A Taste of the Untamed

by Susan Stephens

  ‘You should move into the main house,’ he said brusquely.

  He had already turned and was on his way, having anticipated Grace’s immediate compliance—her gratitude, even.

  ‘Is that your acceptance speech?’ she said, calling him back. ‘Have you been speaking to Elias, by any chance?’

  ‘You’ve spoken to him too?’ he said.

  ‘I might have done,’ she fudged. ‘So, am I to stay, Nacho? Is this your invitation?’

  ‘I suppose you could call it one,’ he conceded brusquely.

  ‘But why would you want me to move into the main house?’

  ‘Because you’ll get the assistance you need there, obviously.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ she said.

  ‘You’ll be more comfortable,’ he explained impatiently, knowing he should try to be more diplomatic.

  ‘I’m very comfortable where I am, thank you,’ she said coolly. ‘And I wouldn’t dream of inconveniencing you.’

  ‘Don’t be so ridiculous, Grace. How would you be inconveniencing me?’

  ‘By making you more angry than you are now? By having you walk on eggshells during my stay? By making you feel duty-bound to watch over me?’ She finished the tirade with an angry gesture. ‘How much more time must I waste convincing you that I don’t need any special treatment, Nacho?’

  ‘How much time would you waste?’ he fired back incredulously.

  ‘Haven’t you got it yet?’ she said. ‘I’m completely independent.’

  ‘Don’t tell me what to think, Grace,’ he warned. ‘If you’re going to work for me, I’ll show you the same consideration I show all my staff and not one iota more. Unless, of course, you’re looking for pity?’

  ‘Well, thanks for the heads-up,’ she flashed, ‘but I’m not working for you. I’m working for Elias. And if I were looking for pity—which I’m not—you would be the last person I’d turn to.’

  He took a step back as she slammed the door in his face. Raking his hair with angry fingers, he was forced to admit that she’d got one thing right—he was the last person she should turn to. But that didn’t change anything. His mind was made up.

  Balling his fist, he hammered on the door.

  ‘What now?’ Grace demanded, flinging it wide.

  ‘Do you mind if I come in for a moment?’

  ‘It’s your guest cottage,’ she reminded him with a shrug.

  She stood well clear as Nacho walked in, and was glad of Buddy’s warm presence nestling protectively against her legs. Closing the door after him, she heard Nacho start to pace. The room seemed smaller suddenly, and the air swirled around him as if it were in turmoil too.

  No one had ever affected her like this. No one had ever frightened her quite so much, or made her want things so much she couldn’t think straight. She’d been a fool to imagine she could ever do business with Nacho as if they had never met—as if she had never felt his hands on her arms or his lips on her mouth.

  ‘I can see you’re coping really well, Grace.’

  Not right now she wasn’t.

  ‘Please don’t patronise me,’ she flashed. ‘And please don’t feel you must make a speech. There are people far worse off than me who pick up their lives and get on with things. I don’t need your sympathy, Nacho. I’m here to do a job. All I ask is that you treat me like anyone else and make no allowances. You don’t even have to be around while I’m working. I’m quite happy to liaise with your people and with Elias back home. I can draw up a report and send it to you as soon as we’re finished. You don’t even have to know I’m here.’

  ‘Grace, please sit down.’

  ‘I prefer to stand, if you don’t mind,’ she said, keeping the back of the chair between them like a shield.

  ‘As you wish. You’re right. I have spoken to Elias and we have agreed that you may taste the wine.’

  ‘Really?’ For the sake of her old friend she somehow managed to hide her affront.

  ‘And when you’ve finished the tasting,’ Nacho went on, ‘I’ll arrange for your flight home.’

  ‘There’s more to this job than tasting wine.’ She was in turmoil, and her promise to Elias hung by a thread. Her body was pulled one way by Nacho’s sheer magnetism, while her mind was being pulled another. She wanted to stay, to experience more of Nacho, and yet she wanted to tell him to go to hell. She forced her thoughts back to business. ‘Elias needs a lot more information before he’s in a position to place an order.’

