by Tara Lain
Silence.
Jeremy pulled the car over at the end of the road. No driving while yelling obscenities. “The fact is, Ezra, the news release went to the wire service without a word about the casual comment that was made as a joke being interpreted as serious. Someone added it after the fact. I’ll give you one clue who probably did it. Ottersen was pissed that we won. Probably that you won too. He tried to switch my wine to vinegar before the contest and Genna caught it. He clearly wanted me out of the running.” He felt the muscle in his jaw jump. “Sage Zilinsky works for him.”
There was a pause, then Ezra said, “You really think he’d do that?”
“Damn, Ezra, you think he burned Lucky’s winery. Why the hell would he be conscience-stricken at accusing me of cheating? You know as well as I do, for some reason he’s targeting me more than any other winemaker. At least since Lucky.”
“I don’t see why you won.”
“That’s your privilege, but the judges disagreed. I called Genna this morning, and she was spitting nails over the release. She gave me a quote about the veracity of the contest to use in communications with my customers. Do you want to accuse Genna of cheating? Because I’ll tell her you said so.”
“Of course not.” He sounded sulky.
“Okay. I know you don’t like me, but I don’t blame you for believing the press release. The fact is, the press release was tainted by someone. I didn’t cheat. I’d appreciate you not continuing to spread the story that I did.”
He sighed. “All right. I don’t want to help Ottersen. I’ll accept your explanation.”
Shit, big of him. “Thank you.”
Another pause. “Uh, can you tell me how you happened to come up with the Dionysian Festival as a theme for the event?”
“Bo chose it. I think it was just a question of the date. It was close and associated with wine. We wanted a close date. But I’m not altogether sure. Ask him.”
“I will.” Dead air. “Uh, thanks for explaining.”
“I wish it hadn’t happened.”
“I’m sure. We’re all getting impacted by Ottersen.”
“I suppose, but he seems to save his dirty tricks for me.”
“It does seem that way.” He didn’t sound terribly sad about that.
Jeremy waited.
Finally Ezra said, “Thank you. Goodbye.” The line went dead.
Well, hell. How many more calls will I get from people? At least this was probably the worst one. He pressed his foot to the gas and entered the winding, narrow road that ran through the wine country. When he’d passed most of the wineries, the sign for Marchand came up on the left, and he slowed. Not much traffic, so he crossed and started up the steep drive. Bo had as much claim to the name Hill Top as Jeremy, but Marchand was a classy name, so it worked.
What am I going to find up there? Bo still seemed affectionate and lovey-dovey when he’d snuggled Jeremy before leaving, but he’d seen his family since then. And how do you feel about that, Mr. Aames? We’ll see.
He parked and walked into the winery that so recently had been the site of one of his happiest moments—holding aloft that trophy for best white wine and being praised and appreciated by Bo. Lots had happened since then.
He held his breath as he walked through the door of the tasting room. Beautiful RJ flashed those too perfect teeth from behind the tasting bar. “Hi, Jeremy.”
“I’m supposed to meet Bo.”
He smiled even wider, which could mean anything, and said, “I’ll get him.” He disappeared through the door that led to the back offices from which Bo and his staff ran the winery.
A couple of minutes later, the door opened, Bo leaned out, and waggled his fingers to come in. RJ walked back into the tasting room, still smiling.
Jeremy crossed in front of Bo, feeling jumpier than fleas on a hound dog, if he could quote his host. Bo didn’t say anything but led him down the hall to the door on the left Jeremy knew led to his office. Inside, Bo closed the door, still looking serious. What am I going to hear? A lecture on how this can never work? He turned, resigned.
Bo grabbed his shoulders and hauled him in for a deep, persuasive, not-taking-no-for-an-answer kiss. Hallelujah!
Jeremy wrapped his arms tight around all the Bo he could reach and let his tongue and libido go to town.
They kissed until air became a crucial issue. Bo pulled back a little. “Didn’t mean to bite off more than I could chew.” He laughed. “But I just wanted you to know—” His blush crept across his cheeks. How could the man be so sexy and so shy at the same time?
“Thank you. Very good to know.” Jeremy smiled big.
