Blame It on the Champagne. Nina Harrington

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СКАЧАТЬ sighed out loud and raised both hands in the air. ‘I can understand that such a thing is hard to believe but here it is.’ He paused for dramatic effect and stepped just a little closer than she was comfortable with. ‘I’m not known for my patience. There were a couple of times during the presentation that I picked up some sense that you might be interested in buying from me. Am I right?’

      ‘Ah. Well, now it is my turn for confession,’ Saskia replied, her gazed locked onto his face. ‘I try not to make snap decisions when it comes to spending my money. My late aunt, Margot Elwood, taught me that loyalty to a supplier means a very great deal. I am therefore rather cautious about who I give my loyalty to, and one bottle of wine is no guarantee that the others will be of the same quality.’

      ‘Loyalty. I like that idea.’

      Rick glanced over Saskia’s shoulder. ‘How about I give my future loyal customer a hand and carry that box of sample bottles down to her wine cellar? Who knows? I might pick up a few tips from an Elwood.’

      ‘My wine cellar?’ Saskia repeated. ‘I’m very flattered—’ she smiled ‘—thank you, but I am sure it would be boring compared to the wonderful wines you have in your stockrooms. And I am quite capable of carrying a few bottles down a corridor.’

      Saskia straightened and kept her smile firmly fixed as she gazed past Rick Burgess towards the front door. ‘I wouldn’t want to keep your team waiting.’

      Rick replied by tilting his head. ‘They’re already heading back to the office. So you see, Miss Elwood, I’m all yours. Now. Where do you want me to put this box?’

      ‘I store the specialist wine and ports in the basement. Oh, and please mind your head. These old cellars were built for shorter people.’

      Rick followed Saskia down the narrow stone steps that led from her modern stainless steel kitchen down into the brick and stone storeroom and cellar that ran almost the full length of the house. He carefully lowered the large cardboard box of wine onto a sturdy old wooden table before following her into the cellar.

      Saskia flicked on the lighting system and started her tour with the classic red wines she had bought for the coming autumn and winter season before moving on to the older and more prestigious wines. Racks and racks of bottles were laid out on their sides in purpose-built curved trays, label up, creating a superb display.

      Rick peered politely at each of the winemakers and vintages with only a quick nod to indicate that he was only vaguely interested in what he was looking at.

      It was not just annoying, it was unsettling!

      She was just about to turn back when Rick pointed towards the cabinet where she stored her most precious white wines, most of which she had inherited from her aunt.

      ‘I recognise that wine, it’s one of my father’s favourites.’

      ‘Then we have something in common.’ She smiled. ‘It’s one of my favourites too. It also happens to be made at the vineyard once owned by my Elwood grandparents. Yes, that’s right. This is my family wine.’

      ‘Ah—’ Rick chuckled ‘—you see. I was right—I have learnt something new. Although it does make me wonder why you don’t promote your connection to the famous Elwood family more on your website. That is a remarkable heritage to be proud of.’

      She replied by smiling and shaking her head. ‘There is a very good reason for that. I might be an Elwood but I have never been a wine merchant and I wouldn’t want anyone coming here under false pretences.’

      Rick strolled up, pressed his shoulder snugly against hers and dropped his gaze onto a copy of a wine label that she was holding in her hand. His long wide mouth curved up into a smile that raised the temperature of the air in the cellar by several degrees. ‘I know about that.’ He chuckled. ‘Here I am, with a new career as a wine merchant and about to open a new wine store. Everything I know about the business I picked up from a lifetime living with a family who is obsessed with everything to do with wine.’

      ‘Aunt Margot may have been the last of the Elwood family but there was nothing that you could tell that lady about wine. I only wish I had her experience and knowledge.’

      ‘Exactly!’ Rick said in a voice bubbling with enthusiasm. ‘This is why I need to be totally honest with you about the real reason that I am here today.’

      ‘Real reason? What do you mean?’

      His reply was to move closer, stretch out one long muscular arm to the stone wall behind her shoulder and lean forward so that their faces were only inches apart. Trapping her in the space between his body and the wine racks, which were pressing into her back.

      Any closer and she would be on intimate terms with his shirt buttons.

      She could hunch down and dive under his armpit if she had a mind to but this was her cellar, not his. And, damn him, but she was not the one who was going to have to move first. Even if he did smell of soft leather and fine wine underpinned by a faint citrus tang of some no doubt very expensive male grooming product designed to act as instant girl attractor.

      And Lord, it was worth every penny he had spent.

      His gaze scanned her face for several too long seconds before he whispered and stepped so close that she could almost feel the heat of his breath on her brow. ‘I think you are being far too modest, Saskia. From what I’ve seen today, the clients who come to Elwood House are lucky enough to have the very best and the excellent taste of the mistress of this fine house.’

      The way Rick lingered on that last word sent shivers up her spine which she blinked away. Was he trying to flirt with her?

      As for modest? What choice did she have? Her mother might have fled to Los Angeles, leaving her with her aunt, but it was her father who had truly ripped her heart out. She never mentioned him to anyone, not even Kate or Amber. She had even changed her surname the same week her mother had finally agreed to a divorce and went back to being Chantal Elwood again. But he was always there at the back of her mind. A constant itch that could never be scratched away. Reminding her to be careful and not take risks, no matter how tantalising they might appear.

      Saskia lifted her chin slightly. She had to stay professional. Even if he was totally inside her comfort zone and oozing enough testosterone to make her forget her own name.

      ‘Just this.’ He breathed low and hoarse, his head tilted slightly to one side. ‘What would you say if I was prepared to sign a contract committing Rick Burgess Wines to hold a lunch meeting at least every week right here in Elwood House for the next two years?’

      He paused and let the silence create the anticipation he was looking for.

      ‘What would I say?’ Saskia repeated, lifting her chin slightly sideways so that she could smile up into his face without straining her back. ‘I would say thank you very much and here is a piece of paper and a pen.’

      ‘I thought that you might. But there is a catch.’

      ‘Am I going to like it?’

      ‘Like it? I hope so. You see, my company specialises in exciting wine made by a whole new wave of brilliant new winemakers from right across Europe. I need customers like you to take a risk and invest in these wines. But one short presentation is not nearly long enough. So…’ his hips shifted slightly, just СКАЧАТЬ