Risking the Vine (Romancing the Vine Book 1) Page 7

  “Well, we aren’t finishing,” Steve grunted. “This one ain’t a priority.”

  Jules shrugged. “Fine. Go ahead and clean up your stations before you hit the buffet.”

  “We have to clean up?” FIG whined as he gestured to the monumental mess his team had made with paint and glue, not to mention cork shavings. The jerk probably underpaid his administrative assist and forced her to wash out his coffee mug.

  “Part of the details on any team project is the follow-up or wrap-up. You should get in the habit of evaluating each team project you are on, determining how you can make things run smoother on the next one.”

  FIG opened his mouth to complain, but Luke beat him to it. “That’s what a good leader does. I think the people on a team appreciate it. It’s also a chance to praise people. Which is just as important.”

  Jules beamed at him. “So right, Luke. In fact, we’ll be reviewing today’s activities, what worked . . . and what didn’t, tonight at dinner. There might even be some prizes handed out. If there aren’t any other questions, you can finish here and grab lunch.”

  Cleaning wasn’t a huge chore for Jac and Luke. They’d tidied up as they’d worked, so now it was a matter of wiping down the paint bottles, rinsing out brushes, and returning the unused corks to the proper barrels. Once again, Jac marveled at how easily she and Luke had worked together. If they kept trundling along this way, they might end up the team to beat.

  Luke smiled at her as he took the brushes from her and headed to the sink. His grin warmed her system better than a good red wine. The heady heat settled with a tantalizing tug low in her pelvis.

  He returned to her side, pulling her back from her musing. “Ready to eat?”

  Her stomach rumbled loudly. Her thoughts and the embarrassment of the burbling in her tummy forced heat to climb her throat and cheeks. She grimaced. “Sorry. This morning’s eggs didn’t last, I guess. Let’s go check out the buffet before FIG and company eat everything.”

  Luke led the way to the picnic structure where they found a buffet of cold sandwiches, three varieties of salads, and a tray of the yummiest looking cookies Jac had ever seen. In front of them in line, FIG and DIG loaded their plates with the cookies, while Luke helped himself to a turkey sandwich. He carried Jac’s plate so she could grab soft drinks for them.

  She followed him to a long table with benches on either side. Luke deposited her plate across from his.

  As they settled on the benches, Belinda and Sally came over. “Mind if we join you?”

  Jac nodded, though she’d have enjoyed continuing getting to know Luke better. “Sure. How did you do with this morning’s project?”

  “We finished, but it’s crap.” Belinda laughed as she climbed over the bench to sit.

  “No it isn’t,” Sally disagreed. “It turned out okay.”

  Belinda narrowed her eyes, sending the younger woman a quelling stare. “It sucks and you know it. In our defense, we’re lawyers, not artists.”

  Color pinked Sally’s ears. “But—”

  “No buts about it. We aren’t creative people,” Belinda demurred in disgust.

  She eyed Luke. “We checked out your picture after we finished cleaning up. It was really good. I wonder if Jules would sell it to me, too? It would make a great companion piece for the other one I bought.”

  “Jacqui really made it come to life. I never even considered using the paint, but she had a vision.” Luke patted Jac’s hand where it rested on the table.

  Sally raised her brows. “Are you an artist?” she asked Jac.

  “Not even close. I’m in account services with a medical records and billing company.” Jac laughed, the sound tinged with an unfamiliar darkness. Hoping to take the focus off herself, she changed the topic. “What kind of law do you practice?”

  Belinda straightened and set down her fork. “Employment law. We deal mainly with discrimination and harassment lawsuits. We’re based in New York.”

  Luke shot Jac a fast look before leaning forward. “You’re talking about cases where qualified people are passed over for a position and someone less qualified being promoted?”

  “Exactly.” Sally beamed at Luke.

  Please don’t go there. Please don’t. Jac sent the mental command with a squint she hoped Luke would catch. She was having a good time and didn’t want to spoil it with thoughts about the office and the situation she found herself in.

  Apparently, Luke received the message. “Sounds like interesting work. Were you involved in the case against the Knicks in New York?”

  Belinda nodded. “Our firm was. We sat at the defendant’s table in the courtroom.”

  “Ouch! That had to suck for them. What was the final judgment? Something near five million?”

  “Six. And in my opinion, it wasn’t enough.” Belinda’s tone bordered on giddy. It was obvious she would have worked for the plaintive.

  Jac paid attention to her meal, rather than the conversation. As some point, the toe of her sneaker connected to the tip of Luke’s. Her gaze flew to his eyes, which held a promising gleam. Neither bothered to shift their feet.

  Conversation flowed and she uttered an occasional response, just to make it seem she was attentive. But her thoughts wandered to Luke’s mouth, and his broad chest, and the way his fingers flexed as he peeled and sectioned his orange. The sweet citrus tang filled the air, making her mouth water. He offered half of the fruit to her, which she readily accepted. The taste of sunshine burst on her tongue.

  A couple of the other teams stopped by their table to compliment them on the art they’d created. Their praise was lavish, causing pride to swell in her chest. Several of the other teams disappeared into the barn to finish their projects before the next event began.

