JustOneTaste

by Sami Lee

  “Buster! Keaton! Get back here.”

  The owner of the voice accompanied the call with a few sharp whistles, which caused the dogs to stop in their tracks. Ears pricking up, they peered behind them and awaited their master’s approach.

  In the next instant David rounded the side of the building. His attention was momentarily fixed on controlling the dogs so Sarah took the opportunity to drink in the sight of him. He wore dusty work boots, grimy faded jeans that fit the shape of his long muscular legs and a red-and-black flannel shirt. His face was obscured by an Akubra hat that was bent out of shape around the brim and a pair of dark wraparound sunglasses.

  He appeared every inch the country dweller, a man who spent his time outdoors tending to his vines. He couldn’t have looked more different than the person she’d originally met in Melbourne, yet his presence was as spellbinding now as it had been then.

  “Sarah.”

  Other than a hint of surprise, there was no telling inflection in his tone. Was he happy to see her? Angry? Afraid she was turning out to be a maniacal stalker?

  When Sarah stood by her car, hesitating over what to say—so unlike a Harrington to do that!—David sauntered toward her, Buster and Keaton trailing excitedly behind. “Sorry about the dogs. I usually lock them out back when I’m expecting visitors.”

  “That’s fine,” Sarah finally managed to speak. “I wasn’t expected. And I like dogs.”

  Thrilled with this information, one of the canines leapt up and planted his big dirty paws on Sarah’s dove-gray Prada pantsuit.

  “Keaton—down!” David scolded the animal.

  The dog pinned its ears back in a show of remorse and once again dropped to the ground. Unperturbed by his mate’s strife, Buster deposited the saliva-coated stick onto one of her patent leather Jimmy Choo pumps.

  “So you really like dogs, huh?” David’s rueful humor alleviated some of Sarah’s discomfiture.

  She laughed as she bent to pick up Buster’s prize and throw it to him. Both animals chased after it with a series of yelps. “They’re only clothes. I’m fine.”

  He remained silent as he studied her. She couldn’t see his eyes behind those concealing sunglasses but she sensed his perusal taking her in from head to foot. Did he think her ridiculous for wearing such an expensive, professional outfit to a rural vineyard? Sarah had decided against changing into something more casual before she’d left the office. This was a business meeting, after all. She didn’t want David to get the idea she had hunted him down for personal reasons.

  So stop staring at him like he’s Beluga caviar on toast, why don’t you?

  “I came to make you an offer.”

  The edges of his sensuous mouth kicked up at her blurted statement. First hesitating and now blurting. Why was she so darned nervous? “Someone from your company already contacted me. Didn’t you get a report or something?”

  “I was told you aren’t interested in selling any product to Harry’s Nook.”

  David lifted one of those wide shoulders. Sarah heard the fabric shifting against his skin. “Then you got the message.”

  Sarah forced her mind away from the thought of David’s taut flesh beneath the shirt. That tantalizing sprinkle of chest hair was visible at the wide-open V of the flannel. She cleared her throat. “I think you should reconsider.”

  “Do you?” He slipped off his sunglasses and regarded her with those steady brown eyes. His scrutiny made Sarah’s pulse beat faster. “There are plenty of good vintages for sale in this region. Why would the CEO of such a successful chain of wine bars come all the way out here to procure my little-known Shiraz?”

  Why indeed? Professional suit or no, it was impossible to obfuscate the truth. No way would Sarah herself be here if this was a simple business transaction. “I wanted to make sure your reluctance has nothing to do with what happened between us.”

  “It has everything to do with that.”

  His blunt response startled Sarah. “So you are being spiteful.”

  “Spiteful?” His laugh was full of irony. “How do you figure?”

  “You’re angry about the way I treated you—perhaps rightfully so.” His head cocked to the side at that, his gaze losing its rancor. That attentive expression melted her insides and she pushed on while she still could. “I behaved badly so I understand why you wouldn’t want to do business with my company. But you have a quality product and I’m willing to buy it. I hate to see anyone make a poor business decision due to some personal vendetta.”

