Summer in Napa (A St. Helena Vineyard Novel) (27 page)

“Oh God,” she moaned, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in the curve of his neck. She held on tight as her whole body shook with release.

Breathing heavily, they sat there, on the pantry floor, clutching onto one another as she rode out her orgasm.

When was the last time he’d made a woman come and she’d still been fully clothed? He realized, with a grin, that this was his first. Alexis Moreau was his first.

Not that he hadn’t wished he’d at least pulled the straps of her dress down so he could see that red bra she was bragging about. In fact, being with Lexi like this, and knowing that he wasn’t going to get his and that he was
still
smiling like a fool, should have made him run. But honestly, right now, there was nowhere else his feet wanted to take him. And that was okay.

S
weet baby Jesus,
Lexi thought when she looked through the peephole. Marc was hot.

Still staring her fill, and reminding herself that drooling was not her best look, she smoothed down her dress—her Neiman dress that made her butt look a size smaller and her boobs two sizes bigger. It was a silky green and matched her eyes, had cost Jeffery a pretty penny, and she had been dying to wear it since she came back to town. It was her charge-it-to-my-husband’s-account, Alexis-Moreau-is-back, you’re-going-to-get-lucky-tonight dress. She’d bought it to impress the town, but tonight she only hoped to wow the bad boy next door.

The boy next door, who happened to be leaning against her porch rail, arms crossed, badass smile in place. Then there was the way his too-tempting pair of low-hung button-fly jeans hugged his thighs and how those dark eyes of his seemed to be staring right at her, which was impossible, since the door was closed.

“I know I’m pretty damn sexy, but could you speed up the gawking? Although flattering, it’s hot out here,” Marc said, smiling.

Lexi jumped back, her hand over her mouth. There was no way he could see her. First because the hole was tiny, and second, that would be way too embarrassing.

Cautious not to make a sound, she looked through the hole again. Maybe he was just making a lucky guess.

His smile widened, and he gave her a wink. “I can see you through the peephole, cream puff.”

Taking three steps back, she turned toward the stairs and yelled, “Coming,” hoping that it would sound like she was upstairs. “Just getting my—” She looked down. She was fully dressed, so she slipped off a heel. “Shoes. Just getting my shoes.”

Stomping on the lower stairs a few times, each louder than the next, she opened the door and made a big deal of hopping on one foot while she slid on her shoe—for the second time that night. Securely in place, she looked up and smiled. Problem was, Marc was smiling back. Correction, smirking. Marc was smirking back.

“What?” she challenged. There was no way that he could prove she had been
gawking
.

“I watched you put your shoes on twenty minutes ago.”

She didn’t know why, but his admission made her stomach flutter. Still, she wasn’t about to admit that
she
had been watching
him.

“I changed them.” Her voice went higher with each lie she uttered.

Marc dropped his gaze to her feet. “If you say so.”

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the paper bag in his hand and hoping he’d drop the subject.

“For you.” He held it up, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

Oh boy, Marc was nervous—and blushing. Not good. In fact, the knowledge made breathing difficult. It also made her palms sweat.

When she didn’t take it right away and his hands started fidgeting with the paper bag, the awkwardness level increased until Lexi considered shutting the door and calling off the date. Her being nervous was one thing. Him being nervous was a sign that they should put a stop to the whole situation, because it told her that tonight’s date meant something to him. Which made it okay for her to admit what she’d known all day: this date also meant something to her—a big something.

“Open it,” he forced out, handing her the bag.

Lexi took the bag and did as he asked, peeking inside. At the bottom sat a parcel wrapped in butcher paper. “What’s this?”

Marc shoved his hands in his pockets. “Um, boar loin.”

Lexi smiled. Not flowers. Not chocolates. But boar. Wild boar.

“I don’t know what to say.”

Actually, she did. But admitting that raw meat was the most thoughtful gift anyone had ever given her made her love life sound pathetic. Or maybe—she thought back to Mrs. DeLuca and her spaghetti-splattered apron—this was real romance.

