Kisses Sweeter Than Wine: Tastes of Seduction, Book 3

by Jess Dee

  One sip of passion leaves them thirsty for more…

  Tastes of Seduction, Book 3

  Declan Muirfield never planned to return to the hotel where he broke a woman’s heart and destroyed his prospects for a happy ever after. Until he finds himself strapped in Noah Martin’s passenger seat, being driven—against his better judgment—back to the scene of his crime.

  Noah’s spent too many years watching while Declan’s lived the life he’s expected to lead rather than following his heart and living the life he wants. Now Noah’s had enough. It’s time for Declan to confront his past so he can embrace his future—with Noah, as it was meant to be.

  And if that future should include a beguiling woman with honey-gold hair, all the better. Under the guise of a working weekend, Noah has invited Violet Harper to join them at the luxury vineyard hotel. Perhaps now the unspoken connection between Violet, Declan and himself can finally develop into something tangible.

  Almost immediately, sparks flare out of control, and clothes come flying off in a hot whirlwind of desire. But convincing Declan and Violet that the three of them belong together may prove to be the hardest task Noah has ever undertaken.

  Warning: A bottle of white? A bottle of red? Perhaps a bottle of bubbly instead? Ah, hell, just bring ’em all. We all know good things come in threes.

  Kisses Sweeter Than Wine

  Jess Dee

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  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my wonderful, fabulous and brilliant editor, Jennifer Miller.

  Jennifer, can you believe Kisses Sweeter Than Wine is our 20th book together?

  The journey has been an absolute pleasure.

  I look forward to working with you on another 20 books—at least.

  With Thanks

  To Fedora and Kitty Kelly. For your endless time and invaluable thoughts.

  Chapter One

  The knot in Declan Muirfield’s stomach tightened as the Jeep Cherokee chewed up mile upon mile of road. Coming back here was a bad idea. He should never have agreed to Noah’s suggestion. It didn’t matter how close the Hunter Valley was to Sydney. They could have chosen numerous other places this weekend. But Noah—with his fast tongue and smooth talking—had made this seem like the obvious destination.

  Just like he had six months ago, Declan stared listlessly out the window, wishing he were anywhere but here. Six months ago, he’d left, with Noah’s help. Now, he was trapped, thanks to the same man.

  Any remaining sense of calm evaporated the instant he saw the sign—Rolling Hills Vineyard and Boutique Hotel. When Noah slowed and flicked on his indicator, the knot constricted savagely, like a snake had crawled through his gut and pierced his insides with venom.

  Noah had chosen this hotel, of all places?

  When Declan finally found his voice, it emerged in a hoarse whisper. “Are you out of your mind?”

  Noah didn’t respond. He simply took a right, steering the Jeep up a long, narrow road surrounded on both sides by row upon row of grapevines. Under any other circumstance, Declan would have taken a moment to appreciate their beauty. The branches were covered in new leaves, as though life had begun afresh in the Hunter. But the light and delicate green of the spring foliage did not match Declan’s dark, depressed thoughts in any way.

  Noah wound down his window, letting the country air waft in. The warm breeze filled the car with an earthy scent. Noah inhaled audibly but Declan couldn’t breathe. Not when his wounds had just been submerged in salt water.

  “Is this a joke?” Coming to the Hunter Valley was one thing. Coming back to the place where his life had changed irrevocably? Unthinkable. Declan had never imagined Noah would ever contemplate it. He’d assumed they’d be checking in to a different hotel.

  Noah’s response was to whistle in time to a tune on the radio Declan couldn’t identify.

  It took a good few seconds before he realized his senses had stopped functioning properly. White noise buzzed in his ears, drowning out the song and the whistling. The warm scent that filled his nose had turned stale, and his mouth tasted bitter.

  Adrenaline pumped through his veins, something he hadn’t experienced in a long time—but then Declan hadn’t experienced much of anything in a long time. Now his fight-or-flight response was kicking in.

  Understandable. His body was gearing up to get the hell out of there.

  Unfortunately, sitting in Noah’s Jeep meant he was trapped, so flight wasn’t an option.

  He should have brought his own car. If he’d driven, he could turn around and head straight back home. Pretend this trip had never happened and wipe all memory of the place clean away.

  Yeah, right. The last time he’d tried to wipe clean the memories of this hotel, he’d failed. Chances were zero he’d have better luck this time.

  Declan’s heart rate increased. His breath came in short, quick bursts. Here he was, back in the last place he’d ever choose to be, with no option of leaving.

  The dense, depressing fog that had surrounded him for six months shifted slowly, making way for a more ominous emotion. Anger rose from the depths of the darkness.

  The rage surprised him. Lately, he hadn’t felt much of anything but grief. A grief he had no right to feel. Not when it was his decision to give up the future he’d believed he wanted.

  Declan chose to quell the anger in the black pit of his despair. But it refused to remain buried. With every meter of road the car devoured, bringing him closer to the scene of his crime, his fury increased.

  How the fuck could Noah—his best friend, his business partner—think it was okay to come back here?

