and still the discussions wore on, and all the time she’d watched the skin of his face pull progressively tighter across his bones, until the tendons in his neck had become taut and corded and stained red with tension and he’d looked like a volcano about to erupt.
And then Gus had excused himself, promising to be back, and before Holly could wonder what he’d gone off in search of, Franco had erupted. He’d slammed his fist on the table and leapt from his chair, his eyes wild and jaw rigid as finally he gave in to the temptation to blow. ‘A complete and utter waste of time,’ he snarled as he prowled before the fire like a lion cheated of its kill. ‘We’re getting nowhere,’ he said, his back to her as he raked fingers through his long hair. He spun around and pinned his cold, winter-grey eyes on her, and she was struck anew by his height and power and his ability to eat up the space around him and shrink it down till there was just him and the fire and a hot lick of flame she could almost feel on her skin. ‘What is your problem?’ he growled. It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation.
Vaguely she was aware of a phone ringing but then it stopped and she knew Gus must have picked it up in the study.
Franco was still staring at her, hostile eyes demanding an answer. Holly didn’t bother with a smile. While there was a certain satisfaction in knowing that she’d stymied this man’s smug expectations of walking out of here with exactly what he wanted, something told her that smiling would not go down well right now.
But that didn’t mean she had to cower.
‘Seems to me, I’m not the one with a problem.’
‘You think? Because you would have to be the most intransigent, uncooperative, stubborn woman I have ever met.’
‘Why, thank you.’
‘That wasn’t a compliment.’
She arched an eyebrow over one glacier-blue eye. ‘I take them where I can find them.’
He snorted and turned away. Little wonder. The way she looked in those oversize, drab work clothes, compliments were no doubt thin on the ground.
He strode past the fireplace. He needed this contract signed and he’d get it signed, come hell or high water, and he refused to be beaten by a woman who’d dug her heels in from the very start. But how to make her shift her position?
The old man was already in his pocket. He just had to sway her.
The old man …
And he spun back around, finding a new weapon in his arsenal, a new direction from which to attack now that the old man had left the room and they were alone. ‘Why are you so against this deal?’ he demanded. ‘Your grandfather is keen to do business. So why are you so adamantly opposed to doing a deal with Chatsfield?’
She crossed her arms over her chest, her body language confirming just how far closed was her mind, although the act of defiance also revealed something else—something as unexpected as the transformation in her features when she smiled. For there was shape under that shapeless Purman sweater. Curves. And the heat of his anger morphed into a different kind of heat as his body stirred in response. He willed the reaction away, as unlikely as it was unwanted, as she said, ‘We can do better.’
‘Financially?’ he challenged, his eyes back on hers, his focus back on track. ‘Not a chance.’
‘It may surprise you to learn that there’s more to life than money, Mr Chatsfield. We’re building up a prize-winning brand here at Purmans—a prestige brand. I don’t want to see that put at risk.’
‘So you’d turn down the best offer you’re ever likely to get, because you’re afraid?’
She was on her feet in an instant, her jaw rigid, her blue eyes defiant. ‘You say afraid. I say once bitten, twice shy. Do you think you’re the only one to see the value of our wines? Ten years ago someone else with big pockets tried to buy us out—he promised riches beyond our imagination too.’ He’d offered more besides that still made her ill to think about. ‘But when Gus finally turned him down, he did everything he could to ruin us. “Poorman’s Wines,” he labelled us, every chance he got, undermining all we’d built up, threatening relations with our best stockists and our most loyal clients alike.
‘It’s taken ten long years of rebuilding, Mr Chatsfield, and you blithely walk in here and expect us to get tangled up with a business that is more likely to feature in the gossip columns of the scandal sheets than the business pages? I don’t think so!’
She was flushed, her fists clenched tight at her sides and her eyes like braziers burning with cold blue flame and it was like he was seeing her for the first time.
She was magnificent.
And part of him wanted to goad her, to prod and needle her some more and see more of that passion that transformed this drab little mouse of a woman into a tigress that might have been fighting to protect her cubs.
Part of him wondered where else she might turn into a tigress and what it might be like to have that passion unleashed on him.
While the sane, logical part of him wondered if he’d gone mad. She was so very not his type of woman.
And he had a contract to get signed.
‘Don’t you think it strange that your grandfather doesn’t appear to share your concerns?’
She shook her head. ‘Gus is looking at the offer through a Vaseline lens. His view is distorted and blurred around the edges. He has this romantic notion of Chatsfield Hotels that was shaped some time last century when the chain had a reputation worth having. And as much as I respect my grandfather’s opinion, this time it’s proving not to be based on good business sense.’
‘The Chatsfield Hotel Group is hardly a “chain.” You make it sound like some two-star budget deal.’
‘Do I? Well, whatever you call it, unfortunately Pop’s missed just how far its reputation has slipped over the past few decades. He’s not quite up to speed on the latest trashy magazine gossip.’
‘Whereas you, on the other hand, are?’
Her eyes sparkled with ice-cold crystals. ‘I go to the dentist twice a year. Seems there isn’t an edition of the magazines published where one or more of the Chatsfield clan doesn’t feature front and centre.’
He shook his head, cursing the fact he belonged to a family that had, for as long as he could remember, insisted on playing out its sordid lives on the front page of every scandal sheet going. If his family was the issue, how the hell would he ever convince her to sign?
‘You treated this deal with contempt from the start. And by not being the slightest bit prepared to take heed of what your grandfather wants, you treat your grandfather and his wishes with contempt.’
‘Pop will get over the disappointment the moment he sees the next Chatsfield scandal unfold in all its gory, glossy details—I’ll make sure he does—and then he’ll be glad he never put pen to paper on this deal. Besides, it’s not like we have to sign. There are other offers on the table.’
‘Like ours? Like hell.’
‘No, they’re not like yours. They’re solid deals with reputable parties, parties we’ll be happy to pin the Purman name
