A Sure Thing?

Chapter 8

Matt awoke to a shaft of early-morning light gilding the room. His senses all engaged simultaneously, all of them registering the same thing: Jilly.

Jilly's warm body sprawled across his as he lay on his back. The feel of Jilly's hand resting on his chest, directly over the spot where his heart beat. The soft curve of Jilly's hip beneath his palm. The sensation of Jilly's shapely thigh hooked over his legs. Jilly's unique scent, spiced with the heady musk of their spent passion. Jilly's round, coral-tipped breasts pressed against his side. Jilly's warm breath blowing gently over his ribs. Jilly's shiny tangle of hair spread across his torso.

He rubbed one of those midnight curls between his thumb and forefinger, instantly recalling an image of his hands tunneled through those lustrous strands, his erection buried deep in her body, his name sighing from her lips as they shared another round of heart-stopping lovemaking.

Heart stopping. That's exactly what it had been. Intense. Incredible. In a way he couldn't describe, because it was completely unfamiliar. He felt like he'd just parachuted down into a foreign country without benefit of so much as a freakin' map.

It was as if everything he'd ever felt for a woman before was suddenly magnified a hundredfold, rendering every woman who'd come before Jilly pale in comparison. It was one thing to be turned on by her but, hell, he hadn't expected to be so turned on. Or so enthralled by her touch. Or so captivated by her smile. Attracted to her sense of humor and fierce need for independence. Fascinated by the flashes of mischief in her eyes. Damn it, he just hadn't expected to be so completely captured by everything about her.

Where were all these unwanted… feelings coming from? He liked her. Admired her. Wanted to learn all about her. In and out of bed.

He drew a deep breath. Oh, man. This was bad. Really bad. Definitely not the way this weekend was supposed to go down. He and Jilly were supposed to share a few laughs, a few orgasms, then-badda-bing-back to work as usual.

Well, one night in her arms left him no doubt that there was no chance in hell of that happening because there was no way he'd be able to put this weekend behind him and pretend it hadn't happened. Not when the taste of her, the feel and scent of her, the sound of her moaning his name as she found her release in his arms, were all permanently etched in his mind.

You're an idiot, his pain-in-the-ass inner voice said, in a disgusted tone. You never should have slept with her.

Great. Now you tell me.

Hey, I tried to tell you before you hit the sheets that this had "mistake of Godzilla-size proportions" tattooed all over it, his inner voice interjected. But did you listen to me, Hormone-Man? Nooooo. You let this chick get your boxers all in a wad and now you've started something that will land you right back in the same mess you found yourself in with Tricia-sleeping with the enemy.

He squeezed his eyes shut and banished the voice. Okay, indulging in sex with Jilly hadn't been smart, especially since he had the uncomfortable feeling that something much more significant than just sex had passed between them. But he wouldn't make the same mistakes he'd made with Tricia. No way. Forewarned was forearmed. This time he knew going in that the woman he was dealing with was ambitious and badly wanted the same account he did.

Yeah, but now he also knew how soft her skin was. Knew her delicious taste. The silky texture of her hair. How incredible it felt to be buried deep in her velvety warmth. That was the sort of knowledge that could cloud his judgment. Cost him his competitive edge. And maybe a hell of a lot more.

But only if he let it. And he wouldn't. So he liked her. So he was attracted to her. Big deal. As long as he didn't do something stupid like fall in love with her, everything would be fine. He was in control.

Feeling considerably cheered by his mental pep talk, he skimmed his hand over the silky curve of her waist. She stirred in his arms, then lifted her head, and looked at him through eyes heavy-lidded with the remnants of sleep. A slow smile curved her lips. "Good morning."

Two words and a smile. That's all it took to sucker-punch all his fine control into next week.

"Good morning."

Stacking her hands on his chest, she rested her chin on her fingers and looked at him through solemn eyes. "We have a big problem here, Matt."

Damn. She felt their connection, too. That just complicated things further. And surely should have filled him with wariness, as opposed to this sensation that felt suspiciously like relief. With a dose of happiness thrown in for good measure.

"Look, Jilly, I-"

"Because I don't smell coffee."

He stared at her. "Huh?"

"Coffee. I distinctly recall us agreeing at some point last night that whoever woke up first was in charge of rounding up the coffee-preferably in an IV drip. Since you were looking at me when I opened my eyes just now, you obviously awoke first. But I don't smell coffee. So you're in big trouble."

