A Kiss of Cabernet

by Pamela Gibson

  “Good-bye and thank you for a very special day.”

  “Hey, I was going to say that.”

  He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then let himself out the door. He waved as she turned the truck in the circular driveway and headed back down the hill toward her cottage.

  She went in her back door and started singing the words of an old rock tune. “You make me feel like dancin’…” She twirled through the hallway into her bedroom.

  …

  He stood at the top of the steps until her truck disappeared. Limping into the house, he put away the wine he’d purchased and found the aspirin bottle. His ankle was throbbing, but the pain was nothing like the knot in his gut.

  I kissed an employee in a public place.

  And he’d enjoyed every second.

  He sat in one of the leather chairs in the living room and propped his foot on a stool, recalling Paige’s expression when he chugged his first pour. She’d almost gasped with surprise, saying, “No, no. Sip, savor, then swallow. You’re missing the full effect when you drink it down.”

  She’d giggled when he’d tasted that young wine that made his lips pucker. For a second her gaze had dwelled on his mouth. He’d almost kissed her then, remembering where he was, and who he was with, at the last second.

  When they got to the last winery and he’d gone through the correct tasting procedure without prompting, she’d patted him on the shoulder and nodded in approval. Then he’d grabbed the bottle, pretending to drink from the neck. Her mortified squeal was worth it. He’d laughed, pulled her in for a quick hug with his free arm, and set the bottle back on the counter, winking at the server who wasn’t sure what to think.

  They’d had fun today, no disagreements, no discussions about the property. And when they had lain side by side on the blanket, smelling the grass and roses, he’d risen up to see her face. Her eyes had been closed, her lashes brushing her cheeks. A warmth had crept into his heart and he’d had to do it. He’d kissed her, and it wasn’t a chaste, thank-you sort of kiss. It was hot and lingering, the kind of kiss he shared with a lover, not someone he’d just met a few days ago.

  Now he was in big trouble.

  He wanted more.

  And judging by her reaction, so did she.

  Chapter Six

  “Cabernet sauvignon can be mellow or intense, depending on age and blending. Serve with roast or grilled beef to appreciate its full range of flavors.”

  —from Paige Reynoso’s tasting notes

  Paige glanced at her sister Mariel as she placed a delicate, bone china plate on her mother’s dining room table. Sunday dinner required good dishes and a white linen tablecloth, even when there would only be the three of them.

  “Okay, spill. Is he really as hot in person as he is in his pictures?”

  “Better.” Paige was surprised to realize she meant it. This past week had been surreal, as though time blurred and the real day started at six o’clock when she arrived for dinner with the most amazing man she’d ever met. Today’s tenderness had been unexpected and surprisingly welcome. The feel of his lips exploring her, tempting her, made her pulse quicken and warmth flood over her. It had awakened something she thought was dead—longing for a man.

  She drifted back to the kitchen where the smell of pot roast made her stomach growl.

  “Where’s Nana?” she asked her mother.

  “Playing bingo at the Catholic church. Her left palm was itching today, so she’s sure she’ll come home with all the prizes. She’s going to eat there.” Francesca Reynoso stirred butter into a steaming bowl of mashed potatoes, adding a pinch of sea salt from a nearby bowl.

  Her mother’s cooking had always been simple and nourishing as they were growing up, even when money was tight. Although their father had emigrated from Mexico, their mother did not rely heavily on Mexican cuisine. A sixth-generation Californian, her cooking was infused with elements of other cultures and she prided herself on growing most of her vegetables and herbs in her own backyard garden. To Paige and her sisters, Mama’s cooking was synonymous with home and comfort. Sunday dinners were not to be missed.

  “Mama, when is this going to be ready? I’m starving.”

  Starving. Was that the word she’d use to describe her feelings for Jake? No, a few kisses didn’t bring on that kind of hunger. The surge of pleasure she’d experienced with Jake in the afternoon still lingered, but the realist in her knew that if they ever came together, it probably would be of short duration. Their worlds were too far apart.

