She turned and faced him. He’d taken control, directed the meeting, in fact had decided the outcome. Everyone had listened to him and deferred to him. And he was making sure she was okay with it.
Tears prickled the corners of her eyes. Oh dear God, what was that about? She should be pissed at him!
He was doing exactly what she didn’t want him to do. He was taking over. She’d wanted to show him she was the one in control, but she couldn’t deny he’d made her see both sides of the issue and—dammit—he was right. For the sake of the business, she couldn’t argue with him. She should have been pissed—but she wasn’t. She felt relieved—relieved that she had someone to share this problem with, that it hadn’t all fallen on her shoulders, and touched that he’d asked if she was okay with it.
“I could have handled that,” she said.
Joe’s dark eyebrows drew together. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “Of course you could have.”
She smiled at him and his face cleared.
“Thank you,” she said, and somehow she was in his arms and he was kissing the breath right out of her. His hands roamed her body, spreading fire over her. When he started lifting her skirt, she pulled away from him with a gasp.
“Joe. Not here.”
He gave her a wicked grin. “Why not?”
“Someone could come in…” He kissed the side of her neck. “Grandpa…Paige…stop.”
And at that moment a knock on the door had them leaping apart.
Her grandfather walked in with their visitors from Italy and his colleagues from the California Olive Oil Producers. Tara put a shaky hand to her hair. She’d met Ben Kibsey and Bob Moir before. They both grew olives up in Napa. They introduced her to Mario Deluca and Salvatore Alzieti from Italy.
Tara introduced them to Joe, a little flustered at being interrupted in the middle of a hot make-out session in her office. She smiled at their visitors. “Can I get anyone coffee?”
They declined the offer, as they were on their way back to their hotel.
“Your ranch is charming,” Salvatore said with a heavy accent. “Small, but charming.”
She smiled. “Yes, I’m sure it’s small compared to yours. How many acres do you have?”
They chatted until Paige announced that the limo was there to take them to the Biltmore, and Joe offered to show them out.
“So,” Tyrone said when he and Tara were alone, “how are things going with you and Joe?”
She turned to look at him. Did he know something was going on between them? Heat swept over her as she studied his bland expression.
“Things are going okay,” she admitted reluctantly. No way in hell was she going to admit she actually liked having Joe around. “But I still don’t get it, Grandpa. Why on earth would you rather have a stranger coming in and running the family business than me? I’ve been doing a good job.”
“You’re a woman.”
At one time that comment would have made her scream. Now she just sighed. He really needed to get with the times.
“You should be finding a husband. Having babies,” he said. “Now that Joe is here you should have more time for fun. Like the dinner tonight. Please don’t talk business the entire evening. Ben and Bob are bringing their wives.”
Great. She was expected to entertain the little ladies. Exactly the kind of evening she detested. Thank God Joe would be there.
She froze as she realized where her mind had just gone. She pressed a hand to her stomach. She did not need him.
Later, at home, she poured herself a glass of wine and filled a small crystal bowl with some spiced olives, then carried them up to her room to nibble on while she got ready for dinner.
It felt like an important event, but it was only a dinner for a few visitors she would never see again. So why was she taking so much trouble with her appearance? She didn’t even need to go down that path. She knew exactly why. Once again, she wanted to impress Joe.
He was intruding in her business, taking over things she should be doing, making her work on stupid damn business cases for things she knew instinctively were the right things to do. And yet, she couldn’t quite work up the anger she had when he’d first arrived.
She took a final look at herself in the full-length mirror in her room. The dress wasn’t new, but it flattered her shape, a black designer dress that wrapped around her body in intricate layers, low cut in front and in back. It hugged her curves right down to her knees, the skirt so narrow she had to walk in uncharacteristically small steps. Daringly, she wore the spiky black patent pumps she usually reserved for parties at Le Château, along with her usual diamond studs in her ears and a diamond hanging on a gold wire around her neck. She’d put her hair up in a loose chignon, something she didn’t often bother with, her long bangs hanging in a sweep over her eyes.
