The Seductive One
Page 6

“How’s our cash flow?” he asked, changing the subject to something less personal.
“What do you want to buy? More land? Maybe a small island somewhere?”
“Very funny. Actually I was thinking of making a loan.”
Maggie frowned. “To whom?”
“Someone I know wants to start a winery.”
“And you just love training the competition?”
He shrugged. “How many new concerns make it?”
Maggie blinked. “You want to loan money for a winery start-up you expect to fail?”
“I don’t expect it to fail.” Not exactly. But Brenna had been out of the business a long time. Ten years ago he would have bet on her in a heartbeat, but now? He wasn’t so sure.
“Are you making the loan yourself, or is this from the company?” Maggie asked.
“Which do you suggest?”
“It depends on terms. There are tax implications either way. How much money are we talking about?”
Nic settled back to watch the show. “A million dollars.”
Maggie pushed to her feet and planted her hands on her hips. Her eyes widened and her cheeks turned as red as her hair. “Are you insane?”
“Is this how you talk to your boss?”
“I do when he’s in serious need of therapy. You’re considering loaning someone a million dollars and you think there’s a chance they might fail?”
He shrugged. “It would be a good write-off.”
“It would be really dumb. I mean it, Nic. I know this is your company and you can tell me to pound sand if you want, but this is a really, really bad idea.”
“Have I ever told you to pound sand?”
“Not in so many words, but you frequently ignore my very sound financial advice.”
“This may have to be another one of those times.” He rose and faced her. “Work up a couple different ways to come up with the money. I don’t know if I want to do it privately or through the company, so go at it from both angles.”
“Why would you do this?”
He grinned. “Because I can.”
3
Sweat prickled Brenna’s back as the hot California sun burned through her T-shirt. She wore a wide-brimmed hat to protect her face and should have used gloves, but she didn’t have the dexterity to feel what she was doing with them on. As a result, her fingers were bruised, her nails broken, and she’d been scratched from fingertips to wrist by dozens of grapevines.
As she crouched between the rows of lush plants, she inhaled the heady aroma of ripe Chardonnay grapes. She took the heavy bunches in her hand and carefully cut them free, imagining the pale green juice running free as the ripe, tender fruit was squeezed. Marcelli Wines Reserve Chardonnay was one of the best in the country, and this harvest was going to be one for the record books. As she worked, cutting grapes free and dropping them into the bin in front of her, she calculated tons per acre and bottles per ton.
When she’d first seen the potential success of the harvest, she’d wanted to hold some of the grapes back for blending. She had an idea for a cuvée she’d been wanting to try and this was the year. But her grandfather had refused to listen, instead telling her that they had always made Reserve Chardonnay from the best grapes, and he wasn’t going to let any of them go to waste because she wanted to experiment.
“The man’s a fool,” she told herself as she shifted to the next plant and began cutting.
Around her the migrant workers who had shown up at the beginning of the week worked quickly, filling three bins of grapes for every one of hers. She didn’t practice enough to be efficient and her heart wasn’t in the task.
Yesterday they’d brought in the first grapes. She’d been there as they’d been carefully loaded on the conveyor belt that would carry them into the giant vat for crushing. She’d sorted and watched, then tasted the first juice of the harvest. One sip had told her it was going to be a good year.
The realization that it might be the last year for Marcelli Wines—if her grandfather went ahead and sold, or left everything to her newly found brother—had driven her from the winery and into the fields. She’d stayed there all day yesterday and had remained there today. She felt restless and tense. It had been three days. Why hadn’t Nic called?
She’d been so sure he was going to loan her the money, but as time passed, she became less confident. Without him, there wasn’t going to be a Four Sisters Winery. Without his money she was completely on her own. Her current checking-account balance hovered around twelve thousand dollars. Since she and Jeff had split, she’d been able to save most of her paycheck. Unfortunately combining that with the money her ex would soon be sending her wasn’t close to enough.
The long row of plants stretched out in front of her. Brenna continued to cut the clusters, ignoring those that weren’t ripe enough, working methodically, wondering how much worse her shoulders were going to hurt by the end of the day when her cell phone rang.
Her youngest sister, Mia, was heading back from six weeks at a Japanese language school in Washington, D.C. Delayed at Dulles Airport by a canceled flight, Mia passed the morning by phoning her siblings and telling them about her adventures. She’d already called Brenna twice in two hours. Each time Brenna had been so sure it was Nic, that she’d barely been able to breathe. Now she knew better and didn’t bother to glance at the caller ID.
“I’m busy,” she said as she straightened slightly. “So stop calling me.”
“Is this a bad time?”
The low male voice sounded nothing like eighteen-year-old Mia. Instead it sounded intimate, familiar, and too sexy for comfort.
“Nic?”
“I can call back.”
She glanced around to make sure she wasn’t likely to be overheard. The regular crew had long moved past her and was nearly halfway down the row. She shifted so she could plop down on her butt.
Her breathing hadn’t stopped, but there was a tightness in her chest. Tension filled her. Was he going to tell her yes?
