Heidi Rice - Back in His Bed

“Then Max started spending even more time out here and less in the city,” he continued, as if he didn’t know how she was having trouble following along, “and the company took over my life. What little free time I had left I wasn’t going to spend it out here, regardless.”

Suddenly she realized that for the first time since…well, since the beginning of the end, there was no anger underlying Jack’s words. While that absence calmed her guilty conscience, and the part of her that was always so on edge whenever she so much as thought of him, she wasn’t deaf to the other heat adding weight to his words. That heat her body recognized immediately, even though she hadn’t heard it in years. To her great embarrassment her breasts began to tingle and a familiar ache settled in her core.

It was gratifying to know that after everything Jack wasn’t completely immune to her. That he didn’t hate her enough to make his body forget what had brought them together in the first place. Her skin felt flushed, and she hoped the steam and the hot water would take the blame.

But she couldn’t lose focus. This conversation was too important. His concise explanation didn’t quite explain as much as his casual demeanor implied. “But Max always…” She stopped herself, unwilling to say the words.

Jack looked at her closely. “You think Max blamed you?”

She nodded. “He had to. He was so disappointed after the divorce.”

“Max didn’t like having his plans thwarted. He had this whole hotel-slash-winery empire planned, and you managed to accomplish the one thing he couldn’t do—made me give a damn about this place. The divorce put him back at zero—at least until he came up with this ridiculous scheme. Max didn’t blame you for the divorce, Bren. He saved all the blame for me.”

Jack didn’t sound bitter, just matter-of-fact. If anything, it made her feel worse about the situation. “Then I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry I caused a rift between you and Max.”

“Quit apologizing. You didn’t cause anything. You were just a handy excuse.”

Just an excuse? No way. “There’s got to be more to it than that. Your relationship with Max—”

“Has nothing to do with the current situation.” He brushed her words aside with a wave of his hand.

She pulled her legs up to her chest and hugged them. The stress she’d come out here to alleviate was building instead. Hot tub jets were no match for the knots Jack caused, but the stress was much less disturbing than her inappropriate tingling. “Then why? If it’s not because of me and it’s not because of Max, then why do you want to sell so badly?”

She worked up the courage to look at him then, but he didn’t look angry. More like resigned and tired of talking about it. “How many times do I have to say it? I don’t want to own a winery. I know that’s an alien concept for you, because you do , but not everyone has a burning desire to make wine. You need to get off the property more. Expand your circle of friends and see there’s a whole world out there not obsessed with grapes.”

There it was. The snide remark. The dismissive tone. She should have known it was coming instead of being lulled by his civility and the intimate atmosphere caused by their surroundings and the conversation. She needed more space, and she pushed herself out of the steaming water. The air felt chilly against her heated skin but did nothing to cool her rising temper. “God, you’re such a jerk.”

Jack had the nerve to look taken aback. “What now?”

The tingle thankfully disappeared as old resentments bubbled up. This was much easier. “You. Acting so superior and condescending. Little Brenna is so sheltered and naïve, she couldn’t possibly know any better.”

“You can’t deny you’ve been sheltered out here. You used to admit that readily.”

She started to pace in agitation. “Maybe. That doesn’t mean I’m naïve. Just because I never went to college…”

Jack pushed out of the water as well and sat on the edge of the tub. “That was your decision. UC Davis would have let you in.”

“Only because my last name was Garrett at the time. And why would I spend all that time at school for them to teach me what I already knew about wine-making?”

“You might have enjoyed it. Or you could have gone to a different school and studied something else.”

Now a pang of old hurt joined the resentment. “Oh, I’m so sorry my lack of formal education was such an embarrassment in front of your snobby city friends.”

“Having interests other than grapes makes them snobs?”

“No, looking down on people makes them snobs.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “ You should know from all the practice you’ve had.”

Jack ran his hands through his hair in exasperation. “Why are we having this fight again? We’re not married anymore.”

And they’d just run through many of the reasons why. Again. “Thank goodness for that.” She reached for her wine glass and drank deeply.

“If anyone’s a snob, Brenna, it’s you.”

She choked on her wine. “What? Hardly.”

Jack stood and walked to within an inch of her. “You’re a wine snob. All that ‘fruit of the vine, nectar of the gods’ garbage. It gets old. And quite boring.”

The comment stung, but she stood her ground. “Gee, I’m sheltered, naïve, snobbish and boring—and you’re an overbearing, condescending jerk with a superiority complex. I don’t know how we ever ended up together in the first place.”

She regretted the words the moment they left her lips. When would she learn not to wave the red flag in front of the bull just because she was angry?

Jack’s eyes lit alarmingly and traced a path down her body, leaving her skin tingling again in their wake. How had she forgotten she was practically naked? And that he was, too? Her nipples tightened against the fabric of her bikini, and a slow half-smile crossed Jack’s face. “Oh, I think you remember why, Bren,” he said quietly. “I know I do.”

His husky voice moved through her and every nerveending came to life. She was close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. A rush of desire slammed into her, making her knees wobble and her heart beat faster. Damn him. “D-don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not. This has always been the subject.” He traced a finger over her collarbone and down the top of her arm. Gooseflesh rose up in its wake, and a shiver moved through her. “We’ve always had this.”

“Jack, don’t.” Her voice sounded breathy and unsteady even to her, but she couldn’t pull away from the tease of his touch or the promise in his voice. Her body screamed for more, and all she’d have to do would be to take a tiny step forward…

No. She closed her eyes, blocking the sight of temptation, but her other senses were still under assault and she swayed on her feet. Sex wouldn’t solve anything. It never had , she reminded herself. They’d been down this path many, many times. Fight bitterly, then have fabulous make-up sex. It never made anything better. In this case it could only make things worse. More complicated.

She had to remember that, no matter how much her body begged to differ. No matter how strong the ache was.

No matter how much she wanted him.

She knew what his hands could do to her, remembered the feel of his skin against hers. And from the fire in Jack’s eyes she knew he was remembering as well. A tiny shiver of desire rippled through her.

His finger finished its slow path down her arm and now tickled across the sensitive skin of her waist, over her stomach, where butterflies battered her insides.