One night to get it out of our systems.
His words sliced through her like a knife, opening wounds she’d thought long ago healed. They gaped raw under the unrelenting moonlight, pulsed with an insidious throb that brought back everything. The way Jordan had bundled her off like a used piece of furniture the night his wife had arrived home, so clearly dispensable, as though she’d been barely a blip on his stream of consciousness. As though she’d never mattered to him.
She had thought he’d loved her. Had finally allowed herself to believe that one man, one man in her life would not hurt her. That finally someone had seen through the facade that was Alex and still wanted her, warts and all. That somehow her dream of escaping the past could be a reality.
She dipped her foot into the water and flicked it up, sending a ripple of diamonds through the air. Her affair with Jordan had taught her that she was no one’s long-term prospect. That she would always be the Iowa trash everyone over the age of eighteen in Mission Hill had thought she was.
She sent another river of shimmering beaded droplets through the air. Gabe was right. They were a disaster waiting to happen. But somehow she’d hoped he would be the one to think more of her. That this endless tension between them was something bigger than lust. Something neither of them dared address for fear of facing it head-on. But apparently she was once again allowing herself to believe things that were just not true.
She blinked, desperately seeking to restore some sense to her head. If she was going to consider Gabe’s proposal, she needed to be real with herself about what it was. Each of them slaking their mutual hotness for each other. Nothing more, nothing less. She had not suddenly morphed into Alex the respectable, even if she had the job and the clothes to fake it with. She was still just the girl for now.
The moon inched higher in the sky. She pulled her feet out of the bathtub-warm water and let them dry on the concrete. Was one night with Gabe even something she could consider? Would it finally get this particular monkey off her back and get her mind back on business where it belonged? Or would it make her other bad decisions look like child’s play?
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE ONLY THING that kept Alex going for the next week was knowing the end was almost in sight. For the Napa event, anyway. With a week’s rest in between that and the New York launch and most of the kinks worked out in California, she would have a chance to breathe and, more importantly, restore her equilibrium.
It was sadly lacking right now. She’d chosen to ignore Gabe’s proposal in favor of ensuring the VIP/media tour schedule was set, she had enough staff to cover everything and attendee numbers were finalized.
But she couldn’t avoid it forever. She needed to get this event out of the way—knock Gabe’s socks off—then she could wrap her head around what she was going to do. Avoiding him hadn’t worked for more than four years now. So aside from the fact that he was her client and the family dynamic wasn’t likely to get any smoother if they slept together, she was contemplating it.
Anything to get that intense, rabid curiosity about how he’d be out of her head. Would he be that good?
Thus, anything that occupied her conflicted brain that week was where she wanted to be. Which meant superhuman efficiency on her part. It seemed like a minor miracle when she and her team went through their final checklist at nine o’clock the night before the party and everything was done. She sent Emily and Darren back to the B&B, stretched her sore body with a big yawn and thought of only one thing: the hot tub. It might be her favorite feature of the De Campo estate. Perched on the hill looking out onto the vineyard, it was glorious at night. And she was going there now before she collapsed into bed.
She poured herself a glass of chilled white wine in the kitchen, put on her bikini and a cover-up, and shoved a cracker and cheese in her mouth. The light was on in Gabe’s study as she whipped by. She gave the door an uncertain look. Better to leave him to it, she decided. He’d been grumpy Smurf lately trying to perfect his mystery wine, which seemed to be something of a big deal, and she’d gathered it wasn’t going very well.
Heading to the west wing, she pushed open the French doors, padded her way around the pool and stepped up to the level where the hot tub sat with that incomparable view. She jerked to a halt. It was occupied. By six feet, three inches of magnificent, grumpy Smurf.
Oh. Her heart started to work again, this time pumping at a slightly higher rate than usual. Gabe’s eyes were half-closed, his dark hair slicked back from his face. The lines of fatigue that had been carved around his mouth and eyes for the past couple of weeks were relaxed, less defined now. His bronzed, muscular body, clad in a pair of navy trunks, was mouthwatering.
