She couldn’t go home without the sample. If it proved Amado wasn’t Tarrant’s son, then there might still be time to find the right person before Tarrant died. She couldn’t forgive herself if incompetence on her part denied him the chance to meet his child. She had to get Amado to agree.
Still, she didn’t want to press her point too hard and scare him off. He did seem intrigued by the prospect of doing business with Hardcastle Enterprises. Maybe she could somehow use that to persuade him to go along with her request.
She leaned back in the leather passenger seat and cleared her throat. “How many cases of wine do you produce each year?”
Amado chuckled, staring ahead out the windshield. “Changing the subject? I guess you don’t need my DNA so badly after all.” His lips hitched into a sensual smile. “I’m disappointed.”
His gaze lingered. Would he dignify her question with an answer? And what would she do if he didn’t?
She wished she could be a witty flirt like her best friend Suki. Being the daughter of devout missionaries didn’t really prepare you for situations like this.
His big hands rested on the steering wheel. “Last year we produced nearly four thousand cases. This year, there’ll be more, as several hundred new rows are coming into full production.”
“You’re growing fast.”
“We have to if we’re going to make a name for ourselves.”
She nodded. “Are you trying to expand your markets overseas?”
“Absolutely. I’d especially like to expand into North America.” His expression was entirely genuine, nothing sexual about it.
Somehow that touched her. “If your other wines are as good as this, I don’t think you’ll have any trouble securing distribution.”
“We’re still small, so it must be the right distribution. Outlets where our wines will reach the right people.”
“Where they’ll be appreciated.”
“Exactly.”
Amado drove the familiar road apparently by instinct. His eyes seemed mostly to rest on her face, which heated under his intense gaze.
She struggled to keep her composure. “I think Hardcastle Enterprises could do a lot for you. In addition to our restaurants, we offer a boutique wine-selecting service for our customers. We keep their cellars stocked with the very best wines available that year.”
Amado’s keen interest was written all over his handsome features as they pulled into a parking area behind the large, stone winery building. “I look forward to showing you our winery. I’m confident you’ll enjoy our wines.”
Susannah resisted a triumphant smile. Finally, she had some real leverage. If she played her cards right, she could get the DNA she needed.
Was it the flattering glow of sunset, or was Amado getting more ridiculously handsome than ever?
Susannah sat at a wide, polished table, rows of fine-stemmed glasses in front of her, their shimmering contents ranging in color from darkest garnet to palest silver.
Across the table, standing, Amado inhaled the bouquet of a youngish red, sipped it, then tossed his head back to swallow with a lavish gesture.
He’d rolled up his creamy-white sleeve to reveal a tan forearm, and she couldn’t help imagining the rest of his body would be equally hard and well-formed.
The tasting room was warm, and she’d removed her jacket. Her nipples stood to attention inside the loose-fitting top of her dress. The curved chair with its velvet padding was deliciously comfortable after the long drive crunched into her tiny rental car, and she longed to stretch like a cat.
She felt downright…tipsy. She’d blame the wine, but as an experienced taster she knew how to sip tiny amounts that couldn’t possibly get her inebriated.
At least she thought she did.
Amado poured Chardonnay into a glass. The pale liquid sparkled in the afternoon sun streaming in through the tall windows.
She inhaled then tasted. Flavor tingled across her tongue and caressed her throat with its smooth, golden warmth.
Like Amado, the wines seemed to be getting more delicious by the minute.
“Tierra de Oro—is there real gold in the earth around here?” She set the glass back on the table.
“I don’t think so. If there ever was, it’s long gone. The only gold around at Tierra de Oro is the kind stored in bottles.” He caressed a stemmed glass of pale liquid between finger and thumb.
Susannah’s belly shivered in response.
“I enjoy this kind of gold much more than the metal.”
“It costs less per ounce but gives more pleasure.” Amado’s smile revealed his white teeth.
Why did he have to be so great-looking?
And she was entranced by the way he treated the wine like a sacred liquid. He handled the bottles as if they were sentient—firm yet gentle.
The way he might handle her if he removed her dress and layered kisses over her breasts and belly.
Susannah sat upright as a rush of heat swept through her. “It’s getting late. I’d better go to my hotel.”
Amado frowned. “What hotel?”
“Any hotel.” She hadn’t booked a room, as she wasn’t sure if she’d have to stay locally, or if she could just head back to the city.
Apparently, she’d have to stick around for one more night to talk him into giving the DNA sample. What if he balked tomorrow, as well?
“There are no hotels here.”
She groaned. The vineyard was over two hours from Mendoza. If she returned there for the night, she’d have to drive back here in the morning to resume her campaign.
“Where do people usually stay?”
He blinked. Innocent. “Here.”
“At the winery?”
“In my house.” He picked up a three-year-old Cabernet. The tapered glass bottle looked slender and delicate in his big hands.
She could picture those broad palms and long fingers spanning the dip of her waist. “I’d prefer a hotel.”
He shrugged. “As I said. There isn’t one. This is the country, not a tourist destination.”
His polite smile warred with the mischievous gleam in his dark eyes. “And Rosa will cook you a very fine dinner.”
