Page 11 of Taken With You
He said, “Trust me, the unicorns weren’t my idea.”
She made an effort to smile.
“Brunichelli’s estate sold the whole place as is,” he said. “I’ll renovate eventually.” Purely for business-entertainment purposes, or as a winery-weekend B&B. He couldn’t live here. He had a company back in New York to run, as his marketing director and CFO kept reminding him.
She said, “Mr. Brunichelli had a daughter. This must have been her childhood room.”
“If purple isn’t your color, I can show you another—”
“This really isn’t necessary, Garrick.”
“Like hell it isn’t.”
With the light flooding hazy through a window that needed cleaning, she was surrounded by a gauzy light.
“I sleep well on cots,” she said. “I was a cellar rat for years. The air is cold, but I wrap up warm. I like to sleep like that.”
He imagined her bundled, curled up against his body, flaxen hair against his lips.
He pushed away the image. “You don’t have to sleep like that. You’re a master vintner now.”
She crossed her arms, digging in. “According to our partnership terms, I get to make all decisions relating to production.”
“This decision isn’t about production.”
“As the primary producer, I’d argue otherwise.”
“It’s about the health of my partner.” He had seen this before. She was working too hard. “You need to sleep to work effectively.”
She lifted a brow, all skepticism. “Won’t you have other…guests?”
“Not until the launch party.” Was she asking about romantic complications, or was he reading into her hesitation? “I’ll be back and forth between here and New York over the next weeks. I’ll be out of your way.”
He didn’t bother to ask if she’d have guests. She’d made the decision to be his partner without taking the time to call anyone. That pleased him in ways that just weren’t right.
“The bathroom is two doors down.” He tilted his head toward the far end of the hall. “I’ll keep the fridge stocked.”
“You’re going to feed me, too?”
“Purely selfish act.” She could use some feeding. He could tell by her reaction when she’d entered the cabin that the meal had surprised her. She’d been working so hard she hadn’t realized that she’d skipped lunch. Dominic used to do that, too. “You can’t eat takeout all the time. You know this is the right decision, partner.”
She raised those long, expressive lashes. A current ran under his skin, but he ignored it. He’d trained his libido a long time ago. He kept subordinates at arm’s length, compartmentalized any attraction to partners or coworkers, even those who gave out signals that they’d be delighted to share his bed.
No complications.
No commitments.
She approached him with the light behind her. The air thinned, and his chest ached as she paused.
“Thank you for this, Garrick. I’ll fetch what I need from my apartment tonight and then unpack my things tomorrow.”
Then she was gone, leaving him staring at the empty spot where she’d just stood, dust motes swirling in the light.
***
Amanda rolled an empty wine barrel to a stop as a sudden vibration rattled against her butt. She pulled her cell phone out of her back pocket and frowned at the unfamiliar number. Normally, she wouldn’t answer, but she was waiting on calls from several potentially new suppliers.
“Hello?”
