A Lot Like Love

Twenty-six

“MAYBE I SHOULD drive the rest of the way. So you can take a break.”

Jordan took her eyes off the road to look over at Nick. “We’re five miles from the resort. I’m pretty sure I can make it.”

“But these roads are very hilly. Winding. Wouldn’t you feel more comfortable with me driving?”

“I’ve been doing just fine for the last three and a half hours.”

Actually, Nick had been doing just fine, too. He’d rather enjoyed being chauffeured by Jordan during their drive from the airport. It had given him plenty of time to enjoy the gorgeous view: the long, blond hair pulled back in a sophisticated knot, the crisp white summer dress, the silk scarf wrapped elegantly around her neck, and the many inches of sleek, slender legs.

And the picturesque rolling hills dotted with white and pink blossoming flowers weren’t half bad, either.

“But perhaps I would be more comfortable if I drove the rest of the way,” he said. Clearly, she wasn’t picking up on his subtle message.

Jordan pulled the car to a stop in the left turn lane of the divided highway, about to take them onto a side street that led into a canyon. She turned to face him. “Okay. What’s going on? Why would you suddenly be more comfortable driving?”

“We’re not supposed to stand out, remember? We’re still undercover. And I suspect that ritzy places like this are accustomed to seeing the man driving the car. People are going to think I’m your assistant or something.”

She pointed. “Now that would be a fun cover – let’s do that one for a change. I get to be in charge, and you have to call me Ms. Rhodes all weekend.”

“No.”

“I’ll even get you a little notepad, and you can follow me around taking dictation. And I’ll make you drive ten miles to the nearest Starbucks to get me a latte, which I’ll send back three times until you get it just right. Because that’s what all the rich women do.”

“You’re joking about this.”

“Of course I’m joking,” Jordan said. “Otherwise, I’d have to take your comment seriously about the man needing to drive the car, and I’m in far too good of a mood to lecture you on the fact that sexual politics have changed somewhat since the 1950s.”

“Speaking of the 1950s, has anyone ever told you that you look like Grace Kelly?”

Jordan relaxed, smoothing back her hair. “Actually, my grandfather used to say that. You’re trying to change the subject, aren’t you?”

“Definitely. In hindsight, that assistant comment probably wasn’t so slick. I should warn you – I may have these momentary Cro-Magnon lapses from time to time. Bygones.”

Jordan opened her mouth to say something, then shut it. She threw her hands into the air. “How do you always do that? You tiptoe right to the edge of thoroughly pissing me off, then somehow you sweet-talk your way out of it.”

Nick grinned. “Aha. I told you when we met that you’d know if I was sweet-talking you.”

Jordan stared out the front windshield, shaking her head. “Seriously, I must’ve killed somebody’s prized goat or something in a former life. And this is my penance.”

He laughed. “Oh, admit it. You love it.”

“That’s the penance part. My slow descent into madness.”

Seeing the grin curling at the edges of her lips, Nick leaned forward in his seat to kiss her. “Aw, you say the sweetest things.” And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

They continued their drive, and as the trees grew even thicker, he began to wonder about this resort she was taking him to. They turned a corner, and she veered the car onto a one-lane street that took them over a narrow bridge.

“What’s the name of this place we’re staying at?” He realized how odd it was that he needed to ask. Since they’d landed in San Francisco, Jordan had been calling the shots. Both the FBI agent and Cro-Magnon in him felt somewhat unsettled by this. He was used to taking charge of a situation – any situation.

With another glance at Jordan, he decided to go with the flow. For now. At the very least, it gave him a few more minutes to enjoy the view.

“Calistoga Ranch,” she answered him.

“It seems off the beaten path,” he said.

“It’s meant to have a rustic, one-with-nature kind of feel,” Jordan said. They drove around another bend, and then pulled into a clearing at what appeared to be the main lodge. Several cars lined the driveway ahead of them, and Nick did a quick tally: two Mercedes, one Porsche 911, a BMW 6 Series, and an Aston Martin.

Nick raised an eyebrow as Jordan parked their rental car behind the Aston Martin. “Rustic?”

