Something in the Wine (40 page)

Despite her doubts, Drew didn’t hesitate. “Of course I am,” she said softly. She handed back the moonstone.

When their fingers touched, a spark of electricity raced up Drew’s arm. Her body tingled.

Maybe Annie felt the spark between them too, because she paused with her fingers touching Drew’s. Instead of taking the moonstone from her, she entwined their fingers. The moonstone that was trapped between their palms seemed to pulse in the rhythm of their heartbeats.

“Magic,” Drew whispered.

Looking deeply into her eyes, Annie nodded.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

With their hands still linking them to each other, they moved closer until Drew felt Annie’s body heat. A strand of Annie’s hair brushed Drew’s cheek, and Drew reached up with her free hand to comb it back. Her fingertips slid over Annie’s temple, stroking the soft skin there.

Annie tilted her head and leaned into the touch.

Slowly, giving Annie ample time to stop her, Drew slid her hand down, along Annie’s cheek, then back to her neck, where she drew tiny circles with her fingertips.

A shuddery breath escaped Annie and fanned hotly over Drew’s forehead.

Goose bumps broke out all over Drew’s body.

With only inches separating them, Annie leaned down and paused. Her gaze sought Drew’s and then darted down to her lips.

Drew lifted her head and, closing the gap between them, touched Annie’s lips with her own.

So soft.

Her body struggled against it, but Drew forced herself to move back an inch after one single peck. She opened her mouth to ask Annie if she was okay.

Before she could ask, Annie leaned down and kissed her again.

Heat shot through Drew. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she pressed closer.

Annie’s lips started to move against Drew’s.

Drew moaned into the kiss. When Annie’s free hand slid down her back, Drew flicked out her tongue and teased the corner of Annie’s mouth.

With a gasp, Annie parted her lips.

Drew’s knees weakened. She had never felt anything as erotic as the feeling of their tongues sliding against each other.

The ducks’ excited quack-quack interrupted the moment.

Breathing heavily, Annie pulled back.

Drew’s eyes had trouble focusing, but after a moment, she realized they had dropped the moonstone. It had landed on the edge of the bridge, and the female duck was inching closer, apparently thinking the white stone was a piece of bread.

“Shoo!” Annie waved her hands. “This one’s mine.”

When Annie bent to pick up the moonstone before the duck could reach it, Drew drank in her slender form. “Am I?” she whispered.

Annie straightened.

They made eye contact.

Then Annie smiled. “Yes,” she said, sounding more confident than Drew had expected.

While the duck huffed out one last quack and paddled away, they stood grinning at each other. After a few moments, they reached for the other’s hand, and with the moonstone safely held between their clasped palms, walked back to the car.

Chapter 21

Half a dozen people were clogging the gallery’s entrance when Annie arrived. She squeezed past a bearded man and a woman in a salmon-colored minidress. Someone from the gallery’s staff approached her to take her coat, but Annie shook her head. She didn’t want to wait around later for someone to hand her the coat once it was time to leave, so she slipped out of her coat, folded it, and carried it over her arm.

She declined a glass of champagne and craned her neck, looking for her mother. Finally, she discovered her in front of one of her paintings, where she was explaining some details to a visitor.

Annie walked over and waited for her mother to look up.

“Darling! How nice that you could make it.” Despite Annie’s protests, her mother pressed a glass of champagne into her hands.

Annie placed it on the tray of a nearby waitress. “The art opening looks like a big success.”

“Yes, it is. I’ve sold two paintings already.” Her mother beamed. She took a step back and studied Annie. “You’re wearing a dress?”

For a moment, Annie debated letting her mother think it was in honor of the art opening, but then she said, “I’ve got a date later tonight.”

Her mother led her through the gallery and stopped in front of a painting. She glanced at Annie, then back at her colleague’s creation. “A date with ...?” She trailed off and let Annie complete the sentence. It had been a week since Thanksgiving. Even though they had spoken on the phone twice, this was the first time her mother had asked about Annie’s new relationship in any way.

Annie inhaled deeply before she let the breath escape. “With Drew, yes.” In fact, it was their first official date, and just thinking about it made butterflies the size of sparrows take flight in Annie’s belly. “I’m not dating anyone else. Drew says hi, by the way. She’s sorry she can’t make it. She wanted to come with me, but she needs to cover the tasting room until seven.”

Silence settled between them as they wandered from painting to painting, looking at each of them for a minute or two.

“Does she make you happy?” her mother asked after a while.

The question caught Annie by surprise. She stared at her mother. As far as she could remember, her mother had never asked her a question like that. For a moment, Annie thought about just giving the shortest possible answer. In the past, her parents had always been satisfied with that because their interest in Annie’s life ran only skin-deep—at least it always seemed so. But if she wanted to give her parents a chance to participate in her life more fully, she had to open up and show them the kind of communication she wanted. “I’ve never relied on anyone for my happiness.” She strolled to the next painting and thought about her words. “But I think I’m finally learning to. Drew shows me every day that I can trust her to be there for me, no matter what.”

Her mother nodded and followed her. For a few moments, silence settled between them, then her mother asked, “What do you think of that one?”

Annie suppressed a sigh. It seemed her mother’s attempt to connect and really talk to each other was over already. She turned her head to look at the painting her mother was indicating. On the canvas, fog swirled through a dark pine forest. “It’s kind of depressing.” The painting didn’t fit her mood at all. Depressed was the last thing Annie was feeling. Excited to see Drew later, nervous about their first official date, yes, but not depressed. She shrugged. “But I’m not an expert. Art is your passion, Mom, not mine.”