“Why are you even coming tonight?” she asked Sasha as she descended the wide stairs to the foyer of the house and found her sister waiting. Sasha’s sequined red dress glittered under the lights of the Chihuly chandelier in the foyer. Her long blonde hair, that paler shade of blonde than Tara’s own, hung in a perfect straight curtain and her glossy red lips matched her dress.
“It’s dinner at Insatiable.” Sasha gave her a cheeky grin. “Who could say no to that?”
“It’s a business dinner,” Tara reminded her. “Remember? Olives are boring?”
“I know, but you can’t talk business all night.”
Tara sighed, recognizing her own contrariness. She didn’t want to play hostess for their guests, but she didn’t want Sasha there either. What was wrong with her?
They drove from their home in Hope Ranch to the restaurant near Stearns Wharf and then pulled up in front. Tiny white lights glimmered in the topiaries flanking the doors. They entered the restaurant and an attractive redhead in a strapless, form-fitting black dress greeted them with a beaming smile. She led them through the restaurant to the back.
A half-wall decorated with stunning sculptures and plants separated the back area from the rest of the dining room, the subtle lighting delineating the separate area. The long table set for twelve gleamed with silver and crystal, and small fresh flower arrangements of white orchids and olive branches lined the middle of the table. Jazzy piano music played softly in the background.
“Can I get you a drink while you wait for the rest of your party?” offered a waiter, young and gorgeous like everyone else who worked there.
“I’ll have a martini,” Sasha said immediately.
Tyrone gave her a look, then ordered a glass of Scotch, and Tara requested a glass of Sauvignon Blanc.
“We have several available by the glass,” the young man said. “Would you like to see the wine list?”
She shook her head. “The Honey Estates Sauvignon Blanc, please,” she requested, naming a local winery. He nodded approvingly.
“I’ll be right back.” He flashed a brilliant white smile and left.
“This is beautiful,” Tara said. “I haven’t been here for a while.”
Their Italian guests and the two olive growers from Napa, along with their wives, arrived. They exchanged greetings and ordered drinks, and then the last to join them arrived, Joe and another man.
Joe wore another expensive-looking suit Tara was pretty sure was Armani. God, the man could fill out a suit. His dark hair was combed back off his face, but she knew that wayward lock would soon be hanging over his forehead.
And who was that with him? He was about the same height as Joe, not quite as broad through the shoulders. His dark hair was cut very close to his nicely shaped head and he also wore an expensive looking suit.
Tara heard Sasha’s gasp behind her. Sasha’s long nails dug into her arm.
“What is he doing here?” she hissed into Tara’s ear. Startled, Tara looked down at her sister.
“Grandpa invited him,” she said calmly. “Wouldn’t you expect him to come tonight?”
Then she realized Sasha wasn’t looking at Joe—she was looking at his friend.
Joe entered the restaurant and looked around. He was no stranger to restaurants, having practically grown up in one, and the elegance of this one impressed him. The buzz in the room indicated it was the place to be and he could see every table was full, except one quickly and discreetly being cleared and set. The hostess showed them through to the back area where the Santa Ynez group had been set up.
As he walked around the half-wall, his eyes immediately went to Tara and his breath caught. It was a side to her he hadn’t seen—different from the professional businesswoman in a suit or the Dominatrix wannabe at Le Château. Tonight her hair was in a sophisticated up-do and her elegant dress outlined her sexy shape. The V in the back showed off the curve of her spine, and when she turned, the similar V in front revealed a hint of rounded, gleaming cleavage. She was wearing those do-me shoes, though, and he had to swallow hard to get control of his hardening body.
Her sister stood by her side in a sparkly red dress, her hair pale blonde, her skin tanned, the nails on the hand clutching her martini glass long and manicured. Her full lips, so much like Tara’s, were red and shiny and she wore a lot more makeup than Tara did. They did look alike, but Sasha’s vivid sexiness did nothing for him. It was Tara’s understated beauty that drew his eyes back.
He shot Nick a glance as he moved forward to greet Tara and her sister. Nick’s black frown was not a good thing. Then he remembered—Nick and Sasha. Hey, Joe had had no idea Sasha would be joining them.
