A Lot Like Love(43)
"Who's making the power play now?" She just barely had enough wits for one last sassy comment before she felt his hard, hot, shaft nudging her open. She closed her eyes and moaned, her fingers splaying over the marble ledge as he slowly entered her from behind.
He leaned forward and kissed the nape of her neck. "Me. And you love it."
Twenty-eight
THE NEXT DAY, Nick found himself on yet another winding, tree-lined road, heading to yet another winery. Kuleto Estate winery, Jordan had said-which, of course, meant nothing to him. So in response, he'd made his usual grumpy noises of protest, although some of that was for show more than anything else. After last night, he'd mellowed-just a touch-on the subject of wine. It wasn't the worst thing a man could drink, he supposed. No doubt, he still preferred a good, stiff bourbon, but he'd begun to think that wine held a certain appeal under the right circumstances.
His mind flashed back to the image of Jordan lying on the bathtub ledge, moaning his name as she arched against his mouth.
And now he had a hard-on.
He looked over at the cause of his problem, sitting next to him in the backseat of the limousine she'd hired to drive them around for the day. Quickly, he realized that looking at Jordan wasn't going to help anything. She was all put together again, polished and stylish in her navy dress and heels, and all he could think about was mussing her up. In fact, if it were up to him, this particular billionaire heiress would stay good and mussed all weekend.
Of course, whenever it came to Jordan, things were not entirely up to him. "How long will this tasting last?" he asked her.
"Hours. It includes lunch."
He grunted his displeasure. She smiled in amusement, and the gesture was inconveniently contagious. He'd planned to act cranky for at least five more minutes.
Nick noticed then that the road had narrowed as it wound up the mountain. When the drop-offs on the car's right turned steep, he saw Jordan clutch the edge of her seat.
He slid his hand over hers. "You okay?"
"I hate this part of the drive."
"Then why are we doing it?"
"You'll see when we get there."
Twenty minutes later, the car pulled to a stop at the top of the mountain. The driver parked the car, stepped out, and opened Jordan's door. "I'll grab the basket out of the trunk and bring it into the winery, Ms. Rhodes. I'll make sure they put it in the refrigerator."
Nick followed her out of the car. "What basket?" His FBI antenna went up-the limo had been waiting when he and Jordan arrived at the main lodge after being driven from their room in the golf cart, so he had no clue what might be inside the trunk.
"I had the resort put together a picnic lunch for us," she said. "After the wine tasting, I figured we could grab a spot to eat, well, anywhere." She gestured to the view all around them.
He took his first good look at the place. While he might not have been the type to ooh and aah easily over scenery, even he could appreciate the sight before him. The winery overlooked sweeping views of vineyards, emerald green rolling hills, the valley, and a sparkling blue lake below. Down a short path stood an idyllic Tuscan-style villa surrounded by flowers, gardens, and lush, shady trees.
"What do you think?" Jordan asked.
While taking in the view, it occurred to Nick that the downside of always being in charge and setting the rules of his relationships-and he used that term very loosely-was that no one ever surprised him with things like this. Actually, no woman had ever surprised him before, period. He normally didn't give them a chance to. Yet here he was, unexpectedly standing on a hilltop in the Napa Valley with a woman who pretty much knocked him off his feet every time they were together. He'd be pissed about that if she didn't somehow manage to do it while putting a smile on his face.
Very sneaky.
The incredible view made him think of something he'd wanted to say to Jordan ever since they'd arrived in Napa. He put his hands on her waist and pulled her close, holding her gaze. "I think this whole weekend is amazing. But you know that I don't need any of these things, right? I'm here because of you-not for fancy resorts, or fireside dinners, or picnic lunches on a California hilltop."
She smiled and touched his face. "I know. That's what makes it even better."
A voice called out from behind them. "Jordan Rhodes."
Nick turned and saw a man with sandy brown hair walking over to them.
"Mike. So good to see you again," Jordan said.
"Look at you-gorgeous, as usual," he said. "I saw your name on today's appointment list. With a plus one, huh? About time." He shook Nick's hand. "You must be the plus one."
