Boardroom Rivals, Bedroom Fireworks!. Kimberly Lang
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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 was that sting of the slap again. “So would you be so quick to sell off a piece of that?”
“If the price were right and the situation called for it, yes. It’s called business, Brenna.” He finally levered himself out of his casual lounging against the counter, and suddenly she felt as if she should keep something between them. This would be easier with a barrier keeping him from looming over her.
“There’s the difference, Jack. This is more than just a business for me. It’s more than a paycheck and a profit margin. It’s my home. It’s all I’ve ever wanted and you know that.”
“Really, Bren? This is what you want?”
The question shook her, but she fought not to let it show. Instead, she crossed her arms, copying his earlier casual stance. “Of course.”
Jack looked at her strangely, and she struggled to keep her face impassive. “Since when?”
Another memory slammed into her. Of course Jack would have to remember the one thing she’d hoped he would forget. “It’s been a while, Jack. People change.”
That damn eyebrow quirked up again. “Obviously.”
Don’t let this turn personal. Focus on the business. “I’ll buy you out.”
Jack looked at her in surprise. “You have that kind of money squirreled away someplace? I’m impressed, Bren.”
“Well, no.” She paced as she tried to think fast. “I can’t do it now, but I will eventually. Maybe a little at a time over the next few years…”
“I’m not shackling myself to this place indefinitely.”
That’s right. He was just as trapped as she was with this partnership. That knowledge gave her a little spurt of courage and she smiled. “Then we seem to be at a stalemate.” Oh, that had to bother him, and the narrowing of his eyes told her she was right. She could end the night on a high note. “I’m going to bed. I have to get up early to get the grapes in. Make yourself at home. Or, better yet, go home. We’re done here.”
He stepped in front of her, blocking her path of retreat. Once again she was too close to his body, and her libido reacted immediately. “No, we’re not.”
She needed distance to get her body back under control, needed quiet and space to figure out what she was going to do. “Move.”
“What? So you can stomp off again? Try to stall some more? Stave off the inevitable?”
She had to tilt her head back, but she met his hard stare. “Inevitable? Selling is inevitable? Hardly.”
“If you knew a thing about business, you’d know there’s no way this partnership can work as long as we’re at odds. You can sell now, or lose everything later.”
Cold