breaking a piece of crusty bread and holding it out to her.
She shook her head, not quite finished with the calamata. “I’d like to run my own business.”
He took a bite of the bread and brushed away the snowfall of flaky crumbs that fluttered on the blanket. “What kind?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m very good with numbers and accounting,” she looked at him and grinned. “How dull is that?”
“Nothing about you is dull, Paige.” The comment won him a sweet flush on her cheeks and a glint of disbelief in her eyes.
“What’s really important to me,” she continued, dropping her gaze back to the basket between them, “is that I’m on my own. Without the guidance of big brothers and big sisters and big cousins.”
He laughed softly. “Walker is one big cousin to deal with.”
“He means well,” she said defensively. “He feels he owes my father a huge debt of gratitude for taking him and his sister, Charlotte, into our home and raising them as a seamless part of our family.”
“And that means he watches over you.” Like a hawk, no doubt. A sliver of guilt wrapped around his gut for a moment. Maybe he shouldn’t seduce her. Maybe he should…wait.
His body rebelled at the thought.
“I expect and appreciate his watchfulness, don’t get me wrong.” She wiped her hand on a linen napkin and dabbed the corners of her mouth. “And Megan’s, and Trace’s. And I love the family business, but it would be nice to do something away from the Ashtons. To be my own woman.”
“And a fine woman she is,” he said slowly, moving the basket that separated them.
Her eyes flashed in warning. “You’re flirting again.”
“Can’t resist,” he admitted. “You bring out the flirt in me.”
She shook her head slowly. “I don’t bring out the flirt in anyone.”
“Where do you get this misinformed opinion of yourself?” he asked, surprised by her statement. “Don’t you have any idea how attractive you are?”
“I’m not ugly,” she agreed, but not wholeheartedly. “I’m just not one of those uninhibited, brash, bouncy women who enter duels of witty banter with men.”
“I like that,” he admitted, reaching over to touch the smooth skin of her hand. “I like you.” Her eyes looked doubtful again. “You don’t believe me.”
“I want to believe you. I’m just a little…intimidated by you.” She gestured around the secluded grove. “By this.”
“An Ashton? Intimidated?” He threaded his fingers through hers. “I don’t buy it for a minute.”
She eased herself closer to him. Yes, this was going to be easy. And fun. He leaned toward her, close enough to feel the electrical charges singing in the air between them.
Unwinding his fingers from hers, he trailed a path up her arm, toward the soft flesh of her neck and throat. When he lightly touched the skin just under her ear, her eyelids fluttered. He grazed along the edge of her delicate jaw, then traced the outline of her lips.
He felt her breath catch.
“You like that,” he whispered.
She almost nodded, opening her eyes enough to capture his gaze. “I like you.” The echo of his own admission was difficult for her, he could tell.
“You’re such a flirt, Paige Ashton.”
She started to laugh at that, but he leaned over and covered her mouth with his. As their lips met, her laugh stuttered into a moan that caught in her throat. As she opened to him, he tasted the delicious, tangy flavor of Greek olives on her tongue.
He tunneled his hand into her hair, holding her head with a strong, confident grip. She kissed him back, meeting his mouth with matching passion.
Easing her on to her back, he moved over her, so that they finally touched. Against the concave of her stomach, his arousal was impossible to hide. She sucked in a quick breath, her kiss halted momentarily.
“Just so you know,” he whispered against her mouth. “I like you more.”
She responded by resuming the kiss and lifting herself toward him, a move that sent every drop of blood in his body rushing to one place. He wanted her. His body hurt with swollen desire as he stroked her back, aching to glide his hand around and touch the delicate rise of her breast, itching to grasp her round rear end and bury himself between her legs.
Drawing a deep breath, he forced himself to do none of those things. “I think we’re done here,” he said softly.
She lifted her chin and gave him a stunned, hurt look. “We are?”
“Here,” he explained. “In the olive grove. Let’s go up to my suite.”
Her eyes widened, and she tucked the corner of her lip between her teeth as the decision colored her expression. He swallowed every word of persuasion he knew. This was her choice.
“Okay.”
Even to Paige, her simple word sounded raspy, aroused. As it should. She felt raspy and aroused. Her whole being sparked in anticipation, longing for more hot kisses, dying for his hands to engulf her entire body.
“Okay,” he repeated, sounding a teensy bit surprised and a lot delighted. Didn’t he think she wanted to go to his room?
Did he want her to say no?
She crushed the thought, hating her insecurities when everything about him had demonstrated just the opposite.
This wasn’t a tough decision. Matt Camberlane was sexy, gorgeous, smart, and he wanted her. Her gaze dropped to the very obvious tent in his khaki pants, the sight of it both flattering and intoxicating.
As he folded up the blanket in one quick move and scooped up the remnants of their picnic, she made a feeble attempt to help, but he was much faster.
“I got it, sweetheart,” he said, reaching for her hand to help her up. “Let’s go.”
Nice to know they were both in a hurry. That this electrifying, crazy, lusty attraction was mutual. The thought sent a little shiver through her, and he pulled her under his arm, holding the blanket and basket easily in his other hand. Instantly she felt safe. Safe and warm and protected by the power that was Matt.
In silence they climbed the stone stairs out of the grove. She barely glanced at the panorama of Rutherford Hills’ rolling vineyards around them, didn’t even notice the sun-and earth-toned cottages that made up the outer buildings of the luxury hotel and spa.
Together, they slipped into a side door, dropped the basket and blanket with the concierge, and headed up a set of back stairs. He must be staying in one of the luxurious upper suites, she thought. She’d been in one when friends from Los Angeles had stayed at the famous inn. The suites were huge. Would they even make it through the spacious
