Something had changed.
Caterina walked toward the blending room, seeking out some silence and solace. Another week had passed. Seven days, where she’d spent most of her waking hours with Rip, learning the day-to-day requirements of the winery. Seven days of feeling torn between running Winsor on her own, something she now felt capable of doing, or running it with Rip.
The dynamics between them had started to shift. Her anger had started to fade, and in the short time since she’d returned home, Cat found herself falling for him all over again.
Watching him with those little girls, wearing a grass crown with pride, throwing himself into their game with pure intentions—that had touched her heart.
Working together had given her a glimpse of what their life could be like—professionally as well as personally. She’d discovered a routine she relished, which worked in perfect complement to what Rip excelled at. For the first time, she felt needed. She felt like she’d found a place she belonged to all over again.
On her own terms.
Today’s delivery had shown the kindness of the man who might one day be her husband. She’d opened up several boxes to find a mass of materials—supple leather, exquisite beading, buckles, and clasps, and an amazing array of accessories to design her handbags. The envelope had included only his signature.
And one perfect red rose.
Caterina sighed and stepped down into the cellar. Breathing in the familiar cool, dank air, she passed the steel vaults holding valuable grape blends and endless oak barrels, all marked in a strict timeline. As she made her way farther down the halls, another scent rose in the air—a scent she was beginning to crave on a regular basis. The scent of man and soap and musk, uniquely his.
“Were you looking for me?”
The gravelly voice stroked her ears and tumbled her belly. She eased deeper into the dim light and found him perched on a low barrel, a few glasses by his elbow. Three bottles were lined up and uncorked in front of him. He wore the black T-shirt she’d bought him declaring Bread or Death, and the snug fabric hugged his broad shoulders and chest. His powerful legs were stretched out, and he regarded her with a lazy predatory ease that made her heart stumble. His fingers clasped the stem of the glass, and Caterina remembered the glide of his hands over her naked body, the sheer strength combined with a shattering tenderness that blasted through her defenses. His dark eyes flared, as if he’d caught the same memory.
She cleared her throat and took a few steps forward. “Nice shirt.”
His lips tugged up in a half smile. “One of my favorites. Reminds me of you.”
The simple words cut deep, past the carefully built barriers of her heart. She shifted her weight, fighting the need to go to him and hold him close. “I wanted to thank you for the supplies you sent. That was very thoughtful.”
He arched one black brow. “You’re welcome.”
A short silence settled between them. The finely tuned sexual tension stretched tight. She pulled in a breath.
“I don’t want you to feel like you were forced to give up your dreams to return home. Have you been happy working at the winery?”
She blinked. It was rare anyone ever asked if she was happy doing anything. Caterina pondered his question. “Yes. It feels different this time. The changes you instituted give the place a freshness and new energy. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about the additional structure being built. I think we need to think bigger than parties. A wedding venue on our grounds would be a huge draw here. I’d like to speak to an architect about installing a permanent overhang so we could have ceremonies and receptions without worry about weather. What do you think?”
He cocked his head. “I think it’s a great idea. I’ve been interested in expanding to weddings but haven’t had the time to take it on.”
“I could reach out to a few architects and get some plans drawn up with costs. Then reach out to some local caterers to see what types of packages we could offer.”
“Yes. But I’m slammed with other stuff—can you run with this?”
“I’d love to.”
“Then it’s your project. Just let me know how I can help.”
Satisfaction rushed through her. Rip trusted her. The past two weeks had shown he valued her opinion and wasn’t just trying to humor her when she brought up new ideas. For the first time, she felt like Winsor Winery truly belonged to her. It was a precious gift.
And this man had given it to her.
“Thank you.” They stared at one another. Awareness surged between them. “What are you doing?” she finally asked.
“Taste testing. You came at a perfect time.” He lifted the glass, swirling it around. “I need you to try this competitor’s wine and tell me what you think.”
She cocked her head, studying the intense frown on his face. Her hands itched to smooth the crease away, run her fingers down his stubbled cheek, trace the sulky curve of those lips. She swallowed, smothering the hot bolt of sensual attraction that tugged at her belly and softened her sex. “Sure.”
His voice dropped. “Come here.”
She closed the distance between them on shaky legs, reaching out for the glass he’d been swirling in contemplation, already making note of the splash of the legs against the sides. He took her by surprise by lifting the glass and pressing the rim to her lips. “Close your eyes,” he demanded softly, and automatically, she obeyed. “Smell.”
