So Far Into You (6 page)

‘If you're going to get me fired, you might as well make it worth my while,' she said.

Then she kissed him again.

Chapter 4

Seth rang Rina on Monday morning. It was a long weekend and she didn't need to be at the winery, but that's where she said she was when she answered her phone.

‘I'll come in,' he said. ‘I'm at the cabin. Five minutes.'

She had coffee ready when he got there. He drank it with her in the lab.

‘You don't have to impress me anymore, Rina. This working on a long weekend …' he smiled as he said it, thinking of Remy's comment about him not smiling enough.

It was wasted because Rina had her eyes on the lab charts, not on him. ‘These tests weren't going to run themselves. I know they're right if I do it.'

His smile vanished. ‘Why? Isn't Stuart measuring up?' Stuart was the lab technician. If he'd been getting things wrong, Seth wanted to know.

‘He misses a few things here and there. Don't worry. I've spoken with him about it. He says he'll take more care. I had some free time this morning. I'm going out for lunch later.'

Seth got straight to the point. ‘I'm supposed to fly to Bordeaux tomorrow tonight for the Vinitech exhibition. I don't suppose your passport is up to date?'

Rina put the charts down hard enough to swirl dust motes from the lab bench. ‘Sure, my passport is up to date. Why? Have you got space in your suitcase?'

Seth moved closer, sneaking a glance at the pH results from old habit. Nothing out of the ordinary there. ‘I only got back from China on Friday night. Be nice to stay home for a while. Bordeaux would be new for you. It's an interesting place … the old part.'

‘You're asking if I want to go
instead
of you, not with you.' She turned her back to him, fiddling with her papers, making neat edges as she formed the pile. ‘For a moment there I thought you were asking me to go
with
you.'

‘We can't both be out of the country at the same time, Rina. Who'd run the place? Blake?' He laughed, but he couldn't help thinking about what Blake had said: that Rina liked him in more than a professional way. Could his brother be right? Was she seriously thinking an invitation to visit Bordeaux meant anything other than business? If that was the case, he'd have to say something about it. Nip it in the bud.

Rina turned, and the moment Seth saw her face he relaxed. There was no sign Rina felt anything for him at all. Not disappointment. Not hurt. Her expression was smooth.

‘Blake wouldn't be the best choice you ever made, Seth. He'd give the cellar boys the afternoons off if the surf was up.' She shrugged an apology. ‘Now I think about it, I'm not even sure where my passport is. It's probably buried in a box at the back of my shed. It could even still be in the cupboards at Mum's place in the Hunter Valley. Maybe next time, hey?'

‘Yeah. I knew it was short notice. Dig your passport out or get a new one, Rina. The company will pay. It'd be good if you did a few of the international trips next year. You'd get a lot out of it, and retailers like to see the winemaker's face. They must be sick to death of seeing my ugly mug.'

‘I'll look into it.'

Rina picked up Seth's coffee mug and her own, turned her back to him again and washed them in the laboratory sink. She took her time about it, rinsing, drying the mugs, hanging them on the branches of the lab's coffee-mug tree. A couple of times the mugs clanked, hard enough Seth thought they might chip.

‘Everything else okay with you, Rina?'

‘I'm fine. I always reckoned the dishwashing liquid they buy here makes everything slippery. Late night last night, that's all.' She steadied the last swinging mug and turned around with a bright smile. ‘So where were we? We better catch up on the oak program if you're going to Bordeaux.'

***

For the first time since she'd met Seth Lasrey at her job interview, Rina couldn't wait for Seth to leave her alone. It was too hard trying to feign indifference while he dominated the small laboratory space, all smouldering eyes, broad shoulders and that Mediterranean combo of olive skin and black hair she found sexy as hell.

It had been so near impossible to control her reaction when she thought he'd invited her to Bordeaux, and she was mortified she'd almost let it slip, shown him how much she cared.

Somehow she masked the disappointment that burned like acid at the base of her throat. Somehow she answered his questions about toast levels and flavours and discussed how much new oak she'd need for the upcoming vintage. Whatever she said must have made sense because Seth didn't look at her like she'd grown an extra head.

