An Exquisite Challenge

by Jennifer Hayward

  “You’ve never had a guy sleep over before.”

  She shook her head.

  “If I put down the remote, will that make it better?”

  She smiled weakly. “Possibly.”

  He held out his hand instead. “Get over here.”

  She chewed on her lip. “We’re keeping this between us right? You’re not going to announce this to the other De Campos tomorrow?”

  His jaw hardened. “I wasn’t planning on it, no. It’s no one’s business but ours.”

  “Fine.” One day at a time, Lex.

  His gaze moved down over the towel. “You have that sexy silk thing around? Or are you coming like that?”

  She dropped the towel and pulled on her nightie with a jerky, self-conscious movement that surely telegraphed her nerves. Her heart did a little pitter-patter as he reached out and hauled her against him. Sleeping with Gabe felt right in a way that terrified the hell out of her. She closed her eyes and forced herself to relax into his warm, hard heat.

  When she finally fell into a deep, heavy slumber, it was full of a million dreams. Dreams she had no business having. Like wanting to be the kind of woman Gabe shared his life with.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  AT SEVEN A.M. on a steamy day in Manhattan scheduled to climb into the nineties, Gabe stood on Alex’s doorstep in his wrinkled suit, distracting himself with how sexily she did the tousled, sleepy look. She was one of those rare women who looked even better without makeup, a trait his brothers would say instantly put her into top-tier status.

  He would have taken advantage of just how good she looked and allowed himself to be a half an hour late if it had been any morning but this one. Today he had to tell the other De Campos their much-anticipated big bet was dead and the way forward was the Angel’s Share.

  Biggest day of his life.

  He took the thermos of coffee Alex handed him. She lifted her fingers and brushed the hair out of his face. “You’ve got this,” she murmured. “You know that.”

  He nodded. It touched something inside of him, the strength of this woman. He’d known it for a long time, but as he climbed further and further inside her head and saw the vulnerable side of her—the side that the improper possession of a remote control could bring tumbling down—he found he wanted her even more. Wanted to protect her.

  “I’ll let you know what happens.” He leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers in a kiss meant to get him out the door. Her soft, eager response sent a shaft of desire through him. Dio, this woman got to him. “That was a goodbye kiss, not a hello kiss,” he reprimanded huskily, pulling away with effort.

  “So sorry,” she returned. “I’m not so good at telling the difference.”

  “Sì. You are.” He headed out into the steamy morning, a wry smile curving his mouth. Went home, changed and made it into the office before the others arrived. The family, still the controlling force of De Campo, made a habit of meeting themselves before the main board meeting to discuss key matters of interest. He settled in the boardroom and flicked through his presentation slides. They were burned into his brain.

  He had clashed with Antonio many times over the years, but never before had he believed in his vision as strongly as he did at this moment.

  Riccardo walked into the conference room, followed by Matty and Antonio. His elder brother’s gaze swept over him. “Tried to call you last night. You seemed to be occupied.”

  “I was sleeping,” he returned evenly. “The jet lag kills me every time.”

  His brother let it go. Antonio sat down and cut straight to the chase. “Word is Jordan Lane’s Black Cellar Select is The Devil’s Peak.”

  His tie suddenly felt too tight. He tugged at it, a gesture his titan of a father’s hawk eyes did not miss. “He has a mole in our organization feeding him information.”

  “Tell me you know who it is,” Riccardo said tightly.

  His stomach clenched. “I’m working on it.”

  Antonio’s dark eyes flashed. “Eight years down the drain and all you have to say is you’re working on it?”

  “What would you have me say?” Gabe’s voice vibrated with emotion. “The man is a criminal. I have a P.I. on it. We’ll find the person. Meanwhile,” he said, swallowing hard, “I have a backup plan.”

  Riccardo leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “Let’s hear it.”

  “The Devil’s Peak is still a brilliant wine. It’s going to do well for us regardless of Black Cellar Select. I say we leave it in the fall ad campaign, but launch and lead with the Angel’s Share instead.”

