Satisfaction Page 11

  Ethan had popped in a Nirvana CD and the music flowed beneath Georgie’s consciousness like a riptide of raw emotion. The rhythm of her heart kept time to the visceral beat of Kurt Cobain begging to apologize.

  How on earth had she let Ethan talk her into this? Well, she hadn’t. He’d bullied her with scare tactics, crime statistics, a laundry list of the things somebody out to get her could do to her if she wasn’t protected. All the while, he’d stood too close, enveloping her with the scent of spicy soap and healthy man, and she’d found her will to resist him dissolve.

  Besides, with Paul on the loose and acting so strangely, maybe a little protection wouldn’t hurt.

  She knew how he’d gotten into her dressing room, of course. His father owned KALM, where all doors were open to the Corcorans. But she still had no idea how he’d gained entry to her house. Though she didn’t think Paul knew where she kept her spare key hidden, she checked and found it still in its hiding place. Even so, he might have used it, then put it back. Just in case, she’d called a locksmith and had the front door lock changed.

  All the uncertainty had weakened her defenses, and she’d capitulated to Ethan’s demand to drive her to Napa for the weekend. Now that they were on the road, the reality of her idiocy struck home; the last thing she needed was to spend two days, and a night, alone with a man she found so utterly attractive—and who had made no secret of the fact he wanted her.

  As Nirvana speculated about a girl, Georgie’s thoughts turned inward.

  She was sure of herself, knew what she wanted, didn’t want; there were things she needed to hide, keep hidden, defend. Yet there she was, flying along a country highway with a man capable of discovering every secret she’d ever harbored. In no uncertain terms, she was courting disaster.

  But God, he was so appealing. Underneath that stoic veneer, behind those solemn hazel eyes, he had a sense of humor. He was caring, and could be surprisingly charming.

  And when he’d kissed her, and she’d felt his heart beating against her body, she’d felt a sense of connection with him she’d been trying ever since to deny, but simply couldn’t. Everything she thought she knew about him since the day they met had begun to shift.

  She liked him, wanted to be with him, and yearned to put her trust in him.

  It had been so long since she’d been in love…

  Her heart jolted like she’d just had a triple shot of pure Colombian, straight up, no foamed milk, no nothing.

  Love? No, she wasn’t falling in love with Ethan. Stupendous, over-the-top uber-attraction. Lust, even. Want, need…but not love. You had to know somebody a whole long while before you could let your defenses down enough to allow love to replace doubt and fear. She might sleep with him…maybe. She was human, after all, and she hadn’t had sex in, God, how long had it been? But give him her heart? Her trust? No. If it came to that, she would draw the line at her body and keep her heart and her trust locked away, as they had been most of her life.

  But he was so…and together they were so…and being with him made her feel so…

  Dammit. A tangle, that’s what this was. An emotional, sexual, moral tangle, and she didn’t know how to extricate herself.

  She turned her attention to the passing scenery. The day was lovely, the sky a miracle, the air fresh and warm and sweet. She and Ethan were young and single and in each other’s company. Anyone seeing them would think they were a couple, and maybe they were—for today. But not for always.

  Because when you let yourself love somebody, when you finally let someone in, you had to tell him things, trust him with certain secrets, certain truths.

  Georgie suppressed a frustrated groan. She needed to decide what she wanted, and before too much longer. Did she dare trust him with her body, her secrets, her truths? Something deep inside her core promised her she could. Still, she’d trusted before, and look what had happened. If she could just switch off her brain, life would be so much easier!

  “Better now?” he asked, peering at her over the top of his aviators.

  “What?”

  “My driving. I slowed down, even though I’d always heard that getting there fast is half the fun.”

  “Then you’ve been sadly misinformed.”

  He laughed, and her breath snagged in her throat. Since she’d met Ethan, he’d barely allowed a smile to curve that sensuous mouth. Now he was laughing, and it was deep and melodic, masculine. The sound of it reached down inside her, stroking her soul like the strains of a tender melody.

