It Was Only a Kiss
Joss Wood
For driven businessman Luke Savage success is the only option. So when gorgeous marketing intern Jess Sherwood waltzes into his office and casually informs him that his newly inherited vineyard has an image problem he’s outraged! She’s naïve, overly ambitious, a know-it-all… And all Luke can do to stop her talking is kiss her senseless.Eight years later the vineyard needs a boost – and Luke needs a hip new marketing strategy to save it. Jess may drive him crazy but she’s the right woman for the job.Their only problem is how to keep their minds on work and off that kiss!
The most distracting boss of all…
For driven businessman Luke Savage success is the only option. So when gorgeous marketing intern Jess Sherwood waltzes into his office and casually informs him that his newly inherited vineyard has an image problem he’s outraged! She’s naive, overly ambitious, a know-it-all… And all Luke can do to stop her talking is kiss her senseless.
Eight years later the vineyard needs a boost—and Luke needs a hip new marketing strategy to save it. Jess may drive him crazy but she’s the right woman for the job. Their only problem is how to keep their minds on work and off that kiss!
IT WAS ONLY A KISS
Luke suppressed his smile at her stubbornness.
Within twenty-five meters those spiky heels would be stuck in mud and her stockings would be flecked with dirt.
Luke swung his leg over his bike and turned the key. He gave Jess another up-and-down look and watched for her response. Her expression remained stoic while her eyes heated. He wondered what it would take to get her to lose the mask of sophistication she’d acquired.
He leaned on the handlebars on his bike and spoke casually. “Do you ever think about what we did the last time we met?”
He didn’t need to spell it out…she was a smart girl. Luke watched carefully and saw her composure slip for a fraction of a second before her lips firmed and her eyes narrowed.
“No. Do you?”
“No,” Luke replied.
My, my, my, Luke thought as he pulled away. Look what good liars we’ve become.
It Was Only
a Kiss
JOSS WOOD
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT JOSS WOOD
Joss Wood wrote her first book at the age of eight and has never really stopped. Her passion for putting letters on a blank screen is matched only by her love of books and traveling—especially to the wild places of Southern Africa—and possibly by her hatred of ironing and making school lunches.
Fueled by coffee, when she’s not writing or being a hands-on mum, Joss, with her background in business and marketing, works for a nonprofit organization to promote the local economic development and collective business interests of the area where she resides. Happily and chaotically surrounded by books, family and friends, she lives in KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa, with her husband, children and their many pets.
This and other titles by Joss Wood are available in ebook format—check out www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For my children, Rourke and Tess,
who are all things bright and beautiful.
Contents
Prologue (#uecddac30-7ba8-5daf-84e0-8ed24e68df6f)
Chapter One (#u5833d76c-4c4b-5a86-952b-4194133cd3e3)
Chapter Two (#u9c8fa978-3735-5eb6-ab55-cac81e17e6ff)
Chapter Three (#ud00d3bcf-ac75-506b-88ff-880b8a4ab5a8)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
PROLOGUE
Eight years ago...
‘So, in conclusion, I think the marketing strategy your people presented to you is hackneyed, stupid and asinine, and pays absolutely no attention to your demographics, to the market research or to where your competitors are placing themselves. It’s under-researched and knocked together, and if you follow it I guarantee that you will lose most of your market share in five years’ time—if not your business.’
Luke Savage looked across his messy desk at the earnest young woman perched on the edge of her chair, her face animated with youthful zeal and a healthy dose of arrogance. What was her name again? He glanced down at the file in front of him. Jess Sherwood. She was twenty-two, he read, and was currently doing her MBA in Marketing. The file did state that she was over-blessed with brains—her school and university achievements were, to put it mildly, impressive—but it failed to mention that she was solidly gorgeous as well.
A true brown-eyed blonde.
She was quite a parcel and, boy, did she know it.
Luke kept his face impassive as she draped one long, slim leg over the other and lightly linked her hands around a bare knee, an index finger tapping away. She wore a short, flouncy dress, falling off one shoulder and showing a thin purple bra strap, and belted at slim hips by a broad leather belt. Falling to mid-thigh, it was too short, too casual, and too sexy an outfit for work—but she wore it with careless confidence.
Luke, who was seldom surprised at much, was taken aback by her self-importance and her balls-to-the-wall chutzpah. She’d been placed as an intern for the summer holidays, to gain work experience within St Sylve’s marketing department—his marketing department, since he’d recently inherited the generations-old family vineyard. She’d ambushed him as he’d been about to leave, barged into his office and said that she felt ‘morally obligated’—he curled his lip at the phrase—to tell him that his decisions sucked and his marketing plan was dreadful. And now she had the temerity to predict the failure of his business.
Her mobile rang and Luke hissed his annoyance as she dived for her bag and pulled out the phone, squinting at the display. She flashed him a wide smile that was charming but devoid of apology. ‘Sorry—I have to take this.’
Whatever—I’m just your boss. Why don’t I just wait while you finish arranging your social life?
He felt twenty years older than her, rather than six, and he probably was in experience. University was a dim and distant memory, clouded by the fourteen- to sixteen-hour days he’d been working for the past seven years.
Lately he’d felt perpetually exhausted, but if he’d had the energy he’d have got up and yanked her mobile from her ear and torn her a new one. Which he intended to do when she finished cooing into her mobile.
Her words rattled around his brain... You will lose most of your market...
Hell, he was losing St Sylve. It was failing... Not his fault or his failure, because failure wasn’t what he did—well, it wasn’t what he’d been allowed to do. Sport? He’d excelled at most. Academics? Scholarships and huge job offers had translated into his being able to set up his own company three years ago...one of the youngest venture capitalists in the country. Marriage? Okay, he’d dropped the ball on that one, but in a couple of weeks the divorce would be through and he’d be rid of the credit-card- digesting monster he’d married.
Now, if he could get this other creature out of his office without strangling her, he’d consider himself a saint.
Jess snapped her mobile closed, slipped it back into her bag and looked at him expectantly. Stuck-up, arrogant little witch.
Sexy, though....
Luke’s boots dropped from the corner of his desk to the floor and he stood up slowly, knowing that his face displayed none of his anger. As a child, living with his volatile, demanding father—his mother had died when he was three—he’d learnt early that showing emotion of any sort could be used against him, so he’d perfected his stoic mask.
He watched her through half-closed lids. She looked relaxed, leaning back in the chair, a small smile edging the corners of her very sexy mouth upwards. Give her a couple of years and she’d be hell on wheels...if she could keep her cocky opinions to herself.
‘Interesting perspective,’ Luke said mildly. He saw her mouth open to speak and lifted a finger to silence her. ‘If I cared.’
Mouth open but no words emerging...it was a start, Luke thought. Placing his hands on his desk, he leaned forward with a gesture that was meant to be intimidating and finally allowed her to see his fury. He felt marginally appeased when her eyes widened and she bit her bottom lip.
‘You arrogant, snotty child!’ He deliberately kept his voice even, knowing that harsh words delivered coldly had more of an effect than ranting and raving. ‘How dare you walk into my company and my office and presume to tell me what to do with my business and how to do it? Who the hell do you think you are?’ he suddenly roared, and Jess winced as his words bounced off the walls.
Jess lifted up her hands and he noticed that she didn’t look particularly scared. Hell, she didn’t look scared, period.
‘You don’t understand—’
‘What I understand is that you are a bright young thing who has always been told that she’s wonderful—clever and bright and talented. Pretty too. After so much unstinting admiration and affirmation, how could you think I wouldn’t want to hear the pearls of wisdom that fall so effortlessly from your lips?’
Jess jumped to her feet. ‘Luke, I—’
‘It’s Mr Savage to you! I’m your boss, not your friend! If you want to get anywhere you’d better bloody learn some humility and some respect! I have my own MBA, sunshine, and I’ve run a successful company for years. I have put in the sweat and tears and the work to earn the right to have an opinion. You haven’t!’
‘Stop yelling at me!’
Luke looked at her and shook his head. A part of him—okay, all his boy bits—thought she looked magnificent, with her heaving chest and wild eyes, fury staining her high cheekbones like the rasp of a lover’s beard. She looked furious, but not intimidated, and a part of him had to admire her courage.
A very small part of him.
‘It’s not my fault your marketing plan sucks! I’m just telling you that the St Sylve vineyard will suffer if you do not adjust your strategy!’
