The Villa

by Nora Roberts

  Chapter Fifteen

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  Pilar approached the guest house by the back door. It was a friendly habit. She felt she had become friends with Theo. He was an interesting, and interested, young man once you chipped through the surface. A boy, she thought, who needed the softening influence of a mother.

  She was touched that he seemed to enjoy rather than resent her company when he came by the villa to use the pool. She'd managed to lure him up to the music room and have him play—or at least play around with—the piano. It had been an easy step from there to open up a dialogue, and a debate, over music.

  She hoped he was as entertained by them as she was.

  Maddy was a different matter. The girl was polite but consistently cool. And watched, Pilar thought, everything and everyone. It wasn't resentment so much as a measuring. A measuring, Pilar knew, that was directly connected to her relationship with Maddy's father.

  That aspect appeared to have gone straight over Theo's head. But Pilar recognized the female-to-female judgment in Maddy's eyes. So far, she hadn't come up to snuff.

  Pilar wondered if David was as unaware as his son that Maddy was guarding her territory.

  She hitched her shoulder bag as she started up the back walk. The contents weren't bribes, she assured herself. Just tokens. And she wouldn't stay any longer than was comfortable for all of them. Though part of her hoped they'd want her to stay awhile. Fix them lunch, listen to their chatter.

  She so missed having someone to mother.

  If fate had dealt her another hand, she'd have had a houseful of children, a big messy dog, ripped seams to sew, spats to referee.

  Instead she'd produced one bright and beautiful daughter who'd needed so little tending. And at forty-eight was reduced to nurturing flowers instead of the children she'd longed for.

  And self-pity, Pilar reminded herself, was unattractive. She knocked briskly on the kitchen door and had her smile ready.

  It wobbled a bit when David answered. He wore a work shirt and jeans, and held a cup of coffee. "Now this is handy." He took her hand to draw her inside. "I was just thinking about you."

  "I didn't expect you to be home."

  "Working out of here today." Because he wanted to, and because he knew it would fluster her, he kept her hand firm in his as he leaned down to kiss her.

  "Oh, well. When I didn't see the van—"

  "Theo and Maddy ganged up on me. Professional day, no school. Every parent's nightmare. We solved it by letting them nag me into giving Theo the keys and driving off to the mall and the movies for the day. Which is why your visit's perfectly timed."

  "Really?" She tugged her hand free, fiddled with the strap of her bag. "It is?"

  "Keeps me from sitting here imagining all the trouble they could get into. Want some coffee?"

  "No, I really should… I just stopped by to drop off a couple of things for the kids." It flustered her to be in the house alone with him. In all the time he'd been there, she'd managed to avoid that single event. "Maddy's so interested in the whole winemaking process, I thought she'd like to read about the history of Giambelli, California."

  Pilar tugged the book she'd picked up at the winery gift shop out of the bag.

  "Right up her alley. She'll appreciate it and pound Ty and me with brand-new questions."

  "She has an active mind."

  "Tell me about it."

  "I brought this sheet music along for Theo. He's so into the techno-rock business, but I thought he might get a kick out of trying some of the classics."

  "Sergeant Pepper." David studied the sheet. "Where'd you dig this up?"

  "I used to play it and drive my mother crazy. It was my job."

  "Did you wear love beads and bell-bottoms?" he teased.

  "Naturally. I made a terrific pair out of paisley when I was Maddy's age."

  "Made? So many hidden talents." He maneuvered her—it was simply a matter of shifting closer—until her back was to the kitchen counter. "You didn't bring me a present."

  "I didn't know you'd be here."

  "And now that I am?" He edged closer, laying his palms on the counter on either side of her. "Got anything in your bag for me?"

  "Sorry." She tried to laugh, to keep it light, but it was hard when she was strangling. "Next time. I really should get back to the winery. I'm helping with a tour this afternoon."

  "What time?"

  "Four-thirty."

  "Mmm." He glanced at the kitchen clock. "An hour and a half. I wonder what we could do with ninety minutes?"

  "I could fix you lunch."

  "I've got a better idea." And with his hands at her waist, he circled her slowly toward the inside door.

  "David."

  "Nobody home but you and me," he said, nibbling at her jaw, her throat, her mouth as he guided her out of the kitchen. "You know what I was thinking the other day?"

  "No." How could she? She didn't know what she was thinking right now.

  "That it's a complex business. My girlfriend lives with her mother."

  She did laugh now, at the idea of being called anyone's girlfriend.