His hands slid down her smooth back to the deliciously warm curve of her buttocks. "Oh, yeah? What kind of trouble?"

"As in you owe me big time."

"Are we talkin' money here? How much?"

"Money?" she scoffed. "Oh, no." She shifted, and ran her hand down his abdomen, brushing her fingers over the tip of his erection. "I demand a flesh payment."

"And if I refuse to give in to your heinous demands?"

For an answer, she rolled off him and rose from the bed. His gaze stalked her gorgeous, naked form as she strolled out of his line of vision with a sinful sway of her hips. He heard the sounds of her readying the room's coffeemaker, which was situated on a shelf just outside the bathroom. The ripping of the plastic bag, then the pouring of the grounds into the filter. Filling the glass pot, adding the water to the machine, then flipping the switch. Seconds later she appeared and, leaning against the wall, dangled a white ceramic cup from her index finger.

"If you choose not to give in to my heinous demands, I won't share my freshly brewing coffee with you," she said.

Without taking his gaze from her, he rose from the bed and walked slowly toward her. "You drive a hard bargain, Jilly."

Her gaze dipped down to his erection. "A topic you're familiar with, I see."

When he reached her, he plucked the cup from her fingers, tossed it onto the bed, then yanked her into his arms. Their lips met in a lush, intimate kiss that shot fire through his veins.

"All right," he said, dragging his mouth down her soft neck. "I'll pay up this time, but only because I'm desperate for that coffee."

Her hand slipped between them. She wrapped her fingers around his aroused length and he sucked in a sharp breath.

"Hmmmm. Are you sure coffee is what you want, Matt?"

"Yeah." Dipping his knees, he picked her up and carried her back to the bed. "But I want you first."

An hour later, Jilly stepped from the shower and wrapped one of the resort's fluffy white towels around her, sarong style. Freshly showered, and relaxed, she was ready to face the day. No doubt about it, nothing like a good bout-or several good bouts-of sex to put a spring in the step.

And as long as she remembered that that's all this was-just sex-everything would be fine. And she'd do it even if the effort to remember killed her. She wouldn't dwell on the intensity of their lovemaking. She'd forget about the heavenly texture of his skin beneath her hands and mouth. Push aside the memory of him filling her, touching her everywhere, murmuring her name like a prayer. Bludgeon all recollection of them laughing together while they fed each other chocolate-covered marshmallows. Yup, she had everything in perspective and she was in control.

After exiting the bathroom, she rounded the corner and saw Matt standing next to the phone. Matt wearing nothing except his boxer briefs-which raised her temperature-and a decidedly guilty look-which raised her curiosity.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

"Nope."

"You sure?"

"Yup."

"Were you able to reach Jack?"

"Just got off the phone with him. Looks like we're on our own for today."

She raised her brows. "What is he doing?"

"He's driving out to Orient Point with his new lady friend, Carol. They'll be gone all day, but Jack said he'd meet us for dinner here at the resort at seven."

She blew out a long breath. "Well, that puts us in a rather awkward position. Dinner last night was one thing, but Adam isn't going to be too happy to learn that so much of Maxximum's schmooze time is being stolen away by Jack's new friend."

"Well, short of kidnapping Jack, there isn't much we can do about it. Besides, it might work out for the best. Jack told me him and Carol are getting along like gangbusters." He shot her a pointed look. "I told him I understood completely."

Warmth flooded her at the heat flickering in his eyes. "So it looks like we're stuck with each other for the entire day."

"Seems so," Matt agreed. He walked toward her, and Jilly's heart sped up. He didn't stop until their bodies were pressed together from chest to knee. And then he destroyed her with one of those toe-curling, exquisite kisses that-

Tasted like chocolate.

Her eyes flew open, and she leaned back to glare at him. "What were you doing while I showered?" she asked, her eyes narrowed on his lips.

"Nothing," he said quickly. Too quickly.

She leaned forward and sniffed. "You smell like chocolate. You taste like chocolate. My chocolate."

"Aw, now Jilly-"

"Don't you 'Aw, now Jilly' me. There was only one piece left. If you ate it, I'm going to sue the pants off you."

"Sweetheart, you don't have to sue me to get my pants off."

"Well, if you ate my last piece of chocolate, you're going to have one hell of a time getting my pants off."

