The Villa

to me. But all she'll say is she and David enjoy each other's company."
    "Gee, you think?"
    "Oh, shut up!" She nosed her wine, noted down her opinion, then sipping, letting the wine rest inside her lower gum, touched it with the tip of her tongue to register the sweetness first before moving it to the sides, to the rear of her mouth to judge its acidity and tannic content.
    She swished it around, allowing the various taste elements to blend, then spat it out.
    "It's immature yet."
    Tyler tested it himself and found he agreed with her. "We'll let it age a bit. A lot of things become what they're meant to if you leave them alone awhile."
    "Is that philosophy I hear?"
    "You want an opinion, or just somebody to agree with you?"
    "I guess wanting both was expecting too much."
    "There you go." He picked up the next glass, held it to the light. But he was looking at Sophia. It was hard not to, he admitted. Not to look, not to wonder. Here they were in a cool, damp cave, a fire snapping, the smells of smoke and wood and earth surrounding them, shadows dipping, dancing.
    Some people would have said it was romantic. He was doing his best not to be one of them. Just as he'd been doing his best for some time not to think of her as a person, much less as a woman. She was, he reminded himself, a partner at best. And one he could have done without.
    And right now his partner was worried. Maybe he thought she was borrowing trouble, or sticking her pretty nose where it didn't belong, but if he knew absolutely one thing about Sophia, it was that she loved her mother unreservedly.
    "His ex-wife dumped him and the kids."
    Sophia's gaze lifted from the wine she held, met his. "Dumped?"
    "Yeah, decided there was a big old world out there, and she was entitled to it. Couldn't explore it or herself with a couple of kids and a husband hanging on. So she left."
    "How do you know this?"
    "Maddy talks to me." And he felt guilty for repeating things he'd been told. The kid didn't say much about her home life, but enough to give him a clear view. "She doesn't blab about it or anything, just lets stuff drop now and again. From what I gather, the mother doesn't contact them often, and Cutter's been running the show since she took off. Theo got in a little trouble, and Cutter took the position out here to get him out of the city."
    "So he's a good father." She knew all too well what it was to be dumped by a parent. "That doesn't mean he's good for my mother."
    "That's for her to decide, isn't it? You look for flaws in every man you see and you're going to find them."
    "That's not what I do."
    "It's exactly what you do."
    "I don't have to look very deep with you." She offered in a sugary voice, "They're all so obvious."
    "Lucky for both of us."
    "Which is a step up from your pattern. You barely look at all. Easier to keep yourself wrapped up in the vines than risk getting wrapped up in a human being."
    "Are we talking about my sex life? I must've missed a step."
    "You don't have one."
    "Not compared to yours." He set down the glass to make his notes. "Then again, who does? You go through men like a knife through cheese. A long, slow slice, a nibble, discard. You're making a mistake thinking you can set those standards for Pilar."
    "I see." Hurt rippled through her. He'd made her sound cheap again. Like her father. Needing to punish him for it, she moved closer. "I haven't gone through you yet, have I, Ty? Haven't even managed the first cut. Is it because you're afraid to try on a woman who's able to think about sex the way a man does?"
    "I don't want to try on a woman who thinks about anything the way a man does. I'm narrow-minded that way."
    "Why don't you expand your horizons?" She tipped her face up, invited. "Dare you," she teased.
    "I'm not interested."
    Still testing, she wound her arms around his neck, tightening them when he lifted his arms to pull them away. "Which one of us is bluffing?"
    Her eyes were dark, fiery. The scent of her slid around him, into him. She brushed her lips over his, one seductive stroke.
    "Why don't you sample me?" she asked softly.
    It was a mistake, but it wouldn't be his first. He gripped her hips and ran his hands up her sides.
    The scent of her was both ripe and elusive. A deliberate and effective torment for a man.
    "Look at me," he ordered, and took the mouth she offered.
    Took what and how he wanted. Long, slow, deep. And he let the taste of her slide over his tongue, as he would with a fine wine, then slip