The Marriage Arrangement

"Then it's your project. Just let me know how I can help."

  Satisfaction rushed through her. Rip trusted her. The past two weeks had shown he valued her opinion and wasn't just trying to humor her when she brought up new ideas. For the first time, she felt like Winsor Winery truly belonged to her. It was a precious gift.

  And this man had given it to her.

  "Thank you." They stared at one another. Awareness surged between them. "What are you doing?" she finally asked.

  "Taste testing. You came at a perfect time." He lifted the glass, swirling it around. "I need you to try this competitor's wine and tell me what you think."

  She cocked her head, studying the intense frown on his face. Her hands itched to smooth the crease away, run her fingers down his stubbled cheek, trace the sulky curve of those lips. She swallowed, smothering the hot bolt of sensual attraction that tugged at her belly and softened her sex. "Sure."

  His voice dropped. "Come here."

  She closed the distance between them on shaky legs, reaching out for the glass he'd been swirling in contemplation, already making note of the splash of the legs against the sides. He took her by surprise by lifting the glass and pressing the rim to her lips. "Close your eyes," he demanded softly, and automatically, she obeyed. "Smell."

  She took a deep breath. Blackberry. A hint of currant. A touch of orange.

  "Now, drink."

  He tilted the glass and she drank. She held the cool liquid in her mouth for a moment, allowing the flavors to warm, letting her Winsor palate take over. Her blood heated as the florals took hold and tried to take her on that glorious slide of pleasure, but it was suddenly over and everything went flat.

  Her eyes flew open.

  "What do you think?"

  His eyes were so dark, seething with a passion that stole her breath. He looked at her like that every day, his gaze hungrily roving over her, but it was the tenderness that always shook her to the core. The gentle touch of his fingers when he pushed her hair from her cheek, or the intimate smile when he caught her gaze across a room, or even when she'd stumbled in those Gucci heels and he'd carried her back to the house, insisting she change her shoes so she wouldn't get hurt. He was overprotective and domineering, yet kind.

  "Caterina? What do you think?"

  She blinked, trying to surface. "It's good."

  His lips tugged slightly upward. "Anything else?"

  "The blend is full-bodied and complex. But the flavors are short-lived. It needs..." She broke off, struggling to put her thoughts into words.

  Rip bent closer. His lips hovered inches from hers. "More?"

  An explosion of heat rocked through her. A whirling array of images flickered in her vision. Images of his hands over her skin, whispering demands in her ear, thrusting into her body as he commanded she give him more...

  "More what, Caterina?" he asked. His hand traced the line of her jaw, down to her beating pulse, over her shoulder, across the swell of her breasts. Her heartbeat thundered at the light strokes of those talented fingers. Her nipples hardened and pushed against her blouse in a demand to be freed. "Tell me what you think it needs."

  Her voice was ripped from her throat. "More passion." She trembled, caught on the precipice of backing up and moving closer. "More richness." Her tongue slid along her bottom lip to catch the last ruby drop of liquid. An animal groan escaped his chest. "More heat."

  The silence pulsed with unspoken demands. Slowly, he placed the glass down. She caught the tremble in his hand and knew he was just as affected, the crackling sexual tension ready to ignite between them. He cleared his throat. "Very good. Now, I want you to taste one of ours. It's a new blend I've been working on." He handed her a bottle of water and she drank to cleanse her palate. Then he took the other bottle of wine and poured a new glass, duplicating his motions. She noticed the legs were stronger on this one, the rhythmic swirl of the liquid almost hypnotizing. "Close your eyes."

  She obeyed.

  "Smell."

  The aroma rose to her nostrils. Like the first, she scented berries and currant, but there was an undercurrent of smokiness--mixed with a hint of dark chocolate. The complexity was heaven to her nose.

  "Now, taste."

  The rim was pressed to her lips and she opened her senses. The ruby liquid slid over her tongue and burst into bright florals of deep berries. This time, the flavors softened as she held it in her mouth, and the smooth smokiness lingered, stretching out into various notes as she swallowed. The tannins were rich without a bitter aftertaste, and she immediately craved another taste, her brain scrambling to make sense of the beautiful tones.

