JustOneTaste (6 page)

God, she needed a friend. Someone she could trust, someone
who held her name in their mouth and spoke it carefully as if it really
mattered to them. David had done that, made her name sound like something
special.
You’re a beautiful, dirty, amazing woman. Scream for me, Sarah
Harrington. I want to feel you come around me.

How could he have so thoroughly fooled her?
Had
he
fooled her or had the whole thing been a dreadful misunderstanding? Why hadn’t
she heard a thing from him since?

Bernard Cawley hurried into the room, a thick report under
his arm. Sarah straightened and put on her game face. She couldn’t spend any
more time mooning over recent mistakes. She had work to do.

Bernard launched into the latest update on the upcoming
opening of Melbourne’s second Harry’s Nook. Sarah listened intently, asking for
clarification when necessary. By the time the meeting was drawing to a close,
Sarah was satisfied everything was well in hand. Why wouldn’t it be? She
employed excellent staff and they did their jobs well. Other than for check
signing and making the larger strategy decisions, she was barely needed for the
day-to-day running of the brand.

The realization gave her the sense she’d been set adrift in
an endless sea of nothingness…or possibility.

Possibility?

“One more thing, Bernard.” Her employee turned at the door,
ready for further instruction. Sarah wasn’t sure what she was going to say
until the words were out. “There’s a small local winery interested in stocking
their product at Harry’s Nook. Windy Valley, I think it’s called.” She didn’t
think, she’d memorized the name by heart. “Are they on the supplier’s list?”

“I’m not sure. I can check.”

“Please do. I tried some very nice Shiraz from there
recently. It’s best for the industry all around if we give some of the smaller
producers a chance to shine, don’t you think?”

“Of course,” Bernard agreed. “I’ll make it happen.”

Why on earth did you do that?
Sarah wondered as the
door swung shut behind Bernard.

Maybe it was because it had been almost two weeks since that
night and it was obvious David hadn’t leaked her story to a journalist. Neither
had he turned up here to put the screws on her for shelf space at the wine bar.

Perhaps it was simply that she believed every word of what
she’d just told Bernard—small local merchants produced unique wines that kept
the industry from growing sterile. She did believe in giving unknown operators
a chance to become known, to thrive.

In the end Sarah feared she’d given Windy Valley the
go-ahead for more sentimental reasons. David’s words filtered back to her. He
could have been cruel. He could have been hurtful. He certainly could have been
petty. But he hadn’t been any of those things. His voice had been gentle, kind,
perhaps even sincere.
I’m going to miss you, Sarah. I hope you find what
you’re looking for.

So Sarah had been the one left feeling hurtful and petty.
Not to mention alone.

And lonely, as always. When was it going to end?

Chapter Seven

“In one hundred meters, turn right into Butcherbird Road.”

Sarah followed the directions issued by the disembodied
voice of her car’s navigation system, her heart pounding as the distance
between her and her destination closed. She tightened her grip on the steering
wheel and asked herself again what she was doing. Why couldn’t she have left
well enough alone? If David Genero wanted to refuse her company’s offer to
stock his Shiraz in Harry’s Nook, that was his choice. There was no reason it
should cause Sarah such vexation.

Yet his turning down their offer—and second offer—had vexed
the hell out of Sarah. Who did that? What kind of businessman cut off his own
nose to spite the face of the person he ought to be selling to? Last night had
been the third sleepless one in a row and the final straw as far as Sarah was
concerned. If double-shot macchiatos weren’t helping, it was time to get to the
bottom of what was keeping her awake.

“In one hundred meters turn left.”

Sarah didn’t need the instruction. She saw the sign advertising
Windy Valley Winery for herself. It marked the entrance to a dirt road flanked
on either side by rows and rows of green vines growing on wooden trellises,
studded by plump purple grapes. Sarah lowered her window and inhaled the heady
fragrance of warm earth and ripening fruit. The afternoon sun slanted across
the plants, turning the leaves all different shades of green. She stopped the
car and took a moment to appreciate the stillness of the landscape, so
different from the bustling cities she’d always lived in. The quiet throbbed in
her ears.

“You have reached your destination.”

“Good information, duly noted,” Sarah groused, muting the
voice option on the device. “Unless you’ve got some advice on how to face your
most embarrassing mistake in the flesh, keep quiet.”

She’d driven the hour from the city in a fit of pique that
had made the idea of seeing David again seem so reasonable. People didn’t
refuse offers made by Harrington Enterprises, and Sarah had to know why David
was being so obstinate. If the attitude he’d shown her wine buyer on the phone
had anything to do with what he thought of Sarah, then she had to set him
straight. Personal opinions had no place in business. Whatever ill-will he had
toward her was irrelevant.

Right, Sarah. That’s why your heart’s performing like it
would in an intense personal training session.
She hated to think the real
reason she’d driven out here was to find out exactly how David did feel about
her, but the closer she got to the estate proper, the more tenuous her grip on
the steering wheel became. Her palms were sweating at the possibility he might
be hostile.

