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I'll Be Yours for Christmas
Samantha Hunter









“Are you up for a little adventure?”

Reece remembered how excited Abby had been, and it had been just as hot for him, too. Did she still want that?

“It’s been building between us ever since we were kids, Abby. It’s time we took a chance on us.”

Needing her answer right then, he pulled her up close to him, his hands traveling up her back and into her hair.

It was like silk. He wanted to feel it trailing over his shoulders, his chest, everywhere.

The thought made his kiss less introductory, less tentative, than it might have been otherwise.

He took her soft lips and opened her mouth, swallowing a deep moan that came from her immediately. She felt so right, but better, the flames leaping between them were incredibly hot.

Her arms went around his neck, and she twined her tongue with his, as she strained to meet his every move.

He’d take that as a yes.


Dear Reader,

Christmas can be one of the most romantic times of the year, but the holidays can also bring enormous stress. What better way to escape it all than with a hot romance? That’s what my heroine, Abby, is thinking, when she decides to give herself a little much-needed Christmas cheer by having a holiday fling with the boy next door, Reece Winston.

Reece is happy to oblige, as he’s never quite forgotten the pretty friend he always teased in school, but now Abby is all grown up, and Reece wants to make up for lost time. Neither one of them anticipates falling in love, but Christmas is a time for surprises, too.

Best of the season to you and your family, whichever holiday you celebrate. I hope you enjoy I’ll Be Yours for Christmas (maybe with a nice glass of wine or hot chocolate), and that Abby and Reece’s story can offer you a little escape from the hustle and bustle, as well.

Happy holidays,

Samantha Hunter




About the Author


SAMANTHA HUNTER lives in Syracuse, New York, where she writes full-time. When she’s not plotting her next story, Sam likes to work in her garden, quilt, cook, read and spend time with her husband and their dogs. Most days you can find Sam chatting on the Blaze


boards online at eHarlequin.com, or you can check out what’s new, enter contests or drop her a note at her website, www.samanthahunter.com.


I’ll be Yours

for Christmas



Samantha Hunter














www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




1


ABBY HARPER’S EYES clung to the man who stood not twenty feet away, dressed in an expensive silk suit that glided over his broad chest and muscled arms like water over rock.

Reece Winston.

She frowned, watching the restaurant hostess sidle up a little closer than necessary, making sure Reece had a clear view down the deep V of her low-cut blouse.

Abby couldn’t blame her, not really, taking in the impressive figure Reece made as he turned, noticing the way the tailored pants clung to a perfect masculine ass that had her fingers itching to reach out for a squeeze.

She knew just how it would feel. She’d been there, done that.

Almost, anyway.

Once, a long, long time ago. How unfair—or pathetic—was it that she could remember the feel of one man’s backside from eight years before?

To his credit, Reece barely seemed to notice the hostess, as he was deep in conversation with a small, hawkish man who stood beside him. Abby had heard Reece was home but hadn’t seen him around, even though he lived next door.

That wasn’t unusual. He’d come home a few times over the years since he’d left for life in Europe, but their paths had never intersected. She’d been off to school, or busy working at her parents’ winery, and Reece had his life as a famous race car driver on the Formula One circuit. With the differences between their two lives, the half a mile between their homes might as well have been a thousand.

This was the first time she’d actually seen him anywhere but in a local newspaper or television sports report. Her heart beat a little too quickly for her liking. So she turned her attention away, though she wasn’t really looking at the crowds milling around the Ithaca Commons, the artsy, outdoor shopping plaza in the heart of the small central New York city.

It was almost a month before Christmas, the Friday after Thanksgiving, which she had spent catching up on inventory. Abby and her friend Hannah were meeting here for lunch, something Abby had been looking forward to all week. Some downtime and a chance to forget about work for an hour or so.

Some light snow fell, blowing and circling around the booted feet of shoppers and local shopkeepers who were moving around the walkway. She hardly noticed. Her mind insisted on reminiscing about Reece.

She’d only kissed him once, on a crazy, wine-drenched evening one summer when he’d been home from college, the semester before he took off for Europe. They were both at the same lakeside party given by a mutual friend. Even then, Reece ran with a crowd way out of Abby’s league.

Abby had been seeing Josh Martin back then, a graduate student from Cornell Veterinary College who helped out at their vineyard, where they also hosted a small petting zoo with goats and sheep. Josh was a great guy. Cute.

Abby had been lying in wait by a dense hedgerow, intent on seducing her date. When she pulled the man she thought was Josh into the quiet, dark spot, she didn’t give him a chance to say anything. She kissed him in clear invitation before he could say a word.

Abby discovered early on that she liked some kink with her sex, and Josh had a kind of quiet reserve that she took as a challenge. Sex outdoors at a party, with people right on the other side of the hedge, was an exciting thought for her, but she knew her mild-mannered date would have to be convinced.

She had pretty much made her way around second base heading for third when she told him how pleased she was with his sense of adventure and wondered what other experiments he might be up for.

Reece had chuckled softly and whispered in her ear that he would be happy to try anything she wanted to suggest.

She’d recognized his voice, and her mistake, immediately.

It had been so humiliating. Even now, her cheeks burned to think of it. She’d popped out from the hedges without even fixing her clothes, much to the amusement of some onlookers in the yard. Reece walked out, too, completely unapologetic with his shirt still unbuttoned, his eyes hot and the top button of his jeans undone. The button she had been undoing when he’d spoken up.

Worse, as furious as she was, she’d wanted to go back behind that hedge and finish what they’d started. Reece smiled and told her to lighten up, that he wouldn’t have let it go too far. She imagined he and his buddies had a great laugh about it later.

Then he told her that Josh had received an emergency phone call and had to leave suddenly. Josh had asked Reece to find Abby and let her know. He’d started to say something else, but Abby had turned and left, and that was the last time she’d seen him, until now.

Reece had been her tormentor since childhood. The boy who always hid her lunchbox in the wrong locker, who tugged her pigtails and always, always rubbed it in that his parents’ vineyards were bigger, more profitable and better than her family’s smaller organic operation.

Though Reece teased her, he was never really mean. When she was fourteen, in fact, he defended her when another boy had been needlessly cruel about her braces, making her cry. Reece had almost punched the other boy, she remembered. Abby hated to admit it, but a secret, nasty little crush on him developed in that moment.

And he knew it.

And she knew that he knew, even when they both emerged back out from behind the hedge and he’d smiled at her so knowingly.

“Hey, earth to Abby?” The voice finally broke through as Hannah Morgan, her best friend since high school, returned to the table, sliding back into her seat.

Abby shook her head clear and blinked the past away.

“Sorry, lost in thought.”

“Yeah, I saw Reece at the door. From the roses blooming in your cheeks, I assume you did, too.”

Abby grunted. “It’s just warm in here.”

Hannah grinned widely. “Warmer since Reece walked in,” she said without shame, watching him where he sat across the room from them. “I guess he’s home because of what happened with his dad.”

“I’m kind of surprised to see him, really. He had a bad crash last spring and has been recovering ever since—it was really serious,” Abby said, shuddering as she remembered seeing the replay of the accident on the news. Reece had been on his way to superstardom, living a glamorous and high-profile life as a race car driver until the crash.

