No awkwardness.

No reaction.

No comments.

Nothing.

That summed up the last two days. It was business as usual between us, with the occasional heated glance and demand for me to elevate my foot. Oh, and freshly prepared dinners both nights. I tugged on the curtain beside my balcony door and frowned when I found it empty. Aside from the first morning here, he hadn’t greeted me outside. Always downstairs, fully dressed, with a cup of coffee. It seemed today would be the same.

It pissed me off despite it being for the best. But I wanted to know I affected him at least a little. He had me questioning his intentions all over again. Had I misunderstood his bed requirement? The one where he said I could only join him there when he knew I wouldn’t leave?

My head spun with possibilities that threatened to derail my composure as I walked down the stairs. The pain in my ankle had subsided substantially, telling me it wasn’t so much sprained as bruised.

“Mornin’.” Will greeted me with a cup of coffee fixed just the way I liked it and a plate loaded with eggs.

“This is new,” I remarked as I took one of the stools at the breakfast bar.

“You’re going to need more than a banana today,” he replied, referring to my preferred breakfast. “And you’re going to need to change.”

I eyed his jeans and fitted gray T-shirt. “Why?”

“We’re going on an adventure.”

“Uh, elaborate please.”

He grinned that charming grin of his. “Not a chance, darlin’. You’ll need jeans, boots, and a tank top or T-shirt.”

“I didn’t pack anything like that.”

He hummed something under his breath as he left the kitchen. I stared after him unashamedly. His ass was created for those jeans, as were his thighs. And that fitted shirt showcased all those back muscles nicely.

“I approve of casual day,” I murmured to myself before scooping some eggs into my mouth. “Oh,” I moaned. “Okay.” Will could change my mind about breakfast with food like this. “Did you add cheese or something?” I called to him after swallowing.

“Vermont white cheddar,” he replied as he strolled back into the kitchen with a shopping bag. “And bacon grease.”

“Healthy,” I joked around another bite.

“Delicious,” he corrected. “Now, I had a feeling you didn’t bring the right clothes, so I ordered some for you. Boots, size nine.” He set a box on the marble counter beside my plate. “Jeans, size six, and a medium tank top. Did I get all that right?”

I gaped at him. “It’s a little scary how you do that.” And sexy as hell.

“Let’s just say I have a vivid imagination, Miss Dawson.” He folded his arms on the counter to lean in close. “And your clothes fascinate me more than they probably should.”

My mouth went dry at the insinuation in his tone and the heated look he gave my lips. But just when I hoped he’d kiss me again, he pushed back and wrapped that damn professional blanket around us again. “We leave in twenty minutes, so I suggest you finish that and change. I’ll meet you outside.” He picked up a cowboy hat I hadn’t noticed on the counter and plopped it on his head. “Ma’am,” he said, tipping the rim at me.

Oh, not fair. Wealthy businessman I could handle, even dressed-down millionaire, but sexy cowboy? A midwestern girl had her limits. And coupled with that Southern drawl?

“Yeah, I’m in so much trouble,” I whispered.

* * *

The clothes fit perfectly. Not that I was surprised. Will gave me a once-over and stared at my injured foot. “How does your ankle feel?”

“Secure, actually. The boots are a lot better than my heels.”

He nodded. “Good, that was my hope.” He pulled open the door of an oversized pickup truck. “Hop on in, darlin’.”

“Okay, now I’m officially in the South.” I accepted his hand to help me up into the passenger seat. “Let me guess,” I continued when he climbed in beside me. “Country music is next?”

He waggled his brows. “Worried I might covert the city girl in you?”

“Not a chance,” I replied as I pulled on my seat belt.

“So confident,” he murmured. The engine roared to life, and with it came the soft sound of a strumming guitar accompanied by a deep male voice. Definitely a country drawl, but not the folksy tune I expected. It was rather pleasant. Not that I would ever admit that out loud.

Will fastened his belt as well and put the car in drive. “There’s a cooler of bottled water in the back in case you need something to drink. You’ll thank me later.”

“I take it we’re not going to the office to review the final proposal.”

“Nope, we’ll do that on the plane tomorrow, or Saturday.”

“In France,” I added. Because I’d figured out that’s where we were headed first.

He grinned. “Glad to know you learned how to focus, darlin’.”

Oh, I didn’t know about that. The way his forearms flexed as he handled the car was one hell of a distraction, as were those illegal jeans. But it was his voice that fried my brain. He started by humming along to the music, which I enjoyed more than I cared to admit, and then he started to sing. Not loudly, but softly, and in perfect pitch. My lips parted and refused to close, and no amount of admiring the scenery around us could distract me from the deep tenor of his voice.

