family. But you are, and it’s not happening.”
Desperation surged through her. She rested her elbows on the bar, locked her gaze on his and went for the jugular. “You backed the wrong horse, Gabe. You chose the wrong agency and now you’re in too deep. Executing two massive back-to-back launch events in Napa and New York with this little prep time is an almost suicidal assignment. There are only two PR people besides myself in this country who are even capable of pulling it off. One,” she emphasized, “is presently sailing up the Nile with his wife. I know because I just got a postcard from him. The second is in Houston doing an event with five extra staff she just hired to make it happen. You will not,” she pronounced, “be getting any personal service there.”
He slid a glass of wine across the bar to her, his broad shoulders rising in a dismissive shrug. “We’ll figure it out. I’m not breaking my rule.”
Fire singed her veins. There were a few things Alex was sure of in life. One was the fact that no one was better at their job than she was. Hands down. He needed her. “Do you want your launches to fail?” she demanded. “You’ve spent eight years, eight years getting De Campo to this point in Napa, Gabe. Eight years gaining the respect you deserve for your Californian vintages. You have one chance to make a first impression with this wine. I can make sure it’s the launch of the year.”
He set his glass down and cursed under his breath. Alex stared at him. She had never, ever heard Gabe say that word.
“Let me help you,” she murmured, reaching out and laying her hand on his forearm. “I can do this.”
A current of electricity zigzagged its way from her palm to her stomach. She pulled her hand away and tucked it under her thigh. It was always this way between them, a gigantic pulse-fluttering awareness of each other that defied reason.
“You didn’t think it was a really bad idea jumping on a plane before you had any idea if I was going to take you on?” Gabe muttered with a dark stare that was equal parts frustration and something else entirely.
“Katya hired me. As in gave me the job, Gabe.”
“I can unhire you.”
“You wouldn’t.”
He shrugged. “You know it’s a bad idea.”
“It’s fine.” She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. “I’ll stay out of your way. I’ll be so invisible you won’t even know I’m there.”
“That,” he murmured, wry humor flashing in his eyes, “is a physical impossibility for you. You’re like a fire-engine-red poppy in a sea of Tuscan green.”
“Gabe—”
He held up a hand, his gaze flicking over her shoulder. “I need to talk to a couple of people, then I have a ton of work to do at home. Sit here, wait for me and I’ll drive you back to your hotel. We can talk on the way.”
She wanted to retort she wasn’t a dog, that she didn’t take orders, but this was the part where she needed to prove he could work with her.
“Fine,” she murmured sweetly. “Here I sit, waiting for you...”
He narrowed his gaze on her face, looked as if he was about to say something, then shook his head and stood. “Ten minutes.”
She watched his tall, imposing figure cut through the crowd. Holy hell, Katya. Really?
The chicly dressed West Coast crowd buzzed around her, drawn to the shining mahogany centerpiece of a bar like moths to a flame. She settled back on the stool, enjoying the relaxed, chilled-out vibe that was so far from the New York scene she was used to, it was like night and day. Sipped her wine and wondered how to approach this Gabe she wasn’t familiar with. He rarely got into a mood, he was iron man, the man most likely to walk through a burning building unscathed, his Armani suit intact. Yet tonight he was antagonized, edgy. Harder to predict.
The only thing to do was stick to the end goal, she told herself. Get the job. She hadn’t spent the last eight years slugging it out in a big, prestigious Manhattan PR firm to go back to working fourteen-hour days on brands that bored her to tears. Functioning like a corporate robot to pad someone else’s bottom line. Anderson Communications was hers. Her ticket to complete financial independence and security. She was not going to fail.
For her, freedom was everything. Misplaced testosterone had no part in it when her future was on the line.
She ran her gaze over the crowded bar with a restless energy that contrasted with the easy vibe. Continued cataloging the attributes of her target audience. A fortysomething salt-and-pepper male on the other side of the bar caught her eye.
It couldn’t be.
It was.
The one man she’d truly hoped never to see again.
Her heart stopped in her chest. Tall, lean and sophisticated in a dark gray designer suit, chatting to a quirkily beautiful blonde, he looked exactly the same. Except, now he had the gray where before he hadn’t and there were visible lines around his eyes when he smiled. That smile he knew dropped a woman at fifty paces.
It had her.
She whipped around on the stool, but not before he saw her. The shock on his face rocketed through her, made her dizzy, disoriented. She got unsteadily to her feet and walked blindly through the crowd, destination undetermined, anywhere that was far, far away from him. The faces around her blurred into a haze of polite laughter and bright lights. Of course Jordan would be here tonight. He was the CEO of the biggest spirits company in the U.S. Everyone who was anyone in the wine industry was here....
Why hadn’t she anticipated it?
A hand came down on her shoulder.
“Alex.”
She spun around, her heart jump-starting and racing a mile a minute. Jordan Lane. Her former client. The man she’d made the biggest mistake of her life with.
The man she’d loved and hated in equal measure.
“Jordan.” She forced the words past her constricted throat. “What a surprise.”
His gaze narrowed on her face as if to say he knew she’d seen him, but he played the game, capturing her hand in a deliberate gesture and brushing his lips across her knuckles. “You look beautiful. Age agrees with you.”
Meaning she’d been twenty-two when she’d met him and far too unsophisticated to ever have been able to handle a man like him. Heat roared inside of her, dark and all consuming. She pulled her hand back and pressed the trembling appendage to her side. He had used her inexperience to play her like a bow, to mold her into what he’d desired.
The charm was still there, but the predatory instinct in those startling blue eyes was clearly visible to her now. How had she not seen it before?
“How about,” she suggested icily, “we pretend I took that as a compliment and you go back to your flirtation? At least she doesn’t look half your age.”
His eyes darkened to the wintry color of the Hudson River on a stormy day. “How about we have a drink and talk about it?”
“No.
