She wanted an answer, but he didn’t have one to give her. “And I don’t know what to tell you, Bren. Can’t this be enough for now?”
She laughed. “Hell, I’m not sure it’s not too much already. Maybe we should just quit while we’re ahead. Before things go bad again.”
Brenna wasn’t wrong about that, but it didn’t mean he wanted to take her up on it. “That’s the second time today you’ve played that card.”
“Maybe it’s worth thinking about.”
“Are you kicking me out?”
Her half-smile gave him his answer. “This place is still half yours, you know. For the moment.”
He ran a hand down the smooth skin of her arm. “Then I think I’ll stay tonight.”
“About the symphony thing…”
He lifted a hand to stop her. “I’ll send a car. You don’t have to get in if you decide you don’t want to.”
“That sounds fair.”
“In the meantime…” He reached for her, and Brenna slid neatly into his arms, molding her body to his. He let her push him onto his back, and the curtain of her hair fell around them, seeming to block out everything else.
This wasn’t his average Saturday night. Jack leaned back in his chair at Dianne and Ted’s kitchen table and reached for his beer.
With his and Brenna’s new truce secure, he’d fully planned to spend the evening in bed, making up for lost time. Around six, though, Brenna had informed him she was due at Dianne’s for dinner, and that he was welcome to come along.
He tried to remember what had been on his calendar for tonight—before he’d cleared it to come to Amante Verano. A business dinner? Another charity event? Probably something black-tie.
Instead, he sat at an only partially refinished antique table after a simple family meal, nibbling on cashews and getting soundly beaten in Scrabble.
And, surprisingly, he was enjoying himself.
Brenna held Chloe in her lap, unsuccessfully attempting to keep the tiles out of the baby’s reach. “Where’s my E?” Brenna asked. “I know I have one. Aha!” She pried the tile out of Chloe’s chubby fist and placed it on the board.
Jack looked at what she played. “Olpe? That’s not a word.”
Brenna counted her points. “Yes, it is. An olpe is a wine pitcher or flask. Ted?”
Ted nodded. “She’s right. It’s a word.”
Brenna shot him a triumphant look. He countered the look with, “Is it English?”
Dianne returned from the kitchen at that point and leaned against the arm of Ted’s chair. “I told you not to play with them. They cheat.”
Ted pulled his wife into his lap. “We do not cheat. We just have bigger vocabularies.”
Dianne and Ted had been surprised when he’d arrived with Brenna earlier tonight, but after a few interesting looks he didn’t quite understand had passed between them and Brenna, they’d set another place at the table for dinner. The conversation had been stilted at first, but they’d warmed up and now treated him like a long-lost family member.
Which, in a way, he guessed he kind of was.
Brenna rescued another tile from Chloe’s mouth and handed her a soft toy to play with instead. “There’s no need to be a poor loser, Jack.”
He looked at the board and at his tiles. Nothing he could play now that Brenna had used the L for her non-existent word. He shook his head and passed. “I’m wondering why Dianne doesn’t get a dictionary and shut you both down.”
Her cheeky grin snared him. “Because then it wouldn’t be any fun. Would it, Chloe?” she asked the baby, burying her face in Chloe’s neck and making them both giggle.
It was a nice picture. Brenna laughing, relaxed and glowing. Not something he could say he’d seen in a very long time. She was obviously happy, and he was glad he hadn’t listened to either his attorneys or his accountants when they’d expressed shock over his plans to give control of the vineyard to Brenna.
“Brenna, I got a call from Charlie today. He says his Chardonnays are almost ready.”
That perked Brenna’s interest, and she leaned toward Ted. “Wow, that’s sooner than expected.”
“I’m going to go over tomorrow and test myself, but we could be getting grapes from him early next week.”
“Charlie often wants to jump the gun,” Brenna cautioned.
“I know, and I’d planned to get ours in first, but…”
Ted and Brenna were just starting to get excited about their conversation when Dianne interrupted. “Stop it, both of you.” Dianne rolled her eyes and moved out of Ted’s lap. “Can we talk about something else for one night?”
