Be Mine Forever (A St. Helena Vineyard Novel) (23 page)

“And now?” she whispered.

“Not realizing sooner that it just wasn’t our time. We both had lives to live, families to raise, with other people, before our journey could begin.” Charles took ChiChi’s hand in his. They were both shaking. “You once asked me to let you know when I was done being angry. Well, I’m done, Chiara, and I would be the happiest man here if you’d allow me the honor of pinning you.”

“I’ve been waiting a long time to get pinned by you Charlie,” ChiChi said saucily as Charles slid the corsage on her wrist. “You’d better be worth the wait.”

Trey cleared his throat. “You’re in a crowded ballroom, Nonna, with your grandchildren around you.”

But she wasn’t listening, she was too busy staring at the corsage. It had a cluster of bright-blue flowers with a few sprigs of lavender.

“Forget-me-nots,” she said, then looked up, her face firm. “You buy these from Deidra?”

“No, ma’am, picked them myself.”

“From my garden,” Lucinda said breathlessly and she scurried over, Pricilla on her heels—both of them moving Charles aside. “Sorry to interrupt, but this is a matter of the cheat’s been caught.”

“We’ve got the proof,” Pricilla said excitedly, her pudgy hands rubbing together.

“Mary Lambert says Deidra’s been buying dye from the same supplier that she uses for the Prune and Clip. Can you imagine, hair dye in flowers?” Lucinda said. “The supplier told Mary that Deidra keeps it behind the water fountain.”

“All we have to do is take the mayor down there and show him, and she’ll be disqualified.”

“But we gotta go now,” Lucinda said.

ChiChi looked at Charles, who was slowly backing away and sending Artie the band leader a panicked expression. “I can’t right now.”

“You’ve got to,” Lucinda demanded, her voice shrill. “The MC will be reading the winner’s name in just a few minutes. And once the name’s read, she’ll win.” Lucinda looked between ChiChi and her brother and then to the corsage. “He’ll understand. Right, Charles?”

“You go,” Charles said and Sara wanted to cry for him. “I’ve waited sixty years, I can wait another twenty minutes.”

ChiChi looked at the red-and-silver Best Winter Garden in Show sash that hung on display across the podium, at the trophy that sat up top, and then back at Charles. “I can’t.”

Everyone stared wide-eyed as ChiChi walked away from her chance to take down the great Deidra Potter, in the name of bamboozled green thumbs everywhere, for a chance at romance.

Charles smiled and Sara cried—just a little—when he bent at the waist and, hanging his cane over his forearm, extended his hand. “Chiara, may I have this dance?”

She took his hand. “If you play your cards right, you can have my whole dance card.”

And as if the night couldn’t be any more perfect, the lights dimmed and Artie gave the signal. The first few strings of “At Last”
eased over the crowd as Charles took his first and last love to the center of the room. Pulling her into his arms, Sara watched with her heart in her throat as he took his first step toward recapturing old memories and creating happier times.

“You knew about this?” Trey asked, his rich voice sending tingles across her bare back. Or maybe it was the heat of his hands resting just below the dangling string of pearls as he eased her into his arms.

“He’s my special private,” she finally admitted, her hands taking a little detour of their own, to move over the ridges of his chest before wrapping around his shoulder.

“Old man Charles?” Trey laughed, and what a great laugh it was. It was deep and relaxed and real. In fact, everything about him looked relaxed and lighter, as if a big piece of the world had just been taken off of his shoulders. “Do you know how many nights I stayed up obsessing about who your privates were with?”

“You thought it was Roman, didn’t you?”

He leaned down, his lips grazing her ear. “I didn’t care who it was with. It wasn’t me.”

Sara had to force herself to swallow. Trey pulled back enough to lock gazes, his intense eyes drank her in like he wanted to fill up her dance card. And maybe for longer than February.

His hand stayed in the perfect place for the proper dance position, but his thumb traced back and forth across her bare skin. “Is this dress a test?”

“Why, are you afraid you’ll fail?”

“I hate to fail.” He trailed a single finger along the string of pearls to the lower edge of her dress. “Then again, no one’s perfect.”

“You’re pretty close,” she whispered. He expertly led her in a series of sweeping turns that had their bodies brushing and her heart skipping. “What were you and ChiChi talking about during your dance?”