“Tara,” Joe murmured as they drew closer. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she said. “You remember my sister, Sasha.” Sasha was staring at Nick with an expression as happy as his. A thick tension enveloped the four of them.
“Um…and this is my friend, Nick Findlay,” Joe said. “Nick, this is Tara Lockhart. Your grandfather told me to invite him along,” he explained to Tara. Then for Nick’s benefit, he added, “I didn’t know you were coming tonight, Sasha.”
Sasha didn’t even glance at Joe, her eyes fastened on Nick. “Isn’t that funny?” she gave a quavery little laugh. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Nick.”
Nick’s mouth formed a grim line.
Joe looked back and forth between Nick and Sasha, then his eyes met Tara’s, questioningly. She gave a minute lift of one shoulder.
“Sasha, tell us about the ball you’re organizing for the Youth Action Center,” Tara said smoothly. Apparently she did have some social skills when she chose to use them. Huh. She sipped her glass of wine and smiled at her sister and Nick with slightly raised brows. “When is the gala this year?”
When Sasha didn’t immediately respond, Nick said, “September fifteenth. Plans are well under way.”
A waiter arrived to take drink orders, interrupting for a moment.
“The gala is our biggest fundraising event,” Nick continued. “Our corporate sponsors, like Santa Ynez Olives, have been very generous in past years.”
Tara smiled. “It’s important to be good corporate citizens. And we enjoy giving back to the community where we do business.”
Joe wanted to shake his head. Where had this smooth-talking hostess come from?
Nick smiled and nodded, although the smile didn’t reach his eyes, and Sasha scowled.
Tyrone joined them at that moment. Joe introduced him to Nick. “We haven’t met.” Tyrone shook his hand firmly. “I was on the board at the Action Center for many years, but that was before your time.”
Nick nodded, smiling faintly. “I’ve certainly heard about all your contributions. We were just talking about how generous your company has been to our organization.”
“Of course, of course. And Sasha’s doing some fundraising work for you, I understand.”
“Uh…yeah.” Again Nick’s eyes connected with Sasha’s, then slid away.
What was going on between them? Nick had denied any interest in her because she reminded him of his ex-wife, but clearly there was something there.
“Was it you who gave Joe the black eye?” Tara asked with a smile, deftly changing the subject.
Nick laughed. “Yeah, that would be me.”
“Nice job,” Tara said, her eyes flashing to Joe.
Nick burst out laughing. “Thanks.” He too looked at Joe, smiling wryly.
“Well,” Tara said. “Why don’t we take our seats?”
She spoke to their other guests and soon everyone was seated at the long table. Joe found himself sitting directly across from Tara. Ben Kibsey, whom he’d met that morning out at the ranch, sat on his left and he resumed the interesting conversation they’d begun that morning about irrigation and a recycled water project going on in Sonoma. But the entire time he was acutely aware of Tara sitting across the table from him. He could feel her eyes on his even as she held a conversation with Bob Moir on her right. If he stretched his leg out, he could find her foot under the table.
“Water’s scarce as you move from the valley floors to the hillsides,” Ben said. “A non-irrigated operation can only produce about a half to a third of the yield of an irrigated operation.”
Joe nodded. “Water’s a big issue, isn’t it?”
He sensed Tara watching him and looked across at her. She held his gaze and lifted her wineglass to her shiny mouth. Joe’s own mouth watered just looking at her and his cock grew painfully hard. His gaze moved down to the enticing cleavage revealed by the dress, the sides of her round breasts visible. Damn. His body tightened even more. Luckily he was seated and a long table cloth and serviette in his lap provided some disguise.
He glanced at Sasha sitting beside Tara and noticed she had just finished her second martini. That one had lasted only minutes and she lifted a hand. With only a small gesture she caught the waiter’s eye and he nodded his understanding. The impeccable service also impressed Joe.
When he opened the menu he saw their dinner was already planned. The chef’s tasting menu was written in a fancy script along with a different wine pairing for each course.
“Chef Gregg has prepared a special menu for us tonight,” Tara told the group. “He’s going to come out and talk to us about it a bit later.”
Everyone nodded and studied the menu. Joe shrugged and closed his menu, then picked up his beer. He turned to Nick on his right.
