Back in His Bed: Boardroom Rivals, Bedroom Fireworks! / Unfinished Business with the Duke / How to Win the Dating War. Heidi Rice

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СКАЧАТЬ through the Sonoma Valley toward the city. Much more than fifty miles separated Amante Verano from San Francisco. It was a whole different world—one that she’d failed miserably to join or even enjoy the last time.

      Was Dianne right? Was she walking right back into a disaster? Had this weekend been just Jack humoring her, or could he really want her—Scrabble and all—again?

      It could be different, she told herself. She and Jack didn’t have any misconceptions about each other anymore. They knew where they stood, and she was a big enough girl to know when to pull the plug on this experiment. But she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t at least try. She’d always wonder otherwise…

      Belatedly, she noticed the small bouquet of flowers tucked into a vase on the bar. White orchids tied with a red ribbon, with a small envelope peeking out of the blooms. As she pulled it free she saw her name written across the front in Jack’s bold handwriting. It felt lumpy in her hand as she released the flap and pulled out the note inside.

       Glad you decided to come after all. See you soon.

      Jack’s initials, MJG, were scrawled in the corner, almost illegible if she hadn’t seen them a million times before. She shook the envelope and something sparkly landed in her hand.

      A bracelet. No, an anklet. The sunlight, muted slightly through the tinted windows, caused the rubies set in a thin gold chain to flash. Rubies—because she’d told him once that diamonds were too cold and rubies reminded her of her wines.

      Jack had a good memory. Orchids and peonies, not roses. Rubies, not diamonds. An anklet because she didn’t like bracelets because they caught on things. Little things that should have faded from his memory long ago, but touched her now simply because they hadn’t.

      She propped her foot on the seat and fastened the chain around her ankle. The slowing of the car caused her to look up, and she saw the orange railings of the Golden Gate Bridge. How had she got here so fast? This really was the point of no return.

      The limo crawled through the city traffic at an infuriating pace. Now that she’d made the decision, got in the car and clasped Jack’s gift around her ankle, she was eager to see him. Her heartbeat picked up as the limo pulled to a stop. But it wasn’t the multi-colored awning of Garrett Towers outside her window.

      It was the concert hall.

      Michael opened her door and extended a hand to her. “Don’t we need to go get Jack first?” She didn’t want to imply Michael had forgotten to stop at Garrett Towers…

      “No, Miss Walsh, Mr. Garrett asked me to bring you directly here.”

      “So he’s inside?”

      “Mr. Garrett has been delayed in a meeting. He will meet you here shortly.” Michael extended his hand again to help her out.

      She definitely didn’t want to go inside alone. “Can’t you take me back…?” She stopped as Michael’s eyebrows went up a fraction of an inch. Of course not. That would be silly.

      She was an adult; she could walk into a party by herself. More importantly, she was the owner of Amante Verano, Max’s pride and joy, and this party was in his honor. She allowed Michael to help her from the limo, and took a deep breath to steady herself as a doorman opened the massive entry doors for her.

      She could do this. No problem.

      She was also going to kill Jack Garrett later.

      An hour later, Brenna was plotting inventive and painful ways for Jack to die as she made awkward small talk with strangers. The fake smile was starting to hurt her cheeks, and she wished she’d stuck to her earlier resolution not to come at all.

      Everyone had known Max, so he was a safe and easy topic of conversation for her, but without fail the conversation would turn quickly to Max’s other interests in San Francisco—which she knew little to nothing about—and then on to people she didn’t know and places she’d never been. She had nothing to add to the conversation, and she could only ask so many questions before she began to look like some hayseed hick from the boonies.

      She certainly felt like one.

      A server offered her another glass of wine, and for the first time in her life she declined. The caterers had the Cabernet too cold and the Chardonnay too warm, totally ruining them both. But several people, on learning she was the vintner at Amante Verano, complimented her on the wines. One older gentleman, who owned a chain of popular restaurants across the state, seemed very interested in adding her wines to his wine list. Jack had been right about that much: this was as much a business affair as a social one. She didn’t feel bad, since it was Max’s celebration anyway and he’d be happy to see his wines’ reputation grow, but if she was making business contacts here it meant everyone else was, too, and that just felt wrong.

      Escaping to the ladies’ room, she touched up her lipstick and checked to see Di’s up do was staying put. For once, Di was wrong: her hair was holding the curls just fine, and none had escaped the mass of pins she’d used to hold them in place.

      She stared at herself in the mirror, oddly pleased with herself. In spite of everything, she’d handled this event just fine. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth: she, of all people, had just mingled her way into what could lead to a lucrative business contact. A small surge of pride moved through her.

      She hesitated, though, before heading back out into the party proper, and glanced at her watch one last time.

      Jack was now an hour and a half late. Damn it. What was keeping him?

      “Excuse me. Have we met?”

      Brenna turned to see a woman about her age; while her face looked vaguely familiar, she couldn’t place her. She plastered a smile on her face regardless. “Possibly. I’m Brenna Walsh, from Amante Verano Cellars.” At the woman’s blank look, she added helpfully, “Max Garrett’s vineyard?”

      “Oh, you’re Jack’s ex.”

      She’d known this moment would come. “Yes, that, too.”

      “Is Jack here?”

      “Not yet, but he is planning to come.”

      “Oh, good. It’s been ages since I’ve seen him.” The woman opened her purse and pulled out a lipstick.

      “And you are…?” Brenna prompted.

      “Libby Winston. We met years ago at another event. I think it was shortly after you and Jack got married.”

      Brenna still couldn’t place her, and it must have shown on her face.

      “You probably met so many of Jack’s friends, and it was so long ago…”

      Embarrassed, she tried to explain. “I’m terribly sorry. I’m really bad at…”

      Libby brushed the apology away. “Don’t worry about it. You were so shy and quiet. I’m not surprised you don’t remember many of Jack’s friends.” Libby smiled, but it held no warmth at all. “Everyone remembers you, of course. Jack really surprised us all, getting married like that. And we certainly weren’t expecting you, either.”

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