  ‘Enough,’ Nacho said firmly. ‘That is all.’

  ‘Are you firing me?’ Before he had chance to answer, she demanded, ‘On what grounds?’ Her resolve to remain calm and concentrate on business had completely vanished as her anger increased. ‘You haven’t even given me a chance to prove myself.’

  ‘I don’t have time to waste on a novice. And I won’t take chances with family money. I need an expert now, Grace.’

  ‘So let me get this straight. You’re prepared to allow me to taste the wine, but any comment I make will be classified as one amateur chatting informally to another?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Grace. I realise how disappointed you must be.’

  ‘You have no idea,’ she said bitterly.

  ‘Please don’t worry about your homeward journey,’ Nacho went on, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘You will be flown home in my jet, and I’ll smooth your path at the other end—’

  ‘I don’t need you or anyone else to smooth my path,’ she interrupted angrily. ‘Believe it or not, Nacho, I’ve been doing very well on my own without your help. I’m quite capable of booking a scheduled flight and having a cab take me to the airport! ’

  ‘And your dog?’

  Grace went still. Hadn’t they warned her at the rehabilitation centre to always give herself time to think? Couldn’t she see why now? ‘I’m sure I can arrange something,’ she insisted, her stomach churning as she hoped that was true.

  ‘There’s no need,’ Nacho assured her calmly. ‘It’s all in hand. And you don’t have to worry about Elias, either. I’ll explain that you didn’t feel ready for an assignment of this size.’

  ‘And he’ll laugh in your face,’ she said, realising time was running out as she heard Nacho’s hand on the door handle. Against all that was sensible she wanted—needed—him to stay.

  ‘My decision on this is final, Grace.’

  ‘You’re making a big mistake.’ Following the sound of his voice she put her hand on his arm—only to draw it back again as if she had been burned.

  ‘It’s a job that’s too big for you, Grace,’ Nacho argued. ‘Elias expects too much of you. And the outcome is far too vital for me to take a chance—’

  ‘On a blind woman?’ she flashed.

  Silence greeted this, even as shame scorched her cheeks. That had been a low blow, and one she had promised herself she would never resort to.

  ‘You disappoint me, Grace,’ Nacho said quietly. ‘I was about to say for me to take a chance on a novice like you. Restoring the family vineyards is a multi-million-dollar venture and I won’t risk failure.’

  ‘Which is why you consulted Elias, presumably?’ she said, playing her last card. The thought of leaving this job unfinished, of leaving with her tail between her legs—the thought of leaving Nacho and maybe never seeing him again—was devastating to her. ‘Don’t you trust Elias’s judgement?’

  ‘Up to the point where we met in London—and then Elias conveniently forgot to tell me that he wouldn’t be coming to view the vineyards himself.’

  ‘He hasn’t been well recently.’

  Silence told her that Nacho had had no idea about this.

  ‘I only saw him recently,’ he said in a puzzled tone.

  ‘He hides it well,’ she admitted.

  Shifting position, Nacho exhaled heavily. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

  But not sorry enough to change his mind, Grace concluded, hearing the door open. Nacho was happy to accept the judgement of a master vintner like Elias, but he was not prepar
ed to listen to a girl he associated with nightclubs, silly costumes and trays of drinks.

  With nothing left to lose, she said, ‘As my time here is short, shall we get the wine-tasting done tonight?’ The only way to convince Nacho she had anything to offer was to prove herself to him.

  The door squeaked, as if he were pulling it to again, which she took to be a good sign.

  ‘How about a blind tasting?’ she suggested without a trace of irony. ‘Elias warned you have a very fine palate … for an amateur.’

  ‘Are you insulting me? Or is that meant to be a compliment?’

  Was that a touch of humour in Nacho’s voice at last? Her body heated at the thought while her mind told her to remain focused on her job. ‘I thought it might appeal to your competitive spirit,’ she said innocently, dragging greedily on the scent of warm, clean Nacho.

  ‘Go on,’ he prompted.

