Twice in a Blue Moon (17 page)

“No.”

“What?”

“I'm taking him hostage.”
You're what?
“I'm—I'm keeping him until you listen to me. And if he bites me, it'll be on you.”

She sighed. “Great. His tail is wagging. Obviously he's as bad a judge of character as I.”

“Well.” He snatched at more words. Anything to keep her from slamming the door on his last chance. “You had your say. I'm keeping him until I've had mine. And bear in mind I've never owned a dog. I don't have any dog food. I think I have some ham in the fridge I could give him, but last I looked, it had kind of a green tinge...”

She gave a ragged sigh. “You're not coming in.”

“Okay, how about the porch?” A trickle of hope seeped into his overloaded brain, cool and sweet.
First step.
He tried not to think of the thousand steps to follow; he was on a tightrope over the Grand Canyon. Holding Barney's collar, he backed up to give her space, stepped to one of the chairs and sat. Barney plopped beside him.

She followed, but rather than sit next to him, she leaned on the porch rail, arms crossed. “Ten minutes. Then you'll give me my dog, and we're done.”

Time stretched as he tried to gather the words to the story he'd never told before. The full moon created a photo-negative view of the vineyard and made Indigo's dress glow with creamy incandescence. The crickets scratched out love songs in the vines. He let go of Barney's collar, focused on the peaceful scene and let the words come however they might.

“A few months after Esperanza was born, Lissette decided to pick up her life where she'd left off. By life, I mean partying.” He shook his head. “When we first met, she'd go to the club maybe twice a month. When she got pregnant, she continued to go but swore she only drank soda, and I believed her. I didn't say anything for fear she'd rebel and go more often.” Bouncing his foot bled off some of the jittery energy zipping along his nerves.

“When the newness of motherhood wore off, Lissette found that being a queen was nowhere near as fun as being a princess. She wasn't used to coming second, even if it was to her own baby. I'm not saying she didn't love Esperanza. She did. When it suited her. She wanted to hire a nurse to handle the parts of motherhood that didn't interest her. I refused. We fought. And her best friend, Roxy, was right there to remind Lissette of all the fun she was missing.”

He shifted focus from the moon to Indigo. She hadn't moved, just stared at him as if he were a slight danger that bore watching.

“The more we argued, the more she'd go out at night. After last call, she'd come home drunk and belligerent, and we'd pick up the argument where we'd left off. Then she'd sleep like the dead until noon, and I was terrified to leave Esperanza alone with her in the morning. So I'd take the baby to her grandmother, explaining that Lissette needed her rest.” A sound of disgust burst from his nose like a sneeze—just as spontaneous.

“Her parents knew what was going on. I tried to talk to them at different times, but I was the bad guy who'd ruined their daughter to begin with. They didn't say anything to Lissette. They didn't do anything to try to help. I guess they figured we could lie in the bed we'd made. But that bed had become a war zone.”

Don't think about it. Just say it.

“Lissette wanted to go out that night.” He put his elbows on his knees and burrowed his fingers into his scalp. “But I had work to do—we were on a timeline to introduce a new merlot, and the wine had flaws. I told her that I couldn't watch Esperanza and work, too.” He took a deep breath and made himself slow down. “She just laughed, said the baby was sleeping, and arm in arm with Roxy, she walked out.”

It can't hurt any worse on the outside than it does on the inside.

“I was at my wit's end. I sat in the dark for the longest time, thinking. I'd applied for vintner jobs in Napa, hoping that maybe Lissette and I could start over, away from all the influences that were tainting our marriage. Maybe if it was just us, she'd have to grow up and take on the responsibility of being a mother and a wife. Things couldn't go on the way they were.

“I checked on Esperanza. I set a timer. I checked on her every hour. She was sleeping. Peaceful.” His breath was coming faster, breaking his sentences into short bursts.

Don't feel, just say.

“I'd gotten a call that morning. From the owner of a Napa winery who needed a vintner. It wasn't as large or prestigious as Bacchanal, but they were getting good reviews. They had a nice Chardonnay I thought I could improve. I couldn't talk during working hours, so I decided to call him back that evening. If he had a good offer, I was planning to tell Lissette when she came home from the club.”

Indigo uncrossed her arms and rested her hands on the railing.

“The timer went off in the middle of my sales pitch.” He had to move. He stood, strode to the end of the porch, then back. “I turned it off and continued dazzling this guy with my accomplishments, brilliance and wit.” He stopped pacing to spit over the railing. “Oh, yeah, I was brilliant.” He continued pacing.

