Savor the Seduction Page 5

  “I’m not sure what that means.”

  “It means I want to kiss you all the time, rake my hands up your belly and feel the weight of your breasts in my hands. It means I want to sit up all night and talk with you about everything and nothing. It means I want you to be my first all over again.” He huffed out a laugh. “I sound like a fool.”

  Anna didn’t know what to think or feel. She was annoyed at his vacillation, yet she loved his words. They were from his heart, she knew, but they scared her. Why couldn’t he understand that what he said drew her closer to him—to a man who might not want her in the end.

  He leaned in, close to her ear. “I don’t know. I’m so goddamned confused. Back home I knew my life, I knew my routine, I knew I’d never get married. Hell, I knew I’d never meet anyone like…”

  He paused, pulled his head back. His eyes filled with unease and lust as he stared at her. It was an odd combination. And a thrilling one.

  Anna rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “I think you should go now.”

  “Anna…”

  Anna shook her head. She couldn’t hear any more. It was pure torture—for both of them. Making love was one thing. It was pleasure with a fabulous escapist quality they both could get lost in for a while, but this was different—this speaking from the heart about fears and desire—it hurt too much.

  Knuckles white from gripping the door too hard, Anna muttered a quick, “I’ll see ya.”

  Grant clearly didn’t want to leave. He stood there for a moment, perhaps wanting to call upon that selfishness he claimed she brought out in him. But after a moment, his eyes, once impassioned, turned resigned and he nodded. “See you tomorrow, Anna.”

  And without another word he was gone.

  Five

  Cool, crisp and heavenly.

  It was the perfect description for Louret’s new chardonnay, but when Anna stepped out the door of the cottage the following day—Jack in hand—and headed for the main house, she was giving the three-adjective compliment to the lovely November day.

  The holidays were approaching, turning the green leaves into brown-and-gold papier mâché, inviting the hot days of Indian summer to take a break and enjoy the winter coolness. Anna loved this time of year. Though she’d passed most holiday time alone, she’d always wished to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with a family—a big family. And as the climate turned, as the spirit of the season turned, she couldn’t help but wonder what this year would bring.

  “House, Mama?” Jack asked, squeezing his mother’s hand.

  “That’s right, love.”

  On the small, well-manicured front lawn of the Vines, under a stand of spectacularly old oak trees, Caroline, her daughters and the staff were hard at work setting tables with linens, flowers and beautifully prepared lunch baskets. With Ashton Winery having hosted a very successful charity auction just one month before, Caroline had been inspired to do a little holiday charity work of her own for the children’s shelter.

  And she was doing a bang-up job of it.

  The Vines looked amazing. The perfect marriage of fall and romance fairly danced in the air, and all about the exterior of the house. The country-style home had earned its nickname with the seemingly endless trail of wild vines growing up its weathered stones and trellises.

  And it seemed, Anna mused, that most of Napa Valley’s finest had shown up, their pockets full and deep. Everywhere Anna looked she saw people. Guests were milling about, inside the house and out. And on the tables, the numbers of baskets grew by the minute.

  At her side Jack squealed. He’d caught sight of Seth and Jillian and little Rachel and took off toward them. When Anna finally caught up with them on the lawn closest to the entrance to the house, Jillian immediately fell into girlfriend mode.

  The tall, slender brunette smiled at Anna and touched her shoulder. “Feeling better?”

  “Much,” Anna said in all sincerity. “Again, thank you so much for watching Jack.”

  Jillian’s smile widened. “Rachel just loves playing with Jack, so if you’re ever in need of a babysitter again—or two or three—we’d love it.”

  “Thanks. That’s incredibly generous of you.”

  “It’s no problem at all.”

  She watched Seth and Jack and Rachel play with two purple beanbags. “Well, I’ll definitely let you know, then.”

  “Sounds good.” Jillian shrugged. “Maybe for a night out.”

  “Sure,” she said casually.

  “To go on a date or something.”

  Anna raised a brow. “Or something?”