He hooked his finger in her towel and pulled. The terry cloth dropped to the floor. "You're not wearing pants." In one smooth movement, he shoved down his boxer briefs and stepped out of them. "And as luck would have it, neither am I."

Her mouth went dry at the sight of him-tall, muscular, aroused, beautiful as only a man with shower-damp, messy hair can be. The desire simmering in his eyes fired an answering want in her.

He drew her into his arms and gently rubbed his erection against her belly, shooting sparks straight to her womb. "I'll have you know," he said, "I only ate half of the last chocolate-covered marshmallow. We can buy more when we go out." He bent his head and flicked his tongue over her nipple, stealing her breath.

"I don't know… do you think we'll ever make it out of the room?" she asked, the last word ending with a husky moan as he drew her taut nipple into the heat of his mouth. "I'm afraid that my long abstinence has rendered me a bit insatiable."

"Yeah, that's too bad. Really." He trailed his tongue up her neck then nibbled on her earlobe. "As much as I don't want to leave the room, we're going to have to. We're down to our last condom. And the last half of the chocolate-covered marshmallows."

"That candy is mine, Marshmallow-boy."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're really bossy?"

"No one who lived to tell the tale."

"Well, since you shared the last piece of chocolate with me, I'm willing to share my last condom with you. Whaddaya say?"

She pulled his mouth to hers. "I say sharing is good."

Sitting in the comfortable booth where they'd just finished a delicious lunch of seafood pasta, Matt watched Jilly walk toward the sign marked "rest rooms." The instant she disappeared from view, he dragged his hands down his face.

Man, what the hell was wrong with him? Here he was, enjoying the company of a beautiful, intelligent, witty woman who turned him onto the point of forgetting how to speak English and who'd made it plain that another round of heart-stopping sex was in his immediate future. He should be as happy as a pig wallowing in mud. So why wasn't he?

The problem, you doofus, is that you're having too much fun, his inner voice informed him.

He huffed out another breath. Damn, it was true. He'd expected to enjoy her in bed, but he hadn't anticipated enjoying her just as much out of bed. Over lunch they'd discovered a mutual love of Bond flicks, mystery novels, jazz, the zoo, the Metropolitan Museum of Art's latest exhibit, and spicy Thai food. They'd held hands across the table and laughed over high school and college memories. Traded work war stories. Shared favorite Christmas memories.

He wasn't sure how it had happened, but somewhere between the pasta and his second cup of coffee, this weekend with her had entered a very scary place-a danger zone marked by huge, red neon signs that alternately flashed Be Careful, Proceed At Your Own Risk, and Warning: Heartbreak Ahead.

Good God, he really was a doofus. Any other guy would think he'd hit the lottery with this sweet deal he had going-a weekend of mindless, no-strings-attached sex with a woman who could melt bricks. But was he happy? Noooo. Well, yes, he was-but not as happy as he should be. Because, unfortunately, Jilly had engaged a hell of a lot more than his body. And he needed to nip that in the bud. Needed some time away from her to put things back in perspective, because any perspective he'd possessed had gotten shot to hell making love to her, and as he'd realized over lunch, that same perspective got shot to hell just talking with her. Yeah. Some time away from her was needed. Just a quick breather. An hour or so would do it.

After pulling out his cell phone, he punched in the number for Chateau Fontaine. One minute later, the proud owner of two spa reservations, he disconnected and blew out a long sigh of relief, assured that he was once again in control.

Seconds later, Jilly reappeared. When she slid into the booth across from him, he said, "I have a confession to make."

Mischief sparkled in her eyes. "Hmmm. Will this one be as good as dropping your old boss's fancy fishing pole overboard when he brought you out on his boat?"

He shot her a mock glare. "I knew I shouldn't have shared that moment. So I'm not a fisherman. Besides, the pole was slippery, and the water was rough."

"Of course it was," she said, patting his hand, and unsuccessfully hiding her grin. "So what's the big confession?"

"While you were freshening up, I called the resort and arranged for spa time for each of us. At four o'clock I'm scheduled for a massage, and you're in for a deluxe facial."

One brow hiked up. "Facial? You trying to tell me something? Like maybe I'm looking haggard?"

"No way. A guy would have to be insane to tell a woman who's a black belt that she looks haggard. I just thought you might like it."

