The Seductive One Page 6

  “Sure. What about their temperament?” Nic asked. “I run a winery and my dog will be free to roam a large area, but he’ll have to interact with people. Is that a problem?”

  “Not at all. Goldens are known for their friendly personalities. I breed family pets here, so I choose pairs that are good with children and not excitable.”

  Brenna tapped the gate. “Can I go in?”

  “Help yourself.”

  She stepped into the pen and was instantly surrounded by eight excited puppies. Nic watched as she sank onto the grass and held out her arms. The fur balls climbed over her legs, scrambled up her chest, and stood on hind legs to nibble on her hair. She cuddled them close, laughing when they swiped at her mouth with doggy kisses.

  “Tell me about their bloodlines,” Nic said.

  “Their great-grandfather was the first champion I raised,” Sara told him. “He was a beautiful, gentle dog.”

  She continued to speak, but Nic only half listened. He found himself caught up in watching Brenna with the puppies.

  Tiny paws messed up her sleek hairstyle. Mud prints stained her shirt and shorts. High-pitched yips of excitement mingled with her laughter.

  “You are all too cute,” she cooed and earned a doggy kiss.

  A puppy ducked under her bent leg, drawing Nic’s attention to the curve of her calf and the exposed length of thigh. She’d always been curvy in a way that he found sexy as hell. That hadn’t changed. His gaze slipped from her thigh to her breasts.

  He stiffened as he flashed back to the first time he’d seen her breasts. He’d nearly lost it when she pulled off her shirt for him and had unfastened her bra. He’d seen naked women before, but no one like her. For the first time in his life, he knew why the word lush had been invented.

  At first he hadn’t been able to touch. He’d been too caught up in looking. Then he’d been unable to resist what she’d offered. Full, sweet-tasting with dark nipples that tightened at his every touch. He’d filled his hands with her sensitive curves, exploring every inch of skin, licking and sucking until she’d writhed against him and they’d both been so hot that they’d—

  Jesus. He jerked himself back to the present. Brenna still played with the puppies, Sara continued to talk about bloodlines, and he was as hard as a rock.

  He shifted so that a fence post concealed his condition and did his best to think about mundane things, like dog training and what kind of leash he was going to have to buy.

  He forced himself to pay attention to Sara and started asking dog-care questions. Brenna looked up, a puppy in each arm.

  “How on earth do you pick?” she asked. “They’re all so adorable.”

  Sara unlocked the gate. “He’ll have to go in and spend some time with them.”

  Brenna grinned. She set one of the puppies down and patted the ground. “Come on, Nic. The grass stains will wash out.”

  He stepped into the pen and sat next to her. Instantly several puppies clamored over her to get to him. They sniffed and barked and licked his palms and bit his fingers. When he picked one up, he felt its pudgy belly as it wiggled close and swiped at his face with a warm tongue.

  “They like you,” Brenna said.

  “I’m a likable kind of guy.”

  “Maybe, but I doubt puppies are wildly discerning. They just want attention.”

  One puppy, a light beige-colored fur ball, dived for his boots and wrestled with the shoelace. The pup pulled the bow loose and tried to run with the lace in its mouth. It got up a good head of steam for maybe eight inches, then came to a sudden stop when the lace tightened.

  Unprepared for the sudden change in momentum, the puppy tumbled onto its back and looked at Nic in surprise, as if asking what had just happened. Nic scooped him up in his arms.

  “You think you can take me?” he asked the big-eyed fluff ball.

  The dog woofed in agreement, wiggled to get closer, and tried to lick his face.

  “Careful,” Brenna warned. “You might find the puppy doing the picking rather than the other way around.”

  Even as she spoke, the pup cuddled close to Nic’s chest, rested its head on his shoulder, and closed its eyes.

  Nic knew he was a regular kind of guy. He was into sports, rode a motorcycle, and ran a successful corporation worth half a billion dollars. There was no way fifteen pounds of puppy was going to get to him.

  But the warm weight felt surprisingly comfortable. Maybe Maggie had been right—maybe he did need something more in his life, even if it was just a dog.

  “Tell me about this one, Sara,” he said, indicating the puppy in his arms and avoiding Brenna’s knowing smile.

  “He’s going to be a big guy. Just look at those paws. He’s social and outgoing. A little stubborn.”

  “Aren’t most males?” Brenna asked.

  Sara held up her hands. “I don’t have those kinds of conversations with clients,” she said cheerfully. “You two can argue about that on the way home.”

  They probably would, Nic thought. Along with other things. Brenna had always been opinionated, and she wasn’t afraid to stand up for what she believed. She also didn’t mind admitting when she was wrong. Rather that was how she’d been ten years ago. He couldn’t speak to who she was now.

  He glanced at the puppy asleep in his arms. “I’ll take him.”

  • • •

  Thirty minutes later they were back in Nic’s Land Rover with a large box of supplies in the back and a still-drowsy puppy on a blanket on Brenna’s lap.

  “We can put him in the carrier,” Nic said as he started the engine.

  She stroked the puppy’s soft fur and shook her head. “I like holding him. As long as you don’t mind.”

