Back in His Bed. Heidi Rice
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pace in agitation. “Maybe. That doesn’t mean I’m naïve. Just because I never went to college…”
Jack pushed out of the water as well and sat on the edge of the tub. “That was your decision. UC Davis would have let you in.”
“Only because my last name was Garrett at the time. And why would I spend all that time at school for them to teach me what I already knew about wine-making?”
“You might have enjoyed it. Or you could have gone to a different school and studied something else.”
Now a pang of old hurt joined the resentment. “Oh, I’m so sorry my lack of formal education was such an embarrassment in front of your snobby city friends.”
“Having interests other than grapes makes them snobs?”
“No, looking down on people makes them snobs.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You should know from all the practice you’ve had.”
Jack ran his hands through his hair in exasperation. “Why are we having this fight again? We’re not married anymore.”
And they’d just run through many of the reasons why. Again. “Thank goodness for that.” She reached for her wine glass and drank deeply.
“If anyone’s a snob, Brenna, it’s you.”
She choked on her wine. “What? Hardly.”
Jack stood and walked to within an inch of her. “You’re a wine snob. All that ‘fruit of the vine, nectar of the gods’ garbage. It gets old. And quite boring.”
The comment stung, but she stood her ground. “Gee, I’m sheltered, naïve, snobbish and boring—and you’re an overbearing, condescending jerk with a superiority complex. I don’t know how we ever ended up together in the first place.”
She regretted the words the moment they left her lips. When would she learn not to wave the red flag in front of the bull just because she was angry?
Jack’s eyes lit alarmingly and traced a path down her body, leaving her skin tingling again in their wake. How had she forgotten she was practically naked? And that he was, too? Her nipples tightened against the fabric of her bikini, and a slow half-smile crossed Jack’s face. “Oh, I think you remember why, Bren,” he said quietly. “I know I do.”
His husky voice moved through her and every nerveending came to life. She was close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. A rush of desire slammed into her, making her knees wobble and her heart beat faster. Damn him. “D-don’t change the subject.”
“I’m not. This has always been the subject.” He traced a finger over her collarbone and down the top of her arm. Gooseflesh rose up in its wake, and a shiver moved through her. “We’ve always had this.”
“Jack, don’t.” Her voice sounded breathy and unsteady even to her, but she couldn’t pull away from the tease of his touch or the promise in his voice. Her body screamed for more, and all she’d have to do would be to take a tiny step forward…
No. She closed her eyes, blocking the sight of temptation, but her other senses were still under assault and she swayed on her feet. Sex wouldn’t solve anything. It never had, she reminded herself. They’d been down this path many, many times. Fight bitterly, then have fabulous make-up sex. It never made anything better. In this case it could only make things worse. More complicated.
She had to remember that, no matter how much her body begged to differ. No matter how strong the ache was.
No matter how much she wanted him.
She knew what his hands could do to her, remembered the feel of his skin against hers. And from the fire in Jack’s eyes she knew he was remembering as well. A tiny shiver of desire rippled through her.
His finger finished its slow path down her arm and now tickled across the sensitive skin of her waist, over her stomach, where butterflies battered her insides.
“Jack, I…I mean we shouldn’t. Can’t.” She didn’t know exactly what she was trying to say, but weak protest was better than none at all.
Jack’s voice rumbled through her. “But we can. And you know you want to.” The tickling fingers became a warm caress as his palm moved over the dip in her waist to the plane of her lower back.
Be strong. Brenna inhaled, filling her starved lungs with oxygen and the enticing smell that was uniquely Jack. Now step away. The signal to her feet to move got lost in transit as Jack’s arm began to encircle her.
She was wavering, and she hated herself for it. What harm could it do? her body argued.
A lot, her heart responded.
Hundreds of reasons—solid, rational reasons—why this would be a mistake raced through her mind, but that didn’t stop her from taking a step closer to him. Jack’s fingers tightened on her back, urging her closer still, until she could feel the hairs on his chest tickling faintly across her skin.
Brenna’s brain felt foggy, and she lifted her hand to his chest to create a barrier. Jack inhaled sharply at her touch, and the muscle under his skin jumped in response.
Just a taste.
Jack’s hand came up to lift her chin, angling it for his kiss, and reality intruded one last time. She’d regret this either way, but which choice would she regret more?
His mouth was almost on hers when she clasped her hand around his wrist. She could feel the heavy beat of his pulse under her fingers, matching the thumping in her chest. Jack’s cheek slid across hers as she turned her face away.
“You want me, Bren. I can feel it,” Jack whispered.
Oh, he was so right about that. And she could feel how much he wanted her. All she had to do was say yes…
“I’ll make this easier for you.” Jack kissed her temple, then moved to her ear, his breath sending shivers down her spine. “Give me tonight, and I’ll give you the winery.”
Jack heard her sharp gasp a second before her hands landed on his chest and pushed him forcefully away from her. Anger hardened her jaw as her fingers flexed, then curled into a fist. Closing her eyes with the effort, she lowered her hand to her side.
When she opened her eyes, the heat blasted him. “Are you kidding me?”
Her anger cut through the last of the sensual haze that had snared him and had to have been the source of his offer. The thought of simply giving her the winery had crossed his mind briefly, as a quick and easy way out of this unholy mess, but he hadn’t entertained it seriously. After all, as Brenna had pointed out, business was built into his DNA, and giving one away wasn’t exactly approved business practice.
But the offer was out there now, even if he didn’t know what had possessed him to make it. “I’m serious, Brenna.” He held the stare, watching as Brenna moved from anger, to shock, through disbelief, and finally settled on outrage. He wasn’t going to back pedal, not even as he watched the angry flush creep up Brenna’s neck as her temper boiled. Even with indignation radiating off her in waves he burned for her. His fingers itched to touch her again, to feel that smooth skin quiver in pleasure and desire. He knew her taste, and the craving was awakened, familiar and frustrating at the same time.
It would give her the excuse she needed to give in to the desire he knew she felt without recriminations in the morning. He’d be able to get Brenna out of his system and break their stalemate over the winery at the same time. Win-win all around.
“Oh. My. God.” Brenna took another step back, shaking her head in disbelief. As her shoulders tensed, he braced for the full blast of her temper.
But the blow-up didn’t come. Her anger seemed to drain away as quickly as it had flared. She moved to the table and perched on the edge, her hands folded against her chin.