“She is beautiful,” Eli said. “Can I pet her?”
“No, she only lets me.” Bast rubbed her face on the fence. “I saved her life. Someone had shot her. I nursed her back to health.”
“Doesn’t she want to return to the wild?”
“She doesn’t seem to. I take her out for a walk every day. If she wanted to get away, she could. Cats have good memories—she knows it’s dangerous out there.” Giselle scratched the lioness behind her ears. “Besides, she has a good life here. Plenty to eat, lots of love. Wild animals don’t get that.”
Bast lay down and rolled around on the ground, dusting her tawny fur with red dirt. Eli mentally compared the delicate woman beside him to the powerful animal.
“Aren’t you afraid she’ll turn on you one day?”
“No,” Giselle answered. “We respect each other. And anyway, strength isn’t just brute force. Gandhi said ‘Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from indomitable will.’ I’d add to that knowledge, perseverance, and the ability to control your emotions rather than letting them control you.” She gave Eli a sagacious smile. “That’s what got me out of the Louisiana swamps and into a six-figure job.”
“Texas has more than two hundred wineries,” Coyote told Eli as they strolled between the rows of grapevines. In the setting sun, the green-gold leaves glowed like bronze above the iron-red soil. “Our warm days, cool nights, and low humidity are perfect for growing grapes.”
“You seem content here.”
“It’s an easier life. Friendly people, relaxed pace. Sure, there’s competition between wineries, but it’s not like California.”
Eli plucked a grape and squeezed it, letting the juice drip between his fingers.
“What are the down sides?”
“Water’s the biggest one. We have an irrigation system, but a little more rain would sure be welcome.”
Easing into the subject foremost in his mind, Eli said, “You know about Meditrina’s problems with the Mort Jaune, I assume.”
Coyote examined the leaves on a couple vines, as if checking for the telltale yellowing caused by the fungus. “Yeah, I heard.”
“Your vines are of French origin. Any signs of it here?”
“Nope. So far Meditrina’s the only place in this country that’s been hit. But it can take a few years to show up, so we might see more outbreaks in the future.”
“Don’t you find it odd that Meditrina’s the only American vineyard with the disease?” Eli asked. He waited for his former colleague to answer, and when he didn’t, continued, “I think someone intentionally infected our vines.”
“I know. I read your comments on the blogs.” The big man pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. “Do you have any proof, or just suspicions?”
“We both know the French are pissed off because California’s wineries are taking business and awards away from them.”
“Hell, the French have been pissed off since the Americans sent them Phylloxera back in the mid-1800s.”
Eli told Coyote about his apartment getting ransacked and the two Frenchmen who’d assaulted him in San Francisco. “They knew who I was. It wasn’t a random attack or a hold-up gone bad.”
Coyote mulled it over for a few moments before asking, “If they wanted to make a statement, why target Meditrina instead of the big wineries?”
“I’ve considered the same thing. Which makes me wonder if somebody has a particular grudge against Meditrina.”
The sun slid below the horizon, splashing the sky with streaks of vivid pink and purple.
Coyote paused to watch the spectacle. “One of the things I like best about Texas is the sky.” After a minute or so of silent observation, he said, “Maybe you’re making too much of this French connection thing. Could just be a coincidence. Or bad luck.”
“Troy suggested that too, but I disagree. Whoever infected our vines had to have motive, means, and opportunity.”
The brilliant colors faded as rapidly as they’d appeared. “Let’s head back,”
Coyote said. “Giselle will be holding up dinner for us.”
After a Texas-style supper that included steaks so big they hung over the edges of the plates, pie made with fresh local peaches, and copious quantities of wine, Coyote stretched out on the huge leather sofa and promptly fell asleep. Eli helped Giselle carry their dishes into the kitchen.
“Just leave the dishes,” she said. “I’ll walk to the guesthouse with you.”
“Thanks for your hospitality,” Eli said as they stepped out into the peaceful night.
She took his arm. “I’m glad you could come visit, even if it’s only for a few days. What’s next on your itinerary?”
“I’m going to San Antonio, then New Orleans. After that, I don’t know. I’d like to go back to Napa, if that’s possible.”
“Well, if you change your mind about Napa, I’m sure we could find a place for you here.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
The air had cooled off considerably in the past few hours. Overhead, millions of stars glittered in the big, black sky.
“I understand what Coyote meant,” he said. “The sky is amazing.”
“After being here, I can’t imagine ever living in a city again.”
“Cities aren’t my thing either,” he said, holding the cabin door for her.
Inside, she lit a lamp beside the bed, then closed all the curtains. Without a word she began unbuttoning her blouse. Her bright red fingertips flicked down the starched white cotton like drops of blood. By the time she’d finished, revealing full breasts overflowing her underwire bra, Eli’s cock was as hard as a crowbar.
Giselle unhooked her bra and cast it aside, baring a stunning pair of breasts.
Cupping them in her hands, she offered them to him. “Rub my tits with your talisman. I want you to give me good luck.”
Eagerly, he caressed her smooth flesh with his tattooed palm while he sucked her nipples until they were as dark and hard and big as purple grapes.
“And now I’m going to show you my other beautiful pussy,” she said, her voice a low growl. Like a lioness, he thought, watching her strip off her slacks.
Through her white lace bikinis he could see her black triangle. Kneeling before her, he pressed his face to her mound, inhaling her scent. Like warm earth and damp moss. He pulled the thin fabric aside to lick her wet slit. Then he ripped off her panties and pushed her onto the bed.
She propped herself up on the pillows and spread her legs, knees bent. While he shed his clothing, she toyed with her pussy. The magenta lips peeking from her dark curls glistened with her juice. Eli’s cock aimed toward her, magnetized like the arrow on a compass.
She opened her legs wider. “You like it, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question.
“It’s magnificent.”
She pinched her nipples and grinned at Eli. “Want to fuck my beautiful tits?”
In an instant, he was on top of her, his cock pumping her cleavage, his tongue lapping her cunt, while she stroked his balls, his perineum, his ass.
“It tastes better than any wine you’ve ever drunk, doesn’t it?” she purred as he sucked her clit.
“Mmmmm.”
Eli heard the nightstand drawer open, then the sound of foil tearing.
“Turn around,” she ordered.
He did, and Giselle fit a condom over the head of his swollen cock. Underneath him, she shifted her position, pushing herself up on all fours so he could mount her from behind. Like a lion, he thought again as he sank into her. Squeezing her tits, he thrust again and again, while she growled and snarled and yowled like a wildcat. He bit the back of her neck. She tightened around him and let out an inhuman shriek, her contractions milking his cock. Howling his own pleasure, he came with such force, he nearly passed out.