Bo’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “So I guess we better get going to Middlemark. I told Blaise and Llewellyn we’d be there for an early lunch if they have time.”
“Perfect.” He leaned up and gave Bo a soft kiss. “For luck.”
A little cloud crossed his face. “If we just knew what luck looked like.”
“Well, at least learning something we don’t know, or confirming something we do, will be useful.”
“True. Shall I drive?”
Jeremy nodded, and they walked to Bo’s Prius in the parking lot.
It took thirty-five minutes to drive out to the freeway and into San Luis Obispo, but the sun shone, nice music played, and Jeremy felt comfortable in both his skin and his companionship. He’d think about the future later. Hell, when was the last time he’d gotten to just enjoy the present? Looking over your shoulder all the time didn’t make for stress-free existence.
They pulled into one of several parking lots on the campus and walked across the green quadrangle to the History building. Jeremy said, “I gather that in the battle between English and History, the latter won.”
Bo smiled. “I think Llewellyn has his own office while Blaise describes his space as a cubicle with a door.”
They entered the History building and climbed the stairs. Jeremy stared around. “Have you been here before?”
“No. I met Llewellyn and Blaise at the winery. They’re big fans. They usually come in once a week, so there’s never been a need to visit their offices, although I’ve come to Middlemark for lectures and events. I’ve been to their house. It’s a beautiful old Craftsman I gather Llewellyn inherited from his mother.” Bo peered at the numbers outside the office doors until he seemed to find one that matched his directions. “Here we go.”
They walked into a smallish outer office with a desk, a prominent table with a coffee maker and teapot, and most notably a brightly smiling young woman with a mane of curly dark hair and very intelligent eyes. She bounded up, revealing a curvy body clad in jeans and a T-shirt that said Underthrow the Overground. She walked around the desk, hand outstretched. “Hello, you must be Bo Marchand and Jeremy Aames, right?”
Bo gave her his smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
She grinned. “Clearly, you’re Mr. Marchand.” She shook Bo’s hand enthusiastically. “I’m Maria Gonzalez, Dr. Lewis’s assistant.” She turned to Jeremy and again clasped his hand in a firm shake. “So good to meet you both. Llewellyn’s told me so much about you and your wonderful wines.”
Jeremy gave her a big grin back. How great that the shy and reclusive Llewellyn Lewis had such an outgoing front person.
She waved a hand at the couch. “Please make yourselves comfortable. I’ll get him, then I’ll make you tea or coffee.” She cast a cocky smile. “Sorry, no wine, but I’ll bet you can find some at lunch.” She walked to a side door that was closed and knocked. Though it was a thick, old-fashioned door, Jeremy vaguely heard a voice through it. Maria opened it and stuck her head inside. “Mr. Marchand and Mr. Aames are here. I’m making drinks. Need a refill?” She nodded. “Oh, okay. Maybe later.”
The solicitous sound in her voice told Jeremy that Maria Gonzalez would be his friend as long as he was Llewellyn’s friend. The moment that was cast into doubt, you could have one serious enemy. That gave him both a warm and an envious feeling. Do I have anyone that loy
al to me? Yes. Bo.
Maria bounded back to her desk, so no coffee or tea appeared to be on tap. The inner office door opened wider, revealing tall, gangly Llewellyn standing there in khakis and a cardigan sweater. If someone defined “caricature of a nerdy researcher” in the dictionary, this was the picture they’d use. Jeremy rose beside Bo and greeted Llewellyn, Bo with a guy hug and Jeremy with a handshake.
“S-so happy t-to see y-you. Blaise will m-meet us d-downstairs.”
Jeremy had noticed that Llewellyn’s stutter was worse when he first saw people and improved somewhat later.
Bo said, “That’s perfect. We can drive if that suits.”
“Y-yes, it’s n-not far.”
Waving goodbye to Maria, they all trooped back down the stairs and out into the sunlight. Two female students walked by, and one raised a hand in salute. “Hi, Dr. Lew Lew.”
“H-hi, J-Joanna.” He ducked his head in a gesture that made Bo’s occasional diffidence look like a model of effusive gregariousness, but he still seemed pleased.