  "And I live with my kids. No place to go to do all the things I've imagined doing with you. Do you know the things I've imagined doing with you?"

  "I'm getting the picture. David, it's the middle of the day."

  "The middle of the day." He paused at the base of the steps. "And an opportunity. I hate wasted opportunities, don't you?"

  She was walking up the steps with him, which seemed a miraculous feat to her, since her knees were knocking and her heart laboring as if she'd already scaled a mountain. "I wasn't expecting…" Her words kept becoming muffled against his mouth. "I'm not prepared."

  "Sweetheart, I'll take care of that."

  Take care of it? How could he arrange for her to be wearing sexy underwear, or turn the merciless daylight into the soft, flattering shadows of night? How could he…

  Then it struck her that he meant protection and made her feel giddy and foolish.

  "No, I didn't mean… David, I'm not young."

  "Neither am I." He eased back slightly at his bedroom door. Sweeping her inside wasn't the right way. She needed words, and maybe, he realized, so did he. "Pilar, I have a lot of complicated feelings for you. One that isn't complicated, for me, is that it's you I want. All there is of you."

  Nerves were swimming now, in a stream of heat. "David, you need to know. Tony was my first. And he was my last. It's been a very long time. And I'm… God. I'm so out of practice."

  "Knowing there hasn't been anyone else flatters me, Pilar." He brushed his lips over hers. "It humbles me." And again. "It excites me." His mouth came back to hers a third time in a kiss that trembled on the edge between seduction and demand.

  "Come to my bed." He guided her toward it, fascinated by the way their hearts hammered together. "Let me touch you. Touch me."

  "I can't get my breath." She struggled to gulp in air as he slipped her jacket off. "I know I'm tense, I'm sorry. I can't seem to relax."

  "I don't want you relaxed." He kept his eyes on hers as he unbuttoned her blouse, while his fingers whispered along exposed flesh. "Not this time. Put your hands on my shoulders, Pilar. Step out of your shoes."

  She was trembling, and so was he. Like the first time, he thought. For her. For him. And just as terrifying and tremendous.

  The late winter sun was a white wash of light through the windows. In the silence of the house he could hear every catch of her breath. When he skimmed his fingers lightly over her, she was all soft skin and quivers.

  "Smooth. Warm. Beautiful."

  He was making her believe his words. And if her fingers shook as she unbuttoned his shirt, he didn't seem to mind. If she jerked stupidly when his knuckles brushed her midriff, when he unhooked her trousers, he didn't sneer impatiently.

  And best of all, he didn't stop.

  His hands stroked her, slow and firm. It made her want to weep to be touched again. To fe
el again that gathering of heat in the belly, the long, liquid pulls that followed it. It seemed natural to lie back on the bed, to have his body, the hard weight of it, press down on hers.

  It seemed natural, and glorious, to finally give herself again.

  She forgot about the sunlight, and all the flaws it would reveal. And she reveled in the sensation of taking a mate.

  He didn't want to rush. But her hesitation had become eagerness. She moved under him, hips arching, hands touching with quick little bites and scrapes of her nails that aroused him beyond belief.

  He forgot about patience, and all the doubts he wanted to assuage. And feasted.

  Their fingers linked as they rolled over the bed, then broke apart to find new secrets to explore. His mouth closed over her breast, thrilling both of them. As the wave of pleasure swamped her, she crooned out his name, then moaned when his teeth tugged at her.

  The whip of power slashed through her, locked her on that glorious edge between excitement and release where the blood rages and the body yearns. She shuddered there, helplessly, and let the glory of every ache, every burn batter her.

  When his hand stroked down to find her, she was already hot, already wet.

  She exploded under him, too stunned to be embarrassed by the quick-trigger response, too shocked to resist the wild plunging of her own body. Her world went bright, blindingly, and she surrendered herself to the sudden urgency of his hands and mouth.

  Mine. The soft, damp skin that smelled of spring, the subtle curves, the eager and open response. He wanted to take all that was his now. To give all that he had. She moved with him, as if they'd come together, just this way, a thousand times. Reached for him as if her arms had always held him warm and close.

  There was more, so much more he wanted to show her, to take from her in this first exploration. But the need pumped madly through both of them and pounded at control.

  She watched him as he ranged himself over her again.

  Once more, her arms lifted, opened. And holding, she took him in.

  Arched to him, in welcome, closed around him in acceptance.

  They moved together in the sunlight, a pace that quickened, a need that pulsed, then plunged.

