Seductive One

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.

Brenna shoved her car keys into her jeans pocket and sighed. She wasn’t a very good liar, not even to herself. It might have been ten years and a lot of miles since she and Nic had been a whole lot more than friends, but some part of her remembered every detail of their time together. Especially the time they’d spent in bed.

She remembered the warmth of his skin. They’d mostly made love outdoors, so in her mind sun heat and Nic heat were almost the same. They’d discovered the sensual pleasures of making love in the cool June rain, by the beach in July, and under thick canopies of grapes on a sultry August night.

Their favorite indoor location had been the fermentation room, empty until harvest but still dark and quiet, smelling of yeast and magic. Sometimes, when she walked by the fermentation rooms at Marcelli and caught a whiff of that distinctive perfume, she flashed back to Nic’s body against her, his hands everywhere, their need spiraling out of control.

Ten years, a lot of miles, and one failed marriage later, she still remembered…perhaps more than she should.

“You made it,” he said, pulling off his sunglasses and offering a smile.

“I was motivated,” she admitted, determined to act completely cool. “And curious. I never thought of you as the pet type.”

“I’ve wanted a dog for a while. This seemed like a good time. You ready?”

She nodded and followed him to the multicar garage. Her thighs did some kind of weird shimmy thing, which made it hard to walk. She hadn’t thought about getting there-to Ojai. This was Nic-the guy who rode motorcycles.

She had an instant vision of herself on the bike with him, riding behind, holding on, being really, really close. She would wrap her arms around him and feel each time he took a breath. Eventually their hearts would start to beat in unison, just as soon as hers stopped kicking into hyper-drive. It would be fun, intimate, exciting, and more than a little dangerous.

She couldn’t wait.

He stepped into the garage and hit a button that activated an overhead door. Light spilled in from outside. As her eyes adjusted, she saw an expensive Jaguar convertible-the really sleek kind, a Land Rover, and three motorcycles. Which was two more than he’d had before.

As she glanced around for extra helmets, Nic walked to the Land Rover and held open the passenger door. “In case we come back with a puppy,” he said. “I don’t want it chewing up my good car.”

Sensual heat drained out of her like water draining out of a bathtub. Right. Nic was buying a dog. People didn’t show up on a motorcycle if they were pet shopping. It wouldn’t look responsible. It’s not as if the puppy could wear a helmet and hang on from behind. What had she been thinking?

She hadn’t, she realized as she slid into the passenger seat and waited while Nic closed the door. She’d been caught up in the past and feeling. Which was really stupid. What about her dreams? What about her mission? The drive to Ojai was her opportunity to convince Nic to loan her the money. She had to focus.

As Nic settled in next to her, she vowed to keep things strictly business. She was about to mention the loan when he spoke.

“Have you started harvesting the Reserve Chardonnay?” he asked.

“Yesterday.”

He turned the key and started the engine, then glanced at her. “And?”

“The grapes are pretty spectacular,” she admitted. “Exactly ripe, with just enough sweetness. You wouldn’t have to have any talent to make this harvest a success. What about you? The Chardonnay grapes ready?”

“In most of the fields. I have crews out.”

They backed out of the garage. He hit a remote to close the door, then turned the vehicle and headed down the main drive to the highway.

“And?” she asked, grinning. “Are you going to have a brilliant year?”

“It looks that way.”

She wasn’t surprised. She’d been hearing that it was turning into a good harvest for everyone. Which was a whole lot better than the years when everyone was scrambling. She still shuddered when she thought back to 1998 when California Cabernet had suffered from low yields due to uncooperative weather. The Cab grapes hadn’t ripened correctly. It had been one of the few times she hadn’t minded not being involved with Marcelli Wines.

“So what did you and your grandfather argue about?” he asked.

“I want to use some of the Reserve grapes for a cuvée. He thinks they should all be bottled as Reserve Chardonnay. They’re our best-producing vines and I see his point, but I’ve had this idea for a great cuvée. He’s a purist and old-fashioned.”

Nic glanced at her. “Chardonnay is one of the most popular wines around. Why would you want to try something new?”

