Grayson's Vow(82)

What in the actual hell had happened to me?

I'd met Kira Dallaire, that's what had happened to me.

I spotted her out in the south field, looking as if she was . . . collecting apricots off the ground. Was she holding them in the bottom of her shirt? For a second, I just stood and watched her as she hopped among the fruit, bending and collecting, bringing a piece of fruit to her nose now and again. What was the little witch up to anyway? Something pulled tight inside me—why did my aggravating wife have to fascinate me even as my guts were churning inside my body? I approached her slowly and by the time I got to the edge of where hundreds of overly ripe apricots littered the ground, she had ten or fifteen pieces of fruit weighing down her blousy shirt.

"Kira," I said as calmly as I could, "what are you doing?"

"Collecting fruit for Charlotte's jam—the jam you love so much, the jam that makes you happy. I've been meaning to do it all week, but what with organizing your office and planning a party so it might be easier for you to rejoin Napa society, entertaining your family, and trying to figure out how to sideswipe certain questions from Shane and Vanessa—which, come to think of it, I'd like to thank you for just blurting out the truth because that's one stressor off my plate. I can't tell you how relieved I am not to have to lie anymore—"

"Kira," I said, moving closer. "I'm sorry. That was poorly done on my part."

"Plus," she went on as if she hadn't heard me, "it's such a waste of food. There are people who don't have enough to eat—right here in Napa even. And here's all this fruit just littering the ground. It's unconscionable, really."

"Kira," I repeated, moving closer still.

She whirled toward me, her hair hanging long and wavy down her back, wisps and curls framing her face. Her eyes were bright green and stormy, putting me in mind of a tropical tempest about to hit ground. Her cheeks were flushed, and I could see she was so filled with anger—and some emotion I had no idea how to name—she was having trouble catching her breath. The barest glimpse of her flat stomach was visible where her shirt had been drawn up in a makeshift basket, heavy with fruit. My breath caught as I took her in. She was the most beautifully wild thing I had ever seen and the primal part of me suddenly had the urge to tame her immediately, right this very second.

I knew I should be groveling and—God, I knew she deserved as much—but after a week of keeping Kira at arm's length, and seeing her now standing in front of me, all fire and life, I lost control in the way only she could cause me to do.

I strode toward her as her eyes widened, and she dropped the fruit collected in her shirt, soft apricots making wet plopping sounds as they splattered on the ground at her feet. She belonged to me. The jealousy I'd felt when I'd seen her in Shane's arms flared again as I pulled her to my body. Looking at her now, and realizing how desperately I wanted her—how these past days had been like living without light—I felt jealous and vulnerable all over again. I desperately wanted her to soothe the wild agony raging inside, to reassure the wounded part of my heart that she thought there was something worthy about me, that she wanted me, too. But I had no idea how to put those feelings into words, didn't know how to ask, especially when I had so much to apologize for. And so I claimed her the only way I knew how. I grabbed her roughly and pressed my lips to hers.

I had only planned to kiss her once and then let her go, but the taste of her sent a flame licking from low in my belly. I grasped for her, unable to tear my mouth from hers. She fought me for a few brief moments, both of our arms scrabbling around each other as I sought to pull her close, and she fought to pull away. But then she let out a small sob and wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing me back with passionate fervor. I licked at her tongue, the taste of her soothing the ache inside, bringing me simultaneously a loss of control, and the first small taste of peace I'd had for what felt like so very long. Maybe for a lifetime.

Before I'd had time to sink into the kiss, Kira pushed at my chest, stumbling back several steps, her lips bruised, her eyes filled with renewed hurt. "Kira," I said, noting the pleading tone in my own voice, "come here."

Her chin went up, and she took several more steps backward. "No."

I hesitated. What did she want? "Meet in the middle." I nodded my head toward a spot on the grass between where we stood facing each other.

"No," she spit out mutinously.

A swell of anger came over me. I wasn't going to keep my hands off her. My gut churned with desire, and my blood buzzed with the need to possess her. I'd never wanted another woman this much. Damn the little witch to hell. What did she want from me? I went to grab for her again, but she suddenly scooped something off the ground and flung it, the loud splat of a mushy apricot exploding on my forehead to drip down my face. I was momentarily stunned. I reached my hand up and took a finger full of apricot off my forehead and brought my finger down to look at it, disbelievingly. "You defiant, little she-devil," I said, my eyes meeting hers. With one quick movement, I scooped up a soft apricot and hurled it at her. She squeaked as it made contact with the small bit of skin showing at the V-neck of her blouse, breaking apart in a splatter of juice and pulp and sliding down her shirt. Her mouth dropped open and she looked at me as if in shock that I had done as she'd done.