7

Why had Nic kissed her?

As the question passed through her brain for the four thousandth time that day, Brenna found herself no closer to an answer. She didn’t know why he’d kissed her, and she sure didn’t know why she’d let him. It had been stupid. He was her…She hesitated. Not business partner, but something. The man had loaned her a lot of money. She shouldn’t go around kissing him. Their relationship had to be strictly business. Actually, in the best of all worlds they wouldn’t have a relationship at all. They would nod as they passed each other at the grocery store, nothing more.

But last night she’d done a lot more than nod. If she hadn’t come to her senses when she did, she probably would have been ripping off her clothes and begging him to take her.

She crossed to the large fermenting vat in the main building of the Marcelli Winery and checked the temperature of the pale liquid inside. After noting the number on her clipboard, she walked to the next vat.

It didn’t mean anything, she told herself. It couldn’t. She and Nic were old news. Last night had been…a warning, she decided. That was it. He’d kissed her, she kissed him back, and that was certainly something they couldn’t do. Not if she was going to stay sane, not to mention safe. As far as she was concerned, Nic Giovanni was still dangerous. Pathetic, but true. She would avoid him and thereby avoid the problem. And should she find herself in his company-because she was spending a lot of time at his place-she would treat him like a co-worker. There would be no intimate conversations, no lip locking of any kind, and certainly no naked body parts pressing and slipping together in a way designed to make both people feel as if their entire-

“Snap out of it,” she muttered as she walked to the next vat. “Work. Concentrate on work.”

Easier said than done when the yeasty smell filling the room reminded her of making love with Nic. She sighed. Why couldn’t he have been a car mechanic? Then they could have made love in an auto shop instead of a winery. She could easily go the rest of her life without smelling motor oil. Wine and wine-making scents, on the other hand, were impossible to avoid.

So why had he kissed her?

Brenna nearly screamed out loud when she realized she’d mentally circled around to the damn kiss again.

“Brenna? Are you in here?”

“Yes, Grandpa.”

A distraction, she thought. That was something.

She wove her way through the massive vats toward the door. Grandpa Lorenzo stood just inside the fermentation room. He held several sheets of paper in his hand. She recognized the brightly colored logo in the top corner and felt her need to scream increase. Judging from the look on the elder Marcelli’s face, this wasn’t going to go well.

“I have the new label designs,” he said when she stopped in front of him. “For the Reserve Chardonnay.”

She clutched her clipboard to her chest and vowed she would not react, no matter what he said.

Despite his seventy-plus years, her grandfather stood straight and tall, several inches taller than she. He might have gray in his hair, but his dark eyes were still young and expressive. They could flash with anger and disapproval. Gee, they were doing it right now. She braced herself for the complaint.

“What is this?” he asked, holding up the first design. “A horse? A goat? We now have animals on our labels?”

Abstract designs in cool colors swirled together in the center of the label, before bleeding out into the mossy green of the border.

“It’s not a goat,” she said. “It’s not anything. Just colors and shapes together.”

He turned the paper around so he could squint at it, then shook his head. “No goats.”

He flipped through the six remaining designs. “Too flashy. Too new. Why do we have to change the labels on the Reserve Chardonnay? The old labels work fine. People know what they look like. Simple. Marcelli Wines in big letters. Not this.”

He flung the sheet with the picture of the arch over the entrance to the winery at her. Brenna caught it and set the paper on her clipboard.

“We’ve been using the same label for five years, Grandpa. It’s time for a change.” She willed herself to be patient. “We discussed this. You agreed.”

He dismissed her with a flick of his hand. “I wouldn’t agree to such nonsense. I hate them all. Who did you hire to come up with these?”

Brenna’s teeth ached from grinding them together. “A firm in Los Angeles. I picked them because they were innovative and excited by the project.” She took the rest of the pages from him. “I happen to like what they’ve done.”

He frowned. “Not the goat.”

“It wasn’t my favorite, but I thought the others were great. Obviously you didn’t. I’ll phone them and have them send us out some more ideas.”

“Tell them to make the new labels like the old ones.”

“If you want them exactly the same, what’s the point in bothering with a new design?” She sucked in a breath. “I know our loyal customers recognize our label, but they would still find us with a new one, and we might attract new buyers.”

“So now you know what our buyers think, eh?”

“I’ve been reading up on marketing. I’ve given you several articles. Didn’t you look at them?”

He shrugged. “I’m busy. Besides, what do they know? My father started Marcelli Wines from nothing. He took this earth and he created all that you see around us. When they respect that, we’ll talk.”

