Intimate (20 page)

Yet all that time, she'd been wearing a ring through the hood of her clit. A gold chain linking to her navel, to her breasts.

She'd flirted with the owner, complemented him on the decor in the restaurant, and Jake had never suspected.

She'd been wearing that perfect ruby atop her clit, and he hadn't had a clue. Yeah, he'd thought she might be wearing the ones in her nipples, but he figured she would have left the navel ring and chains off because her tight jeans would make them rub.

He'd never dreamed she'd wear all the chains, all the jewelry, but knowing that now made it hard to catch his breath. He was going to have to tell Marc that somehow they needed to emphasize the jewelry's effect on the male libido as part of their ad campaign.

And why the fuck was he thinking about work when he was here, in a bedroom, with an almost naked, gloriously beautiful woman ready to crawl into bed beside him? Under him. On top of him.

Hell, did it really matter?

Kaz stopped beside the bed and hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her thong. “Well? Did I give you enough time to recover?”

Laughing, he grabbed her hand, sat up, and helped her tug the thong down her legs. “I think so, but you might have to check to make sure.”

“Oh … I love the checking part.” She pushed him back on the bed and straddled his hips. His dick arched up and over his belly, and even though she'd just given him about the greatest orgasm he'd ever experienced, he was hard and wanting again.

Wanting Kaz. Damn. He rubbed his hands over her thighs and considered begging, but then she rose up on her knees, scooted forward, and wrapped her fingers around his erection.

His whole body jerked when she touched him. Damn, he was so sensitive he felt like he might fire off at her slightest touch.

“Got those condoms handy?”

“Oh, shit.” He laughed. “No. They're in my camera case.”

“Lost in the moment?” She crawled off his legs and walked across the room.

He stared at her perfectly rounded butt, her tiny waist, the long, sleek line of her thighs, the firm muscles in her calves. He sighed while she unzipped the case and found the box of condoms.

“Extra-large? In the economy-size pack?”

Her laughter pulled him out of the moment. “Hey, the one we used yesterday was uncomfortably tight. And a man can hope, right?”

Raising an eyebrow, she held up the box and then very carefully opened the package and removed one foil-wrapped condom. “He can. I guess.”

Walking back across the room with an exaggerated sway of her hips, she once again straddled his legs. Only this time, she carefully slipped a condom over his erection.

When she settled the roll at the end over the base of his shaft, he groaned. When she leaned over and kissed the latex-covered tip, he bit back a whimper. And when she rose up on her knees and then slowly lowered herself down over his full length, Jake wasn't sure whether he wanted to weep or cheer.

 

CHAPTER 12

Wisps of fog drifted over the vineyard as they pulled in beside the barn just before sunrise. Jake took a careful look along the road and vineyard, watching for an older, black BMW. He'd awakened to another text this morning. It must have come late last night, when he and Kaz had been otherwise occupied.

Hey, RJ? Where the fuck did you go? We were having so much fun today and then poof … you're gone. But I'll find you. You can't hide. Not anymore.

He was actually glad he'd not seen it until he got up this morning. Glad nothing had ruined what had been an absolutely spectacular night. It was going to be so damned hard to walk away from this woman.

But with crap like that going on, what choice did he have? At least for now, anyway, it appeared the bastard had lost them.

Kaz grabbed the thermos of coffee and bag of muffins the B and B had provided, while Jake unlocked the barn and carried his camera gear inside.

He glanced up as Kaz walked through the door. “Now aren't you glad I told you to wear warmer clothes?”

“I don't get it. It was sunny just over that little hill.” She glanced at the gray surrounding them, at the ghostly images of vines through fog.

“That's what creates the different microclimates this valley's known for. Cool, foggy mornings and warm, sunny days. Warm hillsides on the east, cooler on the west. The grapes love it.”

“Half-naked models prefer the sunbeams. Just sayin'…” She grabbed a couple of paper plates and some napkins out of the cupboard over the sink and set them on the counter beside the bag of muffins.

