Something in the Wine (27 page)

“Oh, Annie.” The way Drew said her name was like a tender caress. “I’m so sorry they don’t show more interest in you. You deserve better than that. Want me to kick their asses on Thanksgiving?”

The thought made Annie laugh, chasing away her bitterness. “My father is six foot four.”

“Don’t worry. I’m fairly athletic. I can kick that high,” Drew said.

The memory of Drew’s athletic body pressed against hers flashed through Annie again.
Stop that adolescent nonsense.
“We’ll see.” The huskiness of her voice surprised Annie. She took a mouthful of water. Then another. “Thanksgiving is just around the corner. Do you want to get together over the weekend and discuss the details of our plan?”

“Sure,” Drew said without hesitation.

Pleasure at Drew’s instant agreement swirled through Annie, but she didn’t want to examine the source of that emotion too closely. It took some effort to rein in her smile, though. “How about Saturday? Maybe we could have dinner.”

“Uh, I’m sorry. Saturday isn’t good for me. Lynn is dragging me out to go dancing with her and some friends.”

Oh.
Somehow, Drew’s answer put Annie off her stride. She struggled to regain her composure.
What did you expect? Of course she has plans on Saturday. She’s an attractive woman. Women are probably lining up to dance with her. And Lynn will be the first in line.

When the silence between them dragged on, Drew said, “Maybe we could meet on Sunday.”

Annie gave herself a mental kick. “Sure. Would four o’clock work for you?”

“Why don’t we make it three? We’ll have more time then. I’ll come pick you up, and we’ll have an early dinner.”

“Okay,” Annie said.

A few more seconds of silence ticked by. “Until Sunday, then.”

“Yes,” Annie said. “Until Sunday.” She ended the call, sank onto the couch, and stared at the roses on the coffee table.
They’re yellow,
she told herself.
So what do you care who she goes dancing with?
“I don’t,” she said into the silence of her living room. “Why would I care?” She wandered into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. The ritual of boiling water was one she had done a thousand times before, and she used the familiar sequence of movements to calm her rattled nerves.

The phone rang just as she poured hot water into a mug.

She chased away the thought that it might be Drew again, hurried into the living room, and picked up the phone. “Yes?”

“Hello, Annie. This is Jonathan. Jonathan Poynter. I hope you don’t mind that I got your home number from the office.”

Annie didn’t like it, but now that he already had her number, it was too late to protest. “It’s okay,” she said. “What can I do for you? Do you need some more help with the software?”

“Oh, no. No. I’m not calling because of work.” He cleared his throat. “I know I asked you out before and you said no, but I got tickets for a jazz band that is playing in San Luis Obispo this Saturday and I thought maybe you’d like to go.”

Annie stared at the blank TV screen.
Say yes.
She liked jazz, and going out on a Saturday night was the normal thing to do.

“We could just go as friends,” Jonathan added when she hesitated.

“All right,” Annie heard herself say.

“Yeah?” Jonathan’s voice squeaked like that of an adolescent boy. “That’s great. We could go to dinner afterward.”

“Okay.” For once, she would take Drew’s advice and enjoy the night out without negative assumptions about how it would go.
We’ve got work in common, and we both like jazz, so maybe it’ll be a nice evening.

“Then I’ll pick you up at seven,” Jonathan said.

Annie agreed and ended the call. She walked back to the kitchen, leaned against the counter, and cradled her mug between cold hands. Deeply in thought, she bent her head and took the first sip.
Ugh. What’s this?
She stared into the mug and realized she had forgotten to put tea in it.

Chapter 13

When Drew finally found a parking space one block from The Fig Leaf, she got out of her car and hurried toward the nightclub. A quick glance at her watch showed that it was half past ten. She was thirty minutes late.

Her cell phone chirped. She took a look.
Lynn again. Great.
During the forty-minute drive to the nightclub, she had already gotten two text messages from Lynn and one from Erica, asking her where she was and informing her that they were waiting inside. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. On my way.” She waited in line for a few minutes, paid the cover charge, and took a deep breath before she entered The Fig Leaf.

Loud music and flashing lights engulfed her. Drew gritted her teeth against the noise and made her way through the crowd waiting their turn in front of the long bar. Someone bumped into her and spilled a sticky drink all over Drew’s hands.

Drew groaned as she tried to shake off the liquid. Having Annie spill wine on her had been much nicer.
Stop thinking about Annie!

She continued to weave through the crowd. After a long day in the winery, she wasn’t in the mood to have her feet trampled on a tiny dance floor, but she hadn’t seen her friends since Halloween, so at least catching up with them would be nice.

“Hey, Drew!” someone shouted from the left.

When Drew turned, she discovered that her friends had commandeered one of the small, round tables along one wall.

“Finally!” Lynn said when Drew walked up to them. She hugged Drew, pressing a bit too close and holding on a few seconds too long.

Drew returned the hug for a moment, then pulled back and eyed the almost empty drink on the table in front of Lynn’s chair.
Oh, great. Another evening of trying to let Lynn down gently.
She turned to greet the rest of her friends. “Sorry for being late. The couple just couldn’t agree on which wines to serve at their wedding.”

“If they can’t even agree on that, the marriage is doomed,” Becky said. She leaned back in her chair and pulled Sam onto her lap.

Sam half-turned and gently hit her wife’s muscular shoulder. “Gosh, you’re such a romantic. Remind me why I married you?”

“Yeah, you should have married me instead of the big unromantic ox over there,” Drew said, her voice raised. The shouting was already getting on her nerves, and she wished they had gotten a table that wasn’t so close to the dance floor.

Sam grinned. “I offered, but you didn’t give me the time of day.”

