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“I think that if he hadn’t, he would still be knocking on my door, digging through Dad’s records, asking his inane questions.”
Noah rested his forearms on his knees. “You’re right about that much.”
“And I’m right that his report is complete?” she asked, barely daring to breathe.
“Right again.”
“Well?”
“Well, nothing.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m not convinced that Simmons’s report was conclusive. There are a few discrepancies.”
“Such as?”
Noah found himself lying with incredible ease. Was this how it started, with a single deception that multiplied and compounded until it became an intricate network of lies? Is this what had happened to his father? “Nothing all that important . . . it’s just that the insurance company needs some more documents to support his theories. Until PacWest is satisfied, the entire report isn’t considered valid.”
Doubts darkened her eyes and her confidence in him wavered. The trust he had worked so hard to establish was flowing from her as surely as sand through an hourglass.
“I assume that means that Mr. Simmons and his questions will be back.”
“Maybe not”
“Noah.” Her voice was amazingly level for the sense of betrayal that was overwhelming her. “You’re talking in circles. Just tell me the truth . . . all of it.”
One lie begat another. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“Then why did you come here? I thought you had news about the winery. I thought we could finally put the fire behind us.”
This time he didn’t have to lie. His eyes were a clear blue, filled with sincerity. “Don’t let the fire stand between us. I came here because I wanted to’ see you. Can’t you believe that?”
“Oh, God, Noah, I want to,” she whispered fervently. She let her forehead drop into the open palm of her hand. Noah’s heart turned over, as he witnessed her defeat. “It’s just that I feel that you’re holding back on me. Am I wrong? Aren’t there things you know that you should be sharing with me?”
He traced the sculpted line of her jaw with his finger. The curves of her bones neared perfection. “Just trust me, Sheila,” he stated, feeling the traitor he was. He tilted her head with the strength of one finger and pressed his lips against hers. His lips were gentle but persuasive. His seduction began to work. Against her will, she thought less of the fire and the damage to the winery and concentrated with a growing awareness of the man. She realized that he was pushing against her, that she was falling backward, but she knew that his strong arm would break her fall and before her back would encounter the plaid blanket and cold earth, he would catch her. She wanted to trust him with her life.
His hands parted her blouse, slipping the cotton fabric easily over her shoulders, and his tongue rimmed her lips, which opened willingly to his moist touch. His fingers grazed her breast and finally settled against it, warming her skin and causing her to moan. She trembled with need of him and felt contentment welling from deep within her when he unclasped her bra and pressed his flesh against hers, molding his skin to hers.
Her nipple hardened under his erotic touch, and he growled hungrily in the back of his throat. “You do make me crazy, you know,” he whispered against the pink shell of her ear. “You make me want to do things to you that will bind me to you forever,” he admitted raggedly. “I want to make love to you and never stop.... Damn it, Sheila, I love you.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat that had formed during his tortured admission. How could she possibly sort the fact from fiction? Tears began to collect in her eyes. “You . . . you don’t have to say anything,” she stammered, bracing herself for the denial that was sure to come once his passion had subsided.
“I don’t want to love you, Sheila . . . but I just can’t seem to help myself.” His black brows knit in confusion as he looked down upon her, witnessing her tears and misreading them. “Oh, no, Sheila, darling, don’t cry.”
To still him and prevent any more half-truths to form on his lips, she kissed him, holding his head against hers and letting him feel the depth of her desire.
Her heart began to thud in her chest, and the blood rushing through her veins turned molten. His hands smoothed the skin over her breasts and down her rib cage, pressing against her with enough force to mold her skin tightly over her ribs and inflame the skin when his fingers dipped below the waistband of her jeans.
His lips followed the path of his hands, and his hungry mouth caressed each breast moistly as his tongue massaged a nipple. She felt the convulsions of desire rip through her body as he trailed a dewy path of kisses across the soft skin of her abdomen. Still, his hands kneaded her breasts. Involuntarily she·sucked in her breath and arched against him. Her fingers pushed his shirt off his shoulders and dug into the hard, lean muscles of his upper arms.
When he removed her jeans, he tossed them aside and she sighed in contentment. Slowly he rose and took off his jeans, discarding them into a pile near hers. She stared at him unguardedly, devouring the contours of his tanned muscles as if her eyes were starved for the sight of him.
The sun was beginning to set, casting lengthening shadows across the valley. The fading light played over his skin, adding an ethereal dimension to the oncoming evening.
Noah was silent as he settled next to her and began caressing her with his lips and hands. He stroked her intimately, forcing the tide of her desire to crest, making the blood within her throb with fiery need as it pulsed through her body. They lay together, face-to-face, man to woman, alone except for the hungry need that controlled them.
He took her slowly, coupling with her as gently as if she were new to him. He waited until he felt her demand a faster rhythm, until he saw passion glaze her eyes, until the pain in his back where her fingernails had found his flesh forced him to a more violent, savage union.