  “I need to check in with my office before the afternoon exercise,” Luke said after their lunch companions left the table. “What are you going to do?”

  “Well, I won’t be calling Ted.” She’d deliberately left her phone on the desk in her room so she couldn’t be reached. She didn’t want to talk to him until she’d formed some kind of plan. “I think I’ll take a walk through the vineyard.”

  “You want company?” he offered.

  “I thought you had calls to make.”

  “They can wait.” He dropped his hand to hers where it rested on the table.

  The need to rotate her hand so they were palm to palm was strong. She bit her lip and shook her head. “You go ahead and make your calls. I can use some time to start formulating what I intend to say to Ted once I do call him back.”

  “I vote you tell him to go to hell.” Luke’s grin eased his harsh words.

  “As tempting as that sounds, I should probably come up with something better. Something more along the lines of telling him I’ll be leaving for a company where I’ll be celebrated, not merely tolerated.”

  “That’s the spirit.” He patted her hand, encouraging and comforting at the same time. Once he stood, he stretched his arms overhead. The white shirt he’d left untucked shifted above the belt on his jeans, revealing taut stomach muscles adorned with a thin line of hair spearing south.

  It was probably wrong to want to sweep her tongue down that trail to discover the treasure at the end of the line. Sparks erupted between her thighs. Jac’s mouth went dry and her heart sped up just thinking about it.

  If Luke noticed her fascination with his abdomen, he didn’t let on. “I’ll meet you at the cask room in thirty minutes. Do you need anything from me?”

  Oh, she needed something from him. Bemused, she dragged her gaze to his face. “Anything?”

  Humor, tinged with desire darkened his eyes. His lips curved into a slow, suggestive smile. “I meant like a sweater or different pair of shoes, or your phone. But I’m open to other ideas.”

  “
Oh.” She reined in her erotic imagination and forced the muscles on her face to relax. “No, I think I’m good.”

  Luke scooted around the table with nimble grace. When he reached her side, he extended his arm, offering to help her out of her seat. After she laid her hand in his, he jerked her up and against his body. The second her breasts brushed against the hard plane of his chest, fire burst between them. Breath froze in her lungs as he stared at her upturned face, zeroing in on her lips.

  Jac kept her focus on him as he lowered his mouth to hers. Flecks of silver popped in his blue eyes, a thin line of brown ringed the iris. His eyes were made more exotic by the thick, dark lashes surrounded them. Once his lips touched hers, the lashes swept down, brushing her cheek as he angled his head.

  She sank into the kiss and closed her eyes, a glittering kaleidoscope flaring behind her eyelids. The touch of his hand when he laid it on her hip was hot, solid, and inviting. Desire shook her when he tugged her lower lip between his and sucked hard.

  If he kept kissing her this way, she’d melt into a puddle of please-do-me-now right in front of him. Laying her hand to his chest, she applied the smallest pressure to his heated muscles. Luke broke the seal between their lips and stepped a scant two inches away from her. His orange-scented breath brushed sweetly on her face.

  Clearing her throat, she toyed with the buttons on his shirt before murmuring, “We, uh, should probably hold this thought for later.” And she meant it. Later, if he wanted to go where this kiss led, she’d go right with him. And if he didn’t want to go, well, she’d do her damnedest to convince him otherwise. What a difference a few hours of working next to the magnetic man had made.

  Luke rested his forehead against hers, his hands remaining on her hips, sure and possessive. “Later. Right.” He drew a deep breath.

  She didn’t like the bereft feeling that remained after he released her. “Maybe we could skip the afternoon session. I mean, I might get sent home and not get to complete the course anyway.”

  A wry grin twisted his features. “We might be missed if we blew it off. Besides, like I said earlier, we do live in the same town. And I’m guessing, based on the fact you kissed me back—quite nicely, I might add—you aren’t opposed to a relationship with me.”

  Surprise fluttered in her chest, like grape leaves trembling in a breeze. When had she made that decision? “I guess I’m not.”

  “Then there’s plenty of time.” He stepped away from her, trailing fingers along her arm. He grasped her hand and squeezed. Letting go, he began to walk backward away from her, his gaze intent. “Go take your walk. We’ll pick this up later. That’s a promise.”

  Chapter 6

  The second Luke checked in with his office, agitation replaced the sensual tug that had erupted when he kissed Jac. Too damn bad he couldn’t take a step back in time and rethink calling his admin assistant for an update.

  The news was all bad. The nursing staff took offense over the slow resolution on the grievance with Dr. Dipshit, the intern who’d crossed the imaginary line they’d drawn on the linoleum. Plus the brand-spanking new medical center comptroller had called three times, each time slightly more urgent in her demand for Luke to return her phone calls.

  The bean counter had only started three weeks ago and had spent time poring over financial statements like nobody’s business. Apparently she’d found some discrepancies in the books and wanted to discuss them. A quick call to her had confirmed Luke’s growing impression the woman had exaggerated her skill level on her application.