‘Because you say so?’
‘Yes! Because I’m damn good at this. I just know it won’t work!’
Luke rubbed a hand over his chin. ‘So, now you have a crystal ball as well? Can you tell me if I’m going to get skinned in my divorce or whether the price of oil will drop?’
‘Of course you will get skinned—that’s what happens when you marry a gold-digger! And, no, the oil price is going to keep climbing. The markets are too unstable at the moment to allow a drop,’ Jess replied.
Luke could not believe that she hadn’t picked up his sarcasm. ‘For someone who’s only been here a couple of months, you seem to be firmly plugged in to vineyard gossip.’
Jess sent him a cheeky grin. ‘Thank you.’
‘It wasn’t a compliment.’
‘I know.’
He was going to kill her. Luke stalked around the desk and gripped her slim shoulders with his much bigger hands. ‘I’m not sure whether to strangle you or smack you.’
Jess tossed her head of honey-coloured curls and looked up at him with bold and defiant brown eyes. A brown so deep it could almost be black.
‘You’re not the type to hit a woman.’ Jess lifted one shoulder and sent him a look that was as powerful as it was ageless. ‘And you’re just annoyed because you know I’m right.’
‘Annoyed? I’m way past annoyed and on my way to incandescently livid.’
Under his hands Jess lifted her shoulders. ‘But why? I’m just telling the truth.’
He was exasperated at her cheek, but he was even more furious because she had his blood pressure spiking and his pants jumping.
‘You are cheeky, conceited, smug and vain,’ Luke muttered as his lips edged their way down to hers. He could see the challenge in those eyes that held his...and as well as not tolerating failure, he also never backed away from a challenge.
Jess tipped her chin up and he could feel her breath on his lips. She felt slight and feminine in his arms, and while he knew that he was playing with fire he couldn’t let her go.
‘Then why are you going to kiss me?’
‘Because it’s either that or put you over my knee,’ Luke growled.
‘But you don’t like me,’ Jess stated.
‘God, how old are you? Attraction has nothing to do with liking someone.’
‘It should.’
‘You’re naïve.’
‘Kissing me would be a mistake,’ Jess whispered even as her lips lifted to his.
‘Too damn late.’
Electricity arced and thunder rolled as he yanked her slim frame into his solid chest, burrowing his hands into her hair to move her head so that he could deepen the angle of the kiss, could touch every corner of her sexy mouth with his tongue. His hand dropped to her lower back and he pulled her against him. His stomach swooped when he felt her hips against his, her small hands sneaking under his shirt to feel the skin of his back and shoulders.
He’d never been this hot this quickly for anyone. Luke closed his eyes as her quick tongue tasted his bottom lip, then tangled with his in a long, lazy slide. One hand held the back of her head and the other skimmed the side of her torso, its thumb sliding over the swell of her—
This had gone too far, Luke told himself. He had to stop this. Now.
Instead he ran the palms of his hands up the back of her silky-soft thighs and gripped her butt.
Holy hell, he thought as his hands encountered nothing but warm skin. Where were her panties...? Their kiss deepened and went from crazy to wild. He massaged her as he pulled her up against him and...oh, there it was. An ultra-thin strand of cotton. He traced his fingers upward and found the T of her thong, embellished with what seemed to be a fabric heart flat against her lower back. Luke hooked his thumb under the T and rubbed that gorgeous patch of skin. So soft, so smooth... He could snap the cord with a quick twist...
Luke wrenched himself away from her, sucked in a breath and hoped that she didn’t notice him gripping the edge of the desk for balance. She looked glorious, with her flashing eyes, swollen mouth and mussed hair. He could take her right now, right here in the late-afternoon sun.
It shook him how much he wanted to see her naked, sprawled across his desk, her body exposed to his hot gaze, her creamy skin flushed with pleasure.
Luke summoned up the last reserves of his self-control and slowly felt his self-restraint returning. When he felt his big brain had the edge over his little one, he stood up straight and wordlessly pointed to the door.
Jess nodded as she straightened her shirt. ‘Right—time for me to leave.’ She rocked on her heels, then dug in her tote bag and pulled out a large envelope which she placed on his desk. ‘A marketing strategy—an alternative to what you have now. Maybe we can discuss it another time?’
Un-frickin’-believable.
Had she heard anything he’d said before he’d kissed the hell out of her? Obviously not.
Luke shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’
A tiny frown appeared between her arched brows. ‘Why not?’
Luke walked around his desk and flopped into his chair. ‘Because you’re fired. Pack up your stuff and get off my property. Immediately.’
ONE
Jessica
I seem to be missing one of my Shun knives. A boning and filleting knife. If you do not return it I’ll be forced to ask you to replace it as I bought it during our trip to the States. They retail for around 200 US dollars.
Grant
Jess Sherwood dropped her head as the e-mail on her screen winged its way to the deleted folder. Grant was smoking something very green and very strong if he thought that she had any intention of paying him another cent. Who had supported him and his extravagant lifestyle when he’d lost his job and while he’d struggled to get his fledgling catering business off the ground?
And, while she’d dished out the money and the sympathy, every day when she’d left for work he’d found something else to do. Or perhaps she should say someone else to do...the blonde living in the simplex opposite them.
Jerk.
The door to her office opened and Jess watched Ally enter, her iPad in her hand. Jess counted her blessings that her stunningly efficient office manager was also her best and most trusted friend.
‘What’s the matter?’ Ally asked, dropping into the chair opposite Jess.
Jess waved at her computer. ‘Grant. Again. Looking for something called a Shun knife. Um...what’s a Shun knife?’
Ally, well acquainted with Jess’s lack of culinary skills, smiled. ‘It’s a brand of expensive kitchen knives. Nice.’
‘Well, if I find it in my kitchen it’s yours,’ Jess said glumly.
‘What else is the matter?’ Ally placed her iPad on the desk.
Jess waved at her computer. ‘Grant’s trying to yank my chain.’
Ally’s bold red lips quirked. ‘Judging by the scowl on your face, I’d say “mission accomplished”.’
Jess wrinkled her nose. ‘He’s the larva that grows on the dung of...’
‘Yeah, yeah—heard it all before. It was over months ago, so why are you still so PO-ed?’
Jess rested her elbows on her desk and shoved her fingers into her hair, considering Ally’s question. It had been a year since Grant had lost his high-powered job as brand manager for a well-known clothing chain, and six months since she’d caught him in their bed with what’s-her-name with the stupid Donald Duck tattoo on her butt...
Since she’d been on top when Jess had walked into the bedroom the image was indelibly printed on her mind.
Okay, so the incident had also catapulted her back to that dreadful period in her teens when— No, she wasn’t going to think about that. It was enough to remember that she now knew the pain infidelity caused—first- and second-hand.
She was now wholly convinced that any woman who handed over emotional control to another person in the name of love had to be fiercely brave or terminally nuts.
She was neither.
‘Well?’ When Jess didn’t speak, Ally shook her head. ‘We’ve shared everything from pregnancy scares—yours—to one-night stands—mine—and everything in between, so talk to me, Jessica Rabbit.’
Jess managed a smile at her old nickname. ‘I’m angry, sure, but at myself as well as him. I’m livid that he managed to slip his affair under my radar—that I wasn’t astute enough to realise that he was parking his shoes under someone else’s bed.’
Ally stood up, walked over to the credenza and shoved two cups under the spout of Jess’s beloved coffee machine. After doctoring them both, Ally handed Jess her cup, put her back to the window and perched her bottom on the sill.
‘I spoke to Nick on my way to work.’ Jess couldn’t help the smile that drifted across her face. It was wonderfully good to have an open, relaxed relationship with her brother again, after years of him operating on the periphery of her life. ‘He’s so damn happy with Clem, and I know that they have something special. The last of my brothers—all of whom sowed enough wild oats to cover Africa—has settled down.’
‘And you’re wafting in the wind?’ Ally placed her hands on the windowsill behind her. ‘And that bothers you because it’s something your brothers have got right and you haven’t. Love is not a contest, Jess. Do you know what your problem is?’ Ally continued.
‘No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me,’ Jess grumbled. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what she had to say...Ally seldom pulled her punches.
‘You raised the topic,’ Ally pointed out. ‘Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear or the truth?’
‘That’s a rhetorical question, right?’ Jess took a deep breath. ‘Okay, I’ll take a brave-girl pill...hit me.’
