Heidi Rice - Back in His Bed

“Jack, I…I mean we shouldn’t. Can’t.” She didn’t know exactly what she was trying to say, but weak protest was better than none at all.

Jack’s voice rumbled through her. “But we can. And you know you want to.” The tickling fingers became a warm caress as his palm moved over the dip in her waist to the plane of her lower back.

Be strong. Brenna inhaled, filling her starved lungs with oxygen and the enticing smell that was uniquely Jack. Now step away. The signal to her feet to move got lost in transit as Jack’s arm began to encircle her.

She was wavering, and she hated herself for it. What harm could it do? her body argued.

A lot , her heart responded.

Hundreds of reasons—solid, rational reasons—why this would be a mistake raced through her mind, but that didn’t stop her from taking a step closer to him. Jack’s fingers tightened on her back, urging her closer still, until she could feel the hairs on his chest tickling faintly across her skin.

Brenna’s brain felt foggy, and she lifted her hand to his chest to create a barrier. Jack inhaled sharply at her touch, and the muscle under his skin jumped in response.

Just a taste.

Jack’s hand came up to lift her chin, angling it for his kiss, and reality intruded one last time. She’d regret this either way, but which choice would she regret more?

His mouth was almost on hers when she clasped her hand around his wrist. She could feel the heavy beat of his pulse under her fingers, matching the thumping in her chest. Jack’s cheek slid across hers as she turned her face away.

“You want me, Bren. I can feel it,” Jack whispered.

Oh, he was so right about that. And she could feel how much he wanted her. All she had to do was say yes…

“I’ll make this easier for you.” Jack kissed her temple, then moved to her ear, his breath sending shivers down her spine. “Give me tonight, and I’ll give you the winery.”

Jack heard her sharp gasp a second before her hands landed on his chest and pushed him forcefully away from her. Anger hardened her jaw as her fingers flexed, then curled into a fist. Closing her eyes with the effort, she lowered her hand to her side.

When she opened her eyes, the heat blasted him. “Are you kidding me?”

Her anger cut through the last of the sensual haze that had snared him and had to have been the source of his offer. The thought of simply giving her the winery had crossed his mind briefly, as a quick and easy way out of this unholy mess, but he hadn’t entertained it seriously. After all, as Brenna had pointed out, business was built into his DNA, and giving one away wasn’t exactly approved business practice.

But the offer was out there now, even if he didn’t know what had possessed him to make it. “I’m serious, Brenna.” He held the stare, watching as Brenna moved from anger, to shock, through disbelief, and finally settled on outrage. He wasn’t going to back pedal, not even as he watched the angry flush creep up Brenna’s neck as her temper boiled. Even with indignation radiating off her in waves he burned for her. His fingers itched to touch her again, to feel that smooth skin quiver in pleasure and desire. He knew her taste, and the craving was awakened, familiar and frustrating at the same time.

It would give her the excuse she needed to give in to the desire he knew she felt without recriminations in the morning. He’d be able to get Brenna out of his system and break their stalemate over the winery at the same time. Win-win all around.

“Oh. My. God. ” Brenna took another step back, shaking her head in disbelief. As her shoulders tensed, he braced for the full blast of her temper.

But the blow-up didn’t come. Her anger seemed to drain away as quickly as it had flared. She moved to the table and perched on the edge, her hands folded against her chin. “I always thought we’d hit every low possible, but this is a new one.” Her shoulders slumped as the last of the ire went out of her voice, and she laughed hollowly. “It’s a hell of an offer, Jack. Prostituting myself in order to keep my vineyard. It’s appropriate, though. I’m screwed no matter what I do.”

Put like that, his proposition sounded tawdry, instead of expedient yet pleasurable for them both. “If you want to look at it that way—”

“There’s another way?” she scoffed. “If I sign off on the sale I get you out of my life permanently, but I gain God-only-knows-who as a partner, and there’s no telling what that will do to my business. If I don’t sign off on the sale you’ll make my life hell in a multitude of interesting ways.” Brenna started to pace, her hands moving in agitated circles as she talked. “So I can sleep with you, throwing away what little self-respect I still have, but gaining my business free and clear. In theory, that sounds really great—except I’ve already told you that I need your name backing me for a while.”

She finally faced him, her hands on her hips, her chest heaving under her skimpy bikini top. The anger was back. “Tell me, exactly what other way there is to look at it. The way where I’m not screwed, personally and professionally?”

Wide-eyed and expectant, she glared at him, waiting for an answer. He didn’t have one readily available. He’d backed her into a corner, and she had no graceful means of escape. The professors from his MBA program would be proud—hell, Max would be proud—of his use of the time-honored strategy of putting his adversary into a position where he definitely had the upper hand in the negotiations.

Except putting Brenna there didn’t bring the satisfaction it would in any other situation.

As the silence stretched out Brenna’s breathing turned ragged, and he saw the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She closed her eyes again and took a deep breath, as if she were trying to pull herself together and hold the tears at bay.

The action stabbed him in the chest, as he’d never seen her tear up before. Brenna didn’t cry. She exploded, she shouted, she slammed doors, and she even sulked occasionally, but she didn’t cry.

He’d pushed her too far this time. Considering their past, that was an accomplishment in itself. Their marriage had fallen apart and she’d never shed a single tear. Hell, she’d sat dry-eyed and stoic through her own mother’s funeral. But her beloved damn winery brought out the waterworks. Astonishing and insulting, but he still felt like a snake.

Neither of them had a graceful escape route, but he could try to defuse the situation. It wasn’t easy—not with his body still wired and ready to finish what he’d started—but he managed a toneless “Forget it, Bren. Chalk the offer up to temporary insanity.”

Brenna’s eyes flew open, widening in shock as her jaw dropped. She looked as if she’d just been slapped. “What?”

“I said forget it.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Brenna’s hackles were back up, but it beat her tears. “You can’t toy with me like that and then just walk away. Things have changed, Jack. I won’t let you hurt me again.”

Where had this come from? “Hurt you?”

“Maybe you can keep things in little boxes, all compartmentalized in your head, but I can’t. You can’t come out here and turn me inside out and expect me to just take it. You broke my heart once, Jack. I’m finished crying over you.”

Her? Heartbroken? Crying? She’d walked out dry-eyed and never looked back. “You left me, Bren. Don’t forget that.”

Her mouth twisted. “Yes, and you were kind enough to order a ride for me while I packed.”

“What, exactly, was I supposed to do? You said you were miserable and that you wanted to go home. I couldn’t force you to stay.”