Across the street ran Blaise, descending on them like a movie-star-handsome puppy. “Hi, you guys. How great to see you.” He stepped to Llewellyn and gave him a quick but very proprietary kiss.
Whoa. Talk about upping the envy quota.
In Bo’s car, they all chatted casually about wine, Llewellyn’s research, and Bo’s classes. At Blaise’s instruction, they pulled into what looked like a health food luncheonette, the healthy part being communicated by a certain earth mother, midcentury vibe.
Inside, the place had clearly been a diner at one time, with rows of booths and a few tables, but a glance at the menu proved it was a lot more gourmet than might have been suggested by the hand-lettered signs for that day’s specials.
Jeremy looked up at Bo. “Hey, this place might give us some good ideas.”
Blaise nodded. “We thought you’d appreciate it. The soup’s especially good.”
They all ended up ordering the day’s special black bean soup and a huge crunchy cabbage salad with a delicious vinaigrette dressing.
Finally Blaise leaned forward. “I think it’s time to get to the elephant in the room.”
Jeremy shivered.
Chapter Fourteen
JEREMY TRIED to adopt his most inquisitive and disingenuous expression. Do I want Ottersen to be guilty or not? If he’s not, what the hell would that mean? He was scared to know.
Bo leaned in conspiratorially. “We’re very anxious to know what y’all learned.”
“Since we saw you at the party, we made another contact with Ottersen.” Blaise sipped the iced tea the girl brought. When she left, he said, “He invited us to his winery, I think with the goal of attracting us to hold our reception there, or perhaps giving him some of the business.”
Jeremy said, “Wow. That was above and beyond the call. Thank you so much for taking the time.”
Llewellyn shared his soft smile. “It’s very interesting.”
Bo frowned a little but said, “Tell us.”
“O-Ottersen is, as you p-perceived, very ambitious. He d-does want to d-dominate the industry.”
“Not just Paso Robles and the central coast,” Blaise added. “He wants to spread his influence to Napa. He sees the chaos resulting from the fires as creating opportunities for new leaders to arise.”
Bo shook his head. “I’m not sure there is a lot of chaos.”
“That may be, but Ottersen sees a fallow field.”
“B-but he p-passionately denies any involvement in the f-fire at y-your friend’s v-vineyard.”
Blaise nodded. “He brought it up. He said he knew that a lot of the other vintners didn’t like him.”
Llewellyn touched Blaise’s arm. “He w-was very emphatic that he didn’t have any w-wish to p-put others out of b-business.”
“Did you believe him?” Jeremy tried to keep the incredulity out of his voice. The anger too.
Blaise looked back and forth between Jeremy and Llewellyn. “Oddly, yes.”
Bo sat back with his mouth open. “You can’t be serious. The switch of the wine in the contest, the changing of the news release.”
“The cancellation of my contracts.” Jeremy tried to pry his hands out of fists. “What about that suggests he doesn’t want to put me out of business?” Blaise rested his hand on Jeremy’s arm, but Jeremy moved back. He didn’t mean to be rude, but hell!
“We did some digging. The customer who canceled your contract, Jeremy, was buying some other bulk wine from Ottersen and swears he asked Ottersen if he also had that blend. He says he asked. Ottersen told him he didn’t, but he had something similar.” Blaise shrugged. “The customer says he couldn’t resist because the price was so good.”
“Aggressive b-business practices, yes, b-but it doesn’t sound like p-piracy or espionage.”
Jeremy couldn’t wipe off the scowl. “Excuse me, but bull.”
Bo pressed a warm hand to Jeremy’s thigh, which was almost enough to calm him since it felt so damned nice. Bo said, “I totally understand where you’re coming from. Every sign points to Ottersen.”
Llewellyn held up two fingers. “F-first, every s-sign does p-point to him.” He waggled the second finger. “S-sometimes that’s too m-many signs.”
“You mean like a setup?” Bo’s eyes widened.
Llewellyn nodded. “Only a ch-chance.”
Blaise leaped in. “But if we’re only staring at Ottersen, somebody else could be doing all this and we could miss them. So we’re not saying he didn’t do it. Only that we shouldn’t close our minds to other suspects.”