“Well … call it ‘rich-person rustic,’ ” she conceded. She opened her door and slid out of the car, all long, slim legs and heels and her golden blond hair shining in the warm California sun. In an instant, she looked like she belonged.

“Welcome back, Ms. Rhodes,” said the valet as he took the keys from her. “Did you have a pleasant flight?”

“Very pleasant. Thank you.”

“I’ll load the bags into the cart while you check in.” With an efficient nod, the valet took off.

Nick came around the car and took Jordan’s hand. “The cart?”

“Cars aren’t allowed on the resort grounds, so they shuttle us to and from our room in a golf cart.”

“Rich-person rustic doesn’t include walking?”

“Our room is a mile away. Uphill.” She pulled him closer. “I know it’s asking a lot, sweetie, but try to enjoy yourself. You might be surprised and actually like it here.”

Nick took a look around. His first thought was that it was a good thing he hadn’t taken a vacation in a while, because he definitely was going to need the extra cash to pay for his half of the trip. If Jordan thought he was letting her foot the bill, she could think again. Where he came from, men did not mooch off their girlfriends. Even their obscenely wealthy heiress girlfriends.

Girlfriend.

His left eye began to twitch.

Jordan looked over. “You okay?”

“Just a little pollen or something.” He rubbed his eye for emphasis.

They entered a large, Western-style main lodge, where a front desk clerk greeted them. She seemed to recognize Jordan immediately, confirmed her reservation for a one-bedroom hillside lodge, and produced an actual set of keys. Apparently, rich-person rustic didn’t include key cards, either.

Within minutes, they were in a golf cart, cruising along a small paved road with a thickly forested cliff on one side of them and a lake on the other. Along the way, they passed by several bungalow-style guest lodges set a good distance apart for privacy.

From behind his sunglasses, Nick studied the valet in the front seat of the golf cart. No more than twenty-three years old, the blond, tanned guy looked like he should be sitting on the beach in a lifeguard chair. Instead, he chatted animatedly with Jordan about a winery he’d recently discovered.

After a several-minute drive, the valet parked the cart at the edge of a walkway that led up a hill. “You know the drill, Jordan. Gotta hoof it from here. I’ll grab the bags.”

“I’ll grab the bags.” Nick gave the valet a tip and a look that said that no further assistance, questions, comments, or wine chitchat was necessary. Jordan looked on with amusement, but said nothing as she led him up a path with stairs that led to a bungalow on a hill. She unlocked a gate, and they stepped onto a large covered patio complete with a fireplace, an outdoor living area, and an incredible view of the canyon below them.

She used a second key to unlock a glass door that took them inside the lodge and into a living room with a marble-surround fireplace and state-of-the-art entertainment center.

“So this is rich-person rustic.” Nick set the bags down and looked around. Through the windows, he could see that the master suite was an entirely separate space on the opposite end of the patio. He walked back outside, cut across the deck, and opened the door to the bedroom. He took in the king bed covered with plush pillows and the dark cherry dressers and nightstands. Adjacent to the bedroom was a large stone and granite bathroom complete with two vanities, an oversized tub, and a combination steam/rain shower. French doors along one wall of the bathroom led to a private outdoor shower.

“Think it’ll do?” Jordan asked from behind him.

Nick turned around, slightly embarrassed to have been caught gawking at their surroundings. He shrugged, taking on a nonchalant tone. “Sure. I’ve just never known anyone who could afford all this.” He reached down and unstrapped the gun harness from his calf. He set it on the nightstand next to the bed, along with his wallet.

Jordan gestured to the gun. “Well, I’ve never known anyone who walked around with one of those strapped to his leg. So I guess this is something new for both of us.”

Nick straightened up, the reality of the situation hitting him. Here he was: an FBI agent from Brooklyn, spending the weekend in wine country with a woman who would one day inherit a half-billion dollars.

He walked over to her. “What are we doing?”

She smiled slightly, as if she’d been wondering this herself. “I have no clue.”

Nick peered down at her, standing close to, but not yet past, the point of no return. Jordan didn’t move, just looked at him through half-lowered eyes. Waiting.

Without a word, he reached up and tugged her hair out of its knot. He watched as it spilled over her shoulders in blond waves, a wild contrast to the sophisticated dress, scarf, and designer high-heeled shoes she wore.