‘One sentence: you’re so damned scared of being vulnerable that you try to control everything in a relationship.’
Hearing her earlier thought about control so eloquently explained floored Jess. Did her best friend know her or what?
‘Being single suits you and not being in love suits you even better.’
‘Can I change my mind and ask you to tell me what I want to hear?’ Jess protested. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear any more about her romantic failings.
‘To you, being in love means losing control—and to a control freak that is the scariest thing in the world.’
‘I am not a control freak!’ Jess retorted, heat in her voice.
Ally’s mouth dropped open. ‘You big, fat liar! You are all about control. That’s why you choose men you can control.’
‘You are so full of it.’ Jess sulked.
‘You know I’m right,’ Ally retorted.
This was the problem with good friends. They knew you better than you knew yourself, Jess grumbled silently. Deciding that Ally was looking far too smug, she decided to change the subject, vowing to give their conversation some more thought later.
Maybe.
If she felt like digging into her own psyche with a hand drill.
Right now they needed to work. She nodded to the iPad and listened and made notes as Ally updated her on the projects she wasn’t personally involved with. Jess gave her input and instructions and ran through some office-related queries.
They were concentrating on interpreting some tricky data from a survey when Jess’s PA put through a call from Joel Andersen, a much larger competitor whose company owned branches throughout Africa.
He was also one of the few people in the industry she liked and trusted.
Ally started to rise, but Jess shook her head and hit the speaker button. She would tell Ally about the call anyway, so she’d save herself the hassle. She and Joel traded greetings and Jess waited for him to get to the point. Joel, not one to beat around the bush, jumped right in.
‘I was wondering...what did you think about Luke Savage’s e-mail? I presume you’re going to his briefing session for the new marketing strategy he wants to implement for his winery? I thought that if we catch the same flight to Cape Town we could share a car to St Sylve.’
Jess’s heart did a quickstep as she tried to keep up with Joel. She sent a glance at her monitor; she most definitely had not received an e-mail from Luke Savage...
Not knowing what to think, she decided that the only thing she could do was to pump Joel for information. ‘So, what do you think?’
‘About St Sylve? He needs it... I heard that he commissioned market research with Lew Jones and is open to something new and hip. But with two hundred years of Savage wine-making history and tradition, that could backfire.’
She didn’t think so... She hadn’t eight years ago and she didn’t now. It was about time he looked at updating his marketing, Jess grumbled silently. Over the years she’d kept an eye on the vineyard and was saddened by its obviously diminishing market share. The advertising was dry, the labels boring and its promotion stuffy.
And, since she was the only one who’d ever hear it, she sent Luke Savage a silent I-told-you-so.
Jess widened her eyes at Ally, who was frowning in confusion. ‘My PA is just updating my iPad...what time was the briefing again?’ she lied.
‘Ten-thirty on Friday morning at the estate,’ Joel replied.
Bless his heart—he didn’t suspect a thing.
‘So, shall I have my PA look at flights?’
‘Uh...let me come back to you on that. I’ve been out for a day or two and haven’t quite caught up. I have clients in Cape Town to see, so I might fly in earlier,’ Jess fudged, and grimaced at Ally, who was now leaning forward, looking concerned.
‘Well, let me know,’ Joel told her before disconnecting.
Jess scrunched up her face. Damn Luke Savage and his injured pride. Her instinctive reaction was that the St Sylve campaign was hers—it had been hers eight years ago and it was still hers. There was no way she would allow another company to muck it up a second time...
Jess stood and placed her hands on her hips. ‘What do you know about St Sylve wines?’
Ally’s brown furrowed in thought. ‘The vineyard has produced some award-winning wines, but it hasn’t translated that into sales.’
It had taken a bit longer than Jess had thought, but her predictions about St Sylve had come true...and she felt sad. This was one of the few occasions when she would have been happy to be wrong...wished she was wrong. St Sylve was a Franschoek institution—one of the very few vineyards owned by the same family of French settlers who’d made their home in the valley in the early nineteenth century. She’d loved the three months she’d spent at the vineyard—had been entranced by the buildings, so typical of the architecture of the Cape Colony in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, with its whitewashed outer walls decorated with ornate gables and thatched roofs.
Apart from the main residence and guest house, the property still had its original cellar, a slave bell, stables and service buildings.
It also had Luke Savage, current owner, who’d fired her and kicked her off his property after kissing her senseless.
Jess quickly recounted her history with Luke to Ally, who was equally entertained and horrified. ‘He fired you?’
‘I deserved it. At twenty-two I thought I was God’s gift to the world,’ Jess replied.
Learning that she wasn’t had been painful, but necessary. While she hadn’t been wrong about the marketing of St Sylve—as she’d suspected, the campaign had been a dismal failure—she’d been arrogant, impulsive and rude, approaching him the way she had.
Jess paced the area in front of her desk. ‘As much as I hate to admit it, I owe Luke Savage a debt of gratitude for a major life lesson. I needed my wings clipped and to learn that being first in class, being able to regurgitate facts and figures from a textbook, means diddly-squat in the business world.’
Jess put her hands on her waist and looked at the ceiling. Then she sent Ally a rueful look. ‘We had this massive shouting match and then he kissed me. He was a dynamite kisser. A master of the art.’ She blew air into her cheeks. ‘The best ever.’
‘Ooh.’ Ally wiggled her bottom.
‘I don’t even know if I can call what happened between us kissing...it was too over-the-top outrageous to be labelled a simple kiss.’
But then Luke Savage had been anything but simple. Jess sighed. He’d been one long, tall slurp of gorgeousness: bold, deep green eyes, chocolate-cake-coloured hair, tanned skin. The list went on... Broad shoulders, slim hips and long, long legs...
‘Jess? Hello?’
Jess snapped her head up. ‘Sorry—mind wandering.’
‘He sounds delicious, but the question is...what are you going to do about St Sylve? Are you going to go to the briefing session?’
‘Without an invitation?’ Jess looked at the ceiling. ‘I’m tempted. I wish I could demand to implement a strategy for him.’ Images flashed through her head of possible advertisements. Her creative juices were flowing and she hadn’t even seen the brief yet. She really wanted to get stuck into dreaming up a new campaign for St Sylve.
But Luke was still the only man who’d ever short-circuited her brain when he kissed her...and if she was being sensible that was a really good reason not to work for him. She didn’t think she’d be very effective, constantly drooling over her keyboard.
‘Phone the guy and ask him!’ Ally demanded, and Jess managed a smile.
‘Not an option. We didn’t get off on the right foot.’ Jess held up her hand at Ally’s protest.
Why did her stomach feel all fluttery, thinking about him? It had been so long ago...but the thought of seeing him again made her jittery and...hot.
She didn’t want to get involved. She liked being single. She wanted to play on the edges of the circle and keep it all on the surface.
Why did even the thought of Luke feel like a threat to that?
Jess shook her head, utterly bewildered. Where on earth had that left-of-centre thought barrelled in from? Sometimes she worried herself, she really did...
* * *
Luke Savage sat on one of the shabby couches on the wide veranda of his home, propped his battered boots on an equally battered oak table and heaved a sigh. He lifted his beer bottle to his lips and let the icy liquid slide down his dusty throat.
He opened his eyes and watched as the sun dipped behind the imposing Simonsberg Mountain—one of a couple of peaks that loomed over the farm. As the sun dropped, so did the temperature, so he pulled on his leather-and-wool bomber jacket.
‘I take it you saw the monthly financials for St Sylve?’ Kendall said eventually.
‘We’re still not breaking even.’ Luke sat up and placed his forearms on his thighs, let his beer bottle dangle from his fingers. ‘I can’t keep ploughing money into this vineyard. At some stage it has got to become self-sustaining,’ Luke added when his two closest friends said nothing.
Kendall de Villiers shook a head covered in tight black curls. His dark eyes flashed and his normally merry creme-caramel face tightened. ‘We know that your father sucked every bit of operating capital out of this business before he died and left you with a massive overdraft and huge loans. You’ve paid off the lion’s share of those loans—’
‘With money I made on other deals—not from the vineyard bank accounts,’ Luke countered. Kendall knew his businesses inside and out; he was not only his accountant and financial analyst, but a junior partner in his venture capitalist business.
‘The wines we produce are good,’ Owen Black said in his laid-back way.