“Mr. Craver mentioned that back in the day they served wild boar at the Showdown,” he said, shifting his weight. “But that over the years it had been modernized to pork chops.”

“Is that what you were asking him about at the farmers’ market?”

“I ordered it that day. If you like it, he can order as much as you need.”

Lexi had spent the better part of the afternoon trying to figure out what her rolled pork loin was missing. Boar would give it a gamy quality that would set her dish apart while still remaining true to the spirit of the event.

Clutching the boar to her chest, Lexi wrapped her free arm around Marc’s neck and pulled him down to meet her mouth. “Thank you,” she mumbled against his lips before delivering a series of soft, lingering kisses.

Breathless, Lexi pulled back, but Marc’s arms were around her waist, holding her to him, the boar trapped between their bodies.

“You’re welcome,” he whispered right before his mouth claimed hers. It was gentle, but the heat lingered long after he’d ended the kiss.

“You’d better put that in the fridge so we can go.” His palms slid down her back, over the curve of her bottom, where they lingered for a long get-to-know-you moment before making their way back up to gently cup her face. “One more minute alone and we’ll end up naked. Here. In the hallway.”

The drive over to his family’s house was silent and so full of sexual heat it was impossible to talk. So when Marc pulled up in the driveway and put the truck in park, his fingers gripping the wheel so tightly she was afraid he’d break either
the steering column or his hand, she wondered if maybe they should have had a quickie before coming over. Every cell in her body hummed to the point of frustration, and one look at the tent in his pants said he was just as bad.

“Marc—”

“I’m sorry,” he said, turning to face her.

“Don’t be. I mean, we couldn’t be late for dinner.”

“I wasn’t talking about that, but obviously it’s been on your mind,” he said, his lips curling up into a smile that had her girly parts giving a standing O. “We still have a few minutes.”

“We’re parked in front of your family’s house,” she whispered.

“No one’s out there. I promise.” He unbuckled his seat belt and started to reach for her.

“Says the man who knew the pantry door was fixed.” She batted his hands away.

He dodged her attempt and unbuckled her belt to pull her on his lap. He felt good. Too good. “You weren’t complaining last night.”

No, she hadn’t. Not even when Marc, after staying true to his word of not sliding home, had turned the knob and then nonchalantly pushed open the pantry door. It seemed when he dropped by to talk with Tanner, the contractor had been installing a new lock.

“Yeah, well, our grandmothers could be looking out the window.”

“Then we better steam ours up real fast.”

He dropped his lips to hers, but she shoved her hand in between their mouths. Undeterred, he moved to her neck instead.

“It’s not going to happen, Marc,” she said, tilting her head to the side so he could get behind her ear to that sweet spot he was so good at teasing. “So going on will only make it harder on both of us.”

Did she just moan or was that him?

“Tell me about it,” he mumbled against her neck. His hand, which was halfway up her dress, tightened, pulling her firmly against his erection.

“Tell me what you were apologizing for.”

With a sigh, Marc’s lips stopped. He gave her one final nip on the lobe and then pulled back. “I’m apologizing for my family.”

“Your family? What did they say?”

“Nothing yet. But they will. They’re Italian,” he said by way of explanation. Lexi struggled to hide her grin. She didn’t do a very good job, because he added, “Laugh now, but you’ll see. They’re loud and opinionated and can’t help but shove their noses in everyone else’s business.”

She gave his cheek a quick pat because he looked so serious. “I’ve met your family, Marc. Spent most of my high school years having sleepovers with Abby.”

“Yeah, well, this is different. You aren’t having a sleepover with Abby. You’re having one with me.”

If he hadn’t sounded so frustrated, she would have pointed out that they were just having dinner. The sleepover part, although definitely on the table, hadn’t been addressed. But then he ran a hand down his face and exhaled long and hard, and Lexi’s breath caught, and not in a good way.

Was he regretting his decision to bring her?

