Chaos Among the Vines (Romancing the Vine Book 2)

by Gemma Brocato

  Slinging his arm around her shoulders, Will led Avalon back into the office. “Guin, let’s see that credit card. I think a call to Drake and the sheriff might be in order.” He grimaced. “And I’d better call my dad as well.”

  Chapter 20

  “That bitch’s timing is horrible,” Will groused.

  Mumbling about checking her email, Ava escaped the office and dashed up to the house, where she’d no doubt transform back into the well-organized machine he’d first met. Damn, he’d been so close. His balls still ached, pounding in time with his brain as he pored over the items Guin had confiscated from Meg’s box o’ trouble.

  Guin dropped the phone back to its cradle. “Yeah, it’s like she wasn’t satisfied stealing money from you, she had to steal your peace of mind as well. Sheriff’s on his way.”

  “Did you try Drake?”

  “Left a message.”

  “Thanks.” Will looked away from the legal documents and the illegal credit card scattered on his desk.

  “Uh, Will . . .” The note of concern in Guin’s voice made him jerk his head up.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

  “After you left, I checked inventory on bottles.” Her hesitant words confirmed his fear that the hits were going to keep on rolling.

  “Just spit it out.” He slouched low in his chair, bracing his shoulders against the high back and planting his feet firmly on the floor.

  “According to the records, Meg was supposed to order new stock.”

  “I approved the expense a couple weeks ago. Right before you and Ava . . .” Oh, fuck. He remembered sucking his breath in through his clenched teeth as he signed the requisition. The bottom line expense, outside of his down payment on the vineyard, was possibly the highest bill he’d ever incurred. Bottles weren’t cheap. “She never placed the order, did she?”

  “Doesn’t look like it. The supply should have arrived a week ago.” Guin rose from her seat and paced behind her desk. “I called to verify when to expect the shipment. According to them, they provided an estimate, and faxed a bill for a signature, but never received confirmation that we wanted the product.”

  He hunched over the desk and dropped his head into his hands. “I signed the check.”

  “And she probably deposited the funds directly into the Meg’s-a-shitty-thief account she had set up on the side.”

  Anger snaked through him. Ava was right. He was way too disorganized to run a business. Now, he was sitting on vats of highly valuable wine and had nothing to dispense it in. I’m a fucking idiot. “How fast can we get shipment?” In order to pay for the extra shipment he’d have to tap funds he’d reserved to buy Dad’s land.

  Will stared out the window, the glare of the lowering sun spearing against his eyeballs. The bright future he’d looked toward this morning, great business and a great woman at his side, looked dimmer right now.

  “Don’t know. Want me to check?” Guin reached for the phone.

  “My fault, I’ll call. Can you try Drake again? I need him out here as soon as possible. If you can’t find him, check with Penny. Maybe she knows where he is.” He tossed her the flip phone. She looked at it as if it were an antique, which in the world of technology, it probably was.

  Pressing the hands-free button on his desk phone, Will dialed the bottle supplier’s number from memory. “Could you also place a call to my dad? Might as well let him kick me while I’m down.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Will had been in a shit mood and hadn’t joined them for dinner. Avalon had been surprised to learn he was still at his desk after the sun had set. It was unlike him. But then Guin confided over their chicken stir-fry dinner the extent of Meg’s villainy and ineptitude. The lack of bottles could very well result in the vineyard missing the window to ship the huge order. According to Guin, Will’s negotiating skills, while admirable, hadn’t gotten him anywhere. The supplier was adamant about charging a twenty percent expediting fee, despite the circumstances.

  Then Guin changed the topic to fashion and a new dress she’d ordered.

  After dinner, Avalon had stepped out onto the front patio facing the office. Fluorescent lights burned in the twilight, illuminating Will as he sat at the desk, talking on the phone. She started down the path to the other building, but halted when a truck pulled into the lot and parked. A man hopped out of the vehicle and strode into the office.

  In the distance, she saw Will glance up as the slamming door echoed back toward her. He tossed down the pen he’d been tapping on the arm of his chair. Slouched further in his chair as the other man plopped into Guin’s chair. Even at this distance, Avalon registered the tension on Will’s face, and the anger on the other man’s. By the nearly identical look of the men, and the apparent difference in age, Will’s dad, Jared Bradford, had come to make Will’s evening a whole lot worse.

  She stepped back into the house, climbed the stairs to her room, and shut herself in. She couldn’t intrude on family business. Especially business that was messy and as far from streamlined as possible.

  Avalon stood at the window in her bedroom, staring out into the dark. From downstairs, the sounds of Chuck Mangione’s flugelhorn played out his unique style. Her mother used to listen to his music in the station wagon whenever she’d had a good day, usually ignoring Avalon’s warning they needed to conserve the batteries for things like . . . oh, say, being able to motor somewhere. Or running the heater on the coldest nights. At least Mom was in a good mood.

  In contrast, Avalon couldn’t pin a label on what she felt. She leaned her head against the cool windowpane and did what she did best. She inventoried and categorized her emotions.

