Brave Enough(17)

I swing onto the vinyl seat, noting the picnic basket strapped to the back. For about ten seconds, I indulge in a little fantasy about a romantic tryst in the mountains, but all thought disappears from my mind when Tag reaches back to grab behind my knees and pull me snugly up against his hips and back. His hands linger on my skin a fraction too long, just long enough to send a thrill up my thighs to land where I’m pressed against him.

“Can’t have you falling off,” he says, his fingers trailing slowly down my bare calves before he leans forward to start the engine.

He twists the throttle a couple of times before we lurch forward suddenly. I squeal, nearly unseated. Instinctively, I wind my arms around Tag’s waist in a death grip. I feel his chuckle rumble through his back and into my chest more than I actually hear it. “That’s better.”

I hide my smile against the warm, smooth skin of his shoulder. I have to admit that I agree with him—this is better. Being so close to him, feeling so protected by him. It just feels right to be wrapped around Tag this way. I’m tall for a woman, but he’s so much bigger and taller, I fit him perfectly. Like we were made for each other. I can’t help wondering if he notices it, too.

I have to roll my eyes at my own sappy thoughts. In some ways, I feel like a teenage girl with a crush, a crush that drags the object of my infatuation into every waking thought and fantasy. I’ll have to draw the line if I start writing Mrs. Tag Barton on napkins and notebooks, though.

We dart off down a well-worn path that cuts through a field that is slated for expansion. Tag stops and explains his vision for the new crop he wants to plant, reminding me of the grapes we tasted earlier. “I never got around to letting you taste some of the wine. Somebody was tempting me with something even sweeter,” Tag says with a playfully pointed look over his shoulder in my direction.

“Don’t look at me! I was just there for the grapes.”

“You were?” he asks, feigning insult. Then, without warning, he twists further in his seat, grabs my chin between his thumb and forefinger and kisses me again. It’s short and hot and right next door to violent. It takes my breath away, and when he sinks his teeth into my bottom lip before letting me go, my entire lower half bursts into flame.

I gasp.

“Uhhh,” he groans, swiping my lip with his tongue as though he’s soothing away the sting. “I love the little noises you make. So damn sexy.”

“That’s what happens when you bite me,” I say absently, embarrassingly breathless and addled.

“Then I’ll have to bite you more often,” he declares, leaning closer to nip gently at the skin along my neck. Chills spread down my arms and the muscles between my legs squeeze deliciously. When he pulls away, he’s wearing a wry grin. “But I’ll have to hold off until later.”

“Why is that?” I can’t even muster the composure to pretend that I don’t want him to continue.

“Any more of that and I’m liable to embarrass myself.” His grin is self-deprecating. Tag is clearly the kind of man who’s used to a lot of attention and he doesn’t seem like the kind to lose control easily. The thought that I might push him to that point makes me feel oddly powerful.

“We can’t have that, now, can we?”

“Not when I’m trying to impress you.”

“Why are you trying to impress me?”

“I’m not used to women like you.”

“Women like me?”

“Yeah, women like you.” I want to ask exactly what kind of woman that is, but Tag gives the corner of my mouth a quick kiss and then turns around in his seat, ready to take me to the next stop.

“This is probably new since you were here last,” he says, pausing on the crest of a hill that looks down on twelve long, new rows of vines surrounding a half-finished cottage. I can already see the cozy comfort of it taking shape, though, right down to the wide porch that faces west, overlooking the steep mountainside.

“It’s beautiful!”

“Thank you. I can’t wait to finish it.”

“You’re building it?”

Tag turns a mildly outraged look on me. “Why is that so surprising?”

“I just didn’t . . . I didn’t realize you were a man of so many talents. That’s all.”

His expression melts into the sensually aware one I’m finding so unnerving. “Oh, you have no idea.”

The sun is slanting in on half his face, allowing me to see his eyes behind his glasses. I see them flicker down to my mouth and then back to my eyes. “That kiss back there? That was the Blanc du Bois kiss. Light with some bite. But these are the new merlot vines. They’re dark and deep in color, so any kissing here should reflect that, don’t you think?”