“Looks good.” Jake took a stool beside her and looked through the selection. “I'm hungry.”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Probably from all that exercise you got last night.”

He turned and gave her a slow, lazy, incredibly sexy smile. “You, my dear, are a slave driver. And no, I am most definitely not complaining.”

She felt the blush rising from her chest to her collarbones. “You'd better not be.” Yawning, she covered her mouth. “Though I hope you're really good at tweaking the photos. I'm sure I have bags under my eyes.”

“Your eyes are perfect. Just like the rest of you.”

“You're making me blush.” She dipped her head as heat suffused her face.

“You were already blushing. I can only assume you were thinking of last night.”

She gave him a long, assessing glance. “How come it doesn't make you blush? Are you so jaded that—”

He shook his head. “Not at all. It's just that I'm too busy trying to figure out how to get you to do all that again tonight to actually waste energy on blushing.” Taking a big bite of his blueberry muffin, he winked.

Kaz glanced away, sipping her coffee. It would be so damned easy to fall in love with this man. Too easy, and that alone was warning enough to back off, at least emotionally. Men who seemed too good to be true, generally were.

*   *   *

Taking a sip of her water, Kaz stretched and then stared at the remnants of lunch. It had been a really busy morning, but the time had flown. The skirt and top Jake had gotten for her yesterday worked beautifully, making it even more fun to find innovative poses. It was important to show off the jewelry—and her tattoo, when possible—without getting shots too risqué for most magazines.

She'd been so caught up in the poses, she hadn't realized she was even hungry until Jake mentioned it was already after noon.

Now he stood, shoved the stool back under the counter, and began gathering up the disposable trays and plates. There were still cheeses and sliced meats left, but they'd eaten most of it. Jake hadn't said whether they'd need to come back tomorrow morning.

He'd certainly taken a lot of pictures. She watched his hands as he stacked the plates and stuffed everything into a plastic garbage bag. Those hands had done amazing things to her body last night.

Things that had her nipples tightening around their rings, sending a charge of arousal straight to her sex. Those gorgeous gold chains linking nipples to navel to clit were like superconductors for sexual sensations.

Her abdominal muscles—and lower—clenched in reaction.

Jake glanced her way, and her first thought was that she'd said something aloud, which had the beginning heat of a blush spreading across her chest and up her throat.

“I'm going to toss the rest of this stuff,” he said. “It's been here since Tuesday when Marc had the place stocked for us.”

“Probably a good idea.” Relieved he'd had no idea where her mind had been headed, Kaz stood, wiped off the counter, and then leaned against the granite. “What now?”

Jake pulled a thin tablet out of his camera bag. “I want to take a look at the shots we got this morning. If they're good, we won't need to come back here tomorrow. I thought we might get some at the B and B.” He glanced her way and raised an eyebrow. “I found our room to be quite inspirational.”

She snorted.

“Are you casting aspersions on my lovemaking?”

Laughing, Kaz held up her right hand. “Never. I swear.”

“Good.”

At least he was smiling when he turned away and loaded photos from his camera onto the computer. Kaz stood beside him, quietly watching while he flipped through picture after picture. They all looked so similar to her, but she knew that Jake saw things in them she was totally unaware of.

“Damn.” He went back to a photo and enlarged it. “That blanket is just too busy. Between the pattern on your dress and all the shadows from the leaves, it's too much. Do you mind reshooting a few of these? I think with the sun overhead and fewer shadows…”

His voice drifted off, and she knew he was thinking light settings and lenses and composition. “Not a bit,” she said, reaching beneath the counter and grabbing her bag. “Let me fix my hair and lip gloss. Be right back.”

Once in the small bathroom, she splashed water on her face and brushed her teeth. Then she touched up the light makeup she'd worn for today's shoot, added lip gloss, and fluffed her hair.

It took about five minutes. When Kaz got back to the main room, Jake was going through a cupboard filled with towels and what looked like sheets.