He stepped across the remaining space that divided them. “So what do billionaire heiresses like to do in the Napa Valley?”

She held his gaze. “Right now, probably the same thing as FBI agents from Brooklyn.”

Enough said.

JORDAN KNEW, FROM the look in Nick’s eyes when he scooped her up in his arms and plunked her down on top of the covers, that the time for jokes was over.

He pinned her hands in one of his against the comforter, then leaned down and kissed her, hot and demanding. She swirled her tongue around his, no playing around this time, and no teasing. When she arched against him, he released his grip and slid his hands down her arms. Then he continued over the swell of her breasts.

He grabbed hold of the V-neck collar and ripped her dress open.

She gasped against his mouth. “My, somebody is impatient.”

His voice had a rough edge. “It’s your fault. I’ve been thinking about getting you naked since the first time I saw you drink wine.” He ran his thumb along her lower lip. “I’ve thought about a lot of things.”

While holding his gaze, Jordan licked the tip of his thumb and watched as his eyes turned dark and smoldering. He pushed the dress down her arms and tossed it onto the floor, and the scarf around her neck quickly followed. Then he pulled back and looked at her.

Normally, she would’ve felt self-conscious, lying in her bra and panties with the bright light of the afternoon sun streaming into the bedroom. But then Nick ran one of his hands along her body, from her throat to her hip, and the undisguised wanting she saw on his face made her feel quite bold instead.

She kicked off her shoes and reached for his shirt. “Your turn.”

He watched as she undid the buttons of his shirt. After she pushed it off him, he grabbed the bottom edge of his white T-shirt and pulled it over his head. He knelt above her, shirtless and stunning, his chest, arms, and stomach as toned and chiseled as a Roman god’s.

He was gorgeous. Perfect. Jordan had known Nick had been hiding the goods underneath his clothes, but this went even beyond what she’d imagined.

Her voice came out in a near whisper. “And the rest?”

“If you insist.”

With a devilish smile, he rose and stood at the foot of the bed. He kicked off his shoes, and then undid the button and zipper of his jeans. Without any hesitation, he shed his jeans, boxer briefs, and socks. He stood before her, unabashedly naked in the sunlight.

Propped up on her elbows, Jordan took in every inch of bronzed skin and sleek muscle, her eyes widening at the sight of his thick, hard erection.

“Think it’ll do?” he teased, repeating her earlier question.

She crooked her finger and beckoned him back to the bed.

Nick lowered himself over her, his eyes lit with an emerald fire that made her heart pound. He skillfully snapped open the front closure of her bra with one hand and watched as her breasts tumbled free. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

He eased her back onto the comforter and slid the straps of her bra over her shoulders. Jordan shivered with anticipation. “Nick,” she whispered, needing him to kiss her. Their mouths came together, and she sighed when his fingers brushed across the tips of her breasts. He lowered his head, plumped up her breast, and pulled the nipple into his mouth. With his other hand, he spread her legs and sank his hips between them.

She moaned and pressed instinctively against him as he worked his tongue across each of her breasts. She curled her fingers through his dark hair as hot flames licked at her stomach, and lifted her hips eagerly when he moved his hands to her hips and slid her panties off.

“I should slow down,” he said huskily as he pulled one of her nipples into his mouth and sucked gently.

Slow down? “Not a chance, Brooklyn.”

He smiled, and the stubble along his jaw scraped against her breast. “Now I’m definitely going to slow down.”

He used his fingers to part the soft, wet folds between her legs, spreading her open, then he teased her with his forefinger for what felt like eternity. As her tongue tangled with his, she gasped when he slid a finger into her and began to move it in and out in a slow, smooth rhythm.

He whispered wickedly in her ear. “I love seeing the look on your face when I touch you. Maybe I should watch you come just like this.”

Dirty words. Oh, he so did not play fair. But the Nick and Jordan show was a two-person show. She slid her hands over his well-muscled chest, her fingers brushing against the sprinkling of dark hair. She had two words for him. “Flip over.”

His eyes flashed; apparently he liked that idea.

He grabbed her hips and rolled them over in one smooth move. She straddled him, settling his rock-hard erection between her legs, skin against skin. She heard the low rumble in his chest.

