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That was the only reason Sullivan didn’t like the idea of Martinelli making a play for Lissa.
That and the idea Lissa might fall for the guy.
Two hours later, after the last guest had left and the catering staff had the bulk of the clean-up complete, Ken approached Lissa and Sullivan, where they stood beside a stack of oak barrels. “You both did an incredible job. The reception was a huge success.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Lissa turned to Sullivan and smiled. “I have to give our consultant a lot of credit for that. I didn’t realize he would roll up his sleeves and get to work the way he did.”
Normally, Sullivan left the physical labor to others. But working side-by-side with Lissa had been tough, and he’d needed to exert some pent-up sexual energy. Besides, he also wanted Virgin Mist to get the kickoff it deserved. “Lissa put in more than her share of sweat, too.”
“Well, I appreciate everything you did.” Ken took Donna by the hand. “Hon, are you ready to turn in for the night?”
“Yes, I am. It’s been a long day, and I’m exhausted.” Donna turned to Lissa. “Did you want to walk up to the house with us?”
“If you don’t mind,” Sullivan said, “I’d like to talk to her about a few things.”
“Certainly,” Ken said, leading his wife to the door. “Good night.”
When they were alone, Sullivan leaned against a barrel. “Martinelli had a good idea. You should be the model on the label.”
“I don’t know about that.” Lissa scrunched her pretty face. “I don’t want my image displayed on wine bottles.”
“I’m not talking about a photograph, just a goldembossed sketch. You’d be walking naked in the mist, your hair covering most of you.”
She shot him an incredulous glance. “If you think I’d model in the nude, you’re nuts.”
He wasn’t crazy at all. But she had a point. He didn’t like the idea of her posing naked. The very thought of her removing her clothes in front of someone else reminded him of the sensual striptease she’d done for him. And for some reason, he’d like to think of that as his own private show.
“The artist can put your face and hair on another woman’s body,” he said, unwilling to let her veto the idea.
“In that case, I’ll consider it.” She flashed him a playful smile. “I suppose we’ll need to thank Anthony for the idea.”
Sullivan didn’t want to thank the guy for anything. “He only mentioned your face. I had the idea of incorporating the mist. And the naked body.”
“I’ll have to thank him tomorrow evening.”
“Why tomorrow?”
“He asked me to go to dinner.”
Dinner? A knot formed in Sullivan’s gut. “And you accepted?”
She crossed her arms and lifted her brows. “Is that a problem?”
Uh-oh. Time to backpedal. He had no claim on Lissa. And he didn’t care who she dated. It was just that the guy bothered him. That’s all. “No. It’s not a problem. You can certainly date whoever you want.”
She eyed him carefully, as though she didn’t buy his explanation or his fancy footwork. “You’re not jealous, are you?”
“Of course not.” If she wanted to date anyone else but Martinelli, it wouldn’t have bothered him. At least he didn’t think it would.
She studied him for a moment, as though she could see something he couldn’t. “You really don’t like Anthony, do you?”
“No.” But not because the guy had done anything wrong. He was just too old.
And too interested in Lissa.
She edged close to him, her peachy, orchard-fresh scent accosting him and setting off a flurry of pheromones.
His reaction should have scared him, but he didn’t back away. And although he’d kept his thoughts to himself—for the most part—he slowly let down his guard.
What would she see in his eyes? Jealousy?
No way. Martinelli just reminded him of Kristin’s lover, the guy she’d chosen over Sullivan.
Lissa placed a hand on his lapel, close to his heart. Could she feel the acceleration of his pulse?
“Was once enough for you?” she asked.
He’d thought so. He’d hoped so. But the fact was, he’d found it difficult to sleep in the bed they’d shared. Her scent had remained in the bedding for several days. And the image of her striptease lingered in his mind.
“Was it enough for you?” Believe it or not, he actually hoped she’d say no and complicate his work at the vineyard, at least one more time.
She smiled with both innocence and seduction. “I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”
With him?
Or was she thinking about Martinelli?
The past-his-prime vintner would probably be happy to take a pretty young woman like Lissa to bed, to kiss and stroke her to her first climax. But Sullivan wanted to be the one who saw that first orgasmic pleasure in her eyes.
Otherwise, she’d be comparing their first time to her next sexual encounter. She’d be comparing him to someone else. And he’d be damned if he’d let her think that Anthony Martinelli was a better lover than him.
Pride took over, and in spite of his better judgment, Sullivan took her in his arms and lowered his mouth to hers, claiming her.
Just for tonight.
Chapter Eight
Lissa leaned into Sullivan’s embrace and lost herself in his kiss. She hungered for his taste, his breezy, highland scent, his touch.
As tongues mated and hands roamed, their breathing grew ragged and hot. The kiss intensified, playing upon her senses, fanning her desire.
Sullivan caressed her derriere with both hands, then pulled her flush against him. She felt his hard arousal, and nestled against it, letting him know she wanted him, too.
Lissa might have been inexperienced before, but not any longer. She knew what to expect, what she wanted. And what she needed to fill the ache of emptiness in her core.
Her pulse raced, and heat settled in her belly. She wanted to peel off his clothes—hers, too—and feel him skin to skin, breasts to chest.
Maybe they’d make love right here, in the tasting room, on the floor. And, interestingly enough, she found the idea of making СКАЧАТЬ