Her eyes were drifting shut as he buried his nose in her hair. Softly, she whispered, “Jammer?”
“Yes?”
“If I didn’t have leverage, would I have ended up like Joost and Dieter?”
There was only silence in answer to her question. It spoke volumes.
CALLIE WOKE TO THE MOST delicious scents, her nostrils flaring at the smell of freshly cooked eggs, mushrooms and peppers and the heavenly fragrance of coffee.
“Caffeine,” she murmured against the downy softness of the pillow. “This had better not be a dream.”
She heard a low chuckle and suddenly realized that she was alone in the big bed.
“Come on, sleepyhead. It’s time to rise and shine.”
“Just five more minutes, Mom.”
He laughed and then said, “I’ve got omelets and coffee. I even made fresh-squeezed orange juice.”
“Okay, then I think I’ll keep you around for a decade or so. Gimme.”
She emerged from the covers and discovered that he was carrying a tray and had nothing on except an apron tied around his taut middle.
“Eggs and a naked man. What more could I have asked for?”
“How about cream in your coffee?”
“Pour it on, buster, and give me a fork and a napkin. The fork for the eggs and the napkin for my drool.”
“At your service.”
“You can service me later. I’ll eat now.”
He set the tray in front of her, and without hesitation, Callie dug in. She groaned at the first bite as she discovered that Jammer had also used a little salsa in the omelet. The combined taste of the peppers, mushrooms and salsa stimulated her taste buds until they were dancing. “Damn, Jammer, your cooking is spoiling me for other men.”
He frowned at that. “Then I’d better stop.”
“This is the heartiest breakfast I’ve had in a long time. Are you trying to fatten me up?”
“You’re going to need your energy today.”
“Why is that? Are we going to spend the day in bed?”
His eyes flared at that, but he smiled and shook his head. “No, it’s harvest time. Don’t you want to see what we do here?”
“Oh, I’d love to.”
“Then finish up and have your shower. I’ll go first so I’m not tempted.”
He turned and walked away from her, giving her an eyeful of the perfectly muscled globes of his ass. “Nice butt,” she said. He threw a look over his shoulder, grinned and shut the bathroom door.
True to his word, Jammer drove her in a small cart down into the vineyards, where the clusters of grapes were heavy on the vine. Many people were already there, easily detaching the fruit with small curved knives.
At least, Callie thought it was easy until Jammer put one of those curved knives in her hand and started teaching her the maneuver.
“Leave a little bit of stem on the end, so we can handle the cluster,” he said, showing her a whole different side to him. A patient side.
Together, shoulder to shoulder, they harvested all the way down the row.
The sky was beautiful, the air washed clean from the short thunderstorm the night before. The temperature was perfect to be out in her black tank top and white peasant skirt.
As she moved along, she put the grapes in yellow buckets to be picked up by the truck.
“How did you get involved with this vineyard?” she asked, checking to make sure no one was in hearing distance.
“It was a cover, pure and simple, a place for me to escape to when I wasn’t traveling. Who would have guessed that I would love it? Jim was great in teaching me what I needed to know. At first he assumed I was one of those corporate types making an investment in a business I was totally ignorant about. I think he was surprised when I caught on and started running it. Then he was worried I would let him go, but of course I need someone here when business calls me away.”
He turned to look at her with a perfectly content smile. She brushed a leaf out of his dark hair, returning his smile. She bent back to the vines, trying to decide how big a fool she was for letting herself get caught up in Jammer. Really caught up in him, so that she almost believed in this fairy tale.
She gave herself a reality check. This wasn’t going to last. This beautiful place would be seized by the government. Jammer would be tried, convicted and condemned to a very long prison sentence. Callie would go on to the next mission.
She had to keep that firmly planted in her head. She would play her part to the fullest. But standing in the bright sunlight, she dreaded the moment when she would reveal who she was. She dreaded the look in his eyes and the expression on his face from learning he had been so deeply betrayed. She wished she could avoid that, but was too much of a Watchdog agent to let anyone else collar the Ghost.
The grapes were taken to the crush pad and they started to unload them. The physical labor felt good, and Callie was interested in every aspect of the production of wine.
Jim started running the grapes up a conveyor belt that took the clusters into the de-stemmer, a machine that also cut the grapes in half and made pulp out of them. She watched as the grape pulp was pumped into what Jim called a “bladder press” that squeezed out the juice.
By the time this process was complete the sun was dipping in the sky. Callie was sitting on the edge of the loading dock, resting, when Jammer came up to her and said, “Want to help me out?”
“With what?” she asked. His expression was full of mischief.
“A tradition.”
“Really? What type of tradition?”
“Stop asking questions and come on.”
He slipped his hands around her waist and very slowly let her slide down his body.
“Does this tradition involve something hard?”
“Yes, in a way.”
“Lead on.”
He brought her around the end of the crush pad to a wooden vat set up next to the building. A short set of stairs was pushed close to it.
She walked up the little flight of steps and looked inside the vat. It was filled with tons of grapes. “You want to what? Crush them?”
“Exactly.”
She laughed. Jammer went over to a CD player and pushed a button. Beautiful Italian opera poured from the speakers. Callie laughed again.
“Jim, if you would do the honors.”
Jim came over with a bucket and indicated that Callie should remove her sandals and dip her feet into the water. Jim gave them a quick scrub and then it was Jammer’s turn.
“Everything’s been de-stemmed so you won’t hurt your feet,” Jammer explained.
Callie stepped down into the vat, finding the grapes warm from the sun’s rays. She tucked her skirt into her waistband and started to walk on the grapes.
“Squishy. So this is something you do every year?”
“Yes. Jim says it makes the wine better to have some grapes crushed the old-fashioned way. Who’s to argue?”
“It’s fun,” Callie said as she started to move a little faster, pumping her legs up and down.
Jim poured each of them a glass of wine. Callie sipped and crushed, releasing the juices, the sweet smell of the grapes permeating her senses, heightened by the wine.
Around and around they went, until the grapes beneath their feet turned into pulp. Juice started to fly up as they continued to wade through the mush, the haunting Italian music a perfect backdrop to a perfect day.
At one point, she looked over at Jammer. His clothes were rumpled, his hair a tousled mess, and he had a hint of beard stubble shadowing his jaw. She’d seen him in a suit; she knew how well he cleaned up. But her heart lurched at the carefree look on his face. This was the real man under Jammer’s sexy and tough facade.
The real man who turned toward her and got caught by her eyes as if she’d reached out and touched him. She reveled in the knowledge that Jammer couldn’t see her without wanting her. An ache spread inside her, a tangible thing that took on a life of its own.
Everything that touched her was warm-the grapes beneath her feet, the waning sun, Jammer’s dark eyes. Her breath hitched and stammered in her lungs as he drew close to her. The music swelled into an arching crescendo that brought tears to her eyes.