  “Vendetta?” He chuckled. “Oh, Sarah, this isn’t mob country, you know. I don’t have any kind of grudge against you.”

  “You don’t?” When he shook his head, his lips curving, Sarah pressed, “Then why would you refuse to sell to me? It’s bad for business.”

  “And I can see that offends your sense of professional ethics,” he noted, clearly amused. “Is that what you drove an hour out of your way to tell me? Or was there some other reason for your visit?”

  Despite the way her face burned at the teasing suggestion in his tone, Sarah drew herself up to her full height and treated him to a scathing glare. “Are you insinuating I came especially to see you?”

  He took a step toward her. Placing a hand on the roof of the car, he inclined his body toward hers. His nearness shaded her from the slanting afternoon sun but replaced its heat with that emanating from his body. “Not insinuating. Hoping.”

  Tingles, both delicious and frightening, chased themselves all over Sarah’s skin. Her breath grew shallow. Damn him for being so straightforward and compelling her to face the truth—she had come here to see him. An employee could have been relied upon to handle the situation with diplomacy but she’d traveled the distance herself, alone. Because she’d needed to see if the unique spark that had struck alight between them three weeks ago was still there.

  Now, for better or worse, Sarah had her answer. The passion that had flared between them on their previous encounter was no fluke. Merely standing this close to David had her breasts humming, their tips growing rigid. Her belly was laden with hot moisture, her pussy lips engorged, intuitively recalling the sensation of David’s tongue working them open and delving inside her most private spaces.

  Sarah swallowed past the ball of lust that had formed in her throat. “I owe you an apology.”

  “For mistaking me for a gigolo or for accusing me of intent to blackmail?”

  He apparently found his own question entertaining, which didn’t make it any easier for Sarah to take. “For the latter, definitely. As for the former… I may be embarrassed to have you know that but I won’t apologize for it. I have every right to have my needs…attended to.”

  Oh, could she be any more mortified? David studied her face, then took in the long column of her throat and the open buttons at the top of her silk blouse. “And were they attended to…satisfactorily?”

  Sarah’s heart thundered and the needs they were discussing regenerated with vigor. “I can’t forget about it,” she admitted breathlessly.

  A sigh fell out of him. His voice lowered, rumbled, as his attention focused on her mouth. “Neither can I.”

  “You gave me so much and I did the wrong thing by you. I want to make amends.”

  His smile was lethal, brimming with wicked possibilities. “How so?”

  “Let me help the winery. Let Harry’s Nook stock your product.”

  Abruptly, David pulled back, making Sarah lean forward, reflexively chasing the kiss she’d thought he was about to bestow. He stared at her, his expression incredulous. “You’re on about the wine again?”

  Of course she was on about the wine. Wine was his business and hers. “You don’t sound pleased.”

  He took two steps backward, his work boots stirring up the dirt beneath his feet. Resting his hands on his narrow hips, David assessed her as though she were a touch insane. “I don’t get you, Sarah.”

  “What’s to get? You produce something that I sell. If there’s no acrimony
here, there’s no reason we can’t come to some kind of arrange—”

  “I stocked that cheese in the back fridge, Dave.” A young woman with a smooth chestnut ponytail emerged from the cellar door, interrupting them. She wore jeans that appeared almost as dusty as David’s and a flannel—hers in blue and black. She also carried a baby on her left side. “I gave everything a good wipe down and stocked the change till… Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had company.”

  The woman glanced between David and Sarah with open curiosity. Sarah stared at her and the child she carried. He wore a pair of denim overalls and a floppy Thomas the Tank Engine hat. He stared at Sarah with huge brown eyes and smiled, displaying two solitary teeth.

  “Kerri, this is Sarah.” David introduced them with obvious reluctance. Sarah’s attention returned to him with a snap at his disgruntled tone.

  “Oh, hi, Sarah.”

