Romancing the Wine: A Boxed Set of 9 Newest Novellas from Award-Winning Authors

by Jan Moran

  Her manager, Deena, had agreed to her proposal so Lily had glammed herself up and made the brave decision to tell the “world” who she was.

  But darn it that wasn’t going to happen if this crowd, who’d forked out one thousand dollars per ticket, weren’t paying attention. Instead they were stuffing themselves with the magnificent array of desserts, she’d organised.

  Their chatter drowned out the MC’s amplified voice. They hadn’t talked so loudly when a gorgeous lingerie model wearing an indecently tiny bikini had strutted across the stage. A date with her, had reached a staggering fifteen thousand dollars.

  “Ladies and gentlemen. Lily Taylor is a talented singer, with a stunning voice. As a new and upcoming jazz performer, you’ll want her to perform at your next function. Do I hear five hundred dollars?”

  Nothing. Not a bid.

  The MC cleared his throat before raising the microphone again. “Ladies and gentlemen, you know how worthy tonight’s charity is? We’re here to raise money for research and help the kids.”

  Lily allowed herself a moment’s relaxation as the actor continued his spiel. He was good, really good. Desperate parents struggling. Sweet kids suffering. Ways their generosity would help.

  A man, seated at a table close to the stage, raised his hand and said, “One dollar.”

  His friend snorted loudly with amusement, lifted his arm, and called out, “Two dollars.”

  Others around joined in and soon enough choruses of bids had totalled thirteen dollars and twenty-five cents.

  Fire burned in Lily’s belly and she quashed an urgent need to jump from the stage and stomp on men’s toes with her stilettos.

  Finally the MC calmed the raucous group down. “Ladies and gents, we’re doing this for the kids. How about a bid of two hundred and fifty dollars?”

  Someone get me off this stage, she pleaded silently as vexed annoyance dripped down her back. What had seemed like a good idea to launch herself had turned into a stupid stunt making her look foolish. If she could go back in time, she would’ve said nothing to her boss, the organiser of tonight’s event. As an excellent PA, there was no need to reach for the stars and make a fool of herself. Having harboured her dream for being a professional singer for so long, it could’ve waited a little longer.

  Diego Sanchez made his way back to the table, apologising to his date for his lateness. He’d been stuck chatting with an acquaintance outside.

  He sat. The MC’s request for a bid droned over the crowd’s chatter. The auction was still going? Rolling his eyes with boredom, his gaze flitted around the large room before making its way to the stage.

  His gut twisted tightly, like a corkscrew into a cork, and he sucked in a sharp breath. He took another disbelieving look, almost unable to believe what he was seeing. It was her. Lily!

  His eyes widened and the chatter around him faded so all he heard was the thump thump of his heart pounding against his ribs.

  How many restless nights and mornings had he awoken, throbbing with need, wanting her? And of all places to find her again, being auctioned off. Que estupido.

  His date, Sonja, sighed. “I wish they’d finish, this is sooooooo boring.”

  Her chatter disappeared into an annoying hum.

  “Diego? You’re not listening to me.” A hand caressed his thigh.

  “Not now.” He hissed.

  Sonja gave him one of her practised whimpers of neglect. “Diego?”

  His molars ground together before he deftly removed her hand and pushed his chair back from the table.

  He couldn’t keep his eyes off the stunning redhead standing on the stage, the one whose moans of pleasure had haunted him for the past month. Their one-night stand would’ve been more than one night if his father hadn’t had a heart attack.

  The noise around him reached a raucous crescendo. A man seated near him called out a fifty cent bid, clapping his hands, obviously intoxicated with the exuberance of the bidding war.

  Distaste curdled in his belly before his fingers clenched into balls. His gaze took in Lily standing metres away from him, fire burning in her eyes.

  He had to save her. He had to get her off that stage. He had to…get her back in his bed?

  He sucked in a sharp breath, remembering the sweet taste of her skin and the soft sobs when she cried out his name begging for completion, that night.