  “You’re blushing.” Mariel smirked as Paige returned to the dining room with a bowl of fresh salsa. “What were you thinking just now?”

  Paige watched her sister put plates on the table. She surveyed her work, straightening a napkin and lining up the glasses, just like she did for banquets at the winery where she worked.

  “I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are.” Mariel walked around Paige and gave her a knowing look. “I think you’ve got the hots for your employer. I’m going to tell Mama. Even your ears are red.”

  “Stop it.” Her voice was louder than it should be, fueling her younger sister’s teasing. Paige was glad her father and nephew, Nicky, weren’t due back from their fishing trip until tonight.

  “So what’s he like? Is he polite? Is he sexy? Do his eyes smolder when they gaze at you? Does he shave regularly, or does he have movie star stubble?”

  “I said, stop it. He is a perfect gentleman, all business, very smart, and he will be gone in a couple of weeks.” Paige was conscious of feeding into her sister’s teasing frenzy by sounding defensive.

  “And what is he doing here? Hiding from jealous husbands? Sizing you up as his next conquest?”

  Paige fidgeted with the silverware and glared at her sister. “He’s here to assess the value of the estate so he can sell it. He’s giving me a chance to convince him to keep it. But I have a time limit.”

  Paige’s hurt tone made her sister back off.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Her sister’s arms came around Paige’s back in a quick hug. “What are you going to do?”

  “If he still feels he has to sell, then I hope I can be the buyer.”

  She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt, but she still had a few weeks, enough time to get through harvest. Then she could put her mind to it.

  “He must be a real hottie if he makes you blush with that hanging over your head.”

  “I’m not blushing!”

  “Girls, there are a few things in the kitchen to bring in,” said Francesca, setting a platter of roast beef, potatoes, and carrots in the center of the table.

  “That smells so good, Mama. As usual, you made enough to feed half the population of Napa. Sit down and I’ll get the salad and the rolls.” Paige eyed the heaping platter and shook her head. Her mother had always made more “just in case” someone dropped by. There would be plenty of leftovers to take home.

  When she returned from the kitchen Mama and Mariel were already seated. She joined them and Francesca said grace.

  “Give me your plates and I’ll fill them,” said Mariel. “Yours first, Mama, and then our little lovebird’s.”

  Her mother’s gaze drifted from one daughter to the next. “What’s going on? Did I miss something?”

  “You didn’t miss a thing. Mariel is being a tease. Just because she flirts with anyone wearing pants doesn’t mean I do.”

  “Hey. I resent that. I am very discriminating.”

  “Yeah, right. What about that guy with the big…”

  “Big what? Muscles? Like yours?”

  “I don’t have big muscles. I have…tone. If you hefted a few bags of potassium sulfate once in a while, your arms would be nicely toned, too.”

  “Yeah, well at least I don’t smell like fertilizer.”

  “Are you implying that I do?”

  “Girls!” Mama didn’t raise her voice often. When she did she got an instant response. “Can we please eat
in peace? Thank you.”

  Francesca refilled their glasses of merlot and reached for another roll. Paige waited, watching her mother’s compact motions, knowing she would still have explaining to do. Her mother didn’t miss much, even when she was in another room.

  “So tell me about Mr. Madison. Is he vacationing with his wife?”

  “He’s not married—yet,” piped in Mariel.

  Her mother stared her into silence.

  “Mariel’s right. He isn’t married. He’s been too busy making money, I guess.”

  “Is he getting ready to rent the place to tourists again?” Francesca took another sip of wine.

  “I’m not sure what he’s going to do.” Paige watched in fascination as her mother cut up her food in neat little piles, none of them touching. “Today I took him wine tasting.”

  “See. I told you. He’s after you,” shrieked Mariel gleefully.

  “I wanted him to visit the wineries that buy our grapes,” said Paige, moving more carrots on her plate. “It was very friendly and innocent. Jeez.”