“Because I think blends are becoming more popular. Both Kendall-Jackson and Columbia Crest up in Washington State have done really well with Cabernet-Merlot blends. Qupe Winery has a cuvée that sells out about thirty seconds after it gets bottled.”

“And because you like to experiment.”

She shrugged. “I’ll admit it. I want to create the perfect white wine. Light, slightly fruity. I want the finish to be crisp, with a hint of sweetness. Minimal oak. I want it to taste cold, even when it’s not.”

He glanced at her. “That’s a tall order.”

“It can be done. Assuming you cough up the money, I’m going to buy the Schulers’ Chardonnay grapes. I have some Voignier on reserve up in Napa. I figure with the right blend and barrel fermenting I’ll-”

“You’re going to barrel ferment?”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “You sound like my grandfather. Yes, I am. I know it’s expensive and more time-consuming, but the blend will be smoother and the color lighter. Which is what I want.”

“What about your Pinot Noir?”

She watched as they merged onto 101 south heading for the off ramp that led to Ojai.

“I went and saw the grapes last week. They need about another month.”

“You know good Pinot’s a bitch to make.”

She turned to look at him. “I am more than up to the challenge.”

He grinned. “Okay, so Chardonnay, a cuvée, and Pinot. Anything else on the Brenna Marcelli radar scope?”

She did ten minutes on her plans for the perfect Cabernet. As she wasn’t able to grow her own grapes, not yet anyway, she’d lined up a list of potential purchases. Rather than buy in bulk from one seller, she would pick up small batches from several to get the exact blend she wanted.

“I’m going a hundred percent on this Cab,” she concluded. “No Cab Franc or Merlot to smooth it out. I’m not looking for a wine that will cellar for twenty years, either. At least not at first. I want it good in three years and great in four.”

“Don’t we all?”

She allowed herself a smile. “The difference is I know how to do it.”

“And I don’t?”

“Did I say that? You do fine. Wild Sea is known all over the country.”

“Volume not quality?”

The argument was familiar.

“I’ve kept track of Wild Sea wines,” she said. “You know all this, Nic. You’re too focused on getting the most number of cases per ton. You need to give up that last ten percent. It’s not worth it. Oh, and there were a couple of poor barrel choices for the 2000 Reserve Merlot.”

“This is how you convince me to loan you money? By insulting my wines?”

She shifted in her seat, adjusting the seat belt so she could face him. “If you didn’t want my opinion, you wouldn’t have asked.”

“I don’t recall asking.”

“You phrased ‘volume, not quality’ in a tone of voice that implied a question. That’s asking.”

He glanced at her. “You’re still stubborn.”

“I’m also still right. You might outsell Marcelli Wines four to one, but we get nearly three times as many wins at competitions, and I’m sure I don’t have to remind you about our ratings from the various magazines and critics.”

“No, you don’t. Want to compare gross profits?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Only if you want me to drool in your car.”

“Let’s save that for the puppy.”

They left the freeway and turned onto the road to Ojai. August in California meant sunny days and little rain. In summer much of the state turned brown.

Brenna studied Nic’s strong profile and the competent way he drove.

This was the longest they’d spent in each other’s company in what felt like forever. She was nervous about a lot of things, but also oddly relaxed. Maybe because he’d always been so easy to be around. Because of their differing opinions on everything from wine to politics, they fought all the time. Yet their arguing was never hostile-instead it was more of a hobby they shared. They discussed with plenty of emotion, they called each other names, they even threatened bodily harm-in the best way possible, all without either of them ever really getting mad. At least they used to. Currently, they were only arguing.

She found herself wondering what he’d been doing for the past ten years. Oh, she knew the basics. He’d spent eighteen months in France, exiled by his grandfather, Emilio. Best not to think about that, she told herself. After all, Nic being driven away had pretty much been her fault.

In the end Nic had been vindicated when his grandfather begged him to return to run the family vineyard. Nic had agreed, taking over the day-to-day operations. When Emilio died, Nic inherited everything.

In the past seven or eight years Wild Sea had grown, mostly through acquisition. If a winery went out of business, or someone got tired of the ups and downs of the industry, Nic was there with the best offer to be had. He’d always said he wanted to be the biggest and best. By most standards, he already was.

