Lucas looked after Maryanne. She had been laughing and giggling during the glass work, and now she stood in front of the winery with her arms crossed.
He walked to her side. “You okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? Thanks, that was fun.”
“You seem upset. Anything I did?”
“Oh, no. Some thoughts crossed my mind and made me sad, nothing about you.” Her voice was strained but she forced a tiny smile.
He took her hand. It was so small and delicate. “Stick with me and I won’t let sad thoughts near you.”
“Promise?” She pulled him toward the tasting room. “Let’s try some wine.”
“Aren’t you driving?” Lucas stopped at the entrance.
“A little wine isn’t going to do any harm.”
“The road’s narrow and winds around. There’s lots of traffic.”
Her frown pushed her eyebrows together, and she pulled out of his grasp. “Are you saying I can’t drink when you’re around?”
“At least let me drive.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’ll stay out here.”
She stepped through the door without answering. A cold wave swept his chest. He could never figure out women. Hot, cold. Flirty, indifferent. Giddy one moment, then moody and spitting like a hellcat.
Twenty minutes later, Maryanne emerged from the tasting room carrying a bottle of wine. She popped a chocolate into her mouth and smiled as if pleased with herself.
“I would invite you back to my place,” she said in a teasing voice. “But I think I’m going to have to drink this alone.”
“I’m sorry I said anything.” Lucas held the car door for her, but she walked to the passenger side.
“Go ahead. I knew you wanted to drive it.”
He hesitated. A no win situation. Take the wheel and admit he thought her a drunk. Back off and risk an accident. His friends back home had always appreciated him for being the designated driver.
She beeped the horn. “What are you waiting for?”
He slid into the driver’s seat. “Talk to me. What are you thinking?”
Her breath had a fruity bouquet, sweet. Perhaps she really had had only a taste. She tickled his shoulder. “That you owe me a kiss.”
“You’re not mad? Because I was way over the line. It’s not you. My mother’s an alcoholic and I’m used to fighting her for the keys. I’m usually not—”
Her lips, soft like rose petals, pressed briefly over his mouth. His heart skipped with an electric sizzle. He’d expected her to be greedy and sloppy, but she kept her mouth closed, inhaling through her nose. He caressed her cheek, her complexion like porcelain, so perfect, with a sprinkling of pinpoint freckles. And when she opened her eyes and gazed into his, he felt light, as if he’d been levitated, hypnotized, enchanted. He traced her cheekbone to the back of her jaw, letting his finger linger on the soft skin of her neck around her pulse point.
He opened his lips to give her a real kiss, felt her gasp and tremble at his approach. Lightly gliding over and around her tongue, he explored the silky parting between her lips and teeth, teasing the tip of her tongue, encouraging her to fully draw him in.
She moaned, and her fingers slid underneath his shirt, kindling a flame in his groin. Their lips still locked passionately, he struggled for breath. He couldn’t allow this to continue, couldn’t break her chastity vow. And he definitely couldn’t fall in love, not yet. Not until he’d won Olympic gold.
Abruptly, he pulled away and latched onto the steering wheel as if it were a life preserver.[Start] [Previous Scene] [Next Scene]
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Genre: Women's Fiction, Contemporary Romance