by Lee McKenzie
Michael whistled softly when the little white dog disappeared beneath some shrubs. She reappeared and raced across the lawn, a flash of white hurtling in his direction. “Time to come in, you little rascal.”
Inside the house, she tore through the family room toward the kitchen, leaping and jumping around Lexi’s legs.
“Get down!” She finished stacking clean dinner plates on the counter and closed the dishwasher. “This dog has no manners at all.” But much as she tried to feign indifference toward Poppy, Michael had caught her sneaking tidbits of food off her plate and feeding them to the little dog that sat eagerly under her chair. He also knew she’d leave her bedroom door ajar when she went to bed, with the hope that Poppy might find her way in there.
Carefully hidden beneath Lexi’s tough, no-nonsense exterior was a soft heart and a generous spirit that few people ever got to see. She had always been the studious one in the family, bookish, really, with an artistic flair. While Ginny tended to be a little flamboyant at times, Lexi had a quieter, more casual elegance about her. Ginny was all laughter and warm hugs and put family first. Lexi was more reserved and 100 percent committed to her career. At thirty-one she was already one of San Francisco’s up-and-coming architects. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about the family, Poppy included. She just didn’t wear her heart on her sleeve.
“How about another glass of wine?” he asked. “Neither of us has to drive anywhere tonight.”
“You know what I’d really like?”
“Gee, let me guess.”
She grinned. “A beer.”
Three generations of Morgans in the wine-making business had not rubbed off on her. “Mom always keeps some in the fridge. Help yourself.”
He got her a glass from the cabinet on the other side of the kitchen and uncorked a bottle of the pinot noir they’d had with dinner—the new wine they were getting ready to release and the focus of Ginny’s latest marketing campaign. It was one of the finest he’d tasted in a good long while, and definitely Morgan Estate’s best pinot noir yet. Elegant, smooth and complex.
He and Lexi carried their drinks into the den. She curled up in one of the big leather armchairs and tucked her feet under her.
The room felt cool, so Michael flipped the switch to turn on the gas fireplace, then took the other chair and lifted his feet onto the ottoman. They held up their glasses and touched one to the other. “Cheers,” they said unison.
He held up his glass to the firelight and studied the contents. “What did you think of the new wine? You didn’t say anything about it during dinner.”
“I liked it. Aroma of black cherry and raspberry with a hint of floral. Soft tannins, balanced flavors of ripe cherries with a touch of spice. Medium finish with a subtle earthiness,” she said, carefully repeating everything he and Ginny had said as they’d introduced it to the family.
He laughed at that. “Good to know you were paying attention.”
“Seriously, I do like it. It’s a lot mellower than the merlot you released earlier this year.”
Her mention of that particular wine, which happened to be one of his all-time favorites, reminded him of Jess’s wine-tasting tutorial at the wedding reception. She probably would have preferred beer, too.
“What are you smiling about?” Lexi asked.
“Nothing,” he said quickly. He definitely wanted to talk to her about Jess, just not about last Saturday evening. “I was just thinking Mom threw a great party tonight.”
“She always does, and your gift was a big hit.”
“I knew it would be.” He had searched online and found a model of a 1954 Morgan like the one their father had bought but never got around to restoring—the car he and Ben were now working on. Ben loved that car, and he had proudly carried the model up to his bedroom tonight, declaring his intention to sleep with it. Changing his mind would require a great deal of patience and some creative alternative suggestions from their mother.
“How did Mom seem to you tonight?”
“Same as ever. Organized and totally in control. Formidable. Why?”
“When I got here this morning she looked kind of tired—worn-out, actually.”
“You worry too much. She seems fine to me.”
Lexi was probably right. Ginny had said much the same thing when he’d asked her, and she spent more time with their mother than either he or Lexi did, so he should trust her judgment. Especially since he had more pressing matters on his mind.
“So you had a chance to take a look at the building I saw this week. What did you think?” He’d been itching to ask since the moment she arrived, but their mother had one rule about discussing business during dinner. It was strictly forbidden. Dinnertime was family time, no exceptions.
“I spent a couple of hours there this afternoon and gave the place a pretty good going over.”
“And?”
“I have to tell you, Michael, it needs a lot of work. New wiring for sure, and the plumbing is way below standard. It might need a seismic upgrade, too, but that’s outside my area of expertise. We’ll have to bring in an engineer to be sure.”
If that was the case, he would have to seriously re-think the budget for this project. “Do you think it’s a good investment?”
“Right now? In that part of the city? Definitely. Of course, how good an investment will depend on how much money you’re prepared to put into it.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing.” He sipped his wine thoughtfully. He’d also been thinking that a building in better shape would be an even better investment.
“I have some ideas about how to maximize the main-floor space, and I’ll give some more thought to the offices on the second floor. If you still plan to lease that space upstairs, you can get away with something fairly generic. That’ll save you a few bucks.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing what you have in mind.” She had been right on the money with the first two wine bars, and he was confident she’d do the same with this location.
