Full Bodied Curves

  Full Bodied Curves

  Richmond Brothers Love Curves Book 6

  Jane Fox

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  Contents

  1. Lincoln

  2. Alexa

  3. Lincoln

  4. Alexa

  Lincoln

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  Also by Jane Fox

  About the Author

  One

  Lincoln

  I knew better than to get in the way of the tours that come through every few hours. It’s good publicity for the winery, but I have better things to do than exchanging pleasantries with the tourists. I didn’t get into winemaking for the social aspect; that was what I paid our tour guides for.

  So I made sure I was scarce during the tours. Occasionally, though, an emergency meant that I encountered one of the groups, much to my displeasure.

  People didn’t bang on the door of the aging room, though. At least not usually.

  I looked up from the wineglass I was using to taste a batch of zinfandel and glared at the door, as if I could see through it. Whoever it was either was an employee, and therefore could key in if it was an emergency, or it was a tourist, and I was going to kick the ass of whatever tour guide let one run free.

  Another knock, and then a woman’s voice. “If there’s anyone in there, could you please open up?”

  I don’t know what compelled me to do it. There was a melodiousness to her voice, and I think I just wanted to put a face to it. I strode over and opened the heavy metal door.

  On the other side stood the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen. Her brown hair was chopped in messy layers around her face and she had big brown eyes that I couldn’t keep myself from staring at. Her full mouth turned down at the corners, and her lower lip was trembling, as if she was hardly holding it together.

  “I’m so sorry to bother you,” she said. “I’m looking for the payphone. The man who leads the tour gave me directions, but I can’t find it.”

  I couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked for the payphone.

  “Don’t you have a cell?” I asked. It came out brusquer than I intended it to.

  “It’s not working,” she said, and I could hear an undertone of panic in her voice. “I was here with my friend, but she met a guy and left me here.”

  “Some friend,” I said, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

  Her eyes filled with tears at that, and one of them ran down her cheek.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’m a mess.”

  “You were abandoned here and you’re the mess?” I asked with a short laugh. “I think your friend is the real issue.”

  “If you could just send me in the direction of the payphone,” she said, biting her lip, “I could be out of your hair. You look busy.”

  I was.

  “Not really,” I said, before my brain could catch up to my mouth. “Come on in. You can use my phone, and maybe I can fix yours.”

  I let her into the racking room and handed her my phone. She gave me hers in return. When I turned it on, there was only a faint flicker on the screen before the phone went dark.

  “It’s been dying for a while,” she said apologetically. “Of course it had to choose today, of all days, to quit.”

  “Is today a special day?” I asked, glancing up at her.

  “My birthday,” she said. “I know it’s so silly to celebrate, but Trina really wanted to bring me here. She said that your twenty-first needs to be spent getting drunk.”

  “I think she chose the wrong place,” I said to her. “This isn’t the sort of place that people show up to just to get a buzz on.”

  “I chose it,” she said. “The vineyard is so beautiful, I always wanted to tour it. But what’s the point until I can actually try the wine?”

  “And what did you think?”

  “It’s phenomenal. I finally understand what people mean when they call wine ‘complex,’” she said. “I was having a great time until Trina took off.”

  “Well, maybe we can turn things back around,” I said. “Want to try wine straight out of the barrel?”

  Her eyes lit up with curiosity. “How is it different?”

  “Well, it’s not completely filtered, for one,” I told her. “It looks cloudier. And it might not be ready yet. That’s why I’m here. I’m checking the batch to see if it’s ready for bottling.”

  I had no idea why I was telling her all this. The smart thing to do would have been to call a car and send her out front to wait. But I couldn’t resist the genuine interest in her eyes. Most people care more about drinking wine than making it, but this beautiful woman seemed legitimately fascinated by the process.

  “I’d like that,” she said, and handed me back my phone. She hadn’t actually placed a call, but neither of us pointed that out.

  “I’m Lincoln,” I said, holding a hand out to her.

  “Alexa,” she said, returning my handshake firmly.

  I retrieved two clean glasses and put about an ounce of wine in each from the barrel I was sampling. I handed one glass to Alexa, and the first thing she did was hold it up to the light.

  “It’s hard to see the particulate matter in it,” I said. “Zinfandel’s so dark that it’s not as noticeable as it would be in, say, a riesling.”

  She brought the glass near her lips, but, instead of tasting it, she stuck her nose in the glass and inhaled.

  “I see you learned a bit from the tasting,” I said with a grin. “But I’ll tell you a secret. I don’t spit it out after I’ve taken a sip.”

  “Shocking,” she said, returning my smile. “So by the end of the day you must be in a mellow mood.”

  “Depends on how many people I’ve dealt with,” I said. “I work best by myself.”

  I saw doubt flicker over her face and immediately regretted what I’d just said.