Trey faltered for only a half-beat, but Sara noticed. Just like she noticed the way his shoulders tensed slightly. She ran a hand to the base of his neck and gently rubbed until he took a deep breath and let it out.

“About knowing when to hold on and when to move on.”

“Where are you at?” she asked, looking up at him. “Holding on or moving on?”

The minute the words left her mouth, Sara found breathing difficult. She was ready to move on. With Trey. Only he was moving on to Italy. She didn’t know how they could make it work but she was willing to put her heart out there and give it a try. Except he had to be willing to meet her halfway.

“I’m ready to move on,” he said and Sara felt her stomach bottom out. Did he mean move on, as in pizzas and Ferraris—and without her? Or move on from what he’d been running from?

As if sensing her panic, he leaned down and brushed her lips in a kiss. Not even a kiss really, just a gentle connection that slid all the way to her toes. “But tonight I realized that even though I’m ready to let go, to move on, there are certain things I can’t walk away from. Things I don’t want to walk away from.”

“What kind of things?” She needed to know. Because that just sounded like a declaration of some kind.

When he only smiled, pulling her closer until her cheek was resting against his shoulder, she breathed him in and listened to the steady beat of his heart over the music.

Trey’s hands brushed lower, as though testing to see just how far the dress line plunged—one more inch and she might melt into a puddle at his feet.

“Did you know,” she said quietly, “aster flowers close their petals when it rains? Supposedly fairies take shelter beneath the petals.”

“Fairies, huh?” he murmured and she felt him smile against her hair.

“It’s their sanctuary from the storm.”

Trey pulled her even closer and whispered, “Kind of like you, Sara.”

CHAPTER 16

I
think this is where you’re supposed to kiss me,” Trey said, standing by the door to his suite. He’d been dying to get Sara out of that dress ever since she walked into the Gala. It was the new
numero uno
on his bucket list. Hell, getting her out of that dress obliterated the list. But a deal was a deal, and he wanted pretty words. “And make it good.”

With a smile, Sara closed the distance, the skirt of her dress brushing his thighs as she walked him back a few inches until the door was pressed at his back, and she was pressed at his front, causing a whole lot of pressing to go on in his pants.

She rose up on her toes, leaning into him until she was plastered against him, stopping when they were close enough to share the same breath. She didn’t look away, didn’t go in for the kill, instead met his gaze and held it as she tugged his lower lip between her teeth.

“Make it
good
or make it
fuck-yeah
,” she whispered, her mouth brushing his with every word.

Normally he’d go for the
fuck-yeah
, he always went for the
fuck-yeah
. But for some reason, it didn’t fit tonight, didn’t fit him anymore, which made no sense.

The air around them simmered with growing sexual heat and Trey’s body was all but high-fiving its way out of his clothes. The woman had him so primed, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it to the bedroom, and yet the only words that came to mind were “Real. Make it real.”

“Real is my specialty.” She pressed her mouth to his, her lashes fluttered closed and—specialty was an understatement. Her kiss officially blew his mind. It was everything that he needed and nothing that he’d ever felt before. All of the crazy emotions from the evening, and the gentle way her lips caressed his, tangled into one complicated lump in his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss until he didn’t know if he’d be able to let her go.

Which was the only excuse he had for lifting her in his arms and carrying her into his suite. Kicking the door closed, he never let go of her mouth as he moved her into the bedroom with the sole intention of getting her into his bed. Immediately.

Only when he got there, he remembered the back of her dress—and the single strand of pearls holding the entire thing together like a gift begging to be unwrapped, and decided to set her on her feet. Right next to the bed. Then he pulled back to just look at her.

“Why are we stopping?” She stared back for several long seconds, then a teasing smile appeared, flashing that dimple that he adored. “Is it because you like me too much?”

“I can’t stop, because I like you too much.” Neither could his hands, which were on her hips gliding up her ribcage and sneaking around the back side, inches from her breasts. He smiled when her breath caught, only to release when he didn’t make direct contact. “I just wanted to test a theory.”

He reached behind her with one hand to flip the clasp of the pearls and watch as—holy hell—he fucking knew it. The dress swept down her body and pooled at her feet—leaving her in nothing but her heels.