Brenna wasn’t even sure who “they” were. Before she could ask, her grandfather sighed heavily and tossed the labels on the floor.

“You need to respect the old ways.”

Hardly a news flash, she thought as she gauged the distance to the door and wondered if running screaming into the afternoon would make her feel better. It wasn’t quite as good as running screaming into the night, but a woman had to make the best of what was available.

“I respect the old ways,” she said, striving for calm. “I’m also interested in what the new ways have to offer.”

He shook his head in obvious disgust. “Your brother, he would listen.”

Brenna was so stunned, she nearly dropped the clipboard. “What? My brother? The guy you’ve never even met? How on earth do you know what he would do or not do? That is such an unfair thing to say to me. If Joe has any interest at all in this winery, it’s only for the money.”

She would know. When she and Francesca had gone to meet Joe Larson, their long-lost brother, he’d shown little or no interest in the Marcelli family until he’d heard there was a winery worth about forty million dollars.

Lorenzo drew his thick eyebrows together. “The wine is in his blood.”

“I don’t think so. You can’t be serious about leaving everything to him.”

Her grandfather shrugged. “I do what I have to do.”

He turned and left.

Brenna sank onto the floor and rested her head on her knees. “This is not happening,” she murmured. Her eyes burned, her chest hurt. There was no way her grandfather could really leave the winery to someone he’d never met. Blood or no blood. And doing it just because Joe was a guy?

“This sucks,” she whispered.

It more than sucked. It hurt down to her bones. Of course she’d known that having a brother changed things, but she’d hoped she’d been wrong.

The designs for the labels lay where Grandpa Lorenzo had tossed them. Apparently her disagreements with him over the labels were the least of her problems. Things had gotten so difficult that she and her grandfather couldn’t go a day without arguing about something. Half the time she expected him to fire her. Except she was family and he couldn’t.

But he didn’t have to keep her in charge. If he hated everything she was trying to do, why not hire someone who would hang on his every word and do things exactly as he wanted? He could also change his will, if he hadn’t already.

“Just a reminder of why starting my own label was the right thing to do,” she told herself as she scrambled to her feet. “It doesn’t matter what he does. I’ll have my own winery to worry about.”

But the words didn’t offer as much comfort as she would have liked. Nothing in her world was the way she thought it would be. Not her past and certainly not her future.

“Final figures,” Nic said when he entered Maggie’s office and slapped the folder on her desk. “Read them in awe.”

She raised her eyebrows, then flipped through the pages. “As long as you’re not letting success go to your head.”

“Would I do that?”

“Answering that the way I want to would be unprofessional.” She closed the folder. “I’ll work up a projection based on these numbers. You’ll have it in the morning.”

“Great.” He sat down in the chair in front of her desk. “What about the numbers for Marcelli Wines?”

She flipped through a stack of papers by her computer and handed him several sheets. He read the estimations for gross sales, broken down by region.

“That’s as good as we can do without looking at their books,” Maggie told him. “I had the sales guys nosing around, but they can only find out so much.”

“This is good,” he said.

The sales projections were even better than he’d thought. There was plenty of profit to be had. Once he’d modernized everything and streamlined operations he would-

He glanced up and saw Maggie watching him. “What?”

She shrugged.

“You still disapprove of what I’m doing,” he said.

“That’s too strong a word. I don’t like it, but liking it isn’t part of my job. I keep thinking about that loan to Brenna Marcelli. What are you going to do with her? Destroy her?”

“That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?”

Maggie shook her head. “Gee, Nic, you’ve loaned her a million dollars and given her the chance to start her own winery. She’s moving ahead with the belief that all her dreams are about to come true. Yet at any moment you could call the loan and pull the rug out from under her. I’m guessing when that happens she’s going to be a little broken up. What would you call it, if not destroyed?”

“Interesting question.”

“Do you have an answer?”

“Not yet.”

The callable note gave him options. Now that he’d seen Brenna in action, he knew that given time, she could make a go of Four Sisters Winery. Maybe he would sit back and collect interest like one of the good guys. Maybe not. The only thing he knew for sure was that seducing her hadn’t been part of his plan, but since that damn kiss he hadn’t been able to think of anything else. Maybe it was time for a different plan.

“You’re looking very predatory,” Maggie said. “I don’t want to know what you’re thinking.”

He grinned. “You’re right.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Maybe I’ll go meet Brenna Marcelli and see for myself what she’s like. If I hate her, I won’t feel so guilty about being a part of all this.”