Something that resembled annoyance flashed in her eyes. She drew a long breath, then said in a cool tone, "Thank you, but I'm perfectly capable of scheduling my own facial, if I decide I want one."

Matt instantly recalled last night's dinner conversation and he mentally slapped his forehead. Jilly would resent any behavior she'd perceive as taking care of her and any man attempting to exert that control. He clasped her hand. She tried to pull away, but he sandwiched her hand between his palms. "I guess I overstepped my bounds by arranging the facial for you, but I meant no offense. I only meant to be polite. I wanted a massage and thought it would be rude to schedule something for myself and leave you out-sort of like opening a box of chocolates and not sharing. Believe it or not, I do have some manners." He offered what he hoped was a peacemaking smile. "We can cancel if you'd like, or if you'd rather have a massage, we can change the reservation." He leaned forward. "But I thought I'd give you a massage. Later."

The annoyance drained from her gaze. "So, you weren't being bossy and controlling, you were being nice?"

"I'm sure you don't mean to sound so shocked. But yeah, nice was my intention."

"I see. And I'd be getting a facial and a massage."

"That's right."

She leaned forward, and the smoky look in her eyes tightened his groin. "In that case, I'll have the facial. Especially since I probably do look a bit haggard-which, I must point out, is entirely your fault. I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Sweetheart, there is nothing the least bit haggard about you, and you're not going to get much sleep tonight, either."

Their gazes locked, and Matt swore that something passed between them. A warmth, an intimate understanding, that went far beyond the reaches of a casual-sex relationship.

He brought her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss against her soft palm. "Would you get all mad at me if I offered to pay for lunch?"

"Mad? No. Would I let you? No."

"I like to pay for my dates."

"I'm not your date. I'm your… co-worker. Besides, we're here this weekend on business. This lunch should be charged to our Maxximum corporate account."

I'm not your date. I'm your… co-worker. She was right, of course. Still, an unpleasant sensation hit him at those words. Because, just like dinner last night, this felt very much like a date. And she was more than just his co-worker-she was, for the remainder of the weekend, his lover. His inner voice tried to chime in with a reminder that taking Jilly as his lover had been a baaaaaaad idea, but as it was too late now, he shoved the irritating voice aside.

"Okay, we'll charge lunch to Maxximum," he agreed. "Ready to do our shopping?"

"Lead on, Marshmallow-condom boy."

"Hey, that's Marshmallow-condom man to you."

"You sure you want to argue with a black belt?"

His gaze drifted down to her luscious lips. "Yup. Among other things."

Jilly sat in the soft, leather passenger seat of Matt's Lexus, and flipped through the guide to Long Island's wine country. She'd picked up the pamphlet on the way out of the candy shop where she and Matt had each purchased huge boxes of chocolate-covered marshmallows.

"Can't wait to play connect-the-dots with mine," he'd said with a grin that whooshed heat through her.

While Matt drove along Route 25-slowly, due to a heavy volume of cars along the one lane road-Jilly said, "According to this brochure, there are nearly thirty wineries out here." She looked up at him, noting his handsome profile as he watched the road. "That's just amazing. How is it possible that I've lived in New York my entire life and never visited the North Fork?"

"Same for me. The only time I've ever been to this part of Long Island was one summer when my family drove out to Mattituck-I think I was about ten or eleven. One of my dad's bosses had a summer cottage near the beach. I remember we caught clams and steamed them for dinner."

"So I guess you're better at catching clams than you are at catching fish," she teased.

He laughed. "Yeah. Clams don't swim as fast-and you don't need a slippery pole to catch them." He braked for a red light, then looked over at her and smiled. "Would you like to stop at one of the wineries on our way back?"

A perfectly normal smile, and a perfectly simple question. So why did they set her heart to racing? Because it's Matt's smile. And it's Matt asking the question, her inner voice sneered.

She ruthlessly pushed the voice aside. Fine. So Matt made her heart go pitty-pat. Next week, she and Kate would find another handsome, intelligent, amusing, sexy man who would affect her in the same way. No problem.

Smiling back, she said, "I'd love to stop at one of the wineries." She forced her gaze back to her brochure. After quickly scanning their choices, she suggested, "How about Galini Vineyards? According to the guide, it's only about a mile up the road. They offer a good selection of wines, and they bottle two different sparkling wines as well. I wouldn't mind picking up a few bottles for myself, and maybe some as Christmas gifts."

"Sounds like a good idea."