“Christ,” he groaned, taking in every inch of her.

She was perfect. Compact, curvy, and everything he could ever want. And for tonight, she was his. A little voice inside of him said that it could be for longer, all he needed to do was tell her that he didn’t want this to end.

“Well, I want to test out your bed,” she said, doing some pretty blatant staring of her own. “But no matter how hard I try, I don’t think your clothes will come off with one sweep of the hand.”

It didn’t mean that she didn’t drive him insane in the process. She pushed his jacket to the floor, smoothed her palms down his chest, across his stomach, and right over his hard ridge to take him in her hand. The heat from her touch seeped through the wool of his pants as she caressed and gently squeezed before lowering the zipper and—
hello
—Trey’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“Christ,” he growled again because, how could he not? Her elegant fingers were firmly wrapped around him, stroking him from base to tip, driving him so completely out of his mind.

“I guess I
can
get you off with one sweep of the hand,” she whispered, giving another long caress. “But I want to see you first.”

Which worked for him, except she was no longer stroking, she was stripping, making quick work of his clothes. Finished, thank God, because her hands were back on him, not where he wanted, but close enough. She walked him back until he was sitting on the end of the bed, completely naked, and the girl of his dreams straddled him.

“God, you feel good.” He immediately reached for the globes of her ass—his second-favorite part, right after her smile—and pulled her against him.

She groaned and, pressing his erection between their bodies, rose up and rubbed herself deliciously down his length. The friction of her smooth skin was almost too good to handle, so of course she did it again.

“Much more of that and you will charm us into the grand finale before I even get to appreciate the opening act.”

“We have all night,” she said and—lucky guy that he was—did another long sweep of her heat all the way up his outer ridge. “You can appreciate later.”

“I want to appreciate now
and
later.”

Not wanting to risk her moving again, he rolled over, pinning her to the bed and dropped an openmouthed kiss to the valley between her breasts. Since he was in the neighborhood, he moved up and paid a lengthy visit to a particular pair of perfect breasts, making her arch off the bed. Which was brilliant on his part because one more little roll of her hips and he was either a) going to go off like some teenager and embarrass himself, or b) start spouting sonnets that compared her incredible body to a Ferrari and embarrass himself.

Her coming apart in his arms was the better option if he wanted the night to go as planned. And the morning.

God, thinking about waking up with her next to him, soft and sleepy and sliding her leg over his thigh so he could help ease her into the morning by easing himself into her had him right back to almost embarrassing himself. Because Trey didn’t do morning-afters and he certainly didn’t do morning-after brunch. The idea usually made him want to run. Only with Sara it made him want to stay—for a long time.

Whatever was happening between them felt real and right, like he was on the edge of the biggest moment of his life. But what if it only felt temporary for her?

Like an idiot, he’d told her that she was his sanctuary and she’d told him she was his
…
for as long as you’re here.
His stomach knotted and he found even breathing hurt. Those were her exact words. And—

“Trey,” she said, framing his face with her hands. That one simple contact was everything that he needed. “It’s okay, I feel it too.”

“Thank God,” was all he could manage before they were kissing and—
holy hell
—it was a sudden slam-to-the chest, life-altering kiss that went from zero to everything from this day forward in no time flat.

Her skin was hot beneath his palms as they slid over her breasts and lower, until he met hot, wet skin.

Oh yeah
, one touch and she was already making those noises he loved so much. Two passes and she bit his lip—hard. The third pass, he slid a finger inside and she gasped, her body tightening round him, almost begging him to go deeper. So he did and her hands fisted in his hair.

“Trey,” she panted, her chest rising and falling with every labored breath. “Can you…that thing…I like it when you—”

Her words caught on a cry, because he knew exactly what she liked. Knew what turned her on, what made her cry out in sheer unadulterated pleasure—and knew that what he was feeling right now was different—that he could never go back to the way things were.

Not with his family, not with his job, and not with her. Sara moved into his heart and made herself at home, giving him things that he’d been too scared to even contemplate having before. More important, she made him believe that he deserved them.

Made him believe that he deserved her.

“Trey,” she whispered, gently pushing against his hand.