Luke wasn’t fooled by his dozy, drawling voice. Owen was one of the hardest-working men he’d ever come across. As farm manager, responsible for the vines and the olives, the orchards and the dairy, he got up early and went to bed late. Just as he did.
‘You’ve won some top awards over the last few years, including Wine Maker of the Year,’ Owen continued.
‘It means nothing if we’re not selling the bottles,’ Luke retorted. ‘Our wines aren’t moving—not from the cellar here, and not from the wine shops.’
When both his friends didn’t reply, Luke twisted his lips and said what they were obviously thinking. ‘Because our marketing strategy sucks. It’s boring and old-fashioned and aimed at anyone standing in God’s waiting room.’ Luke leaned back and popped a cushion behind his head. ‘Why didn’t I see it before?’
Because a smart-mouthed girl once told me it was so and I was too full of offended pride to listen to her. And because I had so much else on my plate. I figured I could let it slide for a while... Stupid, stupid, stupid.
The Savage tradition of ‘letting the wine speak for itself’ was being drowned out by the splashy campaigns and eye-catching labels of their competitors. But Luke hadn’t changed it because tradition was everything at St Sylve.
Hadn’t his grandfather and father drummed that into him? Excellence and tradition—that was what Savage men strove for, what St Sylve stood for.
He got the reference to excellence, but tradition was killing him. He had to change something and quickly. Of course, he knew that both his father and his grandfather and every other type of forefather he had would do a collective roll in their graves...but if he didn’t do something drastic to increase sales he’d either have to sell St Sylve or resign himself to using whatever profits he made on other deals to subsidise the estate. At some point he’d like to have a life, instead of working two full-time jobs.
Kendall had returned to the subject of the marketing strategy and Luke tuned in, idly remembering that somewhere he had a copy of the plan Miss Smarty Pants had tossed onto his desk so many years ago. He wondered what he’d done with it. It would be interesting to see what she had to say...
‘Remind me—who is attending?’ Luke asked Kendall.
His friend didn’t need to consult his computer and quickly ran through the names.
‘Not Jess Sherwood Concepts?’ Luke asked.
‘You specifically told me not to,’ Kendall protested.
Luke raised his hand. ‘Just checking.’
Kendall narrowed his eyes and shook his head. ‘Why, I have no idea. Despite being a young company, Jess Sherwood has had some impressive campaigns over the last couple of years.’
‘And you don’t want her?’ Owen asked Luke, puzzled. ‘What’s the problem? Why wouldn’t you invite her to the briefing session?’
Jess Sherwood. He could still recall her big brown eyes and those honey-blonde curls, that gangly body and smooth, creamy skin. The way she’d tasted...strawberry lip gloss and spearmint gum. He could barely remember what his ex-wife looked like, yet he could remember that Jess had three freckles in a triangular cluster just below her right ear.
He would rather eat nails than approach Jess for a new marketing strategy—as good as she was reputed to be. Call him proud, call him stubborn, but she was a sharp thorn in his memory...the hottest and yet strangest sexual encounter of his life.
And, despite being so young, she’d seen the writing on the wall. With all his degrees and experience, his ability to look into the heart of a business and pinpoint the bottlenecks and constraints, he’d been unable to do it for his own vineyard.
Talk about not being able to see the wood for the trees. Or, in his case, the grapes for the vines.
Owen placed his bottle on the coffee table and frowned. ‘What’s your beef with Jess Sherwood?’
‘Jess interned at St Sylve the summer I inherited this place. I was in the midst of getting divorced from Satan’s sister and I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want the responsibility of the vineyard, I was working all hours, and I was...’
‘Miserable?’ Kendall supplied when he hesitated. ‘Depressed, angry, shirty, despondent?’
Hell, he’d been entitled to lick his wounds. He’d always wanted to be part of a family, and had thought that Mercia was what he needed to realise that dream. And she’d promised exactly what he’d wanted to hear...family, roots, stability... What was important to him had seemed to be what was important to her. She’d done an excellent job of camouflaging her true agenda until they were hitched, and when he’d woken up three months later he’d found himself legally bound to a freedom-seeking, greedy, money-guzzling shrew. Over the next two years he’d come to the dawning realisation that he’d been well and truly screwed.
Again. And not in a good way. It still burned that he’d been stupid enough to be so comprehensively manipulated.
As a result he’d made the decision never to get involved in a serious relationship or to allow a woman to clean him out financially and emotionally again. While he’d been grateful to see the back of her, watching his lifelong dream of being part of a family fade had stung. A lot.
Luke narrowed his eyes at Kendall. ‘Do you want to hear about Jess Sherwood or not?’ he demanded. ‘She was as gorgeous as all hell and she knew it. Entitled, privileged, unbelievably annoying. I had barely been introduced to her and had only seen her around a time or two. Then she just barged into my office and proceeded to lecture me on my marketing department. She called them a herd of dinosaurs and threw all those marketing terms at my head. Told me what I was doing wrong and how to fix it.’
‘So you kicked her off the premises?’ Kendall grinned at Luke’s nod.
Owen grinned too. ‘She sounds like a pistol.’
‘Jess Sherwood is such a madam that she’ll gloat about being right, rub my face in the fact that St Sylve needs her—I need her. I just don’t want to have to cope with her.’
Especially if she’s still as sexy as she was. Luke didn’t tell them that he’d kissed her stupid and been kissed back.
‘So I don’t want to deal with her. Big personality clash.’
‘It was a long time ago,’ Owen pointed out. ‘You should at least have asked her to the briefing session to see what she says.’
‘No. I can’t work with her. So what’s the point of her quoting?’ Luke stated, knowing that he said it because if she was still anywhere as hot as she’d been when she was younger he’d have a hard time keeping his tongue from hitting the floor every time she walked into the room. His attraction to her memory was still, crazily, that strong.
It wasn’t like him. He had a calm, satisfying...arrangement with the owner of a wine store in the city. When either of them needed company, or sex, or a date to a function, the other was their ‘go-to’ person. No fuss, no expectation, no emotion—no imagining wild sex on his office desk in the afternoon sunlight...
Luke leaned forward and sent his friends a serious look. ‘Look, this isn’t about a business I’ve picked up and intend to flog. It’s about St Sylve—about getting it back to where it was as the premier vineyard in the country. It’s hard enough dealing with the situation my father left me, let alone her.’
Over the years he’d tried to distance himself emotionally from the estate and the winery, but he still couldn’t manage to treat the multi-generational enterprise he’d inherited like any other arbitrary business.
It was his birthright—both his joy and his burden. His pleasure and his pain. A source of pride and an even bigger source of resentment. He loved and hated it with equal fervour.
‘I think you’re making a big mistake,’ Kendall insisted. ‘She’s a professional...’
‘End of discussion,’ Luke said genially, but he made sure that his friends heard the finality in his voice. He valued their opinions, but the decision rested with him. Jess Sherwood was the type of woman who upset apple carts, turned things on their heads, inside out. While he reluctantly accepted that she was probably exactly what St Sylve the business needed, it would be detrimental to him, to his calm and ordered life.
Just this once he was putting himself first...surely at thirty-six he was entitled to do that once in a while?
TWO
Jess, with Ally at her side, walked into the tasting room adjoining the St Sylve cellars, looked at the chairs set up in two perfectly aligned rows and sighed in relief when she didn’t see Luke Savage. Kendall De Villers, Luke’s right-hand man, looked very surprised when she introduced herself, and she saw a momentary flash of panic flick over his face before he smiled slowly.
‘Well, this is going to be interesting,’ he told her, with a wicked glint in his fantastic brown-black eyes.
‘Did he honestly think I wouldn’t hear about this or doesn’t he care?’ Jess bluntly asked.
‘Uh...’
Jess waved her question away. ‘Anywhere I can hide where he won’t see me? At least until he’s finished the briefing?’
Kendall lifted his eyebrows. ‘In that outfit? Not a chance in hell.’
Jess didn’t bother to look down. She was wearing a black, body-hugging wraparound dress, black suede heels that made her calves look fabulous and a long string of fake pearls. With her bright blonde hair and bold lipstick, she was as inconspicuous as a house on fire.
‘Where is he?’ Jess asked, looking around the room.
‘Probably doing something farmy...’ Kendall pushed back the sleeve on his immaculately tailored suit and glanced at his watch. ‘Take a seat. We should be starting soon.’
