Susan Mallery - Seductive One

“Don’t give me that ‘all things happen for a reason’ crap,” Brenna told her. “This wasn’t like that. It’s not cosmic. It’s hormones and circumstances. Given the past Nic and I had together, it was practically inevitable. But it didn’t mean anything.”

“So it wasn’t your fault?” Mia asked innocently.

“Exactly.”

“Be careful,” Francesca warned.

“There’s nothing to be careful about. We’re just working together.”

“And having sex,” Mia said with a grin. “Was it amazing?”

“I’m not answering that.”

“Which means yes,” Katie said.

Brenna wanted to scream with frustration. “Why won’t you listen to me?”

“Because you’re not being honest with us or yourself,” Francesca told her. “Nic is appealing on many levels. You have a past, now you work together. You said there’s chemistry. It’s a volatile situation.”

“Does that matter if she cares for him?” Katie asked.

Francesca considered the question. “I don’t know.”

“Hello,” Brenna growled. “I’m still sitting here at the table.”

Mia poked at Brenna’s avocado. “Are you going to eat that?”

Brenna slapped her fingers. “Yes.”

“Do you care about him?” Francesca asked.

“I don’t know.”

This time Brenna was telling the truth. Did “care” describe her feelings for Nic? While having any emotional vulnerabilities where he was concerned made her nervous, “care” was a whole lot safer than several other feelings she could name.

“He’s done a lot for me,” she said slowly. “I appreciate that. He’s the reason I had the chance to start my own thing.”

“He was pretty cool at the party,” Mia pointed out.

“Grandpa Lorenzo tortured him and everything and he was polite. He could have gotten all huffy. Obviously he’s ready to put the past behind him, at least about the feud.”

“Is the rest of it behind you, too?” Francesca asked.

Brenna considered that. “Most of it.” But not all. Not by a long shot.

“Don’t forget the diary,” Mia said. “I give him a big thumbs-up.”

“What diary?” Katie asked.

“Sophia Giovanni’s.” Brenna explained how Nic had been translating it. “He didn’t get very far into it, but what he found was interesting. Before Sophia married Salvatore Giovanni, she was in love with Antonio.”

Katie’s eyes widened. “Our Antonio? Our great-grandfather?”

“He’s the one. They knew each other before he and Salvatore came over to start the wineries.”

“Interesting,” Francesca said. “Unfortunately it’s too early to have contributed to the feud. The falling-out between the friends didn’t happen for another fifteen or twenty years. Unless they were still in love.”

Mia shook her head. “They were married to other people. No way they could have stayed in love that long. Absence doesn’t make the heart grow fonder, it makes it forget.”

Katie laughed. “How did you come by this tidbit of knowledge?”

“It just makes sense. Without nurturing, love dies.”

Brenna knew Mia was right. Years ago she would have sworn she would love Nic forever, but she hadn’t. With time and a different life, she’d let her feelings go. Or maybe they’d faded on their own. Once there had been so much promise, and then one day it had all been gone.

“Let us know what you find out from the diary,” Francesca said.

“I will.” Mia reached for her iced tea. “So have you two lovebirds picked honeymoon destinations yet?”

Francesca murmured something about Hawaii, while Katie mentioned a cruise. Brenna only half listened. Her mind was still on Nic and what had once been. The two of them had managed to have dozens of conversations without ever discussing what had happened. She’d often thought of their past as an elephant in the room that neither of them was willing to talk about. Was it time to change that? Was she willing to go there with Nic?

Did she have a choice?

Nic left his office a little after ten. The building was silent and dark, except for the hallway lights the cleaning staff had left on for him. He went out the side door, locking it behind him.

The night was cool, clear, and quiet. Beyond the main building Wild Sea Vineyards stretched out to the horizon. An owl took flight with a silent flutter of massive wings. Leaves rustled. No light shone a welcome from the house. Nic felt like the last man standing.

Alone but not lonely. He’d always believed in that. Circumstances, or maybe his own nature, had dictated that he stand on his own. He’d been content to walk life’s path by himself. Friendship was important but not defining, while love…

Love was a crock of shit.

He turned from the view and started for the house. As he walked, he caught sight of a familiar vehicle parked by the trees. Brenna’s car.

