It was hard for Zenna not to think about Etán. She thought about his failed marriage, and she thought about his kiss. It was the single, most intoxicating, passionate kiss she had ever been given in her entire life. Every time she thought about it, her body heated. She trembled imagining what Etán could do to the rest of her, if that was the way he treated her lips. She wondered why any woman would have walked out on a man like him.
To her dismay, Etán’s forbidden cellar kiss drifted to her mind as easily as if on a magic carpet. One minute she was translating a wine description, and the next, wham, it was there, like a genie from a bottle. Her mind genie betrayed her often, slipping from its lamp and recollecting the moment, when she had decided so firmly to block it out. It had been a silly mistake, one she should have avoided, because now its spell was torturing her.
She felt like Eve who had taken a bite of the forbidden fruit and now wanted more. She wanted the whole apple—skin, pips, core, and all. Admitting to her wants would be embracing defeat, a sure way to be hurt again. Besides, it was only a physical reaction, surely?
No matter how much she denied it and reasoned around it, the memory and her shocking need for more tortured her as she watched Etán dictating something to Emmie in the sunny morning light of the office. He wore those tight jeans and an open shirt that gave a hint of the taut muscles and abs it hid from sight.
She sighed. Absent-mindedly, she chewed the end of her pencil, forcing her thoughts back to the Viognier 2011 she was trying to pin down in English. Clear, pale yellow ... delicate floral notes of white blossoms... Her thoughts began drifting again.
Despite her untimely lust, she was adapting rather well in Etán’s household. She had grown accustomed to his routine, and to the long hours. Through the window, she caught a glimpse of the team outside pruning the vineyard. She had learnt a lot about the process of making wine, both from Etán and from his staff, and was enjoying her job tremendously. The latter part came as a surprise. She hadn’t expected to find joy in her temporary employment, but she loved the challenge. It was a welcome change after the seven tedious years of teaching Spanish.
Etán shot her a glance from where he stood next to Emmie’s desk, and only then did Zenna realize she was staring. She quickly looked down at the paper in front of her and pretended to be reading as Etán finished his conversation and crossed the floor.
He paused in front of her desk. “Everything is pretty much in place for the launch from a production point of view. Our older vintages are being prepared for sale this week. The racking and blending is on schedule for early August.” He propped his hands on his hips.
“I know I’ve been neglecting you lately by not having been around much. Our launch update meeting is scheduled for next week, but let me know if you need to discuss anything sooner. How are you doing on the organizational side?”
“The venues are booked, menus and bar lists decided. Invites have gone out. The RSVP date isn’t until next week. We won’t know final numbers until then.”
Zenna looked down at her checklist. “Equipment hired. Flights booked. Hotel booked. Press releases gone out, both to the printed and electronic press. Media has been invited, as well as the guests of honor, the buyers, and experts on the list you gave me.”
She tapped the pencil on her desk. “Let’s see. The only thing left to do is to finish the translation of the leaflets and get it to the printer by the end of today. We have one promoting the estate, history, awards, stats and all that, one on all your cultivars, and another on the three new wines you’re launching. The first English drafts are on your desk. I’m just waiting for you to sign off on them. I’m battling with this little Viognier here, but I’ll have the brochure ready by the end of today. I’ve also suggested some changes to the original Spanish text of your estate brochure. I think there’s room for improvement.”
Etán’s eyebrows shot up. “When did you ever get to do all of this? Am I a slave driver?”
She smiled. “I get to the office two hours earlier than you, remember?”
He groaned. “And I thought I was an early riser. Good job. I’m impressed. I may beg you to stay on forever, if you keep up this quality of work. I’m afraid I’m underpaying you.”
Those juicy lips pouted. He noticed the glossy, red lipstick that made them seem fuller. Her slanted eyes shone, the yellow, cat-like specks sparkling. “We both know that’s not true. You’re paying me way too much just because your mother asked you to help me.”
Etán pushed his hands into his pockets. “I do always try to please my mother.”
“Mommy’s boy,” Zenna teased.
Etán’s eyes glanced over the ankle-length wool dress that hugged Zenna’s body. The tight fit suited her well. It accentuated her feminine hips. It had a long slit along the side, and he couldn’t help but notice the gracious curve of her calf in the black stockings. With it, she wore patent leather boots with wickedly high heels. His gaze slipped from where her ankles were casually crossed under the glass top of her desk, up the bend of her generous thigh, to the high neckline of the dress where a silver chain with a red stone lay on top of the hidden cleavage of her breasts, drawing his attention to the small, firm mounds.
“Something wrong with the way I’m dressed?” Zenna looked amused.