Jeremy felt angry words pressing against his lips and held them back. Think, dammit. Could they be right? Even if they’re wrong, you can’t insult Llewellyn and Blaise. Keep your trap shut. But damn, how could they let Ottersen off that easily?
Blaise said, “So with that in mind….” He turned to Llewellyn.
Llewellyn picked up the sentence. “Who else c-could be d-doing this?”
Jeremy shook his head emphatically.
Bo gave him a slightly chastising, slightly sympathetic look. “It’s hard to think of anyone. Ezra doesn’t love either of us.”
Jeremy glanced up from his inspection of his tea. “Especially me. He’s the bornest again of born agains and can’t stand anything gayer than a Sunday paper. In fact, he called me as I was driving to Bo’s to sneer and accuse me as a cheater. I told him about the press release and that someone had changed it, and guess who that someone is.”
Blaise wrote a couple of words in a little notebook. “This is Ezra Hamilton?”
“You never told me.” Bo squeezed his leg. “That churlish SOB, bless his little heart.” He looked at Blaise and Llewellyn. “He has an ego almost the size of Ottersen’s and thinks he’s the best of the best.”
Llewellyn got a small smile. “G-God’s ch-chosen.”
“For sure.”
Blaise said, “Yes, we spoke with him at the festival. Pretty full of himself. He didn’t like being relegated to third place.”
“And he could have substituted Jeremy’s wine as well or with the same difficulty as anyone, but altering the press release? I don’t see how.”
“The fact is, that Zilinsky female works for Ottersen.” Jeremy spat it with a bit more venom than he’d intended.
“L-let’s look at h-her. Sh-she’s new to the area?”
Bo nodded. “She said she moved from Chicago to work for Ottersen. I had no reason to doubt her. She said she’d always wanted to be in the wine business, so she jumped at the chance. On top of that, she was very loyal to Ottersen, although she showed compassion for Jeremy’s situation. I’d think if she was plotting against us, she might have wanted to appear more on our side.”
“N-not necessarily. When d-did sh-she say this?”
Jeremy growled, “On their date.”
“Dayum.” Blaise laughed. “That’s a piece of the puzzle we didn’t have in our database.”
Bo gave Jeremy a sidewa
ys look that almost made him laugh. Bo said, “Jeremy doesn’t like her, but we’re not really dating. It’s just a professional relationship.”
Another laugh from Blaise. “Maybe we should follow his instincts and distrust her?”
This time Bo’s touch was soothing. Even more soothing than the soup that arrived at that moment along with piles of salad loaded with veggies. They paused to appreciate the robust flavor in their bowls, and it did go down easy.
“I’d love to offer soup at Hill Top.” The complexity of the taste, part comfort food but with a touch of spice and exotic herbs, made Jeremy feel almost human again.
“You could do that easy, darlin’.”
Jeremy glanced at Blaise and Llewellyn quickly, but they didn’t even look up from their spoons. Bo called lots of people “darlin’.” Yes, and I should remember that.
When they’d all consumed a lot of soup and Llewellyn had even asked for more, they got back to the topic while they chewed salad. Llewellyn asked, “Who of y-your employees might n-not be w-what they s-s-seem?”
The crease between Bo’s brows attested to how close he was to the people who worked for him. “Most of my people were here in the area before me. RJ was born and grew up right in Paso Robles.”
“Could they possibly have a loyalty to someone else and be taking it out on you?”
Bo looked really distressed. “I don’t think so? Lord, like you said, I’ve been so focused on Ottersen, it never crossed my mind it might be someone on my staff.” He looked at Jeremy, horrified.
“What about you, Jeremy?” Blaise looked up from his notes and his salad.
“I have a lot fewer employees than Bo. I’m also the new kid on the block, so I guess the people I do have would logically be less dedicated to me, but they all seem really focused on the company’s success.”
Bo added, “Especially that little dynamo assistant.” His voice had a frosty edge. Jeremy might not like Sage, but it did his heart good to think Bo was jealous of Christian. Turnabout and all that.
Blaise said, “Is that Christian Fallwell?”
