by T. M. Cromer
His solemn gray gaze connected with hers over the length of the dining table. Because he was a good guy. She’d sensed it earlier. Her instincts rarely failed her. Shame flooded her as she watched him try to eat on the opposite side from where the split marred his lip. If she wasn’t careful, she’d have men as afraid of her as they’d been of Frankie Beaudoin up until she married Nate DeLuca. Hope snorted. People were still terrified of Frankie. That was one badass chick.
Seeing the tension between Val and Ashley, Hope now understood the fib. Ashley had been trying to save face for whatever reason. She idly twirled her pasta as she studied her brother’s ex-girlfriend. Black wavy hair, light-blue eyes bright with unshed tears, full lips pressed into a thin line, and tension dripping off her slender shoulders. Yes, she had her reasons. One of which would be to erect a barrier between her and Val. Hope would feel sorry for her if she hadn’t been responsible for Royce getting a fist to the face.
The smile started small and worked up to a full grin. Her hunger returned and she did justice to her mother’s meal. The added bonus was the arrested, somewhat fearful expression on Royce’s face. Her grin had come as he took his first real forkful of food. She caught Tony’s eye. Containing her mirth proved impossible. When Royce’s fork clattered on his plate, she shot from amusement to hilarity. He couldn’t be more obvious. Clearly, he thought she’d tampered with his food. She wiped her eyes and picked up her wine.
“I wouldn’t dare tamper with Mama’s food,” she said and waited until he picked up his wine. Once he’d taken a sip, she continued on with her fun. “The wine on the other hand…”
He spit it out all over her mother’s pristine, white table cloth. Only Tony’s laughter was louder than hers. Val shoved back his chair, enraged.
“Everything’s so goddamn funny to you, isn’t it, Hope?”
“Language, Valentino!” their mother scolded. “Sit!”
Hope raised a brow and smirked. He didn’t dare defy Mama. She sat back and sipped her wine, waiting for him to swallow his fury and apologize to everyone at the table. Isabella Fiore would accept no less.
Val gave into the lifetime of manners drilled into him by their parent, resumed his seat, and imitated a stone statue throughout the rest of the meal. He listened as their mother addressed Hope’s ideas for the ad campaigns and glared at Hope as if it were all her fault.
In part, it was. She’d been the one to approach her mother with the idea of creating the full catalog as well as four national commercial spots. Val had argued that their brochures were adequate, but was quickly overruled by the family as a whole. Brochures were an effective tool, but they didn’t provide enough information for a true wine connoisseur. While Val knew everything about blending varieties of grapes and creating phenomenal wines, he was lost when it came to the administrative aspect of the business. Marketing was primarily Hope’s baby, while acquisitions belonged to their brother, Rafe, with her taking on a select few accounts to ease his workload. All other administrative functions were left in the capable hands of their mother and sister, Faith.
Normally, they ran the farm like a well-oiled machine. However, disagreements popped up from time to time, and anyone being party to their arguments would swear World War III was about to erupt. That was due to their Italian heritage. Without a doubt, they were all passionate people. In general, Val wasn’t inclined to reject any marketing plans. He worked for the good of the whole. Unfortunately, this time Ashley’s presence had thrown him off kilter. Understandable as far as Hope was concerned, but they needed him on board to make everything work as she’d intended.
“Val, we talked about the need for a full catalog if we want to be competitive in Napa and around the globe,” Hope said. Her frustration with his pig-headedness was bubbling over. “You were on board until today.”
“Yeah, well before today, I didn’t know I’d be forced to work with her,” he spat, unable to remain silent any longer.
“You’re being a child,” she charged. “Grow up and start looking at what is best for this business as a whole. It isn’t only you this concerns. There are employees with families who rely on the income we provide. Think about someone other than yourself for a change.”
Hope had struck a chord. The one thing she could count on with Val was his loyalty to his staff. Their eyes, so alike, met and held. A silent understanding.