Etán didn’t blink as he forced his eyes back to her face. Plenty was wrong with the way she was dressed. She looked too good. She had been wearing pretty outfits for days on end now, and he was just about at his wits’ end. He fought for control. Yes, there was a lot wrong with the way she was dressed. He would prefer her without the dress. No. He had promised himself it was forbidden territory. He wasn’t going to go there.
He kept his attention on her enchanting face. There were light circles under her eyes. He could hear her tossing and turning at night. He knew she had been working late and had gotten up early every morning.
“Zenna, why don’t you go home early, today? After the brochure, we’re pretty much done. Leave the sticky Viognier to me. You’re ahead of schedule, anyway. You can do with some rest. Believe me, you’ll need your strength for the launch.”
Zenna looked uncertain. “What exactly would I do with myself, except for being bored?”
Etán inched closer to her desk. “Read? Sleep?” He paused. “Go out?”
Zenna’s eyes were big pools of laughter. “Are you ordering me to go out tonight?”
A rare smiled plucked at the corners of his mouth. “I could, if you wanted me to.”
Zenna raised an eyebrow. “Are you having company, tonight? Want the house to yourself? I could go to Luca’s...”
Etán grinned. “You like to tease, don’t you? If you don’t have something in mind, I’ll take you to a proper restaurant. I still owe you a decent meal. We never got around to that. I promise, no poached eggs or bird seed.”
Zenna leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “Is Teresa off tonight?”
“Caught out.” He backed away from her desk, making for his office. He held up both hands, showing her eight fingers, while his lips mimed the word ‘eight’.
Zenna almost laughed out loud. Etán could be lighthearted when he tried.
That evening, in a warm restaurant decorated with everything that lived under the sea, Etán pulled the chair out for Zenna. She removed her coat, which he took from her.
“I didn’t make an effort to change,” she said apologetically. “I really wanted to get the final drafts to the printer before we headed out.”
She pulled at her dress. She really wished she hadn’t picked up those extra pounds during the last few weeks. She was pretty sure the dress wasn’t this tight when she left London. Being dumped always drove her to eating. She sat down, folding her hands.
“I’m glad you didn’t. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in a baggy T-shirt and sweat pants, or pajamas, for that matter.”
Zenna snorted at the joke, and flushed at the memory. “Since wearing baggy tracksuits and pajamas only seemed to get me either dumped or arrested, I’m resorting to wearing decent clothes.”
Etán laughed at that. “I don’t care what you wear. I don’t think you can ever look indecent.” He reflected for a few seconds. “Correction. I can picture you in black, tight and sexy. Very indecent.”
Zenna threw her napkin at him. “Oh, stop it,” she scolded. “Am I ever going to hear the end of this?”
“Only if you promise to cook for me, soon. I’m being tormented with visions of hot curries and flaming, brandied sirloin steaks that you planted in my mind.”
Zenna took back her napkin and draped it over her lap. He was in such a good mood. He was probably pleased with the way the blending of the wine was going. “I don’t have a problem with that. I like cooking, but I’m not sure Teresa is going to like the interference in her kitchen.”
“My kitchen,” Etán corrected. He held the glass the waiter had filled with wine to hers. “On a job well done. I’m impressed, Zenna. It takes a lot to impress me.”
“Thank you,” she said, pleased. “I’m glad if you think I’m earning my way and not simply some kind of charity project.”
When the waiter reappeared, Etán closed his menu. “Shall I order for both of us or does that go against a modern woman’s rules?”
No one had ever ordered on her behalf. She thought it would have annoyed her, but somehow it made her feel strangely pleased to leave her appetite in Etán’s hands. “Go ahead.”
He ordered Peruvian style sea urchins for starters and centolla, Chilean king crab, for the main meal.
Zenna smelled the greenish, pale yellow wine. “I’m surprised you ordered anything other than Sol y Sombra.”
“I want you to get to know our competitors. This one, a Pavo Real 2009 Sauvignon Blanc, is not bad. Not my style, but original.”
Zenna twirled her glass the way he had taught her, and took a sip. When she saw the darkening of his pale eyes, she knew he was thinking of that stolen kiss in the cellar they now both tried so hard to pretend had never happened.
“Crisp, but juicy,” she said, hastily. “Citrus ... and something ... green. A hint of green tea?”
“Green tea? Very creative, but no. We refer to that strong, greenish taste as grassy. Do you taste the subtle, underlying tropical fruit?”
The waiter put the starters in front of them. Etán poured water for Zenna. “I hope I’m not working you too hard, Zenna,” he said, his eyes meeting hers.
She took a distrustful small forkful of the urchin. “Why would you think that?”
“You seem tired. I know you’re not sleeping well. Sometimes, when I work late and have too much on my mind, I tend not to sleep well either. I don’t want you to sacrifice your health for the sake of a temporary job.”