Hannah cocked an eyebrow. “I’d heard, but didn’t realize you followed racing that closely.”

“I just watch the news. And I might have read a few things online.”

“Well, he looks healthy and hale to me,” Hannah said with a playful leer.

Abby knew better than to look again, but did anyway, and sure enough, as soon as she peeked, Reece turned his head to look directly at her.

The shared look nearly sucked the breath out of her.

The years disappeared, and she was the crush-stricken teenager again. His eyes narrowed, and she knew that he recognized her, too, even though she was now twenty-five pounds lighter and her previously plain, boy-short brown hair was now long and layered, curling softly with honey-blond highlights, her one indulgence.

“Why does he have to be so hot?” Abby mumbled, deeply annoyed and digging in to the beautiful salad that a server set before her moments ago. Shoving a forkful of spinach and various greens, fresh pears, walnuts and blue cheese into her mouth, she barely tasted it. Reece’s fault.

“Hey, I think he’s coming over,” Hannah whispered across the table, looking up with a big smile as Reece approached them.

“What?” Abby sputtered, swallowing a mouthful of greens, promptly choking on her food as she saw Hannah was right. Abby coughed, reaching for her water, but suddenly strong hands had her from behind, spanning her rib cage and pulling her back against a rock-solid chest.

“I’m okay, I’m okay!” she insisted. She could sense the heat from his hands on her skin in spite of the sweater she wore over her blouse. His hold released, and she took a few breaths, composing herself.

“Abby?” he said in a voice that was deeper than she remembered, his breath just brushing the back of her neck.

She didn’t turn around, not yet. Picking up her water, she took a sip, using the moment to focus. Then, smoothing the front of her sweater, she faced him with a bright smile.

“Reece. How nice to see you,” she said, and was yet again flung back to those hedges as his gray eyes sparkled with warm recognition. He was remembering it, too, she could tell. Damn it. “Thanks for the first aid, but I really was okay,” she said.

“Glad to help,” he said. “So, Abby Harper, all grown up. No more pigtails or braces,” he said with a smile and a wink.

Her cheeks heated and she wanted to kick Hannah for grinning so broadly.

“I’m sorry to hear about your father. I hope he’s doing well,” Abby said, meaning it, determined to act like an adult.

She noticed a network of thin scars, recently healed, that ran along the side of his neck, and what looked like another behind his ear. “And you, too,” she continued. “That was an awful accident they showed on the news. I’m so glad you’re up and around. You look great,” she said, proud of herself for sounding so mature, like an old friend who was happy to see him again.

Reece’s expression became more serious. She thought he looked bigger now, more muscular than she remembered. She assumed that all race drivers kept to a rigorous fitness regimen and needed to be physically fit to withstand the physical and mental pressures of racing, but … wow.

Those beautiful, thick-lashed eyes were the same, as were the sharp cheekbones and full lips. She’d always loved how his pin-straight, raven-black hair had fallen in his eyes, a little long in the front, but now he kept it cropped short, which only accented his features all the more.

“Thank you. Dad’s recovering well. Doctors are very optimistic.”

He obviously didn’t want to discuss his own near miss, and she couldn’t say she blamed him. Regardless of his celebrity status, it couldn’t be fun to have your private life and health problems made into entertainment news.

Abby nodded. “Is he still at the hospital? I imagine he’d probably be happy to be back to work when he can.”

Reece frowned. “Actually, he won’t. The surgery was remarkably fast—they can do amazing things these days. He and Mom were only home for a few days, but they’re down with Ben now, in South Carolina. The doctors advised it, so that he’d be in an easier climate, closer to hospitals. They’ll live with Ben and his family for a while, which will make it easier on Mom. Then they plan to find a new place down there.”

“Oh,” she said, her reaction part surprise and part regret. She liked the Winstons and would have liked to have seen them before they left. They’d been good neighbors. “Who’s taking over the vineyards? You?”

It was what she’d done when her parents retired. They were off catching up on all of the travel they had put off all those years. Abby was happy for them and she loved the updates they sent her and posted on their Facebook pages. Her parents—world adventurers.

“Not exactly,” Reece said, looking cautious. “We’ve decided selling is the best option. I’m taking care of the details, though, and I have some buyers interested, but—”

“You’re selling?” she interrupted, in shock.

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“But, I thought … now that you’re not racing …”

Her misstep was reflected in the tightening of his expression.

“I want to be back to racing next year,” he said shortly. “As soon as possible, really. So there’s no choice but to sell. Which reminds me,” he said, glancing over at his table, “I have to get back to my meeting. I just wanted to say hello.”

“Oh,” was all Abby managed to say.

Reece’s expression shifted from cool to friendly again. Maybe a little too smoothly, in Abby’s estimation.

“It’s good to see you, though. Maybe we’ll get a chance to have a drink together over the holiday, catch up on old times. I should be home for the month, to see the sale through and finish things up here,” he said.

“Yeah, sure,” she responded, but he’d already turned to walk away. This time, she did notice a slight hitch in his gait and wondered about his injuries. Things might be happening behind the scenes that the public didn’t know about … still, she’d thought from what had been reported in the news and online that he was out of the sport.

“Wow, I can’t believe he’s selling,” Abby said again, her mind returning to that bombshell. There were some new start-ups along the lake, and some of the vineyards had closed over the years, but Maple Hills and Winston Vineyards were the two oldest in the area. “All the news said he was out of racing. His accident left him with injuries that simply won’t allow him back in.”

“He seems to think differently,” Hannah said absently.

Abby watched Reece sit down at his table and then turned to see Hannah worriedly chewing her lip.

“What?”

“I hope he hasn’t been talking with the Keller Corp. rep. The same guy who bought out Stevens and Harvest vineyards last year.”

Abby put her fork back down, her hands turning cold.

“No.”

“It’s a possibility.”

“He … can’t. He can’t sell to them. It would ruin Maple Hills!” As if selling wasn’t bad enough, selling to Keller would be a disaster.

Keller was a housing developer that had been buying up lakeside property and building cookie-cutter housing developments that ruined the area’s natural appeal. They didn’t care about the watershed or about the long tradition of wineries in the area. They didn’t care about anything, except for making money.

The runoff from pavement, lawn chemicals and the potential for septic leaks and so forth, would be awful for her business, ruining her land. Not to mention scarring the beautiful view of the lake.

“Every wedding couple we book wants to be married out on the vineyard, with the view of the lake. We’d lose them all if the backdrop is a bunch of prefab houses,” she said, shaking her head.

Even in the economic hard times, people still got married, and these days many of them decided to do so locally to save money. Her wedding bookings were up considerably, and that helped when wine sales were down. In fact, she was preparing for a wedding reception that was scheduled for two days before Christmas. Weddings and other special events had become a big part of her bottom line.

Harvey Winston, Reece’s father, hadn’t been an organic farmer, not strictly, but he used the least harmful methods available and made sure to observe a buffer between her grapes and his. And all of the vineyards worked to maintain the beauty of the landscape, as it was to their collective advantage.

No way would Keller Corp. care. In fact, if they drove her out, they would buy up her family business, as well.

“He can’t do it, Hannah.”

“Well, he can, sadly. And probably will if he wants to sell fast and for a good price,” Hannah said flatly, making Abby sit back in her chair, utterly losing her appetite altogether.

