matter could be cleared up with a simple test. If you’d be so kind as to give me a DNA sample, I could get it processed immediately and we’d know the truth one way or the other.”
Amado’s eyes widened. “DNA? You want my blood?”
“It doesn’t have to be blood. In fact, a scraping from inside your mouth would be ideal.”
He clapped a large hand against one side of his face as if someone might attempt to gouge into it. “No.”
Clara reappeared, tugging a silver-haired man who stared at Susannah. Clara whispered so rapidly that Susannah couldn’t make out the words.
The dogs rose to their feet, sniffing tension in the air.
The older man strode up to Susannah and nodded a brusque greeting. “Young lady, I am Ignacio Alvarez and Amado is my son. Your business here is concluded. Allow me to escort you to your car.”
This man had brown eyes, like Amado, whereas Tarrant had blue. If Tarrant and Clara had an affair, surely Amado would have blue eyes?
“I…I,” Susannah groped for the right thing to say. If she went home without the DNA, Tarrant would be furious.
He’d probably fire her.
Or send her right back here.
Or both.
“Papá, I’m shocked at you.” Amado frowned and stepped between his father and Susannah. “This young woman may be mistaken in her quest, but she’s traveled all the way from New York and we’ve not even offered her refreshments.”
Susannah glanced from one man to the other. Amado was tall, over six foot—like Tarrant—whereas Ignacio was probably only five-eight or so. Still…
“Son, I really think that—”
Amado held up his hand. “Allow me to offer you a snack and some coffee. Or would you prefer wine?”
Susannah drew in a breath. “I’m a wine buyer for Hardcastle Enterprises.” Perhaps she could try to turn this into a business trip and come back to the more personal part later. “I’d love to sample your wines with a view to purchasing them for our restaurants.”
“Excellent. Mamá, please ask Rosa to prepare a bite for our guest. And a glass of the 2004 Malbec, to start.”
Susannah turned to find Ignacio staring at her, brows lowered. She jerked her gaze away. No surprise he was upset that she’d suggested his son wasn’t his.
Clara had vanished, possibly to slip poison into a glass of 2004 Malbec.
“Which varietals do you grow here at Tierra de Oro?” She put on a brave professional smile.
“Mostly Cabernet Sauvignon and Malbec, but we’re fortunate to have a variety of elevations and microclimates, so we experiment constantly with new vines.” Amado’s expression had smoothed. He looked comfortable again. “Why don’t we go outside and I’ll show you?”
He led her across the living room, past the glaring Ignacio, and out onto a stone patio with a view over the southern portion of the estate. Row upon row of leafy vines traced the gentle contours of the land, rising into the foothills of the majestic Andes. The lush growth gave no hint of the effort needed to tease productive plants from the relatively arid soil of the area.
“It’s a special place.”
The words drifted out of Susannah’s mouth without her really meaning to say them. The light had a strange quality that rather dazzled her. Bright but somehow soft.
Harsh, yet…loving.
Maybe all those hours of travel had addled her brain.
Amado stared across the rolling terrain. “Yes. It is a special place.” A frown gathered on his proud brow. “I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
Susannah froze. It occurred to her that if Amado was not Ignacio’s son, he might lose his right to run the estate.
Suddenly the afternoon sunlight seemed blinding.
“How long has your family been here?”
“Forever.” He smiled. “Well, that’s how it feels. The first Alvarez came here in 1868 from Cádiz and married a local girl. We’ve been here ever since.”
“I can see why. It’s beautiful.”
The sun glinted off the snowcapped mountains. Vast and solid, they stretched almost to the end of the earth.
Susannah had never lived in one place for more than three years. She couldn’t even blame her missionary parents anymore. She’d moved about on her own as an adult.
“It’s changed a lot since then, of course, but we do our best to protect and care for the land.”
“Have you always grown grapes here?” She was careful to imply he was part of the Alvarez family.
“There’ve always been a few hundred vines, mostly for family consumption. Most of these—” he swept his arm across the acres and acres of rows “—have been planted in the last ten to fifteen years since I convinced my father to switch from beef to viniculture.”
The door behind them opened and a tiny, ancient woman, who made Clara look positively youthful by comparison, emerged carrying a tray with two glasses of wine and a plate with some pastries.
“Thank you, Rosa.” Amado took the tray and placed it on the stone wall that ringed the patio. Susannah smiled at Rosa—who returned her gesture with a flinty stare.
Gulp.
“The 2004 Malbec is one of our bestsellers. It’s won several awards and brought us international attention. See what you think.” He held out the glass. His dark eyes shone with anticipation that revealed his pride in his wine.
Susannah took it and admired the dark ruby color of the liquid against the white peaks and pale blue of the sky. She sniffed the bouquet—young, fruity—perhaps too much so for her taste. Then she sipped. A tiny taste, just enough to test the mouth-feel and waken her taste buds to the experience.
Amado hovered over her in silent expectation.
“Delicious.” No lie. It was bold and wonderful.
His lopsided grin revealed those even, white teeth as he raised his glass and sipped. “I agree. It’s okay to be proud of one’s own child, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely.” She couldn’t help smiling. And sipping again. Enjoying the rich warm flavor of the sunbaked soil and the well-irrigated grapes grown in this stunning landscape. “How many cases do you have available for purchase?”
He threw back his head and laughed, giving her a lingering vision of his bronzed neck, muscles flexed, under the creamy-white collar of his shirt. “Getting down to business so soon? I’ve heard that you Americans don’t like to waste time. They weren’t kidding.”
Susannah
