Chasing Venus (55 page)

Vive la France!

He chuckled, took a last gulp of his own bubbly and stubbed
out his cigarette. Bet Rory never got a stewardess into bed, or Bucky either,
that tool. They didn't have anywhere near his charm. Sure, he'd had to spend
most of the ten-hour flight from Paris standing at the rear of the cabin
flirting and telling stories, but now he was going to get his reward:
Ariane's
full roster of private First Class favors.

I can still top them
,
he told himself. So what if Rory was graduating from Yale Law and Bucky was in
med school? Max Winsted was still the biggest stud from Napa High, class of
'97, and he was about to get even bigger.

"
Viens
!"
The arm holding the champagne glass
motioned him to come closer. Her bright red
lipsticked
mouth smiled, her big dark eyes teased.
"
Viens
jouer
, Max!"

"Let me just shut the drapes." After eighteen
months of French food and French pastries and French wine, Max suspected he'd
look better in the dark.

Since his shirt was already off, he sucked in his stomach
before he walked to the windows, double-thick to keep out the roar of the 101
freeway six stories below. He was surprised to see how much traffic there was
even at noon. He had plenty of time, though, since the party didn't start till
seven and from here the drive home took only an hour and a half.

Besides, he'd get there when he got there. The party was
more for his mother than for him, anyway. The important business started the
next day, when he got down to running
Suncrest
.

He tugged on the drape cord to shut out the view. "Your
winery is how big?"
Ariane
was behind him all of
a sudden, pushing her boobs into his back and reaching around his belly.

"Big." Max turned to face her. "More than a
hundred thousand cases a year." At least that would be true once he was in
charge.

Ariane
grabbed him lower, holding
his gaze. Her eyes sparkled.
"
C'est
tres
,
tres
grand."

He harrumphed. "No kidding."

"You're very rich?" She pronounced it
reech
but he got
the point.

"
Tres
,"
he told her.
And just wait to see how much richer I'll be this time next year.

Oh, he had plans. Big plans.
Suncrest
would really be on the map once Max Winsted was at the helm. No more treading
water like it had been under his mother's management. Of course, what else
could you expect from her? She didn't have a practical bone in her body. And
while his father had been an excellent businessman in his day, he'd been
old-school. Too cautious. Too plodding.

"What types of wine"—
Ariane
was kissing his neck now, her left hand still working its magic south of the
equator—"do you make?"

"You know what?" He wasn't interested in wine talk
at the moment. "Let's go over there."

He pushed her back toward the bed, where she didn't need one
single
s'il
vous
plait,
mademoiselle
to whip off her skirt and lean back giggling against the
pillows, five feet six inches of living, breathing, willing French female. Who,
thanks to Max Winsted, was about to have the best time of her entire life.

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happens next? If you buy from Amazon.com:

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TOO
CLOSE TO THE SUN

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TOO
CLOSE TO THE SUN