  Jillian shrugged. “Could be a good thing.”

  Yes, it could be, Anna thought, a tad dispirited. She’d thought about having a night out with Grant too many times to count, but venturing out in public never seemed smart before or after Spencer’s death. And now things were slightly strained between them as they tried to figure out where they stood—if they stood.

  “How long’s it been, Anna?”

  Jillian’s query tugged her back to reality, and she asked, confused, “How long has it been for what?”

  “Since you last had a date?”

  Anna went scarlet. “Oh, Lord,” she began, keeping her voice down so Seth and anyone else who might be listening wouldn’t hear her. “I haven’t been on a date in three years.

  Jillian looked shocked. “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  Jillian opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out as a masculine voice said, “What is it you’re afraid of, Anna?”

  Anna turned. Standing just a few feet away, listening to their private and embarrassing conversation—or hopefully just the tail end of it—was Grant. He looked exceptionally handsome today, as if he was trying to make her lose her mind completely. Faded jeans that molded to his muscular legs—legs that worked the land on a daily basis—and a soft-looking blue shirt, rolled up at the cuffs. His eyes blazed interest and sensuality, and appeared blue-green against his shirt.

  Anna didn’t waste time blushing. “I…well, I’m afraid that my chocolate chip cookies might be overdone. I left them in the oven just a bit too long.” She looked at Jillian, who rolled her lips under her teeth to keep from grinning.

  Grant was only watching Anna. “What happened to the apple pie?”

  “I decided against it.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Thought I’d try something new.”

  He stared intently at her. “Something new?”

  Once again, they weren’t talking about her apple pie.

  Grant shrugged, tossed out, “The pie a little too old for your taste? Is that it?”

  “No,” she said irritably. “Just that the apples seemed a bit sour when I tasted them again.” No, this definitely wasn’t about pie. “Like they clearly hadn’t been ready to be picked.”

  Grant’s brows drew together in a decided frown. He was angry, maybe even a bit confused. But she didn’t care. She wanted him to understand that she got it—got him—got that he was in this quasirelationship for the short term and was not ready to be anything more than lovers.

  And, heck, if it took talking through apple pie to make him see that—so be it!

  Jillian, looking uncomfortable, hustled back over to Seth and the kids.

  Grant rubbed his jaw. “You look nice.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No, I mean it. Really nice.” His gaze swept over her pale pink dress and matching pumps. “Too nice, too damn nice for your own good.”

  “What’s wrong with you today?”

  “Nothing,” he said gruffly. “So, which basket is yours?”

  “Why?”

  “You know why, Anna Sheridan. Let’s stop playing these silly games.” A slow grin tugged at the sides of his mouth. “We’re too old for it.”

  “We’re too old?” she returned with mock severity.

  “Okay. Maybe just me, but isn’t this getting ridiculous? We’re friends as well as—”


  “Stop.” She gave a small gasping laugh. It was a lost cause trying to be mad at him, even for something as serious as her future. He was right. They were friends. Probably first and last. She turned around and pointed to the table full of baskets. “That one there.”

  “Which one exactly?” he asked.

  “The white wicker with the red bow and the scent of sweet chocolate.”

  “Thank you,” he said, sighing heavily.

  “But are you sure you’re in the mood for chocolate today, Grant?”

  His eyes darkened to a deep forest green and he muttered thickly, “Oh, I’m in the mood.”

  “Twenty-five dollars isn’t going to help the Children’s Shelter buy toys for Christmas,” Caroline called, continuing to rev up the crowd with her amusing dramatic tone as she waved a wooden gavel from the mock auction block she’d set up. “C’mon, Jared, I have it on good authority that Mercedes has all the fixings for a romantic evening at a remote cabin in that basket.”

  Before Jared could get a word out, a man from the back of the crowd, who clearly had no idea about Mercedes’s condition or her recent marriage, shouted, “I have a remote cabin. One hundred dollars.”