“I ran out of time this afternoon, so I’ll go back on Saturday and check out a few more things. After that, I’ll write up a preliminary report and get it to you by Monday, Tuesday at the latest. How does that sound?”
“Makes me glad you’re part of the family.” And he meant it. “While you’re at it, can I ask another favor?”
“Another favor? Gee, you’d almost think you’re the one who paid my college tuition and helped me set up a business.”
She always adopted that pseudosarcastic tone to cover up her gratitude, and as usual he wasn’t buying it. “Come on, Lex. I didn’t pay for it, the family did.” None of this was just about him, especially not the money.
“Yeah, yeah. So what’s the favor?”
“I’d like you to check out another building a couple of blocks away. Similar in size and age, I think, but in much better shape.”
“What’s the asking price? I can already tell you that if it’s in the same ballpark, you’d be way further ahead.”
“About that…there’s a bit of a hitch.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s technically not for sale.”
Her glass paused on its way to her mouth. “I see. That’s a bit of a hitch, all right. Is it vacant?”
“No. Right now it’s a grungy little bar called the Whiskey Sour.”
“Sounds like something out of the fifties. In a good way, I suppose.” She laughed, took a drink and set the glass on the small table between them.
“I gather it was a going concern in its heyday.”
“And now?”
He shrugged. “Not so much. Seems to be a hangout for some of the locals. Mechanics, warehouse workers.”
“A blue-collar joint isn’t your usual hangout. How did you happen upon the Whiskey Sour?”
He had nothing to hide. “I met the owner at a wedding.”
She was studying him like a textbook. “Who got married?”
“Remember the artist we commissioned to d
o the paintings for the wine bar at Fisherman’s Wharf? Her daughter got married and I got an invitation.”
Lexi’s scrutiny intensified. “And you went?”
Of course he’d gone. The bride’s mother was a well-known artist, her father was a bestselling author, the guest list was equally impressive, and that added up to a lot of potential business contacts. Instead of explaining that to Lexi, he decided to have some fun with her instead. “Why wouldn’t I go? Weddings are great places to meet women. Everyone knows that.”
She picked up her glass, took a mouthful and swallowed slowly without taking her eyes off him. “Interesting.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m not surprised you met a woman—they throw themselves at you all the time—but to have the good fortune to meet one who happens to own a bar that isn’t doing so well, in the area where you just happen to be in the market for a bar. Nice work.”
Jess had definitely not thrown herself at him. The opposite, in fact. But Lexi didn’t need to know it had taken all his powers of persuasion just to get her on the dance floor. “She was one of the bridesmaids and she didn’t have a date, so I asked her to dance.”
Lexi rolled her eyes.
“I was doing her a favor,” he said, knowing she wouldn’t take him seriously. “No one wants to see a beautiful woman turn into a wallflower.”
“And they say chivalry is dead. Shows you what they know.”
“Very funny. And for the record, finding out she owns a bar in that neighborhood was a complete coincidence. I swear.”
“Hey, I believe you. But even though it’s not for sale, you still want me to take a look at it? This makes me think that you, dear brother, are working on a plan to sweet-talk this beautiful woman into selling the place to you.”
“By the sound of things, I’ll be doing her a favor.” After seeing the place, he was sure of it. “She inherited it and I get the impression she doesn’t know much about running a business. We’re meeting next week to talk about it.”
Lexi uncurled her legs and stretched them toward the fire. “Mmm, nice. So, does the woman know it’s a meeting or does she think it’s a date?”
Few people could make him squirm the way Lexi could. “She knows I’m looking for a location for a wine bar. And if you must know, she said no to going to dinner with me until I told her it was just a business meeting.”
“She said no? To you? That’s interesting. What’s this woman’s name?”
“Jess Bennett. Why?”
“If I’m going to drop by and see her, I should know who to ask for.”
Okay, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. “I don’t want you to go in there and actually talk to her. Just have a look around and let me know what you think.”
She laughed. “Are you sure it’s just the building you’re after?”
Here we go, he thought. “Just the building. Is that so hard to believe?”
She gazed thoughtfully into the fire. “Coming from you? Mr. Emotionally Unavailable? I guess not. You always date fashionista divas like Vanessa, so the proprietor of a ‘grungy’ blue-collar bar doesn’t fit the mold.”
Ouch. Lexi’s assessment made him sound superficial, but he didn’t see it that way. He had a full life and a busy one, and dating women like Vanessa was easy and uncomplicated because there was no danger of forming any attachments. Along with being a gold digger, she was also a clotheshorse with very expensive tastes. The woman before her had a thing for flashy imports. God, how many times had she gushed about how much she wanted to slap a personalized plate on one? More times than he’d bothered to count. And before her? Ah, yes. The diamonds-are-a-girl’s-best-friend girl.
Lexi was right about one thing, though. He had a consistent track record. One mold, multiple casts. They were easy women to find, and when he asked them out they never said no. He knew better than to fall for them, and especially not to give them everything their little hearts desired. His first serious girlfriend had sweet-talked him into a Lexus and an engagement ring, which had still been on her finger the day she’d driven out of his life. The only thing she’d left behind was a maxed-out credit card.