Jack rushed to back her up. “I’m with you, Dianne.”
“Thank you, Jack. For once I’m not outnumbered by grape geeks at the table, and I’d like to take advantage of that.”
Ted mumbled something under his breath and toyed with his glass. Bren flushed a shade of pink that clashed with her hair. They both looked like children who’d been caught playing with a favorite but off-limits toy. Ted looked so disappointed Jack almost relented to the conversation.
But it was all he could do not to laugh out loud at them both.
Ted cleared his throat. “Rumor has it a new winery is opening in Napa…”
“Ted!” Dianne chastised.
“What?” Ted spread his hands in innocence. “It’s not about our wine…”
Brenna caught his eye then, and when he winked at her she smiled in return.
Two hours later Ted carried a sound asleep Chloe to her room as Dianne wished them goodnight and he and Brenna started the walk back to the main house. A full moon lit the vineyard, and crickets chirped all around them. It was quiet otherwise, almost idyllic, and then Brenna slipped her hand into his as they walked. This was more than just a truce—it seemed he and Brenna had something else started. And, despite his words earlier, that idea was growing on him a bit.
Brenna squeezed his hand. “You were a good sport tonight.”
“Because I let you cheat at Scrabble?”
“I don’t cheat.” Brenna smacked his arm playfully. “But that’s not what I meant. I know tacos and Scrabble aren’t your idea of a fun Saturday night, but…”
“I had a good time, Bren.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Brenna fell quiet and he wondered what she was thinking. “But this is nice, too. I’d forgotten how quiet it gets out here at night.”
“It’s not San Francisco, that’s for sure.”
He stopped and pulled her close. “It has its own charms.”
Brenna stood on tiptoe to brush a quick kiss across his lips. “It is a nice night. Feel like going for a swim?”
A vision of Brenna, wet and slippery, flashed through his mind. He returned the kiss—a hungry one this time, that left Brenna swaying against him—and led her toward the house. “Later.”
Brenna’s vineyard had one thing San Francisco didn’t: Brenna.
Chapter Nine
“YOU know, Brenna, I don’t know if this is such a good idea.” Dianne carefully unwound a lock of Brenna’s hair from around the curling iron and the hot curl landed against Brenna’s neck.
Brenna met Di’s eyes in the mirror. Dianne shrugged and reached around her for a comb to section off another piece. Brenna sighed. “I know. I mean, me and Jack again? It’s crazy and it doesn’t make any sense at all, but I just can’t help it.”
Dianne cleared her throat. “I was actually referring to this up do. I’m not sure your hair will hold the curl.”
Brenna flushed. “Oh.”
“However,” she said, as she twisted and pinned up another lock, “if you’d like to talk about this thing with Jack, I’m certainly willing to listen.”
Brenna went back to filing her nails while she thought. Dianne didn’t say anything. Finally, unable to meet her eyes again, Brenna asked, “Do you think I’m making a mistake? Getting involved with him again?”
“Are you two involved again? I mean, are we t
alking about just a little temporary thing or are you thinking this might be long-term?”
Brenna tossed the file onto the vanity. “I wish I knew. This weekend was amazing. After we quit fighting, at least. It’s like all the old baggage is gone, and we’re kind of starting over.” That much was true, and the giddy, lighthearted feeling she remembered so well had her grinning so much most of her employees were giving her strange looks. If only she could shake that other, not-so-giddy feeling that sat low in her chest like a shadow of doom…
“In bed?” Dianne twisted and pinned another piece of hair into place.
“What?” She had to scramble to catch up with the conversation. “Oh. Well, that kinda is where we started from the first time.”
“And that ended well.” Dianne snorted.
“We were younger then. This time we’re actually talking, too. Ouch! Easy, there.”
“Sorry,” she muttered. “Hold still, okay?”