I’d developed these expectations in my mind about him, and Will continued to break them at every turn. His last name and wealth influenced my initial assessment, something one might refer to as stereotyping, but in my experience, the men in influential circles tended to act the same. Except for Will. Dressed down in his T-shirt, jeans, cowboy boots, and hat, he resembled an ordinary man. And this truck wasn’t anything expensive or flashy, just a convenient vehicle created to master the bumpy road we were now driving down. Fields crowded us on both sides, but a ranch-style home stood at the end of the gravel road.

A man dressed in overalls and a floppy hat walked out onto the porch and waved as Will parked beside another truck. “That’s Joe. He maintains this vineyard,” he explained before hopping out and meeting me by my door. His hand was warm in mine as he helped me step down onto the uneven driveway. My ankle didn’t protest when I put my weight on it, which I took as a good sign.

“Howdy, Mershano,” the older man welcomed as he rounded the truck bed.

“Hi, Joe,” Will replied. “This is Rachel.”

“Ah, lawyer lady, yep.” He held out his hand, and I shook it.

“I prefer Rachel over lawyer lady, please,” I told him with a smile.

“Ya prove to be as helpful as Mershano says ya are, and I’ll call ya whatever ya want,” was his reply.

“Careful, Joe. She’ll take you up on that.”

I didn’t correct him because he was right. “So what are we doing?”

“Prunin’ and hedgin’,” Joe replied before fixing hazel eyes on Will. “You gonna help me with some of the nets while she does that?”

“Yep, but I need to show her how to prune first.”

Joe nodded. “Good luck with that. Those purdy hands tell me she’s not gonna be too great at it.”

I put my “purdy hands” on my hips. “Hey now, don’t judge a book by its cover.”

Will draped his arm over my shoulders and gave me a half hug. “I’m not worried, darlin’.” He let me go to retrieve some gloves and two pairs of scissor-like gardening tools from the truck bed. “Pruner,” he explained, catching my scrutiny. He attached them to his belt via some crafty method I didn’t catch, then tucked the gloves behind his back. “You’ll see.”

“You’re the boss,” I told him, knowing it would make him grin. It did.

“Still waitin’ for you to call me ‘sir.’ ”

“You’ll be waiting a long time.”

His eyes danced over me in a lazy fashion. “Hmm, no, I don’t think I’ll need to wait too much longer.” He opened the passenger door again. “Almost forgot your hat, darlin’.” The item in his hand when he turned around was not part of the earlier bag of clothes and not something I noticed on the back seat.

“You can’t be serious.”

“About you? Very.” Much to my chagrin, he plopped it on my head. “Trust me, gorgeous. Your face will thank me later.”

Uh, what? He used darlin’ so often that gorgeous shocked me into silence. I’d never heard that word or term of endearment from him.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders again. “I’ll meet up with you in thirty, Joe.”

“You know where I’ll be,” he replied.

“Okay, so what am I doing, and why am I doing it?” I asked as Will guided me around the house toward the vineyard behind it. Several heads popped up as we approached.

Will cupped his free hand over his mouth to holler a “Howdy, y’all!” Several variations of the greeting floated back to us, making my companion chuckle.

“To answer your question, we’re here to help Joe pamper the vineyard. He’s having some issues with birds, so we have to put up some nets to keep them away from the berries. But you’re going to help prune some of the vines. As to the why, hard work is good for everyone. Besides, being part of the environment will help give you a better understanding of why I do what I do, which will be important as we go into these negotiations.”

I frowned at that. “You don’t think I respect what you’ve built.” Not a question, but a statement. Because why else would he feel the need to show me all this?

He shrugged. “I think you’re under the impression this was all handed to me because of my family name, and I believe in showing rather than telling.”

“Right, but you already showed me the original vineyard and explained how you turned it around.” What more was there to understand? I already harbored respect for him and his accomplishments.

“Correct, and now you’ll get an appreciation of what that actually meant.” He guided me down an empty row and stopped at a random place in the middle. “Keep in mind that this is a healthy vineyard you’re about to prune, not a ruined one, and you have over a dozen people helping. I had two.”

“Okay, but for the record, I do respect what you’ve built.”

He grinned. “Maybe so, but you’ll have even more respect by the end of the day. And as I said, you’ll have a better understanding for our meetings next week. Trust me, the families who own those vineyards will appreciate your knowledge and experience, even if brief.”

Ah, okay, now I understood the purpose of this activity. “They’re afraid of a corporate buyout,” I translated. And he wanted to assure them that wasn’t what he intended. “Got it.”

“Yes, but it’s more than that.” All teasing left his features as he dropped his arm to his side. “I love what I do, Rachel. I care about this industry, and they know it. That’s why they’re agreeing to work with me. They need to know I surrounded myself with employees who care just as much, if not more.”

