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Seconds passed. “Why?”
“So I don’t have to slow down and think about . . .” Who I am now. Without Rebecca. Which version of myself is the real one. “Which style of necklace to wear,” she said on a laughing exhale, gesturing to the eclectic collection around her neck. There was no chance he was buying the way she made light of their discussion, but thankfully, he just studied her in that quiet, discerning way, instead of prodding her to elaborate. She couldn’t even if she wanted to. Not with these troubling revelations still so fresh in her head. “I guess we better finish up,” she muttered. “I have a few other appointments today that I’m considering keeping.”
“There you go. Already turning over a new leaf,” he said quietly, humor flickering in his eyes—and something more. Something that had his lids growing heavy, his focus sinking to her mouth. The notch of her throat. Her breasts. She would normally take offense to that, except when this very disciplined man checked her out inappropriately, as if he couldn’t help it to save his life, her vagina was the opposite of offended.
If she leaned a few inches to the left, they would? Could? Kiss?
Weren’t they about to kiss when they were interrupted? Or had she imagined it?
Despite her sad lack of make-out partners throughout her life, she could tell he was considering it. Very. Strongly. They’d given up any pretense of harvesting grapes, and he’d wet his lips. Holy shit. This had to be a fever dream, right?
She’d had plenty of those starring this man.
“If I regret one thing about not having a direct hand in making wine at this vineyard . . .” He leaned in, letting out a long, heavy breath into her hair. “It’s that I can’t watch you drink a glass of Vos wine and know my efforts are sitting on that tongue.”
Oh my God. Oh my God. Goose bumps made their presence known on every inch of her skin, her blood turning hot and languid. Definitely not a dream. She couldn’t have come up with that line to save her life. “I mean . . .” Her voice wobbled. “We could pretend.”
“As friends, right, Hallie?” His lips brushed her ear. “Is that what you suggested to me?”
“Yes. Technically.”
“My friend who I think about at night in her polka dot bra. That friend?”
Wow. New fave undergarment.
Focus. Don’t get pulled under. There was a reason she’d suggested friendship, right? Yes. “You need control and punctuality.” His teeth closed around her ear, bit lightly and licked the spot, leaving her moaning, her fingers itching to rub her sensitive nipples through the front of her shirt. “I’m like a leaf blower to those things.”
“Oh, I’m well aware. I wish I could remember that when I look at you.”
Hallie’s ears echoed with the beats of her twisting heart. How could she do anything but kiss this man who was equally incredible in the past and present? How?
She turned her head slightly to the left, and his mouth skated across her cheek, getting closer. This was it. Finally. She was going to kiss Julian Vos, and he was even better than her memory. But there was something about the setting that tugged hard at her memory. The last time they’d almost kissed was right here in this very vineyard—a moment that had ruined her forever. And he didn’t even recall it. Still.
Didn’t she have more pride than to pucker up after he’d implied without words that she was so forgettable? Yes. She did. Not to mention . . . she was reeling a little bit after her trip down Self-Discovery Lane. Her frame of mind was scattered. Enough to act in character and do something she might possibly regret. Like give in to her attraction to Julian while her disappointment over his lack of memory still jabbed sharply upward beneath her skin. After acknowledging the root of her recent behavior, she was too aware of those faults to indulge them now. If he just remembered her, maybe she could justify turning her head that final inch.
Meeting his parted lips with her own.
But while he regarded her with enough lust to power Canada, there wasn’t any of the recognition she needed to make this okay. Furthermore . . . she didn’t know if she wanted to be this man’s leaf blower. Any kind of relationship with her would be bad for him, wouldn’t it? Even if it was strictly physical. Did she want to be bad for him?
“I better go,” she said, questioning her decision more with every passing second, especially when the fingers of his left hand curled in the dirt. As if restraining himself from reaching for her. “See you soon, Julian.”
“Yes,” he rasped, visibly shaking himself. “Thank you for the help.”
“Of course.” Hallie started to pick her way down the row, but hesitated, looking back to find the professor watching her from beneath two drawn brows. The last thing she wanted was to walk away and leave things awkward or heavy, when talking to him had unlocked something big. When he’d shared so much with her in return. “Hey, Julian?”