Damn, but he was hot. An insanely delicious piece of male anatomy it would be a revelation for any woman to get her hands on.
Hands. Mouth. Tongue...
He could be yours.
She turned around. Later was better.
“Lex.”
Crap. She swiveled back. “I thought you were asleep.”
“You’d leave a sleeping man in a hot tub?”
Humor was definitely more appealing than grumpy Smurf. She stepped back up on the ledge.
He slid those sensational green eyes over her, eating her up. A wave of heat engulfed her that wasn’t in any way connected with the steam coming off the tub.
He brought his gaze back up to her face. “All set for the event?”
“Amazingly so, yes. Usually I’m crawling into bed at 2:00 a.m. the night before.”
“You seem to have been...supercharged this past week.”
Uh-oh. Irresistible Gabe was back.
He tilted a brow up. “You getting in?”
“I don’t want to disturb you.”
“That’s just baseline with you, Lex. Get in. You look exhausted.”
She thought about how revealing her bikini was. Wished she had something more modest on, but it didn’t exist in her wardrobe.
His mouth quirked. “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you in a bathing suit.”
Yes, but it was the first time he would do so after propositioning her. And with the location being a steaming hot tub. Still... She looked longingly at the bubbling water. She had knots in her shoulders the size of kiwis. It was an eight-person tub. Surely that was big enough to house their attraction?
Gabe flicked water at her. “Non essere un gatto scaredy.”
“I can guess what that means,” she murmured. Run, said a little voice inside of her. But Alex was all about the challenge, unfortunately. He gave no quarter, keeping his gaze on her while she stepped out of her flip-flops and slid the dress over her head. Lowered herself into the water as quickly as humanly possible.
“Oh.” She sank down slowly into the almost unbearably hot water. “You’ve turned the temperature up.”
“I like it molto, molto caldo.”
Right. She could have figured that one out, too.
“You speak more Italian when you’re tired.” She wondered if that happened in bed as well. She’d bet it did, and she’d bet it was hot. “So,” she murmured desperately. “How’s your mystery wine coming?”
His face darkened. “Not perfect yet.”
“It will come. You’re a brilliant winemaker, Gabe. Everyone says so.”
“It needs to come soon.”
She frowned. “Why the rush? I thought The Devil’s Peak was your focus.”
“I may need to move that wine up.”
He didn’t look too happy about that. Thus the grumpiness.
“Maybe you need some inspiration.”
His gaze rested on her face, hard and challenging. “Got any suggestions?”
She shifted uncomfortably. “I was thinking about your chemistry explanation. What do you think is missing?”
“If I knew that, I’d be doing it.”
“Oh.” She pointed a finger at him. “You really are a grumpy Smurf.”
He lifted an elegant brow. “A what?”
“American TV.” She sank back into the jets and stifled a moan as they attacked her shoulders. “I heard you tell Pedro this one is a big risk. Why?”
“It’s a new varietal for California. The market isn’t mature yet.”
“And you’re going to have to fight Antonio on this one, too,” she guessed.
His face tightened. “Antonio, Riccardo, the board. All of them.”
“Will Riccardo support you?”
“I’m hoping so.”
“What was it like being passed over for him?” She had always been so intensely curious about that. Gabe was the brilliant winemaker—but Riccardo had gotten the top job after gallivanting around the world driving race cars.
A shuttered look crossed his face. “I’ve always loved the wine-making part of the business.”
“That’s not exclusionary from being CEO. Some would have said you were the natural fit.”
“My brother is a fine CEO,” he said harshly. “He’s done an incredible job expanding De Campo into the restaurant business and I support him fully.”
“But you must have wanted it to be you?”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“But you did...”
“Lex.”
She sighed. “I’m a branding expert. I know you need help with the name. Give me some details.”