Jack bowed his head, as if he were studying the burned edges of the leaves that had fallen to the ground. "I wish I knew. She died the year of my first bottling'

"I'm so sorry' Rose said, squeezing his hand, cursing herself for bringing up a painful subject. He looked up into her eyes, a small smile on his lips. "I named the wine after her. Viviana." He looked up at the blue, clear sky and said, "I'll bet she's looking down at us, delighted that the grapes are as much of a pain in the butt as she sometimes was. It's her fault that I've been fighting for these grapes, year after year." She couldn't help but laugh at the wonderful, all-encompassing love in Jack's voice. Even when he was insulting his grandmother, the love shone through.

"You're laughing, but it's true' he insisted. "Viognier grapes aren't resistant to disease. They can't be picked too early or too late. I had to throw out every case of wine my second year because it was such god-awful swill. Unfortunately, I didn't figure that out until I served it to one of the top food critics in the country and she spit it out all over the rug in my living room."

Barely stifling a giggle, Rose said, "I take it you got good press out of that?"

Jack groaned. "Don't remind me' he said. And then, as if they weren't smack-dab in the middle of a conversation, he did the strangest thing. He stripped out of his jeans, and, naked save his mud boots, he went running through the vines.

Could her life get any weirder? Still, she couldn't resist following his gorgeous, streaking path up a small hill, straight to the most glorious swimming pool she'd ever seen.

With the most glorious naked man in all creation standing on

the edge, waiting to dive in.

JACK WOULD HAVE NEVER THOUGHT of coming to the pool , without Rose's help. But as soon as she'd said she wanted to go for a walk through his vineyard, he'd begun to visualize water sliding between them, caressing Rose's curves.

He'd been so caught up in this vision of their next erotic adventure that it had taken everything in him to speak coherently about his grapes. Fifty feet from the huge pool surrounded by grapevines, he'd torn his clothes off like a madman and jogged up to the water, then waited impatiently on the edge for Rose to join him.

Worst case, Rose would think he was a nutcase. Best case, she'd find his actions spontaneous and romantic.

He prayed for spontaneous as she came into view at the top of the pond. "Come here' he said, as he watched her take in his nakedness. Her eyes were wide, and he hoped she liked what she saw, because he was as erect as he was ever going to be.

Rose, sweet, delectable Rose, continued to be full of surprises. He barely had time to blink before she ripped off her dress and jumped into the water. A hand reached out for his ankle, and he was falling in. He sucked in a breath just before his head went under, and instead of coming up for air right away, he opened his eyes and reached out for Rose as she tried to swim away.

The sight of her spectacular br**sts swaying so provocatively underwater, of the sweet curve of her ass wiggling side to side as

she flutter-kicked undid him.

Jack had spent thirty-six years without Rose in his life. But he knew with every fiber of his being that he could not go another day without her.

Swimming naked in his pond with Rose wasn't the time or place to make declarations. He knew that. And yet, waiting another moment would have been too long.

They came up for air, and he stared across the blue water at her. Rose belonged to this place, to his home, to the vines and the kitchen and his bedroom. The bottom edge of her dark, shiny hair, barely straight even with the heavy weight of water on it, brushed against that spot on her collarbone she loved to have kissed. She was a goddess of the vines. A queen of the mountains that sheltered them, mountains that he wanted to explore with her, making love in the caves, beneath a pine tree, in a cool, clear stream. He walked through the water to her, swimming when it grew too deep. And then she was in his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist.

He bent his head to kiss her, but before he did, he said, "Stay with me, Rose. For more than this weekend." She pulled away. "What?"

"You belong here. In Napa. With me."

He would have taken her mouth right then, but she unwrapped her legs too quickly. "It hasn't even been twenty-four hours," she said, panic underlying her words.

But Jack was sure of his feelings. "Let me convince you, Rose," he whispered.

Like magic, she floated back into his arms. "You barely know me' she said.

"Oh, but I do: he said in the instant before his lips found hers. Soft, he wanted everything to be soft, gentle. He wanted to tell

her he loved her, that he'd always love her, but he knew it was too soon, that those words might scare her away. Instead, he'd take his time loving her. He'd show Rose that she was the most special, most incredible woman he'd ever met. That he'd ever meet. That she was the beginning and the end for him. But all his intentions could not overcome his desire to possess her.

His lips went from soft to hard, his tongue swept possessively into her mouth. He bit down on her bottom lip and she cried out, but the sound was passion, not pain, and his teeth continued their path of delicious destruction down her neck. Her pulse leaped beneath his tongue, racing in time to his own heart, but he wasn't done nipping his way down her soft skin. His lips sucked at her collarbone, his tongue dipped into the hollow, and then he cupped her br**sts with his hands.

His mouth followed, roaming every silky inch of her skin. First :! one breast and then the next. Her ni**les hardened beneath his thumbs, tempting him to lave the hard, tight nubs with his tongue. Again and again, until Rose was writhing, crying beneath him, wrapping her legs around his hips.

He felt her warm, wet heat as she sank onto his cock, and he thanked God that he'd put on a condom as he'd waited for her by the edge of the pool. She threaded her fingers behind his neck and tossed her head back, leaving her tits open to his mouth, his hands. She rode him faster and faster, and he had to touch her. Had to feel her soft curls, her plump pu**y lips, the swollen core of her desire.

His hand slipped down her belly. He got no further than her pubic bone before he lost control. With firm strokes he pressed his fingers into her clitoris. Pumping into her with his cock, pressing into her with his hand, Jack roared his pleasure into the quiet Napa valley sky.

EIGHT

ROSE UNWRAPPED HER ARMS from behind Jack's neck. Turning away from him, she swam to the edge of the pond. Hoisting herself out of the water, she pulled on her borrowed dress as quickly as she could, shoving her feet into the mud boots before hightailing it back to his house.