“You haven’t done anything but your job. You have no guilt in this.”

“Easy for you to say.”

He knew he couldn’t talk Maggie out of her feelings. She’d always been a soft touch. “Suit yourself.”

“Aren’t you going to warn me not to say anything about the secret plot to purchase her family’s winery?”

Nic stood. “No. You work for me. You’d never be indiscreet. That would mean breaking the rules. Something you don’t do.”

“You do it all the time.”

“I know. That’s why I always win.”

“In the past you’ve won without breaking the rules. Something tells me that this time is different. Be careful, Nic.”

“Always,” he promised as they walked to the door.

They both knew he was lying, but Maggie wouldn’t say anything. Had Brenna been privy to the conversation, she would have called him on it in a heartbeat. Of course if she knew about his plans for Marcelli Wines, she would have his head mounted on the fence dividing their property.

Not something he wanted to think about. He would be fine just as long as Brenna didn’t find out the truth until it was too late to stop him.

It had been a good night’s work, Brenna thought sometime after midnight as she watched the last of the grapes move from the crusher to the presser. Her second load of Chardonnay grapes had arrived on time. The quality had been everything she’d hoped for-each bunch had been ripe and bursting with flavor and juice. She’d managed to put her latest fight with her grandfather behind her. She refused to think about him or her brother showing up and claiming everything. Even better, she was only thinking of Nic every forty-eight seconds, a marked improvement from earlier in the week. In a day or two she might work up to ten whole Nic-free minutes at a time.

It was that damn kiss, she acknowledged. He was too sexy by half. If that hadn’t happened, she might have been able to convince herself that whatever she remembered from the past was simply time rewriting history. She could have convinced herself that no one was that good. Unfortunately reality had been better than her memories. She’d gone from zero to take-me-now in less than five seconds. Just her luck-she was hotter than a Ferrari.

“So I’ll get over it,” she told herself, stepping back from the presser.

She would have to. She and Nic were all about the past and that was a place neither of them was likely to want to go. Her life was here in the present.

She crossed to the open doors and breathed in the cool air. She could hear crickets and other night creatures. The sky was clear and it seemed as if she could almost reach up and grab a star or two. Would it grant her a wish if she promised to set it free? What would she wish for?

Brenna returned to her equipment. Not success, that was too easy. Not love. She might be alone right now, but she wasn’t lonely. Peace, she thought. Or maybe contentment.

Before she could decide, she heard a fast, clicking sound, followed by a yip and a slide. She glanced at the open door and saw Max slipping around the corner before loping into the big room. He looked around, saw her, and barked with delight.

Brenna barely had time to brace herself for the fact that where Max was, Nic was soon to follow, when the puppy plowed into her. She laughed and bent down to gather him into her arms. He wiggled and licked at her face, his whole body vibrating as his tail wagged so hard it went in circles.

“Hey, good-looking,” she said, holding the puppy close.

“How are you?”

“Not bad.”

She had to swallow before looking up to watch Nic enter. She hadn’t seen him in a few days, and she hated that she’d actually missed him. He wore his usual uniform of jeans and T-shirt, which managed to emphasize his broad shoulders and long legs. Every cell in her body went on alert, while a small biplane flew through her brain, dragging a banner behind that read “I want some more of that.”

Honest to Pete, she really had to get a grip.

“Actually I wasn’t talking to you,” she said. “Max and I were having a moment.”

“That dog has quite the life.”

She set the puppy on the ground. When Max went off to investigate exciting smells, Brenna tried to keep her attention off of Nic’s mouth. Was it her imagination or could she actually see the sparks arcing between them?

“So how’s it going?” he asked, moving closer to the presser.

“Good.” She couldn’t help grinning. “Okay, it’s going great.”

“Modest as ever.”

She nodded.

“This is the fourth night you’ve worked late. Have you been getting any sleep at all?”

He’d noticed how many nights she’d been here? She told herself not to read anything into the comment. Nor would she allow herself to think about how he’d circled around the equipment to stand fairly close to her. The sparks continued to arc, but she was determined to ignore them, too. If Nic was going to pretend nothing had happened, she could pretend five times better.

“I’m getting by on an hour or two. This is my last batch of Chardonnay. Then I get a break until the Pinot comes in, then the Cabernet.”

Max trotted by, heading for a dark and puppy-appealing corner. “He’s up late,” she said.

“I was doing some paperwork. I like to walk him before I head up to bed.”

