Chapter 15
Jansen
I ’m weakening.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe it is that easy. Maybe we can have a sexy fling without anybody getting hurt.
Or maybe I’m telling myself that because I want her so fucking bad I’m harder than a woodpecker’s lips.
And yet…she’s exhausted. Despite the glow in her eyes and the pout of her bottom lip, the way she’s pressing into me with clear want and invitation, I can see it on her face.
“Okay,” I murmur, kissing her forehead. “But not tonight.”
“Whaaaaat?”
I nearly laugh at her whine. “You’re exhausted. Tomorrow night. We’ll do it right.”
“Is there a wrong way?” she grumbles as I start leading her back to her place. “I don’t think there is.”
“There is if you fall asleep in the middle of it.”
She huffs. “That’s not saying much for your skills.”
Lightness rises in my chest. Yeah, I’m horny as hell, but she amuses me. “Don’t worry about my skills.”
“Oh ho. Now my expectations are huge.”
“I’ll resist the obvious comeback.”
She laughs. Her delighted giggle has that lightness expanding through me even more. “Now I’m even more disappointed.”
“Patience, sweetheart.”
We emerge from the trees onto her property. I know I don’t need to walk her to the door, but I’m going to. She holds onto my arm as we cross the grounds and again, I can feel the fatigue in her sexy body.
We pause at the back door of the old Victorian house. I take in the peeling paint and overgrown weeds. Bianca and her sisters have their work cut out for them, bringing this place back to life. Emotion surges at how hard Bianca’s been working, the load she’s taken on, and especially what she’s done for me given she has all this to worry about.
The outside light is on and it highlights the circles beneath her pretty eyes as I turn her into my arms. “Okay. Come to my place tomorrow night. I’ll make you dinner again.”
Her eyelids droop. “Dinner? Is that all?”
“No. That’s not all.” I bend my knees and dip my head to find her mouth with mine. She makes a soft noise in her throat and I pull her closer, right against me. Soft. She’s soft and warm and she melts into me, like our bodies are made for each other. Her mouth opens for me and I’m gone. Jesus. My head spins as our tongues glide and taste and our lips cling.
Heat ripples over my skin and my balls draw up tight.
“More of that?”
“Jesus. Now that I’ve kissed you…now I know how sweet your mouth is…there’s no way you’re not getting fucked.”
She whimpers.
I kiss her until I can’t breathe, lift my mouth from hers to peer at her, then go in again. We kiss and kiss, luscious kisses, deep kisses, over and over. Then I catch her bottom lip in mine and suck gently. “Okay,” I groan. “That’s it. Or we’re doing it right here on your back porch.”
Eyes closed, she smiles.
“Good night, Bianca.”
Her eyelids flutter open and she gazes at me dreamily. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. I mean not doing this.”
“I can’t either. Christ.” My balls ache ferociously. I kiss her forehead and let her go. “Get some sleep.”
I walk away but I turn and watch her enter the house and close the door behind her.
I take a few long, harsh breaths, sucking fresh night air into my lungs. Jesus. I’ve been jerking off to thoughts of her for weeks. How the fuck am I going to sleep now that I’ve actually tasted that soft mouth? Felt those sweet tits press against my chest…learned that she wants me, too.
Holy shit. I stare at Bianca as she stumbles into the pressing house the next morning. She looks…awful.
I head straight toward her. “Are you okay?”
She gazes at me with foggy eyes that are huge in her pale face. She looks…sweaty. “I’m fine.”
“Jesus.” I lift a hand and press it to her forehead. “No. You’re not. You’re sick.”
“I have work to do.”
“Fuck that. You need to be in bed.”
“Jansen. I can’t .”
“Yes, you can. Come on.” I try to steer her to the door but she digs in her heels. “Bianca. Now. Or I’ll carry you out of here and I don’t care who sees.”
Her shoulders slump and I sense she gives in only because she feels like shit. Which is a little scary.
I take her home. Her house is empty, with both Rosa and Jake out working. I help her up the stairs and into her bedroom, where I’ve never been before. I get a quick impression of a few pieces of vintage furniture, an old-fashioned quilt on the bed, and sun pouring through gauzy curtains. I get Bianca onto the bed, pull off her boots and jeans.
Yeah, I’d like to be doing this for a different reason, but hell, she’s in rough shape. I tuck her under the covers in her pink lace panties and T-shirt. Then I pull down the blind on the window to shut out the light and set out to find the bathroom.
It’s a little weird, snooping through her drawers and cabinets. I find a washcloth that I soak in cold water. I search for a thermometer and come up empty, but I do find Advil. I run a glass of water and return to the bedroom. “Here.” I hand over a pill and the water, and fold the cloth to lay it on her forehead.
“I’ll be better in an hour,” she croaks. “I just need a little more sleep.”
“Sure.” I don’t believe that for a second.
“There’s so much to do,” she whines.
“It’ll get done.”
“By who?”
“By me,” I reply firmly. “And the team.”
“Nobody knows what to do,” she mumbles.
A smile tugs my lips. “You are the boss,” I agree. “But I think we can survive a day.”
She looks like she’s going to cry.
“It’s okay,” I soothe. “We got this. You need to rest.”
I go down to the kitchen and find some juice for her. I send Rosa a text to let her know Bianca’s sick.