  Turning back to the woman, Sarah tried for a smile but it was shaky on her lips. Her stomach had taken a nosedive and she didn’t like where her thoughts where headed, especially when Kerri handed the baby over to David as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Would you mind holding Jaxon for a sec? I’ll be right back. Nice to meet you, Sarah.”

  The other woman returned to the interior of the shop, casting one last curious glance back at them. Sarah stared at David, at the man she’d invited to her bed three weeks ago. He held the baby capably in his arms. Her stomach roiled as the suspicion formed in her mind, insidious and sickening. Tell me no. Tell me it’s nothing that repugnant.

  But Kerri of the matching flannel shirt had obviously been setting up the shop for weekend trading, and she’d handed the baby over readily, trusting David completely to care for him. And David was obviously unhappy about Kerri and Sarah coming face-to-face.

  Because no man wanted the fling he’d had in the city to meet his wife and child.

  Dear God, Sarah. When are you going to stop being so naïve when it comes to men?

  Chapter Eight

  David finished strapping Jaxon in his car seat and gave his chubby belly a scratch before closing the back door of the four-wheel drive. He said to Kerri, “Thanks for your help today. Say hi to Phil for me.”

  “I will. Should I tell my husband you’ll be at the pub tonight to watch the rugby or do you have other plans?”

  David scowled at Kerri’s faux innocent expression. “I haven’t made other plans.”

  “He’ll understand if something better has come up.”

  When Kerri wiggled her eyebrows, David rolled his eyes. “Sarah’s a…business thing.” That was all she wanted there to be between them apparently. “But it might take me a while to sort it so tell him not to expect me.”

  “Business thing, right.” Kerri lowered her voice to a whisper. “It’s about time you met someone, David. Melissa’s been gone almost nine months. Is she nice, this one?”

  Kerri had never come right out and said so, but David had sensed her dislike of Melissa and her refusal to even try to fit in with the locals. Melissa had been a city girl, through and through, and she’d never adapted to the rhythm of life in the vineyards.

  He had to think Sarah would be of the same ilk. But as he turned, following the line of Kerri’s gaze, he saw Sarah bending down to pet Buster without care for the stray hairs that may land on her once-pristine suit. Then she retrieved the mutt’s revolting stick and threw it for him—something that even David was disinclined to do—and David wondered if he’d pegged her wrong. Despite her attire and the expensive European car, Sarah didn’t appear out of place playing with the dogs in the afternoon sun. Instead, she seemed to fit perfectly into that picture.

  David roused himself from that wistful thought and turned back to find Kerri grinning at him. He showed her an admonishing look. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Kez. She thought Jaxon was mine.” That much had been clear from the way she’d blanched at the sight of him holding the baby, the disgust that had hardened her features before Kerri came back out with Jaxon’s baby bag and started talking about going home to her big studly husband.

  “So now she knows he’s not.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Nothing worthwhile ever is.” Kerri shrugged and started the car. “Can I help it if I want you to be happy? You’re a smart bloke, Dave. Go with whatever your gut tells you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Kerri gave him a wave as she started the vehicle and headed down the driveway.

  David watched her go, contemplating her advice. His gut told him the same thing it had three weeks ago—having Sarah turn up in his life was an unexpectedly wonderful stroke of luck for an average guy like him, and he shouldn’t squander it. He hadn’t been able to resist stealing a slice of the heaven she offered back then, and no matter what it cost him later he still couldn’t regret it. What he was going to do about the opportunity her presence now presented, he hadn’t yet decided.

  He ought to send her packing in that gleaming Mercedes, like he’d wanted to the instant he realized she still thought fiscal generosity was the way to his heart. Heart, geez. David didn’t want to think his heart had gotten so swiftly and irrevocably involved.

  Yet the truth was from their first meeting there’d been something about Sarah’s direct stare and her faintly curving lips that had wound around his most vulnerable places and squeezed tight. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her in the weeks since he’d left her hotel room, even when he knew it was pointless to dream night and day about a woman who despised him.

