“What did he say when you went to him for the loan?” Katie asked.

“He said he would think about it.”

“That’s a yes?”

“It’s not a no. I should hear from him in the next couple of days.”

Francesca shook her head. “Are you sure about this? You don’t think it’s the least bit dangerous borrowing money from the great-grandson of the family’s sworn enemy?”

“Do any of us take the feud seriously?”

“No.” Francesca picked up a cookie. “I hope everything goes well. Maybe he’ll loan you the money for old times’ sake.”

“No teenage relationship is worth that much,” Katie said.

Brenna couldn’t help agreeing. What they didn’t know and what she wouldn’t tell them was there had been a time when Nic had hated her as much as he had once loved her. Not that she could blame him. If their situations had been reversed, she would never have forgiven him.

For the first time since going to him that afternoon, she felt a shiver of apprehension. If he wanted revenge, she was handing him the means.

No, she told herself. That wasn’t possible. Nic wanting revenge would mean that she still mattered. It had been nearly ten years since their relationship had ended, and in that time he’d dated scads of beautiful women. She was just somebody he used to know and his interest in her project was about risk and opportunity, nothing more.

Francesca smiled. “Okay, Brenna. If you’re determined to do this, then I want to wish you the best.” She raised her drink. “To your new winery.”

Katie raised her glass as well. “May you only rate ninety and above in Wine Spectator.”

Brenna picked up her glass. “To new beginnings. For all of us.”

Nic called out greetings to the office staff as he walked to the executive offices of Wild Sea Vineyards. The door with the brass nameplate stating M. Moore, Chief Financial Officer, stood open. He knocked once and entered.

Maggie Moore, a tall, beautiful redhead with a brain like a computer, looked up and grinned. “I can always tell when you’re around by the increase in the pitch of conversation among the office staff. You’re a distraction.”

“That’s because they’re all dancing around, trying to look at my butt.”

She shook her head. “I should never have told you they did that.”

“Why not? It’s flattering.”

“Yeah, and you strutted around here for weeks afterward.”

“Can I help it if they find me irresistible? Besides, I’ve checked out my share of female body parts over the years. I consider it payback.”

“Which you love. It’s a curse, but you handle it with style and grace.”

“Absolutely.”

She laughed then and her green eyes crinkled at the corners.

Maggie had always enjoyed poking at his ego. For the past eight years she’d kept him from taking himself too seriously. When they’d transitioned from lovers to coworkers, that trait had kept things comfortable between them.

He nodded at the computer. “Are we making millions?”

“I’m doing my best to make that happen. When does harvest start?”

“Next week for the Chardonnay grapes.”

“Am I supposed to be praying for rain or no rain?”

“No rain during harvest. While you’re at it, mention that we’d like warm temperatures for the Cabernet and Merlot grapes.” He pulled out a chair in front of her desk and took a seat.

“I’ll never remember all that.”

“That’s because you’re not a wine drinker.”

She touched her index finger to her lips. “You’re not supposed to tell. It’s my big secret.”

“I know. I figure one day I’ll use it for blackmail.”

“Can I help it if I don’t get the whole wine thing? Give me a milkshake kind of drink or something with an umbrella. I don’t want to taste the alcohol if I don’t have to.”

He grimaced. “Strawberry daiquiris. Talk about a chick drink.”

“I am a chick, thank you very much.”

“I did my best to educate your palate, but you’re beyond redemption.”

Maggie didn’t look the least bit chagrined. “I figure there are more people like me in the world than there are like you, so I don’t care what you say.” She glanced at her computer screen, hit the Save key, and logged out of the program.

“Okay,” she said as she turned back to him. “Tell me everything. Are we going to be selling overseas?”

“I can honestly say we’re going to have more orders than we can handle.”

He brought her up to date on the meetings he’d held the previous afternoon. They’d gone late into the night, and by the time Nic had headed home, Wild Sea Vineyards had become the newest wine to be imported to the Far East.

“Dennis will be getting you specific numbers,” Nic said, referring to their sales manager. “We’re going to have to get up to speed on all the regulations and the hell of shipping the wine overseas. Once we get a start date, I’ll want updated financials.”

