than striking immediate sparks. But that left an odd note lingering in the air. They just stared at each other for a long moment. And it was like everything in the air around them went elastic, stretched, then held tight.
“Nice to know.”
She had hoped that his voice, his words, might banish that strange threat of tension. But it didn’t. No. If anything, it felt worse. Because there was something about that voice that seemed to shiver over her skin, leaving goose bumps behind.
“Don’t let it go to your...head.” His eyes dipped down, to her lips, then lower.
“Let’s drink wine,” she said, far too bright and crisp and obviously trying to move them along from whatever was happening now.
“Did you bring some for me to try?”
“Yes. I have a crate in the car...”
“I’ve got it.” He extended his hand.
“What?”
“Keys?”
“Oh.” She dug in her purse for her key fob, and clicked it twice. “It’s open.”
He went outside and returned a moment later with a crate full of wine bottles slung up over his shoulder.
And it was... Well, it was impossible for her not to admire all that raw male beauty. His strength.
He had big hands. The muscles on his forearms shifted as he slung the crate down with ease onto the table, beginning to take the wine bottles out. They looked small in those hands. For some reason, she had an immediate image of those hands on her hips. All that strength, all that...largeness...
That was another thing.
She felt outside a lot of experiences here. And she had never... Well. Not with a man like him.
All of her past relationships had been based on having things in common. Liking each other. Being able to see a potential future, where she served as the appropriate ornament, and they served as the appropriate accessory.
The kinds of people who fit into each other’s lives with ease, and because of that decided to make a go at fitting into bed with each other.
As a result, she hadn’t had the most exciting sex life. It had been fine.
But she never had a wild...well, a wild anything.
She hadn’t gone out to bars and hooked up.
Creed Cooper was a bar-hookup kind of guy. She just had that feeling.
That he was the kind of man women saw from across the room, all warm with whiskey and the promise of bad decisions, and thought... He looks like a terrible choice.
Before gleefully climbing on.
She had never done anything like that and there was something about him that made her think of those things. If she was honest, made her yearn for those things. A rough, bad decision like the kind she’d never made before.
“Let’s get to pouring,” he said.
And so they did. Portioning out samples for each other to try.
Infinitely safer and better than her standing there pondering the potential badness of climbing on top of Creed.
“Should we start here?” He picked up a glass of Maxfield Chardonnay.
“It’s as good as any as far as I’m concerned,” she said. Though, now she was feeling fragile and like maybe she shouldn’t be drinking around the man. Her thoughts were doing weird things. But she’d been in a weird space since she had driven away from the house today. Or maybe, since even before then.
She was familiar with this wine, and it was one of her favorites. Citrusy, with notes of white peach and apricot. It was a decent wine for her mood because of the tartness.
“Nice,” he said. “Very nice.”
“I thought it might pain you to admit that,” she said.
“Not at all. Actually, I would be disappointed if I didn’t like your wine. Because I would hate to be in competition with somebody who was terrible.”
“I suppose that’s a fair call,” she said.
“Us next.”
He offered her Cabernet Sauvignon, and the notes were completely different from the Chardonnay. Smoky oak and rich espresso. It reminded her of him. Full-bodied and rich. Tempting, but a very bad idea to overindulge in.
“Nice,” she said.
“A compliment from you,” he said dryly. “What an achievement.”
“Not one I would think you’d care about.”
“I didn’t say I cared. I was just remarking.”
“You’re irritating,” she said, taking another sip of the wine. They moved through the wines, and she felt a looseness in her limbs. Relaxation pouring through her. She knew how to taste wine without getting drunk. So she had to assume the feeling had something to do with him. Which was honestly more disturbing than thinking she might have overindulged.
“Why shouldn’t I be irritating? You’re no better.”
The smug male arrogance