  Crossing her arms over her stomach, she set her jaw and turned her attention to the rolling hills all around them. Thousands of grapevines stood in shoulder-high parallel rows, their rough brown vines twisting, reaching toward each other like skinny line dancers dressed in costumes of summer green.

  She slid a covert glance at Ethan, his attention no longer on her but on the road. No man on earth had the right to look so hot in jeans, an open-collar white shirt, and dark glasses.

  She was so engrossed in watching him, she nearly jumped when he said, “What’s the name of the place we’re going again?”

  “The Casa del Giordano Winery,” she answered, adding a bit of sarcasm to her voice for his failure to remember the destination he so ardently insisted he accompany her to. “Family-owned and-operated for six generations. I went to college with Sophia Giordano.” She paused for effect. “I am staying as a guest at the main house.”

  Ethan nodded, leaned back in his seat, one hand on the wheel. “Yeah, Giordano. Good stuff. I especially like their ’97 Cabernet. I’ll be staying with you.”

  She jerked in her seat and sucked in a gaspy breath. “You are not. You cannot stay with me. I’m an invited guest, and there on business. You are an intruder.”

  “Tell them I’m your bodyguard.”

  “I will not!” she choked. “How embarrassing. This is a nice Italian family winery, not a Mafia stronghold.”

  “Then tell them I’m your boyfriend and couldn’t bear to be parted from you for even forty-eight hours.”

  “No.”

  “Clinging brother?”

  “No.”

  “Devoted hairstylist?”

  “God forbid.”

  “Factotum?”

  “You’re enjoying this far too much,” she challenged. “I only let you come along because you promised to guard me without getting underfoot.”

  His easy smile faded. “After what happened on the set the other day, I want to be a more conspicuous presence around you. It might discourage our bad guy from doing some real damage.”

  Georgie’s stomach rolled over a few times at the memory of that foul mixture, and how the taste had sickened her. She thought of Paul, his phone call, the twisted fury of his face as he’d leaned over her while she lay in her bed.

  “You got awfully quiet,” Ethan observed. “Everything okay?”

  “Sure,” she said, and left it at that. “Take the next right.”

  As Ethan veered off onto Highway 37 toward Napa, Georgie said, “Why you, Detective?”

  “Why me what?”

  “Why didn’t you assign an agent to escort me? Why is the big cheese of Paladin Private Investigations my own private bodyguard? I have a simple TV cooking show and have written a couple of books, but I’m not exactly high-profile enough to warrant your personal attention.”

  She felt as though an electrical current ran between her and the man next to her. When he turned the wheel, his arm occasionally brushed against hers, and she liked it. She’d never been more aware of anyone in her life, and it made her uncomfortable and excited at the same time.

  She cleared her throat. “I didn’t realize it was that difficult a question.”

  “Okay, look,” he said. “The truth is, I’m in a tough position here.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I’m a professional, and as such, never mix business with plea sure. To do so could impact Paladin’s reputation, and that’s something I would never do.”

&nbs
p; Georgie took in a deep breath. “Understood. But how does that—”

  “I like you, Georgie,” he said slowly, his tone low, his words measured. “I shouldn’t, but I do. I’m attracted to you. You must have figured that out by now.”

  “It occurred to me.”

  “Before or after I kissed the hell out of you?”

  “No comment.”

  “I haven’t been involved, let myself become involved with a woman for…a long time.”

  Georgie lowered her head, nodding slowly. “How, uh, how long is a long time, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  He squirmed a little in his seat. “Six years.”

  She lifted her head and looked over at him. “Oh. Well. Six years. That’s not so long. Unless you’re a dog. In which case that’s forty-two years, and that is a long time.”

  Turning to her, he smiled. “Thanks for not asking for details.”

  She pursed her lips and tilted her head. “Doesn’t mean I’m not curious.”