Brenna squared her shoulders. “There’s a lot to Jack—more than meets the eye—and he seems to understand me now.”
“Well, it’s good someone does.”
She made a face at the mirror. “You’re so funny. I’m not that complicated.”
“So you say. I’d say the fact you’re running off to San Francisco to hook up with a guy you couldn’t tolerate last week falls smack into the ‘beyond-screwed-up’ category.”
That same thought had occurred to her as well, even if she hadn’t wanted to admit it. “So you do think this is a bad idea?”
Di shrugged and reached for the curling iron again. “I don’t know what I think. I don’t know Jack as well as you do, but I know you don’t have a history of making good decisions when it comes to him.” Her voice dropped a notch. “I just don’t want you to get hurt again.”
Me neither, she thought, then shook it off. People change. Things change. They could both learn from the past. “I’m an adult. I know what I’m getting into.”
“Do you?” Dianne stared sharply at Brenna’s reflection. “What’s changed? What’s so different about this time that will keep it from going horribly wrong?”
She’d been asking herself the same question for two days now. “We’re older. Wiser. Less volatile. We understand things better now. You saw him Saturday night. Tell me he’s not different than he used to be.”
“He does seem to be calmer than he used to. And he gets major points for playing along at taco and Scrabble night.”
“See? We were just too young to cope with the reality of a relationship. Now we’re not.”
“That’s great, Brenna. Really.” Di’s words sounded forced.
“You think I should quit while I’m ahead?”
Dianne rested her hands on Brenna’s shoulders and squeezed gently. “I just want you to be happy, Brenna. If Jack can do that, then great—I’m on board. But don’t let one fabulous weekend in bed and those flowers blind you to everything else. Use your head this time, too, okay?”
Brenna thought of the enormous arrangement of peonies and hydrangea on her desk in the office. “How’d you know about my flowers?” The flowers had arrived Monday afternoon, but Brenna had intercepted the delivery up by the entrance to the vineyard. No one had seen them arrive—or at least that was what she’d thought—and she’d stashed them where no one—Dianne specifically—should have seen them. At least Di didn’t know about the late-night phone calls…
“That’s what you pay me for, right?” Dianne pushed one more pin into the mass of Brenna’s hair and eyed it critically. “That should do it. Close your eyes.”
Brenna did, and Dianne sprayed her handiwork liberally with hairspray. Coughing, Brenna waved the mist away from her face.
“What do you think?” Di asked.
Long, loose ringlets framed her face, while the rest of her hair was up in an artfully arranged chignon. “You’re a genius, Di. Now for the dress…”
Brenna held her breath as Dianne worked the zipper. The simple black sheath hugged her curves, making her feel feminine and elegant, and the beading around the neck and hem caught the light of the afternoon sun and sparkled. She slid her feet into Dianne’s prized pair of slingbacks, and twirled in front of the mirror. “Wow,” she said to her reflection.
Dianne eyed her critically and tugged at the hem of the dress, straightening it. “Wow is right. You clean up nicely, Brenna.”
“In your clothes.” She laughed as Dianne handed her jewelry and a handbag. “I’d be going to this shindig in jeans if not for you.”
“That’s my lucky dress. It’s what I was wearing the night I met Ted.” Di collapsed into the chair Brenna had only recently occupied and smiled at the memory.
Brenna winked at her. “Sounds more like a get lucky dress. All the better.”
“You don’t need my dress to get lucky tonight. Just be careful, okay?”
“Your dress is safe. I doubt Jack will be ripping it off my body.”
Dianne stared at her evenly. “I’m not worried about the dress.”
A movement of something black outside her window caught Brenna’s attention, and she moved the curtains fully aside to check. “Jack sent a limo. He doesn’t do anything halfway, does he?” She grabbed her overnight bag and shawl.
“Brenna…”
“I hear you, Di. And I will be careful. I’m not some naïve kid anymore.” She wrapped Dianne in a one-armed hug. “Thank you. For everything.”