Zenna looked up quickly. Sometimes, rather more often of late, she tended to forget it was only a temporary job. “How would you know I’m not sleeping well? You can’t smell it, can you?” She shot him a teasing look.
He didn’t take her bait at making humor of the subject. “I hear you toss and turn all night,” he said seriously.
Zenna rested her knife and fork on her plate. The sea urchin wasn’t something she was going to develop an appetite for any time soon.
“I didn’t realize sound traveled so well through the walls. I must have kept you up too. Sorry about that. Don’t worry, it’s not the job.”
Etán signaled for the waiter. He ordered a Peruvian ceviche starter for Zenna.
“That’s not necessary,” she protested.
Etán lifted his hand, waving her protest aside. “Want to tell me what’s really bothering you, if it’s not work?”
Zenna looked away, resting her chin on her shoulder. She couldn’t tell Etán she had been having flashes more frequently since she moved into his house. Sometimes, she had them in her dreams now. It was always the same. The girl in the bathroom. She was starting to grasp some kind of an emotion behind those visions, but it still eluded her. Maybe because she didn’t really want to go there. The headaches kept her up after those dreams, but they were not as bad as the ones she had after a full-blown vision while she was in a state of conscious wakefulness.
“I’m a bad sleeper,” she finally said, and met his eyes, because it wasn’t a lie.
“Chamomile tea.”
She pulled a face. The waiter brought her new starter and placed it in front of her.
Etán watched her as she took a small bite of the raw fish, marinated in lemon juice, onions, chili, and fresh coriander. He smiled as her face filled with appreciation. She actually closed her eyes for the second bite.
“Mm,” Zenna licked her lips. “This is tasty.”
“Glad you like it.”
His smile increased during the main course, as he feasted on the sight of her digging into her meal. She ate with uninhibited pleasure and indulgence. When she licked the centolla sauce from her fingers, he had to look away. It was almost too much to bear. It was an act of seduction, of which she wasn’t even aware.
They ordered coffee instead of desert. Zenna yawned when Etán paid the bill. It wasn’t too late, but he knew the first five weeks of work had taken its toll. It was no easy job.
Etán draped her coat over her shoulders before they left the restaurant. As they walked toward the parking lot, two hundred yards from the restaurant Zenna suddenly stopped dead.
“What is it, Zenna?”
She was looking at a billboard erected on a skyscraper on the opposite side of the street. It was an advertisement for a new, fashionable brand of men’s underwear. A handsome, well-built, blond male stood, legs slightly apart, his thumbs hooked into his unbuttoned jeans, revealing the underwear of the same name splashed in bold, red letters over the board. He looked down at the street from his superior position on higher ground, his stare a pure, seductive invitation.
As Etán followed Zenna’s gaze, he realized why she had stopped. It was the dirt bag, Marcos. The piece of scum whose nose he still felt like breaking.
Zenna shook her head in disbelief. “Oh, my God. I guess it’s not his hands he is advertising, after all. And so fast?” Her eyes widened, a light of comprehension passing through them. “I guess he started modeling way earlier than he told me. Lying son of a bitch.”
Etán took her elbow. “Come on, let’s go,” he urged gently.
Zenna followed him blindly to the car. She got in when he opened the door for her, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes. Etán knew better than to speak as they drove back to the estate.
Forty minutes later he cut the engine and watched her sleeping next to him. He debated over whether to wake her or let her sleep, and finally made up his mind. He got out, opened her door softly, lifted her from the car, and carried her to the door. He had to fiddle with his keys a couple of times before he managed to unlock the door.
Teresa had left the lamps on in the entrance and in the hallway as well as in both their bedrooms. Her bed had been turned down, so he lowered her carefully onto it before removing her boots and untwisting the strap of her handbag from her arm. He opened her coat, but didn’t remove it for fear of waking her. Then he pulled the goose feather comforter up to her waist, checked the heater in her room wasn’t turned on too high—Teresa had a tendency to fry them—and switched off the bedside table lamp.
Once in his own bedroom, he undressed, showered, and slipped into his own bed. The bed he had once shared with Sanita. He still sometimes felt the pain of her absence, even after a year, and he could fully comprehend Zenna’s shock with being confronted with a full-blown, life-size poster of her asshole ex-boyfriend. He still thought about Sanita, but not as much as before. It wasn’t a fire that consumed him in agony any longer. He realized with a start he had not thought about her much since Zenna had walked into their lives. He groaned inwardly. Either time was finally having its healing effect or Zenna was to blame for certain effects he’d rather not acknowledge.
He couldn’t shake the feeling of responsibility, of protection, that raised the hairs of his neck in quiet alarm. The fear of failure was suffocating. God help him if he failed yet another woman. His soul wouldn’t survive.