“There has to be some other way. I should talk to him, maybe we can work something out.”

“I’m sorry, hon, but I do your accounting, and there is no way you can afford to buy him out. Speaking as your friend, without Sarah, you already have more than you can manage alone. Maybe if you hire someone.” Hannah said sympathetically.

“I planned to, in the summer. I don’t have time for interviews now. But if he sells, none of it will matter.”

Sarah had been her manager and her second-in-command. She’d known the winery and their vineyards inside out, had been with them since her parents ran the place, but finally had also decided to retire a few months before. It had been tough finding a suitable replacement. Abby had been running in circles handling everything.

“What are you thinking?” she asked Hannah, who had that look that told Abby her friend was clearly cooking up something as she smiled mysteriously.

“Well, he was awfully eager to get his hands on you—no way were you choking badly enough for him to jump in and Heimlich you.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you two always had some chemistry, always had a little push and pull between you. Maybe that’s something you could use to your advantage.”

“You’re deluded.”

“You know it’s true. You said yourself that he was a great kisser and you wish that snafu behind the hedgerow had gone further. So …”

“No fair. I said that when I was really drunk.”

“And we know alcohol is like truth serum for you. But why not give it a try?”

“Are you seriously suggesting I sleep with Reece in order to get him to change his mind about selling?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way. Just … strike up your old friendship, flirt a little, see if you can make him more sympathetic to your cause. Or at the very least, keep your enemies closer so you know what’s going on. He seemed interested in meeting up for a drink, and well, it can’t hurt, right?”

Abby narrowed her eyes. “I don’t believe I’ve seen this side of your personality. Very Desperate Housewives. But it’s not for me. Besides, that incident behind the bushes was a mistake. Before that, the only chemistry we had was him tormenting me since second grade.”

“Boys always punch girls in the arm when they like them.”

“You’ve been watching Brady Bunch repeats again, haven’t you?” Abby accused, and both of them collapsed in laughter for a moment, before Abby sighed, sobering again.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to come up with some other plan.”

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Hannah suggested. “I know the developments suck, but you haven’t had a vacation in almost two years, and have you even been out on a date in that time?”

“One,” Abby challenged.

Though that hadn’t been so much of a date as a disaster.

“All you do is work. Your parents never meant for you to have no life when they turned the place over. Maybe if you sold it, you could—”

Abby looked at her in horror. “How can you even say that? My parents risked everything, worked their entire lives to make this business a success, and at a time when organic farming had hardly been heard of, let alone been popular. How can I just sell out on them?”

Hannah shrugged. “It’s worth thinking about, from a practical perspective, hon. Things change. Sometimes you have to change with them.”

Abby knew she had been working too hard, almost constantly since Sarah retired, and Hannah was right on one score—as her parents’ only child, they were delighted to give her the business, but they were also huge believers in balance. They would be the first ones to tell her to ease up—yet they would also never sell to somebody like Keller, Abby knew that in her heart of hearts.

There had to be some way she could talk to Reece, find an alternative or get him to change his mind. Short of sleeping with him, not that the idea didn’t have some appeal. He was gorgeous, undeniably.

“I guess I could at least talk to him,” she said lamely, watching Reece deep in conversation with his business associate over big sandwiches. Thinking about those strong hands on her rib cage and the hot kisses they had shared, she wondered if Hannah wasn’t on to something.

Maybe her friend was right. Why not? They were old friends—sort of—but they were both grown up now. She hadn’t had so much as a kiss good-night in months. She knew for a fact that kissing Reece wouldn’t be any sacrifice at all, and if it would get him to listen to her.

All of her appetites kicked back in, and with a dash of hope she dug back into her salad.

Hannah’s lips twitched and she had a self-satisfied look. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

Abby couldn’t resist a smile. “Hey, you’re the one who wants me to go out on a date. Besides, it’s not like I would let it go too far,” she said, echoing Reece’s words from so long ago. “I wouldn’t trade sex for him selling the place to me or anything tawdry like that, but as you said, maybe just some flirting, spending time together, might help him see my side of things a little better.”

“Exactly. Just be careful. Remember from eleventh-grade chemistry what happens when you put two volatile substances together,” Hannah warned, but her eyes were twinkling with mischief.

“Maybe,” Abby said, but her mind was racing ahead, intrigued by the idea of flirting with Reece. “But what a way to go.”

REECE WAS HAVING a hard time focusing, and it had nothing to do with the injuries he’d sustained nine months before and everything to do with the unbelievably sexy woman sitting across the room. He could hardly believe that was Abby Harper.

Seeing her had been the first pleasant surprise he’d had since coming back to help with his family’s affairs. Life had been one long string of disasters for the past year. First, two members of his racing team had to be replaced at the start of the season, after which they’d lost a major sponsor, and then he’d had his accident at the end of March, right when he’d been about to turn a major corner in his career.

Everyone told him he was lucky to be alive and in one piece, walking and talking again, and he supposed that was true. He’d been in a coma for three days, followed by six months of language and physical therapy after he had emerged from the coma, his head injury leaving him with a broken memory and speech problems. He’d overcome it all. Mostly.

Some of the guys he’d known hadn’t made it through crashes that left them with lesser injuries, but there were a lot of days when Reece didn’t feel all that lucky, especially since they told him there would be no more racing, not until a neurologist cleared him. Then his dad had a major heart attack. It had been one thing after another, and Reece found his time split between his recovery and wanting to get back to racing and having to help out his family. They’d been there for him, and there was no way he’d leave them in the lurch now, but it sure didn’t make things easier. His life was an ocean away.

For months his mom and dad had been traveling back and forth to Europe, where Reece lived just outside of Paris. It was too much strain for them to try to run the winery and travel so often, and his father’s illness was proof of that. He felt responsible, and although they’d bent over backward to tell him it wasn’t his fault, guilt demanded he stay here and help in any way he could.

He’d been here, in central New York State, for a few weeks, though he had spent most of the time at the hospital, in hotels and then getting his parents to his brother’s home down South. He couldn’t help the feeling that his real life was passing him by. He could only be absent from racing for so long. There were always new guys coming up, ready to take his place, and sponsors had short memories. Few drivers came back after a crash like his; hell, few survived.

But Reece wasn’t ready to retire yet. He just had to sell the winery, to do the best he could by his parents and get back to France ASAP. At thirty-one, he didn’t have too many years left to get back into the game.

Though some guys raced into their forties, it was getting to be less and less the case, so he needed to still show he could do the job. The doctors were apprehensive, but he planned to prove them wrong. He’d come this far, he was going the rest of the way.

He thought again of Abby’s shocked face when he’d said he was going to sell the winery. His parents weren’t thrilled, either, but they’d long ago accepted that both of their boys had other lives now. Still, Reece was bothered by the clear disapproval in Abby’s gorgeous brown eyes when he’d made the announcement.

“So, I can bring the Keller representative by tomorrow, if you like,” Charles said.

Charles Tyler was one of the premiere real estate agents in the area, and he was also a shark—if anyone could sell the place for the best price, it would be him.

“They’d be a last resort. I thought I made that clear.”