  “I’m interrupting you, aren’t I?” she asked. “I can go. I don’t want to distract you.”

  “No!” I said, a little more forcefully than I intended to. “Stay. You haven’t even tried the wine yet.”

  She looked at me skeptically. “Ok, but I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

  “Don’t worry. If I didn’t want you here, I wouldn’t have invited you in.”

  She seemed to sense the honesty in what I said, and her face relaxed just a bit.

  I took a sip of the wine to encourage her, and she raised her glass to her lips and took a small sip. Her eyes closed and her eyelids fluttered just a little.

  “Wow,” she said. “That’s amazing.”

  “It’s not quite ready yet,” I said. “It will get more complicated as it ages further. It comes from a fantastic harvest, though, so it’s been outstanding during every step of the process.”

  “Zinfandel’s the kind of grape, right?” she asked.

  “It is. Most people are only familiar with white zinfandel, which couldn’t be more different from this.” I swirled the inky, thick liquid in my glass. “It’s old-vine. These vines were planted in the early 1900s and they’ve been here ever since.”

  “Whoa,” she said. “I didn’t even know vines could be that old.”

  “Some of them have been here since the vineyard was first planted.”

  “And how long have you been working here?” she asked.

  “My family bought the vineyard around twenty years ago,” I said. “I was just out of college an
d the idea of working with my hands intrigued me, so I took over management.”

  She stared at me, her eyes wide, and I realized that she truly had no idea who I really was. “You own this place?” she asked.

  “Well, my name is on the sign,” I said teasingly.

  “You’re Lincoln Richmond,” she mumbled. “I’m such an idiot. I can’t believe I disturbed you.”

  “Alexa.”

  She glanced up at the firm tone in my voice.

  “If I didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be here. Do I strike you as the sort of person who can’t say no?”

  “Not at all,” she said, a ghost of a smile on her lips. “But I should really let you get back to work. Can you just send me toward that payphone?”

  “Stay for dinner,” I said. “The restaurant on-site is outstanding. Let me see if I can redeem your birthday.”

  “You really don’t have to.”

  “I know,” I said. “I want to. Have dinner with me.”

  “I shouldn’t,” she said. “Thank you so much for everything, but I have to go.”

  And she set her wineglass down and rushed out the door.

  Two

  Alexa

  I woke up the next morning with a headache that had nothing to do with over-imbibing on my birthday. I’d been drawn to Lincoln from the first moment I saw him—and then I acted like an idiot in front of him.

  As if being abandoned by Trina wasn’t bad enough.

  I’d really enjoyed spending time with him before I realized who he was. He was gorgeous, funny, and just the right amount snarky—which is to say he was the perfect man for me. And the laugh lines around his eyes and flecks of gray at his temples gave him a distinguished look that made me weak in the knees.

  But, honestly, I had no business getting weak in the knees over a man like that. I knew the history of the Richmond family, and I was a little star-struck over the fact that I’d even talked to him. The Richmonds, incredibly wealthy philanthropists, had adopted an entire brood of children from different war-torn areas of the world and given them a better life—a much better life. Which apparently included owning a vineyard run by the most handsome man I’d ever met in my life.

  I groaned and pulled the blankets over my head. I’d made a fool of myself in front of him. Honestly, I couldn’t believe that I’d had the audacity to bang on the door and then walk right in. I think the wine that I’d tasted before that had given me a bit of extra courage. Of course, extra courage can often lead to extra embarrassment the following day, and I was wallowing in it.

  It had been sweet of Lincoln to invite me to stay for dinner, even if it was probably just a good piece of public relations. Although he really didn’t strike me as someone who did things just to look good.

  “Do I strike you as the sort of person who can’t say no?”

  I was lost for a couple minutes in a fantasy where I’d stayed for dinner and gotten to know Lincoln better. My fantasy ended in a very different place than reality would have, for sure. But that’s why it’s a fantasy, right? My hand was toying with the waistband of my pajama pants, just about to head lower, when I had a thought that stopped me in my tracks.

  I still hadn’t heard from Trina.

  Usually, she’d text me the morning after one of her flings, full of apologies and offers to make it up to me. Which I always let her do. But this morning, I had heard nothing, which was concerning.

  I looked on my nightstand for my phone only to find it wasn’t there. Then I realized that I didn’t remember having it since I was at the winery.

  Since I gave it to Lincoln Richmond and then rushed out before taking it back.

  I dropped my head into my hands, groaning. As if I hadn’t been awkward enough, I left my phone there. And now I either had to face him (or a member of his staff) to get it back, or just give up and buy a new phone.

  The second option was looking pretty promising, to be honest.

  Well, nothing was going to happen without some caffeine in me. I got a pot of coffee started and began planning how I was going to best approach my humiliation.

