and sighed. If this wasn’t a disaster, she didn’t want to know what was. Amante Verano had always been the one stable pillar in her life, her haven, and now even that foundation was shaking. She needed some time to think. And food.
Her stomach was growling loudly by the time she’d dried off and slid into a clean pair of pajamas, so she left her hair to dry naturally and padded to the kitchen in search of something to eat.
Dianne, bless her, had left a plate in the fridge for her, and in less time than it took for her to pour a glass of wine her dinner was ready. She took her plate to the counter and grabbed the TV remote.
Just as she took the first bite Jack walked in, causing her to choke on Dianne’s homemade quiche.
A black sleeveless T-shirt exposed shoulder and arm muscles covered in a sheen of sweat. Gym shorts rode low on his hips, giving her a glimpse of tight abs between the hem of the shirt and the waistband as he reached into the cupboard for a glass and then filled it with water. Powerful thighs. Defined calves.
Mercy.
Oh, she remembered his body all too well—and far too frequently—but to have it displayed for her in reality had her coughing painfully as her mouth went dry and it became hard to chew. A look of concern crossed Jack’s face and he reached for her.
She did not need him touching her. Even if it was for the Heimlich maneuver. Waving him away, she swallowed with difficulty.
Jack offered her his water, and she waved that away as well; the thought of sharing his glass just seemed too familiar and intimate. She reached for her own glass, but the normally smooth wine burned her throat on the way down. She coughed one last time and willed herself under control.
It didn’t quite work, but at least she wasn’t choking now. She forced her eyes back to his face. “I see you found Max’s gym.”
“I did. Nice set-up you’ve got in there.” Jack’s eyebrows went up as he belatedly noted her pajamas, and Brenna felt a flush rise on her neck. Get real. They’re just pajamas. Boring ones at that. Just eat.
“Max seemed to think we needed one, but I never have understood why.” Stab, lift, bite, chew, swallow. “We tend to get our exercise the old-fashioned way around here.”
Don’t stare, for God’s sake.
“I remember.”
Jack leaned against the other side of the counter, and she could feel those blue eyes boring into her. She concentrated on eating, ignoring the impulse to take her plate to her room. The weight of his stare, though, got to be too much. “Must you watch me eat?”
“You’re a bit hostile tonight.” Calmly enough to make her even more jumpy, Jack lifted his glass and drank.
Mirroring his calm, she placed her fork carefully on her plate. “You expected something different?” She latched on to the easiest excuse, the one that was much easier to deal with. “You come storming out here, telling me you want to sell out—without any discussion at all—and I’m supposed to be happy about it? Get real, Jack.”
A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face and he swiped at it, giving her another quick glimpse of his abs as his shirt rose. A familiar heat settled low in her belly. “You want reality? Good. We can skip past all the small talk and get straight down to business.”
His tone doused the heat nicely. Brenna straightened her spine and tried to pretend she was wearing more than a pair of thin cotton pajamas. “Business. Excellent. As you saw, we have an early set of grapes coming in—a hybrid vine Max and Ted have been babying along for the last couple of years. I’m going to make an excellent, yet deceptively simple white from them, and it’s going to put Amante Verano on the map.” She stood and moved around the counter, put her plate into the dishwasher. “I’ll be sure to let you know when it’s ready to taste.”
Jack hadn’t moved, and getting to the dishwasher had put her in close proximity to him. So close she caught his scent, reigniting that heat again. She tried to breathe shallowly through her mouth as she closed the machine and stood to face him.
“Brenna, don’t.”
Feigning innocence, she met his eyes. “Don’t what? Talk business?”
He crossed his arms across his chest casually, looking completely unruffled—to someone who didn’t know him, at least. She, however, knew better, and his next words confirmed it. “I could not care less what you’re doing with those grapes—or any of the grapes. I just want you to sign off on the sale.”
“In case I was unclear earlier, I’ll sign off when hell freezes over. You’re not selling half of this place to some stranger.”
In that same even tone—the one that meant he was only barely keeping his frustration with her in check—he asked, “Then what do you want, Brenna?”
“I want you to go back to San Francisco. Go run your empire and leave Amante Verano—” and me, she added silently “—alone.” The words came out in a rush, and she took a deep breath to stem the flow. “You can be a silent partner—just let us do our thing, and we’ll mail you a check for your share of the profits.”
“Profits?” He laughed, a mean humorless sound that stabbed her. “This place is nothing but a money pit. Without Max’s bankroll—”
“We had a couple of lean years, yes, but we’re about to turn a corner. Do you have any idea how long it takes for a winery to become profitable? Years, Jack. We’re nearly there, ahead of all our predictions.”
“I’ve seen your books, Bren.”
Bren. The nickname caught her off-guard, throwing her momentarily. “Then you know what I’m saying is true.”
“It doesn’t matter. How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want a winery?”
Her frustration was starting to build, and she wished she had the ability to control it like Jack. “It’s just a winery, for God’s sake, not a brothel.”
He snorted. “No, brothels are profitable.”
“And so are wineries. You just have to be patient. Not that you’d have any idea what that concept is like,” she added under her breath.
“Brenna…” Impatience tinged his voice, and the muscle in his jaw was working again.
Enough defense. Time to take offense. “Who’s being hostile now?”
“If I’m hostile, it’s only because you’re being completely unreasonable. Again.”
Talk about a time warp. Less than a day and they were already settling back into their fighting stances. Oh, she’d love to throw something at him. “Don’t start.”
His fingers tightened around his biceps. “I’d love to finish, actually.”
She took a step back. “Why are you so hot to sell? This is Max’s legacy.”
“Max’s legacy is Garrett Properties.”
There