I brushed my knuckles over his cheek without thinking. Before I realized what I’d done or why that’d been my instinctual reaction to his words, he caught my wrist and brought my palm to his lips. He gave it a nibble, evoking a shudder from deep within.

This man is going to break down every protective barrier I’ve ever created . . .

“You look awful cute dressed as a cowgirl,” he murmured. “It’s giving me all sorts of new scenarios to consider later.”

Heat climbed up my neck. I had no idea how to reply to that, so I focused on his earlier comment about the negotiations. It was a safer topic, more professional, because, yeah, that’s how I was feeling at the moment.

“I might not share your knowledge, but I understand passion. Show me how to use those scissor things so I can impress the people in your world.”

He grinned against my palm. “Pruners.”

“Sure.”

He clucked his tongue. “Oh, darlin’, you have so much to learn.”

“Then you better start teaching me.”

“Already am,” he murmured with another tender bite. “You just don’t realize it yet.” He tugged a glove from his belt and slipped it over my hand, then repeated the action with my other, minus the nip. When he was satisfied with the fit, he put on his own pair and handed me a pruner. It was much heavier than a pair of scissors. When I said that out loud, he laughed.

“They’re sharper too,” he said. “All right, so I chose this spot because it looks like someone pruned up until this point. So you can start here and work your way back toward the entrance. If you finish before lunch, then you can start on the other side of the row and work back to this point. Good?”

“Yep. Question, though. How can you tell the others pruned until this point?”

“Shading. See how thinned out this vine is compared to the one next to it?”

I studied it with a frown. “Not really, no. I mean, they look almost the same.”

“That’s because Joe has done a good job maintaining the vineyard, but you can see where this one was freshly pruned here to maximize shading over the grapes here. And it looks like two clusters sprouted off this shoot, so someone trimmed the excess.” He gestured to something light-colored on the ground.

“And you noticed that just by walking down the vineyard?”

He chuckled. “Experience, darlin’.”

“I’m nowhere near that good.”

“We’ll get you there. How about I demonstrate on this first one, and then you can try the next one while I watch?” He grabbed what he referred to as a shoot. “See how there are two clusters? We only want one, and it’s best to trim the excess in the summer to help the grapes grow. So I’ll trim the smaller one, which will allow the bigger one to grow.”

“And when they’re fully ripe, you pick them all by hand?” He mentioned the other day that he didn’t use machines to pick grapes during the harvest.

“Yup.”

“Wow.”

“Now you’re getting it,” he replied as he snipped the smaller cluster. “All right, shading . . .” He continued his spiel by going into a diatribe about the sun and where it hit the vines in this row. By the end, I had enough understanding to repeat his actions on the next set and only managed to make one mistake.

“It’s the smaller cluster, but it’ll be fine,” he murmured. “You’ll get it. Next time we’ll master rounding, but this will work for now.”

“What’s rounding?”

“It’s where you snip the bottom of the grape cluster to make them round. It improves the size of the fruit.”

That sounded complicated. “Uh, if you say so.”

He grinned. “I do. All right, I think you’ve got this. I need to help Joe with the netting, but I’ll be back to check on you in an hour or so. Okay?”

I focused on an overgrown leaf and clipped the stem. “Yep.”

“One more thing.” His bare palm slipped to the back of my neck before I realized what was happening, and his lips captured mine. I stood frozen with my gloved hands out to the side, worried I might stick him with the pruner. He tilted my head to the angle he preferred and gently slipped his tongue into my mouth. This wasn’t like the hungry mating of mouths on his balcony, but that didn’t make it any less potent. Because this man knew how to deliver a kiss. It left me shaking as he pulled back to stare down into my eyes. “Did I mention how much I like this outfit?” he whispered.

I swallowed. “Maybe once or twice.”

“Thank you for helping today.”

“If this is my payment, then consider me willing to help anytime.” The words were out before I could catch them. Oh well. That didn’t make them any less true.

He smiled against my lips. “Duly noted.” His mouth took mine again in a brief kiss before he pulled back. The palm on my neck slipped down to my ass, where he landed a resounding slap. “Now back to work, darlin’.”

I gasped at his retreating form. “You did not just smack my ass!” I called after him. Except he did. I could feel the burn through the fabric of my jeans.

He turned to walk backwards through the vineyards, his lips curling. “I did, and I’ll do it again.”

“Try it, and it won’t be this vine I’m pruning, Mershano.” I waved the weapon menacingly, but all he did was laugh.

“Feisty,” he returned.

“Cocky,” I threw back. “Ass,” I added as I massaged my rear end. It both stung and tingled. I’d have to return the favor later and see how he liked it.