Ah, the b word. It took her a second to clear her brain of the erotic images that had instantly popped up. She and Nic had mostly made love in nontraditional places, but they’d done it in bed just enough for her memory to provide the appropriate erotic slide show.

“You thought I’d be a lousy dog owner,” he said. “You were wrong.”

“I never thought that.”

“Liar.”

She couldn’t help chuckling. “Okay, maybe I was a little concerned that you weren’t ready for the responsibility.”

“Is this where I remind you I run Wild Sea?”

“Business and puppies are very different.”

“Tell me about it. The business has never chewed my shoes.”

He was smiling at her. Despite the attraction and the yet-to-be-discussed kiss, she felt some of her tension ease. Why was it that being around Nic always felt so right?

On second thought, she didn’t want an answer to that.

He jerked his head toward the vat. The first of the juice spilled into the big stainless-steel container. “May I?”

She nodded. He collected a plastic cup from the bag she’d left on the floor and held it under the stream. To the untrained palate, the liquid would be little more than intense grape juice, but Nic would taste the subtleties and the possibilities.

He sipped, frowned, and sipped again. Then he looked at her and swore. “What did you do?”

“The grapes are from three different vineyards. Instead of getting one delivery from each location, I arranged for five smaller deliveries. I’ve coordinated so I get grapes from all three locations on the same day. It cost a little more, but I’ve been able to blend from the crushing stage instead of later in the process. The different grapes are already working on each other. Isn’t it the best?”

He took another sip. “How did you pick the grapes?”

She explained how she’d spent a lot of the past couple of months driving around the valley, figuring out what vineyards got what kind of sun.

“I might have snuck on and tasted a grape or two over the past month,” she admitted. “Then I placed my order. My quantities were small enough that even people who don’t usually sell were willing to give me a ton or two. Including one of your foremen.”

His dark eyes narrowed. “You’re using Wild Sea grapes?”

“Just a few of your best.”

“Well, hell.”

She tried not to feel smug, but it was difficult. “You have all the raw material, Nic. You need to use it better.”

“Thanks. Want a job?”

“I already have one, but if things change, I’ll let you know.”

She knew he wasn’t seriously offering her employment, but it was nice to know she’d impressed him.

“You think you’re hot shit,” he complained. “This is like the time you lectured me on the quality of the oak we were using for our wines. You were what, sixteen?”

“Probably. You can’t go cheap if you’re going to ferment in wood. It would be better to go straight to stainless.”

He finished the juice and tossed the cup in the trash. “You’ll be happy to know I listened. Thanks to you I made a lot of changes here at Wild Sea.”

She appreciated knowing that. “If only I could say the same thing about my grandfather.”

Nic crossed to one of the chairs and pulled it out. Brenna sat down and he settled across from her.

“Is Lorenzo still making things difficult?”

“Difficult being an understatement. We’re arguing about everything. First he complains that the labels are too old-fashioned. We need something new. I happen to agree with him-in fact, I’ve been bugging him about it for a while. So I get new labels designed. Suddenly he says there’s nothing wrong with the old labels, we shouldn’t change anything, yada, yada.”

“Did he forget? Is this an age thing?”

“No. It’s a make-Brenna-crazy thing. He’s always been a curmudgeon, but it’s worse than it’s ever been. He’s on my case about everything. Now he’s talking about my brother. ‘Joe would listen to me about the old ways,’” she said, lowering her voice to sound more like Lorenzo’s. “I always knew having a brother show up didn’t help my case, but I guess…”

She swallowed and looked at him. “Joe inheriting is more real to me now. I don’t like it.”

Nic’s expression tightened. “At least if he inherits, it will stay in the family. It beats Lorenzo selling.”

“Not by much. I can’t believe he would leave everything to a virtual stranger. That would kill me. I would almost rather he sold.” She tried to smile. “I guess you would, too. That way I would inherit cash instead of a piece of the winery and I could pay you off.”

“I’m not worried about that.”

Must be nice not to worry about a million dollars, she thought wistfully. She suddenly had a thought.

“You could afford to buy Marcelli.”

Nic raised his eyebrows. “Was that an invitation?”

“No. My grandfather would never sell to you.” She shook her head. “Crazy. I know you wouldn’t try to buy Marcelli, but who else would? Never mind. I don’t want to think about it. Everything is so complicated.”

“Hang tough,” Nic told her. “It will get better. You’ve always been important to your grandfather. He’ll come around.”

