Amado strode along the road from the house, steam pouring off him. His gallop in the hills had done nothing to ease the tension creeping through his limbs. He’d showered and scrubbed and changed, trying to wash off any emotion that still lingered from last night along with the sticky-sweet smell of sex.
But already he craved Susannah again. Not just her lithe, sensuous body and long silky hair, but her warm curiosity, her thoughtful insight, even that damn wrinkle between her slim, arched brows.
Part of him wanted to send her packing with nothing. No deal, no wine, no contracts and no further connection between Tierra de Oro and Hardcastle Enterprises and its big-shot owner.
But another part of him wanted to hold her tight in his arms, kiss her until her lips flushed dark, make love to her until she cried out with the force of her release.
The second part was winning.
He shoved open the ten-foot-high oak door and marched into the winery building. The tasting room, where he expected Susannah to wait for him, was empty.
So was the barrel room. Several wines were being transferred from vats to new barrels today, but there was no sign of activity.
He walked toward the crushing room. The busiest part of the winery at harvest time, when it welcomed box after box of fresh hand-picked grapes. Right now, however, the big crushing machines were silent, waiting for the grapes to mature.
A burst of laughter drew him through the empty room and out into the blinding sunshine.
A group huddled around the upturned barrels where his employees gathered for breaks. In their midst sat Susannah, incongruously dressed in a pair of white overalls liberally stained with fresh red grape juice.
She stopped laughing when she saw him. “Hi, Amado. Sofia and Joaquín are showing me how to drink maté.”
Sofia passed Susannah the steaming gourd of brewed tea. Susannah lifted it to her mouth and took a sip through the bombilla.
He ignored the heat that crept through him as he watched her lips close delicately around the familiar metal straw.
She glanced up at him with those dark, yearning eyes. “Would you like some?”
He strode forward and snatched the gourd. Sipped, his mind distracted by the innocent pout of her lips.
The maté tasted mild. They must have poured several cups of hot water over the leaves by now. Not that he needed a jolt of energy. If anything, he had far too much.
He passed the gourd to Joaquín and frowned at Susannah’s getup.
“Tomás showed me how to clean the inside of a vat. I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t slow them down too much.”
Big, friendly Tomás laughed. “Slow us down? You should hire her full-time. She’s a pro.”
Amado nodded. The sight of Susannah in those white workers’ overalls was having a very disturbing effect on him. He wondered what she wore underneath. The red wine stains matched her mobile lips, and the dark spots of color high on her cheeks.
“Susannah and I have work to do,” he muttered.
He turned and strode back into the building, gratified to hear the sound of Susannah’s rubber boots squeaking after him.
How did she have such power over him? A tide of exasperation rose in his blood along with the throb of desire. He’d woken this morning in a lather of lust and contentment, wrapped like a swaddled babe in Susannah’s arms.
He could have stayed there all day, listening to her heartfelt opinions and basking in the glow of curiosity and enthusiasm that lit her eyes.
It took a tremendous amount of self-control to extricate himself, and even then he hadn’t dared to wake her in case those big, dark eyes flickering open undermined his last ounce of will.
He flung open the door to his office.
“I should probably change. I might get wine on something.”
“This is a winery. It won’t be a problem.” He tried not to look at the way the white cotton pulled tight over her slim thighs as she sat.
“I really enjoyed seeing how they move the wine from a vat to the barrels. Your staff are experts. And they love their work. Where do you find them?”
He rustled through some papers. “I offer internships to students of winemaking from various schools around the world. Some of them have turned into my best employees. And of course, hard-working local people are the backbone of our business.”
He glanced up. Susannah sat in her chair, glowing. Was she not even angry that he’d left her alone in the barn?
She didn’t seem at all put out. She looked quite at home in his winery, laughing and drinking maté with his workers like she’d been here for years.
He found he wanted a reaction from her. Any reaction.
“Do you interrupt the work at every winery you visit, or only when you’ve slept with the owner?”
Her mouth fell open. Then snapped shut. “I…they offered to let me help. If I did something wrong, I’m sorry. And they said they always drink maté in the afternoon. I’ve seen people drink it before, and always wanted to try it. There’s something about sharing the drink that makes it so different from the way we consume most things these days.”
He leaned back in his chair. “I’d imagine an American would think it unhygienic.”
She shrugged. “I think it’s beautiful.”
He ignored the sensation tightening his chest. What a load of sentimental rubbish. “You should advise Tarrant Hardcastle to open the world’s most exclusive maté café.”
She laughed. “That wouldn’t be the same at all.”
“Still, now that you’ve looked around, I imagine you have some ideas for how to improve our winery.”
He stared at her, challenging her to find fault with the business he’d nourished with his life’s blood.
She licked her lips, which sent an unfortunate flare of heat to his groin. “The operation itself is state of the art. Obviously, a lot of thought went into the layout and equipment, and the staff seem ideal.” She hesitated.
“But?” His voice emerged as a growl.
“I could make some suggestions to enhance your marketing. Improving the labeling and adding focus to the brand impression, if you’re interested.” She fiddled with a button on the front of her overalls—his overalls—looking nervous.