“This is fine. I’m helping with harvest and I could use a break.”
“You’re out in the fields?”
“Uh-huh. I’m hot and sweaty. I’m a real fashion statement.”
“Why aren’t you in the winery? Shouldn’t you be worrying about the fermenting?”
“My grandfather and I had a disagreement, as usual. I’m in a snit, so I thought I’d come out here and sulk.”
“His loss.”
“That’s my feeling.” She wiped the sweat from her face. Her heart felt as if it were beating so hard it was going to jump into another dimension. “So, um, did you come to any decisions?”
“Yeah. I’m thinking about getting a dog.”
Brenna glanced up at the bright sun. Had she been out for too long? Was her brain being poached?
“Okay,” she said slowly. “Dogs are nice. Did you have a particular breed in mind?”
“A golden retriever. Not exactly an untraditional choice, but I want something big and friendly.”
“They qualify.”
“There’s a breeder up in Ojai. I was thinking of heading out there this afternoon and taking a look. I already called and they have a litter of puppies that are just weaned. A couple are spoken for, but there are five or six available.”
Okay—one of them was crazy. Why did Nic think she cared about him getting a dog? Was he telling her about the puppy so that she would think he was a swell guy even though he was going to turn her down?
“That sounds just peachy. I hope you have fun.”
She’d blinked several times before she realized her eyes were burning. There was no way she was going to cry over this, she told herself even as her throat got all tight. Dammit, she’d been so sure he was going to say yes that she hadn’t bothered with a fall-back plan…mostly because he was her fall-back plan.
The loss of her dream made her feel sick to her stomach. She wanted to curl up in a ball and die.
“Look Nic, I really need to get back to—”
“I thought you might like to come with me.”
“I’m not in the market for a puppy.”
“It would give us a chance to talk.”
The sick feeling went away. Hope blossomed and grew until it pushed out every other emotion. “Do we have something to talk about?”
“I have a few questions. If I like the answers, then yes, I would say we do.”
If Brenna hadn’t been sitting she would have fallen down. “Are you going to loan me the money?”
“Like I said, I still need convincing, but I’m about seventy percent there. It’s nearly eleven. Why don’t you get cleaned up and head over to my place? Be here by noon and we’ll go to Ojai. On the way to the breeder, we can talk about your proposal.”
“Th-that sounds great. I’ll be there.”
“See ya.”
She heard a click in her ear. She pushed the Off button on her cell phone, then flopped on her back on the dirt and burst out laughing.
“Holy shit!” she yelled to the heavens. “He’s going to say yes!”
Thirty minutes later Brenna stood in front of her bathroom mirror and tried to manipulate the blow-dryer and a fat, round brush. Normally she simply let her hair air dry. Since the unfortunate incident of the haircut she’d impulsively indulged in after Jeff had dumped her, she hadn’t bothered much with style. As her entire world had been reduced to the hacienda and the winery, there wasn’t anyone to impress, so she’d let her morning routine slide to a quick shower followed by body lotion.
Right now she wanted to look dazzling. Not dressed up but attractive and confident. But what exactly did one wear when one wanted to be considered worthy of a million-dollar loan?
As she fumbled with the brush and tried to add a little volume and shine to her hair, she considered her options. Suit, dress, jeans, shorts. Nothing.
The latter made her both wince and smile. It had been ten years and fifteen pounds since Nic had seen her naked. She didn’t think she should expose her more rounded self without some kind of warning. Besides, this wasn’t about sex, it was about business. So a suit?
But it was August, damn hot, and they were going puppy shopping. Not exactly an itinerary for a skirt and pumps.
When her hair was somewhat styled and nearly dry, she tossed down the brush and blow-dryer, then lunged for her makeup case. At least she had decent skin with medium olive coloring that meant she didn’t need much in the way of base or concealer. She smudged on a little eye shadow, applied mascara and lip gloss, then headed for her closet.
Three minutes later she’d settled on what she hoped was suitable puppy-shopping attire: khaki shorts, a teal polo shirt, and sandals. She slipped on a watch, simple hoop earrings, and ran the brush through her hair one last time before grabbing her purse and car keys and ducking out the door.
It was 11:58 when she pulled up in front of the Wild Sea Vineyards winery. The building facades hadn’t changed in a generation, but a half dozen new structures had been added in the past few years. She could see the tasting building about a half mile away and all the tourists’ cars parked in front. To her left and right were acres of grapes; behind her was the house.
She stepped out into the warm afternoon and pulled off her sunglasses. In the past hour she’d been too busy getting ready to think about being nervous, but suddenly the butterflies migrated to her stomach and began dive-bombing her pancreas. She felt hot, thirsty, tense, and apprehensive. If her emotions were a liquid, they would be thick, green, and bubbling.
The brew got worse when Nic stepped out of the winery. He wore jeans and a T-shirt. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes.
She’d seen him dressed like this hundreds of times, maybe more. So he was tall, muscular, and good-looking. She was only interested in his money. Nothing about the man appealed to her. Really.