“I’m glad you like it.”
“I don’t recognize the label.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to.”
She arched a brow. “That’s somewhat cryptic.”
“Mmm.” He sipped his own drink then leaned closer, so his knees were trapping hers beneath the table, one on either side of her legs, his larger, broader frame closing over the table to bring them nearer.
“Are you trying to be evasive?” The words emerged strangled, her throat thick, her breath burning in her throat.
“Absolutely. Are you fascinated?”
She laughed softly, for some reason not wanting to admit that, yes, she was. “Not at all. It doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“Fair enough.” His grin was self-deprecating, showing that she’d won that round. But not for long. As if to regain the upper ground, he lifted the hand he held, moving it towards his lips, his eyes teasing hers, warning her, as he pressed his mouth to the back of her hand and held it there.
She sucked in a shaky breath, before he flipped her hand over, tracing a finger over the pulse point at the base of her wrist, then dropped his mouth and kissing her gently. She pressed her teeth into her lower lip. Desire was flaming through her.
“The wine,” he said against her skin, his warm breath flushing her arm, then kissing her again. “Is from my own estate.” He moved his mouth to the pad at the base of her thumb, his eyes not leaving her face as he kissed her there, his teeth nipping the flesh gently, so her own eyes fluttered closed in an instinctive reaction to the assault on her senses.
“Somewhere other than the winery I was just at?”
He made a soft noise of assent. “A property in Bordeaux.”
“That’s to the west, isn’t it?”
“Very good.” His voice was low and sensual.
“What do you—how long have you owned it for?” She asked, changing tack. She desperately wanted to keep their conversation moving, but it was impossible to think straight while he kissed and lightly touched her hand. Her hand, for God’s sake! It wasn’t like he was kneeling down under the table and kissing her anywhere more intimate, yet she was losing her mind to him nonetheless.
“I bought it ten years ago.”
“Why?”
“You’re full of questions.”
Beneath the table, he moved his legs, and she startled. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, damn him.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Yes.”
Her lips pulled to one side. “Making fun of me?”
Something slashed across his handsome face. “No. This.” He dropped his mouth to her wrist and kissed her again, slower this time, as though savouring the moment. “I didn’t expect to find being your fake fiancé so much fun.”
Her smile was all bravado. She felt the ground slipping beneath her feet and wondered again if this was a terrible mistake. If she was already losing her head to him, how the heck would she cope for the next three months?
“Well, don’t forget, it’s just for show,” she said firmly, grateful her voice emerged with more than a hint of iron will.
He lifted a brow, his smile mocking her statement anyway.
“Tell me about your grapes,” she pleaded, needing some breathing room for the desire he was invoking so, so easily.
Perhaps he sensed her panic, because he lowered her hand, relenting further by sitting back in the seat. “The winery is small. I don’t produce anything on a commercial scale. It’s no surprise you haven’t heard of it.”
“They stock it here, though.”