“Oh, I’m very interested.” He leaned back in his chair.
“Well, it’s just that the label doesn’t suggest a real identity for the vineyard, or for the wine.”
“It has our name on it.”
“Yes, but marketing wine today is a lot about image. One image says young, hip and fresh, and another says ancient and venerable.”
Amado drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “And what image springs to mind when you visualize Tierra de Oro?”
That wrinkle appeared between her brows. She tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling for a moment. Then, she lowered her head and leveled that steady brown gaze at him. “Simplicity.”
He scowled. “Simplicity? We may seem like simple nobodies to an office in New York, but I assure you that both our wines and our operations are highly complex.”
She leaned forward. “That’s not what I mean at all.” She picked up a bottle of 2006 Syrah that was sitting on the desk. “There’s magic here, in the light, in the mountains, in the fact that you’ve tended and cherished the same land for one hundred years. This rather busy label with a generic pattern of grape leaves doesn’t convey that.”
He tapped his fingernails together. Arched a brow. Tried to drag his focus from her closed mouth. “And what exactly do you suggest?”
“A lighter color, maybe unbleached paper, with a pale graphic image of the mountains, perhaps. Crisp writing.”
He could visualize it. Not bad.
“And your winery building is dramatic and beautiful.”
Amado crossed his arms over this chest, unable to resist a swell of pride. He’d designed the building himself, with the help of a close friend who’d studied architecture. “It was built using the ancient stonemasonry tech
niques of the Huarpe people.”
“So, it’s something unique and special to Tierra de Oro. It expresses the character of the vineyard and its wines. You could print an image of it along the bottom of the label.”
Amado frowned. “Hmm. I see your point.”
“And you could extend it to other items for guests at the vineyard. T-shirts, tote bags, perhaps even a simple wine rack and items of that nature.”
He snorted. “This is not a Disney World theme park. And we have T-shirts.”
Susannah winced slightly. “Those bright blue ones? They look like they’re advertising a local election.”
Irritation at the insult rose inside him, but he couldn’t help laughing. “Ignacio ran for local office a few years ago, and we did purchase a large batch of shirts and used them for both.”
Susannah’s sensual mouth tilted into a smile as she tried not to laugh. She leaned back and crossed her arms. “The vineyard deserves its own unique brand. You’ve gone far on the quality of your wines alone, but to penetrate markets in the U.S. it’ll help to have a more distinctive style.”
He hated to admit she was probably right. Decided not to. “Where are your clothes?”
“Back there, actually.” She tilted her head toward his office bathroom with its attached changing room. “I changed here. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not in the least. I only wish I was here to watch.” He waited for her reaction.
She gazed at him steadily. “Why did you leave me alone in the barn?”
“I had business to take care of.”
“One of your workers found me there.”
He sat upright as guilt snaked through him. “Who?”
“I don’t know. A kid in a blue winery T-shirt.” She shrugged. “I just thought I should warn you.”
Great. It was probably Rosa’s great-grandson Nahuel, whose lips flapped even more than hers.
But Susannah still didn’t look embarrassed. Those dark eyes were cool and appraising. Perhaps studying him for faults and areas for improvement, much as she’d examined his estate.
No doubt leaving her in the barn was one of those. He’d done it to regain control over his body and mind. “I have no interest in idle gossip, and I assume you don’t, either.”
Her long, dark hair was falling from a loose knot, tumbling around her high cheekbones to her slim shoulders, and he longed to push his fingers into its softness.
Control? Only so long as he wasn’t anywhere near her.
“I spoke to Clara.” She frowned and shoved a lock of hair behind her ear. “I tried to reassure her that nothing has truly changed. I think I succeeded. She loves Ignacio very much.”
Her audacity astonished him. Who was she to stick her finger into a bleeding wound? “You should stay out of our family business.”
“That’s what Ignacio said when I spoke to him.” She licked her lips, which sent heat spiking through his groin.
He cursed silently. “Stay away from him. You have no idea what you’re doing.”
Amado wasn’t sure he could ever forgive Ignacio for driving away the woman he loved. Feelings he’d kept locked away for a decade scratched at him now, raw and painful.
It was Susannah’s fault. Not only because she’d exploded a bomb in his family’s midst.
Worse, her warm caresses and heartfelt passion reached inside him to dig up the sharp, broken pieces of his heart.
She had awakened sensations and longings he’d forgotten. Jolted to life areas of his body and mind that he’d thought permanently shattered by a woman who’d said she loved him, but had left him anyway.
“Ignacio said I should leave immediately.”
His gut tightened. “Your boss wouldn’t like that.”
“No.” Her eyes searched his face. “And I wouldn’t, either. I want to bring your wines to the States. I’m sure they’ll acquire an excellent reception. Your prices could increase quite dramatically with some critical acclaim.”
Amado leaned back in his chair. Drew in a slow, silent breath. He couldn’t deny that the prospect appealed to him, partly because it would assert his independence from the man who lied to him for thirty years. Who’d distorted his life and driven Valentina out of it.