  Riccardo gave him a wary look. “The Malbec you’ve been working on?”

  “Yes.” He got to his feet and walked over to the sideboard. “This,” he said, setting the bottle on the conference table, “is the wine that will make De Campo’s Napa vintages famous in this country.”

  Antonio’s face was so red he looked as though he was going to blow a fuse. “A Malbec?” his father rasped. “You think a Malbec is going to be our star De Campo wine?”

  Gabe rolled his shoulders back and stayed focused. “It was always the plan to have The Devil’s Peak lay the groundwork first, then have the Angel’s Share put us over the top.” He woke up his laptop screen and projected his presentation onto the wall. “Napa winemakers have been exploring Malbecs for the last few years—some more than others. They’re working beautifully with the California soil. I think they’re the future.”

  He went through the stats on the nascent market for the varietal, how it had flourished in other geographies. “See how exponentially popular it’s been in Argentina and Australia.”

  “It’s not a real grape,” Antonio derided. “You want me to bet the future of our Napa vineyard on that?”

  Gabe held his patience with effort. “If we are to lead, we need to take a risk that will break us out of the pack. The Devil’s Peak is no longer that wine. But the Angel’s Share is. Pedro thinks it will score a ninety-seven.”

  Matty rubbed his hand over his chin. “I like Malbecs. Lots of buzz around them. But what about Syrah? Some say they’re the next to rule in California.”

  Gabe nodded. “They’re coming. But I would bet on the Malbecs.”

  Riccardo gave him a long look. “Pedro thinks it’s ready?”

  He nodded.

  “Could Lane have a line on this one, too? How far do you think he’s penetrated us?”

  “Only Pedro, Donovan and myself have been involved with the Angel’s Share. He can’t know about it.”

  Antonio shot to his feet. “We are not making our flagship wine a—a second-class wine,” he sputtered. “You are out of your mind, Gabriele.”

  Riccardo pointed at the bottle. “I’d like to taste it.”

  “So would I,” said Matty.

  He felt hope take flight in his chest. He picked up three glasses from the sideboard and poured for them all. Held his breath as they tasted. Riccardo’s expression was guarded. Matty’s open and curious. Antonio’s outraged.

  Riccardo set his glass down first. Turned to Antonio in deference to the old man.

  His father pushed his glass away with a disdainful look. “I don’t like it.”

  Gabe froze. A white-hot anger sparked inside of him. “What about it don’t you like?”

  The old man shrugged. “It doesn’t speak to me.”

  “It doesn’t speak to you?” Gabe stalked over and pushed the glass toward his father. “This is one of the most brilliant wines we’ve ever created. Tell me,” he yelled, “what you don’t like about it.”

  Antonio swiped the glass away. “This wine is not being made our marquee wine. We’ll use the Devil’s Peak instead.”

  “This is not old-world Italy.” The pressure in Gabe’s head built to an explosive level. “We need new wines that are going to resonate with the North American market and this grape, this wine is going to be huge.”

  His father stood up and faced him. “Do not disrespect me, Gabriele,” he boomed.
>
  “Me disrespect you?” Gabe looked at him in disbelief. “You’ve done nothing but disrespect me ever since I joined this company. You passed me over when you chose Riccardo without even giving me a fighting chance and you’ve never given me credit for what I’ve done in Napa. So do not speak of respect to me.”

  His father’s face went deathly white. “È ingrato—”

  “Basta.” Riccardo stepped between them. “I think the Malbec is magnificent. It is Gabe’s job to direct the wine operations of this company, and if he believes this is the direction we should follow, we will.”

  Antonio gave his eldest son a scorchingly furious look. “I am the head of this family.”

  “And I run De Campo,” Riccardo said evenly. “Try and ease gracefully into your silver years, Antonio. You’ve earned them.”

  His father stood there, visibly shaking, then spun on his heel and left. Gabe’s heart thundered in his ears. He paced to the window and braced his hands on the sill. And felt the world right itself. Finally. In that moment, Riccardo had annihilated any distance there had been between them because of Antonio’s choice.

