Not Until You: Part VI (6 page)

Before he could think it through, he stepped forward. “If the lady doesn’t object, she can stay here for the day. I have unoccupied cabins at my vineyard. She’s more than welcome to use one, and I can check on her every few hours.”

Charli’s attention slid to him, her eyebrow lifting beneath the knot on her forehead. “You have a vineyard?”

He chuckled. No doubt his muddy jeans and plaid work shirt didn’t scream that in addition to his covert side business, he ran one of the most successful wineries in Texas. He held out his hand. “Grant Waters, owner and operator of Water’s Edge Wines.”

She took his offered hand, and Grant felt the slight tremor go through her fingers, caught the quick-as-lightning glance at the open collar of his shirt, the slight hitch in her breathing.
Well, well.
His body warmed in a wholly inappropriate way at her subtle signs of interest. He quickly dropped the handshake and stepped back.
She’s had a blow to the head, horn dog. Reel it in.

Theo crossed his arms and nodded in Grant’s direction. “I can vouch for Mr. Waters. I’m a guest at his . . . vineyard cabins all the time. You’ll be comfortable and safe here.”

“And I can drive you back to town tomorrow,” Grant offered, trying not to sound as eager as he felt. “I have to go into Dallas for a business meeting anyway.”

She smirked and the faint freckles on her nose twitched. “You’re not some serial killer rapist, right? Because I’ve had a shitty enough night already.”

The unexpected comment made him laugh. No, he wasn’t a serial killer rapist. But the way she bit her lip after making that comment had his less-than-pure thoughts driving up to an NC-17 rating.

“Nope. Just a rancher and winemaker.” And owner of the most elite BDSM resort this side of the Mason-Dixon. But that wasn’t something she needed to know about him.

At least not while she was concussed.

But later . . . well, later was ripe with possibilities.

He’d always had a thing for freckles.

Roni Loren
wrote her first romance novel at age fifteen when she discovered that writing about boys was way easier than actually talking to them. Though she’ll forever be a New Orleans girl at heart, she now lives in Dallas with her husband and son. Visit her online at www.roniloren.com