Love in the Vineyard (Tavonesi #7)(58)

He tilted his head. “You didn’t enjoy the game?”

“I loved it,” she said honestly, trying to keep her fantasies from roaring into full bloom.

“Well, Zoe’s team got lucky with that last goal, but don’t ever tell her I said that—she’d have my head. And it didn’t help that our Prince Charming wasn’t much help today. Flying around doing the Queen’s bidding has him out of practice.” His words were lighthearted, but the energy she felt emanating between them was laced with sexual tension. Or was that her imagination?

“You must be exhausted,” she said, fighting back the urge to kiss him.

“Seeing you has revived me,” he said. “Let’s go somewhere where we can talk. Are you up for a wander?”

“Now?”

He held out his hand. “Let’s escape all this madness. I know just the place.”

She took his hand. And discovered it wasn’t her imagination—the warmth that flooded her had nothing to do with the temperature of his skin. And when he tucked her arm into the crook of his and guided her out of the tent, her nerves danced with a joy she couldn’t fight.

Within minutes they were passing through an older section of the vineyard she’d never visited.

Silence wasn’t her friend right now. In silence her imagination would take flight. Further flight. Her fantasies would try their best to carry her away. Some days she wished she could just fly with them; today was one of those days. “Those gnarled trunks have seen decades of days come and go. Do you know who planted these vines?”

Adrian squeezed her hand against his arm and smiled down at her. “I love that you see what hardly anyone else does. I’ve been looking into the history of this place. My father bought it in a hurry, and the family that sold it hadn’t paid attention to it for years. And until the local growers get over their wariness, I’ll just have to do the research myself.” He stopped in front of a small, arched wooden door covering a space carved into a hillside. “Unless you’d like to help me. I could use a curious mind on the task.”

Task. Research. He couldn’t know the dull thud both words landed in her heart.

“I have my hands pretty full with the garden work.”

“I meant to ask—how is Enrique working out?”

Of course he wanted to talk about work. Hadn’t his sisters said that was all he thought about? She was a part of his plans, of his projects.

“He’s great, thank you. He’s a quick study.”

“That’s a relief. Coco has saddled me with more of her wandering souls than I can count. Sometimes I think her heart is too big for this world.”

Natasha considered his words. Was she another of those wandering souls? And though he made an effort to distinguish himself from his sister, from what she’d seen of Adrian, his heart wasn’t exactly hardened. His na?veté both charmed her and had her worried for him.

He released her hand and turned the handle on the carved wooden door.

“I discovered this spot a couple weeks ago.” The door creaked as he opened it. His boyish smile told her of his delight with his find. “The hinges need oiling, but the door’s still functional. Have a look.” He motioned her inside.

She stepped into the cool, dark space. A musky scent rose as the cool air swirled and mixed with the warmer air of the vineyard behind them.

“This is the original wine cave,” he practically whispered. “Why no one used it these past years is beyond me. It’s much better than the warehouse near town.”

He was so close she felt the heat of him. She closed her eyes and imagined the years of activity the cave had known. Wondered if lovers had ever met and explored one another in the darkness. And caught herself wishing once again.

“It stretches in for about a hundred yards.”

Natasha heard the delight in his voice.

He struck a match. The flickering light illuminated his face. But the smoldering gaze he held her with lit a fire in her she would never quench.

He tipped the match to a candle in an iron holder on the wall. It flamed to life, spreading a soft halo of light.

And before she could take a breath, he gathered her in his arms.





An uncontrollable growl churned out of Adrian as Natasha parted her lips and met his kiss.

He hadn’t planned on kissing her; he’d wanted her to make the first move. To invite him to be her lover, to renew the sexual connection he’d craved since the moment she’d left his bed. He’d planned to just show her the cave—she was the first person he’d thought of when he’d discovered it.

But the passion she met him with drove him to deepen the kiss and to pull her tight against him.

Perhaps an invitation wasn’t as important as he’d thought.

She tasted like sunlight and champagne and heat and want. He was never letting her go. The surety of his thought shocked through him.

Never.

Unless his attentions were unwanted.

He wasn’t fool enough to think that anything he could do or say could hold her to him against her will. He wouldn’t want to have her like that. He had friends who’d pressured the women they’d been captivated by—sometimes obsessed with—to marry. Men who had dangled their wealth as an irresistible lure and who hoped that eventually their wives would come to love them. Such ploys never worked.