No Ordinary Love

by Ann Christopher

  “It makes sense,” Baptiste said grudgingly, wondering why he felt so off-kilter today. So out of his element. Probably it was the jet lag catching up with him. “She liked the ring, did she? It was a very fine ring.”

  “She loved the ring, but I don’t think she was expecting anything like it. When I told her I’d brought her something from my trip, she actually thought it was a T-shirt. Or a snow globe.”

  Baptiste nearly choked on his surprise. “A T-shirt? From some sorry tourist shop that sells, I don’t know, postcards and refrigerator magnets? What is it with American women this week? I don’t understand them.”

  Daniel, who’d been pouring water into the coffee machine, paused and focused on Baptiste, his interest sharpening. “Is there a story there?”

  “No,” Baptiste snapped, taking great care about checking his nails.

  “Hang on. That reminds me.” Daniel clicked his fingers. “What happened at the Halloween party, Phantom of the Opera? Don’t tell me you got all dressed up for nothing.”

  Baptiste waved a hand, still trying to avoid Daniel’s gaze. What he didn’t need right now was this one sniffing after his secrets like a baying bloodhound.

  “It was fine.”

  “Why are you being cagey?”

  “I’m not cagey. I just don’t like to gossip.”

  “Since when?” Daniel studied him a little harder, then nodded sagely. “Shot you down, did she? After you made a fool of yourself in that costume? That’s why you look so gloomy. Now you’re stuck with a cape.”

  Baptiste felt his lips curl into a smirk and his face and ears burn as he thought of Samira arching beneath him as she came, his name on her lips.

  “She did not shoot me down.”

  “My man.” Daniel fist-bumped him, looking impressed. “So why the mood?”

  “She doesn’t want to see me again,” Baptiste said, trying not to sound petulant.

  Blank look from Daniel. “So? Isn’t that the definition of a perfect one-night stand?”

  “In this particular instance,” Baptiste said slowly, less than thrilled to admit it aloud, “I’m dissatisfied with one night.”

  Daniel poured two cups of coffee and passed one to Baptiste. “So make her one of your little offers. Whip out the credit card. Make all your sugar daddy moves. Maybe that’ll change her mind.”

  Not a bad idea. As a woman who was facing a five-figure debt, Samira might well be ripe for, say, three months of an arrangement that included liberal use of his money. On the other hand, his gut told him that Samira might be less than enthusiastic about such a suggestion. He didn’t know her well enough to know why she might object. It was just that his mind’s eye couldn’t bring such a scenario into focus.

  “Once again, in this particular instance only, I’m not sure the normal rules apply. She’s just coming off a broken engagement. She doesn’t want anything complicated.”

  Some of Daniel’s consternation cleared. “Oh, so she wants a rebound man. There you go. You’re the poster child for uncomplicated rebound men. Problem solved.”

  It didn’t feel solved to Baptiste.

  It didn’t feel solved at all.

  Worse, this unvarnished assessment of Baptiste’s shallow nature when it came to women made him want to smash something. Possibly Daniel’s bright-eyed and happy face.

  “You know nothing about it,” Baptiste said.

  Daniel looked around in surprise. “What’s the problem?”

  “I no longer wish to discuss my personal life with you.”

  Incredulous look from Daniel, followed by something that looked like dawning comprehension.

  “Who is this woman? I’m suddenly dying to know more about her.”

  “I’m sorry I mentioned anything about—”

  “Good morning,” called a cheery female voice from the corridor outside the kitchen. A mellow, throaty voice that had whispered in Baptiste’s ear all night. “I smell coffee, which means I don’t have to make it for once.”

  Baptiste glanced around, his breath hitching audibly.

  It couldn’t be.

  He was afraid to look. Afraid to hope.

  Afraid to make eye contact with Daniel.

  Daniel’s expression, meanwhile, had already turned into narrow-eyed disbelief. He looked from Baptiste to the kitchen doorway, his bottom jaw slowly hitting the floor.

