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“You are beautiful,” he said, kissing her belly button, his breath and tongue tantalizingly close to the apex of her thighs. “So beautiful.” Lowering himself, he pulled on her panties with his teeth, deftly removing them before inching back up her legs with his mouth.
Her throat was as dry as a desert, her blood on fire. She arched as he discovered her most intimate recesses and caught her buttocks in his hands.
“Jay, oh, Jay,” she moaned, her eyes closed, her body glistening with perspiration.
Somehow he kicked off his jeans and parted her legs with his knees. “Stop me now,” he said through gritted teeth, and she shook her head.
“Don’t ever stop.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said, but lost control. Arms surrounding her, he thrust deep, fusing his body with hers only to retract and push forward again. Tiffany moved with him, her body catching his rhythm, her mind closed to all thoughts but the powerful pulsing need that he alone could fill.
She dug her fingers into the muscles of his upper arms, pressed her heels into his calves. Hot desire swirled through her. Her breath was suddenly far too shallow, her lungs too tight. The world tilted on its axis, and somewhere in the heavens a star burst into a billion sparks of light.
He cried out with a sound as primitive as the night, and Tiffany lost herself, body and soul, in J.D. Santini—the one man who had no right to her heart.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“So who’s the new renter?” Katie asked as she dunked a French fry in her tiny cup of catsup and bit off the end. The three half sisters were seated at an outside table in the garden of the restaurant, a large umbrella offering shade from the summer heat, flower boxes spilling blooms in profusion.
“You don’t miss much, do you?” Tiffany asked, not entirely comfortable with Bliss and Katie, who seemed to have hit it off already.
“I’m a reporter, remember?” Katie grinned and dabbed at her lips. Perspiration dotted her smooth forehead.
“His name is Luke Gates. He’s from a small town in west Texas. Other than that, I don’t know much about him. He pretty much keeps to himself.”
Katie wrinkled her nose as if she smelled a story. “I wonder what he’s doing here?”
“You’re always looking for a mystery,” Bliss said.
“Not a mystery. A scoop. There’s a difference.” She took a sip of iced tea and settled back in her chair. The umbrella wasn’t big enough to shade the entire table, and Katie had to squint a bit, even though she was wearing wire-rimmed sunglasses. “I’d really like to crack the Isaac Wells case, let me tell you. Now, there’s a mystery and a scoop.”
Tiffany froze. The topic was too sensitive.
Bliss cleared her throat “I wish it were over, too.”
Katie thought aloud. “The old man,
for no apparent reason, just up and vanishes. Some people, including the police, think he might have met with foul play. They have suspects, but they’re reaching for straws. I’ve been trying to come up with a reason why anyone would do the old guy in. He wasn’t very friendly and made his share of enemies, but none who would want to kill or kidnap him. And if he was kidnapped, why no contract or ransom demands? Gosh, I don’t get it.”
“No one does,” Tiffany said and picked up her glass of cola. Beads of sweat slid down the outside of the glass, and she swirled the melting ice cubes. She thought of her son and knew in her heart that he wasn’t involved. He was only thirteen, for crying out loud, and yet she was worried. Worried sick.
“So, Tiffany,” Katie said, holding one hand over her glasses to shade her eyes, “what’s the deal with you and J.D.?”
Tiffany was taking a sip from her drink and nearly choked. “What deal?”
“You tell me. I saw you at the wedding reception, dancing with him. The man’s in love with you.”
“Love?” Tiffany shook her head despite the soaring of her heart. If only she could believe that J.D. really cared. “He’s just here on business.”
Bliss and Katie shared a knowing look. “Right.”
“It’s true. He’s buying a farm for his father’s new vineyard and winery.”
“I know all about the Zalinski farm being sold,” Katie said. “And I’ve heard the rumors about the Santini Brothers Winery expanding to southern Oregon, but that doesn’t explain why the guy couldn’t keep his hands off you last Sunday.”
Tiffany felt heat steal up the back of her neck. She remembered all too vividly J.D.’s lovemaking, but she didn’t want to attach any emotions to it. Not yet. “J.D. and I are—”
“Don’t say it.” Katie shook her head. “If you tell me you’re just good friends, I think I’ll scream.”