Brenna stiffened and leaned back in her chair, instantly wary. Her family wasn’t exactly a safe topic of conversation.

Nic held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I meant that in a good way. You two used to argue, but in a lot of ways you’re the granddaughter closest to him.”

She nodded. “I guess I still am. I know some of the problem is that I moved away.” She hesitated, not wanting to start down that path, either. For people who hadn’t seen each other in years, she and Nic sure had a lot of things they couldn’t talk about.

“Was your grandfather angry about the divorce?”

Brenna didn’t know what to say. Talking about her marriage to Jeff-even the dissolution of the marriage-felt very twisted.

Nic shrugged. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t mind.” She didn’t. Not exactly. “My grandfather was pretty cool about the whole thing. The whole family was. Everyone claimed to adore Jeff right up until he asked for a divorce, then suddenly they all claimed to have hated him from the beginning. I know they were rewriting history to make me feel better, but I didn’t care. Besides, it worked.”

“A good Italian family like yours. I’m surprised no one offered to take him out.”

She laughed. “I never thought of that. You’re right. They should have.”

The night seemed very quiet now. Brenna wasn’t sure why Nic had shown up tonight or why they were talking about her divorce, but she didn’t want to break the spell by asking. Sitting here like this felt really good. Awareness kept her blood zipping through her body in a way that made her feel alive and breathless. While a foolish part of her wanted a repeat of the kiss they’d shared before, the sensible side was grateful for something as uncomplicated as conversation.

“How do you do feel about your ex now?” he asked.

She shifted in her chair, slightly less grateful for uncomplicated conversation. He wanted to talk about Jeff? What did that mean?

“I’m not sure how to answer the question,” she admitted.

“Are you still mad?”

“No. I was angry and bitter for a while, but that got old. I still resent that I worked my butt off at jobs I hated to put him through medical school. I paid the bills for him to become a doctor and then he left. It’s never fun being a cliché.”

Nic stared at her. Something flickered in his dark eyes, but she didn’t know what he was thinking.

“He’s not rich?”

The question hit her like a slap. Logically she knew she shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was. After all this time did he really think she’d done what she’d done for money?

“Jeff was dirt poor. I never married him for his fortune.”

She waited for Nic to ask why she had married him, but he didn’t.

“Was there someone else?” he asked instead.

“For him, yes. In fact he’s marrying her as soon as our divorce is final.”

“Are you okay with that?’

“I’m no longer fantasizing about him contracting a disease that makes his privates fall off, which I think makes me a broad-minded and mature individual. It’s not exactly the same as wishing him well. Most of the time I don’t think about him. I regret marrying him, but I can’t change the past.”

“Divorce can be a bitch.”

Not the reaction she’d been hoping for. She’d thought maybe Nic would express his feelings about the past…namely theirs. Eventually they were going to have to talk about what happened. Just not tonight. She was dealing with too much already.

“You never married,” she said, then realized how he could take the question and hoped he wouldn’t.

Nic raised his eyebrows. “You’re right. I didn’t.”

She wanted to explain that she hadn’t meant to imply anything by her question. It wasn’t as if his decision not to marry had anything to do with her. Although now that they were talking about the subject, she really wanted to know why he hadn’t picked up a wife somewhere along the way. It couldn’t have been due to lack of female interest.

But she wasn’t brave enough to ask and he didn’t offer. Instead he sat there looking both relaxed and dangerous, which was quite the trick.

The tension returned. She fought against the urge to throw herself at him, and he…well, she didn’t know what he was thinking.

Obviously not about their kiss, she realized when he looked at his watch and said he had to be getting back.

“Max needs his beauty sleep,” he told her as he stood.

She rose and looked around for the puppy. Max had curled up on her jacket in the corner. Nic walked over and scooped him up. Max barely stirred.

“Good luck with that,” Nic said, jerking his head toward the vat. “Don’t forget you promised me a couple of cases.”

“I believe it was just one case, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Night.”

She watched as he headed for the door.

Nic was that irresistible combination of dangerous and sexy. The sleeping puppy in his arms only added to his charms. Sexual predator and nice guy. Women had sold their souls for a whole lot less.

Brenna liked to think that she was smart enough to have learned from her past mistakes. Falling for Nic all those years ago had only complicated her life. Falling for him now would mean she hadn’t learned anything. The problems they’d had before still existed, along with a couple dozen more. Nope, the best course of action was a business-only relationship. Nothing personal, nothing intimate. Nothing stupid.

Unfortunately, where Nic was concerned, she’d never once done the right thing.

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