They continued the short distance along Route 25. Older houses, set close to the road, their lawns covered with pristine snow, bespoke of Victorian charm with their turrets, porches, and twinkling holiday decorations. A few minutes later, Matt pulled into the gravel driveway marked by a rustic wooden sign entwined with grape leaves proclaiming Galini Vineyards.

"Quaint-looking place," Jilly remarked, peering out the windshield. "It looks more like a farmhouse than a winery."

"You know what they say about looks being deceiving," Matt murmured. "C'mon. Let's check it out."

Hand in hand, they crossed the parking lot, then stomped the snow from their boots, laughing as they tried to see who could stomp the loudest. When they opened the door, bells tingled overhead, and they looked up.

"Hey," Matt said, pointing above the door as he closed it. "That's mistletoe." He waggled his brows. "You know what that means."

Jilly heaved out a put-upon sigh. "I suppose it means I have to kiss you."

"It certainly does."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a very high-maintenance guy?"

"No one who lived to tell the tale."

Wrapping an arm around her waist, he drew her close, and covered her lips in a warm, friendly, delicious, teasing kiss that kindled a desire for more.

"Ah! I see my mistletoe is working," came a cheerful, Italian-accented voice from behind them.

Arms still around each other, they turned in unison. A robust man whom Jilly judged to be in his mid-fifties smiled at them from an archway leading into another room. He wore faded denim overalls over a cambric shirt, and tan work boots. Gray marked his thick, ebony hair, and his amusement-filled dark eyes regarded them over the rim of a pair of wire-framed reading glasses, which rode the end of his nose.

"Working very well," Matt said with a grin, dropping a quick kiss onto her forehead.

"Every Christmas I hang mistletoe above the door chimes," the man said, walking toward them, wiping his hands on a rag, "and every year I catch dozens of couples kissing. It does my heart good."

Tucking the rag into his pocket, he extended his hand. "Welcome to Galini Vineyards. My name's Joe."

Matt shook the man's hand, then Jilly did the same, noting Joe's firm handshake and work-roughened, callused hands.

"Are you looking for anything in particular?"

"We understand you have several varieties of sparkling wine?" Jilly said.

"Some very fine varieties," Joe said. He indicated a long, highly polished bar along the left wall. "Would you care for a tasting?"

Jilly smiled. "That would be great."

Joe crossed the room, and Matt and Jilly followed. While Joe readied tulip-shaped glasses and removed bottles from the refrigerator, Jilly looked around the large room.

The rustic theme carried through to the inside of the building. Wood plank floors, paneled walls, and a high, beamed ceiling were made to feel warm and cozy by the stone fireplace nestled in the corner where a fire cheerfully crackled. Attractively framed photographs of the vineyard during various seasons and stages of harvesting lined the walls.

An eye-catching display of wines and handmade ceramic pieces decorated a long table beyond the bar where they now stood. Looking out the huge picture window that took up the entire back wall, Jilly noted that the scenery was identical to that at Chateau Fontaine-row upon row of bare, snow-covered vines, held in place by thick wooden stakes and horizontal cables.

"Incredible to believe that so much of this land where the wineries now are, used to be potato farms," Jilly remarked.

Matt's brows raised. "Potato farms? I didn't know that."

"It's true," Joe said, in his accented voice. "In fact, this very building is a renovated farmhouse. The owners wanted to keep the rustic feel of the place."

"It's terrific," Jilly said, smiling. "Very warm and cozy and friendly."

"Grazie. On behalf of the Galini family, I thank you." Joe poured some bubbly into the two glasses. "This is our bestselling sparkling wine. It's crisp, dry, made mostly from pinot noir grapes."

The delicate bubbles burst on Jilly's tongue. "Delicious," she said, and Matt agreed.

They tasted two other sparkling wines, then sampled a merlot and a chardonnay, while Joe related a brief history of the vineyard.

"All the grapes at Galini Vineyards are picked by hand," Joe said, and there was no mistaking the pride in his voice. "We have eighty acres, and grow mostly cabernet sauvignon, chardonnay, merlot, and pinot noir. Five acres are devoted to sangiovese, the grape of-"

"Chianti," Jilly said, with a smile.

Joe beamed at her, his dark eyes filled with pleasure at her knowledge. "Yes. You are a student of wine?"

