Blame It on the Champagne. Nina Harrington

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ us.’

      Rick braced his shoulder on the ornate white marble fireplace in what had been the elegant, huge formal dining room of Elwood House and held the colour brochure for Rick Burgess Wines in one hand as he watched Saskia Elwood glide effortlessly around the sunlit room.

      The back split in her slender, elegant pencil skirt fanned open just enough to give him a tantalising glimpse of a pair of very long slender legs above shapely ankles. Not immodest. Oh no. Demure and classy, but tantalising all the same. Just enough to fire up his imagination.

      She was impressive.

      Every one of his sales team she spoke to looked away from the press release and winemaker portfolios that Angie had passed around to smile up at Saskia and spend a few minutes chatting before going back to their work with that smile still on their lips.

      The men and women in the room knew talent when they saw it. Not everyone was able to put a guest instantly at ease. They had expected Saskia to treat them as sales people who were worthy of a cup of instant coffee and a plain biscuit. Well, she had confounded their expectations by treating every one of his four-person team as a guest and potential client in her private meeting venue. Their coffee and tea had been served from silverware with the most delicious homemade pastries and canapés.

      Very clever. He liked clever. Even if it was obvious to him what she was doing.

      His sales people were going to be working with clients from the finest hotels and private homes around London, and Saskia had already worked that out. She might be hosting a sales meeting, but there was no reason why she could not sell them the benefits of Elwood House at the same time.

      Their hostess was elegant, warm, unpretentious and genuinely interested in her clients. Attentive to their needs, but not intrusive or overfamiliar.

      It was precisely what the hospitality industry was all about. And Saskia Elwood had it in spades. He loved watching experts at work. He always had. And the lovely lady of the house was at that moment giving him a master class in exactly the type of customer service he was going to expect in the flagship London face of Burgess Wine.

      He glanced back down at his phone. Ten more emails. All from his mother. All wanting urgent updates.

      Rick exhaled slowly. A well buried part of his brain knew that she was concerned about him, while the upfront and only too blatant part screamed out a message loud and clear: They don’t think you can pull this off. After two years of hard work you are still the black sheep who is never going to be taken seriously. So you might as well give up now and go back to the sports where you are the best!

      No. Not going to happen. He had made a commitment and he was going to see it through, no matter what it took. Rick Burgess had not risen to the top of his sport by being a quitter.

      Strange how his gaze shifted automatically up from the screen towards the slim woman in the pale grey suit, refilling an elegant coffee pot.

      Her light brown straight hair was tied loosely back in a shell clip at the base of her neck, which on any other woman would look too casual, but somehow looked exactly right. She knew exactly what she looked like and had taken time to perfect her appearance. Subtle day time make-up, but with skin that clear she didn’t need anything but a slick of colour on her lips. This woman knew that her eyes were her best feature and made the best of them. Her eyes were totally riveting. Those eyes captured your attention and held it tight.

      Just as they were doing right now as she looked across and flashed him a glance.

      Rick slid into a comfortable dining chair and instantly refocused on the business proposal, making notes on the points still to be resolved as he scanned down the snag list. But all the while his left hand tapped out a beat on the fine table and curiosity pricked his skin.

      Maybe that was her secret? That hot body that every man in the room had probably already visualised, which lay under that surface layer of clothing. Tempting the men and impressing the women. She could turn on the heat for the men and the friendly girl power for the ladies.

      A clever girl with a hot body wrapped in a teasing and intriguing package.

      A frisson of excitement and anticipation sparked across Rick’s mind.

      It would be quite a coup if he could sign up Margot Elwood’s niece to stock his wines and serve them to her guests before the store even opened.

      Perhaps that would be the proof he needed to convince his parents that their reckless and, in their eyes, feckless second son would not let them down after all?

      Now all he had to do was talk her into it.

      Rick glanced around the table. Everyone was seated. They had their promotional material and Saskia was already scanning each page.

      The game was on!

      ‘I have just spent the last two years tracking down the finest wine from the new wave of young winemakers all over Europe and persuading them to supply it exclusively to my new flagship wine store right here in central London. Every wine on our list has been personally chosen and vetted.’

      ‘You can say the same thing about every family run wine shop in London, Mr Burgess,’ the girl he now knew as Saskia Elwood replied in a light soft voice as her pen tapped onto the cover of his glossy brochure. ‘Standards are high.’

      ‘Yes, I know. You heard it all before. But this is new. This is a direct personal connection between the winemaker and the consumer.’

      ‘How confident are you that these new cellars will deliver?’ she asked. ‘A new prestigious wine store in the centre of London is one thing, but what assurances can you give me that these winemakers will come back to you year after year? I need to know that I can rely on a guaranteed supply of any wine I add to my list.’

      Rick caught her sideways sigh and downward glance but, instead of stomping on her, he grinned and saluted. Her question had not been asked in an angry or accusatory tone. Far from it. She genuinely wanted to hear his answer.

      ‘Great point. What can I give you? My energy and my commitment. I took the time to travel to the vineyards and meet these winemakers. It was not always easy to persuade them to work exclusively with Burgess Wine, but there’s one thing I know from my work as a sportsman. Passion recognises passion. These young winemakers have invested everything they have because they are obsessive about creating the most amazing wines using modern and traditional techniques. I see that in them. That’s why I want to champion these ten small family estates because that is the only way I can guarantee that there will never be such a thing as a boring wine ever again.’

      He walked around the table slowly, gesturing to the impressive brochure his parents’ marketing team had spent weeks perfecting.

      ‘Right now there’s a team of marketing experts back in the Californian headquarters for Burgess Wine working on websites for each of the individual growers. When you buy a bottle from this store you will have access to everything you need to know about the wine and the passion of the person who made it. I think that’s special.’

      ‘Sometimes passion is not enough, Mr Burgess. You need to have the experience and expertise to create a remarkable wine. And these new winemakers are still learning the trade. Not everybody is as… adventurous as you are.’

      Rick wrapped his hands around the back of the solid antique dining chair and nodded down the СКАЧАТЬ