  “No one bids on my wife,” Jared muttered darkly, his blue eyes hot. “Two hundred and fifty dollars.” Jared glanced around. “Any other offers?” he said, as if he were ready to box the next guy who spoke.

  No one did.

  Caroline cleared her throat and said quickly, “Two fifty going, going, gone.”

  By Jared’s side, Mercedes smiled and hugged him tightly.

  “Now, with just a few baskets left,” Caroline continued, her hazel eyes dancing. “We’re on to this pretty yellow number. It’s mine, so my husband had better start—and if he knows what’s good for him—end the bidding. What do you say, Lucas?”

  From the very front row of the crowd came a loud hoot and a raised hand from the man with the thinning hair and lively blue eyes. “Five hundred dollars.”

  “Sold!” Caroline shouted before anyone could interject. “To that very handsome gentleman there.”

  Lucas jumped up and grabbed the basket. Everyone laughed and clapped enthusiastically.

  Caroline let them go on for a while, then with a raise of the gavel, she said loudly, “All right then. We’re on to this very creative white basket that, if I may say, has an amazing scent of chocolate coming from inside.”

  Anna held her breath as her basket was brought to the front table. She had this funny feeling in her belly, like sixth-grade gym class and the popularity contest of picking softball teams.

  “Twenty-five dollars,” a man shouted.

  “Fifty dollars,” said another.

  “Seventy-five.”

  Anna promptly forgot about gym class and smiled proudly.

  “One hundred dollars.”

  “One twenty-five.”

  “One thousand dollars.”

  Anna’s hand flew to her throat. The crowd gasped, then began whispering and looking around for who had made such an enormous bid.

  “How generous,” Caroline said, her own gaze searching the crowd.

  No more bids came. In fact, the only sounds that could be heard were coming from nature; wind in the trees, birds, maybe a sneeze or two.

  “No other bids?” Caroline said, and with great ceremony added, “All right. One thousand dollars going, going gone.”

  In those heavy seconds, Anna held perfectly still. She wondered who she would be having lunch with today. She certainly knew who she wanted to have lunch with, but there was no way he could afford…

  “Please come up and claim your basket, sir,” Caroline said, her gaze still searching the crowd.

  Heavy with applause, the crowd parted like the Red Sea. A proud-looking Grant Ashton walked to the front of the podium and reached up for Anna’s basket. Anna’s mouth dropped open, and didn’t close even when Grant thanked Caroline, then walked up to Anna and gestured for her to come with him.

  After a quick look at Jillian, who smiled and pointed to an absorbed Rachel and Jack as they played with some building blocks on the grass, Anna followed Grant.

  “What have you done?” Anna asked when they finally reached the picnic spot that Caroline and her workers had set up on another pretty expanse of lawn on the east side of the house, complete with blankets and plenty of shade.

  “What do you mean, what have I done?” Grant asked as he set the basket down on a pretty blue blanket, then dropped down beside it. “You knew I was going to bid on your basket.”

  “One thousand dollars, Grant?”

  “It’s for a good cause.”

  “But—”

  He glanced up, his gaze serious. “I’m no poor farmer, Anna.”

  She fell silent. She’d obviously made a foolish assumption and was very embarrassed about it.

  She gave him a soft smile. “Thank you. And the children thank you.”

  He returned her smile, took her hand. “Sit with me.”

  The blue blanket was soft and inviting and she did as he asked. “You know, you’ve just announced to the entire family that we…well, that we’re friends.”

  Grant chuckled. “As if they didn’t know.”

  True enough. “Well, if you’re fine with it, I’m fine with it.”

  “I’m fine with it,” he said succinctly.

  She smiled at him and switched gears. “I have to say, I feel an enormous amount of pressure.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “You just paid an exorbitant amount of money for some roast chicken, red skinned potato salad, biscuits and a dozen chocolate chip cookies.”

  “And a piece of that apple pie.”

  “But—”

  He put a hand up. “And I don’t care how sour it is.”

  “All right.”