It was late, he was tired, and he had a seven A.M. meeting with his managers. While he hadn’t seen Brenna in several days, he told himself he wasn’t interested in talking to her now. Even so, he found himself walking toward the building and entering through the open double doors.

He found Brenna crouched by a fermenting vat. She checked the temperature, then stood and walked around the large container. Fierce concentration pulled at her features. She inhaled deeply, as if determining how well the process was going by smell alone.

He remembered the first time he’d found her snooping around the winery. She’d been tasting samples from the reserve barrels. Instead of being afraid or even embarrassed at being caught, she’d had the balls to tell him everything he and his grandfather were doing was wrong. The hell of it was, she’d been right.

He remembered listening to her talk about wine. All these years later he could still recall the way the sunlight had slipped through the open windows to highlight the hint of red in her brown hair. She’d been pretty, mouthy, and arrogant, and he’d wanted her as he never wanted another woman before or since.

Nic leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. She moved to the next vat and made several notations on a clipboard. She was so focused on her work, she hadn’t spotted him.

Back then she’d been just as driven, but for different reasons. She’d argued passionately, mocked him, challenged him, and delighted him. For weeks he’d told himself that she was only seventeen to his twenty. Whatever he was thinking about her was not only inappropriate, it was illegal. But he’d been unable to resist. The first time he’d kissed her had been magic.

It had been in this room with the scent of the wine all around them, on a night not unlike this one. She’d worn shorts and a T-shirt, and her long hair had been pulled back into a ponytail. She’d been talking about grapes or wine because that’s what she always talked about, and he’d cupped her face and kissed her. He could still hear the catch in her breath as his mouth had claimed hers.

“The process works even if you don’t check on it every fifteen minutes,” he said quietly.

Brenna dropped her clipboard and jumped. As she turned to face him, she pressed a hand against her chest.

“Stop creeping up on me,” she said. “I’m getting old. I could have a heart attack or something.”

He pushed off the wall and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “I think that’s a few years off, yet.”

“Maybe.” She picked up her clipboard. “Where’s Max?”

“He flaked out a couple of hours ago.”

She glanced at her watch. “It can’t be this late. I got here at seven and was only going to stay a couple of hours.”

“You know how you get when you’re making wine.”

She nodded. “How are things?”

“Good. What about you? Lorenzo still making you crazy?”

“Sure. He’s really good at it. His stubborn streak only makes things worse.”

Nic took a step toward her. “Why don’t you quit?”

“No. I already did that once. This time I’m in it until the bitter end.”

“That’s new.”

He hadn’t meant to say that. The words had come out before he could stop them, and now they hung in the air like a flashing neon sign. Would Brenna ignore them or take the bait?

“Funny you should say that,” she told him, speaking softly. “I’ve been thinking about us a lot lately.” She gave a slight smile. “The old us, not the new us.”

Was there a “new” us? he wondered. “Forget about it,” he told her as he realized he didn’t want to talk about them or the past. “It was a long time ago.”

“Not acknowledging what happened won’t make it go away.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

She stared at him. “It matters to me. A lot. I’m going to talk about it. If you leave, I guess I’ll just be talking to myself.”

He thought about heading out. He could walk away, and they would never have this conversation. But he didn’t. There were probably a thousand reasons why, but right then he couldn’t think of one.

“So talk,” he said.

She walked to the chairs set up by the small table. He considered staying where he was, in the shadow of the vats, in darkness. He didn’t want to have this conversation; he didn’t want to feel anything. Not again. Time was supposed to heal all wounds. Had it healed this one?

Silence filled the big room. Finally he gave in to the inevitable and walked over to where she was seated. He pulled out the other chair and settled across from her. She looked at him, then at the floor.

“I was so in love with you,” she began.

Her first blow hit below the belt. He stiffened. “You could have fooled me.”

She nodded. “I didn’t expect you to believe me.” She sighed. “Actually, I did think you would. Or maybe I just hoped. But whatever you want to believe, I loved you more than I had thought possible. You were my world.”

Something cold circled inside his belly. “I was third on a short list of two. First was your family, second was the wine. You weren’t willing to give up either, but you walked away from me fast enough.”