Falling Into You (Bachelors & Bridesmaids Book 5) Read online

  "You can let go of me now," he said, slanting a look in her direction.

  She started at his words and then slowly peeled her fingers off his shirt. "Sorry."

  "No problem. It might be easier if you got off first, although I won't have as nice a view."

  "Right." Maggie tried to hold down her skirt as she swung one leg around the back of the bike and eased herself to the ground. She took off her helmet and shook out her hair.

  The look Cole gave her was as potent as a glass of wine, and she felt a delicious tingle run down her spine. If she wasn't careful, she was going to get drunk on Cole today.

  "What did you think of the ride?" Cole asked, as he stashed their helmets.

  "It wasn't bad," she said, deliberately under­stating the surprising sense of freedom she'd felt.

  He grinned at her. "Well, don't knock yourself out with compliments."

  She smiled. "Fine. It was actually more fun than I expected."

  "I knew you'd like it. There's still a little rebel inside of you, Maggie."

  "I wouldn't go that far. Are you ready to drink some wine?"

  "Absolutely," he said, as they made their way to the wine tasting room.

  For the next half hour, they toured the winery, learned about its history and the variety of grapes planted on the ten acres adjoining the building, and sipped cabernet sauvignon and merlot, which were both excellent.

  Then they walked back to the bike and spent the next two hours touring three more wineries. Maggie felt a little buzzed after the fourth wine tasting, so they stopped at a roadside café and got sandwiches to go, eating their food at a picnic table under a thick patch of trees at the back of the store.

  "This is good. I needed something to soak up the wine," Maggie said, as she took another bite of her vegetarian wrap.

  "Me, too," Cole replied, making quick work of his roast beef sandwich. "I didn't care much for that last selection of wine. Too dry."

  "I agree, and the winemaker was far too pretentious."

  "A first-class snob for a third-class wine."

  "Exactly. My grandmother used to say if you're going to brag, you better be able to back it up."

  "What did you brag about?" he asked with a smile.

  "Actually, I think Grandma was talking to my brothers, not me. They were both cocky. Jared was a star athlete. He was a quarterback for one of the high school football teams. Keith was a starting pitcher and a big baseball star. He actually got recruited for the pros, but he went into the Army instead."

  "That's quite a choice," Cole commented.

  "He wanted to follow in my dad's footsteps; they both did."

  "Did you ever consider enlisting?"

  "God, no," she said with a shake of her head. "I wouldn't last a minute in basic training. I don't like physical exertion, getting dirty or weapons. I can't even imagine being a soldier."

  "Or a soldier's wife."

  "Or that," she agreed. "My mother was the perfect soldier's wife. She never complained, always supported my dad, and held the family together when he was gone."

  "And she made great pies."

  "Yes. What about your mother? Did she bake?"

  "Not really. My dad was actually the better cook, but both of them were more interested in other passions like music and art. My mother paints when she's not selling real estate or working whatever day job she's picked up that week. I remember many nights growing up when I'd come home from a practice after school just starving and my mom would be on the porch painting the sunset and my dad would be in the garage working on another song. The stove, of course would be cold. But they were always happy to order out when I reminded them to eat." He smiled. "They were great parents. I have no complaints. I admired their passion. But it was probably good they only had one kid. I don't think there was enough room in their lives for more."

  She was beginning to realize that Cole's desire for freedom probably hadn't just come from a bad marriage and a demanding job; he'd had to be responsible for a long time. As a child he'd been the one to think about food, the one to remind his parents to order take-out. No wonder he just wanted to be free.

  "Did any of their artistic talents rub off on you?" she asked.

  Cole laughed. "Not a single one. I was terrible at the guitar, worse at painting, and I wasn't interested in either. I played sports when I was a kid. I liked soccer and track."

  "We're back to running," she said with a smile.

  "Yes. What about you? No sports in your past?"

  "I was pretty good at volleyball, but that was about it. Since we moved around so much, it was hard to get on to teams. My brothers never had problems because they were so good, but I was barely mediocre. I did like to dance though. I took Irish dancing for quite a few years."

  He nodded. "I can see that. You look like you have some Irish in you."

  "I do—from my grandmother. The red in my hair comes from her. My mom said I inherited my temper from her."

  Cole gave her a doubtful look. "You have a hot temper?"

  "When I see injustice. I can't stand when things are blatantly unfair or if someone is just being unkind."

  "That sounds like the good side of a temper."

  "I didn't know temper had a good side."

  "Sometimes it just means you feel passionate about something."

  As she gazed into his eyes, she felt that passion he was talking about, and it was for him. She frowned, angry with herself for breaking her own rules and letting down her guard again. It was just a shame that the more she got to know Cole the more she liked him. Usually, it went the other direction.

  She crinkled up her wrapper and changed the subject. "That wrap was really good. It hit the spot. I was getting a little fuzzy from the wine. Maybe we should skip the next winery and just go home." Then she could return to her normal life and get Cole out of it.

  "There's one more winery I want to go to. It's on a hill, and apparently you have to take a gondola ride to get there. It sounds cool. Have you been to it?"