“What’s with you and the princess?” he asked quietly, barely moving his lips. Nick nodded, smiling.
“Christ,” he muttered through the fake smile. “I can’t believe this.”
“What’s the problem?”
Nick glanced at him, rolling his eyes ever so slightly. “I told her not to come to the center anymore.”
Joe cursed under his breath.
“Nick, what’s the theme for this year’s gala?” Tara asked.
“Uh…”
“The theme this year is ‘Starry Nights’,” Sasha said. Then she stood. “I need to use the ladies’ room. Tara?”
Tara shook her head, then, catching Sasha’s pointed glance, she too stood, picking up her little evening bag.
“I’ll come with you,” she said dryly. Joe and Nick shared a glance.
“Man, this is awkward.” Nick rubbed his face after the two women had left the table.
“I told you to be nice to her!”
“What could I do? I had to stop her from coming!”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. Shit.”
“This is so awkward!” Sasha cried once inside the ladies’ room.
Tara turned and faced her, leaning against the polished granite counter. “What’s so awkward about it? You’re usually good at this kind of social stuff.”
“Nick! Why is he here?”
“Apparently Grandpa told Joe to invite him.”
“How the hell does he know him?” Sasha cried.
“They’re friends. That’s who Joe is staying with until he gets his own place.”
“Oh Jesus.” Sasha shook her head.
“What’s going on?”
“I….I asked him out the other day.”
Tara lifted a brow.
“And he said no.” She hitched a shoulder. “But I really like him. So I…I started hanging around at the center. Doing stuff with the kids. And he…” She looked down. “He told me to stay away.”
“What! Really?”
“Yes.” She sucked in her bottom lip. “So it’s kind of humiliating to see him again.”
“But you have to work with him on the committee.”
“Yeah. Oh God.”
Tara rubbed her nose. “Well, you’re just going to have to make the best of it. We can’t exactly get rid of him.”
Sasha sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She dragged her fingers through her long straight hair to smooth it, took her shiny red lip gloss out of her purse and touched up her lips. “I need another drink.”
“You’re downing those martinis pretty fast. Maybe you should take it easy.”
One corner of Sasha’s mouth deepened. “Who cares?”
And she turned and left.
Oh God.
Tara’s heart ached for Sasha. She was a spoiled princess, but she had a good heart and she was obviously hurting. Her feelings for Nick couldn’t be all that serious—could they?—but rejection always hurt.
Tara followed her sister out of the stylish restroom, down the dimly lit hall and back into the restaurant. She took her seat at the table, flashing a smile at their guests. Joe was watching her. He’d been watching her all night and her nipples tingled and tightened beneath the silky fabric of her dress. She shivered a little and looked across the table to find his eyes on her. Again.
He was looking at her with such focused intensity she wanted to squirm in her seat. Then she noticed his eyes moving down to her chest. Her breath caught in her throat and she went lightheaded. To her horror, she had an urge to reach her hands up to the wide straps of her dress at her shoulders and slowly tug them down her arms, baring her breasts to his gaze.
Oh. My. God. She picked up her glass and took a big gulp of wine, almost choking on it. Joe’s lips quirked.
Her frown deepened. Damn him. He’d sent her some kind of telepathic dominating command and now he was laughing at her.
A tall, stunningly handsome man dressed in black pants and chef’s whites that fit his broad shoulders to perfection entered their area of the restaurant.
Tara smiled. You couldn’t help but smile at Tyler Gregg, he was so incredibly handsome and sexy. His spiky dark hair was tousled as usual, his sexy eyes gleamed devilishly. When he’d gotten married a couple of years ago, every girl in Santa Barbara—no, make that every girl in California and probably half the girls in America—had been bitterly disappointed. He’d had quite a reputation as a ladies’ man, dating one gorgeous supermodel or actress after another before falling in love with his business manager. Now they had a new baby.
Tara stood to greet Tyler and he hugged her and kissed her cheek.
“So you have something special planned for us tonight?” Tara asked him, leaning back in his arms to smile at him.
He grinned. “Of course.”
“Let me introduce you,” Tara said. She went around the table, her arm linked with Tyler’s, and Tyler shook hands with everyone. Joe’s greeting was curt when it was his turn to be introduced.