Which she may well deserve.

The more she’d thought about it over the past week, the more
she’d started to consider the possibility she’d misjudged David. The shock he’d
displayed in the face of each and every one of her accusations appeared genuine
in hindsight, not the slick act she’d assumed at the time. David hadn’t faked
his name, he’d never told her he was someone other than who he was. He assumed
she knew his identity when she called him David, a common enough name that it
was shared by him and her escort. A coincidence, but not outrageously
improbable. And if he’d been using her to get exposure for his product, he
would have accepted the company’s offer, surely?

Unless he’s holding out for something bigger. Was his
ploy all along to get you out here, Sarah?

The façade of the small retail facility appeared to her left
and Sarah pulled in beside it. There was one other car parked in the section
marked “visitors” but Sarah had learned from her research the cellar door
wasn’t open to the public until the weekend. The wood-framed glass doors were
closed, the name
Windy Valley
etched across the panes, the small logo of
purple circles and swirling blue lines an artistic representation of
wind-tossed grapes. There was a small picnic area to the right of it, timber
tables and bench seats dotting the ground beneath two massive elm trees. Beyond
that was a small cottage painted yellow with a wraparound porch of stark white
drooping with vines that would no doubt flower in spring.

It was a small outfit, with a rustic style that immediately
charmed. As Sarah opened her car door, two black-and-white working dogs came
pelting from behind the shop, barking in greeting. At home, her family had
always kept Afghan hounds, so Sarah wasn’t intimidated by the energetic leaping
of the border collies. She held out a hand in a friendly gesture and they both
sniffed her curiously. Then Sarah picked up the slobbery stick one of the dogs
proffered and tossed it a good distance.

“Buster! Keaton! Get back here.”

The owner of the voice accompanied the call with a few sharp
whistles, which caused the dogs to stop in their tracks. Ears pricking up, they
peered behind them and awaited their master’s approach.

In the next instant David rounded the side of the building.
His attention was momentarily fixed on controlling the dogs so Sarah took the
opportunity to drink in the sight of him. He wore dusty work boots, grimy faded
jeans that fit the shape of his long muscular legs and a red-and-black flannel
shirt. His face was obscured by an Akubra hat that was bent out of shape around
the brim and a pair of dark wraparound sunglasses.

He appeared every inch the country dweller, a man who spent
his time outdoors tending to his vines. He couldn’t have looked more different
than the person she’d originally met in Melbourne, yet his presence was as
spellbinding now as it had been then.

“Sarah.”

Other than a hint of surprise, there was no telling
inflection in his tone. Was he happy to see her? Angry? Afraid she was turning
out to be a maniacal stalker?

When Sarah stood by her car, hesitating over what to say—so
unlike a Harrington to do that!—David sauntered toward her, Buster and Keaton
trailing excitedly behind. “Sorry about the dogs. I usually lock them out back
when I’m expecting visitors.”

“That’s fine,” Sarah finally managed to speak. “I wasn’t
expected. And I like dogs.”

Thrilled with this information, one of the canines leapt up
and planted his big dirty paws on Sarah’s dove-gray Prada pantsuit.

“Keaton—down!” David scolded the animal.

The dog pinned its ears back in a show of remorse and once
again dropped to the ground. Unperturbed by his mate’s strife, Buster deposited
the saliva-coated stick onto one of her patent leather Jimmy Choo pumps.

“So you really like dogs, huh?” David’s rueful humor
alleviated some of Sarah’s discomfiture.

She laughed as she bent to pick up Buster’s prize and throw
it to him. Both animals chased after it with a series of yelps. “They’re only
clothes. I’m fine.”

He remained silent as he studied her. She couldn’t see his
eyes behind those concealing sunglasses but she sensed his perusal taking her
in from head to foot. Did he think her ridiculous for wearing such an
expensive, professional outfit to a rural vineyard? Sarah had decided against
changing into something more casual before she’d left the office. This was a
business meeting, after all. She didn’t want David to get the idea she had
hunted him down for personal reasons.

So stop staring at him like he’s Beluga caviar on toast,
why don’t you?

“I came to make you an offer.”

The edges of his sensuous mouth kicked up at her blurted
statement. First hesitating and now blurting. Why was she so darned nervous?
“Someone from your company already contacted me. Didn’t you get a report or
something?”

“I was told you aren’t interested in selling any product to
Harry’s Nook.”

David lifted one of those wide shoulders. Sarah heard the
fabric shifting against his skin. “Then you got the message.”

Sarah forced her mind away from the thought of David’s taut
flesh beneath the shirt. That tantalizing sprinkle of chest hair was visible at
the wide-open V of the flannel. She cleared her throat. “I think you should
reconsider.”

“Do you?” He slipped off his sunglasses and regarded her
with those steady brown eyes. His scrutiny made Sarah’s pulse beat faster.
“There are plenty of good vintages for sale in this region. Why would the CEO
of such a successful chain of wine bars come all the way out here to procure my
little-known Shiraz?”