He definitely liked this idea.

Nick closed his eyes when Jordan bent down to kiss him. First his neck and throat, then she traced a path along his chest. Letting her take control had seemed like a fine idea thirty seconds ago, but now he wasn’t so sure he could take too much more of her mouth on his –

Christ, she was going lower. She shifted her position, and she burned her way along his stomach with her tauntingly soft lips. He exhaled unsteadily when her tongue licked the trail of hair that started below his navel, and his cock throbbed in anticipation.

Go lower.

She wrapped her fingers around his engorged shaft and began to stroke. As she worked him with her hand, she kissed his hip, his inner thigh … and he opened his eyes to watch.

Go lower.

She gently licked the head of his erection.

She slid her tongue around the ridge, taking her time. She was tasting him, he realized, just like a wine. He groaned and tangled his fingers in her hair. “Jordan … put me in your mouth.”

With a coy smile, she did just that.

He growled deep in his chest as she wrapped her lips around his cock. When she brought her tongue into the mix as well, his eyes nearly rolled back in his head. He gently palmed her head, to steady himself more than anything, and watched as she slid him deeper into her mouth. She wrapped her hand around the base, stroking him in a silky, fluid motion until he was pulsing with need.

He stopped her with his hand and pinned her with his eyes when she looked up. “Come here.”

He saw the answer in the devious sparkle of her blue eyes.

No.

While holding his gaze, she teased the head of his cock with her tongue, then slid him all the way back into her warm, wet mouth.

He nearly came right there.

Unable to resist, he watched as she continued with the delicious torture for several moments, and something about their eye-to-eye connection – and the fact that it was her – made it absolutely the hottest moment of his life. His tone was low and guttural. “Jordan.”

Hearing the edge to his voice, she released him from her mouth and sat up, straddling him with his cock settled right between her legs. He slid his hands up and cupped her breasts, gliding his thumbs over her nipples. “Are you ready?” he asked, thinking he might spontaneously combust if he didn’t get inside her right then.

“So ready,” she said in a throaty voice.

Nick grabbed his wallet off the nightstand and pulled out a condom. He unwrapped it, placed it at the head of his cock, and took her hand, wanting her to do it. He cupped her ass as she rolled it over him. Then she leaned forward and rested her hands on his chest as he moved himself into position.

He kissed her as she lowered herself onto him, capturing her moan with his mouth as she stretched to accommodate him. When he was fully inside her, he clenched his jaw, straining against the overload of sensation. She felt so warm, so wet, and so fucking good, that his mouth just started talking. “Ride me, Jordan,” he groaned. “Oh God, baby … love me.”

She sat back and began sliding up and down on him. He held her hips, guiding her, moving her in a smooth, sensual rhythm, fighting the urge to go off at the sight of her naked above him in the bright light of day.

“Lean forward,” he rasped. “I want one of those beautiful breasts in my mouth.”

With a sharp inhale, she did as he asked. He took one of her rosy nipples into his mouth and flicked his tongue over it. Still riding him slowly, she let out a stifled cry, and he knew she was getting close. “Spread your legs wider,” he whispered. When she shifted, he grabbed hold of her hips and held her steady. He took charge of their rhythm, thrusting up into her with smooth, deep strokes. She said his name again, urgently, and he knew she was at the edge. And he was right there with her.

She whimpered and closed her eyes, and that sound, plus the exquisite expression on her face, drove him right over. “Let me feel it, baby,” he groaned. He kissed her as they both exploded, first her as she cried out, then he followed when he felt her tighten around him, pulling him deeper inside. They moved together, gasping and riding through the aftershocks, until she finally slowed to a stop and collapsed on his chest.

They lay there for a long time, skin to skin, hearts pounding.

After several minutes, she broke the silence. “That’s the longest we’ve ever gone without talking.” She perked her head up. “I didn’t break anything, did I?”

With his finger, Nick brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. “No.”

She looked concerned when he fell quiet again. “Are you okay?”

“Definitely. Just thinking that it’s never been …” He stopped awkwardly. Man, he sucked at this.

Her expression turned tender, a look that said she got it, as she leaned forward to cover his lips with her own.

“For me, either,” she whispered softly.