8
On his way over, Warren watched Richard say something to Charli and then head over to the bar, presumably to get drinks.
Perfect timing, my man.
Warren circled around and purposely came up behind Charli, leaving her no time to don a surly mask. “May I have this dance?”
“Do you want to dance—” Charli looked down at Warren’s hold on her “—or arm wrestle?” The smile was still there but her eyes showed fire. “That’s a pretty tight grip.”
He loosened it, but didn’t release her. “You look to be the type who can handle it.”
“Kindly let me go,” she demanded.
“Kindly let me have this dance.”
Charli was just about to jerk away from him when she saw Alice heading their way, with someone she despised even more than the Drakes.
“Charlene!” Alice stopped, her arm looped around the arm of the man who accompanied her. “Look who I spotted just as he was entering the room.”
The man reached for Charli’s hand. “Hello, beautiful.”
She tucked it behind her and stepped closer to Warren. “Hi, Cedric.”
“It’s been a long time, Charlene. You look good.”
“Miss Alice, if you’ll excuse us. We were just heading to the dance floor.”
Once in the throng of dancers swaying to the smooth, soulful sounds of a song about distant lovers, Warren quickly wrapped his arms around Charli’s waist. He was assaulted by many things at once: the smell of perfume, the softness of silk and the feel of this woman’s body next to his own. She felt so right. With her in heels, her temple brushed his chin. If she turned and tilted her head oh so slightly the kiss would be right there. Hot, he imagined. Long, he’d make sure. There was only word for it: heaven. So much so that he was tempted to ignore the reason this morsel had wound up in his arms. But he didn’t.
“Ex-boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Ex-lover?”
“Can we just dance?”
“Certainly.” With the fluidity of one trained in this art, Warren took Charli’s left hand in his right, even as he gently yet firmly pressed her flush against him. “Just follow my lead,” he whispered in her ear. With that he spun them around, swaying smoothly to the beat. He rubbed his thumb across the small of her back, eased his hand precariously close to Charli’s firm, round booty. Close enough to feel the curve, far enough to still be a gentleman. Barely.
* * *
She tried to focus elsewhere: on the decor, the music (though Marvin Gaye seriously was not helping matters), even the bouffant hairdo on the town’s matriarch, Mrs. Gentry. But nothing was proving distracting. Warren’s presence was all-consuming—from his hard chest to his dance moves, from his cologne to the vibration from his chest as he hummed the song. When he pulled her into his arms, her knees had almost buckled. Even now, only sheer willpower prevented her from melting into his powerful frame, teasing the hair at the nape of his neck and resting her forehead against his strong jaw. It had been a long time since she’d felt safe enough to relax, let her guard down, live without worry. Being with someone like Warren could help her feel that way.
Except being with Warren wasn’t a possibility. Ever.
“Is that guy a problem?”
She could feel the strength in his chest as he spoke. God, what that deep voice did to parts of her soul! But it did something else. It took her out of her musings and brought her crashing back down to the reality of where she was and why. Dancing had given her a temporary reprieve from the man she would have been altogether peachy with never seeing again in life. But sooner or later she knew she’d have to deal with Cedric. She told herself there was no fear there, but shivered nonetheless.
The song ended. Warren stepped back, his hands on her arms, his eyes boring into her. “Charli, are you all right?”
“I can take care of myself,” she replied with a defiant lift of her chin.
“That’s not what I asked you.”
For an awkward moment they stood there, something indefinable yet palpable passing between them. Another song started, this one upbeat, and soon more couples swirled around them.
“Thanks for the dance,” he said with one last squeeze of her arm. And then he was gone.
If he’d waited a second more he would have seen that Charli didn’t stay alone for long. She felt a lone finger run down her bare back and wheeled around. “Stop it!” I should have known he’d hound me. “Look, Cedric. I don’t want any trouble out of you. I just want you to leave me alone.”
“Or what?” Cedric looked around. “Is that your boyfriend? He doesn’t scare me.”
“I’m no longer that little girl that you cornered in the barn,” Charli said with a sneer, as rising memories pushed her past the point of worrying about decorum or caring for her safety. “The friend who’ll keep me safe from you isn’t walking on two legs.”
“Oh, you have a guard dog? I’m scared.” He faked a shudder.
“You should be.” Charli’s voice was low, her smile menacing. “Because I believe in the Second Amendment, and if you come near me again my guard dog—” she looked loathingly up and down Cedric’s five-nine frame “—will have no problem relieving you of your family jewels. I’m sure they’re so small that shooting them may be difficult. But I’m a pretty good aim.”
With that, Charli calmly walked away.
Two pairs of eyes followed her over to the table, where she joined the woman who Warren had learned from his mother was named Alice Witherspoon.
Niko looked at his brother. “Looks like your neighbor might be in trouble.”
Warren took a sip of his drink, watching as Cedric exited the building. “I’m not worried about Charli. I think she can hold her own.”
Chapter 9
As it was harvesting season for their first yield of grapes, the week following the town of Paradise Cove’s celebration went by in a blur. Warren had his hands full, his attention going from the crash course on grapes he was getting from his cousin Dexter Drake to checking the progress on his dream home that Jackson was building. There weren’t enough hours in the day. He was exhausted, and at times had to remind himself that this was a madness he’d created.
“Hey, cuz.” Warren walked up to his cousin Dexter, who was standing in one of the vineyard rows, talking to the manager.
Dexter turned to him. “Perfect timing, Warren. I was just suggesting to Eduardo that since all of the table grapes have been gathered these grapes, the chenin blancs, should be harvested next.”
“Whatever you say, Dexter. I’m here to follow your lead and learn all that
