Boardroom Rivals, Bedroom Fireworks!. Kimberly Lang
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for the day.
“Let’s just get this over with,” he muttered to himself.
Cursing the entire ridiculous situation, Jack took his overnight case and laptop into the house, dropped them in what had used to be his room, and headed down the hill on foot to find his ex-wife.
“Brenna, they need you at the building. The pump’s acting up again,” Ted called from the end of the row she was working on. “Rick kicked it and nothing happened, so he asked me to get you.”
Brenna sighed. The new pump was on backorder, and wouldn’t be here until sometime in the next couple of weeks. Which would have been in plenty of time for the crush if Ted’s grapes had kept to their usual timetable. “Did he kick it in the right place?”
Ted nodded. “Twice.”
Straightening, she slid her clippers into her back pocket and pulled off her gloves, before wiping a hand across her sweaty forehead. “Great. Exactly what I didn’t want to do today. Do you have this under control?”
“Of course. I didn’t need you out here to begin with,” he teased.
They didn’t have time for this, and they would only get further behind if she had to take the whole pump apart again. Beads of sweat rolled down her spine, and she grimaced at the feeling. At least she’d be out of the heat sooner than planned. She’d call Dianne and get her to bring a clean shirt along with their lunches.
She pulled her cellphone out of her other pocket, replacing it with her gloves. Dialing Dianne as she walked, she didn’t see the man who stepped into her path until she ran face-first into him. The force knocked her hat off her head, and the cellphone hit the dust at her feet.
“Sorry,” she said, as strong hands closed around her arms to steady her. In the split second that followed her brain registered the fine cotton shirt—far too nice for any of her guys to be wearing while they worked—the strangely familiar feeling of the man’s grasp, and the subtle spicy scent tickling her nostrils.
And then her brain shut down altogether as one thought crystallized: Jack.
“It’s a bit early to be harvesting, isn’t it, Brenna?”
His deep voice rumbled through her, causing her brain to misfire in shock, but the bite of sarcasm brought her world back into focus. Shrugging off his hands in what she hoped was a casual way, she tried to match his tone. “The grapes are ready when the grapes are ready. You should know that.”
She made the mistake of meeting his eyes when she spoke, and the smoky blue stare caused her to take a step back. She bent to retrieve her hat, but as she stood, she saw the assessing roaming those eyes made down her body, taking in her sweat-darkened T-shirt, battered jeans, and dusty work boots before settling back on her face.
She just hoped the flush she felt on her cheeks looked like a response to the heat of the sun, not the heat of his stare.
One of his dark eyebrows arched up at her in surprise as she captured her ponytail under her hat and pulled the brim down to shade her eyes.
“You really need a new hat, Brenna. That one’s seen better days.”
Damn it, he’d recognized it. Jack had bought her this hat—a silly gift from the early days of their relationship—and if she’d had even the smallest clue he’d show up she’d have left it at the house today. It was her favorite hat—wide brimmed and very comfortable—and she’d absolutely only kept it because it worked so well for her, not because it was a gift from him.
She hoped he didn’t think otherwise.
Brazening it out regardless, she lifted her chin. “It’s perfectly serviceable.” Shifting her weight onto her heels, she put her hands in her back pockets and tried to act normally, although she felt anything but normal. Her heart pounded in her chest and her palms felt clammy. Be an adult. “What brings you to Amante Verano, Jack?”
Her words seemed to amuse him. “I know the lawyer explained Max’s will to you. You had to be expecting me.”
“Actually, no. I was expecting another phone call from your lawyer—not a personal visit from you.” This was the longest conversation they’d had in over five years, and she wasn’t handling it well. She knew she sounded defensive and prickly.
“We don’t need lawyers for this.” He pulled a folded manila envelope from the back pocket of his jeans. “If we could go somewhere quiet—”
Somewhere quiet. Brenna’s knees wobbled a little bit at the rush of memories those two words brought. That summer after graduation, when finding “somewhere quiet” had always led to…
She shook herself, forcing the memories and the tingle they caused back into the past, where they belonged. Concentrating on the envelope in his hand helped; she had a very sick feeling she wasn’t going to like what was in there, otherwise Jack wouldn’t have wanted to take the conversation elsewhere. Hoping for steadiness in her voice—if not her knees—she met his eyes. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a little busy at the moment. Surely you remember how this place works?”
“Brenna…” The muscle in Jack’s jaw tightened, showing his frustration with her.
That helped. Irritation flowed through her body, displacing the earlier, more disturbing emotions. Jack was not going to walk onto her property after all these years and act as if he owned the damn place. Okay, so he owned half of it, and the guilt that she was the reason he never came out here anymore nagged at her a bit, but still…She focused on her irritation.
He wasn’t the boss of Amante Verano. Or her. Whatever was so all-fire important enough to pull him away from the excitement of his life in the city could just wait. “I have grapes losing quality while I stand here talking to you, and I need to go fix a stupid pump if I want to get them into the tanks tonight. You’ll just have to wait your turn.”
Pleased with herself for getting the last word, she brushed past him, intent on getting to the winery and back to work. Jack grabbed her arm, halting her steps and pulling her too close for comfort. His face was only inches from hers—something her body reacted to instantly. And embarrassingly.
Heat, real heat, the kind she hadn’t felt in years, surged through her. He was so close she could see herself in the pupils of his eyes, smell the spicy scent of his soap. She swallowed hard. “Not now, Jack. I’m—”
“Busy, I know. So am I. Do you think I wanted to come out here?” His dark brows pulled together in a sharp vee as he gritted out the words.
He might as well have slapped her. The pain and shock were the same. In a way, she welcomed it. It would help her focus on the present.
Then the heat dropped out of his voice. “I’m selling my half of the winery.”
Outrage replaced her shock. What? “You can’t. Max set up the partnership—”
“Oh, I’m well aware of how this ridiculous partnership is set up. It’s barely legal and completely beyond reason. But I’ve found a buyer, and all you have do is sign off on it.”
She hadn’t planned on owning Amante Verano right now either—much less sharing it with him—but he didn’t have the right to go selling off his part of it. His attitude wasn’t exactly helping the situation any either. “There’s no way in hell I’m signing anything. I’m sorry if you find the arrangement distasteful. Trust me, it’s not exactly a picnic for me either. But we’re stuck with each other.”
“You won’t have to be stuck with me once you sign off on the sale.”
The grip on her arm was bordering on painful, and she smacked his hand away. He stepped back, the muscle in his jaw still working.
She bristled. “To whom? Let me guess: you found someone who fancied the odd break from city life and wanted to come stomp grapes on the weekends?” The look on Jack’s face told her all she needed