Page 17 of Just a Stranger

“I’m impressed by her knowledge. Blows mine out of the water. I think her plan to grow the Blue Star Wine brand into something isn’t just her blindly stumbling down a new career path. Have you read the business plan she wrote?” Wilson’s very preceptive gaze searched my face. He liked trying to read my expression. In general, he failed, as did most everyone. But today he might have a chance; I wasn’t myself.

“Yes, sir. It’s good.” The plan had landed in my email with a thunk that morning at five am. And of course, I read it. That was my job, my MBA wasn’t just something to hang on the wall. If Blue Star could hit even half the profitability numbers Rae had outlined, it would blow our past sales figures out of the water.

“They might be wasting her in marketing. She’s got the talent for a lot more.”

I nodded.

“See any problems?” Wilson asked, casting me in the role of devil’s advocate. As a born cynic, the part came naturally to me.

“We’ve got to finish the build-out at the dancehall, add a parking lot, and if she can deliver the number of customers and sales she’s projecting…” I looked around at what to my eyes had been a large wine production facility and grimaced; I hated growth for growth’s sake. “We’re going to need more wine once back stock sells through.”

“More wine.” Wilson laughed like an evil genius.

I longed to escape. Go find a lame horse to doctor or a fence that needed mending. Not that either was on my schedule fortoday. This afternoon, I had a meeting at the county property appraiser’s office to fight the valuation of the ranch. Tax bills in Texas were big, and getting them reviewed and lowered was one of the least exciting of my annual tasks. But even that sounded better than being party to pimping the serene beauty of Blue Star to sell wine.

“Más Vino.” Cami lifted her glass and clinked it with Wilson’s. The sound drew the attention of Gabriel and Rae.

I devoured the sight of Rae as she turned in my direction. Two days without her had left me starving.

Our eyes met, and it was like the first time we touched. A primal need stirred in me to have her, possess her. And knowing exactly how she tasted, smelled, and sounded when she came, it was near impossible to ignore my desire. The only thing keeping me on this side of the wine barrel table was self-preservation.

My good sense was no match for the pull of this woman. Even her plans for the ranch faded to a minor complaint when I was near her. One night had obviously not been enough. I craved her.

“So what do you think of our winemaker?” Wilson asked his sister.

His words severed the link between Rae and me. I yanked my thoughts from the bedroom and back to the business at hand.

“Gab—Gabriel is wonderful.” She blinked and refocused on Wilson with visible effort. Seeing her as affected as I was thrilled me. The flush on her cheeks and the small catch in her voice were all about the connection we shared. It hummed along like a living thing tying us together—tying us in knots.

“Isn’t he?” Cami also batted her lashes at the Frenchman. It was the accent. Every woman in Elmer melted for Gabriel. Before today I never cared.

Yep, I should have hired the woman from Australia. Her number might be saved in my email—I’d search tonight.

“Ladies, please. This flattery is unnecessary. I’m simply doing my job. The one that is incredible is Rae.” His accent seemed stronger than ever, and his appreciative gaze was way too friendly for a first business meeting.

She waved a hand at him to bat away his compliment. It didn’t slow him down.

“No, no. You have a breadth of knowledge I rarely find outside the industry. It’s impressive. I can’t wait to see the new direction you will take us. Now that you are here, the sky is the limit.”

That last bit was a dig at me. I ignored it.

I wanted us to make good wine and sell it. Period.

Not invite the masses onto the ranch to buy a bottle here and there. Not have commercials on the web or flashy ads in wine magazines. I’d encouraged Gabriel to enter our wines in competitions and gift bottles to chefs and wine critics. We’d been doing fine, selling directly to restaurants and a few smaller wine shops. Covering expenses—mostly. Growing the brand slowly. Organically was the trendy term.

“We have quite a bit of work to do before we can get excited.” Rae looked down at a yellow pad covered in her handwritten notes and tapped it with a pen.

“Non mon Chéri, I can feel it in my bones. This event will be perfection. Launching you, and maybe even me, into the stratosphere of the wine business back in Napa.”

“Event?” I cut off the love fest between Gabriel and Rae before I puked.

“Yes, I’m so happy the dates work. The harvest is coming up. And we are going to host a grape stomp to coincide with it. Stomps are an incredibly popular way to attract visitors to the tasting room and get them excited about the brand.” Rae bounced with excitement, explaining her new PR strategy.

“You’re planning for next year, right?” Even as I asked the question, I knew she wasn’t talking about next year. She’d be gone by then.

“Such a pessimist.” Cami knew me best and nailed it on the head.

All I could think of was the problems we’d face because of the tightly compressed timeline. If someone in this room said:time is money, I’d quit, my legacy at Blue Star be damned.

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