to her computer. She started to type, then stopped as she leaned her head against the chair-back. “First you threaten to drive my winery into the ground. Then you threaten to drive me insane. To think Max used to say how good you’d be for this place.”
“There’s a simple solution, you know.”
“It’s not simple at all.” She moved her chair slightly, turning her profile his way. Her eyes were closed, and her throat worked as she rubbed her hands over her face.
“It’s a lot easier than you’re making it, Bren. You don’t want me in your business, and you know it. Sign off on the sale and I’m gone.”
“I’ve already said no. Come up with a new idea.”
Lord, the woman was stubborn. “There are no other ideas.”
“You’re going to tell me that the great Jack Garrett doesn’t have a Plan B?”
He swirled the drink in his glass. “I don’t need a Plan B.”
Brenna turned to face him again, and her voice turned conciliatory for a change. “Max wanted Amante Verano kept as a small family business. He didn’t want outsiders involved.”
“And what, exactly, are you?”
Brenna pulled back as if she’d been hit, and he regretted the harshness of his words.
“That’s unfair, Jack. We were a family, and this is a family business.”
“Brenna—”
She held up a hand. “Wait. Just—Just—” She took another deep breath and faced him across the expanse of Max’s desk. “I don’t want to fight any more. Especially not with you.”
“Then don’t fight me. Neither of us wants to be in this situation.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it and chewed on her bottom lip for a moment while she thought. “You’re right, you know. I don’t want you around anymore than you want to be here. But…” She took a deep breath. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she turned to meet his eyes. “I need you.”
The desire that slammed into him with those three simple words nearly caused him to drop his glass. Oh, part of him knew she was still talking about the damn winery, but his body was reacting to that throaty whisper—she’d whispered those words in his ear countless times as she’d wrapped herself around him.
Need. She’d always referred to him as a need. He’d nearly forgotten, but the response of his body proved those six months they’d had weren’t as deeply buried as he’d thought. He shifted in his chair, attempting to bring the reaction under control.
Brenna seemed not to notice. “Max was the brains behind the business. I’m sure you know that. And I could learn, but Amante Verano would suffer in the meantime. I know that’s why Max put us in this partnership—he always said the Walsh women made great wine, but they needed Garrett men to make it profitable.” She folded her hands in her lap, squeezing her fingers together as she talked. “It took me a while to figure out what he meant—beyond the MBA-approved business model, at least. The Garrett name opens a lot of doors.”
“You should know that from experience. You were a Garrett for a short while.”
She paled a bit at the reminder. “Don’t go there, Jack. What I mean is that as long as there’s a Garrett behind Amante Verano I can do business. Get loans to expand, for example. A small winery is a bank’s nightmare—unless there’s a Garrett on the books, of course, and then we’re golden. I just need you to back me—in name, if not spirit—for a few years. That’s all I’m asking.”
“You ask a lot.”
“Why? How? You don’t have to do anything.”
He just looked at her.
She nodded. “Except deal with me. And you hate that more than anything else.”
He’d never heard Brenna sound so flat, so lifeless. He’d almost prefer her anger to that toneless resignation. “I don’t hate you, Bren. But I’m not going to be your partner either.”
She cocked her head. “Once bitten?” she challenged.
“I’m not afraid of your bite.” In fact, the thought of her teeth on his skin brought back a slew of sensual memories. Unwilling to circle this topic again or battle with his body any longer, he stood. “Decide what you’re going to do. I’ll leave the sale paperwork in the kitchen.”
Brenna’s jaw dropped at his words, then she spun her chair back to her computer. He heard her mumble something under her breath as he turned to leave.
He doubted it was a compliment.
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