“But what about your parents? They can’t wait for me to leave.”
“Don’t worry about them. They have their own house and I’ve made my feelings clear. They won’t interfere again.” His expression softened. “You’ll find my home quite comfortable. You’re the only one here, so you can have your pick of the rooms. In the morning, we can conclude our business.”
Perhaps he’d give her what she wanted if she stayed overnight. And it wasn’t like she had anywhere else to go.
“It looks like I’m at your mercy. I mean, thanks for your hospitality.”
He laughed. She couldn’t help smiling. Truth be told, she didn’t mind staying. Not because she had any intention of personally extracting Amado’s DNA, but because everything about Tierra de Oro was so enchanting. The breathtaking views, the lush vines, the comfortable well-kept buildings.
And the wine had mellowed her out something wicked. She wasn’t even sure she should drive. Not to mention that she still had no gas.
And she couldn’t leave without his DNA.
“My offer still stands.”
“Which offer was that?”
He leveled a challenging gaze at her. “Whichever one you prefer.”
Susannah stowed her bag in a guest bedroom, committing herself to stay the night, one way or another.
As promised, dinner was sensational. A classic Argentine meal with locally raised steaks, fresh-picked vegetables and glass after glass of Amado’s magnificent wines.
Silent and catlike, Rosa served their food in the grand dining room. Instead of family portraits, the walls were lined with oil paintings of massive, rectangular-shaped bulls, each frame adorned with a gold nameplate.
“I guess someone loved cows.”
“My great grandfather. My grandfather. And my father.” Amado si
pped his wine. “Tierra de Oro was known throughout Argentina for its breeding stock.”
“Do you still breed them?”
“My father does, but it’s a hobby at this point. Not profitable. That’s why I started the vineyard.”
“You?”
“Yes.” He looked at her quizzically. “Why are you surprised?”
“Well, you’re only thirty.” She blanched when she realized she’d assumed that the research was correct and he was in fact Tarrant’s son. “Aren’t you?”
“As it happens, I am thirty. But I was fooling around in the fields and growing things by the time I was eight. By age eleven, I’d hybridized a Syrah that got people talking. My neighbor Santos taught me a lot. He’s ninety now and one of the true geniuses of winemaking. He helped me persuade my father to let me plant grapes in our pastures. By the time I was eighteen, we’d planted seventy hectares of vines.” He nodded at her glass. “You’re drinking their fruit now.”
“So, you skipped right over watching Power Rangers and Real World TV shows.”
Amado smiled. “When the TV broke, no one cared—except Rosa. She missed her telenovelas.”
“Thank God your father finally came to his senses and bought a satellite dish.” The silvery voice made Susannah whip her head around. Rosa stood right behind her. A stern expression still tightened her inscrutable and impossibly ancient face.
Amado laughed. “Now she’s addicted to CNN broadcasts.”
She clucked her tongue.
“Someone’s got to keep the Alvarez family in touch with the modern world. Otherwise, all you’d do is fondle grapes and stick your hands up a cow’s backside.”
Susannah almost spewed her wine and Amado bent his head in laughter.
Rosa bustled away with an empty serving dish. Susannah leaned forward and whispered. “She’s a character. How old is she?”
Amado blew out a breath. “Probably older than the mountains. She’s certainly been here longer than anyone else. Every other person around here is her grandchild or great grandchild. For years I’ve been trying to convince her to retire and take it easy in her old age. She flaps her dish-cloth at me and says she’d just as soon be dead.”
“What do you do around here for fun?”
“What could be more fun than testing the soil for nitrates?” Amado tilted his head and regarded her with mock seriousness. “What can I say? I love my work.”
“I know how you feel. I love mine, too.” She indicated the delicious meal spread before them. “I’m working right now. It’s a tough job, but, well, you know.”
“You traveled a long way. The least I can do is give you a good meal.”
“Much appreciated. I’m used to traveling though. I’m on the road about eighty percent of the time.”
Amado’s lips parted in dismay. “You’re away from home most of the year?”
Susannah shrugged. “My home is a featureless, one-room apartment in a busy part of Manhattan. It’s just a place to keep my stuff. I’m happiest when I’m out and about.”
He stared at her. “Where are you from originally? I mean, where did you grow up?”
She forced a bright smile. Here we go. “Everywhere. I was born in a tiny village in the Philippines where my parents set up a primary school. When I was eighteen months old, my parents moved to Burkina Faso to take over a mission there. When I was three, we moved to Papua, New Guinea. I turned six in a small village in Southern India, but that placement didn’t work out, so I had my seventh birthday in Columbus, Ohio while my parents attended a retreat there. Then we were back on the road to Honduras, El Salvador, Paraguay and Bolivia, which is why I speak fluent Spanish.”
The canned account of her strange childhood rattled out like a recorded recap.
“Your parents were missionaries?”
“You got it.” She raised her glass in a mock cheer. She was used to the sideways glances and snide remarks. Her parents were good people and they did what they thought was right.
Surprise trickled through her as she noticed Amado wasn’t mocking. He looked interested. “It must have been hard when you were a kid. To keep leaving your friends and your familiar environment.”
