Page 40 of The Charmer's Gambit
“Mmm, you wear that look well.” His breath was hot against my ear. I glanced sideways, surprised to see that he’d managed to guide me all the way to the truck without me realizing it.
“What look?” I asked, throat dry.
“The one that says you’re almost ready to join me in bed.”
Almost? My lacy panties disagreed with him. I was more than ready.
He planted an open-mouthed kiss against my neck and opened the door. “Yes, almost,” he confirmed. I must have questioned that out loud. He helped me into the truck, then stepped up to pull the buckle over my lap. His lips were a hairsbreadth from mine as he locked me in his stare. “But, Rachel,” he murmured, his bare chest radiating heat. “It’s going to happen, and soon.”
My thighs clenched. Again with the words in that damn sexy voice! I tried to form a snappy comeback, but my brain refusedto process my request. It just kept repeating,Half-naked Will, over and over again. His smirk said he knew it too.
I still had nothing rational to say when he climbed in beside me.
His masculine scent washed over me as he reached into the back to grab his shirt. I inhaled deeply, luxuriating in it. A hint of soap underlay the woodsy appeal, turning me on more. Crap. Who knew a day in the field could smell so alluring? He pulled the fabric over his head, hiding that delicious abdomen from my view. It didn’t help kick-start my brain. His rippled torso would be forever burned into my memory. I wanted to trace each groove and ridge with my tongue.
Will started the car, and with it the music. Oh no. If he started singing again, I’d never recover. There were only so many seductive traits a woman could take, and he’d thrown enough at me to last a lifetime.
“Thank you for helping today,” he said as we started down the gravel drive through the field. It wasn’t part of the vineyard but appeared to be part of Joe’s property. Focusing on that recognition brought a nonsexual question to mind that I latched on to with the single thread of reason I had left in me.
“So how does this work? You own the vineyard, but Joe maintains it and grows . . .” I squinted at the rows of thick bushes. “I’m not sure what those are.”
“Blackberries,” Will replied. “They’re almost ready for picking, too, if you want to come back.”
I scrunched my nose and immediately regretted it. “I’ll need sunscreen.”
He chuckled. “And your hat.”
“Because that worked out well the first time,” I muttered. Before he could tease me about it again, I shifted back to my safe topic. “Okay, so do you own the blackberries too, then?”
“It’s complicated.” He turned onto the main road before continuing. “Mershano Vineyards started with the property I live on today. I used my last name to apply for the loans I needed while also taking a little out of my family trust for the down payment, then spent three years cultivating the land and hiring a small team. I wanted to master the field work for several reasons, but mainly so I could earn the respect of some of the local winery owners.”
“Like Joe,” I inferred.
“Yes, exactly. It helped me develop a trusting approach rather than a smarmy salesman one. But before all that, I developed a business strategy. I knew my vineyard had promise, had seen it in its full glory as a kid, and wanted to return that potential to the land. It also served as a tribute to my mother since it was her favorite vineyard.” His grin was sad while he spoke, tugging at my heartstrings.
“Anyway, I worked hard to restore the fields and the winery, taking out loans to replace rusty equipment, barrels, and other crappy machinery, and made two types of red wines. Meanwhile, the business-savvy part of me worked through the permits and legalities and started soliciting contracts for sale. It probably won’t surprise you, but Mershano Suites was my first customer. Evan offered me an advance to help with wine production, but my fields only sustained a certain percentage of his needs.”
I could see where this was going. “So you started soliciting partners.”
“Exactly.” He relaxed one forearm on the console while he spoke, his fingers drumming against the shifter. Even after all that work outside, he still had energy keyed up inside of him. Did the man ever rest?
“So,” he continued, “I approached some local vineyards first, specifically the ones I knew were struggling, and offered various forms of partnerships. Some of them agreed to sell land to meoutright, while others, like Joe, offered to sell their product under my brand for a fee.”
“Like a franchise,” I translated.
“Yep. About sixty percent of Mershano Vineyards is composed of franchise properties that sell under my name but are not owned by my corporation. Contractual agreements allow me to stop by and check in as needed to ensure the highest quality product, which is what my team of quality analysts handle. But I still like to help some of the locals when they need it.”
“That explains all the types of wine,” I murmured, thinking about the long list from his company website.
“Exactly. The key factors are variety and quality. I guarantee both, but there is a limit on each style, which also allows me to control price. It’s a simple game of economics.”
“Simple,” I repeated. “Right.”
His dimple peeked at me. “Well, again, it was all part of my business plan. And much to the bank’s chagrin, I managed to pay back my loans in my first seven years, and now I put most of my profit into the family trust. And I was able to pay back Evan’s ridiculous advance.” The way he said it indicated there was a story there, but he didn’t elaborate. I would have dug into it, but something else he mentioned intrigued me more.
“You didn’t use family money to buy your first vineyard?” I had assumed more than once that he did. It wasn’t like the Mershano family empire was short on cash. His cousin was estimated to be worth several billion, hence his well-earned nickname as “The Prince of New Orleans.”
“I used some of it for a down payment, but mostly I just capitalized on my name. The banks knew I was good for the money, especially with the family trust sitting behind me, but I wanted to create my own empire. I had already used enough of my parents’ money for college and business school, and I wantedMershano Vineyards to be a product of my own work. Which it is to an extent, but my familial ties also helped. Most banks would never give a loan in that sum to an average person, but I accomplished what I could, given the situation.”
