Page 7 of Taken With You
“He looks like the owner of a winery.”And an Olympic athlete.Amanda rolled up to a sitting position and then to her feet. “Beyond that, my lips are sealed.”
“C’mon. Just tell me his age. Tell me he’s a Frenchman.”
Amanda grinned. Frenchmen were Maggie’s weakness. “Stop grilling me and help with the glassware.”
Maggie groaned, sending a puff of hair upward that ruffled her frizzy brown bangs as she headed toward the sink. “I hate washing beakers. And there aresomany.”
“We’ll get them done, one by one.” She made a note to add an industrial dishwasher to possible capital improvements.
“Yeah, but honestly.” Maggie picked up a lint-free dishtowel as they reached the counter. “I know you’ve been working hard all week, but you’ll need an army to clean this place up.”
Amanda shoved on the faucet. “You’re my army today.”
“But why is he insisting you crush the harvest this year?” Maggie took the first wet beaker from Amanda’s hand. “What’s the rush to barrel a vintage?”
Good question.
“I mean, he won’t be able to sell this year’s vintage for several years.” Maggie blindly dried the beaker before setting it on the open shelf. “Is he desperate for financing or something?”
“Absolutely not.” When she’d spoken to Garrick on the phone, he’d thrown around numbers that had made her drop to her seat. “I know he has the finances for this, and a hell of a lot more. Everything I researched about him backs that up.”
“So he’s rich.” Maggie’s hazel eyes gleamed. “I suppose it’s too much to ask that he be a hottie, too?”
In her mind rolled the reel of Garrick striding across the yard in all his shirtless glory. A dangerous little tremor shot through her.
“Dry off that long thermometer, would you, Mags? When we’re done here, I need to test the temperature in the other tank.”
“You’re a vault, Amanda.” Maggie made an exaggerated growl of frustration as she slid the thermometer through the cloth. “I may resort to blackmail.”
“Good luck with that. You know how boring my life is.”
“Doesn’t have to be. I could nudge that hot Windsor lab tech to give you a call, now that you’re not his boss.”
“Which lab tech?” She frowned. “Not the one with the filthy lab coat—”
“His name is Eric, and he adores you, my friend. So tell me something about this new owner, else I’ll whisper in Eric’s ear that you’ve been suppressing a volcanic lust for him—”
“There you are.”
Amanda startled at the voice,Garrick’svoice, echoing in the room. She turned to see him striding in, wearing a business suit rather than his climbing clothes. The jacket flew open in the breeze of his pace, his tie was askew, and the buttons of the shirt undone to center chest. Reflexively she grasped the grape-leaf locket at her throat. Why did he seem sexier with clothes on?
“Garrick.” She caught her tongue on the name, but not before Maggie heard it with a little leap. “I thought you weren’t due back until Monday.”
“I cut the trip short.”
“Hello, Mr.…Garrick.” Mags stepped toward him and thrust out her free hand. “I’m Maggie Johnson. You must be the new owner of Cedar Ridge.”
“I just caught the end of your conversation.” Garrick dropped Maggie’s hand and slid his gaze to Amanda. “You were saying something about volcanic lust?”
“Volcanicmust,” Amanda blurted. “It’s the juice, skins, and seeds of grapes grown in volcanic soil. Like in Willamette Valley. Or around Mount Etna in Italy.” Maggie turned a beady eye on her, brows disappearing behind her bangs, and Amanda beamed,Yeah, I made that up.“This is my friend Maggie Johnson. She’s a lab tech at Windsor, here to help me clean and organize.”
Maggie flipped her bush of a ponytail. “Amanda conned me into coming, but now I’m glad I did.”
“I didn’t con her.” Amanda tilted her head at her friend in warning. “Maggie owes me for the weekend I did all her sugar readings while she went to Burning Man, remember?”
“Guilty.” Maggie shrugged, elevated to her toes as she grinned at Garrick’s impressiveness. Amanda couldn’t blame Mags. Garrick wore the suit like it was meant to be torn off.
Yikes. Danger zone.
