Since that first dinner when they hung up their boxing gloves, he’d treated her with respect and consideration. He asked probing questions and listened intently to her answers, writing everything down in one of those little books he carried around. And yet there were times when a certain look, an unexpected touch, or just his proximity created a warm feeling in parts of her body that had been dormant a long time.
Maybe Sarah was right. Maybe she should turn a corner and allow herself to feel again. But Jake Madison? He came from a world of chrome and concrete, of business meetings with clients and stockholders, and cocktail parties with bankers and politicians.
What if she got too attached? Wouldn’t it be worse?
She fished in her jewelry box for a simple gold chain and hoop earrings to complement the coral blouse and fitted black pants she had finally selected. After quickly rebraiding her hair, she dabbed a light perfume behind her ears and gave herself one last glance in the mirror. Sighing, she made a face and closed the door.
A new book on the value of investing in vineyards waited on her desk. She put it in the bag with production reports from last year. As an afterthought, she put in a copy of the local newspaper and walked out the back door to feed the dog. Bay waited patiently near his bowl, his ever-wagging tail thumping rhythmically on the chair nearby.
“Here you are, boy. Do you have enough water? Yes, I see that you do.” She talked out loud to her dog, as well as herself. She had definitely lived alone too long.
The sound of water dripping from tiny plastic emitters onto thirsty vines kept her company as she strolled up the driveway to the house. She stopped to adjust one, and continued on her way, happy to see a rich burgundy pigment on the fruit hanging beneath the leafy canopy. Harvest would be early this year.
Hoisting her book bag onto her shoulder, she walked through the kitchen into the formal living room. Jake was on the sofa, his ankle propped with a footstool and his nose buried in a medical journal.
“Hi. How was your day?” She tried not to feel self-conscious as he put down the magazine and gazed at her, starting with her eyes, moving to her lips and a little lower, as if memorizing her features. All of them. Heat suffused her face.
“See anything you like?” She was cheeky tonight. It must have been her conversation with Sarah.
“I see a lot I like. Why don’t you sit next to me so I can look more closely.” He waggled his eyebrows and attempted a smoldering look. Then burst out laughing.
Ah. He’s teasing me. Serves me right.
She grinned back.
“What did you bring me?” he asked, as she sank into the plush sofa next to him. A hint of cloves, part of Jake’s unique scent, lingered in the air between them. He was always clean-shaven in the evenings. Tonight he wore jeans and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. The color showed off his tan and deepened the golden brown of his eyes.
She set the bag next to her and pulled out some papers. Jake put his magazine aside and gave her his full attention.
“First is the local newspaper. You’ll see we are heavy on events this time of year.” She pulled it out and set it on a lamp table. “Next are the production reports. We’ve maximized crop production year after year. There’s no reason why we can’t continue to do it. I want to try a new trellising system next year to see if that increases the crop. If I’m still here, of course. Do you want to go over the reports now or wait until after dinner?”
“Let’s do it now. Who knows how I’ll feel after dinner? I’m not accustomed to drinking wine with dinner…every…single…night.”
“Welcome to the Napa Valley.”
Ever since their declared truce, they allowed themselves to engage in playful banter. They fell into it easily, sometimes anticipating the other’s response. Paige was surprised to find herself so comfortable in Jake’s presence, even with that thread of tension that was never far away. She hoped tonight’s productivity reports would go a long way to helping him decide to keep the property as a long-term investment.
Pulling out the first report, she leaned over the page and was conscious of a subtle change in the atmosphere of the room, like stillness in the air before a storm, when wind dies and the first drops of rain have not yet fallen. Sound ceased except for her breathing and the beating of her heart. She was aware of her thigh touching Jake’s as they sat close together on what was more a love seat than a couch and the smell of his freshly ironed shirt as he raised his arm to rest it on the top of the couch behind her.
Studying the charts, she released air from her lungs and began her narration. “The first set of numbers is the tonnage produced from each block of vines. We separate them so we can determine if the production is uniform or if there is a discrepancy.”
“What happens if you find a discrepancy?” His words were low, and warmth stirred the hairs on her neck as he leaned closer.
“We…we check for pests, or make sure the vines have the correct fertilization program. Sometimes it’s an anomaly in the soil. It can be a number of things.” Her voice faltered. She didn’t dare look up. She could feel the heat of his body through her clothes and was sure her heart would jump out of her chest. He pointed to the second set of numbers, lightly touching the back of her hand. A tingling sensation threaded up her arm.
“And what are these?”
“In the left column is the…the…price per ton if sold on the open market. The right column is what we were paid, based on our contracts. As you can see, we command a higher price.”
“And why is that?”
His voice was almost a whisper, his lips close to her neck. Was that an infinitesimal touch just below her ear? She dared not move. So still she barely breathed, she watched Jake’s finger move up and down the front of the report, as though engaged in a caress. She wondered what it would feel like to have that finger moving up and down and over certain parts of her body.
“What was the question?” Her voice was a whisper, and she still had her gaze fixed on the page in front of her.
“Why do our grapes command a higher price than others?”
Heat moved lower, settling between her thighs.
