She was an adult; she could walk into a party by herself. More importantly, she was the owner of Amante Verano, Max’s pride and joy, and this party was in his honor. She allowed Michael to help her from the limo, and took a deep breath to steady herself as a doorman opened the massive entry doors for her.
She could do this. No problem.
She was also going to kill Jack Garrett later.
An hour later, Brenna was plotting inventive and painful ways for Jack to die as she made awkward small talk with strangers. The fake smile was starting to hurt her cheeks, and she wished she’d stuck to her earlier resolution not to come at all.
Everyone had known Max, so he was a safe and easy topic of conversation for her, but without fail the conversation would turn quickly to Max’s other interests in San Francisco—which she knew little to nothing about—and then on to people she didn’t know and places she’d never been. She had nothing to add to the conversation, and she could only ask so many questions before she began to look like some hayseed hick from the boonies.
She certainly felt like one.
A server offered her another glass of wine, and for the first time in her life she declined. The caterers had the Cabernet too cold and the Chardonnay too warm, totally ruining them both. But several people, on learning she was the vintner at Amante Verano, complimented her on the wines. One older gentleman, who owned a chain of popular restaurants across the state, seemed very interested in adding her wines to his wine list. Jack had been right about that much: this was as much a business affair as a social one. She didn’t feel bad, since it was Max’s celebration anyway and he’d be happy to see his wines’ reputation grow, but if she was making business contacts here it meant everyone else was, too, and that just felt wrong.
Escaping to the ladies’ room, she touched up her lipstick and checked to see Di’s up do was staying put. For once, Di was wrong: her hair was holding the curls just fine, and none had escaped the mass of pins she’d used to hold them in place.
She stared at herself in the mirror, oddly pleased with herself. In spite of everything, she’d handled this event just fine. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth: she, of all people, had just mingled her way into what could lead to a lucrative business contact. A small surge of pride moved through her.
She hesitated, though, before heading back out into the party proper, and glanced at her watch one last time.
Jack was now an hour and a half late. Damn it. What was keeping him?
“Excuse me. Have we met?”
Brenna turned to see a woman about her age; while her face looked vaguely familiar, she couldn’t place her. She plastered a smile on her face regardless. “Possibly. I’m Brenna Walsh, from Amante Verano Cellars.” At the woman’s blank look, she added helpfully, “Max Garrett’s vineyard?”
“Oh, you’re Jack’s ex.”
She’d known this moment would come. “Yes, that, too.”
“Is Jack here?”
“Not yet, but he is planning to come.”
“Oh, good. It’s been ages since I’ve seen him.” The woman opened her purse and pulled out a lipstick.
“And you are…?” Brenna prompted.
“Libby Winston. We met years ago at another event. I think it was shortly after you and Jack got married.”
Brenna still couldn’t place her, and it must have shown on her face.
“You probably met so many of Jack’s friends, and it was so long ago…”
Embarrassed, she tried to explain. “I’m terribly sorry. I’m really bad at…”
Libby brushed the apology away. “Don’t worry about it. You were so shy and quiet. I’m not surprised you don’t remember many of Jack’s friends.” Libby smiled, but it held no warmth at all. “Everyone remembers you, of course. Jack really surprised us all, getting married like that. And we certainly weren’t expecting you, either.”
What was that supposed to mean? She tried to sound flippant. “That’s the thing about whirlwind romances. They surprise everyone.”
“Thank goodness you came to your senses, then. I never could figure out what brought you two together.”
Brenna officially no longer liked Libby Winston.
Libby’s eyes narrowed in curiosity. “You and Jack aren’t back together again, are you?”
Brenna nearly choked. She had a feeling Libby might be overly interested in the answer, and after Libby’s earlier comment she was tempted to say yes. But Brenna herself wasn’t even completely sure what she and Jack were right now. “Jack and I are business partners.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Technically, they still were. She hadn’t signed the sale agreement yet.
“That must be interesting, considering your past.”
“Actually, it’s working out quite well.” Thankfully her phone beeped, alerting her to an incoming text message. Jack. About damn time. “Excuse me. I need to take care of this.”
She slipped out the door before Libby could bring up any other uncomfortable subjects and read Jack’s message: “By the bar. Where are you?”
A quick glance toward the bar, and she spotted his dark head scanning the crowd. When he spotted her, she waved, and his answering smile gave her a jolt even through her ire at his tardiness.
“Bren, you look incredible.”
He leaned in to kiss her gently on the cheek and she muttered through her teeth, “You’re late.”
“Unavoidable,” he whispered.
“You’re dead meat.”
“I’ll make it up to you.” He pulled back, still wearing that same smile for anyone watching. Stepping back, he let his eyes roam appreciatively down her body. “You look better than incredible.”
The look sent a zing of electricity through her. Damn it, he wasn’t getting off that easy. He’d asked her to come, and she had. The least he could have done was be here. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”
Tugging on her hand, he pulled her close again and said quietly, “Then let me start making it up to you now.”
