Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.

“I don’t understand how I could be, considering I just got here,” I say, panic flaring within me when his eyes darken.

Do I want this? I try so hard to earn his respect and I let myself end up in these dangerous situations. I’m beyond confused. I want my boss to value me as an employee, but I also want him to see me. Really see me. Not just as the dependable, efficiently organized Miss James who makes his life so much easier.

I want Matt to see me as a woman. A woman he wants.

For one shining moment, he did. It ended disastrously, but here I am, alone with him yet again.

Playing with fire.

The thought floating through my brain is apt, considering the potent heat in Matt’s gaze.

“Trust me. You’re a distraction I absolutely do not need,” he says, his voice low. Sexy.

A tremble moves through me, but I stand my ground. “I’ve done nothing but work my tail off for you the entire day, so please don’t tell me you’re suddenly angry with me now,” I retort, wincing the moment the words leave me. I blame my mounting frustration over our ridiculous situation. The push and pull is getting old, and I’m not sure I can take it much longer.

I’m tired, I’ve done nothing but live and breathe this winery reopening for the last few weeks if not months, and I’m ready to go home and crawl into bed when I’ve only just arrived here. Pull the covers over my head and sleep for a month.

But if a certain someone wanted to join me in my bed, there wouldn’t be any sleeping involved—just plenty of nakedness and kissing and hot, delicious sex.

My entire body flushes at the thought.

“And I appreciate you working that pretty tail of yours off for me, Bryn, really I do,” he drawls, his gaze dropping low. Like he’s actually trying to check out my backside. His flirtatious tone shocks me, rendering me still.

Our relationship isn’t like this. Strictly professional is how we’ve kept it, minus the one incident we haven’t really talked about. I can still taste his lips on mine, not that I’d ever bring it up now.

His last remark though was most definitely what I would consider flirting. And the way he’s looking at me . . .

Oh. My.

My cheeks warm when he stops directly in front of me. I can feel his body heat, smell his intoxicating scent, and I press my lips together to keep from saying something really stupid.

God, I want you. So bad my entire body aches for your touch.

Yeah. Again I sound like those romance novels. The ones I used to find on my grandma’s bedside table when I was young. I always thought those emotions were so exaggerated. No way could that actually occur in real life.

But I’m feeling it. Right now. Again. With Matthew DeLuca. And the way he’s looking at me makes me think he’s feeling it too.

“So um, h-how have I been driving you crazy?” I swallow hard. I sound like a stuttering idiot, and I’m trying to calm my racing heart but it’s no use. We’re staring at each other in silence, the only sound is our accelerated breathing, and then he reaches out. Rests his fingers against my cheek. Lets them drift along my face.

Slowly I close my eyes and part my lips, sharp pleasure piercing through me at his intimate touch. I curl my fingers against the wall as if I can grab onto it, afraid I might slide to the ground if I don’t get a grip and soon.

I can smell him. Feel him. We’ve been close to each other before but not like this. Never like this. The first time was an accident and had turned into an opportunity—a rushed opportunity that had ultimately ended in utter disappointment.

I don’t want to risk that again. I don’t know if I could survive it again.

But I want it. I want him.

“You look so damn beautiful tonight,” he whispers, his rough voice sending a scatter of goose bumps across my skin.

“Thank you,” I say because I don’t know what else to do. I crack my eyes open to find he’s moved even closer, one hand braced against the wall, the other still touching my face. Tilting my head back, I meet his gaze, my lids flickering when he strokes his thumb across my lower lip.

“It’s taking everything inside of me not to just give in and kiss you,” he admits gruffly, his hot eyes roaming over my face, then dropping lower, settling on my chest. I can feel my nipples tighten beneath the silk fabric of my dress and I’m suddenly achingly aware of what little clothing I’m wearing. No bra, no panties . . .

My dress is the only barrier between Matt’s hands and my skin.

God, I want that. I do. I want to feel his hands roam all over me. I want his mouth on mine, I want his mouth everywhere. I’m tired of resisting him, especially when he so clearly wants me as much as I want him.

For once, I’m going to be bold. I want to see what he does when I invite him to do exactly what he wants to me.

“What’s stopping you? We’ve already kissed before.” I reach out, slip my fingers down the length of his black tie. I can’t believe I just said that. I can’t believe I’m touching him though really I’m only caressing his tie. Big deal.

But I can feel all that hot, hard strength beneath his shirt, the beat of his heart, the scent of his skin. Relief floods me. We’ve been dancing around this attraction, especially the last few days, and it feels like we’re finally giving in. Again.

Well, I’ve been dancing around it. He always seemed mostly oblivious to me.

Maybe he isn’t. If his current behavior is any indication, he definitely isn’t.

“I’m stopping me. Or at least I should be,” he says, resting both of his hands on my waist as he steps so close, our legs tangle, our chests brush. I hold my breath, waiting for what I know will be a totally disappointing conclusion to our conversation.

He doesn’t say anything at all. Instead, he lowers his head, his mouth settling on mine, softly. Sweetly. His kiss obliterates everything, all of my thoughts and worries and concerns, until I’m consumed by the sound and the feel and the smell of him. He surrounds me, overwhelms me, and when he thrusts his tongue deep inside my mouth, I’m lost.

And only Matt will be able to find me.

When he breaks the kiss to slide his mouth down the length of my neck, his low, sexy growl makes my insides flutter. He sounds like he’s barely keeping himself in control, and I reach out, wrapping my arms around his neck, burying my fingers in his hair like I enjoy doing. His hair is so thick and soft, the strands cling to my fingers, and I feel like I can’t get enough of him.

The way he’s kissing me makes me think he can’t get enough of me either. His mouth returns to mine and devours me. The kiss so hot, wet, and deep, I feel completely and utterly consumed.

I love it. I want more. I cling to him, mold my body to his and wish he would slip his hands beneath my dress. I want to witness his discovery that I’m wearing no bra, no panties, no nothing beneath it.

I have a feeling he’d be rather pleased with that revelation.

“Jesus, Bryn, you feel good,” he says when we come up for air. His hand is roaming, rising from where it rests on my waist to slide up, over my ribcage to rest just beneath my breast. He pulls away slightly, catching sight of my nipples pebbling painfully beneath the silky fabric of my dress, and he lifts his other hand. Traces the deep V neckline of my dress with his fingertip, his touch feather-light as he brushes my skin, causing skitters to rush across it.

Sighing, I close my eyes, savoring his bold, yet delicate touch. He slips his hand beneath the fabric, covering my right breast with just his fingers and makes a rough sound of pleasure at finding me braless.

His calloused fingers play with my nipple, driving me crazy with need, and I drop my arms from around his neck, arching into his touch as I keep my eyes tightly closed. I’m almost afraid to look at him for fear he’ll abandon me once he realizes what we’re doing.