Indoor/outdoor carpeting covered the floor. Two big windows let in sunlight, while an alcove provided a quiet place for a big, cushy bed lined in what looked like sheepskin. Several chew toys and a bowl of water stood by the door. In the opposite corner was a large plastic container about six inches high and lined with newspaper. Sara had told them the puppies had been trained to use a “doggie litter box” in the night.
“I plan to feed him in the utility room. Or is that too much like torture? Maybe I should set a place for him at the table. But without a thumb, he’s going to find using silverware a real bitch.”
Brenna put the dog carrier in the closet and hung the leash and harness on a hook by the door. “Okay. It’s a great room.”
“Uh-huh.” Nic put Max into the bed. The puppy stirred, then went back to sleep. “That would make me right and you…” He paused expectantly.
She rolled her eyes. “Wrong. Okay? You were right and I was wrong.”
He walked over and draped an arm around her shoulders. “I love it when you say that.”
The second his hand settled on her shoulder, heat exploded in her body. It was like being inside of a flare. One second there was nothing, then an audible rush, followed by a bright light and instant flames. She wanted to inch closer and have him touch her in more places. She wanted to run for cover.
Fortunately she picked a more rational response than either of those choices. She stepped to the window and looked out at the view.
“You have a nice grassy area back here. Max will like that.”
“I have something you’ll like more. Come see.”
For half a second she thought he was talking about something, well, sexual. Her gaze involuntarily dropped to his crotch. The second she realized what she was doing, she jerked her head back and prayed that the heat of her face wouldn’t manifest itself in a blush.
“Can you be more specific?” she asked from her place by the window.
“When are you going to learn to trust me?”
“When little wine bottles grow out of grapevines.”
“It’s not a bad thing, I swear.”
“Uh-huh.”
He stepped out of Max’s room. “Come on. It will be worth it.”
She hesitated, then slowly followed.
“Talk to me about barrels,” he said when she’d caught up with him. They walked through the kitchen and back outside. “How are you going to get them?”
She needed a beat to make the conversational switch back to business. “I have some on order. I’ve also been calling around. A few people ordered too many and they’re happy to sell the extra.”
Good wine barrels cost several hundred dollars each. They had a limited lifespan and constantly needed to be replaced. Empty barrels invited mold and rot, so wine makers preferred to keep them full at all times. The trick was that production rates varied from year to year, so it was a constant guessing game to have the exact number around for any given vintage.
“Where will you be storing them?”
“Not at Marcelli Wines,” she said. “I haven’t rented space yet. I didn’t want to make any commitments until I was sure I had the financial backing.”
He’d led them to the winery. Several buildings created a small complex. The center building was the largest, and a recent addition. Brenna stared enviously at the new building, a state-of-the-art storage facility with several temperature-controlled rooms. Special shelves had been designed and installed to allow for easy access to any barrel. A computer kept track of what inventory was where. Everyone in the valley had heard about Nic’s new facility. She’d even had a talk with the contractor and had gotten a bid on a smaller version for Marcelli Wines. Her grandfather had said it was a waste of money.
“I don’t suppose you have any extra room in there,” she said wistfully.
“Sorry, no. But I do have this.”
He crossed to one of the smaller buildings. She followed him inside and nearly fainted.
The structure was the size of a barn, with several walls dividing the space into open rooms and a loft overhead. Empty racks for stacking barrels stood lined up in rows. Large silver ducts cut across the ceiling and down the walls, providing rudimentary temperature control from the industrial-sized heater and air conditioner outside.
Brenna instantly began calculating capacity. If Nic would rent her this space, she would be able to keep all her wines in one location. Plus the Giovanni winery was within easy distance of her day job. She’d imagined having to drive across the valley to three or four different locations.
“How much?” she asked. “I’m willing to sign a two-year lease. That should lower the price.”
“You’re borrowing money from me only to turn around and pay me rent with it?” He shook his head. “We’ll fold the cost into the loan.”
Brenna swallowed hard. He was already delaying payments for two years. With the accumulation of interest and the deferred rent, she was racking up some serious charges. If she failed…
Don’t think about it, she told herself. Success was the only option. When she’d turned Four Sisters into a viable label, Nic couldn’t touch her. She only needed two years, three tops.
“Until then I owe my soul to the company store,” she murmured.
“So tell me no.”
She glanced at the open room. Plain old-fashioned lust overrode common sense. For once the feeling wasn’t about Nic’s body or what he could do to hers. Instead she wanted this for her wine.
“I don’t suppose you’ve recently replaced your grape-processing equipment.”
“As a matter of fact, I have.”
Brenna tried not to make moany noises when she saw the collection of conveyor belts and pressing equipment. Yes it was old and would probably break down every fifteen minutes, but it wasn’t being used by someone trying to get their own grapes pressed as soon as possible. She could work all night and not have to worry about being in the way.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” she said when Nic ushered her back outside. “You’re doing so much more than I could have hoped for. I may have to give you two cases of wine.”
“Maybe I’ll have you create a blend for me instead.”
“A Marcelli working on Giovanni wines? Wouldn’t the heavens crack open?”
“Probably.”
She squinted slightly into the sun and saw that it was much lower in the horizon than she would have thought.
“I should be heading back,” she said. “I need to make an appearance so no one gets suspicious, and you have to feed Max.”
Nic chuckled. “You’re convinced I can’t take care of him on my own, aren’t you?”
“Puppies are a lot of responsibility.”
“I think I can handle it.”
At this point she figured he could handle anything. “I had a good time,” she told him. “And not just because you’re loaning me a lot of money.”
“It was fun,” he agreed.
Too late she realized this was the wrong conversational tack. Suddenly things seemed really personal. She found herself wanting to step closer to him, or maybe have him step closer to her. She wanted to lose herself in his brown eyes, letting past and present blur. Her body was convinced it would be as good as it had been before, and she wasn’t sure the rest of her didn’t agree.
She wanted…a lot of things.
It seemed like a really good time to run.
“Okay, then,” she said and stuck out her hand. “Thanks for everything.”
He glanced at her hand. The corner of his mouth twitched-as if he knew he got to her. Maybe he did. Maybe he was doing it on purpose. If so, it was a small price to pay for the loan.
“I’m happy to help,” he said solemnly as they shook hands.
She did her best to ignore the sensation of his skin brushing hers. For reasons that made absolutely no sense, she remembered a line from Romeo and Juliet, which she hadn’t read since she was in ninth-grade English about a
