A Seductive Proposal (5 page)

He was right about that.

What a view.

She let her gaze drift over broad shoulders that flowed in perfect symmetry to a narrow waist. She sighed. She knew what he looked like naked and what the backend part of him felt like beneath her hands. Her body lit on fire just looking at him. She realized it was a little strange to see him with clothes on. She worked to keep her cheeks from growing warm.

When at last he looked back at her she let her gaze drift to the cliffs beyond just as though that was all she’d ever been looking at. She smiled. “The best part of my job is this view.”

Her gaze found his face again. His lips were parted as his blue eyes bored into hers. She felt that blush climb her cheeks anyway. When his gaze fell to her chest, she knew he was doing the same thing she’d been doing.

She said with forced cheer, “I didn’t expect to see you again. The truth is, I can’t imagine why you would be here since I think I made my position on the winery clear in my fax from a couple of days ago.”

After a good long moment, he lifted his gaze to her face. “Your fax was only specific as to how and when I could obtain your winery, although
over my dead body
was a little gruesome, I thought. But you failed to say why you were so adamant against selling. I thought maybe we could talk about that.”

How had she forgotten the deep timbre of his voice? She could still hear his rough resonance sliding over her cheek,
come for me.
And she had—how many times?

Stop it, Carly.

Focus.

“Okay, let’s talk. Why do you want my vineyard?” Her knees trembled so she sat down in one of the brown leather club chairs opposite her desk. She gestured for him to do the same, but he remained by the window.

He took on his mountain lion look. He fixed his gaze, predator-like, on her face.

So this wouldn’t be simple.

No surprise.

“Does it matter?” he asked.

She narrowed her gaze. Was this his strategy? He would ask, she would answer, that sort of thing?

Her hackles lifted prickling her skin.

Well, she had no intention of offering up information if he wasn’t going to take part in the conversation. She crossed her arms over her chest and just looked at him. Maybe she didn’t know a lot about negotiating, but she did know that he had come here wanting something she had, not the other way around and he could damn-well answer her questions.

He returned her firm gaze, stare for stare, and within a few seconds the air became charged. Her chest constricted and her breathing grew uneven.

Regardless, she held her ground.

His direct blue gaze never left her face.

She shivered. She had looked into those gorgeous eyes so many times, on her back, on her side while looking over her shoulder, tangled up in his body.

He had made love to her how many different ways?

Stop thinking about that.

She kept silent, then blinked at him as ironically as she could.

Then the corner of his mouth tilted just a little. His lips twitched.

She couldn’t help it. This was silly. She smiled.

He chuckled. “You know, your smile got me all the way up to the Rim. No wonder I set up camp in your bed for the whole night. I forgot how beautiful you are.”

Carly swallowed hard. “Just stick to the point at hand, Mr. Barron.”

He chuckled again. “I want Red Canyon Vineyards because it will help me put a deal together with prospective clients who own wineries in the California Napa-Sonoma area. Common ground is an excellent springboard and Sedona is a perfect place for sightseeing and shopping. But more than that, I want a winery in my portfolio. Period. And I’ve set my sights on yours.”

“Then you don’t have a particular love of vine-tending or farming or viticulture?”

“No,” he stated. “Although I do enjoy a good glass of wine.”

“You have a love of money and my vineyard will help you get more. Is that it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m not interested in selling. This winery has been in my family for over a hundred years. I intend to keep it there.”

He narrowed his gaze. After a lengthy pause, he said, “At least let me buy you dinner.”

“There’s no point.”

“Maybe not, but I drove all this way and I’m hungry. This was your last tour so I’m thinking you’re as ready as I am for a good meal. You choose the restaurant.”

She ought to say no. Any sensible woman would say no. So of course, she said, “Sure.”

She understood the depth of the mistake when she watched him smile.

He appeared so satisfied. He looked like a mountain lion that had just jumped off a big rock and brought down a doe. She sort of felt a pair of fangs in her neck.