  “You’re shitting me.”

  Stunned, Baptiste shook his head.

  “Daniel?” the woman’s voice called again, closer now. “Is that you?”

  “In here, Samira,” Daniel called.

  Baptiste felt the grin explode across his face as he allowed his sudden reversal of fortune to run away with him. He couldn’t help it. Until he saw the look on Daniel’s face (impending doom) and locked down his excitement.

  “Did you save me any coffee?” With that, Samira strode into the room on a wave of fresh air and bustling energy. Smiling and fresh-faced, with a minimal amount of makeup, she had her hair in an edgy style that was spiky and straight. She wore a crisp white blouse, black pants and heels. “I feel like I need it for this mysterious meeting you called this morning—oh.”

  The sight of Baptiste sent her into complete paralysis, except for her widening eyes and the vivid flush that raced up her neck and across her high cheekbones. He saw it all in those suspended seconds when their gazes locked together, before she could think to censor her emotions:

  Shock. Bewilderment.

  Delight, inconvenient though it might be.

  “I…” Quickly snapping out of it and back to attention, she focused on Daniel, who was evidently her boss. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything."

  “No worries,” Daniel said wryly.

  She edged toward the door. “I’ll just let you—”

  “No need to take off.” Daniel extended an arm toward Baptiste to draw him into the conversation. Baptiste stepped closer, his heart pounding in his chest like a marching band’s percussion section. “You can be the first to know: Harper Rose is merging with a French vineyard, and my buddy here is the owner.” Pregnant pause. “I would introduce you and Baptiste, but you two seem to already know each other.”

  Her color and eyes still bright with embarrassment, Samira risked a quick glance at Baptiste.

  Who stifled most of his amusement, shrugged and raised a what can you do? brow at her.

  “Baptiste, Samira Palmer is my PR manager,” Daniel said. “So she’ll be closely involved as the merger gets underway.”

  “Indeed?” Baptiste asked silkily. “What a delightful coincidence. I’ve just made this merger my number one priority. I plan to extend my stay in Journey’s End indefinitely.”

  9

  “I want to take a moment to thank all of you for your hard work and loyalty to Harper Rose,” Nigel Harper said from the head of the long conference table, his sweeping gaze encompassing everyone gathered. “We’ve had a lot of transitions lately, haven’t we? First, Daniel took the helm.” He shot a fond look at his son, seated to his right. “And now with the merger, we’re going to become Château Harper Rose.” A glance at Baptiste, on his left. “I appreciate you all more than you’ll ever know. Especially those of you on the transition team. You still with me down there, Samira?”

  Samira started unpleasantly. She’d been lost in her thoughts of last night with Baptiste and what the hell she planned to do now that he’d reappeared in her life. She was not, in fact, still with Nigel. But she could fake it.

  “Oh, I’m still with you.” To make it look good, she typed a few words—I’m so screwed! —on her laptop and hit Enter with a flourish. “Just getting started on my to-do list.”

  Everyone laughed, including—she sneaked a peek out of the corner of her eye—Baptiste. He’d been watching her with his not-so-veiled interest during the entire meeting, which had run a lengthy and tortuous several hours as they discussed the merger’s logistics.

  She felt like a bunny in a falcon’s sights.

&nbs
p; He sat very still, high up in a tree. She sat very still, under cover of the tall grass, knowing both that he watched and that she should run away. If she were a smart bunny, which, clearly, she wasn’t, she’d keep her head down and leap back into her hole at the first opportunity. Smart bunnies didn’t want to stare up at falcons and ruminate on how gorgeous they were. Didn’t long to stare into their amazing green eyes again. Didn’t nurse secret feelings of relief that the falcon remained nearby.

  Yet Samira did all of that.

  Making her a very dumb bunny.

  And what was with the banked laughter in Baptiste’s eyes, as though she amused him to no end? Did he know how agitated his renewed presence in her life (at her job!) made her? Could he tell it had taken every ounce of her waning strength to walk out this morning without agreeing to see him again?