  I jumped about a foot when my doorbell buzzed. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and even Trina wouldn’t show up at my house at 11 a.m. for a personal apology. When I looked through the peephole, I saw the last person I would have imagined. Lincoln Richmond was standing on my doorstep, looking even more devastatingly handsome than he had the day before. His auburn hair was wavy and just long enough that it tousled adorably when he ran his hand through it, and his eyes were a deep blue. I was momentarily distracted thinking of how easy it would be to lose myself in them. But then I remembered that he was on my doorstep and I was still wearing my ratty old bathrobe.

  Nothing to be done for it, though. I took a deep breath and opened the door enough to stick my head out, but hopefully not enough to give him a full view of the bathrobe.

  “Hi,” he said simply, giving me that disarming smile of his. “Look, I know this is weird, and I apologize.”

  He handed me a small box. It was a brand new top-of-the-line smartphone.

  “I couldn’t get yours to work, so I got you a new one,” he said. “The data’s all transferred over.”

  “How did you get my address?” I asked. I had a million other questions, but that’s the one that came out.

  He looked at the floor, a bit embarrassed. “I texted your friend Trina.”

  Trina!

  “Is she ok?” I asked.

  “Seemed to be,” he said. “Although she chewed me out for waking her up when she still thought it was you texting her. Sorry about that.”

  Yeah, it sounded like Trina was doing just fine. With that particular concern put to rest, my mind seized on the fact that Lincoln was there at all. It seemed like a lot of effort put towards a woman that he didn’t even know.

  “But you didn’t have to do this,” I said, gesturing towards the phone. “In fact, I’m not sure why you did.”

  “You’re not used to people being nice to you, are you, Alexa?” Lincoln asked, cupping my cheek and tilting my head up so I was looking right at him.

  I shook my head. “In my experience, people are only nice when they want something.”

  “Oh, I want something, all right,” Lincoln said, and the fire that blazed in those blue eyes sent a shiver through my body. “I want you to come to lunch with me.”

  “I couldn’t impose,” I said lamely.

  “So you said yesterday, and it’s an even worse excuse today. Alexa, the only thanks I’ll accept for the phone is you coming out to lunch with me. So you’re either going to have to come with me, or I’ll remain thoroughly unthanked for your birthday present.”

  Man, if he hadn’t figured out how to guilt me.

  “All right,” I said. “I’ll just need a few minutes to get ready.”

  “I’ll wait right here,” he said with a grin. “Unless you’d like to invite me inside.”

  I just kept getting smoother and smoother. I stuttered an invitation for him to come in and then escaped to my bedroom.

  I closed the door and flung my back against it. There was a gorgeous man in my living room, and he wanted to take me to lunch at the restaurant at his vineyard. Maybe I was dreaming. Maybe I was still drunk. Stuff like this just didn’t happen to girls like me.

  As if he could hear my thoughts, Lincoln called, “Are you getting dressed, Alexa, or are you standing in the middle of your room worrying?”

  Well, wasn’t he wrong? I was standing against the door worrying.

  “I’m getting dressed,” I called back, but my voice betrayed me by wavering a bit.

  “I can come help, if you’d like,” he said.

  Yum. Yes, please.

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Grab a scarf, if you have one. I drive fast and the top’s down.”

  So that’s how I found myself in a very nice convertible with a very handsome man on a Sunday morning.

  Three

  Lincoln


  Alexa soon emerged from her bedroom, looking ridiculously beautiful in cropped pants and a soft-looking sweater that I was itching to touch, more because of the curves it hugged than because of the texture.

  “Ready,” she said, her eyes flashing to mine and then down at the floor again. God, I wanted every inch of her. Her shyness just made me want to bring out her wanton side, make her scream as I brought her to climax over and over again.

  My cock was stiffening, and I was ashamed of the fact that I was standing there having filthy thoughts about her while she looked like an angel. We needed to get into the car, fast, so I had something to concentrate on other than the swell of her hips and ass.

  I took her back to the winery. I wasn’t kidding about our on-site restaurant being the best. She was quiet during most of the drive—that is, until I got her talking about cooking.

  “I’ve always wanted to be a pastry chef,” she said, blushing a bit as she smiled. “I’ve never been very good at late nights. I’d rather get there in the morning before everyone else and spend some time just creating.”

  “I know that feeling,” I said. “I typically work alone at the winery. Other people get in the way, and you spend more time dealing with them than getting work done.”

  “I really am so sorry,” she said, her cheeks flushing beautifully. “If I’d known, I never would have interrupted.”

  “Some interruptions are worth it,” I said. “That one certainly was.”

  I saw her glance at me as if she still wasn’t prepared to believe me. I could deal with that. Patience is a strong suit of mine, when I want it to be. I moved the conversation back to safer ground.

  “So what’s your signature pastry?” I asked.