‘Rescue me if it looks like he’s about to kill me?’ she asked, only half joking.
Kendall grinned. ‘I’m not that brave. Sorry, sister, but you’re on your own.’
Jess took her seat next to the wall of the cellar, behind the broad shoulders of the creative director of Cooper & Co, and hoped Luke wouldn’t recognise her.
She leaned her shoulder into Ally’s and spoke in a low voice. ‘Have I lost my marbles?’
‘It’s a question that keeps me awake at night,’ Ally responded. ‘Why?’
‘We’re across the country, in a briefing session we haven’t been invited to, to listen to a briefing by a man who, I suspect, doesn’t forgive and doesn’t forget.’
What was she thinking?
‘Mmm, if one of your staff did this you’d drop-kick them off a cliff.’
She loved Ally, but frequently wished she could be a little less honest, not quite so forthright.
‘Why are we here, then?’
‘Because this is still my campaign!’ Jess hissed. It had been her campaign eight years ago and nobody else was going to get their grubby little hands on it.
She just had one little problem: convincing Luke to see it her way.
And there he was, striding in from a side door to the podium, tucking his cap into the back pocket of his jeans. Such an attractive man, she thought, in a hunter-green long-sleeved T-shirt that skimmed his broad shoulders and wide chest and fell untucked over the waist of over-laundered faded jeans. His dark brown hair brushed his collar and fell in shaggy waves over his ears; he desperately needed a haircut, and he could do with a shave... There was designer stubble and there was three-day-old beard.
And then there was that spectacular butt, hugged by the thin fabric of his jeans as he turned his back on his audience to talk to Kendall. Jess caught Kendall’s wince at his lack of formal attire and thought that only Luke would walk into a room full of Italian suits and designer ties in his farm clothes and not give a damn. Jess leaned forward. Was that a greasy palm print on the pocket of his jeans? Then Luke crouched to tie the lace in his boot and his shirt rode up his back. She could see the line between his tanned back and his white hips above the soft leather belt. Jess swallowed the saliva that pooled in her mouth and wondered how warm that strip of skin would feel, how it would taste...
Ally let out a low whistle. ‘Oh, my giddy aunt.’
‘Gorgeous, isn’t he?’ Jess asked. This would be so much easier if he’d picked up a beer gut, lost his hair...
‘Not him! Well, he is—but the redhead! I wouldn’t mind it if he parked his shoes under my bed!’ Ally muttered back, waving her hand in front of her face. ‘Yum!’
He did have attractive friends, Jess admitted, but for her they were missing that X factor. The one that screamed power and control and sheer masculine presence. Some would say it was testosterone, some supreme self-confidence, but it was more than that. Whatever the mystery ingredient that made Luke more of a man, he’d been given an overdose of it at birth...
It was a good thing she was sitting down because seeing him, so tall and strong, cut her legs out from under her. He was all chemistry and potency and lust and pheromones and... Why was he still the only man she’d ever met who had the ability to vacuum every thought from her brain? Who was able to send her blood to pool in her womb, flush her face and body with pleasure, with nothing more than a look from those fabulous eyes?
Good grief, she thought as their eyes connected and held, if he kept looking at her like that—with barely concealed heat and open hostility—she would dissolve into a puddle on the floor.
Hot, hot, hot.
‘He’s clocked you,’ Ally told her, very unnecessarily.
‘Yeah, I noticed.’
‘You’re in trouble,’ Ally sang, sotto voce. ‘He looks like he wants to gobble you up in one big bite.’
Jess kicked her ankle to get her to shut up.
‘If I’m really, really lucky,’ Jess countered as those green eyes swept over her again, ‘he’ll just ignore me.’
She heard Ally’s sarcastic snort. ‘And maybe pigs will grow glittery fairy wings and fly.’
* * *
‘You could, at the very least, have changed into a clean pair of pants!’ Kendall muttered, looking exceptionally irritated.
‘I intended to but I ran out of time,’ Luke countered, jamming his hands into his pockets. On good days he never had time to spare, and even in July, the heart of winter in the Cape, there was work to be done. He and Owen were overseeing the pruning of the vines, and in the winery the wines needed to be analysed for pH, acidity, alcohol content and a handful of other tests that needed to be done.
‘If you’d let me hand this marketing stuff over to you then you wouldn’t have to nag me about my clothes. And you can nag for Africa, Ken.’
‘Get stuffed,’ Kendall retorted. ‘And they want to see the Savage of St Sylve.’
‘This isn’t an estate in England! The Savage of St Sylve, my ass!’ Luke grumbled.
‘It’s as close as it gets. Now, will you please get on with it?’
Kendall nodded to the podium and Luke sighed. The Savage of St Sylve? Today he would happily be anyone else, he thought as he turned to face his audience. His gaze skimmed over the self-satisfied suits to a slim, streaky-haired blonde sitting behind a wide-shouldered man in a grey suit.
Déjà vu... He’d felt this a couple of times over the years—the tilt of a head, a sway of hips and his heart would stumble. When he took a second look he was always disappointed that it wasn’t her.
Out of the corner of his eye Luke caught the movement of a slim hand sliding into bright hair, and the moisture in his mouth suddenly disappeared. He remembered those slim fingers, and his heart bashed against his ribcage as his eyes flew back to her hair, that wide mouth, the long, slim body under a deceptively simple but figure-revealing black dress. God, she looked good. Slimmer, sophisticated, with a tousled shoulder-length hairstyle that was hugely sexy. It accentuated her high cheekbones, her round dark eyes, that amazing mouth.
Luke hoped his poker face was in place... She couldn’t—mustn’t—suspect that she’d sent his pulse rocketing, his mind into overdrive and his libido into orbit. Luke gripped the podium as he waited for his knees to lock. He couldn’t stop his eyes from tracking back to hers, and when they connected, volcanoes erupted. Jess’s eyes, if you looked carefully enough, were the windows to her soul. Beneath the heat of their glances he knew that she was rattled.
Good. It went some way to making up for the uncomfortable and unwelcome fact that he still wanted her...which was such a foolish description for what he wanted to do to her, with her.
Luke blew out a heavy sigh. He knew why she was here. He wasn’t a fool. Word was out that he was looking for a marketing strategy and she’d heard...and, being Jess, she was probably annoyed that he hadn’t asked her.
Jess, again being Jess, didn’t make appointments or pick up the phone to discuss it like a normal person. No, she rocked up here looking hot and sexy and very, very determined.
He wasn’t sure whether to admire her cheek or be annoyed at her pushiness.
Luke cleared his throat and thought that he’d better get on with the business at hand.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, this is probably going to be the shortest briefing in the history of the world. I want something new—something fresh that sells an enormous amount of wine. I want an overall marketing strategy, and then I want it broken down into website, social media, print and TV campaigns. All integrated. That’s it. After your tour of the St Sylve cellars, Kendall de Villiers will take you through the market research report, and apparently there’s a finger lunch and wine-tasting after that.’
Short and sweet. What else was there to say? He could have waffled on, but he was way more interested in having a very serious discussion with a certain brown-eyed blonde.
* * *
Jess slipped out of the tasting room after arranging for Ally to continue with the tour and get a lift back to the airport with Joel. She needed to slip away before she ran into Luke and was told that he wanted nothing to do with her. As she walked out she slipped on her knee-length black coat and pulled a thin silk scarf from its pocket. There was an icy wind blowing off the towering greeny-purple mountains that surrounded the estate. Jess walked down a path that snaked through the now denuded rose gardens, past the manor house and towards the long driveway where she’d parked her rental car.
Jess found a path between the manor house and the guest house. It led onto the driveway and Jess immediately saw Luke, sitting on the top length of the pole fence that separated a winter-brown paddock from the driveway. Behind the paddock the vineyard started, and she could see his workers pruning the vines.
Jess stopped in the shadows of the house and just watched him.
He still fascinated her, Jess admitted. Oh, he was smoking hot, and he set her nerve-endings alight, but there was something beneath that attraction—something about him that engaged her internally as well. She knew he was smart, and she suspected that he could be ruthless, but it went deeper than simple pheromones and lust. Deep enough to have her mentally cocking her head.
One hundred percent alpha male and more than a match for her. The unwelcome thought popped into her head and settled. Jess stumbled, stopped and took a deep breath, and reminded herself that she was an alpha female and very able to deal with Luke Savage. She was an independent, successful, strong woman...