“Okay. But I don’t want a bunch of people stomping around my fields. Let’s all decide which are the best locations to shoot and schedule times so we don’t interrupt picking. We’ll also need a few days for the ground to dry up.”
“Thank you, Val,” Hope said softly, offering up a sweet smile. “I’ll have the photographer, make-up and wardrobe on the ground in two days. That should be plenty of time. I’m going to need you to clear your schedule for the sho—”
“I told you, I’m not modeling. Get Rafe.”
“Rafe will be flying out tomorrow to meet with the Turlington Brothers.” She named one of their top-selling distributors.
“That’s your account.”
“No, really? I didn’t know that,” she snarked. “Too bad I have to be here trying to babysit you and clean up after your tantrums.”
“Children!”
“Mother, we are not three,” Val ground out.
“Then stop acting like it,” Isabella scolded. “You will be the one to pose with Ashley.”
“No, I won’t. Get Mr. Happy Pants over there to pull in a second model. I’m sure he has plenty to choose from.”
“I can manage that,” Royce cut in smoothly, as if the venom coating Val’s words didn’t bother him in the least. “Two days is plenty of time. I have just the guy in mind.”
“Perfect. See, Mama? Everything’s settled.” Val shoved his chair back and stalked from the room.
“Ms. Fiore, I think it would be best if I leave. Royce can have another qualified model fly out at the same time as—” Ashley tried to smooth things over.
“Nonsense. You are who I have picked, and you are who I will have. We want a hometown girl to represent our wines. Valentino will come around.” She clapped her hands as if to say the conversation was over. And to Isabella’s way of thinking, it was. “Now, I have made tiramisu for dessert. Hope, you and Faith can dish it up for our guests.”
“Yes, Mama.” The two women chorused.
“Oh, and Hope? Do stop teasing Mr. Anderson, dear.”
Suitably chastised because of the implied threat to his wine, Hope escaped to the kitchen to dish up the delicious espresso-flavored dessert.
After the last of the dishes had been cleared away, and a third bottle of a Fiore private reserve drained, the meal was concluded. Royce enjoyed the remainder of his meal after Val had exited the scene. That was one volatile man. If Ashley had been unnaturally quiet, well, they all knew the reason why.
“Thank you for a lovely meal, Ms. Fiore,” he said, bending to drop a kiss on her knuckles.
“Must be a signature move,” Hope murmured in an aside to Faith, who giggled and stretched out her own hand to be kissed. Royce complied. That the gesture appeared to irritate Hope was an additional bonus.
“Hope will show you out,” Isabella said and gave her oldest daughter a speaking glance.
He noticed right away that Hope was not happy with Isabella’s machinations. The older woman couldn’t be more obvious unless she chained the two of them together.
“Are you sure you are okay to drive?” Hope asked as they stepped out on the wide, wraparound porch. “I mean you’ve had a good amount of wine tonight. We could make up the guest rooms.”
“Ashley only had one glass.” He gestured to where she was already waiting by the driver’s side door. Taking care to be quiet, he pulled Hope into the shadows of the porch, out of sight of the windows. “I have a pretty good idea, but tell me exactly when you realized Ashley and I were not a couple.”
She laughed. The sound lightening his heart and causing a reaction somewhere due south in ano
ther organ. Hope had a deep, throaty laugh. He liked that she was quick to find humor in situations.
“Before you spit your wine all over my mother’s good linens.”
“You like unleashing that little, mean streak of yours, don’t you?”
To stem her merriment, she bit into her lower lip. The gleam of white flashed in the dark evening light.
“Have lunch with me tomorrow.” The request sounded more like a command. Her narrowed eyes had him worried he blew his second chance.
“Sure. I’ll meet you at Sweet and Savory Bistro at eleven-forty. Don’t be late.”
Ah, she could be bossy too. Again, it spoke to something within. Would she be dominant in the bedroom? The image of her shoving him back and straddling his lap aroused him in less than an instant. Christ, not the time to be feeling froggy. Still, letting her walk away without obtaining a goodnight kiss went against the grain.