  Did he know about the sweet soreness between her thighs? Or that her resolve to stay away from him was teetering on the edge of collapse?

  Baptiste.

  The freaking owner of the vineyard that was about to merge with Harper Rose.

  Unbelievable. And yet… it figured.

  So much for the free and easy one-night stand that was supposed to get her back in the saddle after her demoralizing breakup. So much for telling herself that he had a girlfriend somewhere, or sternly warning herself that she didn’t need him anyway. Hah. Only she could pick a guy with whom she’d have to work closely for the foreseeable future.

  “That’s enough from me, folks,” Nigel said. “I’m retired now. That means I’ve got a golf lesson after lunch. I’ll leave all the messy details to you young people.”

  More laughter as Nigel waved and ducked out of the French doors and Daniel stood.

  “That’s it for now. Time for us to get back to making the wine.”

  Everyone stood and stretched, heaving a collective sigh of relief and chattering with excitement over the merger news. Samira closed her laptop and headed for the door with the crowd, desperate to make a clean getaway—

  “Samira?” Daniel said. “Can I talk to you and Baptiste for a minute?”

  Samira stiffened, stifled her curse and manufactured a pleasant and enthusiastic smile. “Of course.”

  “Great,” Daniel said. “Give me a sec.”

  Daniel had a quick word with someone before they left while Samira waited at attention by the windows, staring out at the grapevine-covered hillside and trying to ignore Baptiste’s looming presence at her side.

  Baptiste leaned closer to murmur in her ear while Daniel’s back was turned.

  “You’re not going to able to ignore me for much longer, ma reine.”

  “Eh.” She shot him a sidelong glance while trying to ignore the way his proximity made her skin tingle with awareness. Why did he have to smell so damn good? “I might surprise you. I’m pretty tenacious.”

  He chuckled. “You do surprise me. Every time I’m with you. And your tenacity is nothing compared to mine. I can assure you.”

  Direct challenges always goaded her. She lost her head and turned to face him, receiving an unexpected jolt from the green blaze of his eyes.

  “You’re not a stalker, are you? Or can’t your ego take the word no?”

  He grinned, all white teeth and dimples.

  “My ego is strong and healthy. Like the rest of me.”

  Samira made a scoffing noise even though she had an unwelcome flash of his body—big and heavy—straining over hers, and her inner muscles clenched. Unsmiling, she stared him in the face, determined never to reveal so much as a flicker of ongoing desire for him.

  “But if being a stalker means I’m determined to change your mind so we can enjoy each other again very soon,” he continued, “then yes, I’m a stalker.”

  “That is not what being a stalker means,” Samira said. “I’m surprised you don’t know that. Your English isn’t very good at all, is it?”

  He laughed outright this time.

  The sound aroused her as if he’d kissed her low on her belly.

  “Being a stalker,” Samira said, well aware of the growing heat in her face, “means that you’re harassing someone who doesn’t want to be bothered. In the U.S., companies get sued for that. It’s called sexual harassment.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I’m neither your boss nor an American citizen, isn’t it?”

  She stepped closer and tipped her chin higher, gearing up to blast him into next week, and that was when they heard it.

  The exaggerated clearing of Daniel’s throat from the doorway.

  They hastily backed up a step and looked at Daniel.

  God only knew what kind of expression Baptiste wore, but she tried to look innocent and politely puzzled.

  Daniel did not seem amused. Splitting his glower between them, he snapped the door shut with awful finality.

  “The thing is,” he said with slow deliberation, “we’re all adults here. What consenting adults do on their own time is their own business. I’m busy. I have other things to worry about. But what happens here at my winery? That concerns me. We all know the winery is facing some challenges right now, and we need to get the business back on track. That’s my number one priority.”

  “Of course,” Samira said quickly.