She rose to her feet. “I’ll want to go home and clean up. How about I meet you at
Chez Henri
at Tlaquepaque in half an hour?”

He nodded. “Sounds good.”

“It’s the first driveway as you approach the complex, the parking lot off to the right. Just in case, here’s my cell number.” She pulled a card from her desk and handed it to him.

“Perfect. Half an hour. See you then.” He headed for the door then disappeared into the lobby.

Carly moved to her desk and put the folder away that contained the new medical plans. She’d made a mistake and needed to change the last page. Not tonight, though.

After locking her desk she went into the lobby.

“Any messages or business I need to take care of?” she asked.

Tina lifted a pink post-it and waved it in the air. “A message from Grace. She said she’s worked up the final designs for the winery house and wants you to take a look at them.”

Carly felt a little burst of excitement. “That’s fantastic.” She and Grace had been working on the designs for the past six months. Grace was a brilliant interior designer and had won numerous awards. She was also a paraplegic and had built her design business in Sedona against great odds. It meant a lot to Carly to be able to give her this business.

Once in her car, she put her earpiece in, punched in Grace’s number and headed out of the Jeep bay. When Grace answered, she gave her a quick run-down on the Quint Barron situation. “I’d come over tonight, but I’m having dinner with him with one intention, to impress him with his need to get out of Dodge.”

Grace chuckled. “I’ve always admired your spirit.”

“Ditto. I’ll call you soon to set up a time so that we can get this ball rolling.”

* * * * * * * * *

Just a little after six, Carly sat down opposite Quint at
Chez Henri
. She smoothed the linen napkin over her lap.

“Are you doing anything special tomorrow to celebrate the Fourth?” he asked.

The harmless question surprised Carly. For some reason she’d expected him to browbeat her into giving him the winery. On the other hand, small talk could be a tool to smooth the way yet from her point of view any part of the evening
not
talking about her winery was time well-spent. “I always drive tours on the Fourth of July. We don’t have as many as we usually would, of course, but that allows me to give time-off to any driver wanting to spend the day with family. How about you?”

He laughed. “I guess we share a similar work ethic and since I have contacts around the world, and the Fourth is of course only celebrated here in the States, I take advantage and make a dozen or so international calls.”

The waiter arrived taking drink orders. She chose a Sauvignon Blanc. He ordered a Cabernet.

“So, how did you come by the winery?” Quint asked.

Maybe if the questions stayed on the straight and narrow she would be all right.

“The winery-line ends with me, it’s as simple as that. I barely knew my second cousin who died almost a year ago to the day. Our family history defines the nature of feuds. My great aunt and my grandmother fought from their cribs. At the same time, my ancestors failed on the reproductive level—I’m an only child of an only child and so was my second cousin and he never married. I think I saw him once in the past ten years. He was at least fifteen years older and I know he always thought of me as a child. I hadn’t been to the winery in a couple of decades when I inherited. The property looked like a tornado had come through and he’d used a bull-dozer to just move things around now and then.”

He smiled. “I take it then that your parents are no longer living?”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. My dad died of a heart attack about ten years ago and my mother of liver cancer before that.”

“So…you’re orphaned.”

“Yes, I am but don’t even think about pitying me. I have a great life and a lot of wonderful friends. And I have a winery you want so that makes my life even better.”

“How do you figure?”

“I think it’s going to be fun tormenting you, what else?”

He growled then laughed. “Well, I have to say your winery and vineyard look terrific.”

“You were out there?”

“The other morning, after I left your house, I went out there to have a look and that’s when I discovered who you were. By the way, you did an amazing job on the renovation. Sheila, my executive assistant, pulled the before-and-after piece from the Arizona Republic.”

“Oh. I should have known you’d investigate. Well, thank you for the compliment.”

The waiter returned with the wine. When he left, Quint raised his glass to her. How relieved she was that he didn’t offer a toast. She put her glass to her lips and took a sip but her gaze settled on his eyes and for the next long stretch of time she tried to determine if they really were the exact shade of the Sedona sky.