Jilly laughed. "More like a new recruit. I recently did some research on the subject because a client I'm hoping to win over enjoys wine, and I must admit I find it fascinating." She felt the weight of Matt's gaze and purposely kept her attention focused on Joe. "You must be busy pruning the vines at this time of year."

Joe nodded. "Yes. It is a long, painstaking task. Each individual vine must be pruned manually, and unfortunately not everyone can do it."

"You need to have the feel for it," Jilly guessed.

"That is correct. A full day's work will prune less than half an acre."

"But the hard work is worth it," Matt said. "The wines are delicious, and this merlot…" he swirled the last swallow in his glass, "is exceptional. And the chardonnay we tasted has a very distinctive oaky flavor."

Joe practically preened from the praise. "Grazie."

"That's from aging in oak barrels," Jilly said. "I read all about it. The oak imparts flavor to the wine while it ferments and ages, and because oak is slightly porous, it lets water and alcohol out, and small amounts of oxygen in which helps the wine to 'integrate'…" Her voice trailed off and she laughed at herself. "Sorry. Sometimes I get carried away."

Joe waved his hand. "Nonsense. Your enthusiasm is enchanting."

The bells above the door tinkled as a trio of young men entered. Joe excused himself, and Jilly turned to Matt who regarded her with a look she couldn't decipher.

"You clearly did your homework to prep for this weekend with Jack," he said.

"I'm certain you did the same."

"True, but the Missionary Position Virus problem ate up a lot of my time."

A smile tugged her lips. "Hmmm. Yes, I imagine that the ol' missionary position problem could use up a lot of time. Especially if one were to apply themselves to solving that particular problem by coming up with alternate solutions."

"Absolutely," he murmured. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and her pulse jumped at the intimate gesture. "Have I mentioned that I am an extremely adept problem-solver?"

"No, but you didn't need to. Actions speak louder than words." Sliding her arms around his neck she stood on her toes, leaned into him and lightly bit his earlobe. Feminine satisfaction filled her at the low growl that rumbled in his throat. "So what does this action tell you, big guy?" She pressed herself more fully against him.

"That it's time to get out of here."

She leaned back in the circle of his arms and smiled at him. "See? That's one of the things I like about you, Davidson. You're smart."

An undecipherable look flashed in his eyes. "Smart. That's just one of the things I like about you, Jilly."

Jilly's heartbeat stuttered. Uh-oh. Once again their lighthearted conversation seemed to veer onto a serious side street. She didn't want him to like her. She didn't want to like him. She just wanted to use him for sex until tomorrow and then forget he existed. Yeah, that's what she wanted.

A frown tugged down her brow. But it was probably okay that he liked her and she liked him. People who engaged in sex should like each other-right? Of course! And like was a very noncommittal, lukewarm, unintimidating emotion. She liked corn on the cob. She liked daisies. She liked the color green. She liked Matt. No big deal. As long as she didn't do something really stupid and more than like him, everything would be great.

Stepping back from him, she slipped her hand into his and pulled him toward the table where the colorful handmade ceramic plates, bowls, and cups were displayed.

"What are we doing?" he asked.

"Shopping."

"I'd much rather drag you into that back room and have my wicked way with you behind an oak barrel."

She pushed aside that tempting image and shot him a mock frown. "I'm sure that would be very damaging to the wines. Probably disrupt their tannins."

"Whatever they are."

She adopted her most prim, schoolmarm voice. "Tannins are a class of chemicals found in the skins, seeds, and stems of grapes. They're important to wine because they react with oxygen and protect against premature oxidation which is one of the main sources of wine spoilage."

He nuzzled her neck with his warm lips. "Yeah. Premature oxidation. I hate it when that happens."

A giggle erupted from her. "You're distracting me from my shopping." Yet even as she said the words, she turned her head to give him easier access to her neck.

"I can solve this shopping problem in five seconds flat," he said, his breath whispering against her ear. "Let's just buy one of everything and get out of here."

She leaned back in the circle of his arms and shot him a mock frown. "Clearly you know nothing about living on a budget."

"You're right. Let's go get naked and you can tell me all about it."

"And I thought I was insatiable."

"Didn't I tell you? Insatiable is my middle name."

"Ha. Since when?"

The amusement drained from his gaze. "Do you really want to know?"

She stilled under the regard of his suddenly serious expression and husky tone. Even as her common sense yelled No!, her lips said, "Yes."

