’ll need to work out a time for me to pick you up.”
“You still want me to go with you?”
“More than ever.”
She wanted to believe him, more than anything.
Chapter Nine
Jess had never ridden in a Porsche before she met Michael, but she could get used it. She’d also never been invited to a real family Thanksgiving celebration. No, that wasn’t right. This was just the first time she’d accepted an invitation.
Early that morning, Michael had picked her up at her apartment because she hadn’t been able to think of a reason for being at the Whiskey Sour that early in the morning. Instead of letting him in when he buzzed, she had left him standing at the front door while she raced downstairs. She wasn’t embarrassed about living in such a small, sparsely furnished apartment, but she wasn’t ready to let him see it, either. If he was miffed, he didn’t let on. Instead, he lifted her overnight bag off her shoulder and gave her a bone-melting kiss. If that kiss was any indication, it was going to be quite a weekend.
Neither of them spoke while he maneuvered through traffic and onto the bridge. The silence felt a little awkward, but once they were out of the city, she relaxed and let herself enjoy the scenery. It had been ages since she’d had a chance to get away, and in spite of her apprehension about meeting Michael’s family, she intended to make the most of these two days.
“It’s beautiful up here,” she said.
“It’s my favorite place in the whole world,” he said. “It’s prettier in the summer when the vineyards are in leaf, but there’s something special about every season.”
“Have you always lived here?”
He smiled, but didn’t take his eyes off the road. “Born and raised. Third generation, actually.”
Wow. “It must be nice to have roots.”
That earned her a quick glance. “It’s something we have in common.”
She almost snorted, suspected their family backgrounds were about as different as they could be.
“We’re both running businesses that were started by our grandfathers,” he added.
She hadn’t thought of it that way, but he made a good point. She had a strong emotional attachment to her grandfather’s business. Maybe a little too strong, according to her friends.
His hand lightly touched her arm. “Jess?”
She looked up at him. “Mmm-hmm?”
“Does talking about your grandfather upset you?”
“No, not at all. You just reminded me of something a friend said a couple of weeks ago.”
He didn’t ask what that was, but somewhat to her surprise, she wanted to talk about it. He hadn’t said any more about buying the building on Folsom Street, most likely because he hadn’t, and she had a niggling feeling that he still thought he had a chance at buying hers, and she needed him to understand that wasn’t going to happen. “After my grandfather died and I inherited the bar, I had to make a choice. I could sell it and carry on with my life as it was, without Granddad, or I could quit teaching and keep his dream alive. At the time, it was a no-brainer.”
“And now?”
“My feelings haven’t changed.” She loved being her own boss—she just wished running the place was as easy as it had looked when her grandfather was doing it.
“Grandfathers have a way of making you want to follow in their footsteps. I used to tag along with mine around the vineyards and the winery. It always amazed me that he knew exactly when the grapes were ready to be picked, when the wine was ready to be bottled.”
“Is he still alive?”
“No. He died when I was in high school and my father took up the reins. Dad passed away eight years ago—heart attack—and that’s when I took over.”
“Do you know when the grapes need to be picked?” she asked.
He glanced at her again. “I’m sure I would have figured it out if I had to, but I hired an expert winemaker and I leave it to him to make that call.”
Must be nice. She’d love to hire people to do the things she wasn’t good at or didn’t enjoy doing. Like fixing the stupid toilets.
“You and Eric seem to be good friends,” he said. “How long has he worked for you?”
“I’ve known him since we were teenagers. His father used to be our cook, and Eric has worked there a lot longer than I have.” And he knew way more about running a bar than she did. “I don’t know how I would have managed without him.”
After that they fell into a comfortable silence. He drove the way she imagined he did everything—quickly and with confidence. His hands were light and firm on the steering wheel, and she found herself studying them often. The last time she’d been with him, those hands had done some magical things. Thinking about it now made her warm all over. She tore her gaze away and looked out the window at the scenery flashing by. She could have driven like this forever, but after a couple of turns that took them onto secondary roads, he took his foot off the accelerator and clicked on the turn signal.
“Here we are.” He swung off the road and through an open gate onto a long, hedge-lined driveway. That led them to a circular cobblestone parking area in front of a massive, two-story stucco building that could be either a really big house or a small hotel.
After he stopped the car, Jess sat up a little straighter, suddenly feeling a lot more nervous than expected. “This is your home?”
He slipped an arm around her shoulder. “Yes, it is. What do you think so far?”
“Um…wow. Very impressive.” And intimidating.