That was the problem. Seth didn't really look at her at all.

She shivered, clutching the two flaps of her lab coat together at her stomach.

Seth wasn't paying attention, and he missed it. She could probably have opened the lab coat, like a flasher, and he wouldn't have raised an eyebrow.

‘So I think that's about it then, Rina, thanks. If you think of anything else, put it in an email to me. I fly out Tuesday night. Hey, have a nice lunch.'

Lunch?
She blinked at him blankly. ‘Oh, yes, lunch today with the girls. Thank you, I will. You too. Have a good afternoon.'

When the lab door shut, Rina sat back on the counter, gripping the edge so hard her hands hurt. She sat like that for a long time, but she didn't cry.

Like everyone else on the Lasrey staff, she'd heard the stories about Seth's relationship with the French wine heiress Helene Bouchard. Ailsa made no secret of how much she'd like to see Seth marry Helene, merging the two wine companies. The French woman with the posh-sounding name didn't worry Rina. Perhaps because Seth never talked about her, and if she'd ever overheard him mention Helene's name in response to a media or business question, it was to say he and Helene were just old family friends. She'd even dared consider at night, in her dreams, that Seth was coy about Helene because really, it was Rina he loved …

Helene was far away. She wasn't in Rina's face, not like Remy.

Remy.

What wouldn't Rina give for Seth to look at her just once, with half the emotion she'd seen in his eyes when he held Remy in that rainstorm on Saturday?

Who did Seth think he was kidding?
Now
he wants to stay home for a while? He never wanted to stay home before. Usually his feet barely touched Australian soil before he was off on another trip, rustling up new business opportunities around the globe.

This wasn't about Seth spending time at home. It was about being near
her.

It wasn't fair.

Remy Hanley had been on the scene six months … first cuddling up to Blake and then, seeing all Blake was interested in was surfing, she'd turned her attention to Seth. Ailsa had said as much in the festival marquee: Remy didn't care which of the Lasrey boys she caught, as long as she hooked one of them.

Seth was only human, and male to boot. Rina had to save him from making any dumb decisions. It was her job to watch Seth's back at Lasrey. If she had to extend her help into Seth's personal life, so be it.

Ailsa would thank her for it, and the day would come when Seth would thank her too. Hopefully as he gazed into her eyes and told her she was the only woman he'd ever want, and the one woman in the world who made his life make sense.

She had to find a way to get rid of Remy.

With that decision reached, Rina felt better. She tidied her papers, cleaned up the lab and when she locked the door, a smile touched her face.

***

Seth hadn't intended visiting Remy again Monday—he didn't want to crowd her—but after his meeting with Rina at the winery, his thoughts drifted to Remy time and again.

In the park on Saturday it had been the physical things that fascinated him. Her legs, her walk, her laugh and, when he'd gotten close enough to look into them, her eyes.

Yesterday afternoon had shown him another side. Remy's joy in something as simple as a bushwalk and a picnic. He couldn't remember the last girl he'd spent time with who would have found more wonder in a double-headed yellow lady donkey orchid (or whatever the hell she'd called it), than in a diamond ring, or a new pair of shoes.

And then there was the kiss.

That first kiss told him much, but the second told him so much more. That Remy could be bold when she wanted to be. That she wasn't afraid to break the rules. That her lips were wide and warm and the bottom one was even softer than the top.

There wasn't much he wouldn't give just to kiss her again.

In the end, he put his laptop aside; didn't return the emails that were lining up in his inbox. Instead, he climbed into the GTR and drove south, listening to a Tchaikovsky sonata he'd heard a hundred times and finding new depth to the music. Heart on fire.

The boys and the dog from next door were kicking their soccer ball in the park as he turned into Remy's street.

Her driveway was empty. A tail of smoke wisped from the chimney but her house had the shut up look of a primary school at end of term.

He'd bought two takeaway coffees. They sat in the cup-holders on the dash and looking at them, he felt like a bit of a dick.

Hey. I was in the area, Rem. Thought you might like a coffee.

He'd come this far. He had to see if she was home. He turned in the cul-de-sac and parked on the opposite side of the street. The hedge hid Remy's house.