“What? How?” Jack was leading her behind the crowd, out a side door by the kitchen, and down a back hallway as she sputtered her questions. “Where are you taking me?”
In answer, he pushed open a door marked “Private. Rehearsal Room One.” The door closed behind them, and she heard the lock snap into place. “I apologize for being late. There was a problem with the New York property I had to sort out.”
“And you had to bring me here to apologize?” The small room held a baby grand piano and a music stand, but little else.
“No, I brought you here because I’ve missed you.” Jack sat on the piano bench and pulled her into his lap. “And this room is soundproof.”
That was all the warning she got before his mouth landed on hers.
Chapter Ten
INDICATING the man to his right, Jack said, “Brenna, I’d like to introduce you to the Mayor.”
Brenna’s knees were still weak from their frenzied trip to the rehearsal room, and she knew her cheeks were still flushed. Meeting the Mayor, the Artistic Director, and the First Violin ten minutes after a mindblowing orgasm…surreal. She might not have forgiven Jack completely for being over an hour late, but she was less upset about it now, at least. It still bothered her to think where she ranked on his priority list, but he had searched her out immediately once he did arrive.
And pulled her away for a quickie. As the afterglow faded and Jack glad-handed his way around the room—leaving her alone again quite a bit—her view on that experience began to change a little, too. She felt like a convenience—or an inconvenience, depending how she looked at it.
But standing at Jack’s side while he mingled wasn’t much better either. She got to talk to the same people she’d met earlier. Or at least she got to listen to them. If the conversation had been difficult earlier, it was worse now. The hayseed hick feeling came back in full force, because Jack did know all the people and had been to all the places. And she still had nothing to add to the conversation.
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Two and a half hours down. She might make it through the last thirty minutes, but her patience was wearing thin. She kept the smile on her face, though. After all, these were Jack’s friends and associates. She owed him a sincere attempt after he’d done so well with her friends.
More people had connected the mental dots now, and she received several curious stares as folks tried to figure out why Jack was here with his ex-wife. The more forth-right just asked directly. While she tried to explain her connection to Max through Amante Verano, it rarely satisfied anyone. If one more person referred to her as “Jack’s ex,” she’d pull her own hair out. And Jack wasn’t exactly correcting them either. Not that she necessarily wanted to spread the word prematurely that she and Jack were seeing each other again, but she figured that trip to the rehearsal room at least took her out of the “ex” category.
“Jack! You’re finally here.” Libby Winston leaned in a little too close as she greeted Jack with air kisses. Wrapping her manicured hand around Jack’s arm, Libby anchored herself to his side. If Jack minded the obvious fawning, he certainly didn’t put a stop to it, and it made Brenna a bit nauseous to watch.
“Libby, you remember Brenna?”
“Of course. Brenna and I actually ran into each other earlier in the Ladies’. You two have certainly got speculation flying, being here together like this.” Libby batted her eyelashes at Jack insipidly.
Oh, please. That had to be the most unsubtle attempt to pry out information she’d ever heard.
“Brenna is running Max’s winery now,” Jack answered smoothly.
“She said you two were business partners?”
I’m standing right here, you know. Of course it wasn’t the first time she’d felt invisible tonight, but coming from Libby it was really grating her nerves.
Jack inclined his head, acknowledging the statement without further response, and Brenna wanted to smack him.
Libby forged ahead. “We missed you at Harry and Susan’s Saturday night.”
“I spent the weekend at the vineyard.”
Libby’s eyebrows moved the millimeter allowed by botox. “You, Jack? Rusticating in wine country? The wonders never cease.”
How much longer would she have to stand here and listen to this?
“There’s a first time for everything.” Jack flashed Libby his ladykiller smile, and Libby practically swooned.
“I trust it won’t be a regular occurrence, then? Weekends in the country?”
“Surely you know me better than that, Libby?”
Libby narrowed her eyes at Brenna, but Brenna held the same smile she’d worn all evening. She wouldn’t give Libby the satisfaction. She, better than anyone, knew Jack’s feelings about wine country.
Libby batted her eyelashes at Jack again before turning to Brenna. “I promised Tom and Margaret I’d round Jack up—” Libby paused and blinked. “Do you know Tom and Margaret, Brenna?”
Of course she didn’t, and she’d bet next season’s Chardonnay Libby knew that. “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”
“That’s a shame. But,” she continued, “I did promise them I’d drag Jack over so they can finalize those plans for the golf tournament. Do you mind, Brenna?”
“Not at all.” Twenty more minutes. That’s it.
“Bren, would you…?” Jack started, but she waved him silent.
“Actually, I think I’ll just get a refill while you all talk business.”
Jack looked at her strangely. “I’ll only be a minute.”
“No problem.”
Libby dragged Jack away before the words were fully out of her mouth. Jack didn’t even play golf. Or did he? He might have picked up the hobby sometime in the last decade.
Draining the last of her soda, she handed the empty glass to a passing waiter and went to find a place to sit. She slid her feet out of Dianne’s shoes and wiggled her toes in relief. The feeling didn’t extend to her mind, though.