  No. What he needed to do was rescue her from the senseless game of small bids. He smiled. One bid should do it. “Thirty thousand dollars,” he said in a loud, take-no-prisoners voice.

  The noise stopped. The laughter ended. You could hear a pin drop. Who had made the bid?

  Lily snapped her mouth shut and wondered how long it had been gaping open. Shocked, a tightness in her chest made it hard to breathe. A collective gasp swept through the palladium.

  “We have a bid from a gentleman on table two for thirty thousand dollars.” The MC sounded awestruck, astounded, astonished.

  The MC stopped and looked at the table. “Any more fifty cent bids?” he asked with a raised brow. “No? Sold to the gentleman on table two. Thank you for your generosity, sir.”

  Any minute now, Deena, her boss, would come over, laugh and tell her it was all a set-up, a way to get her off the stage because they were behind schedule. Relief threaded through her veins. No one would bid so much money for her. The model had scored fifteen thousand dollars. Who would bid twice that? For a jazz singer.

  With a stage light blinding her vision, she could just make out a tall man standing.

  The MC announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for The Crow.” The Crow was one of Australia’s most exciting rock stars. The room exploded with thunderous noise, the audience cheering, as the star of the evening leapt on the stage bellowing out his signature song.

  Lily scuttled with the speed of a gazelle off the stage and collapsed on the floor backstage. A bucket of relief splashed over her, steadying her nerves. It was over. Finally.

  Drawing in some deep breaths, picking herself up, straightening her shoulders, she then made her way to the Palladium so she could change back in to her sensible suit and return to her job. As the PA to the event’s manager, she was responsible for ensuring the evening was not only efficient, but eventful.

  The Crow’s voice filled every inch of the palladium and the criss-crossing of the laser light show made for spectacular viewing but distracted her while she made her way down the narrow stairs at the side of the stage.

  To retrieve her clothes she was going to have to walk past her torturers. The table made of the low bidders. Was there a detour away from the antagonistic tossers?

  Turning in her heels she walked right into a chest. A very manly, solid chest. A recognisable scent filled her nostrils. Her head tilted up, recognition fluttered in her belly, and her gaze clashed with the fantasy of all fantasies.

  The man she’d indulged with in a one-night stand. The man who’d danced the Argentine tango so well it could be considered foreplay. A man she never expected to see again. Diego Sanchez.

  “Diego?” Seeing him in the flesh reemphasised how unattainable he was. He was hot and could’ve modelled for designer labels. While she was…she was Lily. An everyday gal with everyday looks.

  Her greedy gaze took in his chiselled jaw and high cheekbones. The memory of their time together was seared in her brain. She’d never been so upfront, wild, or naughty as she had with him. He’d had a way of making her toss her good-girl attitudes in the bin and indulge in mind-blowing sex. Not just once but many times.

  Her cheeks flushed remembering how she screamed out his name as he drove into her, fulfilling her as no man had ever done. And now he was standing in front of her. And she was embarrassed. Embarrassed for leaving early, embarrassed for how loud she’d been that night but now, embarrassed because he’d have seen the auction. She wanted to hide.

  Plastering a smile across her lips to hide the nerves coursing through her veins, she said, “Diego.” Even to her own
ears, her voice sounded needy and breathless. How pathetic was that. Get it together, Lily. In a city of four million people, you were bound to run into him.

  “Hello, Lily.” His Spanish-tinged Australian accent had her toes curling in stiletto heels.

  Stupid, she couldn’t remember her manners and make polite conversation. Instead she stood immobilised like a kangaroo caught in car headlights and blurted out, “I thought you were a dance teacher. You didn’t tell me you’re an entrepreneur, a millionaire.”

  “Is that an accusation or a compliment?” His left eyebrow lifted as a smile tugged at his full, sensuous lips. Lips that had made her thighs quiver with need.

  She was a goner. She had to stop thinking about him. Besides, he hadn’t made contact since that night. He probably hadn’t given her a second thought. If he had, he could’ve called her. But he hadn’t. Actions spoke volumes.