  Pitiful stuff, Genero. Truly pitiful.

  Turning on his heel, David headed back toward the small facility he used to invite visitors in for wine tasting and complimentary cheese. Sarah stood at the open door, peering inside. When David approached, she said without glancing at him, “It’s charming. Would you mind if I have a peek inside?”

  Now would be the time to tell her to take a hike. What came out instead was, “Be my guest.”

  David lingered behind her as she toured the interior, wondering what she thought of the exposed wooden floors and the bar decorated with corrugated iron. The old oak barrels used as cocktail tables didn’t exactly scream class. No doubt she was used to more lavish surrounds.

  “It’s impressive what you’ve done with the place. I know you inherited it in some disrepair.” She turned and caught his surprised expression. “You have before and after pictures on your website, and lots of background information. It’s amazing the vineyard’s beginning to thrive again after the damage you sustained in the bushfires.”

  Black Saturday must have been the last straw for his Uncle Fred, whose failing health had contributed to Windy Valley’s declined productivity. When the bushfires destroyed a good portion of the outer fence line, allowing kangaroos to graze freely on the crops, David had come from his sales job in the city to help.

  “My uncle was sick on and off for a long time,” he explained quietly. “I didn’t know how sick until I got here after the fires and found him on the floor, barely able to breathe. He died a week later in hospital, from pneumonia. No one was more surprised than I when he left me this place—except maybe for my cousin Rick, Fred’s son.”

  “He thought it should have gone to him,” Sarah concluded.

  “Definitely. I guess Uncle Fred thought Rick would sell it. He travels overseas often for his job and never had any interest in learning the business. I spent summers here growing up and always loved the lifestyle. Uncle Fred wanted to leave it to a Genero who’d keep it in the family.”

  Sarah nodded, the gesture showing she understanding the bonds of family loyalty. “You’ve done the right thing by him keeping the place open against the odds.”

  Pleasure expanded inside him at her praise, defying David’s attempts to quash it. “I owed it to him.”

  “Just as you owe it to him to keep running, keep expanding. I can help with that.”

  “Ah yes.” David shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “Here’s wher
e you remind me you’re here to conduct business.”

  “I am,” she insisted. “Really, David, I don’t usually have to beg vendors to sell me stock.”

  “You don’t usually deal with people who’ve been accused of blackmailing you into buying it.”

  Tension squared her shoulders. “I told you I was sorry about that.”

  “So that’s it—we forget it? Should I also forget what happened outside before? That you thought I had a wife and kid, which would make me not only a blackmailing cad but a cheating pig as well?”

  “Kerri clearly knows her way around here, and the baby obviously adores you.”

  “Kerri helps me out on weekends. She’s crazy about her husband, who also happens to be a friend of mine. And kids tend to like me—is that a crime?”

  She insisted stiffly, “It was a reasonable assumption to make.”

  “Not by my standards. Jesus, what kind of life have you had that you expect men to treat you like trash and are too surprised when it doesn’t happen to appreciate the gift it is?”

  Her gasp was audible in the high-ceilinged room. Paling, she turned away on the pretense of studying one of the photographs of the vineyard that lined the wall, a black-and-white of his uncle planting his first cabernet crop back in 1982. After a moment during which her struggle to contain her emotions was palpable, Sarah finally responded in a tremulous voice, “You have no idea what my life has been like.”

  David’s voice was as unsteady as hers. “So tell me, Sarah.”

  “Haven’t you googled me?” she queried with droll sarcasm. “I did it to you.”

  “None of the things I want to know about you can be found in some old magazine articles that have their own slant. I need to know why you’re so determined to hate me.”

  She whirled back to him then, and David saw the telltale glistening of tears. “I don’t hate you.”

  “You don’t trust me.” The mere suggestion of Sarah’s tears undid him and David took the few steps required to close the distance between them. Reaching up, he stroked his fingertips along her defined cheekbone. “Do you trust anyone?”