He refused to let Ignacio run Susannah off the estate. He wasn’t ready to lose her. Not yet. Not until he was finished with her.
It infuriated him that she seemed to think she could run his life. That she knew how to sell his wines better than he did. That she thought she could bring news that shattered his family, then glue them all back together and stick a pretty bow on top.
But she wasn’t in control. He could seduce her right now, right here, and she wouldn’t refuse.
That gave him a grim sense of satisfaction. And also aroused a mess of feelings he didn’t even begin to know how to examine.
“Perhaps you should get dressed.”
“I guess so.” She glanced down at the stained overalls. “Though I rather like wearing wine.”
He couldn’t help smiling. And watching closely as she stood and stretched those long, lean limbs. She glanced over her shoulder as she entered the large bathroom, which had a spacious changing area. He often used it to clean up before a group of guests arrived. The wide sofa would provide a soft and comfortable surface for…
Who was in danger of losing control here? He blew out a hard breath and sprung from his chair. Maybe it would be better if Susannah went back to New York as soon as possible. Her presence was a distraction. Already his name was on the lips of gossips and scandalmongers, he didn’t need them to get started on this brief and inconsequential affair.
“What should I do with these?” She held the stained overalls out through a crack in the door.
His eyes narrowed. He strode across the room and snatched them from her hands. Unfortunately, he couldn’t help glimpsing a flash of silky, bare skin in skimpy, lace-trimmed underwear.
Arousal flashed through him like heat lightning.
He entered the changing room and closed the door behind him. Susannah’s eyes widened. Her thick lashes lowered for a second in a display of modesty.
But her nipples, peaked beneath her silky, champagne-colored bra, made a mockery of her reserve.
He ran his palm over the dip in her waist. Her belly contracted at his touch. He marveled at the way her body responded to his—every time.
Thoughtful and sharp, Susannah couldn’t help also being sensual, instinctive.
He heard her breathing quicken. “Why did you really leave me alone in the barn?”
“I had work to do.”
“You could have woken me.”
“I didn’t want to disturb you.” He held her gaze. Pictured her waking up, alone. Searching for him.
His arousal quickened.
“I was worried. I thought maybe…” She bit her lip.
“What?”
She flicked a dark glance at him. “I couldn’t open the door. I thought you locked me in.”
He laughed. “Keeping you my prisoner until such time as I should have need of you again?”
She smiled. “It sounds silly, doesn’t it? I guess I panicked.”
“Still, it’s not a bad idea.” He turned and flicked the lock on the door. “I do like having you at my disposal.”
“Ignacio was in the barn, too.”
He froze. “He saw you?”
“No, he was gone by the time the boy found me. But he could find out. I don’t want to cause any more trouble.”
She looked so earnest, standing there in her expensive underwear.
Life was full of cruel but humorous contradictions.
She stared at him, apparently oblivious to her state of undress. “Ignacio says he’ll never do business with Tarrant Hardcastle.”
“I run the estate now.” He didn’t want to talk about business. Not while his body ached for the feel of her skin against his.
“But isn’t he still the legal owner?”
He frowned. A nast
y sensation snuck over him, warring with his desire. Had she researched proprietorship of the estate? “Are you afraid you’re wasting your time trying to do business with the wrong person?”
“No, of course not. I just…I don’t want to cause trouble.” Apprehension shone in her dark eyes. She bit her lush lips with those delicate white teeth.
“You don’t want to cause trouble?” He let out a harsh laugh. “It’s a bit late for that.” His life had been so easy once. Before she came. The estate humming smoothly, everyone prosperous and content.
All the family skeletons safely buried in the backyard.
And now? Pain torqued through him in equal measure to the fierce passion that racked his body.
And it was all Susannah’s doing.
He stepped toward her, invaded her space. When he brushed his thumb over her chin, her lips parted.
He cocked his head. “You do want our wine, don’t you?”
“I do, but…”
“If I want to sell wine to Tarrant Hardcastle, I’ll do it. Business is business.”
Her telltale wrinkle deepened. He wanted to tell her to stop thinking, but he didn’t want to waste breath on arguing, or even talking, so he leaned in to silence her with a kiss.
Relief flashed through him as her lips softened under his, and her mouth opened to welcome his tongue.
Stray thoughts hacked at his consciousness, fighting with the thick and inviting distraction of lust. If Ignacio truly considered him his son and rightful heir, he’d not interfere.
Tension ached in his muscles and he longed to lose himself in her arms. Nothing was certain any more. If Ignacio no longer saw him as his son and heir, because everyone now knew he was another man’s illegitimate son, then let things come to a head.
His breath grew ragged as he drew Susannah close, wrapping his arms around her slim, lithe body. Her long fingers dug into his back, holding him tight, and the first sweet strains of relief rang through him.
In her passionate embrace, the troubles of the world fell away. Nothing was left but the silky touch of her skin, her sweet breath on his face.
Already, his muscles stung with anticipation of the release they’d share. He nuzzled her neck, and enjoyed her sweet moan.
As his fingers roamed over her back and he buried his face in her hair, his heart ached with fierce longing to forget everything, everyone, except her.
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