When Bianca dozes off, I sit in a nearby chair and watch her. Her damp hair is flattened to her scalp and her skin is much paler than her usual golden tan. But she still looks beautiful. My eyes wander over the curve of her high cheekbones, the soft fullness of her lips, the dark crescents of her eyelashes.
I don’t like seeing her like this. She’s always so full of life. Unstoppable.
I rub my stomach, feeling like I just ate some bad shellfish.
I look around the room again in the dim light. There isn’t a lot of Bianca’s personal style, although I’m not sure what that is. I run a hand over the soft, well-washed quilt made of fabric squares in shades of green, pink, and cream. The rug next to the bed has similar colors. On the dresser sit a bottle of lotion, a hairbrush, a stack of folded towels and…a black and white bear. My gaze snags on the plush toy and stays there.
It’s the panda I won at the fair that night. A slow smile tugs one corner of my lips up.
I get up to lay my hand gently on Bianca’s forehead. Still warm. I go run the cloth under cold water, squeeze it out, and gently lay it on her forehead again. Then I sit on the edge of the chair, gnaw on my lip, and watch her more.
When Rosa shows up, her forehead creased with concern, I tell her that Bianca’s had Advil and juice. “Jesus,” I mutter, rubbing my mouth. “She looked terrible.”
She gives me a strange look, then shoos me out. “I’ll take care of her.”
I stand at the bedroom door for one last look before I leave. I don’t want to go, but there is work to be done.
I jog back to the lab. Bianca’s a stickler for notes and I grab one of the binders where she makes plans. I quickly find the notes she made yesterday about what needs to be done today. Then I go find Antonio and we get busy.
“Which tank do you want to move this pinot noir to?” he asks me.
I almost panic.
No. I got this. I read Bianca’s notes, and remember what she’s said about the chardonnay. They’re going to a stainless tank and with as much confidence as I can muster, I direct Antonio.
I keep checking my phone to see if Bianca’s texted. By lunch time, I haven’t heard anything, so I head back to her place. I knock before opening the door, and Jake appears.
“Hey,” I say. “I came to check on Bianca.”
“Rosa’s with her,” he says. “Come in.”
“Can I go up?”
He gives me a crisp look, then shrugs. “Okay.”
I take the stairs two at a time and knock on the bedroom door even though it’s open. Bianca’s still out flat on her back and Rosa, bless her, has a thermometer.
“She has quite a fever,” she says to me.
“I thought so.” I run a jerky hand through my hair and move closer. “Hey, beautiful.”
Rosa gives me a pointed look not unlike Jake’s. Right now, I don’t care.
“Jansen.” Bianca lifts a hand. “I’m sorry.” Her bottom lip trembles.
“It’s okay. I told you, we got this.” I stroke her hair off her face.
“I called the doctor,” Rosa says. “I think she has a UTI. She’s had them before.”
“Oh.” I turn to Rosa, frowning.
“He’s going to call a prescription in to the pharmacy.”
Okay, good, good. “I’ll go get it.”
“That’s okay, I can do it.”
“Okay.” I blow out a breath. “Medication will help, right?”
She smiles. “Yes. It should make her feel better pretty quickly.”
“Whew.” I look back at my girl. “You’ll be better soon. You’ll be back bossing everyone around in no time.”
A smile ghosts over her lips.
I pick up her hand and kiss it. “Okay. I’ll check back later.”
Once again, I become aware of Rosa’s acute regard. I lower Bianca’s hand to the covers.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
Back in the cellar, Antonio and I draw samples to taste. I’ve listened and learned from Bianca and I know that the TA decreases during fermentation. My tasting also tells me the wine should be more acidic, so I instruct Antonio to add tartaric acid in this tank.
When it’s time for the cellar meeting to talk about the crew’s schedule for tomorrow I’m again grateful for Bianca’s detailed notes and the time I’ve spent with her, and with the input of Antonio and Diego, we draw up a plan for tomorrow.
I don’t want to let her down, so I carefully make notes about everything we’ve done today, and then I hotfoot it back to her place to check on her.
She’s better. Somewhat. She’s sitting up in bed with pillows propped behind her, reading a book. Relief slides through my veins. “Hey. How’re you doing?”
She looks up and smiles, still pale. “Better. A bit. I’m on antibiotics now.”
“Yeah. That’s good.” I sit on the edge of the bed and feel her forehead. “Feels better.”
“The Advil helped. Thank you.”
I nod.
“So much for dinner tonight,” she says. “And…”
I have to admit I’m disappointed. But I’m relieved she’s okay. “Well, here you are in a bed…” I hoist an eyebrow and lift my hands to the buttons of my shirt.
She grins weakly. “You made a joke.”
“Yeah.” I reach out and smooth back her hair. “We have lots of time for…dinner.”
Her eyes warm. “Okay. How did things go today?”
“Good. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’ll be there tomorrow.”
“Like hell you will.”
“I’m sure I’ll feel better.”
Rather than argue, I say, “Let’s play it by ear.”
Again, she relents too easily, a sign of how ill she is.
“Are you hungry?” I ask.
“Mmm. Not really.”
“Maybe some soup?”
She nods. “With crackers? Goldfish?” she adds hopefully.
I smile. “You got it, beautiful.”
I don’t know if they have Goldfish in their kitchen but I’ll drive to San Francisco to get them if I have to, and then I will feed her the goddamn soup mouthful by mouthful to make sure she eats.