  Ignoring the one uppermost in her mind, she started with determination. She was going to get Will and Rolling in the Clover organized and streamlined. And help him fill that large order. That was her job, her obligation. The task seemed a little less uphill this week than it had last week. Will had gradually accepted her workflow suggestions. He needed to if he was serious about buying extra ground. So, noticeable pride in him mingled with her determination. It was an exotic combination. She allowed herself thirty seconds to bask in the glow of her success.

  Next, she explored the uneasiness Guin’s good mood had wrought. The woman had whistled while she boogied around the table to set out three plates. As Avalon stir-fried chicken and veggies in the wok, Guin had kept humming. And actually sang, even though Will hadn’t shown up for the meal. Suspicion started a slow, pernicious climb through Avalon’s brain over her mother’s manic behavior. And bringing with it worry about Bad-Ass. She drew tight circles on her temple, like the motion could wipe out the picture of the scary enforcer.

  Next on her list to explore was disappointment. She’d begun to look forward to sitting down with Will at the end of the day to discuss business, or hear his stories about life in Cloverdale. Hell, he could digress on the price of tea in China and she’d probably find it fascinating.

  She’d missed his presence tonight and that brought confusion. Made her think of things she didn’t want to consider. Like, maybe he’d become more important than was healthy for her.

  Which led to an exploration of the one emotion she’d be ignored by cataloging all her other emotions. Her feelings about Will.

  Good heavens, just thinking his name while scratching the surface of her yearning for him made tingles jump to life in her tummy.

  She moved to the bed and stretched out, staring at the ceiling. Not likely she’d find any kind of answer there. Her attraction to him felt as out of control as a flash flood in a champagne factory. Effervescent, bubbling, and downright intoxicating. His drugging kisses, his strong and steady caresses. Heat flared into her cheeks as she let her eyelids drift shut and replayed each kiss, each grip of his arms and press of his chest. Will had a skilled mouth,
and he wasn’t hesitant about sharing it with her.

  She was so far gone when he’d stripped off her watch, and threatened to pitch it into the pond, she’d almost grabbed it from him to do the deed herself. Avalon covered her face with her hands.

  The throb that had taken up residence between her thighs kicked up and started a party due north. Her breasts got heavy, her nipples tingled, and an insistent tug flashed from deep inside her, climbing until it lodged squarely under her heart.

  She moaned, in part because the tingles within felt so freaking awesome as she relived the exploration of his lips and hands. And in part, the moan came because reason came knocking with it.

  He. Is. The. Client. She had no business giving in to a desire for him that vied with professionalism in her brain.

  On the nightstand, her watch—the one she’d left stashed in her pocket since this afternoon—and her phone started buzzing. Thankful for the distraction, she seized the phone and answered without even looking at the display.

  “Hey, cutie.” Beth’s calm voice hit her eardrum. “Thought I’d check in on your stress level, since you haven’t called. Did you find another massage therapist there in Cloverdale?”

  “Haven’t had the time,” Avalon replied. Although, Will had rubbed her neck so wonderfully.

  “Avalon, what have we talked about?”

  “There is always time for magic fingers.” Just saying magic and fingers together brought the tingles alive again.

  “Good. I have some names of some good technicians in Cloverdale.”

  “Beth, sweetie, how do you know people way up here?”

  “We have an association. I asked for recommendations.” A chuckle, one third humorous and two thirds exasperated, echoed through the phone. “You’re not the only efficient person in the world, you know.”

  “Got it.”

  “Um, Avalon?”

  Oh, no. This was where Beth got nosy. Avalon didn’t reply, knowing her friend would continue without a response.

  She was correct. Beth’s voice dropped low. “I went by to check on your place, like you asked. Um . . .”

  Not nosy. Concerned. The muscles in Avalon’s neck gripped hard. “Spit it out, Beth.”

  “I think you’ve been broken into.”

  Avalon surged upright on the bed. “What?”

  “The door was still locked, but your television is gone. And your couch and treadmill. Along with a couple other things. And the drawers in your desk have been tossed. You want me to call the police?”

  “No!” Bad-Ass’s hard, cold eyes blinked into her mind. “No. I sold some stuff to get Mom out of a jam. Guess I forgot to mention it to you.” Except, she’d left her desk neat and tidy. So maybe the collector had come back after she and Guin had blown out of town. She chewed her lower lip, biting hard enough to yelp with pain.

  Beth was the one of two friends who knew about Avalon’s history. Well, until she’d spewed the facts to Will. Beth harshly expelled a long-suffering kind of sigh. “Cutie, why do you keep bailing her out?”

  Avalon shook her head, knowing Beth couldn’t see. “Don’t know. She was in deep trouble. I fixed it for her, but this will be the last time.” She hoped. And judging by the fact her desk had been searched, she wasn’t sure she’d fixed it well enough. Nausea slithered like a snake in her torso. She kept her credit card information in the desk. If that’s what Bad-Ass had been looking for, she could be located. She made a mental note to remind Mom not to use any cards anywhere.

