When We Met (Fool's Gold #13)(11)

She wore her black hair long and loose. Minimal daily products, plenty of conditioner and weekly scalp treatments kept her hair in decent shape. She’d been pleasantly surprised to discover that she could get her favorite hair gloss applied every six weeks here, just as she had done back in L.A.

She pulled her hair back in a cloth headband and washed her face. Then she reapplied her makeup, paying close attention to her eyes. She was going to be wearing black, so she wanted to emphasize her eye shape and color. When she was done with that, she applied a faint shimmering body lotion to her chest, shoulders, arms and legs.

After penciling in a nearly nude lip color, she returned to her bedroom and stepped into the closet. She already knew what she was going to wear—she’d made her decision as soon as she’d seen the invitation. If Angel wanted to play games, she was willing to play them with him. But she was equally determined that she would be the winner.

To that end, she removed her bra and then stepped into the strapless black dress she’d chosen. From the front, it was simple—fitted and nearly to the knee. But in the back it dipped to hip level. Every time she moved, the fabric shifted as if the viewer were going to see something he shouldn’t. A killer dress, she thought with a smile. Perfect for a former sniper.

The best part was she would pair the dress with a classic black blazer. With the jacket, the outfit was conservative enough for work. But without...

She studied her shoes and chose a pair of Dolce & Gabbana lace pumps with four-inch heels. She wasn’t usually a lace-and-bow kind of woman, but these were both sexy and sophisticated. Of course they were D&G, so it wasn’t as though she could actually go wrong.

She stepped into the shoes and then studied herself in the mirror. Jewelry should be simple, she thought, and went with diamond studs that Jack had given her when their divorce was final.

She transferred the items she would need for that night to a black silk clutch, then headed out the door.

Condor Valley Winery was set in the foothills, just above the vineyards. Although the sign in the parking lot said they closed at five this time of year, she parked by the main doors and walked up the paved path. She had no doubt that Angel would have made special arrangements. He was a man used to getting his way and he wouldn’t let a little thing like regular business hours deter him.

Sure enough a woman in her earlier twenties was waiting inside. She smiled. “Ms. Crawford?”

“Yes.”

“If you’ll follow me, please.”

The woman led Taryn to a small elevator that whisked them to the third floor. From there they went into what looked like a private library—a room filled with built-in bookcases and comfortable, black leather furniture. Double doors stood open and led to a large balcony with a bistro table and two chairs. From where she stood, Taryn could see the whole valley and the sun just beginning to set. Any chill was chased away by the portable heaters set up around the table.

“Let me get your appetizers,” the woman said, and excused herself.

A minute or so later she was back with two plates of small bites. Once she placed them on the table, she returned to the library and collected a bottle of red wine and two glasses. She expertly opened the wine but didn’t pour, then smiled at Taryn and left.

Taryn stepped out onto the balcony and breathed in the night air. Anticipation settled low in her belly, but there was also a kind of quiet comfort. It had been a long time since a man had taken care of her this way. Or maybe the fault was hers—maybe it had been too long since she’d let someone take care of her.

“Good evening.”

She turned and saw Angel standing in the doorway. He looked tall and broad—imposing in a black shirt and black pants.

“Hello,” she said, staying where she was, wanting him to come to her.

He didn’t disappoint. He closed the space between them and took her hands in his. “You came.”

“You’re not surprised.”

One eyebrow rose. “Maybe I am.”

She laughed. “I doubt that. Thank you for my orchid. It’s very beautiful.”

“It reminded me of you.”

His hands were warm, his grip gentle. He didn’t try to pull her close or make her feel as if he wouldn’t let go. A clever strategy because she found herself wanting to step nearer.

In her four-inch heels, she was nearly his height, so contortions would not be required if they were to kiss. She could just ease forward and find out if the faint heat sweeping through her was all about possibilities or if there was reality to the quivering.

Or not, she thought as she carefully took a single step back.

He released her instantly, then gestured to the chairs by the table. “Shall we?”

When they were seated, Angel poured them each a glass of wine. “This Cab is from their library collection. Aged longer than most of the wine they sell. It’s smooth, with a surprising finish.”

She hung her bag over the handle of her chair, then reached for the glass. “Why do I get the idea you’re talking about more than the wine? Although I’m not comfortable being described as aged.”

“Maybe I wasn’t talking about you,” he said, his gray eyes settling on her face.

“Yourself, then.” She tilted her head. “Yes, I can see that. Although I have some concerns about the surprising finish. What does that mean? A little squeak? A fist pump? Should I be worried?”