“We’re just a normal family.” He pressed a switch to release the trunk. “Come on. I’ll get our bags and then I’ll introdu
ce you to everyone.”
As she was climbing out of the car the front door flew open and a young man ran outside. “Mikey! Mikey!”
“Hi, Ben. Happy Thanksgiving.”
Ben pointed at her. “Who’s she?”
“This is my friend Jess.” He took her hand and tugged her toward the stairs. “I’d like you to meet my brother, Ben.”
“I have a dog,” Ben said.
Jess laughed, and at that moment she relaxed. “That’s great, Ben. What’s your dog’s name?”
“Poppy!” he shouted. “I’ll show you.” He rushed back inside, hollering the dog’s name at the top of his lungs.
She was still laughing when she looked up at Michael. “So it’s Mikey, is it?”
“Don’t even think about it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about your brother?”
He shrugged and put an arm around her shoulders. “I like to see how people react when they meet him.”
“Did I pass the test?”
“With flying colors.” Her reward was a light, tantalizing kiss. They were, after all, standing on the front steps of his family home and she couldn’t very well expect him to get too carried away, as much as she’d like it if he did.
“Michael?”
Michael slowly lifted his head and grinned at the woman in the doorway. “Hi, Mom.”
Jess’s heart took a downward dip in her chest and she couldn’t even guess how red her face must be.
“This is my friend Jess Bennett.” He tightened his hold on her shoulders. “Jess, I’d like you to meet my mother, Sophia Morgan.”
Sophia gave her a quick but thorough once-over, then she smiled broadly. “Welcome to our home, Jess. Happy Thanksgiving! Come in, come in. Are you hungry? Michael will take your bag upstairs while I get you something to eat. How was the drive? Not too much traffic, I hope.”
“Thank you.” She wasn’t sure what else to say because she had already lost track of half the woman’s questions. She glanced back at Michael, who just nodded and smiled. Was he saying that he had known his mother would approve? Whether Sophia did or not, she had taken this unorthodox first meeting in stride, and all Jess could think was thank goodness for that.
Sophia led her through an impressively large foyer, down a hallway and into the kitchen, which was really more like one of those great rooms Jess had seen in magazines and on TV decorating shows. The furniture and artwork had been carefully selected and arranged, and it all looked expensive.
“I’m still working on a few things for dinner. Have a seat here at the counter and I’ll get you something to eat.” She was a small dynamo of a woman with silvering hair and the same sharp, blue-eyed gaze as Michael.
The counter was a breakfast bar flanked by four upholstered stools that ran the length of a huge, granite-topped island. Jess took one of the stools and glanced at her watch. It wasn’t quite nine, barely past breakfast, and Sophia had only “a few things” left to do for dinner?
“What would you like?” she asked. “Coffee? Tea? Orange juice?” She slid a cloth-covered basket across the smooth granite surface. “Help yourself to an orange scone. They’re Michael’s favorite.”
“I’d love some coffee.” She glanced toward the hallway, hoping Michael would appear. He didn’t. She could hear Ben upstairs, still calling his dog.
Sophia filled a mug with coffee and set it in front of her, and that was quickly followed by a juice glass, a napkin, a small plate and a knife. “Cream and sugar?”
“Cream, please.” Jess was still having trouble keeping up.
Sophia set a small porcelain pitcher on the counter next to Jess’s coffee cup, along with a matching pot of jam. “Where did you and Michael meet?”
“We met at a friend’s wedding a couple of weeks ago.”
“I see.” She consulted an open cookbook on the counter. “I hope you like pumpkin pie.”
“Definitely.”
“Pop! Pop! Poppy!” Ben’s voice was getting closer.
A small white dog raced into the room, dog tags jangling on its red sparkly collar. Please let those be rhinestones. Michael and his brother were close behind.
“Poppy! See? I have a dog.”
“I see that. Is Poppy a boy dog or a girl dog?”
“Girl.” Ben scooped her into his arms. “Want to pet her?”
“I’d love to.” Jess stroked the fluffy white head.
“Good dog,” Ben said.
“She’s beautiful. Who looks after her?” Jess asked. “Me!”
Sophia gently placed her hand on her son’s arm. “Ben, please, no shouting in the house.”
Ben held a finger to his lips. “Ssshhh. No shouting.”
Jess repeated the gesture. “No shouting,” she said solemnly. “I’ll be good, I promise.”
He beamed at her. “I like you. What’s your name?”
“My name is Jess.”
“Hi, Jessie.”
