the best wines in the world, don’t you think?”
Her words rang in the still air. Heat crept up her neck, embarrassment that she’d laid bare her insecurities.
Amado didn’t blink. “Each of us has his or her own path. By trying to follow the wrong one, you do a disservice to yourself and to others.” He laid a big, reassuring hand on her arm. “And I can’t think of a more worthy pursuit than the quest for excellent wine.” He tilted his head and his eyes glittered. “But then, I’m biased.”
Her arm heated under his palm. He was close enough that she could smell his scent. She distracted herself by trying to analyze it.
Complex aroma, rich and appealing. A risky but invigorating blend of coffee, fermented grapes, burnt wood and hardworking male.
Full and robust bouquet. The finish might well be bittersweet…but worth it.
His palm moved over her forearm. Not really going anywhere, just moving back and forth. Stroking her.
She glanced at his face, but he didn’t look up. He seemed intent on the simple motion. Was this some kind of weird Argentine seduction trick?
If it was, it appeared to be working. Strange sensations bubbled inside her. When his hand slid to her thigh, resting lightly on it through the thin fabric of her skirt, it felt as natural and unthreatening as a handshake.
Or a kiss on the cheek.
Amado’s lips brushed her cheekbone so lightly she wondered for a moment if she’d imagined it or simply wished it.
The second time his mouth rested for a moment right beside hers, until her lips stung with anticipation. His breath heated her skin.
His hand slid up her thigh, bringing her dress with it, until the hem climbed over her knee.
She realized she was leaning toward him. Since it felt so natural, she leaned closer, her nipples tight and tingling under her blousy top.
She slid one arm around him, aware of his muscled back through the soft fabric of his shirt.
Amado’s bare palm on her thigh made her gasp. He’d hiked her skirt up almost to her underwear and warmth from the fire baked her skin.
She glanced at his face. His eyes were closed, his expression simple and familiar: the intense appreciation of a connoisseur.
Susannah’s eyes slid shut as his mouth claimed hers, hot and ready. She could feel his body heat through their clothes. Almost without thinking, she pulled gently at his shirt until it came loose from his pants in the back, then she slid her fingers over the firm ridges of muscle on either side of his spine.
Excitement built inside her as their kiss deepened. Heat gathered between her legs and desire thickened inside her.
It had been a long time since she’d kissed anyone. Usually she avoided personal entanglements. She was busy, she traveled a lot, and she didn’t need the drama.
But this was perfect. They both knew what they wanted, and there was a neat and tidy ending already in sight.
Unless he was Tarrant’s son, of course. A frisson of unease rippled through her.
But that was unlikely. With his dark coloring and smooth, sculpted features, Amado didn’t look like the angular, blue-eyed Tarrant. And Clara certainly didn’t fit the mold of Tarrant’s glamorous ex-lovers.
She shoved the potential complication from her mind.
Tonight would be a delicious interlude. A sweet taste of pleasure, like the sip of a wine she knew she wouldn’t buy for the company, but that she drank purely for her own enjoyment.
Amado cupped her breast in his broad hand, strumming her nipple until it peaked against his palm.
“Come with me,” he breathed the words in her ear.
He picked up her hand and squeezed it in his. Anticipation shone in his coffee-brown eyes.
She rose from the sofa, legs shivering. Her whole body tingled with arousal, from her scalp to the soles of her well-massaged feet.
He led her by the hand, the perfect gentleman, except that he was doing something a perfect gentleman would never do—seduce a virtual stranger.
Somehow that gave her an illicit thrill.
She’d always been the good girl, the minister’s daughter no one even dared to look at, let alone entice into bed. She’d been taught from toddlerhood to set a good example for those around her. To think about others and put her own needs aside.
For a long time, she never even knew she had needs.
Right now, as her belly throbbed with desire, she was aware of little else.
Chapter Three
Amado led Susannah past antique furniture and rugs glowing with the rich colors of natural pigments. The house had obviously been lovingly cared for by generations of grateful owners.
The stairway’s curved wood banister gleamed in the distant firelight. They exchanged a cautious smile.
Well, hers was cautious, his was encouraging.
Come into my chamber, said the spider to the fly.
But she was a willing fly, so why not?
Amado’s personal bedchamber was large, with velvet floor-length draperies covering the windows. A four-poster bed carved from dark wood dominated the space. The fluffy white duvet covered the high mattress like a low-hanging cloud, inviting Susannah to sink into its softness.
Amado rested his hand on her hip. He kissed her with exquisite gentleness, taking his time, savoring her.
She let her fingers roam over his shirt, enjoying the shape of him beneath the fabric. His body was hard and athletic, capable of speed and force. But his movements were tender, almost unbearably so, as he licked her lips, brushed them with his mouth, and nuzzled his cheek gently against hers.
His suntanned skin wasn’t exactly soft, but it wasn’t rough either. Everything about Amado seemed smooth and mellow, like a fine wine.
He pulled back slightly. “Let me make you at home in my bed.”
Her insides shimmered at the prospect. Amado’s dark eyes shone with simple desire that echoed her own. His forearms brushed the sides of her breasts, stirring delicious tremors of sensation, as he unhooked and unzipped the back of her dress.
He lowered the fabric over her shoulders to reveal her bra. She’d worn a pretty one today. Had she somehow known?
His big hands cupped the silver-gray satin and lace, and rubbed her nipples gently through the fabric. Susannah couldn’t help wriggling as arousal tingled over her skin. She reached for his shirt and pulled the buttons out through the soft fabric.
Amado’s chest was thickly muscled, with a narrow trail of hair descending from his belly button into
