Free Tell Me More by Janet Mullany Page A

onto an unpaved track, probably an old logging road. The interior of the car was warm with the bright sunlight that flickered through the trees, and I hated to admit it, but I enjoyed the leather seats and the comfortable ride, the luxury of riding in an expensive car.
    “I hope this wasn’t too early in the day for you,” he said. “I brought brunch.”
    “That’s very thoughtful.”
    He pulled the jeep to a halt in a sunlit meadow. We weren’t far from town but when I opened the door and stepped outside I was struck by the peace, the quiet. “Is this it? The place you’re going to develop?”
    He nodded. “It’s still in the early stages. It may not happen.”
    “And if it doesn’t? Won’t you lose money?”
    “I’ll have the land. It might happen next year or in ten years. You never know.” He reached into the back of the jeep for a picnic basket and cooler and led me over to an outcropping that held the heat of the sun. He was an attentive and solicitous host—he even had a plaid blanket that he spread on the rocks—and the picnic basket turned out to be one of those fancy ones with china plates and cutlery. He’d brought bagels and lox and cream cheese and champagne in the cooler.
    So who was seducing whom?
    “This is nice,” I said, hoping the surprise didn’t show in my voice. “Great bagels.”
    He popped the cork on the champagne, not making a big deal of it but easing it off softly. A little vapor rose from the neck of the bottle before he poured it into two glasses, pale and sparkling. Good signs—I wondered how he’d be as a lover.
    “You’re the first girl—I mean woman—I’ve brought here,” he said.
    “Yeah? You seem to have all the right moves.” I clinked my glass against his.
    He smiled and unscrewed the cap of a bottle of sparkling water. “I have to drive, but you go ahead.”
    I raised my face to the sun. Perhaps it was the champagne, perhaps it was the company of a handsome man who was not full of self-important chatter, as I’d feared, but I felt extraordinarily peaceful and at ease.
    I finished my bagel and wondered if it would be crass to ask if I could have one for later—I decided it would be—but accepted an orange, one of those big, fat expensive ones that I hardly every bought. The rind peeled off with an easy grace and a wonderful whiff of scent.
    “You’re a very sensual woman,” Willis said.
    “Is that a euphemism for greedy?”
    “No. You enjoy things. You show it.” He reached to refill my champagne glass.
    “This is all perfect,” I said, indicating our picnic. “Other than your yearning to cut down trees and build ugly houses.”
    “Heck, they won’t be ugly. I’m working with a green architect.”
    “Green with pointy ears?” I lay back on the blanket, eyes closed, and chortled at my own joke, a little drunk on champagne and sunshine.
    “You’re a funny girl.”
    “Woman.”
    He shifted toward me. Oh, this was so damn easy. Too easy. Without opening my eyes I separated a segment of orange and stuck it in my mouth. His face hovered over mine as I chewed and swallowed—I could feel his breath on my lips—and he moved in and licked juice from my chin. I was impressed. An enthusiastically chomping woman would not be a particular turn-on, or so I’d think, but he managed to take the moment from slightly comic to erotic with one light touch of his tongue.
    His tongue touched my lips and he reached for the orange in my hand, loosening my fingers from the few segments that remained. He fed them to me before taking my hand and licking the juice from my palm.
    “Nice,” he murmured.
    I closed my hand around his chin, smooth from a recent shave. He smelled, very faintly, of lime, something subtle and expensive. I wouldn’t have expected this from the brash Willis I’d first met.
    “More orange? Champagne?”
    I opened my eyes. “You.”
    He looked surprised. Maybe he expected to have to seduce me, or maybe he didn’t expect me to be