“When I hung up a half hour later, I had a job offer. I was feeling pretty smug. I went to check on—” His voice cracked, along with his detachment. He was back in that room.

“The nightlight was on, but dim. I thought she was sleeping until I leaned close. She wasn't breathing.” His chest heaved. His diaphragm was so tight, he couldn't catch his own breath.

“I'm—I'm not real clear on what happened after that. I gave her mouth-to-mouth and CPR, I know that. For a long time. Then I ran for my phone to call 9-1-1. I fell. Hit my head.” He rubbed his fingers over the scar above his eye and tried to stiffen the words that had gone all wobbly. “When they got there...” He panted. “The paramedics. It was too late. I knew that. But I screamed at them to try.”

She touched his arm on his way by. He kept walking.

“They said it wasn't my fault. That crib death was no one's fault. But I knew. I knew, because I'd turned off the timer. If I'd have gone in—”

“You can't know that.” Her voice came soft, out of the dark.

“My baby—” He stopped. Stopped talking, stopped moving.
Look at the moon. Listen to the crickets. Breathe. Listen.

After a time, the panic stilled a bit. A drop of sweat rolled down his chest. He found his voice. “To my wife and her family, it was my fault. They divorced me faster than I'd known it was legal.

“Her dad fired me the day of the funeral.”

It's over. No matter what happens, that's over. You're still standing.

“Danovan, you know it wasn't your fault, right?” Her words came to him, small and sad.

He put on his interview voice. “The point is, my former employer will tell you that I was giving away trade secrets, but he's lying. Yes, the owner of the most respected winery in the valley is going to tell you I did worse than fail at my job—that I tried to hurt his business. But it's not true.”

A deformed laugh escaped, an ugly sound. He crossed his arms, tucking his hands safely away. “You're right. I used you, Indigo. Every owner in the area knew me—knew what happened. Knew I was getting screwed. But they didn't have the balls to hire me. They wouldn't take a chance of pissing off their biggest competition, because King Bolden rules this valley.”

“W-why didn't you leave? Take that job in Napa?”

Chin up, she stood her ground. He had to give her that.

“Because this is my home!” His pain boomed off the roof of the porch and rolled over the vines. A smoking hole opened in the bottom of his chest and the anger drained out in a gurgling rush through his guts, down his legs and out the bottom of his burning feet. He whispered, “Esperanza is here. I won't leave her.”

A strangled sound came from the shadows. He looked close, noticing what he hadn't before: moonlight shone off two silvery tracks on her cheeks.

A churning hunger rose to fill the vacuum left by the story. Every slight he'd endured, every grief-stricken night, every wrong he'd withstood and committed coalesced, filling him with an unwanted craving. He fisted his shaking hands to hold it in—to not reach for her. Because no matter the cost, he couldn't take something that hadn't been offered—something he hadn't earned.

They stood, eyes locked, the tension between them as palpable as the crackle of ozone before an electrical storm.

She broke first. Stretching out a hand, her sad eyes reached into his gut, touching where it hurt. “I want—”

His hands took her bare arms and hauled her to him. When she'd have stumbled, he held her up, taking her with cruel, starving kisses, taking what he could no longer breathe without.

And she gave.

She matched his need, tearing at his hair, climbing him to wrap her long legs around his waist, moaning when he bit her lip. He took a step, resting her bottom on the porch railing. She tore at the buttons of his shirt. He ran his hands over the satin-smooth skin of her legs, from her ankle to the edge of lace at her panties. They were damp.

It almost sent him over the edge. His tongue parried with the thrusts his hips wanted.

He didn't want to think. He was sick to death of thinking. He wanted to feel.

Ripping his shirt from his jeans, she unbuttoned it and pulled it down his arms. He had to let go for just a second, to discard it. But that was too long. He sucked the skin under her ear, at the hollow of her collarbone. “I need you.” The words broke from him.

“Take me.” Her breath in his ear shot straight to his crotch. His cock strained against the denim prison. She reached down, running a palm over him. “Hurry.”

He looped a finger through the lace at the top of her thighs. The scrap tore easily. Then she was in his hand, plump, moist, hot.

“Hurry.” She panted.

“But...I wanted...” His breath came in short bursts, catching on something in his throat. “This isn't the way...I don't have anything.”