Charles sighed, smiling slightly at the pretty server who delivered their lunch. “Well, if you want it sold for the asking price and fast, they are the best bet. They’ll jump at a property as large as yours.”

Reece frowned. They’d also tear down the renovated farmhouse he grew up in, and they’d flatten the vineyards, rows of Riesling, Chardonnay and Pinot Noir grapes, paving them over with cul-de-sacs and driveways. He’d been away, but he kept in touch, and he’d seen the changes along the lake since he’d come back, few of them good.

“Some of those vines have been around longer than my parents have been alive, planted by my grandfather,” Reece murmured, not realizing he’d said it out loud.

“Well, you might be able to sell to another winery, but it won’t go for nearly as much, not in this economic climate,” Charles said with a sigh, no doubt disappointed that sentimentality could get in the way of a larger commission for him. “And it could take quite a bit longer.”

Reece nodded, thinking. “Keep Keller on the line, but let’s not move too fast. If they want it now, they’ll want it a month from now, but let’s see what comes up in the meanwhile,” he said, his eyes drifting back to Abby.

“Who’s the girl?” Charles asked, following Reece’s gaze.

“Abby Harper. An old friend, her family owns the winery next to ours, Maple Hills.”

“More than a friend?” Charles asked.

“No. Just a girl I knew in high school,” Reece said.

“Any chance she might be interested in selling, as well? I could get you a sweet deal if you two went in on a sale together—that could significantly up the price Keller would offer.”

“I doubt she would ever sell, and definitely not to Keller,” Reece said.

“They’re not the devil,” Charles said dryly. “They just build developments, nice ones, which tend to fill up very quickly.”

“I know what they do,” Reece said absently, his attention still on Abby.

Charles picked up the check and changed the subject, droning on about local real estate markets or some other big sale he had just completed, all of which Reece tuned out.

Abby was in close conversation with her friend, whom he only vaguely remembered from school. He and Abby hadn’t really belonged to the same crowd, even though they grew up next door to each other and shared a common interest between their families.

Her folks were always a little different than everyone else on the lake—more iconoclastic, with their organic methods and sustainable farming beliefs, the petting zoo and homespun lifestyle. Those things were all the rage now, of course. Maple Hills could ask twice for a bottle of wine what other noncertified organic vineyards could.

While they were still primarily a small family business, Maple Hills had broadened its distribution and marketing quite successfully in recent years, so his father said. Probably Abby’s doing. She had a good head for business and was growing it well.

She’d taken a lot of ribbing in school—she and her parents being called hippies and so forth—and quite a bit of that had been from him. He hadn’t meant any of it, not in a mean-spirited way, but even then, Abby had been fun to tease. He could never resist.

Her cheeks turned pink if he even looked at her, and he’s always thought it was cute. He’d never suspected she would be as hot and as daring as he had discovered that night at the lake party.

It was the last time he’d seen her until now. Though he’d kissed plenty of women in between—including a few A-list celebrities—the memory of Abby Harper pressed up against him and kissing him for all she was worth, her hands everywhere, was as clear to him as if it had happened five minutes ago.

He’d wanted to drag her back behind the hedge that night, and he’d regretted making light of it afterward. She’d bolted before he could ask her out. On a date. So they could do it right.

He wanted to make up for what he’d been too much of an immature idiot to do in high school. He’d always liked her, but when he was young, he was too worried about what his friends would think. Typical teenage boy stuff.

A few years later, on that night by the lake, he didn’t care what anyone thought, but Abby was clearly not interested as soon as she found out whom she’d been feeling up behind the bushes.

He’d known, in some corner of his mind, that she hadn’t been in real danger of choking at her table earlier, but seeing her had somehow led to the immediate need to touch her. He’d become semihard from the way her pretty backside pressed against him when he’d been trying to help her, his wrists just brushing the undersides of her full breasts when he’d wrapped his arms around her.

Sad, when emergency Heimlich was your excuse to get close to a woman, but Reece hadn’t had sex since before his accident and, apparently, his body was more than ready for some action. Despite lingering effects from his injuries, that part of his nervous system seemed to be in fine working order.

What if he decided to pursue that drink with Abby and see if they could pick up where they’d left off by the bushes? She hadn’t been interested back then, but he could swear he’d felt her respond to his touch today, and not just in a panic about choking.

It was fun to think about, and it might be worth seeing the look on her face if he asked. He couldn’t resist the idea of teasing Abby, even now, though the way he wanted to tease her had taken on a whole new dimension.

He chuckled to himself, feeling better than he had in weeks.

“Something funny about that?” Charles asked, obviously peeved, either because he knew Reece wasn’t listening, or because Reece had just laughed at something he shouldn’t have.

“Oh, no, sorry. I was just thinking about something else,” he said vaguely.

“Okay, well, I’ll start pushing the property and see what we can do to hold Keller off for a while, but unless you want to wait longer, they may be the best deal in town,” Charles repeated.

“I’ll talk to them, but I just want to see what other offers we get. I’ll be living at the house, so you can get me there. You have my numbers,” Reece said.

“I’ll do my best.” Charles stood and shook Reece’s hand firmly, an action that sent a buzz of numbness rushing up his arm, making him wince and reminding him all of the problems from his accident that still remained.

The short-lived nerve reaction ticked off a bit of desperation, nearly making him tell Charles to sell to Keller now. Reece had to get back to Europe, had to get better and had to race again. It was the only life he knew or wanted.

But Charles was on his way out, and Reece took a breath, calming down. It would be okay. He’d healed faster than anyone thought he would, and he’d be on the track again before next summer. Still, the sooner he could conclude his business here, the better, he thought with a small pang of regret as he took one more glimpse of Abby before leaving the café.




2


THE NEXT DAY, ABBY was busy from the moment she woke up, barely able to keep up with everything she had to get done, even though it was a weekend. Weekends—Saturdays, anyway—were busier than weekdays for her, and today was no exception.

She’d waited all morning only to be stood up by an electrician who was supposed to show up during the week, but had rescheduled and then stood her up again. Some overhead lights kept flickering intermittently in the main room of the winery, and she needed it fixed yesterday.

Today they’d had three tastings and tours offered at ten o’clock, noon and two, and in between that she was fielding online orders, wedding prep and Christmas decorating that should have been done two weeks ago. The guests were fewer than they had been over the summer, or on holidays like Valentine’s Day, when they did their wine-and-chocolate parties. Still, they’d had a respectable showing for each tour.

Right now she was in the middle of the last tasting, and while she was exhausted, her mind running in a million directions, she focused on smiling, explaining the type and origin of each wine and its story.

All of their wines had stories, background about how old the vines were, where they came from, who planted them and anything fun or anecdotal that happened while the wine was being made. It personalized the experience and made people aware that the wine they sipped wasn’t just any generic wine, but a drink with a specific history, made by real people.

“This peppery Baco Noir,” she said, finishing her presentation, “is called ‘Just the Beginning’ and it is one of our classic vintages. One summer night almost forty years ago, two lovers walked over the fields behind us, and the man asked the woman he was with to marry him. They didn’t have enough money for rings, but he handed her a small plant, the beginning of the Baco vines from which these grapes still grow. Those people were my parents and, yes, eventually he did buy her a ring,” Abby said warmly, smiling as she did every time she told the story.

