the crowd parted for her and she walked to the front of the room. When she reached him, he pulled her close, placing a brotherly arm around her shoulders, but his eyes were full of the devil.
“Nico, please—” she whispered but he turned back to the crowd, some of whom were discreetly wiping away tears at the beauty and the heartbreak of the scene before them.
“The depths of emotion that Kent’s dear wife and I share right now can’t be put into words.” His hand moved from her shoulder to her neck, a kind, comforting move … except for the thumb that moved in sensual circles at the nape of her neck, hidden from the crowd, but sending shivers across her skin.
“Kent’s death was a shock for all his friends and family. And for those of us left behind, for my father, Mark, Beth and me—” he turned and looked into her eyes as he spoke “—all I can say is that at a time like this, at least we have each other.” He pulled her into a hug and the audience clapped their approval.
The embrace launched a flood of sensation in her body—her skin heated, her muscles quivered. This was so very different from the tender way he’d held her this morning—it was …more. More fervent. More intimate. More bone-melting.
And, it was lasting too long. An entire audience watched this embrace. She tried to discreetly push him away but he wouldn’t budge.
“Nico, stop it,” she said in his ear.
“But, my Beth, I’m enjoying it immensely,” he murmured. “Why would I stop?”
But he released her and, still grasping her hand, led her away to another sympathetic round of applause from their well-wishers.
As soon as they’d cleared the main crowd, she whirled on him. “How could you?” she whispered fiercely.
“How could I what?” he said, low, as he nodded to a man across the room. “The winery wanted a touching scene and I gave them one. It’ll be good PR for Trio.”
“You know what I’m talking about.” She narrowed her eyes. “I hope you’re satisfied with the show you put on.”
One corner of his sensual mouth kicked up into a grin. “Actually, I’m not satisfied. Yet.” He dug his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, all cool unconcern. “I’ve had enough of the business talk and the homage to my half brother. One drink and we’re leaving.”
Leaving? They’d barely been here half an hour. She kicked up her chin a fraction and stood still. “I can’t leave. This is to honor my husband. People are mourning here. I should be seen to be mourning.”
Nico stopped beside her, his eyes narrowed, seeing more than she wanted him to. “But you’re not, are you, Beth?” He smiled, smug at his realization. “There are no secrets between you and me—you had no love for him, never did.”
She looked around. Too many people would be eager to hear this and make something of it. “Not here, Nico.”
“Not here? You think this is going too far?” He moved closer, his eyes on her face. “Oh, bella, I could do much worse than this.”
Her body yearned to move that last few inches and lean into him, ached to be held. But it couldn’t happen, especially not here. “You said your speech would help the PR for Trio. If you create a scene, it’ll undermine that.”
He shrugged one shoulder, a casual, dismissive gesture. “You misunderstand the nature of publicity. If I hadn’t said anything up there, it would have been disappointing for the guests. People hate disappointment. But you and I creating a scene …” His voice was low, beguiling. “The kind that’s quiet, unobtrusive, but watched by every person in the room. Our guests would find that delicious and Trio would quickly become infamous.”
This was about making Jordan Wines’ guests happy? No, the predator in his eyes was too marked to miss. This was all about the two of them. About the simmering chemistry that was still between them despite how she fought it. She swallowed hard and took a small step back. “They won’t have anything to watch if I walk away.”
His hands snaked out and captured one of hers, holding it platonically between them, a concerned brother-in-law comforting the bereaved. But the heat of his palms made her skin sizzle, and sparks danced up her arm before heading to her core.
And he knew, damn him. The corner of his lips curved ever so slightly, relishing his victory. Though she was pleased to see he wasn’t unaffected himself—the pulse at the base of his throat beat strongly.
He began a discreet sensual massage of her palm, her fingertips. “All I’d have to do is reach over and run one finger down your cheek, and I could have you in my arms. You still react to me, I saw that today.”
Beth shivered. She couldn’t let that happen. She disengaged her hand and took another small step back. “This night should be as sacred as a wake.”
He glanced around the room. “I’m not sure if anyone here is mourning Kent—his nasty streak wasn’t saved just for me. It ensured he never earned much respect or popularity.”
“Be that as it may, this is still wrong.” She turned and walked across the room needing as much distance from Nico as she could get. Because he’d hit the nail on the head—she still reacted to him. And that was a luxury she couldn’t afford when she needed to hold secrets close to her chest for everyone’s sakes.
As she took a proffered glass of wine from a waiter, Noela appeared at her side. “I wanted to check if you’re all right.”
Beth plastered a smile on her face. “I’m fine, thank you.”
Noela leaned in, concern in her features. “You seemed very affected on the stage. I hope we haven’t pushed you beyond endurance.”
Beth held back a grimace and looked over at the back of Nico’s head as he charmed a group of staff on the other side of the room. Noela and the winery weren’t the ones pushing her limits tonight. That distinction went to the man whose broad shoulders looked like pure sin in his tuxedo. “I really am okay,” she assured Noela.
After Noela left, she was quickly replaced by a stream of people offering their condolences and marveling at her strength in attending tonight. After twenty minutes, Beth was suffocating. She excused herself and walked out to the terrace, sipped her wine and looked over the moonlit vineyard. Below the distant twinkling lights of the town were rows and rows of bare vines. There was something comforting about the order of it, the neatness and … rhythm. She took a deep breath of the brisk night air and leaned the cool glass against her flushed forehead, glad for the respite from people, noise and the expectation of conversation.
“It’s a striking view.” The voice from the shadows was low and smooth and achingly familiar.
Beth wrenched around. At the end of the balcony, obscured by the dark, was a faint shape. If she hadn’t heard the voice, she wouldn’t have known for sure if someone was there.
But there was.
Nico.
Her heart tripped over itself as she nonchalantly leaned a hip on the stone balustrade that edged the terrace, facing him. “You’ve spent your whole life around vineyards and wineries. I’m amazed you still see past the hard work to the beauty.”
“There’s