  Fuck him. Declan refused to accept it. If flight wasn’t an option—and Noah had ensured it wouldn’t be—Declan would stay and fight. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

  The sight of the glass-and-wood building up ahead had him clicking his jaw. The hotel looked exactly like it had last time he’d been here. An architectural masterpiece blending perfectly into its surroundings. It was here Declan had broken a woman’s heart and destroyed his own life in the process.

  What in God’s name had Noah been thinking? If anyone understood the ramifications of being back, it was Noah. He’d booked the plane ticket so Declan could escape last time. He’d been the one to show Declan that following through on his plans would have destroyed not one life, but two. And now he’d driven him straight back here.

  It made no sense.

  Declan clenched his right hand into a fist, his clipped nails digging into his palm. He waited, biding his time while Noah pulled into the car park and climbed from the Jeep. Fed by months of inertia, Declan’s rage grew.

  Noah took a minute to breathe deeply—if the heaving of his massive chest was any indication—before he popped the boot.

  Declan took advantage of Noah’s distraction and shouldered his door open.

  He threw the punch without a second thought, every instinct focused on ensuring his fist connected with Noah’s jaw. Hard. The satisfying crunch of shattering bone would be the only means of quashing the violent inner storm Noah had ignited.

  The blow never found its target.

  Before his knuckles met flesh and bone, Declan’s arm was twisted behind his back, and his chest and the front of his thighs were shoved up against the car.

  Noah hemmed him in, pressing his body against Declan’s back.

  “That,” Noah said in a low growl, “is the second, and the last, time you take a swing at me. Are we clear?”

  The last time he’d thrown a punch Noah’s way had been the day before Declan had headed out to the Hunter V
alley—for his wedding. The same day Noah had challenged him about the wisdom of getting hitched.

  “As shit,” Declan hissed, frustration whistling through his veins. His ribs were jammed against the back door, making breathing difficult.

  Height was the only physical advantage Declan had over Noah. His partner, though shorter than him, was almost six feet of solid muscle and built like the boxer he was. The man had biceps bulging out of his biceps. Taking a shot at him was probably one of the stupider decisions of Declan’s life, but, hey, desperate measures and all.

  His only regret was missing.

  Noah leaned in harder, and this time Declan’s shortness of breath had less to do with diminished lung capacity and a whole lot more to do with the sparks of awareness that shot through him.

  He cursed the sparks as vigorously as he cursed Noah.

  “You going to behave if I let you go?” Noah’s warm breath tickled over Declan’s neck, making him want to hit the man even harder than before.

  “You going to get me the fuck out of here?”

  “Now why would I want to do that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Because I hate this place and everything it represents?”

  Noah’s hold softened marginally. Enough that Declan could fill his lungs. “Not sure what there is to hate about it. It’s a nice hotel, as far as I can tell. And the air out here’s as fresh as it gets.”

  Declan bristled, the muscles in his jaw and shoulders turning rigid.

  “Makes a man want to take stock of his life,” Noah continued, as though he didn’t have a care in the world. As though he weren’t wedged up against Declan’s back, Declan’s fist held securely in his own. “Work out what’s important and what’s not. Establish what’s worth fighting for and what’s worth walking away from.”

  Noah’s words rubbed Declan the wrong way. He’d done just what Noah said the last time he was here. Walked away after taking stock of his life and realizing some things just weren’t worth fighting for.

  Or maybe, just maybe, Declan was pissed off because he should have stayed and fought—for his fiancée and for his wedding.

  At the time, walking away had seemed like the right decision. But if it had been, why had Declan spent the six months since feeling like the world’s greatest failure? Why hadn’t he gotten on with his life? Gone ahead and conquered the world?

  “All it’s taken is a couple of minutes breathing in this air, and I already know what’s important.” Noah’s grip on his hand eased, but the freedom did not give Declan the chance to break free. If anything, he was utterly paralyzed, unable to do anything more than inhale—and although Noah had eased the pressure on his chest, even that ability was in question once again.

  Pushed up against Declan’s ass was the very notable impression of Noah’s erection. An impression Noah had not shared with him for a very, very long time.

  It stripped his head clear of thought.

  For interminable seconds it was all Declan could focus on. And damned if it didn’t send a rush of blood straight to his own dick.

  Now the breath that rasped over his neck was less an irritation and more a weapon of torture. It sent prickles down his spine, making him want to crawl out of his skin. But then Declan had pretty much wanted to crawl out of his own skin ever since he’d discovered a hard dick did as much for him as a wet pussy. And when the hard dick belonged to Noah Martin, Declan was well and truly fucked—in every sense of the word.

  “The country air give you a hard-on, asshole?”

  Noah’s low laugh reverberated across Declan’s back. “We both know the country air had nothing to do with my current state of arousal.”

  “So what then? A physical attack turns you on?”

  “Dec.” Noah must have leaned in close because his breath now whispered over Declan’s ear, raising goose bumps on his neck. “It’s time to stop running from yourself, mate.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Between being stuck at this hotel and being stuck against a car with Noah’s erection wedged against his ass, Declan was drowning.

  Emotions roiled in his gut. Anger and rage might be the most easily identifiable, but others churned there too. Irritation, confusion, frustration, helplessness, desire.