  “It’s just that…” Anxiety enveloped her lungs making it hard to breathe. She had no idea what to say, what to do, what to think. An etiquette book on “What to do when you run into your first one-night stand in a public place” would’ve come in handy now.

  “I didn’t mention it when we…” He took a step closer. “Met.”

  She stretched her fingers out, then reclenched them. “I thought you were helping out your sister.”

  Wrong! A quick Internet search, the following day, had revealed him to be the brains and ideas behind the hugely successful Sanchez wine bars all over Melbourne, showcasing premium wines including his family’s own.

  There were also plenty of images of him with beautiful women. Of course a man like him would have women flocking to him. Great looks, great business mind, great in bed. Darn it. She snapped at her brain again.

  How could she have not realised a man with such an autocratic, sexy personality would be a successful millionaire, with a luxurious apartment along the prestigious St Kilda Road?

  How she’d tried, desperately, to forget their time together but most nights she remembered how amazing it’d been. They hadn’t even made it to the bedroom and had had sex on the luxurious woollen carpet of his apartment.

  Good girls, like her, didn’t have thrilling sex with someone they’d just met. She’d seen her reflection the following morning. The bathroom mirror showed a tired, cranky single mum. But despite the connection she felt with him, she wasn’t glamorous or effervescent. Sure they’d had great sex, but it wasn’t like they could have more. He’d undoubtedly get bored of her, like her few previous boyfriends. So she’d made the difficult decision to keep the night special, one night, and had snuck out of his place, before he awoke.

  Seeing her boss, Deena, stalking toward them made her shoulders sag with relief. She could get away from Diego. Work was a good excuse. She had to escape from him because one searing look from him could melt her bones and she’d do something stupid like suggest they have coffee back at his apartment.

  Within seconds Deena was standing between them, her beaming smile so wide it could be seen from outer space. “Mr. Sanchez.”

  Interest crinkled her brow and Lily was surprised to see her boss gush, her eyelashes fluttering with enchantment. Deena knew Diego?

  “I’m Deena Carmichael, the organiser of tonight’s event.” She held her hand out to Diego.

  Lily’s eyes narrowed, watching Diego shake Deena’s hand. “Please call me Diego.”

  “I can’t thank you enough for your generosity.” Deena fawned over Diego, her manicured fingers brushing his arm in a way that was a tad overfriendly.

  Concern made her lungs clench with apprehension. She’d thought Deena was coming to see her. But she’d come to see Diego and was being overly friendly like she wanted something.

  Perhaps someone pinned a note to her back? Perhaps everyone was in on the joke except her. “W-what’s g-going on?” She swayed on unsteady legs. Perhaps the spotlight had baked her brain cells.

  Deena turned to her with a disbelieving look as if to say, didn’t you see the note pinned to your back? Instead she said, with a cynical roll of her eyes, “Lily, Diego was the winning bid, for you.” She turned to face Diego, with yet another beam of wide lips, flashing two rows of perfectly straight teeth. “One hundred percent of the monies raised in the auction tonight are going to the Children’s Foundation.”

  Diego nodded, giving Deena a polite smile.

  What? Lily blinked rapidly as nausea rolled in her belly. Diego was her liberator? He’d saved her from a humiliation comparable to the death of a thousand cuts. It hadn’t been Deena? An arrow of disbelief shot through her ribs and Lily staggered back, her wobbly legs barely containing her weight. “That was you?”

  “Yes, that winning bid was mine,” he said, wondering why she looked so aghast. Having saved her from those stupid bids was it so hard to expect a little gratitude? Or perhaps her friendly demeanour was an act? Obviously she hadn’t felt the connection he had between them.

  He turned his gaze to the older woman. “I’ll write the cheque and give it to Lily, shall I?” His tone implied she was no longer required, which she wasn’t. He wanted to be with Lily, not some organiser whose overfriendly touches were grating on his nerves. “If you’ll excuse us, I’d like a few minutes with Lily,” he said.

  “Well, ah…”

  Diego ignored the woman’s fussing and took Lily’s elbow. He spotted a dim, quiet corner and guided her there.