A chorus of appreciative comments and chuckles about the ring followed. She discussed nuances, taught newcomers the basics of wine tasting and then moved to the desk where people purchased their wine and other goodies from the small gift display.

It was a good day, and she’d enjoyed her guests. By six, though, she was ready for bed. Her other employees were gone for the day, and they rarely had guests staying in their few upstairs rooms, used mostly for wedding parties in the winter. So, she closed up shop and thought of what needed to be done next.

She did need to get the trees decorated—three gorgeous Fraser firs that graced the tasting room, the entry to the winery and the first floor of the main house. Her home, a private residence, was built off the central rooms where they hosted tastings, receptions and sold their wines. In the back of the property, above the vineyards, were the animal barns and the building where they made and stored the wines. Their specialty was Baco Noir.

The trees were set up, the lights were on, but they needed ornaments, all of which had to be pulled out of storage at the house and carried over. She also needed to take care of her horses for the night.

They no longer had the petting zoo, unfortunately, but Abby could never part with her horses. Riding them along the lake was one of her favorite ways to relax. Her parents had given her these two colts when she was fifteen. As she headed down to the barn and looked out over her land, the sight always took her breath away in any season. Today, there’d been a light snow all day long, and it was shining like diamonds in the moonlight.

This was hers. It was home. Like her parents, she’d love to travel more, but she’d never really wanted to live anywhere but here.

All of the stress and work that went with it was hers, too. Lunch with Hannah yesterday had left her with a lot of food for thought and a lot of worry for the future.

Inside the barn she was greeted by soft, muffled welcomes, and she grabbed feed buckets, hay and fresh water and took care of business, which included much brushing and stroking.

“Hey, babes,” she crooned, feeling guilty that she hadn’t done more than put them out in the field that day. “I promise tomorrow you’ll both get some good exercise. I’ll get Hannah and we’ll see you both early in the morning for a nice ride.”

After long moments of petting warm muzzles and feeling more relaxed than she had when she walked in, she locked the doors and said good-night, turning back toward the house. Her gaze drifted down over the landscape to the Winston property. She noted some lights on in the house, although the winery was dark. Was Reece really going to sell?

She shivered, pulled her thick wool coat tighter around her and stared at the upstairs light. Reece? In his room? Was he there alone? She shivered for a different reason.

She’d been all fired up yesterday, having fun with Hannah, but she was crazy to think she could seduce Reece into … what? Not selling his land? No doubt he would think that was very funny; she was still out of his league, always had been.

But she was going to talk to him. She had no idea what she’d say to try to convince him to hold off, but if he didn’t rush into a sale with Keller, maybe she could help find someone who would buy in with her. It was a huge gambit, but not impossible. Not entirely. She had money saved, and she’d have to mortgage her home to the hilt, but what other choice did she have?

She had to do whatever she could to protect her home and business. Keller would ruin the entire area.

The little hamlet that had sprouted up around the wineries a few miles up the lake from the city of Ithaca offered a coffee shop, a few quaint boutiques, a gas station and a convenience store, and all of her friends were here. Unlike Reece, who had gone away as far as he could as soon as he was able, she’d gone to college locally, at Cornell, and she went down into the city a few times a week. They sold many of their wines in local stores, as well as all over the region.

She wished she could go inside, open a nice bottle of wine, make some dinner and sit in front of the fireplace in the living room, then finish decorating her trees without it feeling like work.

It would be even nicer to not have to do it alone.

Maybe she wouldn’t have to. Biting her lip, she walked faster toward the house and didn’t think too much about what she was contemplating. If she did, she’d lose her nerve.

Entering the warmly lit kitchen that hadn’t changed too much since she’d grown up, she went carefully down the cellar steps to the room where they kept their private stock and grabbed a bottle she had been saving for a special occasion.

Back upstairs, she pulled two glasses from the shelves and a wedge of brie and a few other goodies from the fridge.

The trees could wait. Her talk with Reece could not.

If she didn’t do it now, she’d could lose her chance as well as her nerve. Setting aside her doubts and worries, she started out walking across the land between their homes, a windy half mile, her eyes focused on the lit windows. The snow and moon illuminated everything, making it easy to walk, and she covered the distance quickly. As she neared the house, her eyes focused in on a form in the upstairs window.

Her mouth went dry and she dropped the bottle of wine, which didn’t break, thank goodness, but landed softly in the snow.

She picked it up again and walked closer. It was Reece. He hadn’t pulled a shade or a curtain, thinking—rightly—that no one would be looking in his windows from the field side of the house.

He was nude. Completely. Stretching his arms up over his head, and then bending at the waist, she couldn’t see everything, but she saw enough to make her heart slam against her rib cage as he did something that looked very much like yoga.

He was strong. Muscled, but graceful in his movements.

Gorgeous.

She forgot to move forward, entranced, but then as she realized where she was and what she was doing, she averted her eyes—though she couldn’t erase what she’d seen. How could she? The strong line of his back, the muscles of his shoulders and arms were stunning. She could imagine running her hands over him and wondered what it would be like to have those slim, strong hips settling in between her legs….

“Oh, no,” she said to herself, breathless with lust, her hands trembling as she almost dropped the wine again.

She hovered for a second on the porch. Reece was home, alone and naked, and she was standing here at his front door with a bottle of wine. Her courage flagged. Maybe she should talk to him another time, like during the light of day, or at a bar with a lot of other people around.

Don’t be a coward, Abby, she scolded herself. She sucked in a deep breath and pressed the doorbell before she could change her mind.

REECE STEPPED GINGERLY out of the shower, wrapping a large towel around his waist, wincing from the pain in his left leg, where pins and needles shot back and forth along his thigh, causing weakness in his stance.

Each pinprick was like an individual jab, reminding him that he couldn’t get in a race car again and do the thing that he loved most. Headaches had come back earlier that afternoon as well, and he’d spent most of the day on the sofa with an ice pack.

What if this never went away? What if they never signed off on letting him race again? At this point, doctors gave him a fifty-fifty shot, but he had to be one hundred percent, his reflexes perfect, completely reliable before he could race.

The betrayal of having his own body prevent him from doing what he loved most was utterly unacceptable. He’d gotten through the worst of it, and he’d defeat this, too. There was no alternative other than … what? Staying here?

Not an option.

Crossing the hall, he walked into the guest room and dried off. His mother had long ago, with his blessing, turned his old room into a place where she did her sewing and other crafts. He came home for holidays and a few short vacations but not often enough for his parents to have preserved his room. At the moment, he was glad they hadn’t. He’d been feeling strangely sentimental about the old place, and that wasn’t like him. He supposed it was because of the close call with his dad. Almost losing someone—as well as almost losing your own life—made you see things differently.

He loved his family, but this was just a house, he reminded himself. A building. One he couldn’t get away from fast enough when he’d been a teenager looking for something more exciting.

He started going through the stretching routine that he’d been taught by his last physical therapist to relieve the pins and needles. Focusing on his breathing, his form, he drove away unwanted thoughts. The hot shower had helped loosen him up, but it still hurt like hell at first to push through the moves and hold them, though the symptoms lessened after a few repetitions.

He felt better as he relaxed, going through the rest of his exercises for good measure. He’d talked to his neurologist earlier in the day for the umpteenth time, and he had been reassured yet again that it was all normal.