“To start this evening, I have an olive spread made with Sevallano olives and fresh California walnuts,” Tyler began. “It’s served on lightly toasted baguette slices that have been brushed with olive oil.”
Tara caught Joe’s eye and he smiled at her. She couldn’t help but smile back.
“The salad will be a simple salad of mixed field greens dressed with a sherry wine vinegar and olive oil vinaigrette,” Tyler continued. “The main course this evening is leg of lamb roasted with green olives, lemons and garlic. It’s served with potatoes and pan gravy. Dessert is a cake made with olive oil and champagne grapes.”
“What kind of olives are with the lamb?” Joe inquired. Tara shot him an amused glance, which he caught. He just grinned.
Tyler flashed his white teeth too. “They’re Arbequina olives,” he replied easily. “Good question.”
“Sounds incredible, Tyler,” Tara said. “Thank you so much.”
“And naturally, each course is paired with a wine that will enhance the experience,” he added. “I’d better get back to the kitchen. It was a pleasure meeting you all.”
“He is so gorgeous,” Sasha sighed when he’d left. Joe and Nick glanced at each other and Tara could see them resisting the eye roll. She smiled.
“Yes, he is,” she said. “He’s also happily married and a new father.”
Tara chatted with the two wives about their day and suggested some shops for them to visit the next day before heading north again, feeling Joe’s warm eyes and smile on her. Even though they were having separate conversations, she felt as if they were together.
Soon their starter was served, crispy, chewy baguette spread with the olive and walnut combination, a tangy hint of Dijon mustard and fresh herbs…thyme, oregano and…was that sage? Delicious. It was accompanied by a nice local Zinfandel.
Tyler Gregg tried to use local ingredients and wines in his restaurant as much as possible, although he did import specialty items as well. At Santa Ynez Olives, they appreciated his business, as the restaurant used extensive quantities of a number of different olive oils and olives.
The salad was simple, as Tyler had said, but exquisite, with a fabulous Arbequina extra virgin oil.
“So, all these things are made with your oil and olives?” Joe asked Tara and she nodded. She shot him a look. Had he asked that just so she could show off for their guests? Gratitude warmed her inside.
“Yes,” she said. “Tyler is an amazing chef, so we’re very proud he chooses to use our oil and olives.”
She was proud of their company and she appreciated Joe helping show their visitors how successful they were. She eyed him across the table. He was talking again with Ben and Bob, knowledgeable yet unafraid to admit when he didn’t know something.
“I’ve been in this business all of four weeks now,” he said to them with a laugh. “All I know is how much I don’t know.”
They laughed too, but Tara knew Joe had already learned a lot about the olive business. So much, it was scary. And their guests were impressed too.
“We could use someone like you at our ranch,” Ben said. Joe laughed.
The main course, a fabulous creation of perfectly pink and succulent lamb enhanced by garlic and lemons and, of course, the olives was served at a leisurely pace.
“A pretty traditional combination,” Tara commented. “But Tyler does it so well.”
“Fresh herbs too,” Ben agreed. “Really nice.”
“Nice presentation,” Joe added. Lemon halves and olive branches garnished the dish. “A few weeks ago I wouldn’t have even known what that is.” He smiled self-deprecatingly.
The local wine, a lovely Syrah, was another perfect complement.
Dessert arrived, a delicious, moist cake dotted with small champagne grapes, dusted with confectioner’s sugar and served with, of course, champagne, a dry sparkling white from another local vineyard.
“Made with olive oil too.” Joe asked of the cake.
She nodded. “Of course. Olive oil and butter, I believe.”
After dessert, Tara looked down the table to where her grandfather was rising from his seat. It sounded like he was leaving already. He walked around behind her chair and bent down to speak with her.
“Thank for you arranging all this, Tara. It’s been a good evening.”
Her chest tightened at his words of praise, faint as they were.
“You can take care of the bill?” he inquired quietly. “I need to go home now. It’s late.”
“It’s not that late,” she protested. “And how will I get home?”
He frowned, then looked across the table. “Joe, can you drive Tara home?”