  He turned to his elder brother. “Grazie,” he said quietly.

  Riccardo nodded. “It was the right thing to do.”

  Matty refilled his glass and tasted again. He had an innate sense of wine like Gabe did, his knowledge of the market exhaustive as De Campo’s head of international sales and marketing.

  “Be honest,” Gabe said harshly. “You, I trust.”

  Matty put the glass down and smiled his devil-may-care rake’s smile. “I may not have tasted a better wine in my life.”

  * * *

  Alex met Lilly at their favorite coffee shop on Broadway, both of them going for java even though it was hot enough to fry an egg on the pavement. Gabe’s meeting was hot on her mind, and she found herself flicking regular glances at her watch while trying to follow Lilly’s convoluted recap of a funny conversation she’d had with Marco last night.

  Lilly finished, took a sip of her latte and gave Alex’s watch a pointed look. “That’s at least the fifth time you’ve checked it. Event stuff?”

  She nodded. “Whatever happens in the De Campo meeting will have a big impact on our event.”

  Lilly put down her coffee. “You’re sleeping with Gabe.’

  She felt the color drain from her face. “Yes.”

  Her sister sat back in her chair and folded her hands in front of her. “So what was last night all about, then? You two looked like you wanted to kill each other.”

  “We’ve worked it out.”

  “Does he know you’re in love with him?”

  Alex recoiled. “I am not in love with Gabe De Campo.”

  “Oh, come on,” Lilly muttered, making a face at her. “You may not wear your emotions on your sleeve like I do, Lex, more like a foot under, but any idiot could see it. You have this glow on your face and despite the scowl, there’s just something about you this morning.”

  “I do not fall in love with men,” she reminded her sister. “Jordan was enough to sour me forever.”

  “That was five years ago.” Lilly lifted her chin at a determined angle. “Honestly, Lex, I never thought I’d say this to you, but I know you’d say it to me, so I will. You need to stop using Jordan as an excuse. What he did to you was awful and damaging and I can see why you don’t trust easily. But Gabe is not Jordan.”

  “No, he isn’t,” Alex agreed. “Gabe has dozens of women chomping at the bit to snare him. What would your choice be if you were him? One with issues or a society wife?”

  “Aha.” Lilly pointed a finger at her. “You’re talking wife.”

  “Oh, come on.” Alex took a sip of her bitter Kenyan brew. “You know I’m right.”

  Lilly frowned. “Gabe doesn’t need doors opened for him. He’s a De Campo.”

  “He doesn’t need a scandal, either. I dated Damon Harding, Lilly. I had a relationship with the head of a biker gang, then an affair with a married man. How is that De Campo material?”

  “You didn’t know he was married. You were the victim there, Lex. But I’d really prefer you not be in victim mode right now.” Lilly crossed her arms over her chest. “Does Gabe know about Damon and Jordan?”

  “He knows about Damon.”

  “So tell him about Jordan. Get it over with. I think you’ll find Gabe is a reasonable man.”

  Alex pushed her mug away. “Hell, Lilly, I’m not what he’s looking for. You know the type of woman Gabe’s looking for, and it’s not me.”

  “I know he couldn’t take his eyes off you last night even though he was mad as hell,” her sister said softly. “I think you should ask him what he’s looking for.”

  She set her mouth in an obstinate gesture. Sure, Gabe had said he cared about her last night. That what he felt was more than wanting. But how far could that go? How far could she let this go without getting her heart broken? And should she ask the question to get a level set?

  Did she dare?

  “So?” Lilly waved a hand at her. “You going to?”

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  “You should tell him about Jordan, Lex. Darya Theriault walked out on Gabe to marry a senior partner at her law firm she was having an affair with. He needs to hear it from you.”

  A strange, buzzing sound filled her ears. “That’s why he and Darya broke up?”

  Lilly nodded. “Apparently Darya had second thoughts a couple of years ago and called Gabe up, but he didn’t want any part of her.”

  Her blood ran cold, a chilled decisiveness stealing over her. Gabe’s ex-lover had cheated on him and she was supposed to tell him about Jordan? Not happening. Never happening.

