Summer in Napa - By Marina Adair Page 0,96

she felt him get close, he pulled back and slowed down.

Lexi had always enjoyed sex, but she realized that she had never been made love to until now. Until Marc.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, staring down into her eyes, making sure that she was right there with him, enjoying every second. She was. She enjoyed every kiss, every touch, every time he filled her.

She ran her hands down his back and grabbed his ass, pulling him closer. “More.”

“Thank God,” he mumbled, taking her mouth with his. His hips moved faster, deeper, and right when she knew that he couldn’t hold back any longer, he groaned out her name. Her whole name.

Just the sound of her name falling off his lips, rough and raw, took her over the edge. She broke apart in his arms as he gave a final push before collapsing on top of her. They were a tangle of arms and legs, panting and sweaty, and yet Marc took care to make sure he didn’t crush her.

A few minutes later he asked, “You okay?” When she didn’t answer, he lifted his head. “I’ll take that smile on your face to be a yes.”

She nodded, and he rolled off her and went to the bathroom. Returning to bed, he immediately pulled her close. He brushed her hair aside and pressed a warm kiss on her forehead.

“I assume that was your number-one dream.”

“I thought it was. But now I think I’ll have a new one.”

“What’s that?”

“This.” He tightened his arm around her waist, holding her snug against him. “Now go to sleep. Your man wants a big breakfast in the morning.”

CHAPTER 15

Lexi stood at the back of the St. Helena Courthouse. Even though she was strategically positioned by the door in case she needed to make a quiet escape, she could still smell the roasted figs and baked gorgonzola wafting from her dish, which sat at the front of the room.

She warily glanced around the courtroom and felt a bubble of panic rise up. The room was large, with a domed ceiling and enough mahogany benches and paneling to build life-sized replicas of the Niña, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria. Which was a good thing, since half the town had turned out to see who would win: a disaster of a divorcée or a busty gold digger. The judges were seated, in the jury box to be exact, the plates had been served, and rumor had it that Mrs. Rose, current wine commissioner, was allergic to peanuts. Lexi didn’t know if pistachios would be a problem, but she noticed that Mrs. Rose was picking out anything remotely nut-shaped.

“Why is Mrs. Rose sitting at the judge’s bench?” Lexi whispered to Marc, who stood right beside her. He was wearing khaki shorts and a gray UC Berkeley tee that did amazing things to his eyes, and looked relaxed and irritatingly sure of himself. Then again, his talent wasn’t on the chopping block.

He tilted his head in her direction, and for a moment Lexi thought he was going to kiss her. Something warm and soothing washed though her. Then he dropped his voice and spoke, and Lexi realized that he just hadn’t wanted to be overheard.

“The only way she’d agree to give up her Saturday skeet-and-trap-shoot time was if we held it in the county courthouse with her as presiding judge. ChiChi even snuck into the judge’s chamber and borrowed Judge Pricket’s robes and gavel.”

“Don’t forget that Nate had to cough up a case of his new reserve,” Abby added, coming up from behind to join them. She wore a cute sundress that highlighted her figure. The woman might be vertically challenged, but she was a mass of sleek curves. “He was pissed.”

Lexi looked up at Marc, who winked. He had been about to kiss her, she thought giddily, but then Abby had crept up. Not able to look at Marc without going warm, she turned her attention to the other DeLuca brother in question.

Nate sat in the jury box, wedged between Hard-Hammer Tanner and an empty seat, with the mayor on the far end. He was glaring at Frankie, who was chasing Simon around the witness stand and glaring back.

Simon Baudouin had the markings of a dairy cow, the body of a small boar, and the face of a gremlin after a head-on collision. Showing his fangs, he skirted around Frankie with a low snort and barreled toward the jury box.

“Simon, stop,” Frankie snapped.

Simon did stop, his fat belly shaking

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