  Despite his slow movements and calm demeanour, his pulse was pounding a primitive beat. The subtle waft of her shampoo teased his nostrils and he buried inappropriate thoughts of leaning closer and breathing deeply.

  “You look like I just deliberately hurt a puppy,” he said in a low voice.

  Her shoulders sagged and her gaze lifted to meet his. “I was just surprised. I ran into you, literally, only to find out it was you who made that bid. Why did you spend so much, when you could’ve had me perform for less than that?”

  “The money goes to charity, does it matter?” he said with a flippant wave of his hand. He didn’t want to tell her, now, he’d been focussed on getting her off the stage.

  She rested her hands on her hips and the skin between her eyebrows crinkled. “Yes, it does.” She blew out a long breath. “You’ve embarrassed me. It’s going to look like you bought me for…” She stumbled over her words before she muttered the word, “sex”. Her pale skin emphasised the flush that started on her neck and worked its way up to her cheeks.

  He suppressed an urge to laugh; she was just gorgeous with her flaming red hair and blazing green eyes looking at him like she was angry or annoyed or whatever the hell she was. If anyone was going to be angry it would be him. But he pushed the anger aside because he was genuinely glad to see her again.

  He was surprised she was so concerned about her reputation. No one would care. Did it matter whether they’d had sex or not? Couples their age had sex. He dismissed her concerns by suggesting, “I’ll put out a press release.”

  This seemed to appease her as she nibbled on her lower lip. “When do you want me to perform?”

  Having paid a ridiculously large amount, he shouldn’t have forgotten about organising for her to perform. The problem was, he hadn’t cared. He’d wanted her off that stage but he also wanted to see her again.

  “Tuesday night,” he said without a thought. He had a function then and he wanted her there, with him.

  “Excuse me?” Her brow lifted. “What’s on Tuesday night?”

  He huffed. “Sorry. You remember my sister?”

  “Of course I do.” She leaned forward, interest shining in her eyes.

  “We’re seeing her perform and I want you to accompany me.” He paused. “As my guest. And during supper you can perform.” He gave himself a giant thumbs-up, impressed with his ability to come up with something so quickly. Not only would she perform, but she’d be his date for the evening. A prosperous idea.

  “Who’ll be there?”

  “My family,” he said, which was true, but didn’t take i
nto consideration the size of the clan. If he mentioned it, would she still attend? Or only come for the performance? Being greedy and wanting her there had him implying what he hoped she wanted to hear.

  Her fingers fluttered to her throat. “I was hoping to perform to a bigger audience but your family will be fine.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry that I haven’t thanked you properly, but I am thankful you got me off that stage.”

  “You’re welcome and—”

  “Diego, darling.” A female voice drawled, interrupting them. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Come dance with me, I don’t want to be alone.”

  Lily turned to see a stunning woman wearing a dress that would fit an eight-year-old. Her gaze took in the perfect lipstick pout, perfect toned body, perfectly styled hair, perfect manicured nails complete with large breasts showcased, barely contained, in a shoestring bodice.

  “Diego.” The blonde sulked, trailing a finger down his arm, having perfected it to an art, as Lily took in the plump upturned lips and crafted mope.

  Obviously, this was the type of woman Diego fancied and she would be stupid to think he’d be interested in someone as stable, predictable, and level-headed as her. Men wanted women like the blonde, not some too-slim redhead, carrying suitcases of emotional baggage.

  The thought of Diego and the blonde together made her stomach churn, which was stupid, really. He’d probably bedded other women over the past four weeks, it’s not like he’d been waiting for her. Whereas she’d thought about him constantly over the past month, reliving every sensual moment of their night together over and over and over.

  The evening’s fun-meter plunged even further downward, dipping well into negative numbers.

  “Lily, this is Sonja. Sonja, Lily.” Sonja’s gaze didn’t falter from Diego.

  He turned to face Lily. “I’ll be in contact with you about Tuesday.”

  He leaned forward, his warm breath caressing her skin, making her shiver. “And you will tell me why you disappeared on me,” he whispered in her ear.