  "No, but I've heard about it."

  "One more, Maggie?"

  "Okay. Then we call it a day."

  Chapter Six

  He probably should have agreed to go home, Cole thought, as Maggie got on the bike behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Having her so close was a sweet torment. There was nothing worse than wanting something he couldn't have and while there was a part of him that liked the idea of trying to change Maggie's mind, there was another part of him that was very cognizant of the fact that he could not only hurt Maggie, he could hurt himself.

  Like Maggie, he had his own plans, and she didn't fit into any one of them. Plus, she worked for his aunt, which put her behind another line he shouldn't cross. It was just too damn bad that she was so sweet and sexy. He liked talking to her more than he'd liked talking to anyone in recent years. Which was probably why he'd told her about Carole and his divorce and quitting his job, three subjects that rarely came up when he was out with a woman. But Maggie was different.

  He drew in a breath as her hands tightened around him. He increased his speed, needing the wind in his face to distract him from the woman holding him so close. He'd thought there was nothing sexier than riding a motorcycle. Now he knew that there was nothing hotter than riding a motorcycle with Maggie. Feeling a little reckless, he drove even faster, and soon they were arriving at the next winery.

  When he got off the bike and put their helmets away, Maggie gave him a happy smile so inviting he wanted to kiss it right off her lips.

  "That was a lot faster than you drove before," she said.

  "We had an open road. I thought I'd show you a little more fun." Judging by the light in her eyes, she'd liked it.

  "It was fun. I was a little terrified, but I guess that was part of the fun."

  "I wouldn't let anything happen to you."

  She met his gaze and her smile faded. "It's not always easy to keep that promise. Sometimes life happens."

  He had a
feeling she was talking about her mom. He flung an arm around her shoulders. "Sometimes," he agreed. "But today it's just about the fun."

  She looked up at him. "I have a feeling for you every day is about the fun."

  "It is now," he agreed with a laugh. "But shouldn't that be true for everyone?"

  She shrugged. "I suppose. But I bet if you worked for Mr. Stone for an hour, you would find fun running in the other direction."

  "Don't think about him; it's your day off."

  "True. Let's go ride the gondola."

  They only had to wait a few moments before boarding the large glass-enclosed gondola. While the gondola was meant to seat four people with two bench seats facing each other, once they got up in the air, he decided to switch sides and sit next to Maggie.

  His move made the gondola swing, and she grabbed the railing. "What are you doing?"

  "Sitting next to you. This is a much better view."

  "Aren't we supposed to balance each other out?"

  He liked her mix of caution and carefree, but if he had his way, he'd see her throwing caution to the wind more often. "We're fine. Look at the valley." He waved his hand toward the amazing scenery.

  "It is beautiful up here," she agreed. "It's like a patchwork quilt of vineyards and grapes. I can't imagine how many dreams have started in this valley."

  "And how many ended with a bad frost or a poor crop."

  She made a face at him. "Okay, Mr. Fun, that was not an optimistic statement."

  He laughed. "Sorry. I can be realistic on occasion."

  As the gondola climbed the hillside, what he appreciated even more than the view was Maggie. With every breath he took, he could smell the sweetness that was her, the faint scent of citrus and flowers. He also enjoyed the shape of her bare legs, the pink nail polish on her toes, the brush of her hair against his cheek when he leaned in close. He hadn't felt so interested and connected to a woman in a very long time.

  "You're crowding me, Cole," she said a little breathlessly, trying to slide away, but there was simply nowhere for her to go.

  "I know. I like it."

  "I don't like it." She got up and moved to the other side, giving him a pointed look.

  "Why fight it, babe?"

  "Fight what?"

  "Me, you, us…"

  "There is no us in any other way than friendship," she said firmly. "We're not even friends really. We barely know each other."

  "I feel like I know quite a bit about you."

  "Well, what I know about you is enough to make me sit over here."

  He laughed. "What do you think is going to happen if we sit next to each other?"

  "I think we're going to complicate our lives in ways neither of us want. So you stay on your side, I'll stay on mine."

  "Have you always played it safe when it comes to men?"

  "Now I do. I told you before that I picked every wrong guy I could find in college. I learned from my mistakes."

  "Was there one wrong guy in particular?" he asked, curious to know more about her past.

  She hesitated, a little pain in her blue eyes. "Yes, but I didn't think Brad was wrong at the time. In fact, I was awed by his passion for justice and civil rights. He loved to protest. I found myself walking in picket lines and chaining myself to a fence for whatever cause he was fighting. I ended up getting arrested during one of those protests. I don’t think I've ever heard more disappointment in my father's voice when he found out I'd been protesting the deployment of troops into Afghanistan."

  He raised an eyebrow. "You were protesting the war?"

