Nope, right now single felt exactly right. Well, except for missing sex.
Three days later Brenna parked in her usual spot at Wild Sea and headed in to check on her wines. Amazingly enough, it was still daylight. Her nonnocturnal visit was due to yet another argument with her grandfather, this one about what wines they were serving at a tasting dinner for the Marcelli distributors in town for a promotional weekend. After asking her opinion, her grandfather had detailed what he thought was wrong with every one of her choices. Rather than throw a temper tantrum-which had been her first choice-she’d made a graceful exit and ended up here.
She crossed to what she’d begun to think of as “her building” and stepped inside.
Instantly the scent of fermentation assaulted her. Brenna inhaled deeply, savoring the changes from yesterday, knowing tomorrow would be different, too. The subtle alterations told her things were going well.
“Knock, knock. Brenna?”
Brenna turned and saw a woman entering the building. Her guest was tall, with thick auburn hair and a model-perfect face. Brenna didn’t know if she should be more bitter about that or the woman’s slender body. Just being in the same room with her made her feel short and lumpy.
She tried reminding herself that while she couldn’t be considered tall, except by the vertically challenged like Mia, she was of average height. If she wanted to be less lumpy, she would have to stop eating the Grands’ cooking.
“Have we met?” Brenna asked as the woman approached.
The woman smiled and held out her hand. “We haven’t been introduced, but I know who you are. I’m Maggie Moore, the chief financial officer for Wild Sea. I work for Nic.”
“Ah,” Brenna said, fighting a sudden blast of jealousy. How like Nic to hire a beautiful woman in a job traditionally held by men.
“If you’re looking for him, he’s not here,” she said.
Maggie smiled. “Actually I was looking for you. I wanted to meet the infamous Brenna Marcelli.”
“I’m infamous?” Brenna asked. “Gee, no one sent me a memo.”
“I’m not sure the title extends past my office. I handle the finances for Wild Sea.”
“I sort of guessed that by your job description.”
“I know about the loan.”
Now Brenna was really confused. “That was a private loan. I didn’t borrow the money from the corporation.”
“Oh, I know. But even Nic doesn’t happen to have a million dollars in his checking account. Once he decided how he wanted to structure the deal, he had me draw up the paperwork.”
Brenna wasn’t sure why she needed to know this. “Is there a problem?”
“Not at all.” Maggie’s smile was friendly. “Like I said, I just wanted to get to know you.”
Brenna wondered what Nic might have told this woman about her. Somehow she couldn’t see him spilling his guts about the past, but then, she’d been wrong before. Was Maggie more than just an employee?
As soon as she asked the question, she realized it wasn’t likely. For one thing, Nic wouldn’t have kissed her the way he had if he’d been involved with someone else. For another, a quick glance at Maggie’s left hand told her that the woman was married.
“How long have you worked at Wild Sea?” Brenna asked.
“Almost nine years.” Maggie grinned. “It’s kind of sad because even though I’m around all this wonderful wine, I don’t really drink it.”
Brenna chuckled. “Does Nic know?”
“Yes, and it really bugs him. He tried to teach me about different wines once, but I kept nodding off during his explanations.” She pointed at one of the vats. “Which explains why I have to ask what you’re doing in there.”
“Making Chardonnay,” Brenna said. “I’m fermenting a portion in oak and the rest in stainless steel. The stainless allows for easier temperature control. Barrel fermenting is more expensive, but it allows me to-”
She broke off and shrugged. “Sorry. I get a little carried away.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m impressed by your enthusiasm.”
“This is important to me. I’ve wanted the chance to run things my way, and now I finally have it. I plan to take all the credit, but I’m also putting myself on the line to take all of the blame if things go wrong.”
“Could they?” Maggie asked.
“Sure. Wine making is as much art as it is science. I pay attention to both.”
“Doesn’t everyone?” Maggie asked.
“Most do. But once a winery gets big, it’s difficult to be intimately involved in every step. That isn’t going to happen here.”
Brenna stopped again and sighed. “I did it again.”
Maggie shook her head. “I can see your determination in your eyes. The only thing I’ve ever felt so passionately about is my daughter.” She laughed. “That sounds horrible. I love my husband completely. He’s wonderful, but it’s not the same as loving my child. Does that make sense?”
“Sure.”
Maggie glanced at her watch. “Speaking of Annie, I have to head home so I can spend the evening with her. Daddy has to work late, so it’s girls’ night at home.” She held out her hand. “It was great to meet you, Brenna.”
“Likewise,” Brenna said, shaking hands.
She watched Maggie leave. What on earth had that been about? If she didn’t know better, she would say that Nic’s CFO had been checking her out. But why? He’d already given her the loan. Maggie couldn’t stop what had already happened.
“Not that it matters,” she told herself. But it was curious.
Was it wrong to love a grape? Brenna hoped not, because she had a serious case of hero worship for her Pinots.
She stood just off a gravel road, on the edge of her perfectly wonderful four acres. To the west stretched the Pacific Ocean for as far as the eye could see. To the east were the foothills, and tucked in between was paradise.
She knew there were those who thought that land this incredible would be wasted on something like grapes when dozens of million-dollar homes could have been built here, but Brenna considered those kind of people not only shortsighted but lacking a soul.
She crouched down by a mature vine and studied the well-shaped clusters.
Did it get any better than this? The grapes had ripened evenly. They were plump and rich in color. She could smell the promise of their flavor, and when she picked a single grape and bit into it, she actually moaned. Another day, maybe two, and then they would be ready to pick. She was going to kick butt with this harvest.
As she stood, she heard something in the distance. She recognized the rumble of a motorcycle, but even as her body went on alert and her thighs heated, she told herself that hundreds of people rode motorcycles on this narrow coastal road and that she was a fool if she allowed herself to think it might be Nic. It was the middle of harvest, for heaven’s sake. The man had better things to do than ride up like some leather-clad sex god just to jump-start her motor.
Unfortunately the thought of him got her heart pounding the way it did those rare afternoons she dragged her ample backside to aerobics class. Did that mean being around him constituted an actual workout? Could she start the next exercise craze? The Nic Giovanni workout plan? Think about sex with Nic for twenty minutes a day and lose ten pounds a month? If only. All she got from thinking about Nic was unbearably horny.
She told herself to stop staring at the road and pay attention to the grapes she’d come to admire, but she couldn’t make herself turn away until she’d actually watched the non-Nic person ride by. Maybe she would even wave.