Skirting a murky brown puddle, Seth started up the driveway. His was so engrossed in watching the house he already wasn't paying attention to where he stepped, but the second he saw movement in the window, he forgot about his feet.

It was Remy. He knew by the way her left hand trapped a flick of blonde ponytail at the nape of her neck. It was how he'd first seen her in the park, standing with her back to him.

His foot crunched gravel. Instinctively, Seth moved to the edge of the driveway where heavy weeds masked his step. Remy's posture
felt
private and he didn't want to scare her.

As he neared the timber steps he slowed again. There were voices. No. He could hear
a
voice—Remy's voice—quite clearly. But it was different: lilting, almost singsong, as if she might be reading poetry, or rehearsing a scene from a play.

He tested his weight on the bottom step. When it didn't creak or groan he gained the next two levels and approached her front door. His knuckles were poised to knock when he heard, clear as day:
‘Spread your legs. I want your tits rubbing that wall.'

Seth's knuckles, his whole arm, might well have turned to stone.

He floundered for some context, but all he could come up with was:
what the fuck?
Who was she talking to? Was there someone else in the room?
A girl?

That thought blew his mind for five incredibly horny seconds. Two girls, one of them Remy: nipple to nipple, skin to skin. Silk tongues. Wet kisses.

Did she like girls best? Is that what she meant yesterday when she said she'd never kissed a man?

Christ on a stick.
What a waste.

He'd never got that vibe from her. She'd kissed him like she liked it and afterwards, walking back, she'd let him hold her hand.

‘Last chance, sweetheart. I won't tell you again. Stand against the wall. Face it.'

Suddenly, Seth wasn't stone anymore. He was all flesh and blood and he had to
know what was going on in there.

Remy's porch was tiny. The only thing between him and the window was a near-empty woodbox, a collection of old teapots in a bucket, and a mess of Blundstones and rubber boots, plus yesterday's joggers. There was a crack at the edge of the curtain. If he leaned far enough …

‘This game is called Sixty Seconds. Here's how we play …'

Seth snuck a quick peek at the street over his shoulder. That god-ugly hedge shielded him. The neighbours—those kids and the dog—weren't home. He put his palm to the rough weatherboard cladding and inched right. The window was open, curtain moving in the breeze. Damn big tear in the flyscreen, like someone shoved a rake handle through it.

‘I stand here behind you, just like this. I can touch you, wherever I like. All over, if I want to. You get to turn that eggtimer over. See it there? Turn it over for me. When it runs out, I get to feel you. If I make you wet, I'll know you want me …'

Seth dug his thumb under the overhanging lip of timber, gripped hard for support, and leaned even further right. Then he saw her. Her face and shoulder were slightly turned away.

‘Turn the eggtimer over.'

It wasn't hair her hand held at her ear, it was a phone.
She's on the fucking phone!
Seth jerked away.

A girlfriend then? A girlfriend who liked to play games.

Had Remy been laughing at him yesterday the entire time she kissed him, comparing his technique? Thinking about how much she preferred smooth feminine skin to his whiskers?

She lied to him.
By omission. And this was a pretty fucking big omission.

He backed away from her door, leapt lightly off the porch. Thinking:
where's your fairy dust now, Tink?

Chapter 5

Ten minutes after five o'clock most workdays, a girl could shoot a gun through the staff car park at Lasrey Estate and not be in danger of the bullet denting a fender. It was different during vintage. In autumn, when the grapes came off the vines, Lasrey was like a beehive on a summer day. Today, the car park was empty, except for Remy's mother's steel-grey Nissan Dual Cab and the rumble of an engine as the last staff car disappeared down the drive.

Remy sneezed. Sneezed again, and tried to ignore the scratch in her throat. She'd been fighting it off all day. Spending most of yesterday afternoon talking on the phone hadn't helped, but she had to catch up on her hours at White Knights after she'd ditched her roster to spend Sunday with Seth. She had five regular clients and they knew her schedule. Monday, Wednesday, and Sundays. Those days coincided with her mother's shifts at the supermarket, when Remy had the house to herself.