  She nodded, guilt in her expression. "So wrong, right? But my grief over my mother made me hate the Army even more. I had it in my head that if my father had been home, he would have been able to protect my mom, and she wouldn't have died. I know that wasn't a logical thought, but I couldn't shake it for a long time. When I protested the war, I was really protesting against my father and his job, his long absences, his neglect of the family—of me. It was childish and selfish, and that night in jail was a wake-up call."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I realized that I was letting Brad decide what I cared about, and that I was letting my anger with my dad drive me to do things I didn't really want to do. Brad didn't care for my epiphany. We split up, and that was that. Since then, I've steered away from lawbreakers and rebels with a cause."

  He nodded. "I get it. You seem to me like you're often caught between two worlds, Maggie."

  She raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

  "What you think you should want and what you really want. Who you think you should be and who you really are."

  "I know who I am and what I want. Just because you don't like it—"

  "I don't dislike it," he interrupted. "I just see hints of another Maggie every now and then, and I wonder if she's as eager to bury herself away in the country and always do the right thing as you are."

  She stared back at him. "You've known me for two days."

  "Three—if you count Friday."

  "Still, you don't know me at all."

  "And you haven't said I'm wrong. I'm good at reading people, Maggie. It was a skill I had to develop as a venture capitalist. I wasn't just investing in companies but in the people who ran them. I had to be able to see their true character, assess their talent, and I was great at it."

  "You're modest, too. If you're so eager to analyze people, maybe you should go back to your job."

  He grinned. "No need. I just analyze the people I meet on the road now. And you are one of the most interesting people I've met in a long time."

  "I can't imagine what about me is so interesting," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not exciting at all. You should meet some of my friends. They put me to shame."

  "I doubt that. Interesting doesn't always mean bigger than life—sometimes it just means genuine, beautiful, smart and one-of-a-kind."

  She flushed a little at his words, and he suspected she didn't see herself the way he saw her.

  But there was no more time for conversation. As the gondola reached the turnabout at the top of the hill, they got off and walked toward the winery.

  * * *

  Maggie was relieved to be off the gondola and away from Cole. His analysis of her had actually shaken her a little, because he had been more right than wrong. There were moments when she wondered if she were being true to herself or just trying to create the home life she'd never had. She didn't like that Cole was making her question her decisions, because she had a plan and she needed to stick to it. And why should she let him change her mind about anything anyway?

  He didn't even have a job right now. He was basically living a gypsy life, and maybe he had the luxury of savings to finance his wandering travels, but she did not. She had to worry about practical matters like bills and rent and dealing with a boss who was getting more and more ridiculously strict by the minute. Unlike Cole, she couldn't quit and just walk away. She had to make things work. While there were a lot of things she hadn't liked about her father, he had instilled in her the belief that if you started something you finished it, no matter how difficult it was.

  Her dad probably wouldn't like Cole. He'd think Cole was a quitter. But was that really true? Maybe Cole should be admired for realizing his life wasn't going the way he wanted it to and taking steps to change that.

  She shook the complicated thoughts out of her mind as they entered the winery. The building with its cool, red-patterned tiles on the floor, white stucco walls, dark wood ceilings and archways gave off a Spanish flair. In the tasting room, there was a long bar along one side and ceiling-to-floor windows on the other. An open door led out to a patio where circular tables topped with colorful umbrellas were set out for visitors to sit down and enjoy the view.

  While Cole went to the bar to get a tasting tray, Maggie ventured over to the windows and then stepped out onto the adjacent patio to take another look at the valley in the afternoon sunshine. It was a peaceful view and the l
onger she stared out at the horizon, the less turbulent she felt inside. Napa was the right place for her. She could feel it down deep in her bones. No one else had to understand that but her.

  "Here you are," Cole said, as he came up next to her with a tray of four small glasses of wine. "The winemaker says this is the best cabernet sauvignon and merlot they've had in years. Let's sit down."

  They moved across the patio and sat down at a table. She tried the sauvignon first and it was delicious. So was the merlot. "I think these are the best wines we've tasted all day," she said.

  "I agree. I wonder if the restaurant at the Stratton stocks these wines."

  "I'm not sure, but if we don't, we should." She paused as one of the winemakers came out to the patio. He asked everyone to gather around, so they joined the circle of other visitors to learn more about the winery. The talk ended with a tour of the wine cellar.

  "It's fascinating to me," Cole said, as they walked out of the cellar.

  "What is?"

  "How just about anyone in this valley with a nice piece of land can make a good wine."

  "There are some very successful small wineries," she agreed. "But the industry is also big business. Napa Valley wines are sold all over the world. They compete very well with French and Italian wines."

  He smiled. "You do love this valley, don't you?"

  "How could you not?" she asked, sweeping her hand toward the view as they lined up for the gondola.

  "I have to admit, I'm more impressed than I thought I would be. Aunt Ida has always loved Napa, but I thought that the other Stratton hotels were in far more interesting locations. I was wrong."

  "Well, I'm sure Paris and London could probably beat this valley, but it depends what you're in the mood for, right? I liked living in San Francisco. I had a lot of fun with my single girlfriends for a few years, but I find I like the quiet of Napa. When I'm in San Francisco, I appreciate the city but I also feel tense with the traffic, horns honking, brakes squealing, jackhammers working on the roads, and restaurants that are so loud with conversation you can barely hear your friends talk."