“I don’t have the time to manage the project right now,” she said. “I work all week at Story Imports. I’m only here on the weekends, I spend all of my time with the grapes, and—”
“Then I’ll manage it. I’ll take care of it. I’ll do everything the way you want, but without any of the burden on your shoulders or bank account. I’ll find the architect and contractor. I’ll pay the workers and arrange for the permits. I’ll manage the whole job. If you like it, you can pay me back. If not, you can knock it down and start over in January, and I won’t ask for a dime.”
She leaned back, looking up into his eyes. “Why would you do that?”
There was simply no way he could offer her anything but honesty. “Because I love my sister, and I made her a promise.”
She searched his face, her wide, brown librarian eyes studying him from behind her glasses—so serious, so grave in their scrutiny, like she couldn’t believe he’d make such an offer, like maybe she wanted to believe it, however remarkable.
“Are you hotheaded,” she asked, “or just impulsive?”
“Say yes,” he whispered, ignoring her question.
“Yes,” she said, softly, thoughtfully, almost like the single word was an extension of the thoughts in her head.
Cameron’s jaw dropped. “Wait—what?”
“Yes,” she said again, chuckling softly. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but okay. I give you permission to renovate the winery for Jessica’s wedding.”
He felt his mouth widen into a delighted smile at the same time his arms released her so that his hands could cup her cheeks. “Really?”
She grinned at him. “Mm-hm. You can renovate it. I get final approval on all plans, though, and I’ll pay you back in January.”
He laughed softly, a long-buried joy bursting to the surface of his consciousness like sunlight and bathing him in hope. “You’re sure? You’re positive?”
His angel in librarian’s clothes nodded.
And Cameron didn’t think. He should have thought. He should have fucking thought long and hard before doing what he was about to do.
But he didn’t think.
He kissed her instead.
Closing his eyes as he leaned down, he pressed his lips to hers, her short, surprised gasp stealing the breath from his mouth as she instinctively arched her back into him, pressing her breasts against his chest as he deepened the kiss.
She tasted sweet, like grapes, and her mouth, welcoming his, was sweet-hot and wet as he explored her with his tongue, groaning as the glossy slickness of hers slid against the hard length of his. He spread his legs and pulled her closer, pushing his growing erection into her belly, his heart pumping faster as she moaned softly, razing his tongue with her teeth and reaching up to cup his face with her hands.
“Meggie,” he panted, nuzzling her nose with his. He ran his hands down her back until he clasped them together, holding her body flush against his. “What are we doing?”
“You’re kissing me,” she sighed, her eyes closed, her face upturned, her breath soft and hot against his lips.
His chest pushed into hers with every labored breath, and he was dying to kiss her again, but common sense managed to wiggle its way into his consciousness. He pulled her closer, resting his lips on top of her head.
“I shouldn’t have,” he whispered into her hair. “I can’t . . . I mean, I can barely keep my business afloat, and now I’ve taken on this project for Jess, and I can’t . . . I mean, I can’t add something else to the pile.”
Something else. To the pile.
He flinched, clenching his eyes shut as she stiffened in his arms.
What the actual fuck had he just said to her?
“Impulsive,” she said, answering her own question as she backed away from him, forcing him to loosen his arms around her.
The fuck he was. He’d wanted to kiss her for twenty years. It was just about the most premeditated move he’d ever made on a woman.
“Meggie . . .”
“I don’t need more complications in my life right now either.” She put her hands on her hips and looked up at him, squarely, unflinchingly, only her eyes betraying her hurt feelings. “Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen, okay?”
Cameron didn’t want to pretend it didn’t happen. He wanted to freeze time. He wanted to sort out the mess that was C & C Winslow, renovate The Five Sisters’ winery and tasting room, get Jess happily married, and then press Play and find himself still standing here in Margaret’s vineyard, holding her in his arms, bending his neck to kiss her once again. He’d kiss her all afternoon and all night long, and maybe even for the rest of his life.
Pretend it didn’t happen? He might as well pretend the moon didn’t brighten the night sky . . . that the tide didn’t steal the sand . . . that the woman standing before him wasn’t the woman of his dreams.
He nodded. “Fine.”
Chapter 7