  It wasn’t totally, but Paige wasn’t going to elaborate. Recalling the afternoon made the flutter in her stomach start again. She could feel her cheeks warming and willed herself to think about ice cubes. Better to change the subject.

  “So have either of you heard from Lindsay?” she asked.

  “She’s still in Santa Marta and isn’t sure when she’ll be home,” said Francesca.

  Paige scooped the remains of her potatoes into her mouth. Her sister Lindsay was an enigma. Always the quiet, introverted one, she was the only one of the three that had a child—and she did it without a husband. Since Lindsay was away for long periods of time as a historical archaeologist, she and her son still lived here with her parents. It gave Nicky a stable home. But sometimes Paige wondered how her sister could stand being apart from her son.

  “Nicky was going to stay with her this weekend, but she called and cancelled.” Francesca picked up her knife and buttered her roll, looking first at one daughter, then the other. “She said she’ll be home as soon as she finishes her current project and then she and Nicky will be moving to their own place.”

  “How can she do that when she works all over the state?” said Mariel. “Living with you has given Nicky a home and friends.”

  “She said she hopes to get a teaching job at the community college. Here.”

  “Well, that’s a change,” said Paige.

  “Something’s not right. I could hear it in her voice. Has she said anything to either of you?”

  “When she’s home, she usually drops by for a quick visit,” said Paige. “But I haven’t talked to her in ages.”

  “I haven’t, either,” said Mariel. “Nicky was excited about going to Santa Marta. All he could talk about was the beach. I’m glad Papa took him fishing. He must have been very disappointed.”

  “Children are tougher than you girls think. He’s probably forgotten about it and is wondering how many fish he can catch.”

  Maybe someday she would be lucky enough to have a child, thought Paige.

  “You’ve got that look on your face again. Are you sure you don’t have more to tell us?” prodded Mariel. She stacked dishes and took them to the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “You can relax, Paige. I can’t stay because I have a meeting. You can help Mama with the dishes.”

  “Running off to leave us with the mess, are you?” Paige called after her sister’s retreating back. “Sure it isn’t a date?”

  Francesca stood and picked up her own dishes.

  A cheery voice yelled, “Bye. I’ll call you tomorrow, Mama. Thanks for dinner.” The front door slammed.

  Paige was acutely aware of her mother’s silence. She made two trips into the kitchen with leftovers, set them on the counter and reached into a drawer for plastic wrap.

  Paige put the silverware into the sink to rinse and wiped her hands on a dishtowel before turning to her mother. Even frowning, Mama was still a classic beauty. Her short, straight hair was still dark with gray at the temples, and her high cheekbones, straight nose, and wide-set brown eyes bespoke a Castilian heritage. She was an older version of Mariel, except for her unwavering patience and natural dignity.

  “I want to talk to you,” she said, eyeing her daughter.

  “What about, Mama?”

  “Mr. Madison.”

  “What about him?”

  “I gather your sister thinks you are infatuated with him. Is that true?”

  She didn’t want to worry her mother over nothing, but she didn’t want to lie to her, either. Was this infatuation? Or was it more? Either one would be hard to admit to those penetrating eyes.

  “I don’t know, Mama. That’s as honest as I can be. I feel something stirring that has been dead for a long time. I feel like I matter again.”

  Letting out a long sigh, Francesca gave her daughter a worried look. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. You don’t date. You tell me working makes you happy. Sometimes I wonder if you are completely over Manuel.”

  “I’ve been over him a lot longer than you think.” Paige sat on a stool and ran her fingers over her long braid. “It wasn’t easy to love someone who was possessive and angry all the time. Papa didn’t see it. He saw only what he wanted to see.”

  “But you loved him, didn’t you?”

  “I tried, Mama. God, I tried so hard. But he’d become a stranger. I’m wondering now if I ever loved him, or if I was just fulfilling everyone’s expectations.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “Because I feel something now that’s powerful and consuming. I’m alive again. And that’s a good thing, isn’t it, Mama?”