  Lilly leaned over and squeezed her arm. “If you have a guy like Gabe De Campo in the palm of your hand, Lex, you don’t wonder why. You don’t question yourself and you don’t act like Miss I Can Do It All Myself. You grab hold of him and secure him before someone else does.”

  Okay, maybe that part she agreed with.

  * * *

  A brutally long fourteen-hour workday later, Alex sat on the leather sofa in Gabe’s very beautiful, very masculine living room in his very expensive penthouse trying to work up the nerve to ask that question Lilly had inserted in her head. She was also trying to ignore the lure of his steam shower long enough to get the question out. She’d forced a laugh when Gabe had showed it to her, intent gleaming in his eyes. “We have to work,” she’d said, poking him in the chest. “Later.”

  They’d spent the next three hours revamping the event plan to include the Angel’s Share, written some messaging for it and consumed an entire pepperoni pizza. “So what are you going to say when the press asks you how much Antonio had to do with the Angel’s Share?” she tested him, setting down her clipboard.

  “His presence is felt everywhere and we are a great blend of the old and the new.” Gabe scowled at the politically correct answer. “We are done now, sì?” he asked, pulling her into his lap. “I would like it to be later.”

  She smiled, maybe less brightly than she normally would have. “We are. That was perfect. You know I’m only doing this for your own good.”

  “And I am listening,” he murmured, setting his lips to her temple. “See? I can learn.”

  She reached for her glass of wine with a jerky movement. He lifted a brow. “You never talk about your mother,” she said. “Where was she when Antonio was acting the overbearing patriarch?”

  “Conspicuously absent.” He started unbuttoning her shirt and Alex’s body hummed to life. “My parents’ marriage was a business merger of two influential families. My mother did her part and bore us, three boys, exactly what my father wanted, then left us most of the time to do her charity work, which is the legacy of the Lombardi women.”

  “So neither of us had great examples of marriages to work with.”

  He undid the last button of her shirt. “Some would say my parents are very happy. They’re both doing their own thing.”
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  “What do you think?”

  He slid his fingers under her jaw. “I’m wondering where this conversation is going.”

  Her stomach twisted. Was that a warning not to get serious on him? She lifted her shoulders. “I’m curious, that’s all.”

  He drew his brows together. “I don’t know. I think relationships are complex.”

  “Are you still in love with Darya?”

  His gaze narrowed. “No, I am not still in love with Darya. I haven’t been since she walked out on me. But I like that you are jealous.”

  “She’s still in love with you,” she murmured. “I saw her face at the party.”

  “Her problem.” He brushed his thumb over her lace-covered nipple, sending liquid heat to her core. “What do you really want to ask me, Lex?”

  She swallowed hard. “I am not Darya Theriault, Gabe. And I am definitely not Samantha Parker. I’m a dirt-poor girl from Iowa who managed to make something of herself.”

  “Who I have a great deal of respect for.”

  That wasn’t enough. “I saw the look on your face that night in the restaurant, Gabe. You say I caught you off guard, but you have to admit, you have never, ever considered me long-term material. You avoided me because of it.”

  His eyes flickered with an emotion she couldn’t identify. “That’s because I didn’t know you.”

  “You know me now. I get that you can’t make promises you can’t keep and I respect that. But I have enough skeletons in my past to sink a ship. Bad things that could hurt you.”

  He shook his head slowly. “Your past isn’t so bad, Lex. So you were a rebellious teenager. Stop trying to push me away before I can invest anything in you.”

  She should tell him. She knew she should.

  He reached around and unhooked her bra. Stripped it from her and tossed it to the floor. “Baby steps,” he murmured, locking his gaze with hers. “That’s all I’m asking, Lex. Just small little steps.”

  Her desire to trust him fully warred with her desire never to expose her biggest shame. Her blood pounded in her veins, felt as though it didn’t have enough room to move. Goddamn Jordan Lane. How was she supposed to open up, knowing Gabe’s ability to destroy her was far more powerful than Jordan’s had ever been?