They turned a corner to the next artworks.

Annie stumbled to a stop and stared at a painting of a beach.

The setting sun seemed to float on the ocean, dipping it in orange. Waves sprayed rocks that jutted into the water and rained down on a group of sunbathing seals. Their fur gleamed like bronze.

In the painting’s foreground, a couple knelt on a blanket that covered the tiny pebbles. The glowing light of the sunset surrounded them like a halo and made their features unrecognizable, their shapes revealed that both were women. The smaller, stockier one had one arm stretched out, offering something in her hand. The other woman’s fingertips were about to touch whatever rested on her companion’s palm.

This is us, Drew and me!
Annie shook her dazed head.
God, what are the chances?
Her gaze darted to the painting’s title:
Heart’s Offering
. She swallowed. Could it really be? She stepped even closer.

The pebbles instead of sand, the build of the two women, the blanket in front of a piece of driftwood ... the painting’s details fit too well for it to show any other couple.

That day on the beach, Drew had given Annie the moonstone, not her heart. Still, the artist had apparently sensed some sort of romantic connection between them.

If Annie was honest with herself, she had sensed it too, but she had blamed it on the setting, on their plan to trick Jake, on anything but her growing feelings.

Not anymore.

She turned to her mother. “
Heart’s Offering
. Who painted it?”

Her mother stepped closer and glanced at the initials in the corner of the painting. “That’s one of Bridget’s. She’s around here somewhere.”

Annie scanned the crowd of artists and visitors wandering the gallery. “Can you point her out to me? I want to buy her painting.”

“I thought you don’t care about art,” her mother said.

“I care about this painting.”

“If you like the seascape, I can give you one of mine that—”

“No, Mom,” Annie said before her mother could go into a detailed description of her own painting. “I don’t want just any seascape painting. This one is special.” She couldn’t keep her gaze off the seascape. The artist had captured the magic of that moment so well. She reached into her coat pocket to touch the moonstone.

It wasn’t there.

Her mouth went dry. She searched her other pocket.

Nothing.

With trembling fingers, she rifled through her purse. A lump formed in her throat.

The moonstone was gone.

Oh, God, no.
Had she lost it when she had taken off the coat?

“Special?” Her mother interrupted her panicked thoughts. She still studied the painting through narrowed eyes. “What’s so special about Bridget’s painting that you would prefer it over one of mine?”

Christ, now her artist’s ego is hurt.
Why did her mother have to make everything about herself? Annie lifted her hand, interrupting her mother’s lecture about the quality of the brushwork and color choice. “It’s not about artistic value. This is personal.” She looked at the painting again and fought the urge to run her finger over the smaller figure. “I think it’s a painting of Drew and me.”

A chuckle escaped her mother. “And here I always thought you didn’t have any imagination.”

Ouch.
She should have known that her mother wouldn’t change completely overnight. “No, Mom, really. When we were at the beach three weeks ago, there was a woman with an easel.” She pointed at the painting. “That’s us.”

Her mother took her glasses from her purse and put them on. She bent and looked at the painting again. “Are you sure?”

Annie nodded. She remembered every detail of that day at the beach vividly.

“But I thought you haven’t been ... you know ...” Her mother gestured wildly and finally left it up to Annie to fill in the blanks. “... for long?”

Haven’t been in love? Haven’t been a couple? Haven’t been sleeping with Drew?
She hadn’t yet, but that was none of her mother’s business. “We just admitted our feelings to each other on Thanksgiving, but they’ve been there for quite some time,” Annie said. “Now can you please get Bridget for me? I have to leave in twenty minutes, or I’ll be late for my date.”

Her mother sighed. “I’ll get her.”

* * *

Dating had never been comfortable for Annie, but now as the hostess led her to the table, she felt like throwing up. The clinking of cutlery against plates and the low hum of conversations sounded overly loud. She felt the gazes of the other restaurant guests like pinpricks on her skin, but when she glanced at the diners, no one was looking her way.

Then she caught sight of Drew, who was already seated at the table.

Drew glanced up.

Their gazes met.

For a moment, the noises in the restaurant receded and everything seemed to move in slow motion.

With a bright smile, Drew stood and approached her.

A pair of dark gray slacks clung to her rounded hips and muscular thighs. A baby-blue blouse, its sleeves rolled up, contrasted nicely with her tan. Annie’s gaze was drawn to the bit of smooth skin that the two open buttons on Drew’s blouse revealed. She swallowed.

Drew looked as if she had dressed with care; yet with her rolled up sleeves and open buttons, she still seemed entirely comfortable in her own skin.

In contrast, Annie felt like a child playing at being grown-up in her burgundy dress.

“Hi,” Drew said. Her raspy voice sent shivers down Annie’s spine. “You look beautiful.”

Annie smoothed her hands down the sides of her dress, very aware that the hostess was still within earshot. “Thank you. I went back and got the dress.”

“I’m glad you did. It looks wonderful on you.” Drew took another step closer and reached for her.

Annie’s heart leaped.
Will she kiss me in front of all the other customers?

But instead, Drew hugged her.

Annie put her arms around Drew’s back, at the same time relieved and disappointed that Drew hadn’t kissed her. She mentally shook her head and chided herself for her foolish thoughts.

Drew held on longer than the polite two seconds that Annie was used to. Instead of just touching her shoulders, Drew pressed her whole torso against Annie’s in a full-body hug.