Michael sat on the stool next to Jess and put his arm around her shoulders. “That’s Ben’s way of saying welcome to the family.”
Sophia looked at her and Michael, and Jess could have sworn her smile was also a stamp of approval. It was more likely the work of an overactive imagination on Jess’s part, but she decided she already liked Sophia. A lot.
Michael picked up a scone and took a bite. “You look tired, Mom. I hope you haven’t been overdoing things.” The concern in his voice was obvious.
So was the defensiveness in Sophia’s. “I might not be getting any younger, but I’m doing just fine, thank you very much.”
“Good to hear it,” he said, then he turned to Jess. “When you’ve finished your coffee, let’s take Ben and Poppy for a walk so my mother can work on her pies.”
“Thank you,” Sophia said. “Ben, you need to put on your jacket and gloves if you’re going for a walk.”
“Hot outside. I’m not cold.”
“It’s not hot, and you will be cold if you don’t dress properly.”
“Look, Ben. I’m wearing my jacket,” Jess said.
“Me, too!” He left the kitchen, apparently satisfied that a jacket was the way to go.
“Thank you.” Sophia slid the plate of scones closer to her. “Have something to eat before you go out.”
There was no saying no to this woman, so she helped herself to a warm scone, lightly flavored with orange and cinnamon, while Michael devoured a second. “Sophia, this is delicious.”
When she finished eating, Michael stood and held out his hand. She put her hand in his, unable to resist touching him, more than a little surprised that he was so openly affectionate, and intensely aware of his mother’s scrutiny. To say the past fifteen minutes had been bewildering, overwhelming and totally unexpected would be such an understatement.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like some help?” Jess asked. “I offered to bring something, but Michael said you had dinner covered.”
“Dinner is under control, thank you, dear. You run along with Michael and Ben. A little peace and quiet is all the help I need.”
Ben had taken his dog outside to wait. He had put on a dark blue hooded jacket and Poppy was on a leash that matched her collar.
“Poppy looks good in red,” Jess said to Ben.
“She got diamonds,” he said.
“I see that.”
Michael reached over a high gate and unlatched it from the other side, and they followed Ben and Poppy into the vineyard.
The sky was overcast but with no threat of rain. The air was heavy with a damp, earthy scent, and it was perfectly still and quiet, except for the sound of birds and Ben’s voice as he walked ahead of them, talking to his dog.
“This is amazing,” she said. “I wouldn’t have thought the vineyard would be so close to the house.”
“This is only one of our vineyards,” he said. “For as long as I’ve been involved in the business, we’ve leased others and bought grapes from several growers in the valley. In the last couple of years we’ve bou
ght a number of new vineyards, as well.”
She tried to think of intelligent-sounding questions to ask about the wine-making business, but she was distracted by Michael’s hand on hers, and her head was flooded with the crazy kinds of thoughts a teenager might have when she has a boyfriend for the first time. Which wasn’t exactly the case, but it wasn’t that far from the truth, either.
When will he kiss me again? Does bringing me to meet his family mean he’s serious? Does he really like me? Is he treating me like a girlfriend so I’ll sell the Whiskey Sour? Or is he just trying to get me into bed? Oh, God. Sophia had invited her into the kitchen and asked Michael to “take their bags upstairs.” Did he assume she would spend the night in his room? Is that what his mother expected? Michael had simply said they’d spend the night because dinner would go late and his mother had plenty of room. Judging by the size of the house, she also had plenty of rooms. Jess just hoped she’d have one to herself.
She looked up at him, wanting to ask and not knowing how.
“I’m glad you decided to come,” he said.
“I’m glad you invited me.” All week she’d been having second thoughts about coming here, but Rory and Paige had both said, “Go!” They’d called every day and gradually eroded her misgivings over spending the holiday here with the Morgan family. Rory had even shown up on Wednesday afternoon with an armload of clothes she could borrow.
Jess had insisted she was fine. “I already have the green sweater set and the pink top you gave me.”
Rory had been horrified. “He’s already seen you in those clothes. You don’t want him to think those are the only things you own.”
They pretty much were, but according to Rory, he didn’t need to know that. Even his mother had been dressed up and she was making a pie, so now Jess was glad she had listened to her friends. Other than those few new items, she really wouldn’t have had a thing to wear.
So here she was, decked out in a black-and-white houndstooth car coat with an emerald-green scarf and matching gloves. Okay, the gloves were still in her pocket, but Michael was doing a wonderful job of keeping one hand warm.