“Because we produce such a high quality. And because we are in the Napa Valley where the name itself adds value.”
“I see.” He paused and the temperature in the room soared. His mouth must be mere inches away. If she turned her head slightly to the right…
“Dinner’s ready,” Jenny called out, coming into view with a tray. “Roast beef with garlic mashed potatoes and a vegetable medley. Hope you two are hungry.”
Amazed that her legs could hold her, Paige quickly rose and inhaled the tantalizing smells. She turned around to see if Jake needed her help. His face held an odd expression—soft, speculative, his eyes half closed, his lips slightly parted. The next moment he was alert, as though shaking himself awake. Turning away from her, he braced himself on the arm of the sofa and hoisted himself up.
“Let me get your crutches.”
“I think I can manage without them if you’ll help me.” The softness of his voice wrapped her in a silken haze.
Paige swallowed, then nodded and stepped forward. He placed his arm around her shoulder as he slowly made his way to the table. Her arm went around his waist. Touching him and feeling his hard body next to hers intensified the cadence of her heart. She’d gained control of her errant emotions by the time he lowered himself into the chair. Seated across from him, Paige tasted the newly opened wine, then poured him a generous glass.
“This is cabernet sauvignon, an older vintage.” She sipped her wine, holding it in her mouth before swallowing. “It has perfect balance, but it is best with beef and strong cheeses.”
“Is this wine from Napa?” he asked.
“No, it’s made by one of our contract wineries in Sonoma. The grapes are…ours.”
“Ours. I like the sound of that.”
So did she, God help her. So did she.
…
&
nbsp; Special evenings didn’t need soft music or a glowing fire. They only needed two people in tune with each other, thought Jake as he savored the creamy vanilla taste of the last bite of crème brûleé and set down his spoon.
The dinner was a work of art, but so was the woman opposite. He admired Paige’s mind as much as he admired her body. She was funny and caring and loved her family, especially her wild and crazy grandmother. He could hardly wait to meet her.
He laughed at her description of an attempt to crush grapes by stomping them with her feet. She had grown up in the Napa Valley, and juice oozing through her toes was as much a part of her as the blood flowing in her veins.
Jake found himself talking about his childhood as easily as he might talk about the stock market. That surprised him. Because his father had died when he was fourteen, he cherished every memory and held it close, unwilling to share those happy times with anyone else. And here he was, talking about playing soccer and baseball, waiting for his father’s hug at the end of each game, eating greasy pizza and triple-scoop ice cream cones before going home.
“He sounds like a wonderful man. Did he have a heart attack?”
“No. He died of…a rare disease.” It felt good to talk to Paige about his dad. But he wasn’t ready to talk about his death. She seemed to read his feelings and changed the subject.
“What did you want to be when you grew up?”
“A cook—not a chef, mind you—a cook, the kind that made Philly cheesesteaks and extra thick burgers,” said Jake.
“And did you reach that goal?”
“My parents…uh…dissuaded me. It was after I fed them my newest concoction…salami slices and sauerkraut slathered over hamburger patties served with hot mustard. I was sure it would make me famous.”
“Did you serve them with antacids?”
She glowed when she laughed. Her eyes scrunched up, and tiny laugh lines appeared at their corners. He wondered if she knew what a lilting tone her laughter had, how much her smile made him think of satin sheets and cold champagne.
Careful, Jake, you’re getting into dangerous territory.
He’d dated a lot of women over the years, making sure he didn’t miss out on any experience if his lifespan would be shortened. Most of them had been more than willing to be his short-term partners, especially during the years when he’d had lots of money and spent it freely on sports cars and trips to exotic places. If a woman became too clingy, he dumped her. Not a good admission, but a necessary one, given the possibility of Huntington’s.
He’d never dated an employee. There were too many chances for misunderstandings and too many risks, even between consenting adults. But Paige had somehow gotten through the walls, the defenses he’d put up to ward off intimacy. In just a few days, he’d told her about growing up in Philadelphia, his vision for his company, even his thoughts about the future of the planet. She’d listened with rapt attention, asking questions, offering her own views. And he found he wanted to spend more and more time with her…to get to know her better.
He had not told her about his fears.
But I want to.
And that terrified him.
“Shall we go back to the living room and continue our discussion?” he asked.
“I’m afraid I have to be on my way.”
“But it’s not even eight o’clock and it’s Saturday. Got a late date?” He held his breath as she answered. She’d never mentioned a boyfriend, but it was a distinct possibility.
“No. No date. I get up at five a.m.”
“On Sunday, too?” He wondered if she sensed his relief at her answer.
“Force of habit, I guess. I can’t seem to sleep in, and I have notes to make on our sugar readings today. We are getting very close to harvest now.”
“Then I will say good night.” He pushed back his chair, and she came around to help him up, leaning into him as she put her arm around his waist. He had a sudden urge to pull her into his arms, to rest his head on top of hers and hold her tightly against him. Instead he put his arm on her shoulder.
“The couch?” she asked.
“No, I think I need to go to the bedroom.”
She paused a moment, the corners of her mouth turning up. “Am I safe?”