She shrugged. “I never lived any other way, so I guess I’m used to it. Their specialty is setting up programs and finding the right local people to run them. Then they move onto the next place. I guess the lifestyle shaped me, because I’m happiest when I’m moving from place to place.”
She realized Amado was staring at her with a look of…was it pity?
“What?”
He shook his head, as if shaking loose a painful thought. “Nothing. I guess it’s great that you love to travel. Everyone’s different.”
“You’re horrified, aren’t you?”
“No.” He laughed. “Okay, maybe a little. I don’t even like to go away on business for a few days. I feel like my roots have been pulled from the soil and I can’t wait to get back home and plant them among the grape vines again.” His wry expression suggested that he was a little embarrassed by his deep attachment to his home.
That touched her. What would it feel like to be so deeply rooted in a place—in one special place—that you felt like you truly belonged there?
Amado’s brows gathered. “Are you okay? More wine?”
Her face must be giving too much away. “I guess I’m just tired from all the traveling.”
He nodded, sympathetic. “Of course. Well, tonight, you are home in Tierra de Oro where I will take good care of you.” He rose and held out his hand to lift her from her chair.
His genial gaze rested on her face. “Come into the living room and we’ll light a fire. The nights are still cool and a fire warms the soul as well as the body.”
Susannah blinked as his words and the touch of his hand stoked a very different kind of fire.
He held her hand—casually—as he led her into the spacious living room and settled her into the butter-soft leather sofa in front of the grand carved-stone fireplace.
“Make yourself comfortable.” He offered her a knitted throw from a drawer. She shook her head.
He stroked it. “It’s pure alpaca, from the mountains. Soft as the clouds that gather in the foothills.” His sparkling gaze challenged her to resist.
“Well, if you put it that way.” She let him drape it over her shoulders. Soft as a breath. And somehow the caress of his strong hands transmitted through the lush fabric.
She slipped her shoes off, and put them on the floor. When she looked up, the fire was already lit and blazing.
“How did you do that? It takes me half an hour to get a fire going.” Sometimes even the fake logs sputtered out in her tiny apartment fireplace.
Amado shrugged. “Good kindling. Old wine barrels are the best.” He smiled. “And we have a steady supply.”
Without a word of warning, he seized her left foot and began to massage the sole with his broad thumb.
Susannah’s mouth fell open.
Sometimes she was ticklish, but right now she had no urge to laugh. The penetrating motions of his thumb and fingers sent sensations ricocheting through her foot, up her leg and all over her body.
She should protest. This was far too intimate. But no words came to her mouth, and Amado just went about the task as if it was a service he provided to all guests.
He knelt at her feet. His dark hair hung in his eyes and she couldn’t make out his expression. All she could see was the subtle movement of muscles in his bronzed forearms and powerful hands as he worked the day’s tension—heck, the entire year’s tension—out of her muscles with a deft, firm touch.
A long exhale escaped her.
“Ahh.” Amado smiled as he looked up. His hands didn’t even pause in their expert massage. “Now you’re starting to relax.”
His fingers worked his way up her instep and over her heel. Thank goodness she’d worn smart, silk panty hose.
“You take good care of your feet.” Her sole buzzed deliciously as he we
nt to work on the second foot. “They’re strong and healthy.”
Susannah laughed. “They’d better be with all I put them through.”
“Tomorrow, we’ll walk in the vineyards. You can stay tomorrow, can’t you?” The sudden concern in his eyes tugged at something inside her. Why did he care if she stayed or went?
“I’ll be here. I can’t go home without your DNA. I could get fired.”
Amado frowned and his fingers stopped their vigorous and soothing movements. “You’ll get fired by the guy who’s supposed to be my father? What kind of man is this?”
“A demanding one.” She tried not to pay attention to the way he cradled her foot in his hands. “He expects the best from all his employees.”
“Surely he can’t fire you for something I’ve done, or rather, refused to do?”
“Sure he can. He’d see it as firing me for my failure to execute.”
Amado looked thoughtful. Then he bent his head and resumed his precise massage. Susannah tried not to wriggle on the sofa as he nailed one pressure point after another, creating sensations of deep relaxation and startling pleasure.
She allowed herself to sink back into the cushions. To let go.
A night in Amado’s bed in exchange for the DNA sample.
Her skin tingled at the prospect of those magic hands roaming…all over it. She suppressed a shiver of anticipation.
She was sure he’d keep the bargain. There was something old-world about him. He positively reeked of honor and integrity.
And sensuality. Their eyes met. Desire darkened his eyes and a spark of…something leaped between them.
Amado settled her feet gently on the ground. He rose and crossed the room.
She exhaled with relief as his intense and dangerously handsome presence receded into the shadows.
Spend the night in my bed.
His words from earlier—spoken half in jest, no doubt—seemed to hover in the air, thickening it. The crackling fire echoed the heat building and snapping inside her.
She hadn’t made love in a long time.
Actually—not to put too fine a point on it—she hadn’t made love ever. She’d had sex, but not for, oh…well, it was just plain embarrassing to think about how long it had been.
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