“It's okay.” She leaned back enough to look him in the eye. “Trust me.”

He memorized the moonlight on her lust-soft features—he wanted to burn the vision on the surface of his mind, for when he was gone.

Zipper teeth released and her fingers closed around him, tugging. He bucked his hips and moaned. She guided him to the hot center of her.

He needed to plunge, to bury himself in her warmth, to take what she so freely offered. But he couldn't. She was damaged, and this was her first time too.

She whimpered.

“Look at me.” It came out a growl from his clenched teeth. He'd made so many mistakes...he wasn't making another. He fisted a hand in her hair and pulled her head back. Her neck, pale and exposed, made him want to bite it.

Her slitted eyes begged him to. “I'm not going to break. Please.”

He plunged into her with one violent thrust. She closed around him, a tight velvet furnace.

She made a guttural sound, deep in her throat. It sounded like, “More.”

He took the skin of her neck in his teeth and plunged again. And again, speeding up, trying to catch the pulse at his core, always just a bit behind. She strained too, her heels digging into his butt, her nails into his back.

Closer.
Frantic, he slid his hands to her butt and pulled her to the top of his hip bones. Her muscles clenched in the most intimate embrace. She screamed release into his mouth. He took it and ground into her, the explosion hitting him like a wall, light bursting on the backs of his eyelids to fall in a shower of sparks.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I
NDIGO
CAME
AWAKE
with a click. From the delicate blush on the ceiling, she deduced dawn was just breaking. The weight on her chest turned out to be an arm. She carefully turned her head. Danovan lay on his side, head on his arm, sleeping. The taut lines of his jaw looked softer in this light. In his sleep-slackened face, she had a glimpse of a young boy.

After hearing his story last night, the niggle of doubt no longer whispered warnings. She understood why he'd lied to get the job. She didn't like it—but she understood. Her gaze snagged on the razor-line scar through his eyebrow. She'd never see it as a sexy flaw to his almost perfect face again. The scar went much deeper. It had hurt to witness his story's telling last night, but all she could do for him was to stand and listen. Take his story, his pain, hoping to ease it.

But what happened after that had nothing to do with sympathy.

She had experienced three kinds of sex in her life. For the first, she'd been gratefully unconscious. The second was Harry.

Harry's lovemaking was like a soaking spring rain.

Danovan was a Category 2 hurricane.

Turning back to the ceiling, she watched the line of sun slowly inch across.

She hadn't known... Cheeks burning, she was grateful for the few moments alone with her thoughts before she'd have to face him.

After the explosion of pain and lust on the porch, Danovan had carried her inside, and they'd spent most of the night exploring the more subtle shades of a storm. He'd awoken her body with mumbled kisses and worshipful hands. She opened to him, and he made her feel...too much.

The emotions he'd churned up hadn't settled with sleep. She felt raw, as if he'd scoured off her protective layer, leaving her exposed. Hurricanes could do major damage.

Danovan was so close she felt it when he took a deep breath. “Good morning, beautiful.” He watched her with sleepy eyes and a one-sided smile.

“Um, hi.” She rolled away, face flaming, and sat up, holding the sheet to her chest. “I'd better...” Dammit, where were her clothes? She barely recalled him unbuttoning her dress on the way to the bedroom. She shot a glance around the room. Not even a bra? Or her underwear? Not like they'd cover much anyway, but she was not parading in front of him butt-naked.

“Where are you going?” He hissed in a breath. “Oh, God.”

At the light touch on the back of her arm, she twisted back to him.

“Indigo, I hurt you.”

Bruise fingerprints dotted her biceps. That must have happened when he lifted her...

He trailed fingers down her neck “Oh, shit, Indigo, I'm sorry.”

Judging from the small aches, she had bruises there, too.

“It's okay—”

“No, it's not.” The guilt in his eyes touched bruises inside her. “Come here.” He put a hand at her waist to tug her back into their close-quarters nest.

“I—I've got to get up.” There wasn't so much as a washcloth to hide her body beneath. “I've got to do my yoga and get breakfast and feed Barney...” Trying to cover her body with words, she made a dash for the bathroom, not breathing until the door closed behind her.

How did she get herself into these—
Oh, crap.

The cold reflection of last night in the mirror slapped her. Her eyes were as wild as her hair, her cheeks were scoured with beard burn and loving bruises flowed down her neck. She touched them, unable to avoid knowing any longer.