She set her glass down and worked on breathing because for the life of her she couldn’t look away from him. He smiled crookedly. She laughed, shook her head, then shrugged.

He glanced past her shoulder to the Mexican courtyard beyond. “So what is this place? Tlaquepaque, I mean.”

Another safe subject. She owed him one. “I know the developer meant for artists to have their studios here, but in the end, the location was better suited to galleries and shops.”

He nodded. “The trees are magnificent.”

“Arizona Sycamores. The original owner wouldn’t sell the land until the trees became part of the development.”

When the waiter returned again and politely asked if they’d decided, she spoke in her less-than-perfect French and ordered chicken in a wine sauce, carrots and salad. Quint chose grilled filet mignon, potatoes au gratin, peas.

Once more alone, she asked about his decision to go to Japan.

“It’s simple. I wanted to be fluent in the language. I’m studying Chinese now.”

Something inside her went mushy and wanting…again. She loved that his interests, even if they were monetary-based, extended way beyond Phoenix. Maybe he should be less accomplished. She just hoped he didn’t play a musical instrument. That would do her in.

“Do you play guitar? Drums? Harmonica?” She clasped her hands on her lap. “Accordion? Bagpipes, maybe?” Her heart thumped.

He chuckled but shook his head. “I’m not musical at all.”

Thank God.

“How about you?” he asked.

“I play the piano a little. Not well enough at all to perform for others. One day perhaps.”

“You speak French.” It was kind of a question.

She laughed. “If you call an exchange of greetings with the waiter
speaking French
. One day I would love to study in France and fill in the vast holes of what I don’t know about the language. I took all that I could in college but that just doesn’t make for fluency.”

He smiled. “No, it doesn’t. Living where the language can get into your bones makes all the difference.”

She sipped her wine and strove hard to keep the conversation away from the winery. When she had exhausted her knowledge of the Sinagua Indians who had once inhabited Oak Creek Canyon, she sought around for something else to discuss but came up empty. She breathed a sigh of relief when the waiter arrived with dinner.

Quint picked up his glass of wine but this time offered a toast, “To a lovely Jeep driver.” He inclined his head.

How nineteenth-century of him.

She could be polite, however. She lifted her stemmed glass and inclined her head as well. He waited until the wine touched her lips before he drank.

He was much, much too agreeable. He ought to wear horns or something, give a girl a break.

* * * * * * * * *

Quint enjoyed surveillance mode. He gathered information from her with every word she spoke, every gesture of her long, elegant fingers, every shift of her expressive brown eyes away from him. He could see her struggle, that while she found him attractive, she had every intention of keeping him at arm’s length.

His body had become one solid vibration seated across from her. He was a missile and she was a lit target, her body, her winery, and anything else he wanted from her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt quite so intent on a woman, maybe because even with the fortune he’d amassed she didn’t just throw her arms around him and hold on. That was her greatest attraction—she wanted him because of the unbelievable night they’d shared. Beyond that she saw nothing but danger signs and held him at bay.

Most of the women he’d ever known, once they understood his net worth, set about laying traps, a hundred or so, in hopes of bringing him down. The effort to rebuke the hunting woman bored him.

But this, a woman who shied away from him like a nervous horse around unfamiliar smells, kept his groin in a constant state of readiness. He wanted her on her back more than he could say. He was a stallion straining in harness and ready to bust loose.

He stayed harnessed though. He wasn’t a teenage boy and he knew how to control himself. He had a critical goal to accomplish here and no matter how much he wanted inside, he would put business first.

He needed to know more about her and he didn’t have a lot of time. His Napa clients would arrive in Sedona in just under a month. Maybe he’d have Brad hire a private investigator and get a full-service contract worked up on her.

He only had to do one thing to maneuver Carly into a malleable position; he had to find her Achilles heel.