  So he had secrets and trust issues, too. On the one hand, she understood it; on the other, it made her feel as though she were on the outside looking in. And for some reason, she suddenly wanted in. She wanted him to confide in her, share himself with her, which was ridiculous, since she had basically no feelings for him at all, and any secrets or issues he had were certainly none of her business.

  “The bottom line,” he continued, his tone indicating they were getting back to her original question, “you need to be protected, and I thought I could handle the job, stay detached. But I’m frankly finding it very difficult.”

  “I see.”

  “I’m committed to staying by your side this weekend, and that’s exactly what I’ll do, but first thing Monday morning, I’m going to assign Lucas Russell to take over.”

  She nodded. “Lucas Russell.”

  “He’s Paladin’s best. You’ll be in fine hands, er, you’ll be safer with him than you would be with me.”

  “Safer? I don’t understand what that means. You just told me I’d be safer with you, so…What are you doing?”

  As she’d been speaking, Ethan had cranked the wheel, sending the Mercedes off the road, onto the grassy shoulder. When the car came to a halt, he pulled the e-brake and released his safety restraints.

  “Yeah, safer,” he hissed, sliding his hand around the nape of her neck. “Because Lucas Russell would never do this.”

  She looked up at him. Her pulse hammered in her ears. Her eyes widened and her mind raced.

  Ethan’s lips were inches from her own. He paused for a moment, searching her face. Then he lowered his mouth, and kissed her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Colors play an important role in feng shui. Each shade and hue has significance—positive and negative. Take brown—quiet, neutral, and woodsy. Whenever you feel frightened or insecure, brown helps ground and comfort you. Wear it when you want your man to put his faith and trust in you. Since brown isn’t a power color, however, avoid it when he’s being obstinate and hardheaded, or he’ll roll right over you—so to speak.

  Georgiana Mundy’s Feng Shui for Lovers

  Ethan yanked his dark glasses off and eased back a little so he could see Georgie’s eyes. Her lids were half closed, her irises glazed with the same simmering need he felt. Blood pounded in his ears in a primal beat as he reached down and unsnapped her seat restraints, then slid his arm around her waist and pulled her toward him. She exhaled in a sharp burst against his mouth as he lowered his head and captured her lips once more.

  Her mouth was soft, sweet, her tongue languid as it tangled with his own. She made a mewling sound at the back of her throat, and he thought he’d lose it right there, drag her out of the car and into the bushes at the side of the road, shove up her skirt, and relieve the lust he felt every time he looked at her.

  His hand managed to find its way under her shirt to cup her breast. Against her open mouth, he breathed, “This was why I shouldn’t have assigned myself to your case.”

  She licked her lips, then she licked his. “Because Lucas Russell,” she panted, “would never do this.”

  “Not unless he wanted me to rip off his balls.”

  “God, pure poetry,” she whispered. “Such a romantic.”

  He chuckled, nuzzled her neck, bit it softly, the craving for the taste of her flesh overcoming the will to push himself away. She arched back, and he pressed heated kisses to her throat, then returned his attention to her mouth.

  The blare of a horn from a passing car brought him back to his senses. Pulling away slowly, he tugged her shirt down, then eased himself into his seat.

  They sat in silence for a moment, while Ethan tried to decide whether he should apologize or not. He shot her a glance. She seemed to be as shell-shocked by the encounter as he was.

  Her hair tumbled around her shoulders, her silky knit top in disarray. Instead of looking at him, she stared out the window on her side of the car, so all he could see of her face was the curve of her flushed cheek.

  “I’m not sorry that happened,” he stated flatly as he worked to slow his heart rate to normal. “But it won’t happen again.”

  She let her head fall against the headrest, then slowly turned in his direction. When her sleepy eyes met his, she murmured, “Too bad.”

  “Look, Georgie…I don’t know what do to about this.”

  “Don’t you?” A come-hither smile tilted her swollen lips.

  Something sharp jabbed him in the heart. He didn’t want to feel this way about a woman again; didn’t want to feel this way about her, because there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it, and he wanted to do something about it. He wanted to do something about it until he’d sated himself on her, gotten her out of his system, ridden himself of this terrible need he felt every time he so much as thought of her.