“I got you,” he promised, keeping the pace slow, driving her right to the edge and back, waiting for her eyes to flutter closed, for her to turn her head, because staying still was too hard. Instead she held his gaze, never once looking away, even when he finally took her there and she melted into him.

He wanted to take it slow, worship every inch of her, so when her legs wrapped around his middle and she arched up, he kissed his way down the path she was clearly indicating, devoting special attention to her breasts. But when he realized that she was reaching for the box of condoms he’d put on the nightstand, he got on board immediately.

In two seconds he was wrapped and ready and sliding home in one long thrust. They both moaned and even before he could catch his breath, she lifted her hips, taking him all the way, and giving some little twist at the top that made the room spin.

“Hold up,” he whispered, gripping her hips and stilling her, because that’s just what she felt like—home. He laced their fingers and pinned them over her head. “Just give me a minute.”

A minute to process what he was feeling. To try and understand what she was doing to him.

“Trey, you can have me as long as you want.”

He looked down at her and that’s when he saw it. That same look ChiChi got when she talked about her husband. That same smile his mom saved for his dad when they thought no one was looking. And he got that same feeling in his chest that Gabe had been talking about.

Everything went into slow motion and Trey realized that he might just take forever.

“Does anyone in this family ever knock?” Trey asked Abby, tugging a T-shirt over his head and closing the door on the gloriously naked woman sleeping in his bed. Okay, so she wasn’t sleeping, she was in a post-orgasm coma, and it wasn’t
his
bed, since he didn’t own one.

Something that, after last night, he was giving serious consideration to changing. But to own a bed meant he needed his own place, and since the reason for his sudden change in priorities lived in St. Helena, he was considering all kinds of things. For example, he thought, glaring at Abby who was making herself right at home on his couch, no spare keys would be given out. Except to Sara.

“It’s after ten, which means any reason to knock is already gone,” Abby said, waggling her brows. “I guess today’s special.”

She had no idea.

“You want to talk about it?” she asked, pulling her legs beneath her.

It must be the overexposure to estrogen, because he did. He wanted to tell his sister that he’d met a freaking amazing woman and he didn’t know where it was going to lead exactly, only that it was somewhere he wanted to be. And if that wasn’t reason enough to kick her out, Sara was just a room away.

“Want to talk about why you weren’t at the Gala last night?” he asked, walking over to the coffeemaker and starting a pot.

“You don’t want to talk about who’s in your room?” Abby shrugged. “Got it. But it makes me think that she must be pretty special to make you smile before you’ve had your coffee.” When Trey said nothing, she went on, “I mean, you’re glowing.”

“Maybe it’s from hanging out with pregnant women for three weeks,” he mumbled.

“I can’t believe that Peg Stark won Best Winter Garden in Show.”

Trey grabbed two mugs, holding them up to indicate he wanted to get back to his guest in case Abby had any ideas of staying. She shook her head, as though he’d just offered her coffee. Defeated, he set them on the counter.

“Nonna said it was the green vote, something about recycled corks and the country going to hell,” Trey said.

Not that she’d seemed to mind. ChiChi and Charles danced the entire night. And when they weren’t dancing, they were huddled in a corner, whispering and laughing as the whole town stared in shock. After sixty years, ChiChi and Charles had finally managed to let go of their long-standing feud and were moving on. Together, apparently.

Something that sounded good to Trey.

“Regan said that Deidra flipped out. The mayor had to carry her out before things got ugly.”

Trey heard the tub in the bathroom turn on and Abby raised a curious brow. Too bad all Trey could picture was a wet and naked Sara lathering herself up with soap. Then he pictured Sara wet and naked, with him lathering her up, and suddenly he needed to get Abby out of his place.

“If you wanted to talk about the Gala, you would have gone to Lexi, not come here. So tell me what’s up, then you can leave.”

Abby sighed and it was as though her entire body deflated. “I think we’re going to lose the property.”

Visions of a wet tango disappeared and Trey set the mugs on the counter. He walked over to sit on the couch, pulling Abby in for a side hug. She crumbled into him and rested her head on his shoulder.

On a completely selfish scale, Trey didn’t think that losing the property was such a bad thing. He’d meant what he’d said: DeLuca Wines was being pulled in too many directions, just like Trey was, and at some point they’d both snap. But his family wanted this deal to happen, so Trey wanted it to happen.