“Hope.” That was it, just her name. Her eyes flared wide in recognition of his intent. He was wise enough to keep his injured arm well out of harm’s way this time. Like that afternoon, they lunged for one another. And unlike earlier, he didn’t pass out when their lips connected. This time they found what they’d been seeking as their mouths merged.
Her soft moan had his mini me in raging hard-on mode. His flagpole, standing tall and proud, rested against the flat plane of her stomach, separated only by a few layers of clothes. God, he wanted to dry hump her like teenagers in the back of a bus. If he were being completely truthful with himself, he wanted to do a hell of a lot more than dry hump. Full on fucking, no holds barred came to mind.
Hope went up on the tips of her toes, lifted a leg to hook her knee around his hip, and ground her core against his. The groan that left his lips had to have been heard inside the house. Based on the friction of their clothing and the motion of Hope’s hips, he feared he might come in his jeans.
His fingers were trailing up under her skirt, seeking the promised land, when the porch light flicked on. Suddenly she was gone, and his back was against the wall where he’d been shoved. Stunned stupid, he could only stare at her, brain muddled and body yearning.
“The light is Mama’s early warning system,” she whispered with a grin. “By her clock, we’ve been out here too long unchaperoned.”
“We weren’t. Ashley…” he trailed off. The woman in question was nowhere to be seen.
Hope spared a glance over her shoulder only to find the same thing he had. A long driveway minus one model and one rental car. “Guess she didn’t want to wait. I’ll make up the guest room.”
“Thanks. I’ll stay out here for a bit.” The cool evening air could only help his erection go down, right?
Her giggle spoke volumes.
Chapter 5
As Hope prepared for bed that night, she envisioned creeping down the hall and letting herself into Royce’s room. Oh, the things she could do with that man. The attraction he held for her was unexpected and a complication she didn’t need. Yet, to stay away from him was like asking a drowning man not to reach for a life preserver.
Instinct told her he’d be the best lover she’d ever had. He would, without a doubt, rock her world. The problem was that she was happy with her world for the most part. There were times she was hit by a wave of loneliness, but those feelings passed quickly. More often than not, she was able to get lost in her work, and on days off, in the sheer beauty of the local landscapes with her photography.
Recalling the hard ridge of his penis against her belly and other lady parts had her growing damp for the second time that evening. The draw was more than Hope being sex deprived for nearly a year. He held some kind of magical sway over her mind whenever she came within two feet of him. Her brain would short circuit, and she’d zero in on his lips. Longing would take over, and she’d be helpless to resist. In other words, she’d be sucked into a sexual haze that was near impossible to escape.
Their shared kiss tonight had been bordering on heaven. It was completely possible for her to spend hours just exploring the delights of his mouth. The taste of tiramisu and Fiore Vineyard’s own Pinot Noir on his lips had her unable to pull away. Had the porch light not come on, she’d still be feasting on the delights he had to offer.
She heaved a deep sigh and squeezed toothpaste on her toothbrush. Yes, she was in lust with Royce Anderson. A mental picture of his features took shape. The thick, dark hair seemed to be made solely for her hands to run through. Those intelligent gunmetal eyes saw below the surface of everything and everyone. She sighed when she thought of the sharp contours of his face and hard line of his jaw with its two day growth of beard. God, she was a sucker for stubble. And that mouth. Yes, his mouth was definitely her favorite feature. That grin of his could dissolve her panties right off.
Ashley was under contract for the next two weeks. Would Royce stay the whole time? Not likely. Agents were notoriously busy. For that matter, why was he here with her in the first place? She rinsed out her mouth, shut off the bathroom light, and climbed in between the cool sheets.
The day’s events ran through her head, playing over and over like a broken record. From the moment she saw him, there had been an instantaneous connection. He had to feel it too, right? How could he not? The bond was so strong. It was as if she’d recognized him the second their eyes collided. As if her heart had sighed and said, “Yes, there he is.”