“Have fun. You’ll be home when? Tomorrow? Friday?”
“I’ll be back by Friday for sure. Jack leaves for New York that morning. Hold down the fort for me.”
“I will.”
“Just don’t forget to check—”
“It’s under control. Go. Have fun.”
She didn’t recognize the chauffeur who took her bags and offered a hand to help her in the car, but he had a friendly smile as he introduced himself as Michael.
“And may I say how lovely you look, Miss Walsh?”
“Thank you.” She settled back against the butter-soft seats and sighed. The last time she’d been in a limo Jack had been with her. They’d been out somewhere, but left early because they were fighting again. They’d reconciled in the privacy of the back seat, and she’d knocked the decanter of Scotch to the floor with her enthusiasm. They’d been drunk off the fumes by the time they’d arrived home…
That was the story of her life with Jack. Fight. Make up. Fight. Make up. The when, the where and the what might change, but the pattern was part of the whole. Funny how she couldn’t quite remember what that fight had been about, but she could remember exactly how Jack had held her, and the things he’d whispered in her ear…
Man, it was stuffy in here. She fumbled with the air vent, directing the cool air at her heated cheeks. Di’s concerned face swam into focus. She had a point: why should this time be any different? And what, exactly, was she hoping for? A new start with Jack? Just a good time? And for how long?
Miles of vineyards flew past her window in a blur as the limo passed through the Sonoma Valley toward the city. Much more than fifty miles separated Amante Verano from San Francisco. It was a whole different world—one that she’d failed miserably to join or even enjoy the last time.
Was Dianne right? Was she walking right back into a disaster? Had this weekend been just Jack humoring her, or could he really want her—Scrabble and all—again?
It could be different, she told herself. She and Jack didn’t have any misconceptions about each other anymore. They knew where they stood, and she was a big enough girl to know when to pull the plug on this experiment. But she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t at least try. She’d always wonder otherwise…
Belatedly, she noticed the small bouquet of flowers tucked into a vase on the bar. White orchids tied with a red ribbon, with a small envelope peeking out of the blooms. As she pulled it free she saw her name written across the front in Jack’s bold handwriting. It felt lumpy in her hand as she released the flap and pulled out the note i
nside.
Glad you decided to come after all. See you soon.
Jack’s initials, MJG, were scrawled in the corner, almost illegible if she hadn’t seen them a million times before. She shook the envelope and something sparkly landed in her hand.
A bracelet. No, an anklet. The sunlight, muted slightly through the tinted windows, caused the rubies set in a thin gold chain to flash. Rubies—because she’d told him once that diamonds were too cold and rubies reminded her of her wines.
Jack had a good memory. Orchids and peonies, not roses. Rubies, not diamonds. An anklet because she didn’t like bracelets because they caught on things. Little things that should have faded from his memory long ago, but touched her now simply because they hadn’t.
She propped her foot on the seat and fastened the chain around her ankle. The slowing of the car caused her to look up, and she saw the orange railings of the Golden Gate Bridge. How had she got here so fast? This really was the point of no return.
The limo crawled through the city traffic at an infuriating pace. Now that she’d made the decision, got in the car and clasped Jack’s gift around her ankle, she was eager to see him. Her heartbeat picked up as the limo pulled to a stop. But it wasn’t the multi-colored awning of Garrett Towers outside her window.
It was the concert hall.
Michael opened her door and extended a hand to her. “Don’t we need to go get Jack first?” She didn’t want to imply Michael had forgotten to stop at Garrett Towers…
“No, Miss Walsh, Mr. Garrett asked me to bring you directly here.”
“So he’s inside?”
“Mr. Garrett has been delayed in a meeting. He will meet you here shortly.” Michael extended his hand again to help her out.
She definitely didn’t want to go inside alone. “Can’t you take me back…?” She stopped as Michael’s eyebrows went up a fraction of an inch. Of course not. That would be silly.
Boardroom Rivals, Bedroom Fireworks! Page 10