  She cried out, muffling the sound against the side of his throat. Tasted him there as her heart took the final leap.

  The sun was shining in San Francisco, too, but it only added dimension to Sophia's headache. She faced Kris across her desk. The worst of it was, in Sophia's opinion, the woman hadn't seen the termination coming. How she could have missed it, with all the warnings and directives, only added fuel to the fire that had brought them to this point.

  "You don't want to be here, Kris. You've made that clear."

  "I've done better work in this office than anyone else in the company. You know it, I know it. And you don't like it."

  "On the contrary, I've always respected your work."

  "That's bullshit."

  Sophia took a steadying breath, ordered herself to remain calm, to stay professional. "You have a great deal of talent, which I admire. What I don't admire, and what can no longer be tolerated or overlooked, is your deliberate rejection of company policy and your attitude toward authority."

  "You mean my attitude toward you."

  "Here's a bulletin for you. I am authority."

  "Because your name's Giambelli."

  "Whether or not that's the case isn't the issue, or any of your concern."

  "If Tony was still alive, you wouldn't be sitting behind that desk. I would."

  Sophia swallowed the bitterness that rose in her throat. "Is that how he got you into bed?" she said with a twist of amusement in her tone. "Promising you my job? That was clever of him, foolish of you. My father didn't run this company and had no weight here."

  "You saw to that. All three Giambelli women."

  "No, he saw to it. But that's beside the point. The fact is I'm head of this department, and you no longer work for me. You'll be given the standard termination package, including the full two weeks' salary. I want your office cleared of your personal property by the end of business today."

  They both got to their feet. Sophia had the impression that without the desk between them, Kris would have taken more than a verbal shot. It only showed how far their relationship had deteriorated that Sophia was sorry they couldn't go a couple of rounds.

  "That's fine. I have other offers. Everyone in the business knows who's the real power here, the creative power."

  "I hope you get just what you deserve at La Coeur," Sophia replied and watched Kris's jaw drop in surprise. "There are no secrets. But I'll warn you to remember the confidentiality clause you signed when you joined this firm. If you pass information about Giambelli to a competitor, you open yourself up for a lawsuit."

  "I don't need to pass anything on. Your upcoming campaign's ill-conceived and trite. It's an embarrassment."

  "Isn't it lucky, then, that you won't have to be associated with it anymore?" Sophia came around the desk now, passing close to Kris, almost hoping she'd strike out. When Sophia reached the door, she opened it. "I think we've said all we have to say to each other."

  "This department's going to sink because when I go, others will go with me. Let's see how far you and the farmer go on your own." Kris sauntered toward the door, paused for one smirk. "Tony and I had a good laugh over the two of you."

  "I'm shocked you took the time for humor or conversation."

  "He respected me," Kris shot back. "He knew who really ran this department. We had some interesting conversations about you. Bitch number three."

  Sophia's hand clamped down on Kris's arm. "So it was you. Petty vandalism, anonymous letters. You're lucky I don't have you arrested as well as fired."

  "Call a cop… then try to prove it. That'll give me one last laugh." She yanked her arm free, strolled away.

  Leaving her door open, Sophia went straight back to her desk and called security. She wanted Kris escorted from the building. Now that the first slap of temper had passed, she wasn't surprised that it had been Kris who'd defaced the heirlooms and sent the photograph.

  But it disgusted.

  Nothing she could do about it. Just as she couldn't do anything about files Kris might have already copied and taken out, but she could make certain there wasn't a last-minute foray.

  Far from satisfied, she sent for both P.J. and Trace.

  While she waited, she paced. While she paced, Tyler walked in.

  "I saw Kris steam down the hall," he commented, and dropped comfortably into a chair. "She called me a brain-dead, pussy-whipped farmer. I assume you're the pussy with the whip."

  "Shows what she knows. Your brain's alive and well, and so far you've been pretty damn resistant to the whip. God! I'm so pissed."

  "I figured it didn't go so well when I saw the tongues of fire shooting out of her ears."

  "I kept hoping she'd take a punch at me so I could flatten her. I'd feel a lot better right now if she had. She called me bitch number three. I'd like to show her what a genuine Italian bitch can do when pushed. Smearing nail polish on our angels, sending me anonymous mail."

  "Whoa, back up. What mail?"

  "Nothing." She waved a hand in the air, kept pacing.

  He snagged her hand, tugged it down. "What mail?"

  "Just a photo from a few months back—my mother, grandmother and me. She used a red pen this time, but the sentiment was the same as