Nick returned the handshake. "Nick Stanton." The "plus one" was getting tired of using that name.
Mike gestured toward the villa. "Come on in-we're a little crowded this afternoon, but I think we can make some room at the bar."
They followed him inside the winery and walked into a noisy, cozy room. Guests drank wine at a long banquet table, at cocktail tables scattered along the walls, and at the large bar in the corner. A friendly black Labrador mingled among the guests, quite content to be fed Brie cheese and crackers under the tables.
Nick relaxed as he and Jordan settled into the last two open chairs at the bar. This kind of wine tasting was much more his style.
Mike slid two empty glasses in front of them. "Where do you guys want to start?"
Nick thought about this. "Do you have anything in a pink?"
Mike eagerly grabbed a bottle from the back bar. "Actually, we have a gorgeous Rosato. Predominantly made from cabernet and Sangiovese grapes, fermented in stainless steel, then briefly in French oak, it's a lush, aromatic blend of wild strawberries and blood oranges, full in the mouth without being too heavy. Perfect for a sunny, spring day like this."
"Sounds delicious," Nick said. "I'll take everything but that one."
LATER THAT NIGHT, Nick lay on his side, listening to Jordan's steady breaths as she slept next to him. After spending a large part of the afternoon at Kuleto winery, and then another hour at a smaller winery she'd wanted to check out for her summer wine club selections, they'd stumbled back to the bungalow and finally explored the outdoor shower. For dinner, they'd made their way to the resort's restaurant, a Pacific Northwestern-style lodge that sat on a lake nestled against tall pine trees and mountains. They'd scored a table on the deck and had talked as the sun set-about his family, her family, about lots of things.
There was one topic they hadn't broached, however. The subject of them.
In the morning, they would leave Napa and return to Chicago, and then . . . Nick wasn't sure what would happen. For a guy who typically kept his relationships with women easy and breezy, this was an odd position to be in. He usually didn't think about the next step because, usually, there was none. But Jordan Rhodes had walked into his life and now here he was-staring at her in the dark, watching her sleep. That was the type of thing a sentimental, introspective man did. Not him.
He, on the other hand, was a rational, logical kind of guy, and there were a few cold, hard facts staring him in the face. First, he'd known Jordan for three weeks. Three weeks. And they'd officially been together for only the last forty-eight hours of that. Second, taking the next step with her would mean one of two things: either they would spend long periods of time apart while he was on an undercover assignment, or he needed to consider a major change in his career.
The fact that he was even considering such a thing seemed crazy. One simply did not make that kind of decision after dating a woman for forty-eight hours.
But.
The alternative meant saying good-bye to Jordan as soon as the Eckhart investigation was over. And that just felt . . . wrong. He liked seeing her lying in bed next to him, and wanted to see her there more often. A lot more often.
In other words, he wanted it all-and that simply couldn't happen. So he had a tough decision to make.
There was another problem complicating this decision: he had no clue what Jordan was thinking. Sure, he knew she liked him, but not once had she talked about what would happen back in Chicago. Perhaps she didn't want to address the issue yet, or perhaps she simply didn't have any answers herself. Maybe she was just as confused as he was.
He'd always been a straight shooter with women. But this conversation, with this particular woman, unnerved him. Because-if he was being honest with himself-he knew that there was a part of him, a good part of him, that wanted her to ask the questions he'd always tried to avoid, wanted to hear her say the things he'd never given another woman a chance to say. Like that this weekend meant something more than just a weekend.
Jordan stirred and stretched out in her sleep. She rolled even closer, attempting to edge him out to a measly one-third of the king-sized bed. He couldn't help but smile while firmly holding his ground-even in her sleep she tried to take control.
She was smart and beautiful and successful, and probably the most remarkable woman he'd ever met. With all she had going for her, it was hard to see her ever lacking for-or needing-anything. And although he'd never want to change her strength and independence, some Cro-Magnon, club-swinging, plain-old greedy bastard deep inside nevertheless wanted to know that she needed him.