She rolled onto her side and punched her pillow. She’d seen couples in love. Knew that it was possible. But the immediate question running through her mind was to wonder if love could be possible for a Fiore. In the history of her immediate family, it had never lasted. Her father had bolted when Faith was only a month old. Tony’s wife had left him high and dry with a large alimony payment every month. Ashley ran off to New York, leaving Val a bitter, broken man who’d become a workaholic. Rafe, like her, refused to get involved more than a casual, good-time relationship. Even her grandpa Fiore’s wife had left him for another man. In love, the family was cursed.
Did that mean she shouldn’t at least try to enjoy what little time she could steal with Royce? Fear of losing her heart to this man was a real concern. In the past, it had never been a problem. There had never been anyone to tempt her. Until now, she’d thought she was immune to the love bug. Perhaps she still was. Maybe this was only a strong pheromone issue. Whoever heard of love at first sight anyway? A rumor existed of a great aunt-somebody being struck by Cupid’s bow early on. The story was famous in her family because that great aunt, who’d fallen in love at first sight, had been the only Fiore to have a successful relationship. Well, until that ended in tragedy for them both. He’d gone to war and never returned. She’d taken her life, refusing to live without him. Yeah, so maybe that Fiore could be considered cursed too.
A faint tapping had her bolting upright, heart in her throat. She inched her door open to find a grinning Royce on the other side. Speak of the devil. Or at least think of the devil. A quick check of the hallway showed no one else around. She yanked him into her room.
“What are you doing?” she demanded slightly above a whisper.
“I couldn’t sleep. I’d hoped you were suffering the same.”
His smile did strange things to her insides.
“This is a bad idea.”
“This? What did you have in mind? I was only coming to talk.”
Oh, he was smooth. “Yeah, right.”
“I can’t help it if you have a dirty mind. Although, I’m not opposed to heavy petting or even sex if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said, hot eyes taking in her skimpy sleeping outfit, pausing on her breasts, shielded only by her old, worn tank top.
The longer he concentrated on that part of her anatomy, the more her nips pebbled into hard little stones. The slow, satisfied smile had her irritated and turned on at the same time. Damn that man!
“Stop it,” she warned, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s not happening under my mother’s roof.”
Surprised, he met h
er serious gaze. “You’ve never snuck a boy into your room?”
“You’re kidding, right? Remember I have three older brothers. All Italian, and all ready to go Tony Soprano on someone’s ass.”
“Point taken. But that’s not the case now, right? Your brothers have their own houses on the property and aren’t here to mind.” His good arm snaked around her waist and pulled her close.
Her hands went from resting lightly against those magnificent pecs to hooking behind his neck in point zero three seconds. “This is a bad idea.”
“You’ve already said that, but it’s not the worst I’ve had,” he murmured against her lips.
His kiss ignited a torch within. All she could concentrate on was not burning up from the fire he created in her body, and possibly her very soul. Everywhere his fingertips glided, she burned.
She pulled back slightly to drag much needed oxygen into her lungs. Royce’s respiratory system had been strained as hard as hers. Pleasure curled through her. Good to know he was experiencing the same effects from their necking.
Until he lightly massaged her breast, it hadn’t registered that he’d gone to second base. Now, she stood more than a little amazed at how fast he’d gotten past her objections and under her shirt. She really should remove his hand. Perhaps she’d give him another minute or two to stop on his own.
A moan escaped her when his mouth captured hers for a second go around. He walked her backward and the bed hit the joint of her knees, taking her down on the bed with him on top. In this position, she could feel every hard inch of his body where it came in contact with hers. The most prominent part being his erection cradled against her apex.
The slight tilt of his hips had her gasping. Her desire for him left her shaken. Although sex had always been satisfying, this animal magnetism, which obliterated every other thought from her head, scared her. Yes, he was exciting, and what he could make her body feel by simple petting made her lady bits cheer. But the attraction went beyond the physical, terrifying her.
