A Sure Thing?

'That's right.'

She leaned forward, and the smoky look in her eyes tightened his groin. 'In that case, I'll have the facial. Especially since I probably do look a bit haggard-which, I must point out, is entirely your fault. I didn't get much sleep last night.'

'Sweetheart, there is nothing the least bit haggard about you, and you're not going to get much sleep tonight, either.'

Their gazes locked, and Matt swore that something passed between them. A warmth, an intimate understanding, that went far beyond the reaches of a casual-sex relationship.

He brought her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss against her soft palm. 'Would you get all mad at me if I offered to pay for lunch?'

'Mad? No. Would I let you? No.'

'I like to pay for my dates.'

'I'm not your date. I'm your… co-worker. Besides, we're here this weekend on business. This lunch should be charged to our Maxximum corporate account.'

I'm not your date. I'm your… co-worker. She was right, of course. Still, an unpleasant sensation hit him at those words. Because, just like dinner last night, this felt very much like a date. And she was more than just his co-worker-she was, for the remainder of the weekend, his lover. His inner voice tried to chime in with a reminder that taking Jilly as his lover had been a baaaaaaad idea, but as it was too late now, he shoved the irritating voice aside.

'Okay, we'll charge lunch to Maxximum,' he agreed. 'Ready to do our shopping?'

'Lead on, Marshmallow-condom boy.'

'Hey, that's Marshmallow-condom man to you.'

'You sure you want to argue with a black belt?'

His gaze drifted down to her luscious lips. 'Yup. Among other things.'

* * *

Jilly sat in the soft, leather passenger seat of Matt's Lexus, and flipped through the guide to Long Island's wine country. She'd picked up the pamphlet on the way out of the candy shop where she and Matt had each purchased huge boxes of chocolate-covered marshmallows.

'Can't wait to play connect-the-dots with mine,' he'd said with a grin that whooshed heat through her.

While Matt drove along Route 25-slowly, due to a heavy volume of cars along the one lane road-Jilly said, 'According to this brochure, there are nearly thirty wineries out here.' She looked up at him, noting his handsome profile as he watched the road. 'That's just amazing. How is it possible that I've lived in New York my entire life and never visited the North Fork?'

'Same for me. The only time I've ever been to this part of Long Island was one summer when my family drove out to Mattituck-I think I was about ten or eleven. One of my dad's bosses had a summer cottage near the beach. I remember we caught clams and steamed them for dinner.'

'So I guess you're better at catching clams than you are at catching fish,' she teased.

He laughed. 'Yeah. Clams don't swim as fast-and you don't need a slippery pole to catch them.' He braked for a red light, then looked over at her and smiled. 'Would you like to stop at one of the wineries on our way back?'

A perfectly normal smile, and a perfectly simple question. So why did they set her heart to racing? Because it's Matt's smile. And it's Matt asking the question, her inner voice sneered.

She ruthlessly pushed the voice aside. Fine. So Matt made her heart go pitty-pat. Next week, she and Kate would find another handsome, intelligent, amusing, sexy man who would affect her in the same way. No problem.

Smiling back, she said, 'I'd love to stop at one of the wineries.' She forced her gaze back to her brochure. After quickly scanning their choices, she suggested, 'How about Galini Vineyards? According to the guide, it's only about a mile up the road. They offer a good selection of wines, and they bottle two different sparkling wines as well. I wouldn't mind picking up a few bottles for myself, and maybe some as Christmas gifts.'

'Sounds like a good idea.'

They continued the short distance along Route 25. Older houses, set close to the road, their lawns covered with pristine snow, bespoke of Victorian charm with their turrets, porches, and twinkling holiday decorations. A few minutes later, Matt pulled into the gravel driveway marked by a rustic wooden sign entwined with grape leaves proclaiming Galini Vineyards.

'Quaint-looking place,' Jilly remarked, peering out the windshield. 'It looks more like a farmhouse than a winery.'

'You know what they say about looks being deceiving,' Matt murmured. 'C'mon. Let's check it out.'

Hand in hand, they crossed the parking lot, then stomped the snow from their boots, laughing as they tried to see who could stomp the loudest. When they opened the door, bells tingled overhead, and they looked up.

'Hey,' Matt said, pointing above the door as he closed it. 'That's mistletoe.' He waggled his brows. 'You know what that means.'

Jilly heaved out a put-upon sigh. 'I suppose it means I have to kiss you.'

'It certainly does.'

'Has anyone ever told you that you're a very high-maintenance guy?'

'No one who lived to tell the tale.'

Wrapping an arm around her waist, he drew her close, and covered her lips in a warm, friendly, delicious, teasing kiss that kindled a desire for more.

'Ah! I see my mistletoe is working,' came a cheerful, Italian-accented voice from behind them.

Arms still around each other, they turned in unison. A robust man whom Jilly judged to be in his mid-fifties smiled at them from an archway leading into another room. He wore faded denim overalls over a cambric shirt, and tan work boots. Gray marked his thick, ebony hair, and his amusement-filled dark eyes regarded them over the rim of a pair of wire-framed reading glasses, which rode the end of his nose.

'Working very well,' Matt said with a grin, dropping a quick kiss onto her forehead.

'Every Christmas I hang mistletoe above the door chimes,' the man said, walking toward them, wiping his hands on a rag, 'and every year I catch dozens of couples kissing. It does my heart good.'

Tucking the rag into his pocket, he extended his hand. 'Welcome to Galini Vineyards. My name's Joe.'

Matt shook the man's hand, then Jilly did the same, noting Joe's firm handshake and work-roughened, callused hands.

'Are you looking for anything in particular?'

'We understand you have several varieties of sparkling wine?' Jilly said.

'Some very fine varieties,' Joe said. He indicated a long, highly polished bar along the left wall. 'Would you care for a tasting?'

Jilly smiled. 'That would be great.'

Joe crossed the room, and Matt and Jilly followed. While Joe readied tulip-shaped glasses and removed bottles from the refrigerator, Jilly looked around the large room.

The rustic theme carried through to the inside of the building. Wood plank floors, paneled walls, and a high, beamed ceiling were made to feel warm and cozy by the stone fireplace nestled in the corner where a fire cheerfully crackled. Attractively framed photographs of the vineyard during various seasons and stages of harvesting lined the walls.

An eye-catching display of wines and handmade ceramic pieces decorated a long table beyond the bar where they now stood. Looking out the huge picture window that took up the entire back wall, Jilly noted that the scenery was identical to that at Chateau Fontaine-row upon row of bare, snow-covered vines, held in place by thick wooden stakes and horizontal cables.

'Incredible to believe that so much of this land where the wineries now are, used to be potato farms,' Jilly remarked.

Matt's brows raised. 'Potato farms? I didn't know that.'