Drew rolled her eyes. “I was five years old, and you were just after my lunch box when you proposed.”

“Now who’s the big unromantic ox?” Becky nudged her wife, pulled her around, and kissed her.

Even though Drew averted her gaze to respect her friends’ privacy, images of Annie kissing her flashed through her mind. She frowned and tried to distract herself by scanning the crowd for familiar faces. A few of the women on the dance floor were attractive, but tonight, none of them captured her interest.

Finally, Sam and Becky came up for air and Sam turned back around. “How are things going at the winery?”

“Great, thanks.”

“Do you want me to get you a drink?” Erica shouted from the other side of the table and made a drinking motion to make herself understood.

The crowd in front of the bar tempted Drew to say yes, but she didn’t want to lead Erica on. Sam’s cousin had been interested in her for quite some time, and while she liked Erica, she wasn’t interested in her romantically. Her failed relationship with Lynn had taught her that dating a friend, hoping your feelings might grow into love wasn’t a good idea.

“She can have mine,” Lynn said before Drew could answer. She slid her almost empty glass in front of Drew.

Drew sighed. “No, thanks. I’ll get my own.” She turned and joined the crowd in front of the bar.

“Everything okay?” Lynn had followed her and pressed close even though the music was not as loud in this part of the club. She rubbed Drew’s arm and gave her a concerned gaze.

“I’m fine. Just a bit stressed.” Drew returned the gentle touch to Lynn’s shoulder. Lynn was a good friend, but Drew had to be careful not to let her think there could be more between them again.

A slender blond woman walked up to Drew. The black lights surrounding the bar made her shirt and her teeth glow as she smiled at Drew. “Hi. I’m Malinda. Would you dance with me?”

Drew hesitated. She was here to see her friends, not to dance with strangers.

The blonde looked from Drew to Lynn. “Oh. Are you two ...?”

“What? No. Just friends,” Drew said.

Lynn pressed her lips together and looked away.

Shit.
Drew closed her eyes for a moment. She reached over and patted Lynn’s shoulder.

Her teeth glowed eerily as the blond woman grinned. “Good. Then let’s dance. I’ll buy you a drink afterwards.” Stray lights from the dance floor bounced off her hair, making it glitter like gold.

“Sorry, but—”

“Go,” Lynn said and gave her a shove. Shadows of hurt lurked in her eyes, but she put on a determined expression. “Just because you don’t want to be with me doesn’t mean you have to turn into a nun. God, you used to be so much fun. And now? Girl, you’re getting old.”

“Am not,” Drew grumbled. Her feet hurt from being on them all day, but she didn’t want to prove Lynn right, so she nodded at the blonde. “Okay. Lead the way.”

The club’s modest dance floor was crowded. Bright lights flashed from the ceiling. The beat of the music thumped through Drew’s bones as she moved to the rhythm.

Her dance partner—Melissa? Melinda?—shouted in Drew’s ear and used the opportunity to press her body more tightly against Drew’s. “So what’s the story between you and your friend?” She pointed over at the bar, where she had met Lynn.

“Long story,” Drew said. She wasn’t about to break Lynn’s confidence by talking about their relationship with a complete stranger. Lynn deserved better than that.

The woman danced closer. “I’ve got time.”

Drew shook her head. “Let’s just dance.”

“I can do that.” The blonde moved her hips in a sensuous rhythm and swayed back and forth against Drew. “You’re quite the dancer!” Their breasts rubbed against each other. The blonde’s hand slid down her back and her thigh brushed against Drew’s crotch.

Drew’s body reacted with a low burn of arousal, but her mind was elsewhere. “Thanks. You’re not so bad either.”

After a while, the DJ put on a song that Drew found too fast to really dance to. “Let’s take a break,” she shouted at the blonde.

They weaved their way toward the bar.

Drew glanced at her watch. It felt as if she had been here for hours, but it was barely after eleven.
This time last week, you were with Annie.
The thought was ridiculous, of course.
This time last week, you were laid up with the cold from hell, shivering and sweating through a high fever.

Her companion had obviously seen her glance at her watch. She gave her a conspiratorial grin. “Want to get out of here? I’m sure we can find something to do for the rest of the night.”

The offer was tempting. The blonde was attractive and not looking for anything more than one night of fun. Her body, overheated from dancing, tingled in reaction to the blonde’s unmistakable gaze.
Just say yes. Blow off some steam before you see Annie tomorrow.
But thinking about Annie made her libido spin in a different direction. Going home with the blonde seemed like cheating on Annie.
Cheating? Now you’re going crazy.
Annie was straight and couldn’t care less if she went home with some blonde. She wouldn’t even know.
But I’d know, and it would feel totally wrong.
Drew took a step back. “Maybe another time.”

“You sure?” The blonde closed the space Drew had created between them and trailed her index finger down Drew’s chest, stopping just above her bra.

The suave gesture of seduction, so unlike Annie’s blushing naivety, made up Drew’s mind. She stepped back, severing the contact between their bodies. “Yes. I’m sorry. I’m not up for anything more than dancing tonight.”

“Suit yourself.” The blonde turned on her heel, strutted away, and disappeared into the crowd on the dance floor.

Drew watched her retreating back and rested her elbows on the bar. She needed a drink. A big one.

When the bartender walked over to her end of the bar, she ordered a beer, though. She had to drive home later and didn’t want to be hungover when she met up with Annie the next day.

“Strike out with Malinda?” Lynn leaned against the bar next to Drew.

Explaining would be too complicated, so Drew just shrugged. “Something like that.”

“Maybe you should ask Erica to dance. You know she’s had the hots for you for ages.”

Drew groaned. “I’m not interested in Erica.”