  She heard the door click shut. ‘I’m inviting you to share a sensory evaluation of your wine with me.’ Why did that sound so suggestive and risky? She pressed on. ‘You’ll have the advantage of sight, while I can only use my other senses.’

  ‘How many advantages do you think I need, Grace?’

  Nacho’s voice was carefully neutral, but she suspected he had decided to accept her challenge. ‘This will be your chance to discover if I’m as good as Elias says I am.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said. But just when she was silently rejoicing he added, ‘Pack your case and if you fail you’ll be ready to leave.’

  ‘I won’t fail,’ she said, firming her jaw.

  ‘I guess we’ll find out tonight, Grace,’ Nacho murmured, sounding utterly confident that the result would go in his favour.

  She felt the cool night air on her face as he opened the door.

  ‘I’ll be back to collect you at six,’ he said.

  ‘And I’ll be ready for you,’ she promised as she moved towards the door.

  With a gasp she stumbled over a chair leg, and would have fallen to the floor if Nacho hadn’t caught her.

  ‘Grace—’

  She was in his arms, which felt so good, so safe, so right. But it wasn’t supposed to be like this. Nacho wasn’t supposed to be rescuing her because she couldn’t see where she was going. The only time she wanted him to hold her like this was under very different circumstances. And that clearly wasn’t going to happen …

  She pulled herself upright.

  ‘Sit down, Grace. Catch your breath,’ he said, stepping back.

  The cold tone in Nacho’s voice told her everything she needed to know. He had been as far from being about to kiss her as it was possible to get. Why would he want a blind woman when he could have any woman?

  ‘Goodbye, Grace.’

  He closed the door carefully behind him—and then hit the wall backhanded with his fist. He barely felt the blow. All he felt was Grace—in every part of him. However hard he tried to fight off the feeling, Grace fought back with her indomitable spirit, her unique qualities, and her sheer unadulterated sex appeal.

  Saving Grace when she’d stumbled had only reminded him how attractive she was—and how emotionally inconvenient spending time with her this evening would be for him. The thought of kissing Grace had lost none of its appeal, and if he hadn’t seen first hand how one rash decision could spread disaster like ripples on a pond he would have done more than kiss her. But he had enough on his conscience already without yielding to his every whim.

  Her world seemed darker than ever now Nacho had gone. She curled up in a chair with her thoughts in pieces. Mostly they were centred on her arms, where he’d held her, and on her mouth, where he hadn’t kissed her.

  Why would he? Why would anyone want to kiss a blind woman? She could prove herself to as many people in as many ways as she wanted, but she could never get past the fact that she was blind. That was how people saw her—how they would always see her—how Nacho would always see her. The joke of it was she had forgotten she was blind while she had been with him. She’d smiled and laughed and parried his comments, even got angry with him—all of which had felt perfectly normal and exciting. He’d made her forget what she might be missing out on and had filled her world with so much more besides.

  But now he’d left it was as if that light had gone out and now there was nothing but darkness around her again. And fear was back, fierce and strong, and fear said no one would ever see past her blindness.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  IT WAS no use. Feeling sorry for herself would get her absolutely nowhere. She held the record for proof of that. She had to get on with things.

  The room was becoming increasingly chilly, which meant the sun was close to setting—which in turn meant Nacho would soon be back to take her to the wine-tasting. Whatever had happened between them—now or at the wedding—her job came first, and she was going to look the part by the time he knocked on the door.

  Getting ready for a night out wasn’t so different these days from the way it used to be—other than the thought of spending a whole evening in close proximity to Nacho, which put her on edge. She would just have to get over it, Grace reasoned.

  Having showered and rubbed her hair dry on a towel in the bathroom she had mapped out carefully when she had first arrived, she dressed in what—thanks to Lucia’s system—she knew was a pair of white capris, flesh-coloured sandals and a pale blue, short-sleeved cotton top. She smoothed her hair and tied it back. Make-up was easy. She’d been lucky in that she’d had some warning her sight was going, so she’d had a chance to practise her technique.