  She opened her eyes. His gaze burned and ate her alive, and without thought, she lifted her arms to grip his shoulders. "The aroma seduced me."

  "And? Tell me more."

  She shuddered at his raw, almost carnal demand. "This time, the flavors lingered. It started off bright and fresh, then turned darker and more intense."

  Her nails bit into hard muscle. A groan ripped from his lips. "Did my blend give you more? Did it give you what you crave from a wine?"

  She tipped her head back with an open invitation. Intense hunger exploded in her belly, traveling like wildfire through her body, heating up her blood. "It was real," she whispered. "The first promised but didn't deliver."

  His palms rested on each side of her head as his mouth descended. His breath rushed warmly over her lips. "You're right. Our competitor held back. When the winemaker is afraid of being overwhelmed by raw form, the product will be flat. On the surface the wine will look normal, but the trick will be discovered the moment someone tastes it. The emotions may have been avoided, but the product will be lifeless." His voice shook with promise. "I would never make such a mistake."

  His mouth stamped over hers.

  He kissed her with all the pent-up passion that had been building over the last two weeks, thrusting his tongue deep inside and gathering her taste. She clutched at his shoulders and matched every demand with her own, her nails sinking deep into his muscles, opening her mouth wider for him.

  He pulled her tight against him, his hands cupping her ass and lifting her onto his lap. Her legs wrapped around his hips, his erection notched between her thighs as he kept kissing her, deep and hard, his tongue claiming her with every fierce stroke. "I've missed you so damn much," he muttered, nipping at her bottom lip, then soothing with his tongue.

  "I've missed you, too," she admitted, arching back with invitation, desperate to touch and taste every part of him. He pressed kisses down her neck, biting the sensitive flesh, and she slid her hands under his shirt to stroke his hair-roughened chest, reveling in each hard muscle that jumped under her touch.

  He muttered something under his breath--either a curse or a prayer--and rocked her against his erection. She squeezed her thighs tight and buried her face in his neck as every muscle in her body tightened with the aching need for release. His hands stroked her back, cupped her breast, tweaked the hard nipple, lighting every part of her on fire, until an itchy, empty hunger burned.

  "Need more," she gasped, her hips rolling with her own demand. "Please."

  He growled her name, kissing her deeply, and worked his hand down the front of her jeans, his fingers just touching the lacy edge of her underwear. "My God, you're on fire for me. So sweet, so perfect. I have to touch you."

  "Yes, touch me, Rip--"

  "Caterina? Ripley? Are you down here?"

  She froze at the sound of her father's voice. Rip cursed, his hand shaking as he withdrew and quickly slid her off his lap, righting her. With adept, gentle fingers, he fixed her tousled clothing, then gave her a burning look. "Your father has terrible timing," he said, frustration nipping at his voice. "Stand in front of me."

  She dragged in a shaky breath and tried not to sway on her feet. "And if I move?"

  "Your father's going to get a big surprise."

  A giggle escaped her lips. His face softened, amusement curving his lips, and she raised her voice. "Pap
a, we're in here."

  "Oh, sorry to interrupt. Are you tasting the new Merlot you blended, Rip?"

  "That's right. I was getting Caterina's opinion."

  Her father glanced at both of them, his blue eyes lighting up with a joyous satisfaction. "Good, very good. I just wanted to tell you both I'll be gone for the weekend. My friend Daniel invited me to stay with him at his vineyard in Long Island. He knows I'll be leaving for Florida soon, so I wanted to make the trip while I'm still here."

  "That sounds like fun," she said, smiling. "Tell him I said hello and hopefully we can have him over for a visit."

  "Sounds good. Now I'll leave you alone to finish your wine tasting."

  Cat glanced over. The banked promise of finishing what they started gleamed in Rip's inky eyes, and suddenly she panicked, needing the space. It had only been two weeks and already her emotions ran deep. Each encounter she spent with her prospective husband solidified their connection and pushed her closer to admitting she was falling in love with him all over again. If she took him into her bed, she'd have no place left to hide.

