About That Kiss:A Heartbreaker Bay Novel(53)

"Good God, give it a rest," Mia griped. "And you're drooling. Get  yourself together, woman. Yesterday you wanted to kill him, remember?"

"Well, he is still a man," Alyssa said. "If I didn't want to kill him at least once a day, he's not doing his job right."

"Please God, tell me you're almost done with the baby hormonal mood swings," Mia said.

"Hey, I'm hardly having any baby hormone related mood swings anymore."

Mia snorted and looked at Lanie. "FYI, whenever we're in a situation  where I happen to be the voice of reason, it's probably an apocalypse  sort of thing and you should save yourself."

"Whatever," Alyssa said. "He's hot and he's mine, all mine."         

     



 

"Yes," Mia said. "We know. And he's been yours since the second grade and you get to sleep with him later so . . ."

Alyssa laughed. "I know. Isn't it great? All you need is love."

"I'm pretty sure we also need water, food, shelter, vodka and Netflix."

"Well excuse me for being happy." Alyssa looked at Lanie. "Are you married, Lanie?"

"Not anymore." She took a bite of the most amazing fettuccini alfredo  she'd ever had and decided that maybe calories on Monday's didn't count.

"Was he an asshole?" Mia asked, her eyes curious but warmly so.

"Actually, he's dead."

Alyssa gasped. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have asked-"

"No," Lanie said, kicking herself for spilling the beans like that.  "It's okay. It's been six months." Six months, one week and two days but  hey, who was counting? She bypassed her water and reached for the wine  after all. When in Rome . . .

"That's really not very long," Alyssa said.

"I'm really okay." There was a reason for the quick recovery. Several,  actually, not the least of which was the fact that after Kyle had passed  away, some things had come to light. Things such as the husband she  thought she'd known and loved had hidden an addiction from her.

A wife addiction.

So far two other women had come out of the woodworks claiming to also be  married to Kyle. Not that she intended to share that humiliation. Not  now or ever.

You're my moon and my stars, he'd always told her.

Just one lie in a string of many . . .

Cora came back around and Lanie nearly leapt up in relief. Work! Work was going to save her.

"I see you've met some of my big, nosy, interfering, boisterous, loving  family and survived to tell the tale," Cora said, slipping an arm around  Mia and gently squeezing.

"Yes, and I'm all ready to get to it," Lanie said.

"Oh, not yet." Cora gestured for her to stay seated. "No rush, there's  still fifteen minutes left of lunch." And then she once again made her  way around the tables, chatting with everyone she passed. "Girls," she  called out to the cupcake twins who were now chasing one another around  the other table, "slow down, please!"

At Lanie's table, everyone had gotten deeply involved in a discussion on  barrels. She was listening with half an ear to the differences in using  American oak versus French oak when a man in a deputy sheriff's uniform  came unnoticed through the double French doors. He was tall, built, and  fully armed. His eyes were covered by dark aviator sunglasses, leaving  his expression unreadable. And intimidating as hell.

He strode directly toward her.

"Scoot," he said to the table, and since no one else scooted, in fact no one else even looked over at him, Lanie scooted.

"Thanks." He sat, reaching past her to accept the plate that Mia  wordlessly handed to him without pausing from her conversation with  Alyssa. The plate was filled up to shockingly towering heights that  surely no one human could consume.

He caught Lanie staring and went brows up.

"That's a lot of food," she said inanely.

"Hungry." He grabbed a fork. "You're the new hire."

"Lanie," she said and watched in awe as he began to shovel in food like he hadn't eaten in a week.

"Mark," he said after swallowing a bite, something she appreciated  because Kyle used to talk with his mouth full and it had driven her to  want to kill him. Which, as it turned out, hadn't been necessary. A  heart-attack had done that for her.

Apparently cheating on a bunch of wives had been high stress. Go figure.

"You must be a very brave woman," Mark said.