  Nic shrugged. She supposed the message was that simple homey things like dogs didn’t get to him, but she’d seen the expression on his face when the puppy had fallen asleep on his chest. He’d felt a twinge of emotion.

  She guessed he would rather eat glass than admit it, which was fine with her. She wasn’t going to say anything. Well, not very much.

  “Why a dog?” she asked.

  “I’ve been thinking about getting one for a while, but my travel schedule made the idea impractical. I recently hired a new sales manager. He’ll take over most of the accounts and do the bulk of the traveling.”

  “Must be nice,” she said. “What will you do in your free time?”

  “I have some new projects. They’ll keep me busy. Not to mention training my new dog.”

  “Training, huh? Probably to attack strangers on sight. I’ll warn my family members to stay clear of Giovanni land. I don’t want my seventy-something grandfather coming home with a dog bite.”

  “Rufus won’t be biting anyone.”

  She stared at him. “You’ve got to be kidding. Rufus? You’d name your poor dog Rufus?”

  “Sure. What’s wrong with it?”

  “Everything. It’s not a cute puppy name.”

  “He won’t be a cute puppy for long.”

  She cupped the dog’s face in her hand. “Look at those big eyes, that little black nose. Can you really call this sweetie Rufus? Think of the emotional pain from the other dogs in the neighborhood calling him Rufus the Dufus.”

  Nic shook his head. “You’ve been out in the sun too long, Brenna. The other dogs in the neighborhood won’t be calling him anything because dogs can’t talk.”

  “Not to us. But they can probably talk to each other. They’ll tease him. He needs a more dignified name. Or at least something fun.”

  Nic made a noise in his throat that wasn’t exactly a growl, but darned close. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Anything but Rufus. How about Charlie, Marvin, Jack.”

  “Marvin?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m brainstorming. You can’t be critical and expect the creative process to work.”

  “I never thought that naming a dog would be considered creative.”

  “It’s important. This is a name
he’ll carry for the rest of his life. It will say something about who he is. He’ll either live up or down to his name.”

  He glanced at the sleeping puppy in her lap. “How about Max?”

  She picked up a massive paw and held it in her hand. Hard to believe this little guy would grow into those feet, but he would. “Max works for me.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll call him.”

  As he spoke, Nic returned his attention to the road. Brenna stayed completely still, barely able to breathe. She knew that Nic hadn’t meant the statement the way he’d said it. She was reading something into his words that didn’t belong there. They had a business relationship now, nothing more. She’d learned her lesson about giving her heart and soul to a man and even if she was ever going to take that chance again, it wouldn’t be with Nic. Loving him had been a disaster…for both of them.

  But the implied connection in “that’s what we’ll call him” unnerved her. She thought about the afternoon they’d just spent together and realized how easily they’d fallen into familiar patterns. As if they’d always been friends. As if the years apart hadn’t happened. As if she hadn’t betrayed him.

  Old news, she told herself. For both of them. Nic had gotten over her, just like she’d gotten over him. They were business partners now. Nothing more. She couldn’t afford for them to be anything more.

  5

  When they arrived back at Wild Sea Vineyards, Brenna figured she should leave, but Nic surprised her by asking if she could stick around for a little longer.

  “I have a few questions about how you’re going to make things work,” he said.

  She eyed him suspiciously. “You’re not going to change your mind about the loan, are you?”

  He grinned. “I already said yes. I don’t go back on my word. You’ll have the papers in the morning.”

  Being around Nic was hardly tough duty, and seeing as she already had a crush on Max and little to do back at the hacienda, with the exception of picking grapes or arguing with her grandfather, she agreed.

  She helped him carry puppy supplies into the main house. The Marcelli hacienda was a huge Spanish-style structure, but the Giovanni home was more a one-story ranch style, with additions sprawling at both ends. Years ago, when Nic’s grandfather had been out of town, she’d once spent the night. She still remembered what every room looked like and how many places they’d made love.

  They walked through a utility room into a large remodeled kitchen.

  “Where are you going to keep him?” she asked.

  “There’s an old storage room where he can sleep.”

  “A storage room? Is it heated? Does it have a window? Are you going to keep him locked up all the time?”

  Nic shook his head. “You always assume I’m the bad guy. Maybe you’d like to check out Max’s prison cell before complaining.”

  “He’s just a baby. He’s going to miss his mother and siblings. He’ll probably cry all night. You should let him sleep with you.”

  “Not on a bet. He’s little now, but soon enough he’ll be full-grown. I’m not sharing my bed with an eighty-pound dog.”

  Brenna had the brief thought that she could offer to share Nic’s bed, but she pushed the image of them together in a tangle of sheets from her mind and prepared herself to be appalled by Max’s new home.

  She should have known better, she thought, feeling more than a little foolish when she saw the “storage room.” Maybe it had once been home to an assortment of boxes and pieces of furniture, but it was currently puppy paradise.

  Indoor/outdoor carpeting covered the floor. Two big windows let in sunlight, while an alcove provided a quiet place for a big, cushy bed lined in what looked like sheepskin. Several chew toys and a bowl of water stood by the door. In the opposite corner was a large plastic container about six inches high and lined with newspaper. Sara had told them the puppies had been trained to use a “doggie litter box” in the night.