  She had to be completely sure.

  "I'll go with you, Papa," she said, quickly joining his side. Rip frowned, but didn't call her back. "I have some things to finish up. I'll see you later, Rip."

  She turned, but his gravelly voice rose in the air with an intimate promise.

  "Presto, Caterina."

  She shivered, her mind flicking to the image of one perfect red rose, then Rip's determined face.

  She didn't look back as she raced up the stairs with her father safely beside her.

  She was still running from him.

  Rip uttered a curse and paced in the darkness of his bedroom. A few nights ago, he'd sensed her opening up to him in the cellars, and when he'd kissed her, she'd practically burned up in his arms. He knew if he'd pushed, he'd be sinking between her thighs and buried in her sweet, hot heat. He dreamed of the tiny cries she made at the back of her throat when he kissed her, and the way her hands trembled when she touched him, almost reverently, making him feel like a god. He craved her like his next breath. She was slowly driving him insane.

  But he'd sworn to give her time. He never thought he'd want anything as bad as Winsor Winery--the ultimate symbol of achievement and success in a world that had mocked him.

  Until Caterina Winsor.

  He realized he wanted her more.

  Rip glanced at the clock. Almost midnight. She wasn't coming to him tonight.

  Slowly, he walked over to the adjoining door and pressed his palm against the wood. Struggled with the need to push it open and seduce her into admitting she loved him. Each day, he watched her soften and open up more. Each day, he hoped she would look in his eyes and realize the truth of his feelings.

  But it had to be on her terms.

  Then he could finally claim her forever.

  He dropped his hand from the door.

  And made his way back to his lonely bed.

  Chapter Twelve

  Caterina lay in her bed and stared up at the ceiling.

  Midnight.

  She couldn't stop thinking about him. Since their kiss in the cellar, she'd realized Rip Savage was the type of man she'd been looking for her whole life. When she opened herself up in Italy and discovered his betrayal, it had been easy to hide behind newly built walls. Falling in love was scary as hell, and her past had not been a success story.

  But now that she was back at Winsor, she knew things had changed. By being forced to start over, they'd strengthened the foundation of their relationship. Every day, he proved his true feelings for her. She woke up every morning excited to see him. She loved talking with him, working with him, and most of all, she saw clearly the man her father had taken in like family.

  He'd been right. Rip was a man who had the potential to love passionately and had transformed the winery by pouring in his very heart and soul. It was more than a business to him--it was his livelihood. His creative vision.

  His home.

  Cat sat up in bed. For the past few nights, she'd allowed herself the space and time to come to terms with the overwhelming truth.

  She loved Rip Savage and wanted to marry him.

  It was time to finally show him.

  She got up from bed, shivering as her bare feet hit the cold floor, and walked over to the adjoining door. Her hand settled on the knob and her heart pounded madly in her chest. Would it be locked? Would he be asleep? Would she have the courage to give him everything she'd been holding back?

  Cat dragged in a deep breath and turned the knob.

  The door swung open.

  "I've been waiting for you."

  The gravelly, seductive voice drifted in the air, making her freeze. Her gaze searched the darkness, finally settling on the shadowy figure sitting on the edge of the bed. The hum of sexual energy crackled in the silence. Anticipation flowed through her veins. She moved closer. "I needed to be sure."

  He straightened to his full height. His sweat pants hung low on his hips. His chest and feet were bare. Coal-black hair curled around his ears and brushed his neck, the thick strands tousled as if he'd been trying to sleep. The scent of musk and man drifted to her nostrils. His gaze seethed with emotion as he slowly closed the distance between them, stopping right in front of her. "And now? Are you sure?"

  Her breath shuddered from her lips. She lifted her hands and placed them on his shoulders. "Yes."

  His mouth descended. His lips brushed hers with the lightest of strokes, his tongue gliding along the edges of her mouth in a teasing caress. She rose on tiptoes to get closer, to get more, but he resisted, nibbling on her bottom lip as his tongue slid between her lips for just a taste, then drew back.