* * * *
A few hours later, a strangled scream woke Zenna. It took a few seconds to register it had come from her. She was still dressed and wrapped in her coat. Perspiration pearled on her forehead. She sat up and touched her face. She was hot.
The door to her bedroom flew open, and Etán rushed to her side. “Zenna! What’s wrong?”
Shaking her head, she looked at him, still confused. “A dream.” She pushed her feet from the bed. “What happened? Did I fall asleep in the car? I’m sorry ... I didn’t mean to ... that never happens to me ... I was so tired.”
He helped her remove her coat. “You’re soaking wet.”
“What time is it?” She glanced at the clock. Four in the morning. “Sorry I woke you.”
“That’s all right. Do you want some water?”
She wiped the hair from her forehead. “Yes, please.”
She watched Etán walk to the bathroom and fill a drinking glass with water, before carrying it back to her.
“Thank you.” She drank it all.
Etán sat down next to her on the bed. He took the empty glass and placed it on the bedside table. “Want to talk about it?” He laid his palm protectively on her back.
The warmth of his hand soothed her. He was big, and strong. He only wore pajama bottoms, his bare, manly chest close to her. She wanted to curl into a ball and stay in his lap, like a pathetic kitten. Before she could help herself, she laid her head on his shoulder. His arms went around her, instinctively, and he held her until her body relaxed against his.
Etán’s only intention was to offer to make her a cup of chamomile tea, but instead, his hand slipped down her back and stroked up her side where he could feel the soft curve of her breast under the warm dress. Her face turned, her lips close to his jaw, and it took only a small movement of his head for their lips to meet.
A tremor ran down his spine as her hands trailed up his arms and down his back. She moaned softly against his lips, the vibration sending a thunderous sensation through him. He had to pull away, but she tasted so good. He nipped at her lips with his teeth, raked them over her tongue, and tasted the corners of her mouth.
Zenna wanted to melt into the man whose strong arms kept her close. She had always been the first to label kissing as overrated, but that was before Etán kissed her. Could there be anything better? His tongue sent sparks of fire through her body. He was demanding, exploring, and in charge. For once, Zenna didn’t want to feel in control, didn’t want to take the lead. She wanted to go wherever he wanted to take her, and it was clear where. Her fingers slipped to his hair, grabbing at its black thickness. She didn’t care. She didn’t care she wasn’t supposed to do this. In that moment, she wanted it more than anything. She gave in to the temptation, feeling the self-imposed restraints fall from her body, and lost herself in that precious present with all her mind and soul.
Then, he pushed her away. Her eyes flicked open in confusion. Etán’s gaze was fixed on her lips still moist with his kiss.
“I don’t want you to regret something you may be doing on the rebound.”
Zenna looked at him, wide-eyed with hurt. “You think I’m doing this because I’m on the rebound?”
Etán got up. “Why else? You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?”
She kept staring at Etán. Was she? Was she still in love with Marcos? Of course she was. Wasn’t she? She had to be. He was the man she wanted to marry. Frustration born from confusion and need pummeled her. “Must you over-analyze everything?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not your typical one-night stand kind of a guy, Zenna.”
His insult hit like a slap in the face. “And I am? A one-night stand type of girl?”
“That’s not what I said,” he retorted. “I said fucking isn’t going to solve anything for you.”
Zenna jumped up, her face flushed. “I don’t recall asking you to sleep with me.”
“It’s called fucking, baby, not sleeping, and that’s exactly where we’re heading.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You son of a bitch. At least call it having sex, if you can’t force yourself to say making love, and that is not where I was heading,” she lied, trying to salvage her broken pride.
He stepped closer to her. “Believe me, sweetheart, if I wanted to, that is exactly where you would have been. On your back in the middle of that bed. So, say thank you, like a good girl, that I am a gentleman who didn’t take advantage of you.”
She inhaled deeply, her breath shaky. “For your information, I don’t like it on my back,” she said icily. “Get out.” She pointed at the door. “Get out, now! You’re a rude man, and I don’t want to look at your arrogant face for another second.”
It looked as if he wanted to say more, but finally he turned for the door. In the doorway, he looked back. “Take a cool shower. You feel like you’re running a fever. We’ll talk about these dreams in the morning.”
“I’ve just about had it talking to you,” she hissed.
Zenna tried to hold onto the shreds of her control as she stood, shaking with anger, alone in her bedroom. She would deny it to her very last breath, but Etán was right. If he hadn’t stopped them, she would have slept with him. A part of her wanted that more than anything, and, right now, she hated that part. God, she couldn’t get involved with him because her heart hadn’t been completely destroyed by Marcos. She knew she would heal. Could recover. A man like Etán had the power to crush her, and she would never be the same again.