  “How about you? Do you care how sour it is?”

  With green eyes that made her melt, Anna shook her head. “No, I don’t care, either.” It wasn’t exactly true. She cared. She cared about what happened tomorrow and the next day and the next, but she couldn’t resist him, either. Bottom line, she wanted to spend time with him with or without the promise of a future.

  Jack came running over, looking hungry. “Eat?”

  Anna laughed, and Grant said, “Here you go, Jack. Have some of your mama’s roast chicken.”

  Not far behind, Jillian, Seth and Rachel came walking over. “Sorry to interrupt your picnic,” Jillian said. “But Seth has just informed me that—suspiciously—he’s not very hungry, so we’re going to forgo my basket and head out.”

  “Your breakfast really filled me up, honey, that’s all.” Seth had the decency to look sheepish.

  Jillian rolled her eyes. “I need to take a cooking class, that’s all there is to it. Anyway, before we head inside, Rachel wanted to ask you something.”

  Anna smiled at the cute little girl. “What is it, sweetie?”

  “Can Jack stay at our house tonight?”

  “Hmmm. I don’t know,” Anna said.

  Rachel bent her knees, cocked her head and released a very long, “Pleeeeeeease.”

  Anna laughed. “It’s just that he’s so little yet, I—”

  “I know,” Jillian interjected. “We—Seth and I—just thought maybe you could use a night off, for whatever.”

  Anna stared at her conniving, though very sweet, friend. For whatever. Right. This was all about their date discussion earlier.

  Grant nudged her. “You know, you could use a night off.”

  “I had one.”

  “You were sick.” Grant said, picking up a chicken leg. “That’s not a night off.”

  “It’ll do you good,” Seth added with a smile.

  It was a conspiracy. Yet, maybe a good one, a well-deserved one. Anna looked from Seth to Jillian. “Are you sure about this?”

  Jillian beamed. “We’d love it.”

  Anna shrugged. “All right.”

  Rachel squealed and started listing off all the things she
and baby Jack were going to do. Anna could feel Grant’s gaze on her.

  “We’ll bring him home in the morning,” Jillian said on a laugh. “Say around, ten?” She looked from Grant to Anna. “Or is that too early?”

  Grant chuckled.

  Heat surged into Anna’s cheeks. “Ten is just fine.”

  “Now, have a seat,” Grant said. “And share this lunch with us. There’s plenty of chicken and biscuits.”

  Seth hunkered down next to Grant and Jack and dug in. “I love biscuits.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, Jillian said sternly, “I thought you were full from breakfast?”

  Anna laughed as Seth looked up at his wife. “I love you, honey.”

  She rolled her eyes again and sat down. Anna gave her a biscuit and some potato salad, and the two couples and their children shared lunch and a wonderful afternoon.

  Six

  It was close to four-thirty when Grant walked Anna back to the cottage. He hadn’t left her side since the picnic lunch, and it was a good thing, too, he mused. It hadn’t been easy for her to give up Jack for the night. In fact, she’d almost caved at the last minute, and he’d had to remind her how important it was for every parent to take a break—not just sick leave—but a real break every now and then. So, with some gentle prodding from Jillian and a very excited Rachel, Anna had left the Vines looking pretty okay with the whole thing.

  Grant watched her swing the empty picnic basket back and forth as she walked to the front door of the cottage. She looked like a child herself, happy, relaxed, unaware of the opulence that surrounded her. He admired that about her. He was always aware of what was around him, how it affected things, where it would lead him.

  He’d like a little of her carefree attitude in times like these.

  Anna unlocked the front door, but before she went inside she turned back to him and smiled. “Thanks.”

  He leaned against the stucco. “For what?”

  “For many things, but most of all for giving such a large sum to help the children. That was…”

  “It was right. That’s all.”

  She looked at him with true longing in her gaze. In all his years of being a man, from teenager to now, no woman had ever looked at him the way Anna did, as if he was a raw, unchecked, flesh-and-blood man who was really worth something.