  "I need the words," he commanded, his hands pulling through her hair, rubbing the strands between his fingers. "I need you to be mine, because without you, this winery means nothing to me anymore. I want you. Want you in my bed, in my life. Want you for my wife. Want you forever. Do you understand?"

  Her skin burned. She shook with pure need, her eyes stinging with emotion, and clasped her hands behind his head, arching up. "I want you, too," she breathed out against his damp lips. "I want you to be mine. I want to run the winery with you, and be your lover, and your friend. I want you to be my husband, for us to be a family. Do you understand, Rip Savage? Right now, it's about you and me--nothing else."

  His mouth took hers, his tongue plunging deep, claiming her with possessive strokes as he drank, the raw hunger beckoning to her like a primitive mating call. The rough scratch of his stubble rubbed against her cheeks, and she thrust all ten fingers into his midnight hair, holding him with her own demand as she met and matched every stroke of his tongue with her own.

  He dragged his mouth from hers and stared into her eyes with a stirring tenderness. Then he bent over and swept her into his arms, carrying her to the bed and laying her on the quilt. Never taking his gaze from her face, he stripped off his sweats and joined her. With quick movements, he pulled the black slip down over her shoulders, releasing her naked breasts, dragging the silky material over her belly, her hips, her legs, then tossing it to the floor. He lay against her, hard muscles pressed against her soft curves. One thigh tangled with hers, holding her open for his touch.

  Then he proceeded to fulfill the glittering promise in his eyes as he used his mouth and hands and tongue to push her to the limit of ecstasy. Her breasts were treated to the loving touch of his fingers as he tugged at her nipples and soothed with his tongue. He stroked the flesh of her stomach, her thighs, explored the dip of her belly button and the sensitive crease where hip met thigh.

  She was just as greedy to touch him. She tested his hard muscles with her nails, tangling her fingers in the thicket of hair that covered olive-toned skin. She traced the lean strength of his thighs, moving inward, cupping and squeezing his pulsing shaft with loving strokes that made him suck in his breath and jerk his hips. With a growl, he shifted lower, pushing open her thighs, and
then she felt his warm breath on her sensitive core. Every muscle tightened with anticipation, her breath coming in ragged gasps, and then his tongue licked her slow and sweet, and she arched into the pillow, begging for more.

  He gave it to her. He rubbed her clit with a feather light touch as his tongue explored, pushing her closer to the edge. Curling two fingers, he thrust into her over and over, until he found the spot that made everything inside clench and shiver. His tongue licked her clit and he hit the magic spot and then she was coming hard, his name falling from her lips.

  Kissing her gently through the aftershocks, he fit himself with a condom. Then rose up above her and interlaced his fingers with hers. Her dazed gaze met his and his lips tugged in a sensual smile that promised her everything.

  "Again."

  He surged inside her with one strong, perfect thrust. She gasped at the stretching, tight sensation, her body quivering and clenching down. His fingers squeezing hers, his gaze pinned on her face, he took her on a wild ride where her body met and matched each thrust he demanded. The tension escalated slowly as Rip contrasted long deep strokes with slow, teasing motions, until she was mad for him. The pace increased to a demanding, frantic tempo until she hurled over the edge, screaming from the shattering release. He called out her name as he shuddered and came, his body jerking, hands still holding hers.

  They drifted down together in a pile of tangled limbs and sweat-dampened skin.

  A long while later, he whispered the words in her ear.

  "I love you, Caterina Victoria Winsor."

  She smiled in the darkness and stroked his cheek. "And I love you, Ripley Savage."

  She closed her eyes with a contented sigh and slept.

  Chapter Thirteen

  One week later, her father's voice echoed up the stairs. "Delivery for you, sweetheart."

  She made her way down, smiling back at him as he placed the vase down on the table. Two dozen red roses gleamed in the sunlight, the ruby soft petals opened in full bloom. She lowered her nose to the bouquet and drew in a deep breath. The sweet scent reminded her of everything she'd once longed for and finally had.

  "Going to read the card?" he asked teasingly.

  She plucked the small cream envelope from the holder, already knowing what it said.