will be a family event,” Luca said in a controlled sort of way that made the fact of his temper a living thing, dancing there between them. All the more obvious because it was hidden. Controlled. Just as he always had been—except for last night. Kathryn had to conceal the shiver that moved through her then. “Rafael, Lily and I—and therefore you, as my personal shadow—are expected at another winery in Napa.”
“The next valley over.”
“Yes.” He set the silver coffeepot down on the table between them with a hint of something like violence, if carefully restrained. “Your command of geography is impressive.”
“As is your use of sarcasm.”
“Careful, Kathryn.” His voice seemed darker then. Deeper. Infinitely more dangerous. “I know too much about you now. Far too many secrets about what makes you...” He paused, and she flushed then. She couldn’t help it, no matter that she saw that gleam of satisfaction in his dark gaze and hated the both of them. “Tick.” He eyed her. “You should keep that in mind.”
He meant sex. All of this was about sex, the last topic on earth she wanted to discuss—especially with him. But it shot through her anyway, flame and heat, like the word itself was a heavy stone plummeting from a great height. It hit bottom in that molten-hot place between her legs, where she could still feel him. Where no amount of soaking in that bath earlier had managed to wipe away the exquisite feel of his hands or his mouth. She felt branded. Marked.
Though she thought she’d rather die right where she sat than let him know it.
“I’m so glad you brought that up,” she said crisply. “Obviously, what happened last night can never happen again. You are my late husband’s son and my supervisor, not to mention the fact that you are anything but a fan of mine. I’m appalled that we got as carried away as we did.”
“If you plan to clutch at your pearls, you should have worn some.” Luca’s voice sounded decadent then. Dark and rich, and with that lazy note to it besides, as if he was enjoying himself. “As it is, it’s difficult to take anything you say seriously when I can see how hard your nipples are, Kathryn. I don’t think the word you’re looking for is appalled.”
Kathryn would never know how she managed to keep herself from looking down at her own breasts then, where she could feel a traitorous tightening that suggested he was right. How she only stared back at him with a faintly pitying air instead.
“It’s winter, Luca,” she said, almost gently. “You’re wearing a suit. I am not. Do you need me to explain how female biology works?”
And that impossibly golden smile of his flashed then, as beautiful and bright as it was totally unexpected.
“Do you?” he asked, and there was that same note in his voice that every part of her recognized, down into her bones. It took her a moment to place it.
I have to taste you, he’d growled at her last night before he’d done just that. In exactly this same way.
Kathryn went very still. Or he did. Or maybe it was the world that stopped for a long, taut moment, as if there was nothing but the pounding of her heart and that betraying tightening everywhere else. As if he really could see straight into her. As if he knew. As if, were she to give him the slightest signal, he’d simply sweep all the breakfast things off the table and haul her across it, setting his mouth to her the way he had in all that silvery moonlight.
How could she fear him and want him at the same time?
“Good morning.”
Rafael’s voice from the doorway cut through the tension between them as if he’d used one of the ceremonial swords that hung theatrically in the château’s tasting room in another part of the winery.
Kathryn told herself it was a relief. That it was relief that coursed through her, syrupy and thick.
She swiveled to face him, entirely too aware that Luca did the same thing—entirely too aware of Luca, come to that.
Rafael’s cool gaze moved between them. From Luca to Kathryn and then back, and Kathryn was suddenly certain that he knew. That he could see what had happened between them, that he could hear the echo of those impossible cries she’d made into the night, that she was marked bright red and obvious.
“Lily and I won’t be coming with you tonight” was all he said, in that remote way of his that made him such an excellent CEO. “She’s having some contractions, and it’s better that she stay off her feet.”
“Is she all right?” Kathryn asked, frowning. “Isn’t it a little bit early?” And then she regretted it when two pairs of dark and speculative Castelli eyes fixed on her in a way she didn’t like at all. She forced a smile. “I beg your pardon. Am I not allowed to ask now that I’m merely a Castelli Wine employee?”
“No,” Luca said at once. “It makes me question your motives.”
“You would do that anyway,” she replied smoothly, without looking at him. “As far as I can tell, it’s your favorite pastime.”
Rafael smiled, and Kathryn was certain she didn’t like the way he did it. “Lily is fine, Kathryn. Thank you for asking. This is nothing particularly worrisome, but her doctor would prefer she put her feet up for a few days, and that means another work event would be too much.”
He aimed that smile at his brother then, and it took on a sharper edge that even Kathryn could feel. She was aware of Luca stiffening at his place across the table.
And of Rafael, still there in the doorway, his gaze entirely too assessing. “But it looks as if you have things as well in hand as ever, brother. I leave it to you.”
HALFWAY THROUGH THE formal dinner laid out with luxurious attention to detail in one of the Napa winery’s private rooms up high on a hillside, every plate and glass and carefully arranged bit of food as choreographed as some refined ballet, Luca was so darkly furious he had no idea how he kept to his seat.
He told himself it wasn’t fury. Or it shouldn’t have been. That Kathryn was simply doing what she did, what she had always done and always would, and there was no point reacting to it at all—
But that didn’t help. Every time her musical little laugh floated across the table, he tensed. Every time that silver-haired jackass to her left with the wandering hands touched her, he thought smoke might pour from his ears.
It was one thing to know that this was what she did. That she was no doubt lining up potential selections for her future wherever she went. He’d never expected anything less. Yet it turned out it was something else to witness her in action.
Particularly when he could still feel her. Still hear those cries in his ears. Still taste her, the hard nub of her nipple and that creamy heat below.
Damn her.
He had no memory of the conversations he must have engaged in with the people sitting on either side of him. When the eternal dinner ground to an end at last and he could finally get the hell away, he escorted Kathryn to their waiting car with a hand that was, he could admit, perhaps a little too insistent against the small of