“Why do you want to bother?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts. “You could fall on your butt and end up owing me a million dollars plus interest.”

She’d done her best to forget why she was here. Suddenly it was show time. She considered the question.

“I was a fool to walk away from Marcelli Wines ten years ago. I didn’t realize my heart and soul were buried in the land and that without them I was an empty shell.”

“And here I thought you were happily married.”

She tried to figure out if there was heat or sarcasm in his words, but couldn’t hear either. Maybe it was just a statement.

“I thought I was, too. It was all an illusion. Now I’m back and I can’t believe the difference. I never want to lose the land or the vines again. My grandfather has options he considers a lot more interesting than leaving me in charge, so I’m willing to take the chance. I don’t consider failure possible.”

“Some people would say that’s arrogant.”

“I don’t care what some people say. I know what I’m doing. I have a plan. I’m not afraid to work hard.”

“What are you afraid of?”

She straightened in her seat and stared out the front window. “Interesting question. I guess being stupid. Giving it all up for something that doesn’t matter.”

As soon as the words fell out of her mouth, she wanted to grab them and stuff them back. Of all the idiotic, insensitive, ill-timed things to say, that was it. If she wanted to make sure Nic didn’t loan her the money, she’d just come up with the perfect strategy.

“So we have that in common,” he said, his voice even.

She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them. “Nic, I-”

“Don’t sweat it,” he said, cutting her off.

“But I really-”

“No, you don’t. I’m not interested in the past. It’s boring. I find the future far more intriguing. Assuming you make it through the first year, then what?”

She didn’t know what to say. There were things she wanted to explain, despite the fact that he obviously didn’t want to listen. Maybe she should just answer the question.

“Buy more grapes, make more wine. By year two I’ll start selling. I know the distributors. I’m not worried about getting into restaurants and stores.”

He was going to say no. She’d just blown the opportunity of a lifetime. Why couldn’t she remember to think before she spoke? It wasn’t hard. She had a functioning brain most of the time.

“I’d want a callable note,” he said.

“What?”

“A callable note. There would be a payment schedule and a reasonable rate of interest. I’ll even hold off two years until you have to start paying me back. But in return the note is callable at any time. You start to stumble, I’m not going to wait for the crash. I’ll call in the note and take everything you have.”

Her mind went blank. One second there were thoughts, the next, nothing. Her hands clenched tight, her legs felt icy cold, and her heart stood still. Then rational thought returned, as did her body temperature. She raised her arms and pressed her hands flat against the roof of the SUV.

“Did you just say you were loaning me the money?” she asked carefully.

“Uh-huh.”

She glanced at him and saw he was smiling. “I can’t believe it.”

“Does that mean I shouldn’t have the papers drawn up in the morning?”

“No. Please. Draw away.”

Brenna started to laugh. She wanted to throw herself at Nic and kiss him. Good sense and a seat belt held her in check. Instead she rolled down the passenger’s-side window and stuck her head out into the hot afternoon.

“I just got a loan for a million dollars!” she yelled to the trees. “I’m going to open a winery!”

Joy flooded her. She was going to get her chance. When she flopped back in her seat, she closed the window, then looked at Nic.

“For real?”

“You already announced it to the world. How could I say no?”

Happiness made her blood bubble like champagne. “I can’t believe it. You actually have a million dollars.”

“I have a whole lot more than that.”

“Show-off.”

“Hey, how about a little gratitude? I’m going out on a limb here.”

She sighed. “I am grateful. You have no idea.” She turned to him. “So why did you say yes?”

“I think you’re a good bet.”

After ten years of Jeff telling her that her life was uninteresting and second-rate when compared with him becoming a doctor and six months of fighting with her grandfather about everything from barrel time to labels, Nic’s words made her glow.

“Yeah?”

“You know what you’re doing. With a little luck and a lot of hard work, you can make your venture a success. I get good return on my investment. It’s a win-win.”

“The first bottle I produce is yours,” she said. “As my way of saying thank you.”

“A measly bottle? You owe me at least a case.”

“All right. A case it is.”

At this point she would have promised him a kidney. He’d given her the means to make her dream come true. Surely that was worth at least an organ or two.