And for a horrifying minute, she was afraid she'd spoken of Kyle out loud and she stared at him.

"Taking on this job, this family," he said. "They're insane, you know. Every last one of them."

Because he had a disarming smile and was speaking with absolutely no  malice, she knew he had to be kidding. But she still thought it rude  considering they'd served him food. "They can't be all that bad," she  said. "They're feeding you, which you seem to be enjoying."         

     



 

"Who wouldn't enjoy it? It's the best food in the land."

This was actually true. She watched him go at everything on his plate  like it was a food-eating contest and he was in danger of coming in  second place for the world championship. She shook her head in awe.  "You're going to get heartburn eating that fast."

"Better than not eating at all," he said, glancing at his watch. "I've  got ten minutes to be back on the road chasing the bad guys, and a lot  of long, hungry hours ahead of me."

"One of those days, huh?"

"One of those years," he said. "But at least I'm not stuck here."

It was her turn to go brows up. "Are you making fun of my job?"

"Making fun? No," he said. "Offering sympathy, yes. You clearly have no  idea what you've gotten yourself into. You could still make a break for  it, you know."

That she herself had been thinking the very same thing only five minutes  ago didn't help. Suddenly feeling defensive for this job she hadn't  even yet started, she looked around her. The winery itself was clearly  lovingly and beautifully taken care of. The yard in which they sat was  lush and colorful and welcoming. Sure, the sheer number of people  employed here was intimidating, as was the fact that they gathered every  day to eat lunch and socialize. But she'd get used to it.

Maybe.

"I love my job," she said.

Mark grinned. "You're on day one. And you haven't started yet or you'd  have finished your wine. Trust me, it's going to be a rough ride, Lanie  Jacobs."

Huh. So he definitely knew more about her than she knew about him. No  big deal since she wasn't all that interested in knowing more about him.  "Surely given what you do for a living, you realize there's nothing  ‘rough' about my job."

"I know I'd rather face down thugs and gangbangers daily than work in this lunacy bin."

She knew he was kidding, that he was in fact actually pretty funny, but  she wasn't charmed, refused to be charm. Fact was, she didn't like any  penis-carrying human being at the moment. "Right," she said, "because  clearly you're here against your will, being held hostage and force fed  all this amazing food. How awful for you."

"Yeah, life's a bitch." He eyeballed the piece of cheese bread on her plate she hadn't touched. It was the last one.

She gestured for him to take it and then watched in amazement as he put  that away too. "I have to ask," she said. "How in the world do you stay  so . . ." She gestured with a hand toward his clearly well-taken care of  body and struggled with a word to describe him. She supposed hot  worked-if one was into big, annoying, perfectly fit alphas-not that she  intended to say so since she was pretty sure he knew exactly how good he  looked.

"How do I stay so . . . what?" he asked.

"Fishing for compliments is unattractive.

He surprised her by laughing, clearly completely unconcerned with what  she thought of him. "My days tend to burn up a lot of calories," he  said.

"Uh huh."

He pushed his dark sunglasses to the top of his head and she was leveled  with dark eyes dancing with mischievousness. "Such cynicism in one so  young."

A plate of cupcakes was passed down the table and Lanie eyed them,  feeling her mouth water. She had only so much self-control and  apparently she was at her limit because she took one and then with  barely a pause, grabbed a second as well. Realizing the deputy sheriff  was watching her and looking amused while he was at it, she shrugged.  "Sometimes I reward myself before I accomplish something. It's called  pre-award motivation."

"Does it work?"

"Absolutely one hundred percent not," she admitted and took a bite of  one of the cupcakes, letting out a low moan before she could stop  herself. "Oh. My. God."

His eyes darkened to black. "You sound like that cupcake is giving you quite the experience."

She held up a finger for silence, possibly having her first ever in public orgasm.

He leaned in a little bit and since their thighs were already plastered  together, he didn't have to go far to speak directly into her ear. "Do  you make those same sexy sounds when you-"