Jess was uncomfortable in an evening gown, she wore old jeans and high-tops to work and if she’d been wearing any jewelry on either occasion, it hadn’t made an impression on him. If her taste in cars was anything like her taste in wine, she most likely drove an old clunker. She was unpretentious, feisty and far more beautiful than she knew. Based on his experience, one of a kind. After Jess, they’d broken the mold.
He looked away from the fire and met Lexi’s gaze. “When you go into the Whiskey Sour, you’ll be discreet? I’d really appreciate it if you don’t let on who you are or why you’re there.”
“No fear. They’ll call me Bond.” She struck a dramatic pose, head turned to one side and eyes narrowed. “James Bond.”
They both laughed. When he got too intense, he could always count on her to put things back in perspective. “On the plus side, you can order a beer while you’re there,” he quipped. “Who knows, you might even like the place.”
“Ha-ha.” She picked up her glass, angled it in his direction and then drained the last few mouthfuls. “I’m going to turn in. I have to be on the road by seven or I’ll be late getting to the office. What about you?”
“I have another meeting with Ginny in the morning. I’ll take Ben and Poppy for a walk so Mom can have a break, and then I’ll head back after lunch.”
“You’re a good son,” she said with a wink. “No wonder she likes you best.”
He laughed. Sophia Morgan didn’t play favorites and she never had, not even when Lexi’s hormonal teen years had made loving her a challenge. “Good night, Lex. If you see Mom upstairs, you can tell her I’ll lock up.”
“Will do.” Lexi stood and worked the kinks out of her legs. On her way out of the study she circled around the back of his chair and wound her arms around his neck. “Good night, big brother. See you in the morning.” She paused in the doorway. “Sorry for the ‘emotionally unavailable’ remark. You know I wasn’t serious.”
“Yes, you were.” And she was right. He was, but he didn’t see the need to apologize for it.
“Yeah, you’re right.”
After she left, Michael settled back in his chair and stared into the fire as he finished his wine. All day his thoughts had kept drifting to Jess. She captivated him. The women he usually went out with were at least as interested in his money as they were in him. What they didn’t understand was that it wasn’t his money—at least not most of it. It was his family’s money. His grandfather and then his father had devoted their lives and careers to creating Morgan Estate Winery. Building on that was as much an obligation as it was his legacy. He loved the business, and he especially loved the challenge of turning it into a diverse enterprise.
He wasn’t sure how Jess would react when she found out who he was, but he had a hunch she wouldn’t be any more impressed than if he really was on the hotel’s catering staff. Dinner with her was going to be interesting, as was discovering what it would take to convince her to sell the bar. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but he never backed away from a challenge.
LATE SATURDAY MORNING Jess unlocked the front door of the Whiskey Sour and punched in the code to deactivate the alarm. It was no longer being monitored—that was one of the bills she hadn’t been able to keep up with—but she and Eric, the part-time bartender, were the only people who knew. She tossed her department-store bag onto the bar and switched on the lights, then went into the kitchen and turned on the deep fryer so it would heat up by the time she opened.
Trying on clothes was one of her least favorite ways to spend a Saturday morning, but the shopping expedition had been less painful than expected. She and Paige both loved a good bargain, and her friend had flair without being flamboyant. Now Paige was stopping to buy coffee and muffins and bring them to the bar while Jess got ready to open for the day. She quickly put away the glas
sware she’d left in the dishwasher the night before, checked the keg room to make sure the lines were clear and primed, and inspected the two restrooms to make sure there were no surprises. Thankfully, there weren’t.
Paige came in juggling an umbrella and a paper bag. She set the bag on the bar and opened her umbrella. “I hope you don’t mind if I set this over here to dry. It’s really coming down out there.”
“No problem.” Jess locked the door and went back to the bar to inspect the contents of the paper bag. “What’d you bring?” Her stomach was rumbling and she couldn’t wait to find out what her friend had brought to eat.
“Two nonfat lattes and a couple of chocolate chip muffins.” Paige immediately looked guilty. “I should be watching my weight, but those muffins are too yummy to pass up.”
Jess took the two paper cups out of the bag and snapped the lid off one of them. “You do not need to watch your weight. You’re only a size twelve, and besides, Andy obviously likes you just the way you are.”
A delicate flush colored Paige’s flawless skin. “I’m not so sure about that…and I’m actually a size fourteen.”
“Fourteen, shmourteen. You are gorgeous and Andy is crazy about you.” She took a sip of coffee. “Mmm. I needed this. How much do I owe you?”
“My treat. You can get them next time.”
“Thanks.” She appreciated Paige’s generosity, especially since she’d just unloaded a sizable chunk of this month’s grocery money at Macy’s. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d given this much thought to what she was going to wear, or spent money that could have been put to better use. Her guilt was compounded by memories of her mother shopping for slinky clothes to wear when she went to the bar trolling for men. Damn it, this is not the same thing. You are not your mother, she told herself.