  Declan welcomed the rest, but the desire… Damn, the desire screwed with his head. And with his life. It always had.

  “Just what it sounds like.” Noah’s deep rumble of a voice echoed through his ear. “Stop running, Dec. It isn’t getting you anyplace you want to be.”

  “Oh, and you know where I want to be?” Christ, if he didn’t know where he wanted to be, how the fuck could Noah?

  Noah rolled his hips, grinding his dick harder against Declan’s ass. “I know where I want to be. Now I’m just waiting for you to realize it’s the same place you want to be.”

  “You expecting divine intervention?”

  “No.” Noah sighed behind him. “I’m hoping you’ll realize everything you need is right in front of you. All you have to do is show enough muscle to grab on to it.”

  “Fuck you, Martin.” They’d hashed this scenario out three years ago. There was absolutely no need to revisit it now. And there was definitely no need to revisit it here, of all places.

  “Yep.” Noah nodded. Declan felt it in the movement of Noah’s head so close to his ear. “That’s it exactly, Dec. Fuck me. Quit slinging insults my way and start remembering that fucking me is what makes you happy.”

  With that, the motherfucker bit Declan’s ear. He leaned in, took his earlobe between his teeth and nipped. Hard enough to send a dart of lust shooting through Declan’s groin.

  Then he stepped back, freeing Declan from the prison of his body.

  “Damn.” Noah gave a self-deprecating laugh as he rounded the car for a second time and reached into the boot. “I hate walking with a hard-on. Gonna need a minute before I’m presentable enough to head inside.”

  He tugged Declan’s bag out and tossed it in his direction.

  Declan let it drop at his feet. He didn’t move. Couldn’t. His own erection thumped in his jeans, pressing painfully against the zip.

  Noah then removed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He placed the two computer bags over his other shoulder, closed the boot and once again turned to survey the scenery. His chest heaved in time with the slow, audible breaths he took. A couple moments later, he nodded as though satisfied with his progress. “It’s pretty out here. Pretty enough to make me believe anything’s possible.”

  With that, he set off along the path towards the hotel, leaving Declan to lean against the car, unsettled, aroused and generally pissed off. He had no option but to follow Noah inside, yet the last thing he wanted to do was walk the path he’d walked six months ago—while headed to his wedding.

  Noah accepted the keycards to the suite, said his thanks then turned to watch as Declan finally made it into the hotel’s lobby.

  Ah, crap. So much for his erection settling. One look at his friend’s brooding face and he was hard all over again.

  Declan was seething. No doubt about it. His blue eyes had darkened to grey and narrowed to slits. His lips were pursed, and his straight blond hair stood up, as though he’d shoved his hand through it repeatedly.

  Noah’s chest twisted. When would Dec cut himself some slack? When would he realize his needs, actions and decisions didn’t make him an asshole, they simply made him human? Calling off his wedding to Tori may have broken her heart, but it hadn’t made Declan a monster.

  Dec glowered at him from across the hotel lobby.

  Noah shot him an easy grin and motioned him over with a nod of his head. He’d take anger over hollow emptiness any day. At least anger showed emotion, and emotion wasn’t something he’d seen a whole hell of a lot of in Declan lately.

  Declan walked towards him, his reticence and reluctance evident in every step.

  “I booked us into the family suite.” Noah spoke as if being here were the most normal occurrence i
n the world. He fell into step beside Declan, directing him to the grand staircase leading up to the first floor. “There’s only one in the hotel, and it fitted all of our needs. Three en-suite bedrooms and a lounge and dining area. We can use the table for work.”

  Declan grunted, but at least he kept pace with Noah. His face, however, grew paler with every step.

  “Violet’s due to arrive around four. She had a lunch meeting and will drive through afterwards.” Declan knew all this, but Noah chatted away, hoping to put Dec at ease. “That gives us a good two hours to establish exactly what we need from Harper PR over the next year.”

  Ostensibly, this was the reason he and Dec were here—to work on a business plan for their company. Violet Harper, the owner of Harper PR, a firm they’d worked with for the last two years, was joining them to help hash out their strategy. The focus of said plan? To make their company a household name. They wanted EOL—Exclusive Online Luxury—to be every Australian family’s first online port of call when it came to buying quality brand-name clothing and accessories on the Net.

  Realistically, Noah had other goals for the weekend. Goals that had the potential to change his world forever. Declan’s and Violet’s too.

  “I figured we could order room service for lunch and get started im…” Noah’s words trailed off.

  Declan no longer kept pace with him. His face had turned a pasty green, and he stood stock-still, staring at the door of a hotel room.

  Understanding dawned. “This where it happened?”

  Declan nodded. Then he shook his head. “This is where I stayed. Where she read your messages.”

  Fuck knew, Noah had kicked himself a thousand times over for the Skype text conversation he’d had with Tori Worthing, Declan’s ex-fiancée, believing she was Declan. The messages he’d sent had detailed Declan’s intention to call off the wedding. They were the first and only clues Tori had been given that something was amiss between her and Declan. She hadn’t needed any more information after that.