“Can’t spin it when it’s still full. Now”—he patted the empty spot next to him and spread open a bag of, sweet Jesus, éclairs—“tell me about your day so we can get to the celebrating part.”
“I think that is deserving of a bite of my éclair,” Lexi said, smiling up at him with those big green eyes and holding out the end of the pastry.
Problem was, Marc wasn’t in the mood for an éclair. He wanted to sink his teeth into a cream puff. The one sitting so close he could smell her shampoo, her skin, the sweet and spicy fragrance that was uniquely Lexi.
“You go ahead,” he said. “You need all the food you can get, since you’re already drunk.”
“I’m not drunk, just a little tipsy.” She smiled, and holy shit, he was screwed.
Not only was she a few sips past tipsy, she was dressed in one of those soft, flirty dresses that made women feel feminine and made men think of sex—which made the ever-growing problem in his jeans even harder to hide. Her hair only made things worse. It was loose and shiny and tumbled over her shoulders, brushing his arm every time she got excited about a topic and felt the need to press into him, like she was doing now.
Marc reached out and grabbed the empty bottle to keep from running his fingers through her hair, which would lead to his hands all over her body, which would lead to sex. Right here in the pantry.
Over the last several weeks, it had become apparent that not only had Jeff been less than honest about his divorce from Lexi, he’d never treated her right to begin with. But no matter how big of a jerk his friend had been, no matter how badly he wanted Lexi, Marc wasn’t that guy. He didn’t take advantage, and he didn’t poach. Ever.
But if she didn’t stop touching him and looking at him like he was some kind of freaking hero, his good intentions might just lose out.
“So you have the celebrity-judge thing all figured out?”
“Pretty sure, but I’m waiting for the guy to sign on the dotted line before I say anything.”
“Judge found and you organized a tasting committee to make sure that tomorrow night is fair. All in less than eight hours.” She patted his arm, and a potent shot of lust ignited in his gut and dropped lower. “And people say you’re just a pretty face.”
“I still have a dog on the jury.”
“Which you’ll fix.” She popped the piece of pastry in her mouth, her tongue peeking out to lick off every single finger. “People will be talking about this for years, Marc. You brought their beloved Showdown back to St. Helena.”
He felt his neck warm. “It’s just a wine tasting.”
“No, it’s not, and you know it. Not to this town and not to you.” Lexi leaned back against the wall, her head thunking against the exposed brick as she stared at the ceiling. For a second they were both silent, then her head lolled toward his. “You did this for your parents, huh?”
Marc swallowed. He did not want to talk about his parents. Not here, in this small room, where the outside world didn’t exist, where the past seemed tangled with the present and the woman in front of him felt so much like his future. “I thought we were going to play spin the bottle, not truth or dare.”
“I never played that with anyone but Abby,” she said, her sugary breath skating across his face.
He blinked. “You played spin the bottle with my sister?” Definitely not the image he wanted, but maybe, he thought as he took in just how close her lips were to his, the one he needed.
“No, I mean I played truth or dare with Abby. I’ve never played spin the bottle.”
Marc wondered just how many other normal high school experiences Lexi had missed out on, dating Jeff all those years. He also wondered what kind of secrets she kept. Knowing that this might be his only chance to find out, he said, “All right, I’ll play, but we go three rounds, and you’re next. I get to ask any question I want, and you have to answer.”
She considered his terms briefly and then offered him a sassy smile. “Agreed. But I might just choose dare.”
Even better.
Marc took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I wanted to host the Showdown at the Napa Grand to