She was such a liar. Right now she felt as if she had all the inner strength of a marshmallow. She shouldn’t be here at St Sylve, shouldn’t be taking this project on. She really didn’t need his business...
She especially didn’t need the way he made her feel. Tingly, excited, a little unsure, a lot less confident.
Jess placed her hands on her waist and scowled at the ground. Get a grip, Sherwood. You survived a childhood as the youngest girl with four older brothers, you run a successful business, you are independent, ambitious and in charge of this situation.
You will not let him get under your skin...
Jess took a deep breath and stepped out of the shadows onto the driveway. Luke’s head shot up. He jumped off the fence and pushed the sleeves of his T-shirt up his forearms as he scowled at her.
‘Now, why aren’t I surprised to see you here?’ Luke asked in a very even tone.
Jess wasn’t fooled. His green eyes were spitting spiders.
‘Good to know you haven’t lost any of your cheek.’
Sarcasm. He was still good at it.
Jess’s rental car was parked closest to the fence and she dropped her laptop bag on the front seat, slammed the door shut and placed her bottom on the bonnet. She pushed her sunglasses into her hair and looked around.
As much as she wanted to, she would not get drawn into an argument right off the bat. Mostly because she wasn’t sure she’d win it.
‘I’d forgotten how beautiful this place is,’ she commented idly, ignoring his opening volley. ‘The air is so sweet, so pure. Cold, but sweet.’
Luke folded his arms as he loomed over her. ‘What are you doing here, Jessica?’
Jess ignored his intimidation tactics and sent him a smile. ‘I’m going to give you a marketing campaign that is going to blow your socks off, Luke.’
‘Why? So you can say “I told you so”? To rub my face in the fact that I’ve failed? To push home the point that you, despite being so ridiculously young, were right?’
‘No!’ Jess put her hands on her hips and scowled at him. ‘Why didn’t you call me? Dammit, Luke. I know St Sylve. I know—’
Luke rubbed the back of his neck. He felt embarrassed and stupid and wished that she’d just leave him alone to try to fix the mess he’d made. Unfortunately his business brain also kept whispering that he’d be an idiot if he just sent her on her way without listening to her proposal.
There was a reason why she was reputed to be one of the best in the business...but why did she have to look even sexier than before?
The knowledge that he was still so attracted to her caused his temper to spike. ‘You know nothing! You spent three months here eight years ago and you didn’t know much then.’
‘I want to help you...’
Luke shook his head. ‘No, you don’t. You want to make some money off me, do a deal, get the most sought-after contract around. You want to be proved right. You want to say “I told you so”. You want to show me how clever you are.’
Jess shook her head. ‘No, I— Come on, Luke, give me a break! I’m not the same cocky, over-zealous child I was eight years ago. I’m good at my job, and campaigns like yours are what I do best.’
Luke watched the heat of temper appear on her cheekbones, noticed the patches of red forming on her chest and neck. ‘I don’t need to watch you gloat. I have representatives of at least five other companies touring St Sylve right now, so they can—’ Luke bent his fingers to emphasise the phrase ‘—“help” me.’
‘I know that, but none of them are me. I’ve lived here, I’ve worked here, and I’ve always felt a connection to St Sylve. I can use that to create something special for you.’
She sounded sincere, Luke thought, but what did he know? He had vast experience of women—of people—turning sincerity on and off like a tap. Besides, he was tired and stressed and felt as if he’d been hit over the head by a two-by-four. ‘Just go away, Jess.’
She lifted her chin and held his stare. ‘No. Sorry, but, no. I will get the market research report and I will draw up a campaign for you. I don’t care if you think I’m pushy or bossy or a pain in the butt—that is what is going to happen.’
Luke felt his temper bubble. ‘Nothing has changed with you, has it? You’re still over-confident and cocky—’
Jess hopped off the car, teetered on her heels and slapped her hand against his chest. Luke felt as if she’d branded him. He could see the pulse jumping at the base of her neck and noticed that her eyes had turned darker with...could that be embarrassment? Her obvious discomfort had his temper retreating.
‘Can you be quiet for just a minute while I get this out?’ Jess asked, her voice vibrating.
She seemed unaware that her hand was still on his chest, and although he lifted his hand to remove it, he didn’t manage to complete the action. He rather liked her touching him...
Jess took a deep breath and raked tumbling hair back from her face with her other hand. ‘I suck at apologising, so this might not come out right. But I’m really, really sorry for being so rude and revolting. I had no right to say the things I said to you, and you were right to fire me...in fact you did me a huge favour. I was intolerably cheeky and I’d really appreciate it if you accepted my apology.’
Huh? What? Luke frowned at her. That wasn’t what he’d expected her to say...
‘Are you apologising?’ He just had to make sure. He’d had a tough couple of weeks. Maybe the stress was getting to him and he’d started imagining things.
Or maybe he just wanted to hear the words again.
Jess closed her eyes. ‘Please don’t make me say it again,’ she begged. ‘Once is embarrassing enough.’
Luke blew out his breath. ‘What am I supposed to say to that?’ he grumbled.
Jess made a sound that was a cross between a snort and a laugh.
‘That you forgive me?’ she suggested. ‘That you’ll let me design you a campaign that will sell an enormous amount of wine? That was an interesting briefing session, by the way. Short and—’
‘Sweet?’
Jess’s smile flashed. ‘Just short. So? Can I?’
Luke, momentarily distracted by the tiny dimple that flashed in her cheek when she smiled, gathered his thoughts and told himself to be an adult. He couldn’t just give her the campaign because she had a smile that made his belly clench, a body that begged to be touched and eyes he could drown in. Then again, it was his vineyard...
Get a grip, Savage.
‘You can put in a tender for the job, along with everyone else.’ Luke lifted up his hand when he saw Jess’s face brighten. His next words were as much a warning to himself as they were to her. ‘I’m not promising you a thing, Sherwood.’
Jess slowly nodded. ‘Understood. Thank you. You won’t regret this.’
Luke knew that on some level, at some time, he would.
Jess sent him a smile and a look that made his insides squirm with lust and, admittedly, fear.
‘So, since I’m no longer trying to avoid you, and since I’m assuming that I’m not about to be tossed off the premises, I think I’ll join the tour. Reacquaint myself with St Sylve.’
Luke, not keen to be inundated with questions from the rest of the suits but also not willing—why?—to leave Jess just yet, said, ‘I’ll walk you back to the cellar.’
‘You don’t have to,’ Jess replied quickly. ‘Besides, I was going to take the long route back—through the gardens and past the stables.’
Luke frowned. ‘What on earth for?’
Jess lifted her shoulder. ‘I have an idea for the campaign but I need to get a sense of St Sylve as it is now, not how I remember it.’
Luke lifted his eyebrows and looked at her sexy dress and ridiculous heels. ‘You want to walk in those shoes? That dress?’
Jess held out a foot and rotated it. ‘What’s wrong with my shoes? They’re gorgeous.’
‘But totally impractical for walking in—especially on farm roads. Take the path back, Jess.’
He could see her spine stiffening and her chin lifting. ‘Thanks, but I’ll take the circuitous route.’
Luke suppressed his smile at her stubbornness. Within twenty-five metres those spiky heels would be stuck in mud and her stockings would be flecked with dirt.
He gave Jess another up-and-down look and watched for her response. Her expression remained stoic while her eyes heated. He wondered what it would take to get her to lose the mask of sophistication she’d acquired.
He spoke casually. ‘Do you ever think about what we did the last time we met?’
He didn’t need to spell it out...she was a smart girl. Luke watched carefully and saw her composure slip for a fraction of a second, before her lips firmed and her eyes narrowed.
‘No. Do you?’
‘No,’ Luke replied.
My, my, my, Luke thought as she walked away. Look what good liars we’ve become.
* * *
Jess, sitting on a hard seat at the airport, waiting for her flight to be called, looked at her shoes and grimaced. Once black, they were now streaked with reddish-brown mud and, she was certain, were beyond repair. Her stockings were splattered with runny sludge and dirty water. Her feet were aching from negotiating the uneven roads and paths at St Sylve in two-inch spikes and her toes had long since said goodbye to any feeling.
Damn Luke Savage for being right.
Jess felt her mobile vibrate in her hand and squinted down at the screen, where a message was displayed from the Sherwood family group.