She took a deep breath. Blackberry. A hint of currant. A touch of orange.
“Now, drink.”
He tilted the glass and she drank. She held the cool liquid in her mouth for a moment, allowing the flavors to warm, letting her Winsor palate take over. Her blood heated as the florals took hold and tried to take her on that glorious slide of pleasure, but it was suddenly over and everything went flat.
Her eyes flew open.
“What do you think?”
His eyes were so dark, seething with a passion that stole her breath. He looked at her like that every day, his gaze hungrily roving over her, but it was the tenderness that always shook her to the core. The gentle touch of his fingers when he pushed her hair from her cheek, or the intimate smile when he caught her gaze across a room, or even when she’d stumbled in those Gucci heels and he’d carried her back to the house, insisting she change her shoes so she wouldn’t get hurt. He was overprotective and domineering, yet kind.
“Caterina? What do you think?”
She blinked, trying to surface. “It’s good.”
His lips tugged slightly upward. “Anything else?”
“The blend is full-bodied and complex. But the flavors are short-lived. It needs…” She broke off, struggling to put her thoughts into words.
Rip bent closer. His lips hovered inches from hers. “More?”
An explosion of heat rocked through her. A whirling array of images flickered in her vision. Images of his hands over her skin, whispering demands in her ear, thrusting into her body as he commanded she give him more…
“More what, Caterina?” he asked. His hand traced the line of her jaw, down to her beating pulse, over her shoulder, across the swell of her breasts. Her heartbeat thundered at the light strokes of those talented fingers. Her nipples hardened and pushed against her blouse in a demand to be freed. “Tell me what you think it needs.”
Her voice was ripped from her throat. “More passion.” She trembled, caught on the precipice of backing up and moving closer. “More richness.” Her tongue slid along her bottom lip to catch the last ruby drop of liquid. An animal groan escaped his chest. “More heat.”
The silence pulsed with unspoken demands. Slowly, he placed the glass down. She caught the tremble in his hand and knew he was just as affected, the crackling sexual tension ready to ignite between them. He cleared his throat. “Very good. Now, I want you to taste one of ours. It’s a new blend I’ve been working on.” He handed her a bottle of water and she drank to cleanse her palate. Then he took the other bottle of wine and poured a new glass, duplicating his motions. She noticed the legs were stronger on this one, the rhythmic swirl of the liquid almost hypnotizing. “Close your eyes.”
She obeyed.
“Smell.”
The aroma rose to her nostrils. Like the first, she scented berries and currant, but there was an undercurrent of smokiness—mixed with a hint of dark chocolate. The complexity was heaven to her nose.
“Now, taste.”
The rim was pressed to her lips and she opened her senses. The ruby liquid slid over her tongue and burst into bright florals of deep berries. This time, the flavors softened as she held it in her mouth, and the smooth smokiness lingered, stretching out into various notes as she swallowed. The tannins were rich without a bitter aftertaste, and she immediately craved another taste, her brain scrambling to make sense of the beautiful tones.
She opened her eyes. His gaze burned and ate her alive, and without thought, she lifted her arms to grip his shoulders. “The aroma seduced me.”
“And? Tell me more.”
She shuddered at his raw, almost carnal demand. “This time, the flavors lingered. It started off bright and fresh, then turned darker and more intense.”
Her nails bit into hard muscle. A groan ripped from his lips. “Did my blend give you more? Did it give you what you crave from a wine?”
She tipped her head back with an open invitation. Intense hunger exploded in her belly, traveling like wildfire through her body, heating up her blood. “It was real,” she whispered. “The first promised but didn’t deliver.”
His palms rested on each side of her head as his mouth descended. His breath rushed warmly over her lips. “You’re right. Our competitor held back. When the winemaker is afraid of being overwhelmed by raw form, the product will be flat. On the surface the wine will look normal, but the trick will be discovered the moment someone tastes it. The emotions may have been avoided, but the product will be lifeless.” His voice shook with promise. “I would never make such a mistake.”
His mouth stamped over hers.
He kissed her with all the pent-up passion that had been building over the last two weeks, thrusting his tongue deep inside and gathering her taste. She clutched at his shoulders and matched every demand with her own, her nails sinking deep into his muscles, opening her mouth wider for him.