“Feel like sprawling in the vineyard on a tablecloth?”

“Beats weeds and bugs. What color?”

“I'm thinking the dark red. You're still wearing the tiger eye set, right?” He glanced her way when she nodded, and stared at her ears, at the tiny stud in her nose.

“Perfect. Those stones with the bronze leaves and the black background on your dress work really well. Can you carry this?” He handed the dark red table cloth to her. At the last minute, he reached in and grabbed a black one, too.

“Here.” He pulled out a bottle of deep red wine with the Intimate label, along with two glasses, then picked up a pretty wooden tray and a small plate. “Any of that cheese left?”

“You tossed it.”

“Damn.” He rummaged through the trash and found some intact slices of yellow cheddar cheese, a triangle of Brie they'd hardly touched. A few crackers.

“I'm not
that
hungry.” She stared at the foods he'd retrieved.

“Me, either, but they'll look okay for the shot. I'm thinking of you lying on the tablecloth between the vines, the bottle of red wine open, two glasses filled, looking at the camera as if it's your lover joining you for an afternoon tête-à-tête.”

She tilted her head and gave him her best “come hither” smile. “And will my lover be joining me for a tête-à-tête?”

“He might. If he gets the shots he needs.”

*   *   *

The sun was high in the sky, the valley surprisingly quiet. They found a spot at the edge of the vineyard with the riparian area in the background. These were older vines, all gnarled and twisted with shoots already spilling out in all directions, unlike the younger vineyards with their careful trellising and neat rows.

“This section belongs to the winemaker and the vineyard manager, but we have permission to use the property while they're away for the week. Marc told me that some of these vines are over a hundred years old.”

“They're beautiful.”

“So's the wine. That bottle you've got? It was made mostly from grapes off of these old vines. Look at the label—it's called Field Blend Red for a reason. A lot of the families who settled here came from Italy, and they loved their wine. During prohibition, the farmers could make wine for themselves and their families. They'd have a field of red wine grapes and a field of white, all different varieties, but same colors.”

He held up the bottle filled with a dark plum shade of wine. “They'd blend all the white ones for their white wine, and all the red for the red wine. These are mostly Zinfandel, but there's some Syrah, a few Carignane, Sangiovese, and Barbera, even some Cabernet Sauvignon. When this field is harvested, the grapes are all dumped into the stemmer-crusher together. You put them together, in the percentages that come out of the field, they make magic. Wait until you taste the wine.”

His face grew animated when he described the wine and the process to make it. She loved how he talked with his hands in motion, his eyes sparkling. “You love this, don't you?” she said. “You said you were one of the owners, right? You must have worked a harvest before, but you sound like you really love the whole process of wine making.”

He stared out over the vineyard for a long moment. “I do. There's something timeless about making wine. Even with all the fancy equipment and the science that goes into creating good wine, growing good grapes, the best wines are still made with grapes picked by hand, and the best winemakers are right in the middle of the vineyards and the harvest, taking part in the whole process.”

He glanced her way. “And yes, I do own a very small part of the larger vineyard.” He laughed. “About three vines' worth, though I'm not part of Marc's jewelry line. That's all his.”

She held up the bottle she'd been carrying. “Did you help make this one?”

He glanced at the date of the vintage. “Not this one. The ones I worked on are still aging. Believe me, it's hard work. There's nothing glamorous about the crush, what they call the harvest. You're up there at the crusher fighting off the yellow jackets. Those damned bees love the sweet juice. You end up covered with it, and you're trying to keep up with the pickers, who are really fast, and dodge the bees, who are even faster.” Laughing, he said, “I've never worked so hard in my life.”

“Sounds like good work, though. You have something really special to show for it.” She paused beside a twisted vine surrounded in tiny white daisies. “Is this spot okay?”

He nodded. “Looks good to me.”

He helped her spread the tablecloth out between the vines. “Sometime, I'd love to experience that,” she said. “I imagine it would make me appreciate my glasses of wine a lot more.”