She'd enjoyed it. Enjoyed everything that Danovan had done to her body. Everything she'd done to his. She forced herself to face the truth in the mirror. She hadn't only enjoyed last night; she'd wallowed in it.

And she felt as if there should be a big red
A
carved in her chest.

Unable to bear the acid wash of shame, she moved to the shower and twisted the knobs.

She and Harry had a good sex life. They'd come together in a soft, loving place. A safe, sheltering place. Nothing about last night had been safe. She stepped in and let the water cool her hot face. Danovan had made her scream.

And she wasn't yet strong enough for that.

If she could hardly face herself in the mirror, how would she face him? Work with him?

Once again, she'd gotten herself into a mess, and she'd have to bumble her way out of it.

Ten minutes later, wrapped in her floor-length dressing gown, her hair in a towel, she stepped out of the bathroom.

Danovan, in jeans and no shirt, sat on the bed, bending to tie his shoe. When he sat up, his chest, stomach muscles and the line of hair that disappeared into the waist of his jeans made her fingers curl with wanting to touch. His hair was as wild as hers had been, and beard stubble darkened his cheeks. But it was the soft look in his chocolate eyes more than the hand he held out that pulled her across the room to sit on the bed beside him.

He took her chin, gave her a kiss then scanned her face. “Are you okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn't I be?” She tucked away the tail of the towel on her head. “But we've got a busy day, finishing cleanup from yesterday.”
Was it only yesterday?
“It really went better than I—”

“I'm not referring to the business.”

She tightened the belt of her dressing gown.

“I know that last night was the first time you've been with a man since your husband. If you're feeling a little weird, I think that would be natural.” His gaze was making her stomach jump.

Barney walked in, crossed the room and sat, tail thumping the floor, grinning at them.

Saved by a dog collar jingle.
“Good morning, Barn.” She bent to stroke his ears. “You want some breakfast?”

“Indigo.”

His deep voice brought her head up. If he wasn't going to let it go, she'd have to say something. “Last night was...” Nothing she was prepared to talk about. “Look, the winery is at a critical stage. It's going to take everything we have to make this fall's crush a success.” She stood. “I think we need to focus on that.”

When he stood, he brought with him the scent of their lovemaking. The memory of his fierce eyes and taut face above her weakened her knees with the longing to sink back into that sex-tousled bed.

Focus, Indigo.
To pull her mind from her hormone-soaked thoughts, she imagined standing in front of Sondra, her face telegraphing lust when Danovan walked in. That worked.

Until Danovan took her hands, turning her to face him.

To keep him from saying something she wasn't ready to hear, she blurted, “I really would rather the other employees don't know that...that we...”

“That we are in a relationship?” He looked calm, serene, even.

In a...
“Danovan, I—”

“Please don't.” He put a finger to her lips. “Don't deny us this. It's a good thing. Possibly the best thing, for us both.” He squeezed her hands. “If you need time, you've got it. The next move is yours. If you don't want anyone to know, I can live with that. Just please don't say that when we're alone—that I can't do this.” He cupped her cheek and kissed her. It was deep and honest and open, as if there were nothing to worry over—nothing to fear.

It made her want so badly to believe.

He stepped away. “Now, about the business. I'm going to make you a deal. Because I owe you.”

“You don't—”

“Oh, yeah, I do. I lied. And for you and me to have a chance...” He glanced at the bed. “You have no reason to believe me. I've destroyed your trust, and I couldn't live with myself if you ever wondered if I tried to manipulate—” He looked at the ceiling and blew out a huff of frustration. “Look. Here's the deal. If you agree, I will stay at The Widow long enough to teach you everything you need to know to run this business.”

When she tried to talk, he raised a hand.

“And I'm not taking a paycheck in the meantime.”

“But—”

“I've made up my mind. These are the only terms I'll work under. Take it or leave it.”

* * *

A
WEEK
LATER
, Danovan stood at the bottom of the drive, stretching, waiting. When Indigo had mentioned wanting to get back into jogging, he'd invited her to join him on a morning run. He lifted his foot and pulled it to his butt, feeling the stretch in his thigh. He hadn't run since he took this job, but that was changing, starting today. He hoped she could keep up.

It was weird. In one way, they'd become closer the past couple of weeks. At work they were simpatico to the point of finishing each other's sentences. The open house had doubled the foot traffic in the tasting room, and they'd signed several local restaurants and bars. He sensed in her none of the reticence he had before; she was all in.