  Baptiste, she saw out of the corner of her eye, nodded and rested a hip on the table, crossing his arms.

  “Samira, you’ve been part of the Harper Rose team for years,” Daniel said. “My father swears you’re a PR genius. Baptiste, we need your money. Bottom line. So we have our team in place. Our teammates need to work together and get the job done. If either of you, ah, teammates, know of any reason why we can’t have a functional team, then you need to speak up now. Samira?”

  She squared her shoulders and infused her voice with the kind of confidence she wished she felt.

  “I’m fine. I’ll do my job like I always do.”

  Daniel studied her hard. “You sure? Would you prefer to talk to me alone?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t want me to get human resources in here?”

  “What? No. Of course not,” she said.

  “Great.” Daniel turned to Baptiste with a chilling smile. “Am I going to have any problems from you?”

  Baptiste had the nerve to look shocked and outraged as he pressed a hand to his chest.

  “Me? Of course not.”

  Daniel seemed far less than convinced. He glared at Baptiste for several long seconds before turning back to her.

  “Samira, we’ll throw a gala to hype the merger. Are you up for that?”

  “Absolutely,” she said, brightening.

  “So we’re all good?” Daniel asked.

  “All good,” Samira said.

  “We’re great,” Baptiste said.

  Judging from his ongoing glare at his friend, Daniel didn’t care for this level of enthusiasm from Baptiste. Several long beats went by while Baptiste kept his expression politely innocent.

  “Great.” Daniel finally blinked and gave Baptiste a tight smile. “Carry on, troops.”

  Daniel left. Samira hurried after him without a backward glance, all but sprinting down the hall in an attempt to get away from Baptiste before things got any worse.

  Her thoughts churned like the foaming waters of her washing machine as she turned into her office. What the hell had happened to her life between last night and now? One-night stands? Mergers? Working closely with Baptiste? What the hell was she—

  “So I take it dinner is still off the table for tonight?” Baptiste asked right behind her.

  She squawked, jumping a foot in the air, and turned to discover him sinking into one of her chairs as she edged around her desk.

  “Do not sneak up on people,” she barked. “That’s very rude. And why are you here? We just discussed everything we need to discuss about work—”

  “We didn’t, though.”

  “—and everything else got settled this morning.”

  Baptiste said nothing, and it was a power
ful nothing. There was no amusement now. Just quiet reproach and a faintly wounded look, as though he felt insulted that she took him for a big enough fool to buy what she was selling.

  When the moment’s tension overcame her, she looked away, smoothing her hair because she couldn’t figure out what else to do with her fidgety hands.

  “I like it this way, too,” he said, gesturing to her hair. “It’s spiky.”

  “Thanks,” she said, with a tiny but unstoppable grin that she quickly wrestled into submission. She opened her mouth to tell him about all the work she should be doing, but the words refused to come. Coherent thought refused to come.

  When he looked at her like that?

  She was all on her own in the world. Like a guppy in a shark tank.

  “Samira,” he said, lowering his voice and checking over his shoulder to make sure no passersby were within earshot, “I like to tease you, and you like to give me a hard time, but now it’s time to be serious.”

  No, it wasn’t. She didn’t want to be serious. Didn’t want him to melt her with his looks and the sound of his voice.

  “I have work to do—”

  “Did you think about me?” he asked quietly. “After you left this morning?”

  Samira froze. No way in hell was she answering that question.

  Instead, she took a deep breath.

  “Please understand. I’m not trying to hook up with anyone now.”

  “Hooking up.” He made a face. “Hateful American term. Why can’t we enjoy each other’s company without labeling or judging it?”

  “I told you. I’m just coming off a bad breakup. I’m not up for the drama. And besides that, I love my job. I really need it, especially right now—”

  His eyes narrowed with keen interest.

  “—and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize it. This is a family-run company in a small town. The last thing I need is a complication at work. Or people gossiping about the nature of our relationship. Plus, you’re probably eager to get home to Daphne.”