  Once he’d listened to her brief but terse demand for his attention, Luke issued an order of his own—she needed to get her facts and suspicions together and they’d meet the instant he returned. After telling her to schedule an appointment, he disconnected the call and dropped his phone to the desk.

  He cracked his neck from side to side in hopes of easing the residual tension left by the demands of his job. He loved what he did, but it had become a 24/7 proposition he hadn’t been prepared for. What made it even more wearing, he’d found something . . . someone, who’d created a welcome distraction.

  Staring blankly at the oatmeal colored coverlet on the bed, it wasn’t difficult to imagine Jac nestled among the rich brown pillows strewn across it. His body tensed just thinking about having her under him, being inside her.

  He blew out a breath. If he continued this line of thought, her close proximity for the rest of the afternoon would be sweet torture. No doubt he would have to start visualizing spreadsheets and board reports to keep his hard-to-tame reaction to her from becoming painfully obvious. His laugh was short and bitter as he finally left to meet her at the cask room.

  When he slipped in beside her, Jac’s glance was warm and relieved.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d make it on time. Marcus is about to start explaining what we’re doing. Trouble at the office?” she whispered.

  “Just like any other day. It will keep until I get back. Did I miss anything important?” he asked.

  “No.” Her honey amber hair danced on her shoulders as she shook her head.

  Luke glanced around the cavernous space, barely containing the impressed whistle about to leak from his lips. Walking through the door, he’d noticed how the storage facility was built into a hillside. The humidity was constant in caves like this, making them ideal for aging wine. The room seemed endless, stretching away from him, and angling slightly downhill. An intricate series of risers held at least a hundred oak wine barrels.

  From where he stood, he could see the way the platforms were constructed to keep everything level. Exposed brick support arches broke the rounded line of the roof of the cave. Pendant lights and wall sconces provided the only illumination.

  In the dim light, the deteriorating condition of the whitewash paint on the walls and ceilings became more obvious. This was the project they’d work on next.

  Marcus’ instructions caught his attention. “We aren’t going to do the ceiling today. We’re leaving that to the guys who own scaffolding and precision painting equipment. All we’ll focus on is the area behind the barrels. You’ll have about three feet of space to work in, so the conditions aren’t optimal.”

  He smiled at the scattered groans. “I know, a colossal understatement. Bumping into, or jarring the barrels in any way is bad. Getting paint on one could affect the flavor and could be catastrophically bad. Knocking one off a stand is grounds for immediate dismissal from the program.”

  FIG snorted. “What the—”

  Marcus raised his hand to stay FIG’s protest. “Just kidding. But please be careful around the casks. The balance is fragile and unintentional stirring of the contents can change the fermentation schedule.”

  Jac held up a finger. “I assume you’re providing coveralls or something to protect our clothing.”

  Sweeping his arm to the left, Marcus indicated a row of supply carts Luke hadn’t noticed. “Everything you need is over there. You’ll see there’s tape on the floor designating where your team is painting. The right side tiers of barrels are set a bit farther away from the wall so there is a miniscule amount of more room to work. We took space limitations into account when we assigned spots.”

  Steve’s chuckle was harsh as he thumped FIG’s gut. “So, basically you’re saying the heavyweights should look for their area on the right.”

  Marcus kept his expression stoic. “All I’m saying is like any good team leader, we tried to accommodate so the task at hand is easier to accomplish. It’s a practice you should get in the habit of considering. Each team member will have a set of skills and strengths to bring to the project. You have to identify and use their talents and abilities in the best way possible.”

  Jac nudged his arm. “I’m impressed by how Jules and Marcus always manage to spin any negatives into a teaching opportunity,” she whispered.

&nb
sp; Luke leaned down, putting his mouth next to her ear. “It’s a trick we should probably remember.” A hint of cinnamon and cloves drifted from her hair, the scent an intoxicating perfume.

  “This is not just a slap-some-color on the wall exercise. The walls are rough and every inch needs to be coated with the whitewash. It might take a little creativity on your part. You have until half past four to finish painting and clean up any mess you make. I’ll be around if you need any help.” Marcus snapped his fingers. “Go on, what are you waiting for? Walls ain’t gonna paint themselves.” His laugh boomed off the rounded ceiling, echoing the length of the room.

  Luke followed Jac to the supply cart labeled with their names. She sorted through the contents, bending at the waist to check out the lower shelf. Breath froze in his throat at the sight of her rocking ass outlined in tight denim. He swallowed hard, hoping to curb the urge to sweep his hand over her backside.

  Jac grabbed the paint-splattered coveralls, handing him a pair. Warmth flared in his cheeks when she caught him staring at her ass. She flushed a becoming shade of pink and shifted, as if self-conscious.

  He accepted the heavy cotton painters’ uniform from her. “Sorry. The view was too awesome not to appreciate.”

  The way she pressed her lips together, he was certain she meant to contain a smile, instead of showing anger. “You are incorrigible. We better get busy or we’ll never finish.”

  “Right.” Luke toed off his tennis shoes. After shaking out the protective covering, he held the outfit against his body. “Um . . . maybe we could switch.”