But outside of the winery, she was busy. Too busy to go out, too busy to stay in and hang out, too busy to even grocery shop together. Granted, her woo-woo side business had picked up. She'd added another yoga class, and her massage clients were cutting into her evening hours. Even the entire bicycling troupe now lined up for massages after their ride.

And lying in bed at night imagining her hands all over those men was getting old.

Finally, desperate for some time alone with her, he'd suggested running together, even though these morning runs had always been his solitary time. He jogged in place while he waited, trying to stay warmed up. June temps soared during the day, but the mornings still held the damp cool that the vines loved.

He wasn't oblivious. He knew that Indigo had second, third and probably tenth thoughts since the incredible night they'd spent together. She hadn't been ready. He'd known that. But in telling her about the night he lost Esperanza, the emotion he'd stuffed away had come back, concentrated from the compression. Once he got started, it wouldn't be stopped.

You're a selfish bastard.

Indigo was a fragile, still-grieving widow. He'd known it. But it hadn't stopped him from diving into her open arms. He fancied himself an educated, cultured man, yet that night he was little more than a brute. The memory of her bruises made him want to beat the crap out of himself. Since that was a physical impossibility, he'd been doing it mentally.

He wanted to be a better man. He wanted to be the kind of man who deserved a woman like Indigo Blue.

He looked up at the sound of running on asphalt. Indigo jogged down the hill toward him, pushing a...
wheelbarrow
?

It was a wheelbarrow. And in it, riding like a pasha in a litter, sat Barney.

When she stopped in front of him, laughing, his heart lightened. He put on a mock-stern face. “Really?”

“Hey, Barn and I logged hundreds of miles in the Hollywood Hills, with him in a Radio Flyer.”

“Yeah, but everyone knows people in Hollywood are weird. They expect it.”

“Dude. Love me, love my dog.”

If only it were that easy.
He sighed. “Okay, but if anyone sees us, it's going to put a serious dent in my reputation.”

“Oh, quit your whining and try to keep up.” She took off.

Watching her from behind, he kind of hoped he couldn't. He'd happily chase that athletic body and those sky-blue jogging shorts all day. Until the damned dog sat up, obscuring his view. He sped up to come alongside her. Her hair was pulled back into a high, curly ponytail that swayed as she ran. Her relaxed face made him realize it had been a long time since he'd seen it that way.

“God, it's beautiful here, isn't it?” Her cheeks were pink with the exertion, her lips red.

“Sure is.”

Looking straight ahead, she smiled. “I'm talking about the scenery.”

“Oh, yeah, that too.”

They ate up ground as the road wound between hills the color of corn silk. Live oaks gathered in the hollows, hovering over the road. The sky had lightened, but the sun hadn't yet risen above the hills. His muscles warmed and his body came alive, humming like a well-tuned engine. He pulled in damp morning air, breathing easily. When the endorphins kicked in, he remembered what he'd missed all the months of mornings he'd skipped running, going to work instead.

They ran for a long time to the sound of their shoes slapping on the pavement and the gossip of birds. No cars passed. He decided to take his shot. She couldn't ignore him out here. “Why are you avoiding me?”

Her profile didn't change. “We're in the middle of nowhere. The closest living thing is that cow we passed a while ago.” She breathed easily. “We work together twelve hours a day. I'd hardly call that avoiding.”

“And yet I'm starting to feel like our night together was my imagination.” He got a couple of pants in. “I know I was a bit crazed that night. But I thought... Why won't you go out with me?”

“Do you want to rest?”

He shook his head. “You feel like you cheated on your husband, don't you?”

Her head whipped around.

“It's not a huge leap. You loved him. He's all you've known.” He kept his eyes front, hoping she'd be more relaxed if he was offhand about it. “I'm probably very different than him.”

He took her silence as assent and hoped to hell he was right.

“I don't mean to push you. I just want you to know that I'm here.” He crammed words between trying to breathe. “You take all the time you need. I'll wait as long as it takes.” He touched her arm. “But you should know—”

Her brows tented over worried eyes.

“I miss you.”

She stopped in the shade. “I think we'd better head back.” She put down the handles of the wheelbarrow and squinted at him. “Are you feeling okay?”

Apparently her worry wasn't for his feelings. He stopped and leaned over, hands on his knees, catching his breath. “So now my missing you means I'm having a heart attack?”