  “Listen, don’t go back to my condo. If the person I think is responsible for the break-in, I really don’t want you near there.” She was going to have to figure out how to contact Guin’s former employer and ask him to call the dogs off.

  “Thought you might say that. I grabbed your ivy plant and brought it to my office.” That was Beth, nurturing and loving.

  “Thanks.”

  “So, what’s up with Wonderful Will? Is he as gorgeous as his picture?”

  “Where’d you see a picture?”

  “Cutie, you are not the only person with mad Internet skills.” Her laugh edged on wicked. “I’d wager he has pretty competent hands. Maybe you can talk him into a massage.”

  “You can tick that box already.” His hands were so much more than competent.

  “What?” Beth’s screech forced Avalon to pull the phone from her ear.

  When it was safe again, she tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder and settled back against the pillows complementing the quilt Penny had spread on the mattress. “He rubbed my neck on our picnic this afternoon.”

  The resulting shriek made her regret putting the phone back to her head. “Girl. You don’t do picnics. And you certainly never do them on a weekday. What the hell?”

  “Would you believe me if I told you he conned me into it?”

  “Probably. But it isn’t like you in the least.”

  “Maybe I’m changing.”

  Beth snorted. “Not likely, cutie.”

  “I can change.”

  “Girl, it isn’t like you to lie to yourself.”

  She could change. Look how close she was to chucking all her self-preservation tactics. Giving in to the insane urge to find Will and shuck her inhibitions and prohibitions about the client-consultant boundary. So damn close, she was wet between her legs.

  It seemed pointless to try correcting her friend, so Avalon kept quiet, unsure how to defend her own assurances.

  “Listen,” Beth paused, then rushed on. “If you really think you can change, you should go for it. See where a relationship with Will can go. You deserve some fun. And you really deserve to let go and get laid by a man who looks damn good in a two-dimensional photo. In real life, in all his 3-D glory, I bet he is irresistible.”

  Footsteps climbed the stairs. The heavy tread signified a man’s steps. Will.

  Irresistible, gloriously sexy Will. Who’d used his hands, teeth and body to indicate his interest in her. Well, the more relaxed, spontaneous version of super-efficient Avalon, anyway.

  The steps paused outside her door for a beat, and the door rattled in the frame, as though he’d leaned against it. But then he moved on. She heard his door latch.

  “Ava,” Beth called her by the nickname she used sparingly. The one that sounded so flipping great on Will’s lips. “Opportunity is knocking. Prove to me . . . prove to yourself you can change.”

  “You’re right,” Avalon admitted.

  Opportunity had just leaned on her door, then moved away. I’d be a fool not to chase it down.

  Chapter 21

  Avalon eased the door open quietly and padded toward the bathroom she’d been sharing with Will. At the spot where he’d kissed her this morning, she relived the moment behind closed eyelids. Excitement seeped through her, starting at her brain, ending with butterflies in her belly and then tickling even lower.

  She stepped in front of the mirror. Studiously avoiding her own gaze, afraid she’d change her mind, she evaluated her outfit. Peach-colored drawstring sleep shorts and a cream camisole. A shiver ran up her spine as she fantasized about Will stripping off the meager clothing. Still not meeting her eyes in the mirror, she ran nervous fingers through her hair until it transformed to sufficiently tousled and sexed-up bed head. Then she pinched her cheeks, flicked off the light, and started down the carpet runner to Will’s bedroom door.

  Doubts crept in and her steps lagged as she drew closer. She hadn’t seen him since the confrontation with Meg in the office. What if he’s come to his senses and decides he doesn’t want me?

  What if he decided dealing with her obsession with organization and tightly reined control was, in addition to everything else on his plate, more than he was capable of tackling?

  Drawing to a stop, hand aloft, palm flat
against the raised panels of the door, Avalon worried her lower lip. Curling her fingers, her nails dug into her palm. She needed an excuse for being there. Other than the obvious reason. Then if he turned her away, she could pretend she’d only come about business.

  She snorted derisively. Right, like she’d ever conduct business in a client’s bedroom in her pajamas.

  Any rejection would sting less if Will didn’t know she’d shown up in his room because she wanted something a little more . . . personal from him.

  She was doing this. Inhaling a deep breath and holding it, she tapped on the final barrier to her mind’s arguments.

  “Come in.”

  His quiet command, his gravelly voice, tightened everything inside her in a supremely delicious way. The crystal doorknob was sharp and cool under her fingers.

  Then she was in his bedroom. And closing the door behind her with a tiny shake of her head. No going back now.

  The soft glow of a lamp on the nightstand cast a pool of light on the edge of the bed. Will lounged against the headboard, sheet draped low over his hips, his long legs outlined, one knee raised. Was he wearing pants? She couldn’t tell, but her brain took a little vacation, imagining the possibilities. An opened book rested on his otherwise bare chest. Her fingers twitched with the desire to jerk the concealing item away, drag the sheet from his hips, and dance her fingers over all that smooth skin.

  “Ava?” The word held more than a question. It held hope.

  “I, um . . .” Her wits totally deserted her as he shut the book. It thunked to the floor when he dropped it over the side of the bed.