Brenna felt as if she was having a flashback to their marriage. Hell, the whole damn night felt like a re-run. The awkward conversations with his friends, being an outsider…They’d go home, fight, and have make-up sex. But the next outing would bring more of the same. She snorted. They’d already had the fight and the make-up sex tonight. The cycle was complete. History repeated itself. She’d given it her best shot and still fallen short.
A high-pitched laugh caught her attention over the music, and she looked over to see Libby Winston’s head thrown back in over-dramatic style as she found whatever Jack was saying to be hilarious. Libby swatted Jack’s arm playfully, then pulled him close to whisper something in his ear. Jack wore a look of mild amusement as Libby practically shoved her breasts in his face.
It was sickening to watch.
She knew she shouldn’t care, but she couldn’t help the feeling coiling in her stomach. Even more, she didn’t like what that might mean for her.
She shouldn’t have come tonight. She’d been right in her first decision not to come, but for all the wrong reasons. She could be the face of Amante Verano, shake hands and network just fine. It was everything else that was horribly wrong.
But the trip wasn’t in vain. She’d made some good business connections. Hell, she’d even met the Mayor. But this event had also brought home the truth she’d been fighting against all along.
At least she’d been reminded before she got in too deep this time. She and Jack were from different worlds—Libby Winston had just driven that point home for her—and getting involved with him again wouldn’t end any better this time.
Something was bothering Brenna. On the surface she seemed fine, smiling and chatting with some of the biggest names in the community. He’d had many compliments on the wine, and he hoped Brenna was taking advantage of the opportunity to network.
Even though she smiled and nodded and charmed who she could, he could tell something wasn’t right. Tension hummed under everything she said to him, and he could see the uncomfortable set to her shoulders. Even her smile had lost its sparkle.
She slid into the limo with an audible sigh of relief. “Thank God that’s over.”
Why was she sitting on the opposite seat? “You did great.”
“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t horrible.”
“Well, it’s over now, and the night can only get better from here, right?”
“I wouldn’t count on that.” Brenna reached for one of the decanters, sniffed the contents, then poured herself a glass. The tension he’d sensed earlier must have been repressed hostility, because it now filled the air around them.
“Are you still mad because I was late?”
Crossing her arms across her chest, she shot him a dirty look. “It’s certainly a place to start.”
“I told you, it was unavoidable.”
She rolled her eyes. “It always is with you. You wanted me to come to this party, and then you couldn’t be bothered to even show up on time.”
He sighed. “How many times do I have to apologize for that?”
“Don’t bother. We’ve had that fight before. I know how it ends.”
Exasperation set in. Brenna wasn’t making sense. “Then what?”
That lit her fire, and the look she leveled on him nearly scorched him. “I don’t even know where to begin. The wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am in the rehearsal room?”
Wham-bam…? What the hell…?
“Or the fact that right after that I got to watch you flirt with half the female population of San Francisco?”
That was what had her upset? “I was simply being nice.”
She snorted, and turned to stare pointedly out the window.
“Are you jealous, Bren?” He couldn’t keep the amazed amusement out of his voice.
That snapped Brenna’s eyes back to his. “No. Not in the least. I just think it’s rude to expect me to stand there and watch you eat up all that simpering.”
“So you’d rather I be rude to them?”
“Polite party conversation do
esn’t require your head in Libby’s cleavage. And it certainly—” She choked on her ire and turned back to the window. “You could’ve put a stop to it, but you didn’t. It’s like I wasn’t even there.”
The twelve blocks back to Garrett Towers took only a few minutes at this time of night, and they were already pulling to a stop under the awning. The night doorman had the door open seconds later, and Brenna was out of the limo before Jack could even respond to her last comment.
But her game face was back in place as she smiled at the doorman and they walked calmly to the elevator. Brenna’s jealousy was a new experience for him, and, while he didn’t look forward to trying to talk her out of her anger, the fact she was jealous at all did bring him a small bit of satisfaction.
Once the elevator doors closed, he tried to talk her down. “I would think that trip to the rehearsal room proved you have no reason at all to be jealous. In fact, I’m willing to spend all night proving it to you.”
“Not a chance,” she scoffed. “I’m just going up long enough to get my suitcase. I’m going home.”
“Home?” he repeated dumbly. “Now?”
“Yes, now.” She shot him a level look as the elevator doors opened. “You don’t even have to order a car for me this time. I can do it myself.”
The chauffeur had left Brenna’s bag sitting right inside the door, and she grabbed the handle, obviously intending to get right back on the elevator. He stopped her by closing the door and standing in front of it. With all he knew now, he wasn’t going to let Brenna retreat again. “Are you really going to storm out of here just because you’re jealous of Libby and her posse?”
“I’m going home because I realized tonight that I was crazy to think anything would be different this time. Libby Winston’s swooning is only part of it. I won’t just be your accessory again.”
Ah, finally they were at the heart of the matter. Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite sure what that was. He approached her carefully. “Again?”
“Jack…” Brenna’s jaw clenched.
Boardroom Rivals, Bedroom Fireworks! Page 11