  It was so easy for her now that she could actually do her make-up without even thinking about it, Grace reflected wryly as she slicked some gloss on her bottom lip and pressed her lips together. Her cheeks felt hot enough from the thought of seeing Nacho again not to need any rouge, and she was lucky to have been born with black eyelashes. But she still liked her eyeshadow. Two sweeps of the small brush across the pot, blow on brush, apply, repeat. In the early days Lucia had used to stand ready with wet wipes to correct any errors, but then one day Lucia had done nothing, and they had both shrieked in triumph as they threw their arms around each other and hugged.

  A sharp bark from Buddy warned Grace that her visitor had arrived. Carefully feeling her way downstairs, she paused to draw in a steadying breath before opening the door. That bolt of excitement—the way her heart reacted when Nacho was close by—had nothing to do with being blind and everything to do with Nacho. Just the thought of being close to him again made her world tilt on its axis. She didn’t want his pity for being blind, but even more than that she didn’t want him thinking she was an impressionable female incapable of functioning normally and doing her job while he was around.

  ‘Well, this is it, Buddy,’ she said, firming her jaw. ‘We’re all set.’

  She opened the door and the breath left her lungs in a rush. So much for her good intentions, Grace thought, taking a moment to get over the Nacho effect.

  ‘Grace …’

  No matter how cool Nacho’s greeting, the masculinity firing off him was hot, hot, hot. She knew he was towering over her, staring down, and she knew he was very close.

  ‘Hi …’ She spoke brightly, with a smile, trying to sound as if this were a regular day at the office.

  But it didn’t work, she realised when he didn’t speak. Her cheeks fired red. This was like stepping out into the void without a safety net. She couldn’t really tell if she’d managed to dress and put her make up on without making too many goofs. Her hair might be standing on end for all she knew. She smoothed it self-consciously.

  ‘Ready to go, Grace?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  Her throat felt tight as she reached for her briefcase. That was a small victory. She heard Nacho swoop to get it for her, but she got there first. She rarely lost anything these days, because it was so crucial she knew where everything was, and she had left it ready. Hanging the strap crossways over her body, she called Buddy, found the handle of his harness an
d reached for the door.

  Was the air actually fizzing with electricity as she walked past Nacho or was that all in her head?

  He closed the door behind them, and somehow managed to be at the gate in front of them.

  ‘The Jeep’s ahead of you, Grace. Would you like me to put Buddy in the back?’

  ‘That’s all right. I’ll do it.’

  She was going to start as she meant to go on. This was business and she was going to do it right. She felt her way round to the back of the vehicle. It was already open, and she did a good job of loading Buddy. It was only when she came round to the passenger door that she hit a snag. She mapped the door time after time, with increasingly sweaty palms, but she still couldn’t find the handle. She felt so stupid—so hot and bothered—so frustrated.

  ‘I presume I’m allowed to do this much for you?’

  She took a step back as the door opened. Did she appear so prickly and defensive? Grace wondered as Nacho helped her in.

  The answer to that was yes. She wasn’t cut out for the role of victim. But there was no reason to overreact to every little comment he made, either.

  Feeling for the seat, she settled in and Nacho swung in beside her. When he closed the door she had the sense of being contained in a very small space with him. He was a huge physical presence, but then she had always known that. It was Nacho’s physicality and energy rather than the sheer size of him getting to her now, and she was heating up all over just at the thought of his big body closing in on her own small frame. She could smell that he was still damp from the shower and had used some sort of menthol soap … or perhaps that was toothpaste? Anyway, he smelled really good.

  Were her nipples erect? she wondered suddenly. Could she risk checking? She decided not, and crossed her arms over her chest instead as he started the engine and they moved off. She could imagine his powerful hands on the wheel, controlling their direction with the lightest of touches. The leather seats were big and comfortable. She explored hers discreetly, and then relaxed. The seats were huge. There was no chance they could rub up against each other accidentally.

  ‘It’s just a short drive to our newly refurbished wine facility,’ Nacho explained. ‘We could have walked there, but I thought you might be tired after the upheaval of the day.’