  Furious at his own lack of control, he reached for his seat belt and snapped it back in place. “Buckle up,” he ordered, shoving his dark glasses on. “We’ll be there soon.”

  As Georgie straightened her clothing, finger-combed her hair, and refastened her seat belt, Ethan pulled back into traffic. In another twenty minutes, they’d arrive at the winery. There’d be other people around all weekend—he wouldn’t be alone with her, wouldn’t be able to kiss her, touch her. And thank God for that, because the next time he had her in his arms, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

  As Georgie fought to settle her nerves, she tried to keep her attention on the purpose of her visit, and not on how she’d rather be anywhere else in the world, as long as she was with Ethan…naked, his hands on her, his mouth capturing her moans of plea sure…

  Off to the right, a carved wooden sign reading casa del giordano hung from the center of a tall stone arch, which served as the winery’s main gate. The drive up the narrow paved road that wound through acres of vineyards should have been delightful, but Georgie was only vaguely aware of the lushly rolling fields outside her window, people in straw hats bent to their tasks, and the sweet and musky scent of sun-ripening fruit.

  At the very top of the hill, the main house resembled a sprawling, two-story Italian villa. Surrounded by elegant cypress trees, its cream-colored stucco walls, earth-red roof tiles, arched windows, and classic statuary were complemented by gray fieldstone steps and walkways.

  In front of the house, the driveway curved around a huge formal garden set off by an intricate pattern of neatly trimmed boxwood hedges. The fountain centerpiece offered a beautifully carved nude holding an urn on her shoulder. The pale marble sparkled in the sunlight as water splashed down her body onto the lilies floating in the large circular pool at her feet.

  Everywhere, there were flowers. Crimson, bronze, and pale pink roses bloomed in a garden to the left of the villa, while bright magenta bougainvillea rambled up the façade to tumble across the columned portico that shaded the front door.

  As the Mercedes pulled to a stop, Georgie released her seat belt and practically jettisoned herself from the car. Maybe once she put
a bit of distance between her and Ethan, her head would begin to clear and her nerves settle.

  She heard a friendly, “Ciao!” as the massive oak door swung open and a smiling Sophia Giordano stepped onto the tiled porch.

  Sophia was exactly as Georgie remembered, from her mass of gorgeous sable hair, to her brown eyes, to the flawless complexion Da Vinci could easily have rendered in oils.

  And yes, the attitude was still there in the way she held her head, the way she walked—well, slunk seductively—and most especially in the way she slid her eyes over Ethan in that hello, hot guy; I can get you, if I want you kind of way she’d always had.

  Sophia came from a long line of dollars that bought her everything from clothes to cars to men, while Georgie waited tables to put herself through college. They’d been acquaintances, but never friends.

  However, doing a segment on Casa del Giordano would serve KALM’s desire to put a spotlight on a local winery, while giving free advertising to the Giordanos. A win-win for both parties, so when Ozzie had proposed the piece, Georgie’d had no choice but to accept.

  “Welcome to the Casa del Giordano Winery,” Sophie said coolly as she meandered down the steps to throw her arms around Georgie in an air hug. “It’s so good to see you again.”

  As the two women almost embraced, Sophia whispered into her ear, “Hey, you didn’t mention you were bringing your movie-star boyfriend. What’s his name?”

  “Ethan Darling. But he’s not my boyfriend,” Georgie rushed to add.

  “His name is Darling? Oh, my God!” Sophia squealed.

  And how many women had he gotten into bed using that ridiculous name of his?

  “Ethan’s my, uh—”

  “Your boy toy?” Sophia said suggestively.

  “Uh, no. Actually, he’s my…feng shui master!” she blurted, then swallowed. “It was a last-minute kind of thing. I remember what a huge follower of the discipline you are, and thought you’d like to meet—”

  “Perfect!” Sophia rushed, eyeing Ethan once more. “How fabulous of you to bring him!”