“Look, if you don’t want to do this, it’s not a big deal.” Although her heart was telling her the complete opposite. “I can just go home and—”

He kissed her silent. His lips were strong and insistent and telling her he wasn’t going to stop until she agreed to let him finish. So she wrapped her arms around his neck and let him get in the last word.

“I want you,” he breathed when he finally pulled back. “In my bed. My truck. The pantry. The kitchen.” He gave her another quick kiss. “Especially wearing that apron of yours. Hell, I even wanted you at the damn dog park. I want you, Lexi. And I want you here, tonight, by my side at my nonna’s table. Got it?”

She nodded.

“But I’ve never brought a girl home.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.” She let that sink in. He was trying to tell her something, something important, but Lexi was too afraid to listen. “My brothers are going to say shit, try to be funny and embarrass me. It’s what we do.”

Having brothers didn’t seem all that fun. She remembered back in high school how the DeLuca boys had gotten into it with each other, laughing it off in the end. But she had always wondered if Marc, who was usually the focus, really found their games fun.

“I am afraid that they will embarrass you in the process. And I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

And just like that her heart went mushy. For Marc freaking DeLuca.

Afraid she’d do something stupid, like cry or blurt out that she might be falling for him, Lexi gave him a quick peck on the lips and opened his door. She hopped out and offered him her hand. When he took it, they walked up to the front door.

Like she had told Marc, she had been to this house a thousand times over the years, but it never failed to steal her breath. Built in the late nineteenth century, the stone-faced Italian villa, with its ornate corbel-supported eaves and low-pitched roof, stood two stories tall with cornice towers identifying the entry of the house. Surrounded by massive oak trees and vines, it also sat in the middle of one of the most elaborate gardens in the Napa Valley—ChiChi’s award-winning flower garden, to be exact.

“It’s still not too late to go back to your place,” Marc said when they got to the front door. The way his hand fit into the curve of her waist and his lips brushed hers, sending a yummy heat rushing throughout her body, made her want to take him up on the offer.

Then the front door flew open. And the only heat rushing was straight to her face.

Abby looked frazzled and slightly harassed. She also looked from Lexi to Marc and back to Lexi. Her eyes were wide, and sweat beaded her upper lip. Abby tended to sweat when she got mad. So Lexi took a step back, away from Abby and out of Marc’s arms.

“You’re here.”

“Don’t look so horrified,” Lexi joked—kind of—and then, after studying the way Abby’s left hand plucked at the hem of her shirt, practically strangling the silk, she realized that Abby wasn’t mad, she was pissed.

Lexi smiled.

Abby didn’t smile back. She didn’t move, didn’t open the door wider, didn’t say, “Please come in.” She just stood there, blocking the entry—sweating, her hands fisted in her shirt.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Abby announced as though it was the most natural greeting in the world. Then, to make an already awkward moment even more awkward, she grabbed Lexi by the elbow and pulled.

Marc grabbed her other elbow. “And you need her to do that?”

Abby looked behind her, uncharacteristically worrying her lower lip.

“You okay?” Lexi asked, feeling a wee bit guilty. Abby had called her a total of seven times today, every one sent to voice mail. The week was up, Abby would demand answers, and Lexi still didn’t know how to explain her and Marc. It wasn’t fake, but it couldn’t be real, and she wasn’t sure exactly where that left them.

“I’d like to bring my girlfriend inside, so would you mind moving?”

That he didn’t even stumble on the word made Lexi smile.

“Yes. No. I mean, I need her.” Loud male laughter erupted from somewhere in the house. “Now.”

“Yeah, well, I need you to stop advertising your ex’s goods, or lack thereof, until
after
the Showdown. Just like you can talk to Lexi
after
we’ve come inside and said hi to Nonna.” Marc’s hand tightened on Lexi’s, telling her he wasn’t letting her go. It felt nice. It also made her realize that she wanted Marc to escort her inside. She wanted to walk into this house holding hands and greet their families as a couple.