John: Just to let you bunch of losers know that I ran 5K today in 24:30. Eat my dust, girls.
Jess had barely finished reading the message when a reply was posted.
Patrick: For an old guy, that’s pretty good. But I run sub 24 routinely.
And they were off...
Chris: Liar! Your last race time was 30 mins plus.
Patrick: I had a stomach bug.
Nick: Prove it, squirt. You run like a girl. Even the Shrimp can take you down!
Patrick: I was sick! And Jess couldn’t catch me with wings strapped to her back...
Jess, being the Shrimp and a girl, took offence at that. She was often faster than Patrick over five kilometres.
Jess: Hey, brainless...name the time and place and be prepared to watch my butt the whole way!
John: What are the stakes?
Jess wrinkled her nose. The last bet she’d lost to her brothers had ended up in her doing Chris’s tax return. Maybe she hadn’t thought this through.
Nick: A weekend cleaning out the monkey enclosure at the rehab centre for the loser.
Chris: Good one!
Eeew, thought Jess.
John: Hand-washing our rugby kit after practice.
Double eeew.
Liza AKA Mom: Now, now, children...play nice. Mommy’s listening. And the loser will replace all the washers on my leaky taps. And they will not pay anyone to do this!
Jess twisted her lips. Unfortunately for her she knew how to wield a monkey wrench and thus would not be excused on account of gender. This was just another instance when she deeply regretted being a tomboy for most of her life.
And, really, when was she going to grow out of this absurd compulsion to prove that she was as big and as strong and as capable as her four older brothers? As a child she’d thought it deeply unfair that she’d been born a girl, and had decided early on that anything they could do she wanted to do better. So she’d studied hard and played harder in an effort to keep up with her siblings...and still always felt that she was on the outside of their ‘brother circle’ looking in. They were good-looking, charming, sporty and successful—a very annoying bunch of over-achievers... She thought that Luke would fit in very well with them.
The bet was madness, Jess thought, frowning at her feet and wondering how to get out of it. And as for her gorgeous shoes...they were history.
THREE
Jess’s thin heels made tiny square marks in the thick carpet of the passage outside the smallest conference room at the hotel where Luke had chosen to view the various campaign presentations. She was scheduled to present last, and was getting more and more nervous. Realising that her hands were slick with perspiration, she hustled off to the closest bathroom to wash her hands and check her face. Again.
She was being ludicrous, she decided, drying her hands for the third time in twenty minutes. Since her contretemps with Luke eight years ago she’d always been nervous before presentations, but no one besides Ally ever knew it. She appeared to be ice-cool and confident, unflappable, but underneath her façade her heart misfired and her brain spluttered.
Jess slicked on another layer of lipstick and smoothed down her scarlet mid-thigh-length jacket. The bottom of her short black pencil skirt just peeked out under the hem, and she wore a black silk polo-neck jersey underneath. With sheer black stockings and knee-high boots, the outfit was dramatic and eye-catching, and not what she’d usually wear to pitch for a job.
But if this was the last time she’d see Luke Savage then she’d damn well make sure that she made a lasting impression.
Ally stuck her head around the door to the Ladies’. ‘Jess, it’s time.’
Jess walked out of the Ladies’ and was grateful for Ally’s steadying hand on her back, unaware that she was biting the inside of her lip. ‘Let’s knock their socks off.’
‘Okay...but maybe you should take a deep breath first...’
‘Why?’ Jess asked, picking up her laptop and boards.
‘Your knees are knocking together.’ Ally reached into her bag and pulled out a small bottle of Rescue Remedy. ‘Open up.’
‘Ally!’ Jess muttered, but she obediently stuck out her tongue as Ally shook the foul-tasting drops into her mouth.
The door behind them opened and Jess’s eyes slid over. She winced as Luke stepped out of the conference room.
‘Hi—’ He stopped suddenly and Jess yanked her tongue in. Could she feel any more stupid?
‘What on earth are you doing?’ Luke demanded, his hands in the pockets of his smart black pants. Jess noticed his button-down cream shirt with its discreet, expensive logo and sighed at how good he looked.
Mr Savage cleaned up very, very well indeed.
‘Nothing,’ Jess muttered.
‘Rescue Remedy,’ Ally said at the same time. ‘Jess tends to get a bit nervous before presentations.’
‘Alison!’
Luke smiled at Jess and her stomach flipped over. ‘I would never have guessed. Jess doesn’t seem to be the gets-nervous type.’ Luke held out his hand to Alison. ‘Luke Savage.’
‘Ally Davies.’ Ally shook his hand.
‘How nervous?’ Luke asked, and Jess willed Ally not to be her normal open, brutally honest self.
‘Very. Her knees are knocking together and her hands are shaking.’
‘Will you stop?’ Jess demanded. ‘Jeez, Alison! He’s a client.’
‘Relax, Jess, there’s no need to torture such pretty knees.’ Luke sent her another of his slow, sexy smiles that were guaranteed to melt the panties off any female between eighteen and eighty. It was the smile she intended to use to launch his campaign. She was under no illusions. It was going to be tough to sell it to him...
‘And I like the skirt you’re almost wearing, Sherwood,’ Luke added.
‘Oh, shut up!’ Jess told him before sailing into the room, her nose up in the air.
Great start, Jess, telling your prospective client to put a cork in it. Not.
* * *
Jess ended her presentation and caught herself biting the inside of her lip in the resultant heavily pregnant silence. She felt her heart thumping in her chest and wondered if the St Sylve contingency could hear it.
Thump, thump, kadoosh. Thump, thump... Oh, the kadoosh happened every time she looked at Luke; it was, Jess realised, her heart bouncing off the floor.
Well, okay, then. Good to know. Better if she knew how to make it stop.
Luke looked utterly inscrutable and non-committal—especially for somebody who, as she’d suggested, should be the new face of St Sylve wines. Did they love it? Hate it? Think that she’d not only crossed the line but redrawn it as well? Jess just wished they’d say something—anything!
About a million years later—okay, ten seconds, but it felt that long—Luke sat forward and rested his arms on the table. His eyes sliced through her.
‘Let me get this straight... You want me to be the face of St Sylve?’
Jess nodded. ‘Not just the face of St Sylve. I want the consumer to associate you and St Sylve with fun. Hip and cool, yet sophisticated. The plan isn’t to sell your wine. It’s to sell your life.’
Now Luke looked thoroughly puzzled. ‘I don’t have a life, Jessica! I work and that’s about it!’
‘The consumer doesn’t know that, Luke. He sees you as this young, single, good-looking—’ smoking hot, but she couldn’t say that ‘—rich guy who has the world at his feet. He does hip and cool things...like parasailing, dancing, mountain-climbing. He plays touch rugby with his mates, has friends around for dinner, attends balls. And it’s all done with, or followed by, a glass of wine. St Sylve wine.’
‘I love it,’ Kendall said. ‘I think it’s brilliant.’
Jess flashed him a grateful smile.
‘I like the idea, but I don’t like the idea of me doing it. Why can’t you get a model to...model?’ Luke demanded.
‘It would have a bigger impact if the owner of the winery appeared in the adverts and, frankly—’ Jess took a deep breath ‘—why would you want to spend a shedload of cash on a model when you are attractive enough to do it yourself?’
And I managed to say that without blushing or drooling, Jess thought.
‘I’m really liking this,’ Kendall stated.
‘Actually, so am I,’ Owen agreed, but Jess noticed that he wasn’t looking at her but at Ally. Okay, so that was interesting. Jess swivelled her head. Ally was so looking back, the flirt!
Luke stood up abruptly. ‘Thanks, everybody. It’s been a long day. Let’s sleep on it and meet on Monday to make a decision. Jess, if you’d wait, I’d like a moment of your time?’
Now he wants a moment, Jess thought. He’s had three weeks. She looked at Luke, who was writing on her presentation booklet. Then again, it was probably about work.
She was acting like a lonely, lovelorn teenager. She was, it was embarrassing to admit, an utter drip.
* * *
Luke waited until the last person had left the room and the door had snicked closed behind them before walking around the table to the top of the room, where Jess was still standing by the projector screen, a laser pointer in her hand. He sat on the edge of the boardroom table and stretched out his legs. Jess seemed to get better-looking each time he saw her, he thought idly. She’d done something to her hair—there were now pale blonde streaks in the honey colour. It was also brutally straight today. He preferred it loose and curly...