"Ever since I walked into room 312 on Friday night."

His answer stalled her breath, as did the intensity in his gaze. It was what she'd been terrified to hear-yet precisely what she'd wanted him to say. Because she felt exactly the same way.

"You feel it, too," he said softly, his gaze searching hers.

Panic fluttered through her, and her mind screamed at her to lie, to run, to plead the fifth. But what was the point? He'd know she was lying. Besides, she wasn't a liar.

Lifting her chin, she said, "Yes. I feel it, too."

Was that relief that flashed in his eyes? Before she could decide, he cupped her face in his palms and brushed his thumbs over her cheeks. "Question is, what are we going to do about that, Jilly?"

The instant he voiced the question, Matt wished he could snatch back the words. He shouldn't have asked, shouldn't have verbalized the nagging question that had plagued him all day-a certainty reinforced by the wary, guarded look that filled Jilly's eyes and the deafening silence. Man, it was a good thing he'd booked himself that massage because he really did need an hour away from this woman and the potent spell she cast on him.

"We're going to do exactly what we agreed," she finally said. "We're going to enjoy each other the rest of this weekend, then… not enjoy each other anymore. Business as usual."

"You're right, of course." Unfortunately his suspicion that it was going to be impossible for him to hold up his end of their bargain gained momentum with every minute he spent in her company. Especially since it was becoming increasingly obvious that he wouldn't be able to neatly file her away under "Ice Princess" and "enemy number one" any longer.

Forcing what he hoped passed for a carefree grin, he said, "And seeing as how our weekend will be over by this time tomorrow, I vote we head back to the resort and enjoy each other as much as we can for the time we have left." He waggled his brows. "Think we can make it through the entire box of condoms I bought?"

Her expression relaxed and she smiled. "There's only one way to find out. But thirty-six condoms in twenty-four hours?" She shook her head. "I think there'll be a few left over."

"I'm willing to go for the record if you are. Whaddaya say?"

"I say let's finish shopping and get out of here."

Matt selected two platters, both hand painted with grapes, as Christmas gifts for his mom and sister, while Jilly picked out several serving bowls for presents, and two oversize latte cups for herself.

"Latte goes very well with chocolate-covered marshmallows," she said with a teasing grin.

They each picked out several bottles of wine, then brought their purchases to the register where Joe wrapped them in colorful holiday paper while he amused them with stories of growing up in Italy.

While their receipts printed, Joe nodded toward a large glass bowl near the cash register, half-filled with business cards. "We pick a winner once a month for a free bottle of wine. If you'd like to enter, just put your business card in there."

Both Matt and Jilly dug out business cards and passed them to Joe who looked at them with interest. "Maxximum Advertising Agency," he read. "You work together?"

An uncomfortable flush crept up Matt's neck at the unwelcome reminder. "Yes."

Nodding solemnly, Joe dropped the cards into the bowl. "My wife, she works here at the winery. This can sometimes be difficult." He shot them a broad wink. "But sometimes also rewarding." He handed them their packages with a flourish. "Best of luck to you, Matthew and Jillian. I hope you will return to Galini Vineyards. Perhaps in the summer, when the vines are green and lush with ripening fruit. I will give you a personally guided tour."

"That sounds lovely, Joe," Jilly said with a smile. "Thank you."

Matt's stomach tightened. If Jilly meant to take Joe up on his offer, she'd obviously be doing so accompanied by someone who-

Isn't me.

Shoving that disturbing, irritating thought aside, Matt shook Joe's hand, then he and Jilly headed toward the exit. When Matt opened the door, the bells tingled, and they looked up. Once again they stood directly under the mistletoe. Jilly smiled and lifted her face, clearly expecting a quick peck. But need and desire slammed into Matt. Hauling her against him with his free arm, he angled his back to afford them a modicum of privacy, then slanted his mouth over hers in a hot, hard, demanding kiss. When he lifted his head, masculine satisfaction roared through him at Jilly's dazed expression.

"Wow," she breathed. "That's some damn good mistletoe."

Matt looked over his shoulder at Joe, who grinned and shot him a thumbs-up. "Mistletoe works every time," Joe said with a laugh.

With a final wave, they walked to the car. After Matt closed the trunk, he asked, "I'm ready to hit the room, get naked, and start working on that thirty-six pack. Whaddaya say?"

"I say it's good to set high goals in life."