Easy for him to say.

Reece turned to grab a pair of jeans when the ring of the doorbell caught him by surprise. Who would be here now?

Surely not Charles with someone to see the house. No one had called.

Pulling on his jeans and grabbing a shirt, he rushed down the stairs and pulled open the door, unable to believe his eyes.

“Abby?”

He took in her pink cheeks and tousled hair, and stepped back, inviting her in as the frosty air nipped at his bare toes.

“C’mon in. It’s freezing out there,” he said.

“Thanks, it is,” she said, moving quickly. Her eyes flew to his chest. He hadn’t had time to completely button his shirt.

“Oh, sorry … just got out of the shower.”

Her cheeks turned even pinker and she didn’t meet his eyes. He wondered why she was here holding wine, two glasses and some other foods.

Reece prompted her again. “What’s all this?” he asked, looking down at the stuff she still held in her arms. One glass was tenuously dangling from her fingertips.

“Let me take that for you,” he offered, and reached forward to take the flute. When his fingers caught with hers around the stem, her hand jerked away and they fumbled the glass, nearly dropping the fragile crystal.

Reece frowned. “Are you okay?”

She finally smiled. “Yes, I’m fine. Sorry to intrude on your evening, but I saw your lights on and felt like some company. You said you wanted to have a drink, so …” She shrugged, holding up the bottle. “Unless this is a bad time?”

He remembered saying something about having a drink when he’d seen her at the restaurant. This wasn’t exactly what he meant, but maybe it was better.

He’d had a rough day, and having a bottle of wine with a pretty woman might be exactly what he needed.

“It’s a perfect time, actually. I’m really glad you decided to stop by,” he said, smiling and taking the rest of the things she was holding so that she could shuck her jacket. “You walked all the way over, in the dark?”

“It wasn’t that dark, with the snow and the moon. Very nice, actually,” she said lightly, handing him her coat just as she met his eyes and a spark flared as his hand touched hers.

She shifted uncomfortably, looking away and turning pink again. Reece didn’t remember her being so … wait.

She’d come across the field on the side of the house where the guest room was. Where he’d been doing his stretching, with the curtains open. With no clothes on. He never closed the drapes, since no one was likely to be lurking out in the fields

Silence hung at the end of her comment, and he had to smother a smile. She had to have seen him. Reece wasn’t shy and had to resist the urge to tease her about it.

So Abby was bit of a voyeur? It didn’t bother him. He’d be happy to let her look all she liked, he thought, his grin breaking loose as he turned away to hang her coat.

Maybe this evening would go even better than he thought.

“Grab that bottle and we can go put the food together in the kitchen, then sit by the fire,” he said casually, though he wasn’t feeling casual at all. All of his worries were pushed back by a surge of unexpected lust, and it felt great. He wanted to hold on to it, ride it and see where it took him.

“Oh, that would be nice,” she said, walking with him to the kitchen. Dressed in jeans and a sweater that accentuated her curves, he leaned forward and pulled something from her hair. He could swear she sucked in a breath when he did, becoming perfectly still.

Hmm.

He presented a straw of hay to her with a smile. “Been down with your horses, I take it?”

She rolled her eyes and snatched the hay from his hand, but couldn’t hold back a laugh, which made her even prettier. He’d always thought she was pretty, even as a little girl, but now … she was incredible. She always looked so natural and fresh, and he wondered what her skin tasted like.

“Yes, I was closing them up for the night when I saw your lights on my way back from the barn.”

“Do you still have just the two? Buttercup and Beau?”

She paused, looking surprised that he remembered. He was a little surprised, too.

“Yes. Wow, you know their names,” she said bluntly, taking the plate he handed her to open the brie so they could heat it up in the small toaster oven he pointed to.

“Why so surprising? We went to the same school, rode the same bus,” he said. “Must’ve just stuck in my mind, I guess.”

“Huh. I didn’t think you knew I was alive unless you were poking at me about something,” she said, and it was his turn to be a little surprised.

“I always liked you. I teased you, sure, but did you feel like I picked on you? Really?” A small frown creased his lips. He didn’t like thinking he had hurt Abby’s feelings or been mean to her.

Taking the food, they made their way to the main room and set the dishes down on the coffee table, placing a platter with green grapes, crackers and apples and the warmed brie between them. All perfect to go with the Baco, but Reece waited for her answer before moving to the fire.

She looked him in the eye and sighed lightly. “Well, you have to admit, aside from teasing me or pulling my hair, you didn’t give me reason to think you knew I existed, let alone that you would remember details of my life.”

“Hmm,” he said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin slowly. “I remember some things very clearly,” he said with a teasing wink.

“You can’t even resist now, can you?” she said accusingly, but a smile twitched at her lips.

She remembered what happened between them that night at the lake as clearly as he did, he’d bet. And, no, he wasn’t sure he could resist, or wanted to. But there was time. He backed away, letting it drop for now.

“Let me put a few more logs on the fire and we can eat. Suddenly I’m starving.”

He was, though he wasn’t sure the food on the plate was what he had a taste for, but it would have to be enough for the moment.

They spent the next two hours eating and talking in front of the crackling fire, when Abby suddenly looked around the room.

“You don’t have a tree or any Christmas decorations up,” she observed.

He shrugged. “There hasn’t been any time, or much point, I guess. I’m the only one here, and Charles, the real estate agent, thought it was better to show the place without a lot of decorations. Let people imagine their own lives here and all that.”

“Oh,” she remarked, her expression turning serious. “That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about,” she said carefully.

“Christmas decorations?”

“No, that you’re selling. I was hoping—”

Reece put a hand up. “Abby, I’d be happy to sit down and talk business with you at some point. But not right now, okay?”

“But—”

“It’s been kind of a tough day. I’d really like to relax, catch up with an old friend,” he said.

He geniunely didn’t want to talk business with Abby. He knew she’d want to convince him not to sell, or something like that, and he didn’t want to discuss that with her. It was a done deal, and that conversation was sure to put a damper on the heat building between them.

She bit her lip and looked reluctant, but nodded. “I can understand that,” she said, looking down at her wine. “I know things must have been hard for you this year,” she said vaguely, inviting him to say more, but he didn’t want to talk about any of that, either. Maybe that wasn’t fair, but he needed a night off from all of it.

“Yeah,” he said, and changed the subject. “But how about you? You live in the house alone now?”

Nothing like discreet fishing before you tried to seduce an old friend, he thought. Hopefully there wasn’t another guy in the picture, though looking at her, it was hard to believe they weren’t lined up.

She shook her head, and his relief was immediate.

“Nope, just me now. Sarah retired, and Mom and Dad are traveling all over the world. I still have a small part-time staff, of course, to help me get things done, but I handle most of it myself.”

“They don’t come home for the holidays? Your parents?”

“It would be difficult. They send gifts, and we video conference on the computer a lot. Last year they were in India, helping local people build a school. This winter, they’ve been helping down in Haiti.”

“Really? I thought they were tourists now?”

“They mix their pleasure travel with activism. It’s just their way, and they have always been more like explorers than tourists.”

He nodded, smiling. “I remember.”