“Regretfully, yes. This damned ankle is beginning to ache.”
He leaned on her and limped once again toward the living room, through the hallway, into the master suite. She helped him to a chair near the bed, then left and returned with the crutches and book bag.
“Here’s your evening reading material,” she said. “I guarantee it will put you to sleep.” She set down the book on the table between the bed and his chair. He caught her hands.
“Thank you,” he said, looking up into her eyes.
“For what?”
“For taking care of this place. You love it. I get that.”
He reached up and brushed the edge of her face with his fingertips. Her skin was warm and smooth. All he had to do was move forward and his lips would touch hers. Pull her a little closer and he could bury his lips in the curve of her neck. She closed her eyes, but he resisted the temptation to kiss her. He wanted to very much, but that wouldn’t be fair. Not to her. He was her boss, and he was here to sell the property she obviously loved. And there was the Huntington’s. He was not a man who could give her a normal relationship.
She deserved more, and he was surprised to discover he really wanted her to be happy.
He released the hand he still held. She opened her eyes wide and turned toward the door.
“Good night, then,” she said. “Don’t forget to read those production reports. All six years are there.”
He watched her walk to the door and pause. When she turned around, she seemed to study him thoughtfully for a moment.
“I’ll send Jenny or Sam in with an ice pack. You don’t want that swelling to flare up again,” she said. She closed the door firmly behind her.
He wondered if that’s what she had intended to say. God knows he needed that ice pack, but not for his ankle.
…
Paige skipped down the hall, a broad grin on her face. She remembered the first time she climbed into a roller coaster. At the end, her thoughts were scrambled, her body trembled, and her face was flushed with exhilaration. She felt like that now. Sarah was right. It was good to flirt and to feel. A minute ago she’d thought Jake might kiss her. It was a fleeting thought, born of a hunger she didn’t realize she had. But he hadn’t. There were a lot of reasons why he should do no such thing.
Shaking herself out of her dreamlike state, she reminded herself that she was his employee. Nothing else. And yet she had sensed a softening toward her that hadn’t been there before, and something in his eyes. Was it longing?
Engaging in wishful thinking now?
She had told him she’d try to find him a cook, but he said he could take care of that himself if needed, since he couldn’t have Jenny. He didn’t like the fact that she wasn’t available. He was definitely a man accustomed to getting his way.
It must be nice to be rich, to hire who you want, to drive nice cars and dine at the best restaurants without constantly checking your balance on your smartphone. Paige counted herself lucky to keep good tires on her old truck and to eat her mother’s leftovers. Of course, she was socking away as much cash as she could into her savings account. But having Jake around was a new experience. She’d always been the one making the decisions for this property. Now he was.
Jenny and Sam were finishing their dinners at a small trestle table in the kitchen as Paige breezed through.
“Can I help clean up?” she asked. The kitchen was spotless except for a small pile of dishes stacked near the end of the long marble counter.
“You go on home. This house has two dishwashers, and it’s not the folks sitting at this table,” said Jenny. “Wait a minute. Take that extra bread home with you and have it for your breakfast. I put it on the counter next to the door.”
“Than
ks.” Paige scooped up the bread-filled bag.
“Nothing for your puppy dog, though. Maybe tomorrow. You coming for dinner again?”
“Not tomorrow night. I promised Mama I’d show up for Sunday dinner. But I’ll be here Monday. I’m bringing over more paperwork.” Two of the winery contracts she’d drafted were due for renewal. His reaction would give her a clue about whether or not she’d made any headway in convincing him to keep the vineyard.
“Did he like my dinner?” Jenny looked up expectantly.
“I’m sure he did. Why don’t you ask him yourself? He’s going to need another ice pack before he goes to bed.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Good night, then.”
Paige drifted down the back steps and began her walk home. The last rays of sunset had faded to dusk, and a sprinkling of stars sparkled in the sky. Crickets chirped in the fields, and in the distance an owl hooted, heading out for an evening’s hunt.
A breeze stirred the leaves on the vines next to her. It caressed her face, reminding her of Jake’s gentle, almost reverent touch.
Bay trotted out to greet her as she neared her cottage, and she reached down to rub his ears. “Waiting up for me, are you, boy?” She walked on with him at her heels, sniffing the package she carried.
She opened the door and went straight to the kitchen, tucking the bread inside a cupboard. Glancing at the clock, she noticed the message light blinking on her phone and decided to ignore it until she ran her bath.
Tonight she wanted hot water, bubbles, and flickering candles—things to awaken her senses as she dreamed about a man who, according to the tabloids, went through women like sand through an hourglass and said he would never marry. Perhaps he hadn’t found a woman who captured his heart. It wouldn’t be her, she reminded herself. A one-night stand didn’t lead to permanence.
Water splashed in the old-fashioned claw-footed tub as her clothes dropped to the floor. She put them neatly into her clothes basket and draped a soft towel around her body. She lit a handful of candles and placed them around the small bathroom. Lavender-scented crystals flooded her senses as she slipped into the steaming tub, letting tensions fall away.
A Kiss of Cabernet Page 5
