She’d blame the wine, but as an experienced taster she knew how to sip tiny amounts that couldn’t possibly get her inebriated.
At least she thought she did.
Amado poured Chardonnay into a glass. The pale liquid sparkled in the afternoon sun streaming in through the tall windows.
She inhaled then tasted. Flavor tingled across her tongue and caressed her throat with its smooth, golden warmth.
Like Amado, the wines seemed to be getting more delicious by the minute.
“Tierra de Oro—is there real gold in the earth around here?” She set the glass back on the table.
“I don’t think so. If there ever was, it’s long gone. The only gold around at Tierra de Oro is the kind stored in bottles.” He caressed a stemmed glass of pale liquid between finger and thumb.
Susannah’s belly shivered in response.
“I enjoy this kind of gold much more than the metal.”
“It costs less per ounce but gives more pleasure.” Amado’s smile revealed his white teeth.
Why did he have to be so great-looking?
And she was entranced by the way he treated the wine like a sacred liquid. He handled the bottles as if they were sentient—firm yet gentle.
The way he might handle her if he removed her dress and layered kisses over her breasts and belly.
Susannah sat upright as a rush of heat swept through her. “It’s getting late. I’d better go to my hotel.”
Amado frowned. “What hotel?”
“Any hotel.” She hadn’t booked a room, as she wasn’t sure if she’d have to stay locally, or if she could just head back to the city.
Apparently, she’d have to stick around for one more night to talk him into giving the DNA sample. What if he balked tomorrow, as well?
“There are no hotels here.”
She groaned. The vineyard was over two hours from Mendoza. If she returned there for the night, she’d have to drive back here in the morning to resume her campaign.
“Where do people usually stay?”
He blinked. Innocent. “Here.”
“At the winery?”
“In my house.” He picked up a three-year-old Cabernet. The tapered glass bottle looked slender and delicate in his big hands.
She could picture those broad palms and long fingers spanning the dip of her waist. “I’d prefer a hotel.”
He shrugged. “As I said. There isn’t one. This is the country, not a tourist destination.”
His polite smile warred with the mischievous gleam in his dark eyes. “And Rosa will cook you a very fine dinner.”
“But what about your parents? They can’t wait for me to leave.”
“Don’t worry about them. They have their own house and I’ve made my feelings clear. They won’t interfere again.” His expression softened. “You’ll find my home quite comfortable. You’re the only one here, so you can have your pick of the rooms. In the morning, we can conclude our business.”
Perhaps he’d give her what she wanted if she stayed overnight. And it wasn’t like she had anywhere else to go.
“It looks like I’m at your mercy. I mean, thanks for your hospitality.”
He laughed. She couldn’t help smiling. Truth be told, she didn’t mind staying. Not because she had any intention of personally extracting Amado’s DNA, but because everything about Tierra de Oro was so enchanting. The breathtaking views, the lush vines, the comfortable well-kept buildings.
And the wine had mellowed her out something wicked. She wasn’t even sure she should drive. Not to mention that she still had no gas.
And she couldn’t leave without his DNA.
“My offer still stands.”
“Which offer was that?”
He leveled a challenging gaze at her. “Whichever one you prefer.”
Susannah stowed her bag in a guest bedroom, committing herself to stay the night, one way or another.
As promised, dinner was sensational. A classic Argentine meal with locally raised steaks, fresh-picked vegetables and glass after glass of Amado’s magnificent wines.
Silent and catlike, Rosa served their food in the grand dining room. Instead of family portraits, the walls were lined with oil paintings of massive, rectangular-shaped bulls, each frame adorned with a gold nameplate.
“I guess someone loved cows.”
“My great grandfather. My grandfather. And my father.” Amado sipped his wine. “Tierra de Oro was known throughout Argentina for its breeding stock.”
“Do you still breed them?”
“My father does, but it’s a hobby at this point. Not profitable. That’s why I started the vineyard.”
“You?”
“Yes.” He looked at her quizzically. “Why are you surprised?”
“Well, you’re only thirty.” She blanched when she realized she’d assumed that the research was correct and he was in fact Tarrant’s son. “Aren’t you?”
“As it happens, I am thirty. But I was fooling around in the fields and growing things by the time I was eight. By age eleven, I’d hybridized a Syrah that got people talking. My neighbor Santos taught me a lot. He’s ninety now and one of the true geniuses of winemaking. He helped me persuade my father to let me plant grapes in our pastures. By the time I was eighteen, we’d planted seventy hectares of vines.” He nodded at her glass. “You’re drinking their fruit now.”
“So, you skipped right over watching Power Rangers and Real World TV shows.”
Amado smiled. “When the TV broke, no one cared—except Rosa. She missed her telenovelas.”
“Thank God your father finally came to his senses and bought a satellite dish.” The silvery voice made Susannah whip her head around. Rosa stood right behind her. A stern expression still tightened her inscrutable and impossibly ancient face.
Amado laughed. “Now she’s addicted to CNN broadcasts.”
She clucked her tongue.
“Someone’s got to keep the Alvarez family in touch with the modern world. Otherwise, all you’d do is fondle grapes and stick your hands up a cow’s backside.”
Susannah almost spewed her wine and Amado bent his head in laughter.
Rosa