“No problem.” Maggie made a few notes on a pad. “Dennis and I already have a meeting set up for later this morning. I’ll add this to the agenda.” She glanced at him. “So why aren’t you thrilled about this?”

“I am.”

“You don’t seem excited. Isn’t this a big deal? You’ve been working toward it for nearly a year. Why don’t you look like a happy camper?”

He shrugged. “I got what I wanted. Now it’s time to move on to the next goal.”

“Maybe it’s time to stop and enjoy all that you’ve already accomplished.” She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her desk. “Nic, you’re burying yourself in work. Have you ever thought about getting a life?”

“I have one.”

Her mouth twisted. “You have the winery, which occupies about ninety percent of your time. The rest of your free hours are spent riding that damn motorcycle along the coast road and dating women you have no intention of ever settling down with. Don’t you want something more significant than that?”

“You ruined me for other women,” he told her.

“Not likely. You’re the one who dumped me, remember?”

“No, I didn’t. I’m too smart to let someone like you get away.”

“Oh, sure. Say that now that I’m happily married with a toddler.” Her humor faded. “When we first met you had so many plans and dreams. I never noticed they were all about business. In the past seven years you’ve made them all come true. Maybe it’s time to focus on other areas of your life.”

“Gee, thanks for the lecture, Mom.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I know. I appreciate the concern.”

“But you’re not going to listen to me.” She sounded resigned.

“Not for a minute.”

She sighed. “Why can’t I get through to you?”

“Because you’re a born rescuer and I don’t need saving.”

“You need something.” She tapped her pen on the desk. “What about a dog?”

He laughed. Maggie always knew the right thing to say, even when he didn’t want to hear it. She wanted him to be a well-rounded person. He wanted to win. As far as she was concerned, he’d achieved every goal he’d set for himself. Which he had. All but the one she didn’t know about.

As for a woman in life, something permanent, it might be for other people, but not for him. He’d long ago learned that loving someone meant opening himself to being left behind and betrayed. Why bother?

“Maybe a dog,” he said. “I’ll think about it.”

“You could get one of those sidecars for your motorcycle. Wouldn’t that be great? You could buy doggie goggles and a little leather dog jacket.”

He winced. “Not in this lifetime. I’d be getting a dog, not a dress-up doll. Does Jason know you’re this twisted?”

“My husband adores me.”

Nic was glad. When he’d come home after his eighteen months of exile in France, Maggie had just been hired to get the winery’s books in order. She’d been five years older, new in town, and the softest touch around. The second she’d found out about his broken heart, she’d gone to work, healing him with everything from long conversations to nights of great sex.

Six months later he’d been back on his feet, and she’d been smart enough to end things before they got awkward. Over the years they’d stayed friends. She’d met Jason, had fallen in love, and gotten married. Nic had been happy for her. She’d always been the home-and-hearth kind.

“How’s our cash flow?” he asked, changing the subject to something less personal.

“What do you want to buy? More land? Maybe a small island somewhere?”

“Very funny. Actually I was thinking of making a loan.”

Maggie frowned. “To whom?”

“Someone I know wants to start a winery.”

“And you just love training the competition?”

He shrugged. “How many new concerns make it?”

Maggie blinked. “You want to loan money for a winery start-up you expect to fail?”

“I don’t expect it to fail.” Not exactly. But Brenna had been out of the business a long time. Ten years ago he would have bet on her in a heartbeat, but now? He wasn’t so sure.

“Are you making the loan yourself, or is this from the company?” Maggie asked.

“Which do you suggest?”

“It depends on terms. There are tax implications either way. How much money are we talking about?”

Nic settled back to watch the show. “A million dollars.”

Maggie pushed to her feet and planted her hands on her hips. Her eyes widened and her cheeks turned as red as her hair. “Are you insane?”

“Is this how you talk to your boss?”

“I do when he’s in serious need of therapy. You’re considering loaning someone a million dollars and you think there’s a chance they might fail?”

He shrugged. “It would be a good write-off.”

“It would be really dumb. I mean it, Nic. I know this is your company and you can tell me to pound sand if you want, but this is a really, really bad idea.”

“Have I ever told you to pound sand?”

“Not in so many words, but you frequently ignore my very sound financial advice.”