  “I plan to feed him in the utility room. Or is that too much like torture? Maybe I should set a place for him at the table. But without a thumb, he’s going to find using silverware a real bitch.”

  Brenna put the dog carrier in the closet and hung the leash and harness on a hook by the door. “Okay. It’s a great room.”

  “Uh-huh.” Nic put Max into the bed. The puppy stirred, then went back to sleep. “That would make me right and you…” He paused expectantly.

  She rolled her eyes. “Wrong. Okay? You were right and I was wrong.”

  He walked over and draped an arm around her shoulders. “I love it when you say that.”

  The second his hand settled on her shoulder, heat exploded in her body. It was like being inside of a flare. One second there was nothing, then an audible rush, followed by a bright light and instant flames. She wanted to inch closer and have him touch her in more places. She wanted to run for cover.

  Fortunately she picked a more rational response than either of those choices. She stepped to the window and looked out at the view.

  “You have a nice grassy area back here. Max will like that.”

  “I have something you’ll like more. Come see.”

  For half a second she thought he was talking about something, well, sexual. Her gaze involuntarily dropped to his crotch. The second she realized what she was doing, she jerked her head back and prayed that the heat of her face wouldn’t manifest itself in a blush.

  “Can you be more specific?” she asked from her place by the window.

  “When are you going to learn to trust me?”

  “When little wine bottles grow out of grapevines.”

  “It’s not a bad thing, I swear.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He stepped out of Max’s room. “Come on. It will be worth it.”

  She hesitated, then slowly followed.

  “Talk to me about barrels,” he said when she’d caught up with him. They walked through the kitchen and back outside. “How are you going to get them?”

  She needed a beat to make the conversational switch back to business. “I have some on order. I’ve also been calling around. A few people ordered too many and they’re happy to sell the extra.”

  Good wine barrels cost several hundred dollars each. They had a limited lifespan and constantly needed to be replaced. Empty barrels invited mold and rot, so wine makers preferred to keep them full at all times. The trick was that production rates varied from year to year, so it was a constant guessing game to have the exact number around for any given vintage.

  “Where will you be storing them?”

  “Not at Marcelli Wines,” she said. “I haven’t rented space yet. I didn’t want to make any commitments until I was sure I had the financial backing.”

  He’d led them to the winery. Several buildings created a small complex. The center building was the largest, and a recent addition. Brenna stared enviously at the new building, a state-of-the-art storage facility with several temperature-controlled rooms. Special shelves had been designed and installed to allow for easy access to any barrel. A computer kept track of what inventory was where. Everyone in the valley had heard about Nic’s new facility. She’d even had a talk with the contractor and had gotten a bid on a smaller version for Marcelli Wines. Her grandfather had said it was a waste of money.

  “I don’t suppose you have any extra room in there,” she said wistfully.

  “Sorry, no. But I do have this.”

  He crossed to one of the smaller buildings. She followed him inside and nearly fainted.

  The structure was the size of a barn, with several walls dividing the space into open rooms and a loft overhead. Empty racks for stacking barrels stood lined up in rows. Large silver ducts cut across the ceiling and down the walls, providing rudimentary temperature control from the industrial-sized heater and air conditioner outside.

  Brenna instantly began calculating capacity. If Nic would rent her this space, she would be able to keep all her wines in one location. Plus the Giovanni wine
ry was within easy distance of her day job. She’d imagined having to drive across the valley to three or four different locations.

  “How much?” she asked. “I’m willing to sign a two-year lease. That should lower the price.”

  “You’re borrowing money from me only to turn around and pay me rent with it?” He shook his head. “We’ll fold the cost into the loan.”

  Brenna swallowed hard. He was already delaying payments for two years. With the accumulation of interest and the deferred rent, she was racking up some serious charges. If she failed…

  Don’t think about it, she told herself. Success was the only option. When she’d turned Four Sisters into a viable label, Nic couldn’t touch her. She only needed two years, three tops.

  “Until then I owe my soul to the company store,” she murmured.

  “So tell me no.”

  She glanced at the open room. Plain old-fashioned lust overrode common sense. For once the feeling wasn’t about Nic’s body or what he could do to hers. Instead she wanted this for her wine.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve recently replaced your grape-processing equipment.”

  “As a matter of fact, I have.”

  • • •

  Brenna tried not to make moany noises when she saw the collection of conveyor belts and pressing equipment. Yes it was old and would probably break down every fifteen minutes, but it wasn’t being used by someone trying to get their own grapes pressed as soon as possible. She could work all night and not have to worry about being in the way.

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” she said when Nic ushered her back outside. “You’re doing so much more than I could have hoped for. I may have to give you two cases of wine.”

  “Maybe I’ll have you create a blend for me instead.”

  “A Marcelli working on Giovanni wines? Wouldn’t the heavens crack open?”

  “Probably.”

  She squinted slightly into the sun and saw that it was much lower in the horizon than she would have thought.

  “I should be heading back,” she said. “I need to make an appearance so no one gets suspicious, and you have to feed Max.”