Why indeed? Professional suit or no, it was impossible to
obfuscate the truth. No way would Sarah herself be here if this was a simple
business transaction. “I wanted to make sure your reluctance has nothing to do
with what happened between us.”

“It has everything to do with that.”

His blunt response startled Sarah. “So you are being
spiteful.”

“Spiteful?” His laugh was full of irony. “How do you
figure?”

“You’re angry about the way I treated you—perhaps rightfully
so.” His head cocked to the side at that, his gaze losing its rancor. That
attentive expression melted her insides and she pushed on while she still
could. “I behaved badly so I understand why you wouldn’t want to do business
with my company. But you have a quality product and I’m willing to buy it. I
hate to see anyone make a poor business decision due to some personal
vendetta.”

“Vendetta?” He chuckled. “Oh, Sarah, this isn’t mob country,
you know. I don’t have any kind of grudge against you.”

“You don’t?” When he shook his head, his lips curving, Sarah
pressed, “Then why would you refuse to sell to me? It’s bad for business.”

“And I can see that offends your sense of professional
ethics,” he noted, clearly amused. “Is that what you drove an hour out of your way
to tell me? Or was there some other reason for your visit?”

Despite the way her face burned at the teasing suggestion in
his tone, Sarah drew herself up to her full height and treated him to a
scathing glare. “Are you insinuating I came especially to see
you
?”

He took a step toward her. Placing a hand on the roof of the
car, he inclined his body toward hers. His nearness shaded her from the
slanting afternoon sun but replaced its heat with that emanating from his body.
“Not insinuating. Hoping.”

Tingles, both delicious and frightening, chased themselves
all over Sarah’s skin. Her breath grew shallow. Damn him for being so
straightforward and compelling her to face the truth—she
had
come here
to see him. An employee could have been relied upon to handle the situation
with diplomacy but she’d traveled the distance herself, alone. Because she’d
needed to see if the unique spark that had struck alight between them three
weeks ago was still there.

Now, for better or worse, Sarah had her answer. The passion
that had flared between them on their previous encounter was no fluke. Merely
standing this close to David had her breasts humming, their tips growing rigid.
Her belly was laden with hot moisture, her pussy lips engorged, intuitively
recalling the sensation of David’s tongue working them open and delving inside
her most private spaces.

Sarah swallowed past the ball of lust that had formed in her
throat. “I owe you an apology.”

“For mistaking me for a gigolo or for accusing me of intent
to blackmail?”

He apparently found his own question entertaining, which
didn’t make it any easier for Sarah to take. “For the latter, definitely. As
for the former… I may be embarrassed to have you know that but I won’t
apologize for it. I have every right to have my needs…attended to.”

Oh, could she be any more mortified? David studied her face,
then took in the long column of her throat and the open buttons at the top of
her silk blouse. “And were they attended to…satisfactorily?”

Sarah’s heart thundered and the needs they were discussing
regenerated with vigor. “I can’t forget about it,” she admitted breathlessly.

A sigh fell out of him. His voice lowered, rumbled, as his
attention focused on her mouth. “Neither can I.”

“You gave me so much and I did the wrong thing by you. I want
to make amends.”

His smile was lethal, brimming with wicked possibilities.
“How so?”

“Let me help the winery. Let Harry’s Nook stock your
product.”

Abruptly, David pulled back, making Sarah lean forward,
reflexively chasing the kiss she’d thought he was about to bestow. He stared at
her, his expression incredulous. “You’re on about the wine again?”

Of course she was
on about the wine
. Wine was his
business and hers. “You don’t sound pleased.”

He took two steps backward, his work boots stirring up the
dirt beneath his feet. Resting his hands on his narrow hips, David assessed her
as though she were a touch insane. “I don’t get you, Sarah.”

“What’s to get? You produce something that I sell. If
there’s no acrimony here, there’s no reason we can’t come to some kind of
arrange—”

“I stocked that cheese in the back fridge, Dave.” A young
woman with a smooth chestnut ponytail emerged from the cellar door,
interrupting them. She wore jeans that appeared almost as dusty as David’s and
a flannel—hers in blue and black. She also carried a baby on her left side. “I
gave everything a good wipe down and stocked the change till… Oh, I’m sorry. I
didn’t know you had company.”

The woman glanced between David and Sarah with open
curiosity. Sarah stared at her and the child she carried. He wore a pair of
denim overalls and a floppy
Thomas the Tank Engine
hat. He stared at
Sarah with huge brown eyes and smiled, displaying two solitary teeth.

“Kerri, this is Sarah.” David introduced them with obvious
reluctance. Sarah’s attention returned to him with a snap at his disgruntled
tone.

“Oh, hi, Sarah.”

Turning back to the woman, Sarah tried for a smile but it
was shaky on her lips. Her stomach had taken a nosedive and she didn’t like
where her thoughts where headed, especially when Kerri handed the baby over to
David as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Would you mind holding
Jaxon for a sec? I’ll be right back. Nice to meet you, Sarah.”