“I know what they’re doing is important, and I’m a big girl. We’re busy enough through the holidays that being alone at Christmas gives me a quiet day or two to relax, read, sleep in, that kind of thing.”

“Your parents were always so progressive,” he said admiringly, but really he was thinking about Abby sleeping in, under the covers, warm and soft, curled up in something slinky with a book. Then he imagined taking the book out of her hands and slipping the lacy bit of nothing from her shoulder….

“Reece?” she said, and he realized he had gone blank, lost in his fantasy. “Are you okay?”

She seemed worried, and it bothered him. Of all the people he didn’t want worrying if he was healthy and ready to go, she was first on the list at the moment.

“Sorry. You just made me remember that summer when your parents decided to try to add selling goat cheese to the winery business, and all of the goats got loose one weekend and ate some of my dad’s vines,” he lied, unable to look away from her face. Her eyes had landed on the scar behind his ear—the skin graft had healed, but it was visible. Did it bother her?

The definite sparkle of interest in her eyes said no, he assumed.

She laughed then, breaking the bond. “He was pretty nice about it, considering.”

Her honey-brown hair was soft and slightly curled, pushed back in a haphazard way that made him want to reach out and weave his hands into it. She didn’t wear makeup, which he found refreshing. She didn’t need to. Her skin was flawless, her cheeks pink and kissable. And those lips …

“Did you ever wonder?” he heard himself ask.

Her cheeks turned rosy again, her lips parting slightly, as if she knew exactly where his mind had gone.

“Wonder what?”

He paused. They’d had a nice evening, two old friends talking over high school times and getting reacquainted. Did he really want to step into other waters? He was only back for a month or so, or however long it took to sell the winery. And the faster, the better. Abby wasn’t one of his pit stops.

The women he knew in Europe were aware of his commitment-free lifestyle, his focus on his racing. They knew the score. They also had their own agendas, liking to be seen with a well-known driver, having their picture show up in the next day’s entertainment news.

Abby had no agenda. She was just … Abby.

He still had to ask the question.

“What it might have been like if we didn’t stop that night at the lake?” he said and noted the slight catch in her breath, but she didn’t look away.

“Sure, I wondered,” she said simply.

“I was about to ask you out, back then, when you took off,” he admitted.

“You were?”

“Yeah. I wanted to know what it would be like to be with you, for real,” he said. “I always liked you, Abby. A lot.”

“Oh” was her only response, sounding slightly breathless. He took that as a good sign and plunged ahead.

“Still want to find out?” he said, in spite of every bit of better judgment he had.

Her eyes widened in surprise and she stood suddenly, setting down her wine, her movements fluttering and nervous.

“I should go. We’re just tired. There’s the fire and the wine, and it’s easy to be caught up in old times, but really … I should go,” she repeated, and walked to the door.

Reece shot up, moving after her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, catching her arm, turning her to him. “I didn’t mean to scare you off.”

He wasn’t sure if he was talking about eight years ago or two minutes ago. He was sure he didn’t want her walking out the door.

They were close, and she looked up at him, her eyes somber.

“Listen, Reece, as much as I might be … curious, too, it wouldn’t be a good idea—”

“You’re curious?” His mind selectively honed in on the one thing he wanted to hear and he stepped closer. “About me?”

She licked her lips nervously, making his cock jerk, semihard already, against the rough fabric of his jeans. In his hurry, he hadn’t even pulled on briefs, so all that held him back was a bit of thin fabric.

“I—” She had started to say something, but he saw the pulse beating hard at the base of her throat, the desire in her eyes.

“What else are you curious about, Abby? I seem to remember you liked the excitement of being there, by the hedge, in public. Are you still up for that kind of adventure?”

He remembered how aroused she had been, and it had been just as hot for him, too. Did she still want that?

Reece liked risk, too. Hell, it defined him. He also had fantasies that not all of his lovers had satisfied.

What kind of sex was Abby into? He knew about her fondness for public places. Bondage, maybe? Something more creative? Role-play, perhaps?

He wanted to find out, imagining Abby tied to his bed or dressed in black leather. What if she wanted him tied up?

He could probably live with that. He was open to anything short of real pain or multiple partners—Reece wasn’t sharing Abby with anyone.

“Let’s just see, Abby, what it could be like between us,” he said, needing to know and pulling her to him, his hands traveling up her back and into her hair, as he’d thought about.

It was like silk. He wanted to feel it trailing over his stomach and his thighs, her mouth on him.

The thought made his kiss less introductory, less tentative, than it might have been otherwise. He took her soft lips and opened her wider, invading and rubbing his tongue against hers with a deep moan. She felt so right, like she had before, but better, the flames leaping between them.

Her arms went around his neck, and she rubbed back with her tongue, her lips and the rest of her body as she strained against him.

Green flag, he thought, but resisted accelerating, instead maintaining the steady heat of the kiss, learning her taste, her touch, until neither of them could take it any longer.

When her hands started undoing the buttons on his shirt, he walked her back against the wall by the window, pressing his hardness against her, moving his hands up to cover her breasts. She was firm and soft in his palms, the nipples budding hard.

Touching wasn’t enough, he needed to taste.

Moving his hands up under her sweater, he set the flimsy lace of her bra aside and bent to take one tight, beaded nipple in his mouth. He drew on it hard, murmuring encouragingly as she arched away from the wall, her hand at the back of his head, keeping him there.

He replaced his lips with his fingers, rolling the warm buds between his thumb and forefinger as he kissed her again, wanting to be everywhere at once.

He stood back, staring down into her flushed face, her passion-drenched eyes, raising a finger to touch lips that now looked like crushed cherries.

“Abby, I want you, but …” He let the question hang. He wanted her, but he’d back off now if she wanted him to, no matter what.

“Yes, please,” she said, her breathing short and hard.

She was incredibly sweet. He planned to take his time with her, he thought, and pressed her back, sliding a thigh between her legs, pinning her to the wall. He wanted to make her come as many times as he could before he got inside her, because once he was, he knew he wouldn’t last long. Not this first time.

He took her lips again and massaged those pretty breasts with both hands, moving against her until she was whimpering and grinding against him. Without warning, she arched, coming hard, moaning into his mouth as she rode it out. And he didn’t even get her clothes off yet, he thought with raw hunger, wanting more.

He pulled back, taking in her bemused expression, the surprised satisfaction he saw there making him swell harder.

He thought she might be shy, embarrassed, but she linked her arms around his neck and leaned in, nipping at his lower lip.

“More” was all she said as she looked him in the eye.

“Oh, honey,” he choked out. “There’s plenty more.”

Swinging her up into his arms, he turned to take her back to the fireplace, planning to dim the lights and strip that sweater off in the warm glow of the flames, when he stopped, his gaze drawn out the window.

He stared, uncertain what had caught his eye, but a bad feeling overcame him and he let Abby slide to her feet. He walked closer to the window that looked out over the field.

“Reece? What is it?”

Sirens screamed in the distance, and the glow in the air over the field that had attracted his attention was not a figment of his imagination. Her winery was on fire.




3


ABBY RESTED HER HEAD against Buttercup’s soft neck and just thanked the heavens that the barns hadn’t caught fire, too. That was something she couldn’t even bear to think about.