  Her mother wrapped her in a comforting embrace. “This man is not from our world. I don’t want you to be hurt. Be careful, querida.”

  “I will, Mama. I will.”

  She hoped she was telling the truth. Around Jake, good sense seemed to fly away like an untethered kite on a windy day.

  …

  Jake swirled the last sip of red wine in his glass, put it to his nose, and swallowed. It glided down his throat, leaving a slightly cherry aftertaste. He put the glass on the tile and slid down into the hot, bubbling water of his hot tub. Stars were bright tonight, and the air was still warm. He could get used to this. The only thing lacking was a naked woman sitting opposite.

  Not just any naked woman. His thoughts drifted to Paige, and he imagined her sitting across from him. He mentally undressed her and unraveled her long braid, spreading her hair down her back and over her shoulders. He imagined her drifting through the heated water into his arms and the feel of her body pressed against his.

  Think of something else.

  Lust wasn’t the only part of this equation. He admired her courage in standing up to him, and her dedication to a property that wasn’t even her own. He loved the way she twirled the end of her braid when she was lost in thought. And smiled while looking up through her lashes when he was saying something she was going to refute. Best of all, he loved her taste on his lips and the feel of her skin under his fingertips.

  He climbed out of the tub, a certain body part uncomfortably hard, and grabbed the towel from the chaise lounge. Drying himself briskly, he couldn’t shake that hollow feeling in his stomach, and it had nothing to do with food. He lusted after his vineyard manager. What was worse, it might be more than lust. He wanted to protect her, to make her happy, to keep her damn vineyard intact.

  At the same time, he was here to do something that would break her heart. She’d end up hating him.

  He wanted her so much he couldn’t trust himself to do the right thing—to stay away from her. Not anymore. Not after today.

  He dropped the towel on the tiled deck and dived into the deep end of the unheated swimming pool, hoping the cold water would cool his ardor. He swam laps until he was exhausted and sure to sleep without being bothered by lustful dreams.

  Chapter Seven

  “If a bottle of wine
exudes the smell of gym socks just after being opened, it means the grapes were infected with Botrytis when they were crushed. Don’t drink it…as if you’d want to.”

  —from Paige Reynoso’s tasting notes

  Jake woke up to the musical tones of his cell phone on the bedside table. He groaned and picked it up. It was Kevin.

  “Do you know what time it is?” Jake growled.

  “It’s work time in New York. I’ve already been here an hour.”

  “Well, it’s five o’clock in the morning here, and you disturbed a very pleasant dream.”

  “You’re going to want to hear this.”

  Something in Kevin’s tone made Jake instantly alert.

  “What’s up?”

  “Sven Jorgensen is now the sole owner of Micromaze.”

  Jake sat up in bed, the covers dropping away from his naked torso.

  “Since when?”

  “Friday. The deal was announced this morning.”

  “I knew he was up to something. You know what that means?”

  “Hell yes. It means he now owns forty percent of the Pantheon stock. He bought out two of our stockholders last month. He says Pantheon is his next target. Why do you think he’s doing this, Jake?”

  “Who knows? It could be a power trip. It could be a vendetta. Everyone knows he hates my guts.”

  “I’ve never understood that. What did you do to him?”

  “I bested him on a couple of business deals. He can’t stand to lose. It’s as simple as that when you’re a madman.” Jake decided not to say more. Jorgensen was a jackal who treated women like pieces of raw meat. Jake had intervened a few times and had earned an enemy in the process, although one particular incident stood out in his mind, and one name…Vickie.

  Sven was obsessed with Vickie, and when Jake almost hooked up with her one night, he’d gone mad. That was a few years back. Sven never forgot. Or forgave.

  “If you say so.” Kevin’s tone was skeptical, but he didn’t pursue it.

  “Have Carol set up a meeting day after tomorrow. I screwed up my ankle, and I don’t want to be limping around Jorgensen. If you have to put it off another day, that’s okay, too. I’ll fly out tomorrow so I can have a day to prepare.”