Page 85 of One Wild Wish

CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE

JIMMY

Rachel lifted the glass to her nose, and I could almost smell each teasing note. I wanted to get drunk on her heady scent. Standing this far was torture, every inch of my body craving a taste of her, a touch, an inch to savor. Anything. But I had more say.

She swished the wine around her mouth and swallowed, the length of her neck opening up as she tipped her head back. I stared, unabashed, taking in the necklace that dipped between her cleavage. Her leopard-print skirt was criminal, her mile-long legs smooth and perfect. Legs I’d rather have wrapped around my head.

Heat flooded my groin.

Another swirl of her glass. Another sip. Then a sly grin tipped up one corner of her mouth. “You didn’t think I’d recognize your family’s Windswept Chardonnay? What kind of novice do you take me for?”

“Maybe I was looking to lose.” Except I had no idea what I’d be losing. This was about handing Rachel control. I could apologize all I wanted, beg for another chance, claim I’d never hurt her again, but if she didn’t believe me, we’d never work. Trust was paramount. So this was both of us tasting blind, feeling the other out. But if she ignored my Ainsley condition, I’d have to book a one-way ticket to Siberia. Fucking terrifying, that one.

Before I removed the paper from my pocket, I pulled the bottle in question from below the table and hid the label with my hand. “You guessed right, but we’ve rebranded it. We’re tweaking the recipe, too. That will develop in time, but the plan is to make it our flagship wine, grow the business around it.”

“Do I get to see this flashy new label?” She rubbed her hands together, eager. Clueless to what I’d done.

If I’d gone too far, if she wasn’t ready, there was a chance I’d scare her off, but I still had to man up, put my heart on my sleeve. No bluffing about who I was or how I felt.

Swallowing hard, I revealed my masterpiece, and she sucked in her breath. We were at a charity function, people milling everywhere, but it was like the edges had faded into darkness, a spotlight separating us from the crowd.

“Is that what I think it is?” she asked.

I offered a tentative nod. “It’s you.”

She yanked the bottle from me and had that look about her, like she wanted to press it against her breasts and stare at it for weeks and assign it a permanent location in her alphabetized wine fridge. I rubbed the back of my neck, tension ebbing.

She ran her fingertips over the wine’s new name, Sunshine Chardonnay. A crude drawing of the pond we’d picnicked at filled the label. She blinked, and a tear slid down her cheek. Last time she cried, it was because I’d said unforgivable things. These tears made my heart squeeze in a different way.

“I can’t believe you did this,” she whispered.

I wanted to round the table and kiss her tears away, but it wasn’t time yet. “I plan to do much more for you.” I jutted my chin toward the bottle. “Read the description.”

Lip tucked between her teeth, she flipped it over. Her chin trembled as she scanned the words. I didn’t need to read them. I’d written each one.

Sunshine is a ripe wine full of life. It may change, depending on the year and seasonal conditions, but it will always brighten your day. Nurtured with love, its hints of spice set it apart, its creamy mouthfeel decadent, every nuance a taste to savor. And Sunshine’s legs are a thing of beauty. Our flagship Chardonnay is an expression of who we want to be.

Shaking her head, she wiped at her eyes. “You made my mascara run.”

“Sorry?”

“Don’t apologize.”

“Not sorry?”

Exasperated, she crushed the bottle against her chest, going for the boob rub after all. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. I have my own wine.”

“Yeah. Okay. But maybe save the full-body contact for later.” My dirty princess was drawing a crowd.

“Need I remind you that you’re supposed to be the wild one? Stop smothering me.”

I planted my hands on the table and leaned toward her. “I plan to smother you plenty. Later. For now, we have a wager to complete.”

Huffing out a playful breath, she clutched the bottle and crooked her finger, beckoning me to follow. I did, magnetically. I’d have trailed her to the ends of the Earth, if she asked. She led us to a quiet corner of the tent, behind a divider. The noise dulled, jazz tunes fading to swirling notes. She turned and pulled me against her.

“This is too much.” She clutched my tie, face pleading…for what?

“It’s not enough, Ray. One apology, a thousand, would never be enough, because you’re it for me. I need you to know I’m willing to build my world around you. You make me want to do better, be better. You’re my sunshine.”