He pulled her tight against him, his hands cupping her ass and lifting her onto his lap. Her legs wrapped around his hips, his erection notched between her thighs as he kept kissing her, deep and hard, his tongue claiming her with every fierce stroke. “I’ve missed you so damn much,” he muttered, nipping at her bottom lip, then soothing with his tongue.
“I’ve missed you, too,” she admitted, arching back with invitation, desperate to touch and taste every part of him. He pressed kisses down her neck, biting the sensitive flesh, and she slid her hands under his shirt to stroke his hair-roughened chest, reveling in each hard muscle that jumped under her touch.
He muttered something under his breath—either a curse or a prayer—and rocked her against his erection. She squeezed her thighs tight and buried her face in his neck as every muscle in her body tightened with the aching need for release. His hands stroked her back, cupped her breast, tweaked the hard nipple, lighting every part of her on fire, until an itchy, empty hunger burned.
“Need more,” she gasped, her hips rolling with her own demand. “Please.”
He growled her name, kissing her deeply, and worked his hand down the front of her jeans, his fingers just touching the lacy edge of her underwear. “My God, you’re on fire for me. So sweet, so perfect. I have to touch you.”
“Yes, touch me, Rip—”
“Caterina? Ripley? Are you down here?”
She froze at the sound of her father’s voice. Rip cursed, his hand shaking as he withdrew and quickly slid her off his lap, righting her. With adept, gentle fingers, he fixed her tousled clothing, then gave her a burning look. “Your father has terrible timing,” he said, frustration nipping at his voice. “Stand in front of me.”
She dragged in a shaky breath and tried not to sway on her feet. “And if I move?”
“Your father’s going to get a big surprise.”
A giggle escaped her lips. His face softened, amusement curving his lips, and she raised her voice. “Papa, we’re in here.”
“Oh, sorry to interrupt. Are you tasting the new Merlot you blended, Rip?”
“That’s right. I was getting Caterina’s opinion.”
Her father glanced at both of them, his blue eyes lighting up with a joyous satisfaction. “Good, very good. I just wanted to tell you both I’ll be gone for the weekend. My friend Daniel invited me to stay with him at his vineyard in Long Island. He knows I’ll be leaving for Florida soon, so I wanted to make the trip while I’m still here.”
“That sounds like fun,” she said, smiling. “Tell him I said hello and hopefully we can have him over for a visit.”
“Sounds good. Now I’ll leave you alone to finish your wine tasting.”
Cat glanced over. The banked promise of finishing what they started gleamed in Rip’s inky eyes, and suddenly she panicked, needing the space. It had only been two weeks and already her emotions ran deep. Each encounter she spent with her prospective husband solidified their connection and pushed her closer to admitting she was falling in love with him all over again. If she took him into her bed, she’d have no place left to hide.
She had to be completely sure.
“I’ll go with you, Papa,” she said, quickly joining his side. Rip frowned, but didn’t call her back. “I have some things to finish up. I’ll see you later, Rip.”
She turned, but his gravelly voice rose in the air with an intimate promise.
“Presto, Caterina.”
She shivered, her mind flicking to the image of one perfect red rose, then Rip’s determined face.
She didn’t look back as she raced up the stairs with her father safely beside her.
* * * *
She was still running from him.
Rip uttered a curse and paced in the darkness of his bedroom. A few nights ago, he’d sensed her opening up to him in the cellars, and when he’d kissed her, she’d practically burned up in his arms. He knew if he’d pushed, he’d be sinking between her thighs and buried in her sweet, hot heat. He dreamed of the tiny cries she made at the back of her throat when he kissed her, and the way her hands trembled when she touched him, almost reverently, making him feel like a god. He craved her like his next breath. She was slowly driving him insane.
But he’d sworn to give her time. He never thought he’d want anything as bad as Winsor Winery—the ultimate symbol of achievement and success in a world that had mocked him.
Until Caterina Winsor.
He realized he wanted her more.
Rip glanced at the clock. Almost midnight. She wasn’t coming to him tonight.
Slowly, he walked over to the adjoining door and pressed his palm against the wood. Struggled with the need to push it open and seduce her into admitting she loved him. Each day, he watched her soften and open up more. Each day, he hoped she would look in his eyes and realize the truth of his feelings.
But it had to be on her terms.
Then he could finally claim her forever.
He dropped his hand from the door.
And made his way back to his lonely bed.