The Saxon Brides: Mistaken Mistress. Tessa Radley
him. He wished that her story had not moved him so much. He wished that the senseless attraction to her would cease.
He should have more sense than to want Alyssa Blake.
“You know, Joshua, I never thought that every splendid sunset means the death of another day—and that time is passing by at an alarming rate.” She looked up at him, her eyes a haunting purple that would seduce him if he let them. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe my life has become too fast.”
A long-waited sense of satisfaction curled inside him. The impulsive words escaped him before he could curb them. “I didn’t think I’d see the day that Alyssa Blake might admit that she was wrong.”
Her eyes narrowed, the purple depths no longer soft as they shot sparks at him. “You’re pretty fast, too. Vineyard manager of a sizeable estate. CEO of Saxon’s Folly. Mentor to a full staff. Architect of employment practices that business schools studied,” she reeled off his successes. “Are you any better? Saxon’s Folly is a big business. You’re the boss where the buck stops. Surely you’re driven to achieve? Surely you set goals?”
He should’ve know she’d come back fighting. “Touché. Sure I do. But I’m not obsessed by goals.”
“You’re implying that I am?”
He shrugged. “You know my philosophy. Here at Saxon’s Folly enjoyment is fundamental to the wines we make. How can people enjoy our wines, if the people who work with the wine don’t have fun making it?”
She shook her head dismissively. “That’s a pile of codswallop. I told you that back when you tried to sell me that line in the ten minutes you granted me for a Wine Watch interview.”
“I was busy. You caught me in the midst of the harvest with a bad forecast on the way.” He paused, not liking how defensive he sounded. “And I firmly believe that the happiness of the staff shows in the finished product.”
He could see her fighting to hold her tongue. She wanted to tell him that his concern and benevolence was nothing more than an act. He could see it in her blazing eyes.
Finally she said, “You didn’t strike me as the crusading type.”
His own anger was rising. “No, you preferred to view me as the type who could dismiss someone arbitrarily.”
Alyssa took up the challenge. “So why did you dismiss Tommy Smith? He maintained he was victimised, that you made his life a misery. That your ‘happiness’ philosophy was a sop.”
“You know that’s not true, you discovered he was dismissed from his next job only three months after I fired him. I know that the vineyard owner advised you.” He’d asked Michael Worth to let her know. Her low opinion of him had rankled. It still rankled.
“That was long after the story was published,” she protested. “And it was different. That time Tommy was dismissed for a sexual harassment of a fellow worker.”
“And you don’t think that I dismissed him for the same reason?”
Alyssa looked at him in horror. “That’s why you dismissed him? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“The last thing the victim needed was the story spilled over the papers.”
“So who—”
But Joshua was shaking his head. “Sorry, I’m not at liberty to say. Even off the record.”
Alyssa thought back to how dismissive she’d been of Joshua in the story she’d done, how she’d championed Tommy, the underdog. Her stomach rolled over. Had she misjudged Joshua … and Tommy … so badly?
Then her misgivings receded as he said with the arrogance that she’d come to associate with him, “Forget it. It’s over and done with.”
Any lingering liking for the man vanished.
A cool sea breeze swept over the hill they’d traversed. Alyssa shivered and rubbed her hands briskly up and down her arms, feeling her flesh prickling under the fingers of the wind.
“You’re cold. We should go.”
But Alyssa didn’t move. “I didn’t know that he’d harassed one of your staff. And by withholding that essential piece of information, how could I present your side of the story?”
His mouth curled. “I wasn’t prepared to break my word to someone who trusted me simply to satisfy your curiosity.”
Impasse. “But it cost you and Saxon’s Folly.”
He slanted her a cynical smile. “And lost Wine Watch any respect I’d previously held for the magazine.”
“And any respect you might have had for me.”
“Yes.”
Annoyance—and disappointment—surged within her as he confirmed his poor opinion of her. What had she expected? A denial? Maybe. So when had his opinion become so important? She tried to brush the hurt away with a flippant comment, “So you didn’t respect me the morning after the magazine hit the newsstands?”
The brightness of his eyes intensified. “That’s what you want? My respect in the morning?” There was a sudden simmering heaviness in the air that hadn’t been there a moment earlier.
“Joke,” she said hastily, “that was a joke.” And, as much as she craved his respect, the crack had not been appropriate. Alyssa could’ve bitten her tongue out. “My mouth runs away from me sometimes.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Funny, I had you pegged as calculating rather than impulsive. I have the impression that you think rather carefully about every word that comes out of that delectable mouth.”
And suddenly he was much too close. Blood rushed to her head, she could feel herself flushing. Alyssa tensed. Yet even as she pressed the lips he’d mockingly referred to as delectable tightly closed in annoyance, she experienced another betraying flare of heat.
Joshua’s expression didn’t change. But a muscle in his jaw tightened, the only warning she had. Alyssa didn’t move. His head lowered, slowly, his lips parting. She felt his breath against her mouth and a wave of desire ripped through her. His mouth claimed hers. For a moment he stilled and then his tongue entered her mouth, and Alyssa melted against him.
His body was big and warm and she no longer felt chilled. His arms came around her, pulling her against him. She was fervently conscious of the hardness of his chest beneath his shirt, of the flimsy cotton of her own shirt and her nipples tightening with excitement. So when his fingers slid into her hair, cradling her head, holding her exactly where it was comfortable, all her senses responded and he kissed her with deep intensity.
The tingle started under the touch of his fingers against her scalp and spread down her spine, along nerve pathways she hadn’t known existed, until Alyssa felt like every inch of her flesh was electrified.
He lifted his head. “You taste of peaches.”
Alyssa opened her eyes, stunned by the emotion that had exploded within her, and stared at him blankly. “Peaches?”
“Luscious and sweet like a fine Prosecco.” His mouth came down again before she could retort. She couldn’t help noticing he tasted of the wind, cool and wild with a hint of mint.
The kiss was thorough, his tongue exploring her mouth, the soft inner skin, the sleekness of her tongue until Alyssa felt that he’d overpowered her senses. She clung to his shoulders, not wanting it to end, not sure whether her legs would support her if he let her go.
When he finally raised his head, her breathing was ragged. He slid his hands down behind her back, linking them, supporting her, their lower limbs touching. Denim brushed against denim. Intimate. A whisper of sound that carried in the velvet silence of the evening.
Alyssa glanced up and found Joshua watching her.
“So, can you respect