Luke scratched his forehead, thinking that he was too far gone if he was wasting time noticing the details of a woman’s hair. Which was chilling on a dozen different levels.
He was impressed with her presentation, her professionalism; no one would have guessed that this slick, cool businesswoman suffered from performance anxiety. He wouldn’t have guessed it if he hadn’t seen her sticking her tongue out for those drops. The entire episode made her seem not quite so aloof, a little warmer, a lot more human. Infinitely attractive.
‘Um...what do you really think about my idea?’ Jess asked, and he could hear a quiver underneath her professional tone of voice.
‘I like it—apart from me being in the ads.’
‘I should also tell you that I think you should start getting out, promoting the St Sylve name and its wine. I would strongly suggest that you go out more...social events, parties, balls...and that you host wine-tasting evenings and start networking.’
‘Why don’t you just take my internal organs? It would be easier.’ Luke rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Do you have an extra twenty-four hours in the day for me?’
‘It’s important, Luke.’
‘I don’t have the time, Jess. I’m working at St Sylve. I get home from the land and then I spend hours on business plans, financing... I’m running my other businesses at night. I don’t have the time for advertising shoots, let alone for a social life.’
‘Then I think you should be prepared to keep ploughing your own money into St Sylve or to lose it,’ Jess told him bluntly. ‘You need the wines to sell to get St Sylve sustainable, and to do that you need sales—for sales you need advertising.’
‘Then why must I do the social stuff?’
‘Because you need to be seen to be living the campaign or else the consumers won’t believe in it.’ Jess perched on the edge of the conference table and crossed her legs. ‘Step out of your comfort zone, Luke.’
Comfort zone? He hadn’t felt remotely comfortable since he’d set eyes on her again weeks ago.
Luke eyed her long legs in those sexy boots and felt his groin twitch. Dammit! He didn’t like not being able to control his physical reaction to this woman, the fact that he thought about her far too often. And he especially didn’t like the fact that she could talk so coolly about business when he was imagining her naked except for those boots, at the mercy of his touch...
‘If I agree to hire you, and by doing so agree to any and all of your proposals,’ he said in a voice that most of his staff and friends would recognise as non-negotiable, ‘then I have a couple of conditions of my own.’
‘Okay—what?’
‘You work on the campaign. No passing it off to your flunkies.’
‘Understood. I had no intention of doing that anyway.’
‘And I want St Sylve to have your undivided attention. You move to St Sylve for however long it takes to get this wrapped up. Get out of your comfort zone.’
He saw the look of shock that flicked across her face. ‘That’s not practical, Luke. I have a business to run.’
‘Skype, e-mail and phone. We live in the twenty-first century, Jess. Besides, Ally looks competent enough to take the reins.’
‘She is, but—’
‘And you also organise the networking. I don’t have the time or the inclination and I have even less enthusiasm. And you accompany me to all these functions. If I have to do it, then so do you,’ Luke told her.
‘So, are you saying I’ve got the job?’
‘Yep.’
Of course she had the job—was she mad? Hers was above and beyond the most exciting presentation of them all, and while the others wouldn’t need his time, presence or input, they wouldn’t have the effect Jess’s would.
‘Uh...good,’ Jess said in a strangled voice. ‘But I don’t know if I’m going to manage living in Franschoek. I have a life, apart from my business, in Sandton.’
Luke shook his head. No, she didn’t. She was as much a workaholic as him. ‘Stop hedging. And you’re not staying in Franschoek—you’re staying at St Sylve.’
Jess thrust out her stubborn chin. ‘I won’t feel comfortable staying with you, in your house.’
‘Why not?’
Jess rolled her eyes. ‘Are you really going to be all coy and not acknowledge the...’
Luke lifted his eyebrows when she stuttered to a stop. ‘Lust? Heat? Passion?’ he suggested.
‘Heat...stick to heat,’ Jess suggested, her eyes everywhere but meeting his.
Luke grinned internally; it amazed him that she could be so businesslike about—well, business, but get so flustered when talking about their mutual attraction.
‘Now who’s being coy?’ Luke muttered. ‘Okay, you can stay in any one of the six bedrooms at the manor house.’
Luke stepped closer—so close he could almost feel her breasts against his chest, smell the citrus in her hair. Those amazingly long lashes fluttered and lifted and he felt the zing of attraction arc between them. In that age-old subconscious display of attraction her mouth opened, and he nearly lost control when he saw the tip of her pink tongue flicker at the corner of her mouth. Stuff the marketing strategy and St Sylve. Stuff the world...Jess was here and he wanted her.
Her body, not her mind...
Luke jerked his head up and quietly cursed. And what was he doing? Acting on what was happening in his pants. Catch a clue, Savage. He wasn’t fifteen any more, or even twenty, but he was still listening to his libido. He’d realised a while back that it was a very bad judge of character, time and situation, and it had the ability to lead him into deep trouble.
Luke stepped away from Jess, but couldn’t resist tucking a long, straight strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Don’t disappoint me, Jess.’
‘I don’t intend to,’ she replied in her husky, take-me-to-bed voice.
Jess finally looked him in the eye and he couldn’t help himself; his thumb drifted across her bottom lip. ‘You have the most kissable mouth I’ve ever seen.’
He saw sense and sensibility flow back into Jess’s eyes—her mental retreat. A cool, polite mask dropped into place.
‘Not a good idea, Luke. Any physical intimacy could blow up in our faces.’
‘We should be smart enough to separate the two.’
Her shoulders came up and her spine stiffened at his challenge. ‘Theoretically I’m smart enough—anybody is smart enough—to solve string theory, but that doesn’t mean I can. Or will.’
‘We have unfinished business, Jessica. You know it and I know it; we both want to finish what we started eight years ago.’ Luke moved the backs of his fingers down her cheek.
Jess’s eyes remained passionate even as she nudged his hand away. ‘Luke, let me make it very clear that I don’t do casual sex—especially not with colleagues, competitors or clients.’
He loved the snap he heard in her voice, the passion that slumbered in her eyes. The contradiction of the two had his heart in his throat and his groin twitching. This was going to be interesting, he thought, amused and still very turned on. She might be flustered but she wasn’t intimidated, and she didn’t back down.
He wondered who’d taught her that.
* * *
The day before Jess was due to arrive at St Sylve, Luke sat on the end of the antique double bed in the largest guest suite in the manor house and looked around the room. Angel, his part-time housekeeper, had worked her magic in the room he’d allocated Jess. The yellow wood headboard had been oiled, there was white linen on the bed and fresh flowers on the nightstand. Luke glanced through the large bay window opposite the bed which enabled the guest to wake to a stunning view of the mountains. Luke had never understood why this room, with its large en-suite bathroom, had never been used as the master bedroom instead of the smaller, pokier bedroom at the front of the house, overlooking the driveway.
Easier to see who was coming up the road, Luke decided. Friend, foe, tax collector... In his father’s case, lover. There had been many, Luke knew. He remembered lots of women wafting around the house when he was a child... Some had paid far too much attention to him; others had paid him absolutely no attention at all.
They’d all left eventually. By the age of seven he’d learned to protect himself against getting emotionally attached to any of his father’s girlfriends. That way he hadn’t been affected when they’d dropped out of his life. Apart from the blip that had been his marriage, it was his standard operating procedure when it came to women.
Being a reasonably astute guy, he hadn’t needed therapy to work out that he’d learnt to protect himself against emotional entanglements, and he’d honed his ability to keep his distance from people at a young age. Between his mother’s death, his father’s dictator tendencies and his girlfriends wafting in and then storming out, it had become easier not to care whether people left or not.
His ex-wife and his marriage had been the exception to that rule. While he now called her a crazoid, with the ability to incinerate money, he had to accept that his own issues had also contributed to the train wreck. He hadn’t loved her, but he’d been monstrously in love with the idea of her: a wife, a family, normality. When he’d got it he hadn’t known what to do with it...
Saying goodbye to his lifelong dream of being part of something bigger than himself had stung like a shark bite, and because Fate had thought that wasn’t punishment enough, his father had died and he’d been yanked back to St Sylve.
He was still trying to come to terms with his legacy, and frequently wasn’t sure how he felt about the estate. Some days he loved it. Then resentment got the better of him, and on other days, when the memories of his father bubbled close to the surface, he actively hated the place.
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