Her house was badly damaged, unlivable after water from the hoses had ruined what fire had not, but the main rooms of the winery were reduced to cinders. The horse seemed to nuzzle her in comfort as she tried to hold her tears back, but couldn’t, sobs racking her body.

What now?

The flickering light that she’d been trying to have fixed ended up being wires that the fire investigator said were probably chewed through by a mouse or squirrel in the wall. When the tree lights had been plugged in, she hadn’t thought twice about it, but the circuit had been overloaded and started the fire. It had spread inside the walls before consuming the entire winery.

If she’d been home, she might have been killed if she had been sleeping or overcome with smoke, although she had detectors everywhere. On the other hand, if she had been there, she might have been able to call the fire department sooner, and maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad, such a complete loss.

Instead, she’d been at Reece’s, in his arms, ready to say yes to anything he asked, while her family’s legacy burned to the ground.

She had to get away from the swarm of people. The firemen were still keeping watch, even though the fire was officially out, the insurance and other investigators were there, along with some neighbors, friends … and Reece. Everyone wanted to help, but she’d insisted on being alone for just a few minutes.

She needed the peace to think about what she would say to her parents, how she could tell them what happened.

Guilt assailed her. How could she explain why she hadn’t been there? That she’d been so busy, and so distracted by thoughts of Reece, that she hadn’t thought twice about the tree lights or the electrical problem?

She groaned, standing straight, wiping the tears away. No time for this now.

She had to get the insurance settled and cancel the wedding they’d been planning—that would be another tough phone call. The couple wouldn’t likely find another venue with only weeks until the wedding, but there wasn’t anything she could do about that. Abby would have to refund their deposits. That was going to hurt.

She’d see if Hannah would let her move in for a while, though it would mean driving back and forth to Ithaca daily, or maybe her insurance would pick up a room at the local inn, for a while at least.

“I thought you might be down here,” a familiar voice said behind her.

“Hannah,” she said, trying to sound normal, but her voice cracked under the weight of her exhaustion, being up all night, dealing with it all.

Hannah was across the barn, holding her arms out and Abby didn’t hesitate.

She held on to her friend, just for a minute, but it was Reece’s arms she knew she’d been seeking. Remembering how good it had been, not just the sexual part, but the way he’d held her against his hard chest later, when they’d watched the firemen work, had kept her from losing it altogether. She wanted that comfort back.

No, no, no. That was how she’d gotten into this mess, sort of.

“You okay?” Hannah asked, stepping back and smiling as two of the barn cats wound their way around her ankles.

“Yeah. I’m just so thankful the barns are far away from the house,” she said, stroking Beau’s silky nose. All of the animals were okay.

“That is a good thing,” Hannah agreed, chuckling softly as Buttercup snorted happily in response to more scratching. “Everything else can be replaced. It was a straightforward electrical fire. The insurance agent is already on it. Things can be rebuilt.”

“True, but I don’t know if that will be enough,” Abby said, too discouraged to be optimistic. “They can’t start rebuilding until after winter, which means we’re not only losing the Christmas events, but the spring wedding season and tastings as well. We lost almost all of the Riesling casks. With Reece selling, this could just be a killer blow,” Abby said tightly, her throat constricting at the thought.

“How am I going to tell Mom and Dad? I feel so much like I’ve let them down,” Abby said, sucking in more tears.

Hannah knew just what to do to drive the tears away.

“Speaking of Reece … he seemed awfully involved in helping you last night. And I couldn’t help but notice when we went inside that at first his shirt wasn’t buttoned up quite right. You know, like it had been put back together in a rush,” she said, with mischief in her tone that made Abby’s tears completely evaporate.

Abby groaned. Did everyone know where she’d been and what she was doing?

As if reading her mind, Hannah added, “He said he saw the fire from his house, got dressed and rushed down to help. Don’t worry—he didn’t give anything away, though I sure hope you’re going to share details with your very best friend in the whole wide world, right? You know, about why Reece was really getting dressed?”

Unbelievably, Abby had to laugh. Leave it to Hannah, even in the middle of utter loss. When all Abby had left was this barn and what was in it, her friend found a way to lighten the mood.

Reece had been wonderful. He hadn’t left her side until Hannah had arrived. He jumped in, talking to the firemen, police and the other people milling around, even opening up the main room of his winery for people to come in, get warm and have coffee. At some moment when she’d been talking to the fire investigator, Abby had lost track of him and assumed he had gone back home.

“Thanks, I needed that,” she said, taking a breath and feeling a bit better. “And there aren’t many details to share. Not really. I went down to Reece’s, brought some wine, hoping to talk … one thing lead to another, but before it went too far, he noticed the fire. That was pretty much it,” she said, shrugging.

“Oh, I doubt that’s it. The man’s interested—he couldn’t take his eyes off you, especially when that hunky fireman was talking to you, and standing a little too close, by the way,” Hannah said.

“You’re imagining things. Reece was just helping out. We’re old friends and we shared a moment—instigated by a bottle of wine. It’s best forgotten. I have enough to worry about now.” Abby’s attention snapped to the barn doors, where outside, she heard a woman’s voice, and then sharp, shrieking words. She couldn’t make out what was being said, but several colorful curses punctuated the diatribe.

Abby headed out of the barn to find Sandra Towers, the Christmas bride-to-be, standing in the middle of the yard in front of the blackened mess of Abby’s winery, wild-eyed and in tears. She spotted Abby then and marched across the lawn, obviously ready for a confrontation.

Great, just what she needed right now. Abby sighed. She shouldn’t bothered with having quiet time in the barn. She should have been on the phone doing damage control.

Too late, she admitted, as Sandra met her, almost standing nose-to-nose, and Abby backed up slightly.

“Sandra, I am so sorry. I was about to make phone calls—”

“I saw this on the news and couldn’t believe it. I had to see for myself. This is a nightmare! How could you let this happen?” the prospective bride yelled, clearly not thinking straight.

Abby tried to be patient. This was hard on everyone, and brides were under a lot of stress in general. Sandra wasn’t finished, obviously.

“What am I going to do? The invitations are all sent! Everything is scheduled! How are you going to fix this?” she demanded, and Abby pulled in a deep breath, closing her eyes, reaching for patience.

“Sandra, I know it’s terrible, and I wish there was better news, but I’ll definitely refund all of your down payment and try to help you find another—”

“The wedding is twenty-five days away! There is no other place,” the young woman wailed. “I know, I checked them all. We have family coming in from Europe! You had better fix this or … or … we’ll sue!”

Abby was quite sure the normally pleasant woman was just distraught, and also was sure—mostly—that she had no basis for a lawsuit whatsoever. Still, it was hard to remain calm, and she was digging her nails into her palms in her effort to do so.

Suddenly, Reece appeared, putting his large hand on her shoulder. She looked up in surprise, noting the circles under his eyes. He was obviously exhausted, too.

“Abby, could I talk to you for a minute?” he said politely. “Excuse us for just a moment,” he said to Sandra with a smile. Amazingly, the young woman didn’t pitch yet another fit.

Abby walked with him to a spot about twenty feet away and wondered how she could still feel his touch when she was wearing her coat and he had put on a pair of heavy gloves. Maybe the same way she’d had a scream-worthy orgasm against his thigh—apparently clothes were not a barrier to sex with Reece Winston.




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